It's an odd phenomenon – a few dozen people collected in a room to hear a start-to-finish ukulele-heavy cover of a fourteen year old record. And yet, here we are, swaying and singing (and some of us dancing the Charleston) as a gaggle of earnest young men pay homage to Neutral Milk Hotel's much-celebrated In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Such is the power of a musical masterpiece. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Though three acts are listed on the marquee, tonight's performers are merely a rotating cast of musicians playing under multiple names. The first, composed of Michael J. Epstein with support from members of Golden Bloom, christened themselves "Michael J. Epstein Mix Tape" a few days ago. Mr. Epstein sports an absurd handlebar moustache and plays his acoustic guitar with aggressive fervor. The music is peppy and reminiscent of a bygone circus. For example, a butter knife serves as the rhythm guitarist’s slide. Though they aren’t residents, these gentlemen are so stereotypically Portland in the most wonderful way. Bonus points for rhyming ‘circumspect’ with 'tear-stained dress' on "Civil Engineering."
The sound is clear and solid at Mississippi Studios, adding rich depth to each song. With cheeky lyrics about using religion as an excuse not to get close to each other ("leave some room for the holy ghost"), this band no doubt makes the audience want to hug them. They are so darn cute. Mid-set, the bassist swaps his instrument for a tiny black piccolo trumpet no bigger than a shoebox. He plays a jaunty tune, and one can’t help but smile. Their music strips the gloom right out of you. As the first performance draws to a close, Mr. Epstein announces that they are now a different band for the last two songs. Darling Pet Monkey is their name, and they only play songs about items sold in the back of comic books; "X-Ray Specs" and "Sea Monkeys" to be specific. This teeters dangerously on the edge of excessive gimmickry, but never falls in.
Golden Bloom are up next, but they may as well have just turned in a circle and done a ta-da gesture. The members were all performing in the previous band, save for Mr. Mustachio. This iteration's songs are reminiscent of mid-90s mix tape fodder. I can picture Jordan Catalano surreptitiously kissing Angela Chase as a Golden Bloom tune plays in the background. This band is a perfect lead-in to the main act. After playing two songs of their own, they cover a song by the Philistines Junior called "the Mob Song." It's as charming as their proprietary material, and they perform it with glee. The band tips its collective hat to the Occupy Movement with the overly simplistic "Without the Money," garnering loud cheers from the group of anarchist wannabes huddling and heckling from the back of the room. Still, everything about this performance is a welcome embrace at the end of a long day. Following their penultimate song, the band’s singer tells us, "that was our last song and this is our encore" before diving into the finale.
After leaving the stage for a few moments to transition into Neutral Uke Hotel, the band returns to transport us to 1998. They inform us that they will be performing the album in its original order without a break, and that this is most definitely a sing-along. The stage is filled with tiny instruments including a melodica, two types of ukulele, a single drum, and the miniature trumpet. Begin "King of Carrot Flowers pt. 1." It’s a bit more subdued than the source material, but they find their stride quickly with the support of backup vocals from every corner of the room. Some audience members can’t help but dance; others stand stock-still and sing with their eyes closed. There is such joy in this performance, and it is reflected in the beaming faces of the crowd. We are united in our love of a truly flawless record.
The space comes alive with "Holland, 1945," as is to be expected. Before long, however, the singer is abandoned onstage to deliver "Oh Comely" shrouded in near-darkness. People sway. Those in pairs cling tightly to one another. We are having a moment. I wonder how they will manage the album's untitled instrumental track, but two of the members turn it into dueling ukuleles that capture the song quite well.
Too soon, they reach the album's end. However, we aren’t quite ready to let each other go. They return to their own material, playing songs from the Motion Sick and the Golden Bloom. These are men of many names. One such song, "30 Lives," is a reference to classic NES games and makes a bridge of the well-known Konami Code (up up down down left right left right B A start). The gamers in the audience share knowing grins as they act out the hand motions that accompany this tune. Finally the band decides to call it a night. They close with one last Neutral Milk Hotel number, "Song Against Sex," before bidding us goodbye. In his closing remarks, the singer talks of wanting to move to Portland. Why not? We are the city of oddball refugees seeking a better life; there’s always room for a few more.
To anyone who dismissed tonight’s heartfelt tribute in favor of Jeff Mangum’s forthcoming visit to Portland, shame on you. What it may have lacked in authenticity, it more than recovered in charmingly eccentric love. Who can argue with that?
