Beauty is not an elaborate stage setup, intricate lighting, or contrived stage antics. A concert should, theoretically, exert the same aural splendor when the concertgoer's eyes are closed. It takes a certain musical prowess to overcome the hurdle of a large venue without superfluous production. Some bands have this skill, a no-frills approach to captivating a room of 6,000 people. Explosions in the Sky, only equipped with their instruments, their souls, the Texas flag, and Radio City Music Hall's acoustics, delivered a set that took the Freytag's Dramatic structure associated with post-rock and obliterated it.
Crowd members consistently seemed anticipatory. Knowing the band's catalog allowed the audience to let their hairs stand on edge, their muscles tense, and their hearts stop just before the climactic catharsis of any given song, subsequently letting loose a flood of emotion with every thunderous transition. Straying away from the prototypical "Quiet Part/Loud Part" format of much post rock music, EITS allowed for the organic growth and buildup of their small symphonies. The echo of the bass drum in Radio City Music Hall was chest pounding, and when met with the high pitched screech of tremolo picking and its companion crash cymbal assaults, the music hall became an ocean of pure sound. From the buildups to the climaxes, each moment of ambient noise was embraced by audience members extending their arms out to soak in the sound at their favorite moment.
I can only imagine that every couple squeezed their hands harder during "Your Hand In Mine," and every post-rock enthusiast let loose a large breath when that one "moment" hit. Guitarist Munaf Raiyani swayed, guitar hung low, and clutched his chest before unleashing barrages of distortion; Michael James literally punched the strings on his guitar to emit reverberating crunches that shook the floors. At no moment was there a lead player - only a cohesive uproar of instruments for eight minutes at a time, only to be bridged with slight feedback.
The band only spoke twice. Munaf thanked the crowd and the openers once at the beginning, and briefly spoke to the beauty of the venue. At the end, they offered just one last thank you before walking off the stage, characteristically not coming back from an encore. (They never do.)
Yet, all the while through the set, there were no words, and much like the fancy lights, none were needed.
