The audience is young. In typical overenthusiastic teenage fashion, clad in overpriced hoodies purchased at the nearby merch table, they crowd the venue early and shove unabashedly in front of others. Somewhere in the back of the room, a baby cries. All ages means all ages, but Sleigh Bells seems a little advanced for an infant. At the rear of the stage is a wall of Marshall amps, haphazardly covered by a black sheet and topped with massive strobe lights. They’ll make their debut later.
Javelin, a two-man band from Providence, Rhode Island, is up first. From the opening note, their performance is peppy and bright and adorable. Quick, fun beats emanate from the drum machine and single cymbal that compose the whole of their percussion section. The drummer has shed his shoes and is thumping his sock-clad feet violently upon the floor. Most of tonight’s songs are new, so we audience members serve as guinea pigs for the well-polished material. The singer informs us that they began as a party band in Providence, Rhode Island, before popping a kazoo in his mouth to play the opening bars to Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage.” The homage is impressive, as is the masterful rhyme-spitting that accompanies this classic anthem. It’s a sped-up and pop-ified version, tailored perfectly to the band’s distinctive style.
Heads bob approvingly throughout the room, though it’s entirely possible most of these people weren’t yet born when the original “Sabotage” was released. Regardless, the band is on-point and clearly well-rehearsed. It’s also evident that the two members are close friends who have performed together for years. The singer pauses to apologize for their limited merch selection. “How about sex?” calls an audience member. “We got an unlimited supply of that,” is his reply.
Their final song features odd sound effects, the return of the kazoo, and a mishmash of samples that build on each other to become a sort of rumba dance party. It’s something entirely new, like we’ve all just teleported to a noise-rock Copacabana. Lil’ Wayne lyrics are interspersed with the band’s own, and the drummer’s frenzied stomping rattles the whole room. His ability to keep a beat while bouncing and wiggling is incredible. Too quickly, their time is up. They’ve provided the perfect lead-in for Sleigh Bells, and they deserve whatever notoriety comes their way.
Churchy welcome music plays as the lights go down for the headliners. The venue is steeped in darkness that warms to rich red light as the two guitarists appear. Much like roller coasters and anything else worthwhile, rowdy Sleigh Bells shows are contraindicated for pregnant women or those with fragile medical conditions. Fortunately I suffer from neither, and I’m ready to get lost in the band’s unrelenting noise. Vocalist Alexis Krauss bounds onto the stage in leopard-print shorts, exuding her legendary larger-than-life stage presence. She begins with “Demons” from the band’s more polished sophomore album, bringing the energy of a huge stadium show to the relatively small Roseland Theater.
The band prematurely chooses the ear-splitting “Crown on the Ground” as its second song. Audience members go appropriately berserk, crashing into one another and hoisting themselves in the air to violate the strict no crowd surfing rule. Alexis teeters at the edge of the stage, reaching out to clutch the many outstretched hands straining toward her. All three members stomp heavily on the floor throughout this energy-rich performance. Strobe lights blast pulsing beams into our eyes, and fog machines coat the room in chemical clouds.
As the set continues, Alexis sounds overly perfect. Her singing is near identical to the recorded version of each song, and her voice continues uninterrupted even as she thrusts her microphone into the crowd. Could she be pulling an Ashlee Simpson and performing with a backing track? It certainly sounds that way [sure enough, she canceled the next day’s show in Seattle due to laryngitis]. Once Alexis asks for the audience’s help on “Tell ‘Em,” it’s clear she is hurting. Assistance aside, she’s got moves like a boxer or a cheerleader. She springs around the stage, punching the air and doing spirited high kicks, prowling in circles and making frequent visits to the brink of the crowd.
The sonic crashes and flashing lights do not let up. Sleigh Bells play in a musical vacuum – nothing else can exist alongside them. They are sufficiently loud and powerful to banish every other ugly thing inside your head and take up residence. A boisterous “Infinity Guitars” marks the beginning of the end. The guitarists toast beers in the hazy background before stretching their mic stands out over our heads. Alexis barrels into the audience, microphone in hand, to float above us as she finishes “Rill Rill.” She forms her fingers into a heart shape and exits the stage. When she returns for the band’s encore, the backing track becomes more evident. No matter, the grandiosity of the show compensates for any prerecorded vocals. Exhausted and clutching an ailing throat, Alexis collects the Keds she has kicked off her feet, and she and her bandmates scamper away.
