After a morning spent jumping off a mountain and witnessing an angry bus passenger break a window, my friend and I arrived at the Capitol Hill Block Party hoping to keep the excitement rolling. Even from down the block, we could see that the main stage crowd had already swollen beyond the largest intersection and was spilling down side streets, up trees and onto rooftops.
We moved (shoved, whatever worked) through the crowd of people, vendors and trash to reach the all-ages Vera stage, just in time to catch the last beat-box tune from the Scribes. Fortunately for my somewhat crowd-weary companion, the next act, Man Plus (particularly their lead singer Jared Mills) brought a much-needed enthusiasm to the stage. With Mills’ intense stare, his charming brogue accent, and (dare I use the following phrase to describe an indie rocker?!) his writhing movements, Mills hooked the crowd into Man Plus’ up-tempo beats. I enjoyed the synthy, poppy keys and appreciated how the quick riffs of guitar and bass meshed perfectly with the lyrics. (Exemplary lyric: “Do you think you look good? / Because you look like a whore!".)
While Mills thrashed around the stage and precariously stood on the drums, only vocalist Ellen Mills (the "plus" in Man Plus) dared rival Jared’s crowd interactions. Contrasting Jared’s frenzied antics, Ellen told the audience, "I'm sorry, but I'm getting distracted by Jared's tooth. It’s so shiny."
I definitely recommend catching Man Plus live, particularly at a smaller venue. In case you need more convincing, their MySpace page sums them up nicely: “A radio station broadcast from a very queer dimension where lovers are serial killers and friends are deadly witches!”
Following the energetic romp of Man Plus, we sampled some strange organic smoothies and waded our way over to Fleet Foxes. While I enjoy Fleet Foxes and their lovely harmonies, the long-haired, plaid-clad (the term used at my college was "hippy Amish") band was not quite energetic enough to justify standing in a tightly packed crowd full of smoke and stray beer. (Check our recent Fleet Foxes concert review for an injection of enthusiasm). Thus, we braved the masses in the beer garden to catch the always entertaining Chromeo. Now here’s a group suited to the energy of a large, eager-to-dance crowd. Replete with neon lights and "Christmas Story" legs supporting their tables, Chromeo mixed funky live bass and guitar with recognizable beats and samples. Though not too familiar with Chromeo’s music, I was quickly drawn into the many-armed spasming funk fest.
After Chromeo’s sunset dance party came New York sweethearts The Hold Steady. From all the singing and smiling faces in the crowd, apparently everyone else in the world (or at least that dense three-block radius around the stage) is intimately familiar with the Hold Steady’s tunes. Reminding me a bit of the Violent Femmes’ nerdy mix of sung/spoken style lyrics and upbeat rock, I enjoyed the set. Clearly the band and the attentive crowd enjoyed it, too. But for this reviewer, after a long day, the rock thing wasn’t quite fueling me; thus, I anxiously waited for DeVotchKa to take the stage.
And this is the moment to warn you that I can’t speak of DeVotchKa without being ebullient. Despite the slightly ill-suited venue (too large and open for their intimate orchestration) and the band’s apparent weariness, they gave a wonderful performance-- perhaps a testament to their theatrical roots. As always, Jeanie Schroder (literally) sparkled, bobbing up and down in time with her sousaphone; violinist Tom Hagerman drew whistles from the crowd with his quick bowing; and percussionist Shawn King left his drum kit to blare out his trumpet on the more Latin-influenced tunes from DeVotchKa’s most recent release A Mad and Faithful Telling. The show also included a healthy dose of tunes from Curse Your Little Heart, including Nick Urata’s crooning vocals on "I Cried Like a Silly Boy."
Urata seemed to be suffering from a sore throat, and his worn voice added to the haunting, raspy quality of his singing, especially when blended with the almost cosmic sounds of the theremin. This effect, combined with the clopping percussion and accelerating strings, created an atmosphere not unlike that of barreling down a red lit tunnel in a creepy haunted house ride. Quite a feat for a large, outdoor concert! And did I mention Urata’s sweet whistling?! (I warned you about the gushing.) All said, despite minor sound difficulties, a random fan display (one sad minute of watching an undersized security guard chase a gangly man around the stage) and a finale sans aerial silk artists (see photos of the lovely Slavic Sisters in our previous DeVotchKa concert review in Seattle), DeVotchKa left the crowd stirring all the way through their final bow.
Don't believe that melophobe really loves DeVotchKa? Look! Another DeVotchKa Concert Review, this one from Boston!
