photos: interpol + liars at wamu theater
It must be a thankless endeavor, opening for Interpol in expansive pseudo-arenas across the country night after night. If people manage to filter in by showtime [1], you’re playing to a group of people who probably shelled out their hard earned or trust fund dollars to hear the headliner. When the main attraction is a band who tend to cultivate a fanbase infatuated with gorgeous disaffection, the task of warming them up is all the more challenging.
This is not to say that Liars didn’t give it the old college try. Hoping that onstage enthusiasm might be infectious, or at least modestly transmissible to the rows of people huddled in the small space between the stage and the first row of chairs [2] Angus Andrew and the rest of the band really threw themselves into their set. There were onstage leaps, falsetto howls, big smiles, double drumming, suggestive calf-bearing, and a hearty tug on the waistband of his brilliant white suit. “Plaster Casts of Everything”, the most recognizable track from their latest self-titled album, eventually seemed to be working to win over modest affections. Coupled with some running in place dance moves and facial contortions at least on one guy who showed up late called out for them to play louder. A girl next to us inquired about whether he was drunk and it wasn’t clear whether she meant Andrew or the guy in search of hearing damage. Either way, the band couldn’t control the volume [3] and charged ahead. After bringing the rumbling sparse “Pure Unevil” to violent life, the smoky marble-mouthed slow dance “The Other Side of Mt. Heart Attack” [mp3] was a surprising change of pace, a lovely comedown, and a smart invitation for the curious to delve into their back catalog.
Contrary to Samantha’s twee-infused speculations [mb], the Interpol show was hardly boring. While there’s not a vast chasm of difference between seeing the band live and listening to their CDs, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. They are an incredibly polished and they don’t every stray too far from the originals in performance. It’s possible to imagine that Interpol and Liars as the consequences of starting in similar places and deciding to head out on different courses. While Liars explored the territory of raggedness, Interpol went off in search post-punk prettiness and found expansive melodies paired with opaque lyrics. [4]
The stage show is almost a meditation on isolation with each in dressed in his own era of dapper fancy attire spanning Victorian vampire chic to post-millennial monochrome, standing watch at his own outpost while contributing an essential piece of the Interpol puzzle. Rarely do they intersect with each others orbit or interact with the crowd beyond approaching the stage’s edge for solos or receding from the spotlight for a smoke. The set is a decent balance of the past three albums, opening with “Pioneer to the Falls” and following with a section dominated by songs from Our Love to Admire.
Although there’s a crazy-aggro guy who yelled his way into a better spot who uses every pause to call a couple songs from the new album, the bigger responses from the crowd when the dip back into Antics territory. “Slow Hands” is the most legitimately dancey track on the setlist and it works its magic, getting even the people in the seats to move around a little bit, and the set closes on a strong pairing of “Evil” and “Not Even Jail”.
While I felt minor pangs of disappointment that they weren’t playing my own personal favorite songs, I was relieved that the encore consisted entirely of material from their debut. The Turn On the Bright Lights trio of pretty soaring melancholic “NYC”, rapid near-upbeat “PDA”, and an extended version “Stella Was a Diver and She Was Always Down” reminded me of why I liked the band in the first place. I’ve seen them a few times, always in large venues, and they’re one of the few groups that I don’t long to see in a tiny space. They just seem to fit on a big stage with a light show. Liars, on the other hand, is a band that I really hope takes a smaller, grittier, more crowded club the next time they’re in town.
[1] and, despite good intentions, some just don’t make it on time [seattlest] — everyone has their painful moment of learning how arena show ticketing works [mb].
[2] really, was a floor full of folding chairs and a set of zealously-cleared aisles really needed for a rock show?
[3] Honestly, it could have been louder up front. An odd not-quite complaint for an arena from me, but it seemed like the massive speakers were optimized for not standing near the stage.
[4] How I wish that this t-shirt with the lyrics to “Heinrich Maneuver” wasn’t fictional. [bygonebureau]
