You know how really hot and/or anointed cool people don’t have to try too hard for … well, anything? They exist and the rest of us are just super amped to bask in their chiseled-featured, self-aware yet aloof aura. That was the deal with Black Rebel Motorcycle Club during their stint at New York City’s Webster Hall.
The ungodly early 8 PM show was packed to the gills with adoring fans (a bizarre mix of shaggy haired hipsters and ‘cover your eyes, it’s so embarrassing’ drunken and ‘khakied’ suburbanites) that reacted as if the Rapture was upon us. Maybe it was, because when the gents kicked into “Shuffle Your Feet,� a fun little hootenanny, the kids started pounding along with their shoes and swaying to and fro like it was a Sunday night revival. But then it got…how should I say this? Oh, right…it got boring.
Let me say this: BRMC is good. They are deft musicians that, with their Americana/gospel loving third album, Howl, dropped their early shoegazing Jesus and Mary Chain vibe. They then brought back the very same vibe for the subsequent tour. Throughout the show, there was hardly any interaction between the crowd and front men Robert Been and Peter Hayes; regardless, they played a fine set that alternated from the rollicking (“Ain’t No Easy Way�) to the quiet (a lovely “Devil’s Waiting�). But it was just that - fine. Maybe it was Webster Hall and its “drop it like it’s hot� booty bass that was bleeding through from the dance club below, or perhaps it was nerves. This was addressed during a rare moment of clarity when Been apologized to the audience for a technical glitch during “Awake.� They then rallied and finished the song, before letting it be known that this was their largest NYC performance and were grateful that everyone showed up; the drunken “brahs� loved that.
After the love fest was over, the band got into their groove and jammed as much as a moody and brooding band can jam. The acoustic friendly encore would have been pleasant in another venue where one didn’t have to deal with the booming madness below, but alas, we were stuck. By the time they were ready to take it to like, 7 or 8, the show was over, and it was time to open the doors to the kids in Bang Bang apparel for their one hour drink specials and a shot at getting an STD.
The moral of the story is that the crowd loved anything BRMC was willing to throw out, but for a non-fanatic it felt flat and uninspiring. Nerves, a bad venue, and technical glitches didn’t matter to the majority of the masses, once again proving that the cool kids are always loved - whether it’s deserved or not.
