"I don't see any color besides black and white and like, tan," drawled the guy behind me, staring at Modest Mouse swapping guitars on stage between songs last night. "Do you? Maybe I'm just...high." High Guy behind me was, in fact, just high. Modest Mouse rocked gems from their full catalog in a spectrum of loud -- at times, glaring -- color. But he was on to something.
The Seattle sextet's show at Grinders in the Crossroads -- the band's first appearance at the outdoor theater in Kansas City -- was more mellow than the band's previous sweaty, raging appearances at the Uptown. Maintaining a laid-back vibe was an impressive feat, given that the band seemed to encounter a slew of technical difficulties from the moment they emerged from backstage.
Modest Mouse set the tone for the night with "Gravity Rides Everything," kicking out The Moon & Antarctica-era laid-back riffs with a levity that had the ambience of a backyard jam (which was fitting for Grinders' wood-chipped floor and Christmas lights). That is, Modest Mouse opened after looping the band's gong-like guitar introduction for more than a minute while a frantic sound guy tried to turn Isaac Brock's mic on.
It took a couple numbers for Modest Mouse to catch its footing after this mishap, and the band had to halt again to fix a badly out-of-tune guitar during the band's third song, "We've Got Everything." (This was a trend. There were several other instances where it was hard to pinpoint whether the band's angular guitar lines were dissonant or subtly flat.)
Modest Mouse never lost their shit, though. They didn't get pissed off, or uncomfortable; in fact, the band actually seemed to relax in spite of it. For most of the night, Brock -- whose passion is usually a vital, barely-restrained element in his shouted, shuddering vocals -- seemed like he popped a Klonopin and three beers, and decided to chill.
It wasn't a bad thing. Modest Mouse played a well-executed (if not perfectly tuned) set that seemed fitting for the beautiful, clear night downtown. (As evidenced by the palpable plumes of dank smoke curling from the crowd, Kansas City was down for a night spent lounging with Modest Mouse's mellow vibe, too. Example: "Fire It Up" served as narration, rather than instruction, judging from the dozens of glowing embers floating in the crowd.)
The energy shift was enough to make a case for Modest Mouse's residency outside, rather in the cloying, packed walls of the Uptown. The sweat and force are still present in Modest Mouse's set -- they're just tempered by the fact that fans can breathe. (And, more importantly, smoke: I spotted one forty-something guy in a New Pornographers T-Shirt actually holding a roach above his head, towards the stage lights, to light it with his silver Zippo. Impressive.)
Brock -- who later commented that he hates "this stage-banter shit" -- felt frisky enough to mess around with the crowd a little bit. "As an awesome gift from us to you, you all get to take home a woodchip," said Broc. "The Franklin Mint minted every chip you're standing on. No, not that one. That was here already."
Modest Mouse waited until after dark to roll out the torrents of noise. The band pulled off a stark, asymmetrical sound with thumping, backwater fervor in "Satin in a Coffin." Hoarse, punky screeches and heady horns burned with a snotty, brassy saturation. Afterwards, the band threw down with raucous, infectious energy in "The Devil's Workday," which had high school kids hopping and bopping to a furious banjo jam with redneck screeches for vocals.
It was in these numbers that Brock finally appeared in full-fledged glory, groaning like a Viking and hopping on one foot with his banjo slung around his neck. (Brock later commented: "Sorry. We're trying to figure out a way to play the banjo without it becoming a banjo-noose.")
Of course, Modest Mouse played some newer, radio-friendly numbers, too, from the band's 2007 album, We Were Dead Before This Ship Even Sank. These tunes -- namely "Dashboard" -- were met with rabid cheers of recognition. (Not from High Guy behind me, though. He only wanted to hear "Wild Pack of Family Dogs." I feel you, man.) The guys might have dialed back the rage a little bit, but it didn't dampen the vibe: after all, intensity doesn't come from loudness. It comes from intent. And Modest Mouse's sprawling songs have more than enough going on to arrest even the most intoxicated listener. (Just ask High Guy: "That was...beautifully orchestrated." Right you are, sir.)
*Sometimes, despite our best efforts, our photographers are denied at the door. It's a gigantic bummer. Sorry, guys.
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