The Cinematics, Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin, and Mute Math. Thursday, April 12, at The Granada.
Review by Crystal K. Wiebe
Someone ... Yeltsin
The Cinematics opened an early, all-ages show at The Granada last night with a set of sculpted, vaguely goth rock that was often much dancier than the audience seemed willing to accept. “Maybe Someday,” “Strange Education” and “Break” brought to mind a handful of artists (VHS or Beta, Moving Units, etc.) peddling similar Cure and Depeche Mode-inspired stock in recent years and made me wonder when the '80s are ever going to end again. The Cinematics’ sound could be big enough to fill arenas, but whether it can stand apart from the crowded neo New Wave scene probably depends on marketing.
Springfield’s Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin played the loosest set of the night. A few songs in, most of the band traded instruments. The singer gave up guitar for bass and fewer vocal duties. The drummer-turned-singer and guitarist seemed to struggle with the coordination of doing both. His vocals were often unclear, but he engaged the crowd more, even getting a mass stomp started for a surprisingly twangy tune. All of the newer songs rocked harder and fuller and sounded more Midwestern than anything the band played off its 2006 Polyvinyl Records release, Broom, indicating that, yes, Yeltsin has outgrown basement recording.
The night’s headliner, New Orleans-based Mute Math, also included some proud Missouri players – guitarist Greg Hill and drummer Darren King. King, especially, seemed glad to be back in the area. At one point, he crawled on top of singer Paul Meany’s piano to praise Missouri and a sister who still lives here. King then called her to the stage because it was her birthday. The loving gesture seemed all the more sincere coming from a member of such a positive band. Mute Math’s experimental joy jams incorporated rock, electronica, tambourines and improvisation that occasionally evoked the Police and should go over well later this year when the band plays Bonnaroo.
Paul Meaney of Mute Math and his keytar thing -- oh, and the kids, too.
But all of the radiant instrumentals, lyrics about beautiful surrenders and the teenage hands waving above the crowd began to make me feel like I was at a worship concert. My boyfriend’s observation that he recognized one song from church confirmed my suspicion later. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Meany used to be in an overtly Christian group before toning things down for Mute Math. Whatever Mute Math’s message, it’s adorned by playful showmanship. Propelled by smiling energy, Meany abused his piano with stomps and fists. The whole band broke out in percussive jams more than once, with Meany rapping a beat on his piano stool. Other toys incorporated into the hour-plus set included a keytar and an upright bass. I can’t even name the device Meany dragged out for the final song of the night, “Reset.” He wore it like a guitar or keytar, and, though I couldn’t see any strings or keys, it belted wah wahs whenever he or the waving hands in the front row touched it. Yes, the spectacle was excessive, but tell that to the waving hands, and, well, you do the math.
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