'Twas the night before Halloween, and all through the Palladium, many creatures were stirring, not least a spandex pig feigning fornication with a bare-chested Kevin Barnes. Such antics are nothing new by Of Montreal standards, though it's more than enough to elicit pity for the preceding act. But a spunky, gyrating arch-android named Janelle Monae would not be overshadowed by the veteran performance artists. The pop songstress was the perfect complement to Barnes and company, exhibiting an engaging stage presence, spot-on vocals, and an epic wave of hair towering above her youthful face.
Monae's energy was matched by her supporting cast, a funky batch of hip-rockers infused with a dose of neo-soul. The set, which included a somewhat tepid duet with Barnes, was otherwise littered with catchy dance tunes from her critically acclaimed concept album The ArchAndroid, and was highlighted by a delicate rendition of “Smile,” the Charlie Chaplin song popularized by Michael Jackson, among others. Monae floated emotive riffs between the gentle strums of her electric guitar with the aplomb of a nascent Ella Fitzgerald.
Then Of Montreal hit the stage, and it was apparent that the band had gone the way of Kevin Barnes' pecs: beefed up. The group featured new members including a permanent drummer, violinists, and miscellaneous soundsmiths who allowed Barnes the freedom to frolic. He hopped from one side of the stage to the other, whining sassy melodies, croaking lasciviously, and grinding his pelvis on whichever man, woman, or bizarre costumed entity crossed his path.
As expected, the set was False Priest heavy, but delivered re-worked classics like “The Party's Crashing Us” and a generous number of crowd-pleasers from Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?. The newest songs seemed to suffer from the fact that Jon Brion can't produce them live. This isn't to say that the False Priest numbers were bad – they were full and warm, but they didn't embody the bounce that the Of Montreal faithful have come to expect. The show concluded with “The Past is a Grotesque Animal,” a pounding, synth-heavy opus teeming with brilliant guitar interplay and Barnes' trademark tortured vocals. It was a must-see show for any and all enthusiasts of the experimental indie-pop genre.
Over the years, Of Montreal has established consistency in their jarring, absurd theatrics. But the show that sold me on the band was back in 2004 at a small venue in Ann Arbor called the Blind Pig. There were no cages, no silly masks, no five-minute interludes of ham-tossing and nonsensical mimed skits. Sure, Kevin Barnes appeared in a wedding dress, and changed costumes more than twice. But there's no veiling musical genius. I pine for the day that Of Montreal streamlines their energy into the gloriously weird music instead of trying to make it weirder with absurd props and superfluous extras.
