The Walkmen and Japandroids
The Bottleneck
October 19, 2010
One of the things that people often fail to understand―something that I sometimes forget―is that music is a goddamn job full of hard-humping, busted knuckles, late nights and loneliness. When NYC quartet the Walkmen stepped to the The Bottleneck's stage last night, they seemed a bit weary.
Even people around me commented on their lack of stage presence. Obviously, they were smack in the middle of grueling tour, so you have to cut them some slack. Perhaps it was the dimness of the venue, its dankness, its lack of charm. But for the first half of the band's set, I was aware that the band was working, at a job, and a bit uninvolved by their task. (To be fair, this came after the dumb-fun of Japandroids, whose art greatly depends more on their stage presence than their retrofitted muscle rock.)
Midway through their set, the band became much more realized. But even a subdued Walkmen song still burns with rage, colored in the soot of shimmering melodies, piercing organs, and singer Hamilton Leithauser's indicting and righteous voice. That voice―so distinct and all its own―is simply incredible. I understand how some people can get tired of string of Walkmen songs; Leithauser's voice is so singular and on the verge of exploding, that it can be dizzying. Yet during the Walkmen's performance―even in the band's slightly muted first half―Leithauser belted out with fullness, richness, and pointed pain that earned his more explosive moments and averted weariness.
The band was touring in promotion of their latest album, Lisbon, a perfect summation of a fine ten years by one of the best bands of the aughts. Opening with "Juveniles," which contains the classic you're-one-of-us-or-you're-one-of-them jibe, the band started on a jaunty note and piled through four more Lisbon songs. Where most bands might play hard on new material, the Walkmen's set was full of deeper cuts, a testament to their widening body of work.
For instance, the set's sweltering climax, "All Hands and The Cook," came from the slept-on A Hundred Miles Off. This one song truly sounded like it was on the verge of falling apart, threatened by Leithauser's frothy vocal delivery and barely held together by sustained organ. The Walkmen are masters of the sweet build and ecstatic release ("While I Shovel the Snow," "Victory") and sustained, roiling tease, as on songs like "On the Water" and "Blue as Your Blood." "All Hands and The Cook" had both, and it was the first moment of the night where I escaped into the reverie of the band's often haunting music.
Of course, your experience could have been different. Maybe the band got you on the anthemic "Victory." Or you were just waiting to hear "The Rat." You could have been suckered by the sweetness of "Canadian Girl." Either way, the Walkmen have an impressive catalog and can summon such fiery energy that even when they are little off, they are right on.
Critical Bias: This is the fourth time I've seen 'em.
Random Notebook Dump: Lotta of teeny-boppers, which Urban Dictionary defines as "stupid girls of ages 10-14 who squeal and giggle so much that Satan is willing to drag them back to hell."
Overheard in the Crowd: "Them not playing 'The Rat' is like seeing The Police and not getting 'Roxanne'." Then they played "The Rat."
Setlist
Juveniles
Angela Surf City
Woe is Me
Blue as Your Blood
Victory, Canadian Girl
While I Shovel the Snow
We've Been Had
All Hands and The Cook
Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me
Louisiana
On The Water
In the New Year
Encore
Thinking of a Dream I Had
The Rat
Are Japandroids just fun or just boring? The Vancouver duo are adequate at burning noise, but it never really amounts to anything other than jabs, stabs, and wracked sonics. Maybe I'm missing the point about Japandroids, my least favorite band with a Japan pun after Japancakes and Japanther. They are at least reckless, which is endearing. Fun too, but their music wore on me quickly, until it became boring. I want to like them, honest.
like
dislike
