Live Review: She & Him - July 6th and July 8th, 2013 - Central Park SummerStage

I spy with both of my bleary eyes…summer. I see lovers. I see buzzing bees. I see Zooey Deschanel jumping up and down with a tambourine!? This makes me giddy to no end! Wake up the overworked and underpaid, we like the same things and I like your smile: Crushes and cold drinks abound!?

I reckon it can’t be beat. And, I’m not talking with the perverted nature of The Man Show when they would have women with big bouncy boobs jumping on trampolines, though, obviously, Zooey is very beautiful. I’m speaking of a good, clean, giddy-fun rock show at one of the most beautiful places on the planet.

Highs

·       Did I mention the giddiness of Zooey Deschanel jumping around stage with a tambourine?

·       They played 25 & 28 songs respectively. In my mind, that’s giving it all you have. They played all my favorites!

·       The band put a strict cease and desist (not really, but lots of posts and security verbal reminders) on cameras and phones during the show. A stand I’d like to see taken more often and more hardcore in the future, if, somehow possible.

·       Anytime M.Ward would sing, the crowd would go berserk! His guitar playing was buzz-worthy. M.Ward has my full attention as a potential sleeper guitar God.

·       Vol 3 is a masterpiece album. The (new) material not only holds up, but it advances the sonic fortitude of the band. Reminds me of The Beach Boys Pet Sounds, but with female vocals. As I wrote on my Twitter, “Sunny with waves of darkness blended with effervescent romantism.”

·       Fantastic stage set up with a myraid of diverse lighting sets.

·       No gimmicks: How awesome would it be to hear M.Ward sing, “Who’s that girl?” Or, I think Zooey should wear a M.Ward shirt and M.Ward should wear a New Girl shirt. Though, I understand that they are more “fashionable” than that.

·       Lots of well-done, re-worked, unexpected covers.

·       That fun-go-lucky music just flourishes in the beautiful setting of Central Park. It’s lushness frolics through the parks nooks and crannies and into your brain, fresh and park air clean.

Lows

·       Zooey’s stage banter was sheepish. A bad sheepish. I was looking forward to this part of the show, and I just walked away not gushing all over her as my dreams had me. Perhaps my expectations were to high. She would ask mundane questions to the audience, as a time waster, but it wasn’t sincere or funny. Did anyone else think this?

·       Saturday’s show was TOO HOT. Not the band’s fault, but stuff like that does affect the overall mood.

·       Zooey didn’t pick me out of the audience and marry me on stage. )-:

She & Him just played two nights of glorious smile-glazed harmonies at Central Park’s Summerstage. Now, it wasn’t all greetings of giggles and blowing bubbles in the gentle warm sun. Saturday (the 6^th) was a dense, compacted battle against the sun and its army of humidity, whereas Monday’s show (the 8^th) was forced to grin and bear through a 15, or so, minute rain delay. The rain was hard and cold, but not as much of a nuisance as one might think, coming and going quickly and unabashed. The degree to which the audience was soaked, only seemed to amp up anticipation for the upcoming ZooeyFest.

Make no mistake about the duo’s name: It’s Zooey’s show. Though, at times, I would watch M.Ward with such a mesmerizing trance, it would seem like the band I was seeing was Him & She. This was quite unexpected, as I have followed the band from the beginning (though never live…), but my love of Zooey blossomed exponentially with New Girl, though again I would argue the best parts of that show are the Hims: Nick Miller and Schmidt. With that said, Zooey is the epicenter of fun, cute, quirky and all-world talent (actress, songwriter, performer, what can’t she do? What a life!?) allowing these amazing entities to orbit around her, with her own brand of grace.

