Putting together a good lineup for a show is hard. Matching bands together that flow into a good set is a far more difficult task than it might seem to an outside observer. Still, it was odd to see a band like Lulacruza play at the Wonder Ballroom with recent indie heavyweight Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. The music didn’t fit well together and the scale of talent was far off from what one would have hoped.
Lulacruza is a two-piece band from South America, made up of Luis Maurette of Argentina and Alejandra Ortiz of Columbia. At first listen there’s really nothing too impressive about their live show. Their stage presence is about as compelling as a bologna sandwich, which doesn’t lend well to the repetitive, drone-y nature of their instrumentals. The crowd spent the majority of their set talking loudly over the music, yet clapped and cheered wildly each time they finished a song. Despite this generally positive response, their sound came off as an odd collection of noises, with each song blending into the next. Most of it was kind of pretty and ethereal, but lacked any real substance.
When Lulacruza wasn’t busy sounding pretty though, they really lost any semblance of talent they had previously been grasping at. Upbeat bass and drums beats were interrupted by abrasive electronics and kind, delicate vocals were taken over by misplaced sampling. This is a band lacking direction or structure. To top it all off, they ended their set with a ranting and confused speech about keeping the fire of community alive, a cliché piece of vocal drivel that could have been left out of their performance.
Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeros were a welcome reprieve from the music of Lulucruza. Clearly, this band was the reason that everyone was there and, as their set progressed, it was easy to see why. The band, which is led by singer Alex Ebert, came out on stage looking like a band of traveling gypsies. Ebert stood out as a striking figure amongst the group, dressed in a tattered white suit, sporting long hair and a substantial beard. He spent the majority of the show barefoot, dancing wildly around the stage.
With only one full-length album under their collective belt (Up From Below), the majority of the songs in their set came off of that. It was evident to anyone in the crowd that this is a band with a strong following. The hordes of sweaty teenagers and adults alike pushed each other around, surging forward into the stage just to be able to grasp at the band members for a moment of glory. A lot of people sang along, and those who didn’t whooped and cheered wildly.
This was more than just a packed show though. Seeing Edward Sharpe gives you insight on what it must have been like to see a concert back in the ‘60s (or what it felt like to be an extra in Jesus Christ Superstar. Same thing, right?). The amount of positive energy and the carefree nature of the audience was atypical for crowds in Portland. Usually, it’s a fight to get anyone dancing, but watching a band like this perform and seeing how happy they clearly were to be on stage making music, it’s hard not to feel good, too.
One thing that was funny to see was Ebert’s puzzled face as he suddenly became aware of the partition in the middle of the room that separates the minors and the 21+ side. After questioning the minor’s side of the venue for a minute and getting a cliff notes version of Oregon liquor laws shrieked at him from the crowd, he gave the kids a little treat and descended into their side of the audience. After walking around for a minute, he perched himself on the steps of the stage to intimately sing out into the crowd. This wasn’t the last time he would venture out there and he kept the crowd/artist bond alive by spending at least half his time crouching or sitting at the edge of the stage. That said, there was something kind and all inclusive about that moment.
The band’s set as a whole bounced between poppy numbers, like there oh-so popular song “Home,” and more epic, orchestral tunes like “Desert Song,” but their energy and enthusiasm never wavered for a moment. Singer Jade Castrinos was beyond adorable when she ventured out into the crowd on her own, walking down the middle with wide eyes and child-like curiosity in her face as she sang. After one encore, the band finally called it quits and readied themselves for one last song. Before starting though, they pulled up what seemed like half the audience onto the stage and had the venue turn the lights down low. Ebert politely encouraged everyone to sit down and, after a little coaxing, most people did. The group finished out the show in a room full of people softly singing as they sat enraptured by a soft, stripped down folksy number. Wound down and sweaty, there couldn’t have been a more perfect way for such a show to end.
