From the tangled mess of fist pumps they came, barreling in for hugs and intense eye locks with the man in white. His aura was a magnet for the sweaty, and his call a champion of release. Around him the music charged forward with a cheerful sort of heaviness, asking for as much energy as the crowd would grant it. And like some fool-hardy Texas Hold 'Em players on a red-eyed booze bender, they responded by going all in. The stage was their dance pit, their landing strip, their launch pad, and their photo booth. There were no restrictions, just cohorts and power chords. Chants and headbanging. This was our Monday and it was our chance to celebrate 10 years in the life of a rowdy record: Andrew W.K.'s I Get Wet.
The stamp of IGW was everywhere, on the backdrop, the t-shirts, the drum heads. Each carried an image of Andrew's nose gushing blood, a visual version of the album's fight song and a reminder that an infamous rock picture sits on top of its top sleeve. Powerful alone, that image cried out, "Do it big. Get wet with fluids until you know you are alive." The crowd was visibly excited, and ready for the aggro-anthems that made that record a rocket pack for after work escapists to be turned loose from their cages. The internet told them it was going to happen. It told them that he was going to play IGW from top to bottom. They just had to wait until he flipped the party switch.
When the first notes of "It's Time To Party" hit, his fans turned into a churning set of impulse movements. Some chose to take on the same crazy eyes that Andrew was donning, throwing their arms wildly in the air like they were sport boxing some imaginary gorilla. Others smiled and gave their control over to the spirit hand steering the crowd through its staggered jerks. But everyone was singing. Simple go the words to an Andrew W.K song: "You/You fight that fight/And when you're fightin' you feel all right." It's not deep, but it makes people go, "damn, right!" And while you may laugh, remember that's same rub that Springsteen throws on his lyrics every time he steps up to the plate. The working man's song. The "let your hair down" ditty. Springsteen wrote "Night." Andrew wrote "Party Hard." Different styles, same trigger.
But while Springsteen goes off into the heart of Rock 'N' Roll rootville, Andrew W.K. nabs the Boss' keys and throws in a little butt rock to create a sound that is as thunderous as it is positive. Live, he coaxes out the feeling just a little bit more by stacking the stage with four guitarists and an abundantly happy hype woman (aka his wife). Does he need all those guitarists? No. Do you need that 7th drink? Not usually, but both options fit to the music. And this music encourages more from you than your average song. In fact, it orders you around with easy-to-follow tips on what a great night needs. You just have to make your offering and come out to play a game where the rewards are measured in sweat, and the amount of times you decided to keep going.
After an animated performance of IGW, Andrew W.K. cycled through some of his other songs from The Wolf and Close Calls With Brick Walls. Less congealed than the IGW tracks, the songs retained the enthusiastic drive of their predecessors but lacked their hooky nuances. This caused the latter half of the show to take on the feeling of a mental cooldown after a hard crescendo. I suspect many in the audience silently felt ok about this, and/or any chance to rest before "We Want Fun," the final song of the evening and the last chance to rejuvenilize yourself out on that floor. It came on triumphant and strong, with no thought to high brow and no desire to be anything other than an ode to revelry. "We want to have fun, and we want to get wasted." It was the poetry of a Friday night mind, brought home on a Monday. An outlet for the young who don't want to know any better. And probably, a way for AWK to bring more people in for the real thing. Mission accomplished, sir.
Before AWK, odd things were happening in the Evaporators' set. This quartet of Canadians, led by the Internet-famous interviewer known as Nardwuar the Human Serviette, brought their slappy-happy punk stylings to some delightfully confused onlookers with a sort of flair that's usually reserved for the silliest forms of mental patients. Always entertaining, the band played odd songs about milkshake murders and Mario Cuomo's days pumping gas at DOMO, and dressed in matching maple leaf sweaters (or a leotard in Narduwar's case). It was so eccentric that I honestly can't pick a favorite part. Narduwar being carried (which he requested often) through the crowd as the band played "You Are So Beautiful," ever so gently in the background is a contender. As is the time he removed most of his clothes, threw on gorilla boots and made everyone sit on the floor until he said jump in the air. And like most situations where someone is unflappingly confident, many of us followed his lead just to see where he would lead us. We just went merrily along as cheery passengers of the insane train. I wish more bands went for it this hard. And I wish more crowds went along with them.