It’s been well documented that M.Ward is more than fine taking the back seat to Zooey’s show (he does so with such a professional luster I might add…), as the whole thing started with a series of demos Zooey sent him, which eventually became Vol. 1. M.Ward a troubadour, a journeyman, a sleeper guitar God in his own right, makes out pretty well in the deal. He gets to work with someone that really has a gift for crafting top-notch melodies and lyrics and Ward can turn them into harmonic perfection. I wish I made this up, but the best thing I’ve ever read about Ward is so true it’s comically ridiculous: M.Ward can make a song from today sound like it was recorded in the 50’s and a song from the 50’s sound like it was written yesterday. The guy has a gift for tunings and knob turnings that can make anything retro, but at the same time, find that Rick Rubin digging into the personality of the musician, and make it come to life raw and urgent. That’s what he does with Zooey. With  She and Him, he’s brought the Zooeyness to the forefront of the music, along with lending an illustrious creditability to the end product that channels his idols: The Beach Boys and the Beatles, with the chemical artistry of a batch of Walter White crystal meth. 99% vs. 96%. Chuuch.

Speaking of The Beach Boys, She & Him’s new album appropriately titled Vol 3 I’m lovingly titling Pet Sounds with a Pussy. You may not like that word. You may think it’s unfair to compare any album to Pet Sounds. But, if you listen to “I’ve Got Your Number, Son” and “Never Wanted Your Love,” I really don’t see what other conclusion you can come to. M.Ward, mad scientist, uber-genius, really cooked one up here. Accept the reference and the alliteration!? It’s a lovely and updated sound, and with cute female vocals. What’s this world coming to, right? It’s so effervescent and fresh smelling park grass. Even the album cover has two beautiful faces with florescent bubbles flying around it. The art is right on. So, put your headphones on, wait for a gust of wind, and get the kite blazing! That, or find yourself a windy road and a convertible and let your hair fly on a lush coastal beach. These are the two places this album takes me. Either way, the Wilson brothers would be proud!

The first thing I wonder about a She & Him show, is how are they going to replicate all the layering of her vocals. Many times their songs break into multiple, sometimes as many as five, vocal layers. I call it a “brain full of cycling Zooey’s.” Ah, it’s a wonderful thing!? The more Zooey’s the better, am-I-right? For the tour, they have anywhere from just She & Him (two people if you’re counting) all the way to about a dozen people, on an occasional string boosted song. Just awesome. The “brain full of cycling Zooey’s is simply two backup singers (little Zooey’s?), who might I add are snapping and swaying in unison the entire show. It’s amazing to me how those little details make something so special. Just ask anyone that was in a Marching Band. The difference is in the details. Anyway, if you’re keeping score, the means the TOURING version of the band is: She & Him & Him & Him & Him & Him & Him & Her & Her (little Zooey’s).  

I was definitely impressed at Zooey’s vocal prowess. On the new album, Vol 3, her voice has a deep richness to it I haven’t heard before. It looks like when she sings the songs with this robust flavor live, she needs her full elongated straight up posture to hammer it out, but it sounds amazing. Like a singing Zooey oak tree. I would say about 96% of the show, she sounds elite and about four percent of the time she sounds like someone who’s really good at karaoke missing a note or two. As in, a couple of the songs like “Stars Fell on Alabama” (Frank Sinatra) and even though I love it, a couple of times I thought it sounded flat, “Hold Me, Kiss Me, Thrill Me” (Mel Carter). On the closing anthem of the show, M.Ward gently strummed a rockin’ “I Put a Spell on You” (Screamin’ Jay Hawkins/CCR) to which Zooey left the mic stand, getting as close to the audience as possible and seemingly tried to blow everyone away with her voice. Literally. Physically. Using the wind of her voice like a powerful tornado. Show’s over, folks, you’ve been blown OUT of the park!!!? It was powerful, comical and quite impressive all at the same time. It reminded me of Tenacious D’s “Master Exploder.” It was THAT over the top and awe thumping. Everyone not bowled over, was at the very least knocked back to their heels and impressed. 

