Oh Brooklyn, Brooklyn take me in. How I love thee and the way you keep producing bands of the highest order. Bands that don’t skip over Portland on their way to LA and play intense shows for bottom barrel prices. But honestly, and since we are friends I feel like I can say this, when you sent Yeasayer and Sleigh Bells at the same time that was just pushing it. I thought you were going to give me a faneurysm. And I’m too young to die, happy or otherwise. So keep your phenomenal concert pairings under control or you are going to hurt somebody. I know I personally left the Wonder Ballroom with some serious ringing in my ears, but don’t worry Brooklyn, for that I blame Sleigh Bells.
And they should be blamed because they play like they are trying to make your ears pop. It’s blood loss loud but it’s worth it. Besides, the volume is just the lure that gets you to notice the hoodied figure punching out chords on his overdriven guitar and the raven-haired girl wailing over gigantic beats. And while Derek E. Miller’s guitar work might be the wind beneath your head-banging, the group’s real draw is its singer Alexis Krauss.
She pulls you in by channeling “wild,” harnessing the presence of a Karen O stage stalk and the power of that high-pitched throat canon that she calls her voice. The exaggerated hair flips, the seductive panting, and the ambulance-like wails from atop the PA, all add up to someone that was born to be on stage and the crowd ate it up. One fan liked it so much that when they dropped the beat out mid-song, he sent out “mooooooorrrrre!” into the silence. I’d like to think he spoke for all of us.
Songs like “A/B Machines” and “Infinity Guitars” were the highlights, crackling with an energy that gave credence to the buzz that is circling the band. And in the end they left with what every opener strives for: respect.
Yeasayer’s grip over our senses was secured the moment they walked out on to the stage and 4 egg shaped ovals lit up behind them. Unlike Sleigh Bells, Yeasayer preferred color over volume and the ovals radiated it out behind them, following every tempo and rotating between various hues of sherbet. I doubt I was the only one that felt like we had stepped into the middle of an Ipod commercial and as the show went on and some of the band members became silhouettes against the ovals, the thought only became more concrete in my mind.
Musically they greeted us with “The Children,” that pitch-shifted walk through Moog-land that opens Odd Blood. It signaled that tonight would be for those that love the science of sound and the chameleon-like nature of this band from Brooklyn. A place where nuances could be lost or studied, but musicianship would reign. We all found out later on that it would build up to an incredible height, but for now they were just easing us in.
With the rainbow lights radiating out, I started to feel like I was being sucked deeper into a spiral. The rhythms began building and feeding off each other, nursed by a group that knew how to enlarge styles, and create concoctions that fell outside the normal way of doing business. By the time they got to “Wait For The Summer” I was having a hard time not losing myself completely. I don’t know whether it was the Indian meets tribal chanting, their glorious harmonies, or the looks on the faces around me, but suddenly I reached a state of bliss. I knew I couldn’t have been happier anywhere else that night. It was like I found a home in the music and I let myself live in it; it was almost larger than life.
“I Remember” felt that way too. Not because it was a blissed out experience, but because of the way the crowd was responding to Chris Keating’s vocals. They threw themselves into it and suddenly a pretty little song about his first kiss with his one day wife had 100s of voices attached to the words, transforming it into something more like an anthem, rather than a simple ode.
Keating seemed to relish this moment and his role as the leader, but he wasn’t the only star. Anand Wilder, his partner in vocals, had his moments too. Particularly on “O.N.E.” which was about as close to a dance party as you can get. How couldn’t it be, right? The song reeks of 90’s club-pop. It is so 90s that Haddaway would beat up your grandmother to get a crack at that groove. And it shined in this venue, prodding the crowd with its slinky synths and delightful dance rhythms until that room felt like a sauna. Wilder milked this energy for all it was worth and after it was all said and done, he got one of the biggest cheers of the night.
Honestly, this concert was so good that it got me to start rethinking my stance on Odd Blood. Don’t get me wrong, I love most of that record but half of it has always come across as sloppy to me. Yet when I saw the songs live and could actually interact with them, they started to expand and leave what I previously felt was static behind. Even songs like “Rome” started to make a bit more sense.
In the end though, the best song on the album is the still the best song live and that’s “Madder Red.” A possible front-runner for best song of the year, “Madder Red,” is like listening to a warrior’s journey into the wilderness. A long, lonely walk of isolation and doubt, but this journey is not away from battle; it’s away from a relationship. The music is triumphant, but the words are sad. At one point, when Anand sings, “It’s getting hard to keep pretending that I’m worth your time,” Jarrod (another melophobe writer) looked over at me and said, “that line is so devastating.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.
I seriously could go on for pages about each song. Hell, I could spend a few pages talking about how this version of “2080” was one of the best songs I’ve ever seen live, but I won’t because that would be boring and self-indulgent. So, in fairness to you and your time, I’m going to leave you with my familiar plea after a fantastic show: please go buy tickets to this tour. Do it because we all need to check in to the places that can make us feel good and this Yeasayer/Sleigh Bells tour is a body high in concert form. Plus, you know you always wanted to be in an Ipod commercial.
