One bill. Three Pitchfork-championed NYC buzz bands. The finest venue in the city. All the elements were in place for this to be an indie rock ‘night to remember’ at the famed Bowery Ballroom on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, and, thankfully, it didn’t disappoint.
First up were Brooklyn-based The Antlers (not to be confused with Crystal Antlers, who are not to be confused with Crystal Stilts or Crystal Castles), whose first LP Hospice, released in March, has found its way onto many critics’ ‘best of’ lists for 2009. I wasn’t too familiar with The Antlers’ oeuvre prior to the evening’s festivities, but was left pleasantly surprised, and at times, in awe. With frontman Peter Silberman [below] doing his best Bon Iver impression - this is a good thing, by the way - the group played a selection of tightly-crafted, folksy indie rock anthems punctuated by massive emotional swells, courtesy of Silberman’s rising/falling falsetto, and plenty of reverb. Songs like “Bear” and “Sylvia” off the aforemention Hospice play like grandiose lullabies tinged with melancholy.
Cymbals Eat Guitars were next up. The group, based out of Staten Island, started out as a Weezer cover band before crafting their own, eclectic sound from a variety of musical influences. Their debut effort Why There Are Mountains was included in Pitchfork’s “Best New Music”, earning an 8.3/10 review, and the band is currently unsigned. Their songs sound, for the most part, like loud, lo-fi efforts that recall No Age, and the band seems to really wear its influences on its sleeve, a la Ben Kweller. Unfortunately, lead singer/guitarist Joseph D’Agostino proves very, very grating in a live setting. We’re talking tons of rock-star posturing, gallons of sweat, annoying college-dude-look replete with a ridiculous hat (which he donned mid-show), and mouth constantly open wide with his head raised towards the sky in orgasmic fashion. It was as if Nick Andopolis (of Freaks and Geeks fame) decided to front a hip, indie rock band. The whole performance came off very emo, and despite the considerable hype, failed to impress.
Lucky for us concertgoers, Brooklynites White Rabbits, one of the more underrated bands in New York - and indie rock as a whole - served as the night’s headliner. Is there a band of their quality and stature that plays as often in the NYC area? The band has been touring almost non-stop since the release of their critically-acclaimed debut LP Fort Nightly in May of 2007. Inspired by other eclectic bands like The Specials and The Walkmen, the six-piece employs a veritable cornucopia of instrumentation, with band members often switching instruments, and has garnered a reputation for delivering wildly energetic live shows.
They’re now touring in support of their sophomore album It’s Frightening, released exactly two years after their debut, on Radiohead label TBD Records. This hometown show came the day after White Rabbits’ fantastic performance on Letterman, where they won over an unfamiliar audience with a raucous rendition of “Percussion Gun,” the first single off their latest effort. Soon, the cozy environs of Bowery were awash in shaking maracas, buoyed by the zigzagging minor chord ivories of “Kid On My Shoulder,” courtesy of singer Stephen Patterson, who, when he sings, opens his mouth to a heretofore unforeseen breadth. And through this vast expanse, Patterson delivers sharp lyrics with some bite, smirking, “Stand in the back of the room say, ‘Man, why you teasin’? 'Cause if you just made one stylish attempt, you'd be convincing…” on the aforementioned hypnotizing ballad of Fort Nightly.
The band recruited Spoon front man Britt Daniel to produce their follow-up, and, in fitting fashion, whereas Nightly at times exhibited the recklessness cacophony of a debut, It’s Frightening is a more pared-down, tightly-constructed effort. In fact, many have been critical of their latest album for sounding too much like a Spoon record, as if this were a bad thing (“They Done Wrong/We Done Wrong” could be easily mistaken for an actual - very good - Spoon track). Tonight, the White Rabbits showcased mostly a selection of songs from Frightening, including low-key Wilco-esque tune “Company I Keep.” On the bouncing “Rudie Falls,” Patterson sighs, “While everyone's duking it out and taking names, well, I'll just take a number,” before proclaiming over and over, “I don't care at all!” “Falls,” and in particular “Percussion Gun,” are propelled by a pair of upright percussionists furiously pounding away on the drums. In fact, at various points throughout the evening there will be: up to four guitarists at a time, a spirited tambourine man, maracas and wood blocks, all of which are complimented by the harmonies of vocalists Patterson and Gregory Roberts.
Although the new ditties are plenty thrilling, a few of their more rowdy numbers off Fort Nightly still take the cake when it comes to live tunes. Tambourine-driven “The Plot” causes mass hysteria, both onstage and off, with its catchy chorus of “Whoa’s!” and the twinkling ivories/thumping bassline of “While We Go Dancing” inspires just that. The set was a bit brief by hometown show standards, omitting fan favorites like “Navy Wives” and their awesome cover of Bob Dylan’s “Maggie’s Farm,” but this is real American music, full of a vast array of actual instruments, devoid of all the fancy electronic furnishings. Sometimes, familiar elements, when pulled off with such a high level of skill and precision, approaches the sublime.
--Marlow Stern
