I’ve always had this odd vision that at some point in my life, I’d be able to go back and figure out every concert I’ve been to in my life. And while it has occurred to me that as I get older, it’ll be harder and harder to remember the shows I saw the first summer I was allowed to go to a concert (1994 for the record), I somehow think I might manage it. But it’s not just the show itself I want to recall… I want details. I want setlists. I want photos if possible. I want to know who I went to the show with. I want anecdotes, on and off stage, of things that happened that make me smile.
I’ve always thought of it as a Concert Chronicle.
And thus, I begin.
I’ll spare you some of the personal details that I’ll jot down for my own records and stick with a review.
Now, let’s acknowledge right off the bat that I’m far from the best reviewer you will ever read. It’s something about my intolerance for bullshit, I think. For example, when I was trying to find a setlist and some photos for this review, I came across the LA Times review of the same show. Written by someone named Margaret Wappler, I found myself cringing throughout it as she stretched for obscure references and big words to try and make herself sound more than she is. That’s not me saying she’s dumb by any means. Hell, maybe it means I’m dumb because I don’t know what she’s talking about.
But to me, it means that I don’t have any desire to make you guys look for a dictionary to read a review. It also means that I don’t have any desire to wax poetically about how a song “spun the polite masses into a modified manic state, as they responded to the song’s pressurized, prankster joie de vivre.” And yes, that’s a quote from the aforementioned review.
So, in true dated Joe The Plumber fashion, I’m gonna give you “plainspeak” and hope that you’re okay with it.
Let’s talk about the venue. Anyone who hasn’t been to The Music Box in Hollywood is missing out in my opinion. It’s not the fanciest place – it won’t inspire visions of an opera house or anything like that. And it’s small, consisting of a barely-there “dance floor” and a several rows deep balcony (where I sat for this show.) But it’s not ungodly hot. The seats are comfortable. It doesn’t smell like a punk club. The bathrooms are nice. There’s a bar plus an outdoor patio. They’ve even got a brewery attached to the place now. Of course, you have to pay $20 for the privilege of parking next door to the joint but hey, it’s Los Angeles. You deal.
A word of warning about this place though – something I didn’t notice on our first visit to this venue (a Kate Nash show) is the INSANE volume levels. Now, if you like your music loud (as I tend to at a concert), you will love it. But I can easily see someone with ears a bit sensitive being quite uncomfortable at the decibel level. To prove my point, I had attempted to record some of the songs during the set on my iPhone’s Voice Memo app – a practice that worked quite well during The Killers show at the Hollywood Bowl last year. This time? Not so much. The volume capped out and turned everything to static. If you listen to it, you know what it is… but barely. So, I’ve opted not to include those songs in this review as I’d planned to. Sorry.
Another word of warning about The Music Box – the only two shows I’ve been to there have both had doors open at the “start time” listed on the tickets which means the show is probably starting 30-45 minutes later so adjust accordingly. Us? We were there before the time on the tickets which left us with a long wait outside where we got to see some of the local Hollywood crazies including a “ticket broker” who was offering “big money” for tickets to the show in between hitting on girls in line. Hawt.
ANNNNNNYWAYS… we took a second row seat in the balcony upon entering and waited… and waited… and waited. After the predicted 30-45 minutes, the opening act took the stage. Now, I have to say… I don’t know if it’s the Music Box owners or the bands I’ve seen there but the opening acts at both shows have been completely unique and surprisingly fun to watch.
On this night, it was a band called Very Be Careful. I knew we were in for – at minimum – a unique experience when four guys walked on stage. One with a standup bass… one with an accordion… one with a cowbell… and one with something that resembled an old milk bottle. Now, you would think this would create a distinct sound and… well, you’d be right. But I dug it! There were people all around that sounded annoyed by this very Latin sounding music – one of the dangers of thinking outside the box for an opening act.
SIDE NOTE: When I was in college, I used to bring bands on to campus. It was a ton of fun and gave me exposure to conversations with some unique individuals. One such individual was the manager of a band that consisted of… well, four pretty boys. They had a very radio friendly sound… very polished. I enjoyed the music and thought very highly of the manager so I used them several times throughout the years. At one point, they were being considered for an opening act slot on a 311 show. When I expressed surprise since they sounded absolutely nothing alike and didn’t seem a good mix, he noted that most promoters (and bands) choose to put on opening acts that are completely different because you never want your headliner to be overshadowed by someone else doing their schtick better than they did.
Back to the review.
Soon enough, it was time for the Main Event as Vampire Weekend took the stage to the sounds of “Let Me Clear My Throat” from DJ Kool. Somehow, it seemed fitting as the band members bobbed their heads back and forth to the hip hop song while getting ready to start their show.
And start they did, launching right into “White Sky” – something right in line with their typical sound – fresh off the new album “Contra” that had been released earlier that day. I myself had made the purchase sometime after midnight on the iTunes Store so that I could get a listen or two in before the show. ”White Sky” was the perfect way to start the show, that quirky blend of the unique instrumentation and the sailing vocals that Vampire Weekend has quickly become known for.
The show hardly missed a beat – although I’m sure others would argue that point. I enjoyed myself throughout the night, loving the new songs and the old favorites equally. It’s always interesting to see a song performed live that you know well but the sign of a great band is the one that can keep your attention when playing a song that you’ve never heard before. I’ve seen a lot of pretty famous bands have problems with that very thing. Vampire Weekend, most certainly, does not.
Whether it’s lead singer Ezra Koenig’s enthusiasm just bubbling over at all times, making even the most serious person crack a grin or drummer Chris Tomson beating out a rhythm that made me dream of the entire Vampire Weekend collection being put up on Rock Band or my personal favorite, Chris “Don’t Call Me Scott” Baio on the bass dancing around and having a good time – a show that quickly put him next to No Doubt’s Tony Kanal or the Mighty Mighty Bosstones’ Dancing Guy on my list of “fun people to watch on stage, the band just looks like they’re having the best time of their life. And that kind of enthusiasm and joy from a band is always a pleasure to watch.
The best compliment I can pay the band is that almost the entire set, I realized I just had the goofiest grin on my face but I couldn’t help it and honestly, I didn’t really want to. I wanted to keep that smile there forever because everyone was just having such a good time – I don’t think any of us really wanted it to end.
And so it went, sailing through new songs that I quickly grew to adore like “Holiday”, “Taxi Cab”, and “Diplomat’s Son” to those long-held favorites from their self-titled debut album like “Oxford Comma” and “A-Punk.” Even when they had technical difficulties, I didn’t mind – although it held tradition of an artist having to restart a song at a Music Box show due to technical problems. Even the completely ridiculous auto-tuned sounds of “California English” couldn’t help but make me laugh.
By the time we’d hit the end of the night and the band tore through an encore of “Horchata”, “Mansard Roof” and “Wolcott”, the latter echoing with cries of “get outta Cape Cod tonight”, I suppose some folks were ready to hit the streets of L.A. and head home. Me? I could have stayed longer as I had gone into a show expecting a fun time and got rewarded with one of my favorite concert experiences I can recall.
If you are the slightest fan of their music, you do yourself a great disservice by not doing whatever you can to check them out live.
Oh, and don’t forget to smile.
