Portland’s once-upon-a-time nickname of "Little Beirut" was revived for Ratatat’s most recent visit (and they say G.W. Bush did nothing!). The carnivorous nature of the crowd ate up Ratatat and chewed up the openers as they saw fit. Don't let the plaid shirts and hot pants fool you: we're ruthless.
Bobby Birdman was the first to grace the stage and was a perfect harbinger of the night, even if the crowd was tepid at best. A mix of surf and noise, Bobby’s vocals suffered the most, coming across as a garbled mess. The visuals were impressive, but the synced-up voice tracks were a constant reminder that there was little spontaneity in the set. There was also the unfortunate habit Birdsey had of standing in front of the stage just so—which gave the audience a 20 minute crotch silhouette.
DOM is getting a fair amount of buzz in the indie-circles of late; and it was clear that they were more polished (though just as scruffy) as Birdman.The crowd was chanting “Ratatat!” 15 minutes before DOM arrived and the chant continued……all the way into the first song. It was unclear if this was fervor or misinformation, but either way, it was an awkward note for DOM to start on. The hype definitely helped the band, and they barely seemed to notice that they weren’t the main attraction. As their set went on, DOM had a great time with their clicky-surf-swagger-pop and there were hip thrusts and screams for all. It felt great to have the feeling of summer seem so alive and well, but we were snapped back to reality when two lonely balloons began to bounce among the crowd. Once they made their way to the stage, DOM collected them and stomped the air right out. Then he went on to another guitar solo to wrap the set up. The gentleman next to me said “those guy made my ears hurt,” which I can’t dispute, as that might be what DOM had been aiming for.
While waiting in line, I heard upwards of a dozen people talking about this show selling out in less than ten minutes. And the crowd was done waiting by 11 pm. There were chants, crowd surfing and mayhem for any number of crew prepping the set and checking the holograms. And when Ratatat finally took the stage, the screams of contentment nearly drowned out the band’s slow build of “Bob Ghandi.”
The major critique that surfaces with this band is the lack of vocals. But Taj and Gaz put that doubt mostly to rest as they rocked out for a solid ninety minutes to an audience that only wanted more. I say mostly because despite the Waffle-Haus patterned light show and stoner visuals the songs started to blur together (especially when the visuals started to be recycled). Would lyrics make more an improvement? Perhaps, but the shtick of two guitars ripping it up would be put in jeopardy. And limiting musical elements is certainly something a few other bands could learn from.
The night’s set was heavy on the LP4 tracks,“Drugs” “Neckbrace” and “Mandy” all showed up. The LP3 songs that surfaced were still the most embraced. “Mirando” and “Shempi” were the early stand outs, with the guys nearly disappearing in the dark recesses of the stage while the screen above and holograms to the sides showed some creepy birds and a camouflaged duo ‘playing’ the strings’ parts. This was a kinesthetic crowd: there was the usual swaying and head-bobbing along with ballroom dancing, drunken twirling, waves of moshing and more hands up than an AP English class. Right through to the encore, the background beats seamlessly matching the images detracted from the raw, spontaneous talent of the two gents. As an experience, the show was tight, pretty and swarmed with sequined girls with glow sticks. And isn’t that enough?
