As noted in our interview a few weeks past, this has been a tour-by-fire for Braids. Not willing to let the band forget Montreal, snow emergencies caused cancellations of show after show. For the last few east coast dates, lead guitar and vocalist Raphaelle Standell-Preston has struggled through sickness that made singing a painful process. But even with these touring challenges, the band looked none the worse for wear. Partly this results from strong friendships forged through high school and university life, partly because these four all possess a genial spirit towards music. They gathered together in clumps before fully launching into "Lemonade," Katie Lee and Taylor Smith working out tempos, Austin Tufts adjusting the cymbals. Their names all connote comfort, and it shone in a tight, yet brief set.
Having spent over two years crafting the songs on Native Speaker (released in January), the band approaches their music with a light seriousness. These are familiar songs, and Braids avoids the temptation to offer a rote rendition. Each member is placed in a U-shaped pattern on stage, opening toward the audience, each member continually making eye contact with each other. The connection results in tight syncopation, smooth transitions, and a vibe where each instrument and voice receives equal appreciation.
Braids simply makes beautiful music, and it blossoms on stage in a way that my tinny speakers and my words fail to reflect. Sometimes derided as an Animal Collective derivative, Braids does owe a debt to established progressive psychedelic bands that have made it safe for their sound to be heard. Yet, there isn't the same "jam" element of their music. My best attempt at a bumper sticker label would be "pop-centered Dirty Projectors."
For most of the Thursday night crowd at Brighton Music Hall, the main event was knob twisters and beat makers. I only caught the last song by Houses. It was nice, but I'm not sure why the normal duo of Dexter Tortoriello and Megan Messina was halved, with Tortoriello performing alone on stage. Help me out, you early birds who were at the show. After the beats dropped off, folks were polite through Braids' set, only since they wanted to conserve dance energy for Baths. Yes, it was a night for one-word-plural-noun bands.
Baths, the maximalist electronic nom de guerre of LA's Will Wiesenfeld, proved a winner. The deeply layered textures, all created or played by Wiesenfeld, forced movement out from the arms, legs, and heads of the sold out crowd. How could you not when directed by a man wielding a flock of mutton chops and heavy rimmed glasses, pumping and singing his way through spirited love songs? Certainly the audience had heard of Baths, erupting on hearing the angelic vocal scales that open "Apologetic Shoulder Blades." While the Boston scene is not noted for its embrace of ground breaking electronic music (dub intellectual?), Baths found a welcome reception and should feel at home in these colder climes.
