Previously Unreleased

When Jimmy and I decided to brave the kind of unbearable heat usually reserved only for those who have taken up residence on the sun (or for Eugene Morris Jerome in “Biloxi Blues”) and head to Williamsburg’s McCarren Park pool to see indie’s reigning band of the moment Death Cab For Cutie, we were expecting a strong live performance from the group who had continually showed such brilliance on its recordings over the last few years. A few hours later, and in the midst of a drenching downpour, it was safe to say those expectations were dashed and the only thing that could be considered as a silver lining on this disappointing night was that I actually got a seat on the L train out of “Hipster Hell”.

From the moment I arrived and was greeted by the pierced, seemingly tourette’s syndrome suffering girl who handed me a flyer for a future Gogol Bordello show at the pool, I entered the venue’s cavernous gates and knew I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Whether it was the asthma inducing humidity or the hordes of skinny jean clad, clever slogan tee wearing (yes, I even witnessed an appearance by the elusive “DIKFORE” ringer tee), $125 haircut styled with the grease of not showering for a week, just got back from a garage sale held by the members of “The Hives”, unfiltered cigarette inhaling, microbrew swilling scenesters or the pre-pubescent scantily clad, sign toting, text obsessed children of the corn who looked like they got lost on the way to “High School Musical On Ice”, all I knew was this was quickly becoming my least favorite place to see a show.

First up were opening act Rogue Wave, who were met with as much enthusiasm as Rick Ross at an all you can eat buffet. The crowd barely made a sound until the openers played their only recognizable number, the M&M advertising ditty “Lake Michigan” which elicited a polite ovation from the seemingly annoyed crowd, whose conversations had just been interrupted so rudely by what looked to be a hard working group of performers who deserved better.

Right about 8 pm, the skies darkened and the fog machines went full blast to welcome the highly anticipated headliners to the stage. Those of us hoping that the sound problems would be resolved in time for DCFC’s foray, which were so glaring during the opener’s set, were immediately disappointed. As lead singer Ben Gibbard strained to be heard above the music (the instruments all seemed to be at the same level as the vocals) on “Bixby Canyon Bridge”, it was clear that the best we could hope for on this night was a strong stage show from the Seattle quartet. While the band played a balanced and well thought out set mixed with both fan favorites “The New Year”, “Soul Meets Body” and the wonderful “Crooked Teeth” as well as new compositions “Long Division”,”Grapevine Fires” and “I Will Possess Your Heart” (which sounded much better live than on the album) , the overall show suffered from a lack of excitement and showmanship. While the girls howled over Gibbard’s obvious weight loss and newly added mutton chops, the frontman’s non existent stage presence and quickly grating movements (he looked like he was standing on a broken sit and spin as he continuously toggled beween both sides of his microphone) made this performance quite bland and unenjoyable. (What was with the constant spitting on the stage as well? If anyone should have been spitting, it should have been those of us left with a horrible taste in our mouths after paying $50 for this underwhelming spectacle).

The night’s only highlight (and it didn’t take much to be a highlight on this night) was when Gibbard stood alone in a spotlight and offered up a hauntingly beautiful rendition of the group’s ode to endless love “I Will Follow You Into The Dark”. An appreciative audience sang along, hooked on every word, but once again he missed out on an opportunity to take the show to the next level by relinquishing the song to the crowd and embracing the massive sing-a-long even for a few lines. This gaffe combined with numerous technical problems and terrible sound had me hoping more for an end to the show rather than an extended performance. After two more disappointing songs, it seemed mother nature was agreeing with me. As the band was about to launch into their hit “The Sound Of Settling”, guitarist Chris Walla commented on “the interesting light show going on” behind the crowd. The lightning began to fill the sky and the thunder crackled as the remaining crowd bellowed along with DCFC “Baa-Baa-Baa”. But as soon as the wind began to pick up, and the lighting rig above the stage bounced in the air like Rosie O’Donnell on a bungee cord, Gibbard and Co. cut bait on their abbreviated performance and thanked the crowd for coming to a smattering of boos. Moments after they left the stage and the assembled mass made their way through the gates, the skies would open up drenching all who had not yet gotten to the G or L subway lines.

As I walked along Driggs Ave., jumping over puddles and cursing the heavens on my way to the Bedford Ave. station, I found myself thinking about two things. One, I hope that in a few weeks when I return to McCarren Park to see DJ Shadow and Cut Chemist, that the sound tech working that night has a semblance of a clue. Second, DCFC proved to me once again that the artists who can translate the magic of their studio work to the stage (i.e. Gnarls Barkley, Kanye West, The Killers) are few and far between and should be greatly appreciated when given the chance to see these artists live. Maybe on another night with better sound, DCFC could deliver the goods, but after seeing last night’s abysmal overall performance, I would say the odds of that night ever coming to fruition are slim and none.

Photos: Brooklyn Vegan