This was the last straw for me to make THIS comparison. She & Him, and Zooey, remind me a great deal of Jack Black and Tenacious D. Albeit more snapping your fingers, clean and poppy, lots of dick jokes to literally ZERO dick jokes… There are some crisp similarities. 1) We’re talking about an actress making music, but I and most I know, prefer the music 2) An A-list comrade to smooth out the edges, give illuminating credibility, and generally take things to the next level. For The D, it’s Dave Grohl, who plays most electric guitars, drums, THE DEVIL, lends his Studio 606, etc, etc. For She & Him, it’s M.Ward. 3) “Master Exploder” 4) They’ve both recorded three albums (we’ll say The D’s HBO show and S & H’s Christmas Album cancel each other out) 5) The D’s obsession with ROCKING correlates directly with She & Him’s songcraft to come up with a retro-style hook. 

Saturday's show was a heat stroke waiting to happen, with the pressure cooker of being a Saturday night in NYC. Saturday nights during the summer of NYC, just have a feel. Like something amazing is supposed to happen. It usually does, but there is still that kind of date-y like pressure. Monday's show, wasn't as hot, sold out, compact or pressurized. It was loose. Zooey's family was in attendance. It just seemed like everyone had a little bit of a better time. It made me very glad I decided to go to BOTH shows. If I only saw the Saturday show, my Midwest mindset perhaps would have left me feeling the band was conceited. Not in a terrible way, but Saturday's event wasn't the most gracious display. It's NYC. It was hot. They did their job, but there wasn't that feeling that this was THE MOST FUN THING EVER for them to do. I always love that feeling. Monday's show was at least a little closer to that. 

I did dig Zooey's Tweet. Perhaps it was PR, but it still made me feel good, and because of PR, and the diminishing returns of expectations, this is a real, real nice gesture...

Amazingly fun two shows in Central Park at the summer stage!! Thank you to all of the lovely people who came to see us in the sun and rain!
— zooey deschanel (@ZooeyDeschanel) July 9, 2013

“Never Wanted Your Love,” reminds me directly of the buzzing bees feeling of Pet Sounds “I’m Waiting for the Day.” Zooey’s lyrics are so cutting and urgent, “take a win, take a fall/I never wanted your love/but I needed it all/I’m tired of being clever/everyone’s clever these days.” That’s just flat out brilliant, and with that rolling drum beat and a rich “I could sing this song in the shower for hours voice,” it’s hard not to fall. Ok, make that a COLD SHOWER. All head over heels and drooling aside, Zooey is a lyrical and melodic force, with an absurd amount of sing-able, maudlin, love struck, love pained, well rounded, outright top-shelf tunes for your listening, discernable ears. I want to buy a tambourine and dance around my room with this shit on full blast. Her songs are as good, if not better than any of my favorite female artists: Norah, Feist, Carina Round, etc, etc. She has to be there, and with Vol 3 and a salient tour—the force is set free.

So cut the chit-chat haters, summer bubbles and bee stings are here. I’ve been stung and I cherish the wound. So, let yourself fall in love and have this retro-ly delicious soundtrack to do so. Buzz. Buzz. Swoon.

Setlist

I Was Made for You

I’ve Got Your Number, Son

Baby

Over it and Over it Again

Take it Back

Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me (Mel Carter cover)

Thieves

Turn to White

I Thought I Saw Your Face Today

Brand New Shoes (Sat only)

You Really Got a Hold on Me (The Miracles cover)

Stars Fell on Alabama (Frank Sinatra cover)

Unchained Melody (Alex North cover)

Me and You

Ridin’ in My Car (NRBQ cover)

Don’t Look Back

Rave On! (Sonny West cover)

Magic Trick (M.Ward song)

This is Not a Test

Never Wanted Your Love

Together

I Could Have Been Your Girl (Sat only)

Why Do You Let Me Stay Here?

