My night started off poorly when my memory relapse resulted in myself being trapped within a Malkin Bowl sans the beer kiosk. A blurry combination of false mental images and inflated hopes and dreams had deceived me into thinking once through the threshold I would still have access to a tasty beverage. Alas, this was not meant to be. And I was all out of vitamin water.
On a decidedly more relevant note, I was not the only one who made an egregious miscalculation. For a great deal of the attendants on that mercifully warm fall day, failed to realize that they ceremony they were soon to bear wear witness to was not just The National, but The Walkmen as well. Nearly an hour and half late and we were only a couple rows behind some accommodatingly diminutive people, and just to the right of center stage- a good angle for all the tambourine to come. This was even after a longer and more indecisive than usual foray into the t shirt kiosk. If I wasn't so smitten with my current proximity to the stage, I might have been more vocal about my surprise regarding the scarcity of the populace. Didn't everyone there know who The Walkmen were? Were they not inundated with excitement? This wasn't some local group that got lucky or post modern nu-wave french art house whatever band that had a single picked up on by 130bpm or Pitchfork. This was the cussing Walkmen. Further investigating into the issue yielded similarly displeasing results. While discussing the whole affair the following day with a friend, she conveyed surprise that they were even still around. Yes, The Walkmen very much continue to exist; Lisbon cam out a month ago.
Fittingly The Walkmen have always conducted themselves a such a band. Even though their body of work is increasingly vast, garnering a gluttonous amount of accolades. They performed their set with out even a hint of pretension or grandeur, nary even a sentiment of their own worth. They made no fuss at all as strolled on stage, stealthily even. A great deal even failed to notice; I was even surprised when the background music disintegrated beyond any audible spectrum to be replaced by The Walkmen's stylings. Where did they come from? Beyond that, the group on multiple, even excessive occasions took the time between songs to graciously thank us all for letting them play. We weren't doing them a favour to have them here; we should be so lucky. It didn't take long for apathetic crowd to take notice and pay very close attention.
Starting with “Blue as Your Blood” off the new album, Lisbon, one thing became absolutely apparent; Hamilton Leithausers voice translates from studio to stage perfectly. His screeches, moans, swelling and bellowing wails were just as they sound on the albums. No inferior audio equipment to distort or obscure it, no post production trickery that they failed to replicate here. It was damn near perfect. This is not to say it was some hollow facsimile of the groups studio work- it certainly carried the weight and echo of a voice right in front of you bursting through a tower of speakers. So often at a show, a singer's voice, will seem muted, stale, in need of some mixing and balancing; specificaly such wonders that the live stage will not afford. His grating, cacophonous slurs needed no such adjusting.
I recently said that The Walkmen's music was becoming less and less aggressive and delving further into a mellow contemplative template. Those with a remedial knowledge of the group who attended the show would no doubt disagree with me- and rightly so. The band certainly picked the most energetic and intensive samplings of recent albums. Tracks including “Angela Surf City” and “Juveniles” which I can comfortably assess as the best tracks of the new album. Oddly they choose to omit “Stranded” their first single and probably most emblematic of the bands new direction from the night. Did they not have a horn player? Surely their reasoning was more than logistical obstacles. I won't go as far as to say I was bothered by it, just a little surprised. Nevertheless, even songs that were preformed with a modest amount of gusto and a moderate tempo on the album, were put on display with a raw fiery urgency. On “Juveniles” in the album, when Leithauser says “You're one of us or one of them” he is surely trying to convince us; on stage when he said it, he was desperately and achingly pleading to us. I'll refrain from going as far as to say he was screaming, but he definitely stepped up the vocal fidelity.
To continue, The Walkmen played a very good set, wisely picking the strongest tracks off of You & Me such as “In the New Year” and “Canadian Girl”. Sometimes there's no better way to fall in love with a song than to be forced to hear it live. I never gave “On the Water” much more than a second listen; hearing it on stage resulted in a swift and illuminating epiphany. But they failed miserably in the one area requisite to make it a great set; they didn't play “The Rat”. How the hell could they not play “The Rat”? I can only imagine the adrenaline bleeding fury of seeing that song live; that's right, I can only imagine. Actually they didn't play anything off of Bows and Arrows which was also more than a little distressing. On a more optimistic note, they did play “We'd Been Had”. I had completely forgotten about that song. I no longer retain the reference points within my own memory as to when or at what point in my life I played that song constantly like a beat on repeat, so it was hazy, albeit pleasant trip down my own nostalgic corridors. The Walkmen did themselves justice on stage, bolstering their own worth with a very wisely constructed set list- mostly.
As The National took stage, it was starkly apparent that unlike The Walkmen, this was a group that had gone to some length to cultivate a more specific and designed stage persona. Their seemed to be a little more pomp and circumstance to go with their entrance; one could theorize that it seemed this way in part because at this point the night had grown dark enough to accommodate something of a light show to accompany the bands introduction. Thankfully their attempt to craft a stage presence that seemed bolstered by some theatrics in no way hampered their efforts to put on a show- and a good one at that.
While relying heavily on their most recent album High Violet, they still delved a great deal into previous albums. A lengthy set window and broad body of work certainly accommodates such an approach (read- they played a lot of songs; not as long a set as Spoon earlier this year, but enough to gt your money's worth). Whereas The Walkmen broke my heart just a little when they didn't play “The Rat” it was quickly mended when The National played “Afraid of Everyone”. On the album it is haunting and macabre; performed live its down right bone chilling. If I had a caveat to preaching the song's merits its that it fizzles out in a limp and abrupt way- not so with this rendition for they extended the ending with an instrumental solo after Matt Beringer had finally run out of breath.
On the topic of running out of breath, while I may not characterize Leithauser's performance as one full of screaming, I can certainly affix such a description to Beringer. While he certainly yells on the album as much as the next disaffected existentialist, on stage he his piercingly loud and coarse. It was quite a feat that he could transition from subdued crooning to such outbursts and back and forth. Others at the show seemed to think I was too appeasing of Beringer vocals stating instead that he skirted to close to each side of the inaudible bandwidth, at times mumbling a little too far under his breath or assaulting an audiences' already strained ear drums. I liked it. Their live act consisted of a number of other slight deviations when compared to their albums- and for the better I think. Having a considerable affinity to horn sections I was delighted at how prevalent the single trumpet and trombone were in a great number of songs. Even in songs like “Blood Buzz Ohio” where a horn section is minimal at best in the studio version, it was quite prominent here. I suppose with all live acts, the bass section seems to take on a more commanding presence, but I noticed it especially with The National (it didn't really seem to be the case with The Walkmen). Songs like “Terrible Love” and “Runaway” Had a much heavier bass spine. One can't necessarily say that qualitatively makes them sound any better, but my preferences certainly were catered to. Having said that at times the band got a little to carried away and went from loud and passionate to “lets make their ears bleed”. Towards the end my friend's and my own right ear was becoming something of an apocalyptic lost cause. Granted we were pretty close to the right speaker monolith, but goddamn. Remember that scene in Star Trek II: Wrath of Khan where that parasite boars its way into Chekov's ear? Ya...
I was unable to ascertain any kind of consensus among the small pool of attendants and fans I interrogated when trying to find out which group put on the more memorable and enjoyable show. The bellicose and thundering Leithauser and The Walkman, or the volatile and draining emotional roller coaster from The National? Both acts were thoroughly satisfying, but for money, I'll give it to The Walkmen (of course, I didn't actually pay any money for my ticket).
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