image via josh

Every time I see Visqueen live, their set just sort of disappears. They come out and play some songs, and Rachel Flotard is ridiculously charming, and the next thing I know they’re going, “Ok, we’ve got two songs left for you,” and then they just vanish. I don’t know how they do that, how they fold time so that a set that takes 45 minutes feels like 2 minutes, but I always feel a little cheated at the end, and I have no real recap of the show. All I can do is recommend that you never, ever miss Visqueen on stage.

Bill Coury, my favorite Visqueen bassist yet, is no longer in the lineup, but he was in the audience being almost equally amusing, dancing and mouthing the lyrics. (I’m sorry, Barrett Jones. You are a very, very good bass player and I’m sure you’re a real nice fellow, but you are no fun to watch.) I’m sure I’ve said this before, but: If I am ever stranded in Kansas with fields on fire all around me and all of my worldly belongings in the car (again), Rachel Flotard is the sort of girl I want in my passenger seat. She could trade a pack of gum for a new transmission and leave the other guy feeling like he’d gotten the better deal.

During the changeover between Visqueen and the Walkmen’s set we noticed that the mix at Neumos seemed really bass heavy–that, or they were playing a new mix of a bunch of Beatles songs remixed specifically for bumping in your lowrider. (Seriously, who knew Sargeant Pepper had so much bass?) After sending one guy out to do a final, random soundcheck, the Walkmen took the stage, with Hamilton Leithauser carrying on a seriously beat up guitar.

I really want to like the Walkmen. I love that their lead singer is named Hamilton and that they use a piano onstage. Bows and Arrows was mostly a good album, and both the pushy, driving sound and the vocals have such promise. And maybe it’s the promise that makes me so disappointed with the band, because it never really delivers. It feels like the band is keeping a secret, and just when you are deep in between the guitar and drums and almost about to figure it out, Leithauser leans back and lets his compelling Bob Dylan voice reach a terrible screech, and the moment is lost. After a while of not letting the audience in on the secret, a sound that starts out colorful quickly fades to something dull.

But clearly, there are people who are in on the secret, people who understand, and those people were all there on Saturday night, packing in close to the stage. The room was not full, but most of the people who came out were there to see the Walkmen, and they seemed to be having a great time, pumping fists and shouting out the names of their favorite songs. They never did play “The Rat,” which is arguably their biggest hit, but the crowd brought them back out for a three-song encore. As we walked out, not waiting to see if the requested second encore happened, I heard a guy remarking to his companion, “That’s the thing about Seattle audiences. They’re always good for an encore.”