In the Sun

Sunday Girl (Blondie cover)

Roll Over Beethoven (Chuck Berry cover) (Sat only)

Sweet Darlin’

I Put a Spell on You (Screamin’ Jay Hawkins cover) 




Author's Note: I DID adhere to the no pictures or phone 99% of the time. The pictures you see, were taken during the double encore of the Saturday show, when a bunch of people left. No, I'm not proud, but it DOES add to this blog post. So, I did it for YOU readers. I did it for YOU. (-: 

Live Review: Born Ruffians - Bowery Ballroom - April 16th, 2013

It felt like midnight Tuesday at Meijer as Born Ruffians took the Bowery Ballroom stage long after the sun came down, and shortly after I’d had a few (dozen) PBR’s. On this particular Tuesday, the bands’ third LP Birthmarks unveiled itself in concert, and for take out. As one would imagine the boys were in a festive mood. It had the feel of a low-key release party with the band confidently striding through a set of mostly new, intertwined around fan-favorite classics, to keep the sold out crowd frenzied.

The quirky quartet from Toronto doesn’t really take themselves too seriously, even though over the course of almost a decade their music has evolved exponentially. Any band that opens their set with a song called “Badonkadonkey” is to be given some slack in the seriousness department. It was an excellent choice by the way. Throughout their set though, there were traces of a band that’s coming together, forming a catalogue of deeper diversity, while still maintaining that zany dance party vibe. It’s really the perfect kind of show to let loose and kind of act like a fool, while maintaining some indie-pop cred for finding tasty rock goodness in the city.

Birthmarks opens with a remarkable song, the band used to close their set, “Needle” that showcases the bands’ ability to boil their sound into a bare-bones folk croon. The vocals sound eerily like that of the Fleet Foxes’ Robin Pecknold, and when the song gains momentum it cascades into a bursting Vampire Weekendish excursion. In fact, there are many times during Birthmarks I feel the channeling of Vampire Weekend, though, without the patronizing hipster-hater circus that comes with ALL THAT stigma. My apologies to Born Ruffians, but I view it as a good thing, a great blend of synth-riffs that crescendo into beautiful worldly sounding harmonization.

Born Ruffians seem to have a firm grasp on their audience. They were greeted with a berserk knee jerk reaction after opening with two classic numbers from their highly acclaimed debut LP Red, Yellow & Blue (2008). Then, they launched into a handful-and-a-half new songs were received well, with the crowd even singing along to the seemingly untested hymns.

Admittedly, after the debut masterpiece, Born Ruffians had kind of dropped off my radar. I missed their follow up, Say It in 2010, which only accounted for two of the performed songs, and didn’t come across Birthmarks until a friend pointed me in the direction. I’m glad he did. And, although the new album isn’t necessarily a classic like RY&B, but it’s certainly a worthwhile listen with a steady dose of quality songs, again, extending the sound and reach of the band.     

One particular song, “Cold Pop” drives hard with a synth heavy not-so-subtle sexuality declaring with dubious debauchery, “I’ve got nothing but lust for you…” It takes many twists and turns, without losing its effervescent momentum. I’m also a raving fan of “Rage Flows,” an off-kilter mid-tempo electronic dance-y song that features handclaps, toy sounds, monotone vocal loops and a multitude of timing changes. It’s a ride that I finish, I’m not quite sure what happened, but I feel ultimately I’m better for the experience. I wouldn’t play it at my next house party, but maybe I would—if there were enough drugs. Ingested. People would have to be fucked up for me to have the guts to play this song. Title fulfills prophecy…chuuch.

The encore was another case of embattled perfection. They opened with my favorite Born Ruffians song, “Little Garcon.” It’s just a cute little ditty that starts out as a folk riff, like a more romantic Lumineers, and blossoms into a layered clap along, whirling tambourine, hootenanny, nestling around your heart’s desire. The quintessential set closer is “I Need a Life” which is a rollicking number that senses set perfection as it gains life throughout the song, climaxing on a call and response sing-a-long, bringing the evening to a majestic close. It’s certainly Born Ruffians’ “Everlong.”

Their music has matured, but the dance-crazed fun doesn’t have to. Where’s the after party?

