Previous to entering The Bowery Ballroom this Saturday, my knowledge of Wintersleep, Wild Light, and The Stills was limited to my brief MySpace search from the previous day, but I appeared to be alone in my ignorance, as skinny-jeans-and-Converse clad New Yorkers flooded through the doors. To my amazement, and despite the sold-out status of the show, I was able to get a spot next to the stage, which was the best decision I made that evening. Being so close to the band illuminated every minute detail. The idiosyncrasies of musicians can often be missed when one is located at the back of the crowd. Standing at the edge of the stage though, I heard the short, whispered discussion among Wintersleep members about the arrangement of the final two songs, and I saw the detailed Tiger tattoo on one of Wild Light’s member’s arms.
Wintersleep, an Indie band from Halifax, Nova Scotia, took the stage first. Overall, they were a fun band to see in concert. The sound rang throughout my body and I felt the music as well as heard it, a fact I’m sure I will regret in my later years when I will repeatedly yell “what?” any time someone speaks. The vocals and drummer were the highlights of the show. While listening to them, I was reminded of learning to write essays. Professors always ask, “where’s the meat?” when you drone on a bit, hemming and hawing and moving around the subject for a paragraph before finally saying in one sentence what you should have said from the beginning. Wintersleep took their time getting to the “meat” of their songs. The guitar riffs at the beginnings of their songs droned on, simple, repetitive chord after simple, repetitive chord. However, once the introduction was over and the chords began to vary, the song strengthened and thoroughly demonstrated Wintersleep’s talent. I would say Wintersleep holds the promise of any quality scholar if they just did a bit of editing.
Following Wintersleep, Wild Light, a band from New Hampshire, took the stage, guitarists facing the drummer. As the first notes rang out and the song began, first one and then the other guitarist turned in a choreographed move to face the audience. The crowd loved it. Wild Light achieved a goal so many bands strive for in performances: versatility. Guitars were traded for keyboards as the night went on, and band members continually switched instruments with one another. Most impressive to me was their ability to switch lead vocalist. Having attended The Goo Goo Dolls concert and heard/seen the disaster that can arise from switching lead vocalist, I was impressed to note the vocal talents of multiple band members. My companion at the show, though, was less than impressed, leaning towards me to whisper, or, rather, yell over the steady stream of music, “The vocals aren’t very good, are they?” I had exactly the opposite reaction. I thought the vocals were real, raw, and up-front, which made them great. I could hear the quaking strain in their voices and not only did it remind me I was at a live show, but it elicited an emotional response that a perfect, sweet voice would not. Hearing the raw vocals, I felt I was glimpsing the heart and soul of the band. Even the drummer, who had no microphone, sang along, unable to hold the music inside, needing to release it. At the end of their performance, I was impressed and left wondering if Wild Light could possibly be as good on CD as they were in performance. Having now purchased their EP, I can say the CD is no letdown.
Finally, the moment the crowd anticipated arrived. The interlude music faded, the room went dark, the crowd hushed, holding its collective breath in anticipation. The Stills, dressed head-to-toe in black, took their place on stage, and the first note was struck, marking the beginning of an amazing performance. Though the song continued, the lights remained off. This tantalized the senses. First, the sound hit us. Minimal lighting crept up, illuminating the profiles of band members, teasing the audience. Suddenly, the lights blazed up and fully illuminated the stage. Sound and color and lights overwhelmed my senses. The minimal lighting at the beginning of the show emphasized that the focus of the evening was the music. It was refreshing to have this seemingly obvious point crushed home.
Despite starting out in the dark, the band had the strongest stage presence of the evening, making use of the entire stage. There was no subdued strumming with the guitarist stagnant. The band members whipped and threw themselves into their music. Heads banged, muscular arms hoisted guitars, and faces screwed up in concentration and passion as that one guitar riff took control of the moment. The music ruled the band, and they, in turn, ruled the audience. If for a moment I was distracted by my note taking, I was ripped back to the show when a drop of sweat from the drenched hair of a the head-banging bassist flew onto me; when a guitar neck swung towards my head as a band member took to the edge of the stage; or when a drumstick suddenly began wrapping fervently on the speaker six inches from my nose. The band forced the audience into the experience completely, allowing for no distractions as the music swept us into living riff-to-riff, note-to-note. We clung to the experience with barely concealed expectation, waiting for what would come next: what new level the band would take us to. We were there to experience The Stills, and the band allowed for nothing less than 100% audience participation in the experience with their commanding stage presence, catchy choruses, strong vocals and lyrics, and their wicked instrumental talent.
I stepped into the cold night air feeling giddy, revved up by the energy of the bands and the crowd, and thrilled to have found three new bands to add to my iPod. This concert definitely made it onto my top five.
