Music critics tend to approach Oxford, Engand's five-piece Foals in one of two ways. Either they dedicate the bulk of their words trying to define their sound (post-punk, post-rock, post-dance, post-disco-klezmer-core, and so forth); or they write metaphorically, perhaps to avoid such a challenge ("Foals is like a songbird stuck in a tin can, fighting for survival"). And defining them is, indeed, a challenge. Their two albums, 2008's Antidotes and 2010's Total Life Forever greatly differ from the other, a mix of complex hook-filled dance tracks and atmospheric digressions, heavy on manic rhythms and reverby vocals.
So let's lay this genre-defining task to rest, and talk about what Foals do in a live setting. Foals rock. They jam. They keep the rapt attention of an audience for over 90 minutes--no lagging, no loss of energy. In a word, Foals slay. Having attended dozens of shows this past year, I can't recall a more diverse and more attentive crowd. Spanning a large age range, including plenty of minors, the crowd was willing to dance to both the upbeat, thumping songs like "Electric Bloom" and the slower, moody songs like "Spanish Sahara." I didn't hear one obnoxious call for a specific type of song, unlike your typical popular indie act, with, dare I say, fair-weather fans ("Just play Alligator"; "Play "The Rat!" On repeat!"--actual things I've heard this past year).
Displaying their mutual appreciation, singer Yannis Philippakis repeatedly thanked the crowd, saying it was a "dream come true" to play to such a large group of people, especially considering the small crowd they played to in Boston during their last stop in 2008. Foals certainly deserve these larger live audiences. The five musicians commanded the stage, with Philippakis and Jimmy Smith alternately shredding their guitars, and Walter Gervers offering a thumping bass to punctuate the spastic drums. The show seemed to follow a suspenseful narrative arc, the relentless rhythms building a tension that had to be broken in a climactic finish. That climax came in Philippakis destroying a floor tom with almost frightening emotion. The band followed suit in a deconstructive jam, leaving the stage with the unresolved notes still hanging in the air, before returning for a two-song encore. Pulling back to their popular dance tracks, Foals started that encore with "French Open," which saw the most crowd movement of the evening, and even singing, with the crowd chanting "D'air sur la, d'air sur la, d'air sur la terre" along with the band.
For a band that may be hard to define, Foals' live show proves an impressive and unexpected cohesion. Though the albums are enjoyable on their own, the true way to appreciate Foals is in person. And not to undermine the talents of the other musicians, but Philippakis' gorgeous falsetto is worth the price of the ticket alone. With an undeniable likeness to My Morning Jacket's Jim James, I'd be intrigued to hear some subdued solo work from him--perhaps under the name Yannis Yilippakis?