Setlist (I’m 94% confident about accuracy):

1. Badonkadonkey

2. Kurt Vonnegut

3. I’m One of Those Girls

4. Ocean’s Deep

5. Rage Flows

6. Too Soaked to Break

7. What to Say

8. Merry Little Fancy Things

9. Retard Canard

10. With Her Shadow

11. Cold Pop

12. Barnacle Goose

13. Needle

14. Little Garcon

15. I Need a Life

 

Andrew Bird, Beacon Theater, May 4th, 2012

This was a very cool stage prop. The two horns would move and it would make the sound
move right to left across the Beacon Theater. And it just looks cool. Vintage vestige.
Photo: Stolen

The tone was set early at the Beacon Theater Friday night. It was abundantly clear that this show was destined to be epic. Amongst a sock monkey, hanging sea creatures and an old-style record player with two horns that apparently rotate, Bird baffled the Beacon audience without saying a word. It felt like the opening scene to The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly. I thought to myself, “perhaps he doesn’t feel like singing tonight” as the first 13-17 minutes of the program was a one-man cloistered fit of violin playing, xylophone, tapping, various whistle patterns and guitar—looped with what must be an expansive foot pedal system. Mouth open. Completely fascinated. 

Why don’t more people know about this guy? SOME people know him, because he was able to sell out two Beacon Theater shows, but in casual conversation, even with people that know music pretty well, he draws a great deal of crickets.  

Bird really holds a precarious niche. He’s been around forever, most notably as the fiddle player on at least the first Squirrel Nut Zippers album. His new album, Break it Yourself, is his 12^th studio album. Recorded in his barn around Western Illinois near the Mississippi River, the album, according to Bird is his first truly “communal album.”  It couldn’t come at a better time, because the album is a masterpiece—easily one of the best of the year and perhaps his finest. It’s full, rich, and emotive and more than his previous offerings seems to communicate better lyrically.

Bird is the consummate professional, dressing the part, entering the stage Friday night looking like a business version of Josh Grobin, rocking a 5 O’clock shadow and a suit adorned with a scarf. He’s not too busy-busy fluttering from one flummoxing arrangement to the next to adhere to his audience. When someone loudly requested “Measuring Cups,” he without flinching quipped, “We can do that. We hadn’t planned to…” The bass player even had to retrieve the bass he’d just put away. “Happy to oblige,” remarked Bird before playing the song he had originally scripted. When it was time to close the set with “Tables and Chairs,” Bird foreshadowed dryly, “It’s time for snacks.” Yes, yes it is.  

Some of the songs rocked ridiculously hard for the billing (“Fake Palindromes” comes to mind). I really thought at times I was watching a metro-sexual Jethro Tull. At other times the lavish love of indie-folk-rock-violining made me want to weep for joy, whether playing and singing (which I didn’t know was possible) or straight up plucking as if it were a mandolin (I’d also never seen this style on a violin, therefore didn’t render it possible). Occasionally he’d prophesize his gesticulations singing the lyrics with his hands in the air, flowing to and fro like a college professor giving a dissertation on Zach De La Rocha’s lyrical propaganda.  You can’t spell range without RAGE.

Another sensational dynamic of the show was when the band would break down into a three-piece in front of one microphone and play bluegrass style. They did this in the middle of the set for a couple of the newer songs, as well as, in the encore when they played Charley Patton and Townes Van Zandt covers consecutively. The guitarist stood to the left, straight up and postured high like a mariachi-man, with the standup bass to the right and Bird manning violin and vocals. Scintillating and simple, it grounded the show in vintage vestige.

A whistling renaissance man conjuring a plan to take over the world with a guitar slung over his shoulder, violin in hand, wheeling a xylophone and whistling—smiles are bound to light a path to glittering glory.  

Stock in Andrew Bird…is…wait for it…yes…SOARING!?!?!?  

I don’t have a setlist for the show. It’s pretty similar to the Philly show from the previous night (on Setlist FM), only with the addition of “Measuring Cups.” He also did a KILLER rendition of "It's Not Easy Being Green!?"  


I did, however, come up with some marketing ideas for how to ratchet up Bird’s market share.

Coming soon to stores near you, these fine Andrew Bird products…

• Andrew Bird Risk: You are not fighting for world domination, rather to educate the world with musical culture. Countries and spoils will be decided with complicated looping dice challenges (like Yahtzee on speed blended with pre calculus) and classical music trivia. Risk matches double if you can whistle the national anthem of a country on your card. Games are only sold at Ivy League school book stores, but, somehow, most of the orders seem to come from Ann Arbor, MI.
• AB’s Snack Line: Marketers need not worry about the atmosphere. Tables and chairs not included, but there will be snacks, there will.
•  Andrew Bird’s Billy Joel cover album: Come on. We all want to hear how he’d personally recreate the whistle in “Allentown” or his complex layered version of “The Stranger” and of course the Chicago barn sing-a-long and hootenanny, “The Xylophone Man.”
• Spirit of the Wild: Andrew Bird joins Ted Nugent on the often-ignored low budget hunting show. Bird shows Nugent how to call birds with various musical instruments. When Nugent actually starts killing the animals, they square off, bow and arrow against violin bow. You think I’m an idiot? Well, I’m pretty sure this scenario inspired an actual Bird song called “Spare-Oh.” You can find this at most NYC street illegal DVD vendors.
• Andrew Bird’s Clothing Line: Wear it Yourself will sell AB’s featured concert gear. Doesn’t it suck that you can’t wear your concert t-shirts in the office? Fear no longer, you can dress like the cerebral, stoic violin virtuoso five days a week. And just like when you listen to him, nobody will know what the hell is going on.
• The Andrew Bird Humidifier: Yup, it whistles while it works. It taps exquisite xylophone beats when it’s about to run out of water, leaving your living space cool and well moisturized.
•  Andrew Bird’s Measuring Cups: Instructions for the game to measure your brain not included. 

Say Anything, Best Buy Theater, Friday, April 13th, 2012

At the top of the majestic dune, you can see some of the so called "dudes" 
who rocked Say Anything on theroad trip home.
Photo: Owen Weber (www.owenweberlive.com)

After one of the best camping trips of my life, I was treated to a musical epiphany…Say Anything rocks!

It was a car ride. After a week camping in the beautiful sands of Ludington, MI, a bunch of dudes threw on In Defense of the Genre, a bombastic double album from Los Angeles’ Say Anything. It was one of those moments when all the stars align and the sonic landscape, matches perfectly with the outer landscape. Swirling trees and whizzing Detroit born automobiles; feelings, surroundings and genuine affinity for the “soundtrack of life” compounded together into the unfathomable movie script ending to a cathartic outdoor weekend. 

My buddy Kevin, one of life’s favorite spin-doctors, threw it in and said something along the lines of “CHECK OUT THIS TASTY LICK!?!?!” My life will never be the same. For some reason all the chord changes, silly song endings, insanely honest-sounding song writing, ridiculous combinations of musical styles from track to track resonated perfectly with how the weekend I never wanted to end, came to an end. But, we had the roadtrip back, and we were going to eat that shit up.

From that day forward (circa “that day-present”, Say Anything became my most listened to band in my catalog, absolutely destroying even the Foo Fighters and Taylor Hawkins in my Top Plays list on I-Tunes. Max Bemis and company aren’t the most remarkable song makers in the world, but there are a wide variety of idiosyncrasies for the senses, and it just happens to cleanse the pallet with ease, time and time again. He has a knack for finding a hook, blowing it up, twisting a bunch of knobs and finding that perfect piece of art within the creation—taking what’s given to him and using everything in his power, expanding internal expenditure without breaking the bank.

The sharks aren’t jumped, but they are beaten with hand whittled spears and who wouldn’t want to see that?

In March, Say Anything released Anarchy, My Dear their fourth studio album. Overall, I don’t like it as much as their other releases, branding it as kind of a Say Anything light beer offering, lacking some of the rawk I’ve come to crave from them, but recognizing sometimes that’s a good change of pace. It compliments their catalog well and is delicious, but not something I’ll crave for years to come.  

So, many years later, I find myself in a position where I haven’t seen my most listened to band live. Unacceptable.

The scene was much like when I was a kid and went to the Warped Tour. I, at 30, was seemingly the oldest person at Best Buy Theater by a good half decade. That’s all right, I’ve accepted my new concert role as toe-tapping beer drinker in the back, who listens to the music and remembers the day when concerts were more of a workout than a therapeutic disturbance from the grind.

I was eternally impressed with the energy Max Bemis brings to the stage, delivered with mental patient overzealousness, which was returned to him like white lightning from the youthful exuberance of the audience. It was like a tennis pro slinging serves and having them returned by Andre Agassi circa 1997—NYC was kicking in the township rebellion. Yeah, what about that sucker?

It seemed to make Bemis taken aback, causing him to gush several times about how, “this was the best audience of the tour,” but did so in a way that seemed genuine and spontaneous. I actually believed the most played cliché in the book. He did it so many times I actually started to feel bad for the guy, like he almost crossed the line of overthanking, like that of a grassroots soup kitchen rewarding their volunteers. Thankyou-thankyou-thankyou-thankyou…come again. At one point he even said, “we don’t deserve fans like you.”  

Their catalog features many sing-a-long “Woahs” and screaming backing chants. Many opportunities to let your voice heard as an audience, as many as there can possibly be at a rock concert, with kids up front on many occasions finding Bemis in their grill with the microphone awaiting your moment to immortalize yourself on tape. You know, where you hog the intellectual spotlight holding dominion over the whole, pointless concert? Yup. You had your moment kids up front.

Lucky enough, these guys are just as fun from the back. Right five-foot, 100-pound girl who insisted I hold her on my shoulders because “So Good” is “like totally her favorite song and she just HAAAAS to be able to see it!?” Her friends got enough pictures that, somewhere, I’m immortalized in film.

Setlist:

Spidersong

Burn a Miracle

Shiksa (Girlfriend)

Hate Everyone

Belt

In Defense of the Genre

Wow, I Can Get Sexual Too

Say Anything

Eloise

Slumming it With Johnny

So Good

Every Man Has A Molly

The Church Channel

Property

A Walk Through Hell

Alive With the Glory of Love

Ahhh…Men

Admit It!!!

Admit It Again

Our Lady Peace, Bowery Ballroom, April 5th 2012

(Photo: Stolen from Wikipedia, 2010)

For some strange reason, for most of my life I’ve grouped Our Lady Peace with other multi-hit bands on the radio that weren’t “huge” but garnered similar radio play (and therefore listened to, because I really only listened to the radio during that time) from WGRD in Grand Rapids, MI circa 1997 like Seven Mary Three, Local H, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Lit, Splender etc, etc. But, if you look at the consistency of the catalog, OLP should break away from that grouping and be with the so-called “big dogs” of the era.

Using a ’95 to ’05 window, I’d be hard pressed to quickly name five bands better than Our Lady Peace. Throughout their first five albums, every song on each album has a place for me. I can listen to them all…all-the-way-through. They are certainly an underrated commodity I will try not to ignore any further.

Consistency being the key that unlocks this door, OLP never became universally huge, yet remained relevant with a couple hits on each remarkably dependable album. My friends didn’t all go to OLP concerts and wear the t-shirt, to school, the next day like a doggy bringing a dead bird to the doorstep with self-aggrandizing pride in the same vein as Dave Matthews Band or Smashing Pumpkins. And, perhaps it’s only because hindsight is 20-20, but if you could go back in time, what corner would you rather stand in?

Canadian bacon is rarely trumped.

So, when I heard OLP was “returning” to tour in 2012, and playing my favorite venue in the city, Bowery Ballroom, I knew I had to check it out. Nostalgia and legacy alike were floating around in my head like bubbly balloons filled with Labatt Blue. Now, I started this paragraph using the word, return, sarcastically. I did this to highlight the fact that the band never left (well, there was a hiatus or two). They somehow eluded MY playlist, but have been around keeping a somewhat low profile consistent and patient throughout the last few years.

My falling out with OLP took place around Gravity. I remember blasting that album all throughout the summer of 2002, but subconsciously the plays dwindled out of my massive rotation. You can’t listen to it all, right?

I also remember seeing the band in 2001 at the Orbit Room in Grand Rapids and being impressed with the cult fan base they had. I seemed to be the only person (in the orbiting room?) who didn’t know every lyric to every song and feel the need to scream it along with the band vehemently. Especially, when lead singer Raine Maida turns the microphone towards the audience, flipping the vocal script of the show (most notably on “4am”). Many bands pull similar moves, but are rarely executed with such charming confidence. I can dig it.

Cut to 2012. The band is promoting their eighth studio album Curve and hopes to shed the perceived cookie cutter mediocrity of 2009’s Burn Burn and 2005’s Healthy in Paranoid Times. Even 2002’s Gravity marked a distinct fork in direction from the psychedelic surreal aura their early music created, in favor of a safer rock aesthetic, which for me is forgiven due to Gravity’s ability to remain rock-steady all the way through. Like a medium well sirloin steak, it might not be as juicy as the medium rare you ordered—it’s still better than chuck.

The show I saw at Bowery was an extraordinary effort from a veteran band that’s too good to fade into the sunset. With a cult fan base, and a continued desire to find what made OLP so unique in the first place, they should be able to retain a mid-size venue profile throughout the foreseeable future. The sold out Bowery Ballroom was eating out of the Birdman’s (Raine Maida is no closer to looking like the Birdman than he was in 2000. He hasn’t aged at all!) hand throughout the 17-song, double encore set. You can’t hear a song like “Starseed” live and not want to jump around and lose your shit.

I was surprised not to see “Somewhere Out There” or “Life” and especially live gem “Julia” to which I perceived to “un-missable” numbers in their repertoire, but I guess you can’t have it all.

Other highlights included:

• A delectable backdrop and projector unit that was set up near the back-side bar at Bowery. It must have taken up 6-7 people’s spots at the show. I wonder if they accounted for that when doling out tickets. It was remarkable packed in there, even for a sold out show.
• After a couple newer songs, the hit parade of (in consecutive order): Clumsy, One Man Army, Superman’s Dead, All My Friends, The Birdman, Is Anyone Home?, left me extremely nostalgic for the days of cruising the Lake Michigan coast in my ’87 Mustang.
• Raine Maida ventured to the balcony of Bowery Ballroom to sing, while hanging from the top railing like a crazy person about to jump. Part of me really thought he was going to jump!?
• The opening band, The Pack A.D., was a two-woman band on a mission. A drummer and a guitarist. The guitarist had long black hair, a big red guitar and was wearing a white shirt. The drumming was mechanical and the guitar licks were thrashy. Yes, it was hard not to think “White Stripes,” but even so, I thought it was a worthwhile rip-roaring rock experience when complimented with enough Red Stripes to make whitey’s like me dance.
• Seeing a lead singer passionately man a mega-phone into their vocal prowess never ceases to thrill me. I’ve seen many do it, none as proficient as Raine Maida.
• One of my favorites “One Man Army” was performed with a great deal of said mega-phone, ending with Maida wailing falsetto into the microphone from his knees. The zeal was chilling, as the vocals were the last thing to ring out of the song.

Setlist:
Allowance (1st song on new album)
Fire in the Henhouse (2nd song on new album)
Clumsy
One Man Army
Superman’s Dead
All My Friends
The Birdman ("we haven't played this in a long time")
Is Anyone Home?
Thief (acoustic)
Find Our Way
Angels/Losing/Sleep
Innocent
Heavyweight (new single)

As Fast as You Can
Paper Moon
4am

Starseed