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April 13, 2005
PSEUDOSIX/RADAR BROTHERS 4/12
ICE GORILLA
I'll be honest: I walked into the Doug Fir last night an hour late knowing absolutely nothing about The Radar Brothers. Hell I was only expecting two things: one, Jim and John Radar, the aptly named Radar Brothers, and an evening of Portland's bread and butter - indy rock.
I was half-correct.
The tambourine shaking family band, ala The Partridge Family, I was prepared for were nowhere to be seen. Instead, a group of mopey-looking forty somethings, OBVIOUSLY not related, were strumming out pleasantly dischordant melodies on the Doug Fir stage.
My issues with the idea of live indy rock, at least the live indy rock I've seen, came to the forefront during this show. The balding forty year old who was either dinking out chords on his electronic keyboard, or churning out crunchy melancholic rhythm on his gee-tar, was undoubtedly a talented musician. His voice had an interesting variety, when actually varied, to it that brought substance to the otherwise hokey sounding lyrics (the majority of words I could actually make out seemed related mainly to rosebuds and various garden animals - I could be wrong). Everything sounded great, but a question burned in my mind:
What the hell is the audience supposed to do during a show like this?
I've been to a lot of concerts in my short life, and different genres invoke different crowd reactions. Rock equals sweaty men running into each other. Rap equals, at least in Portland, white hipsters nodding their heads and trying to look cool interacting with the emcee. And so on and so on. But standing in the Disneylandish (I would call it Log Cabin Land) setting of the Doug Fir listening to The Radar Brothers I couldn't figure out a damn thing that the audience should be doing.
Husticious told me, "people come to admire the craft." After thiry minutes of admiration, the length of the show with encore, I was ready to admire ten or fifteen beers to force me on the road to Sleepytown. Eventually it came to me though, the people around me were almost all couples. This was like a high school dance for hipsters, hell at one point I even saw people slow dancing. People came to this show to cuddle with their significant others. This was a fucking date function.
Now I understand the connection between music and romance. I've turned on a little G & R "November Rain" when trying to seal the deal with some cheeky young lass, but romance at an indy rock concert? I don't know about that. A live concert should get your heart pounding to dance or shake your fist, not hold hands with Betty Sue Nobody. Live music should make you want to swing your hips and gyrate your torso, not whisper saccharine romance into your gentleman lover's ear. I guess though with music this enjoyably soft and non-offensive, it's really the only course of action presented.
When the show had softly trickled to its end destination, and the lovers around me had disappeared into the shadows to sip overly-expensive cocktails and ogle each other through thick framed glasses I had figured something out: I would never need to see The Radar Brothers perform live ever again.
That's overly harsh. It's not that the show was painful to listen to, I've said it already, these guys are talented musicians, there was just nothing to their live show. They said two words to the audience, drudgingly plowed through nine songs and then waved their goodbyes. I stood in the same spot the entire time, uninspired to dance, uninspired to even shuffle. The band just made no effort, partly because of the mellowness of their musical choice, to connect with the audience. Each member seemed so absorbed with playing each song with their eyes closed, obviously totally "in tune" with the music (especially the drummer, who either loved drums more than Jesus, or had been on a heroin binge for the last three days - he was that into it), that they seemed to forget that an audience was even listening. They could've been strumming this music out in John and Jimmy Radar's basement and it all would've sounded the same.
Maybe I just don't know enough about live indy rock. Maybe I'm just not "hip" enough to "appreciate the craft," but I left the show unimpressed and happy that I had gotten in for free. I'm not shitting on this band, their music was pretty and I'm sure if I was trying to "get my freak on" or read the dictionary this music would fit nicely in the background, it just doesn't fit as a live show. Perhaps next time if they had a clown on stage, or a midget riding a horse, than I would be a little more entertained.
One final note: I missed out on Pseudosix, but Husticious's friend said the lead singer was "cute". Take that as you want.
DRINKS CONSUMED: three icy cold PBRs and something that made me tired like codeine, oh wait that was the music.
HUSTICIOUS
Calm down Ice Gorilla, calm down. Not all music events can be hiphop shows or Dave Matthews concerts. And categorizing the Radar Brothers show under "live indy rock" (I think it's actually "indie rock") is misleading; yes, the Radar Brothers are examples of independent music, but so are many, many other bands whose concerts are a decidedly different affair than what we saw Tuesday night. For every "indie rock" band like the Radar Bros. whose live performance is slow slow slow, there is an "indie rock" band like the Thermals, whose live performance is fast fast fast. Writing off all "indie rock" shows because of one slow one is a mistake, namely because you're going to miss out on some cool shit.
The show: I don't think the Radar Bros fans in attendance were expecting anything less, but even so, the band sounded and looked like they barely had the energy to stand, let alone play their instruments. The only chipper member was bassist Senon Williams, who eventually announced that it was he and his wife's one-year anniversary. "Yay," managed lead singer Jim Putnam, his face chalky, his combover brightened by an unhealthy sheen. Meanwhile, drummer Steve Goodfriend appeared to be working off about 10 hits of ecstacy; either that or he was just really, really high on life. A friend yelled at me once for comparing the Radar Bros to the Flaming Lips, but I stick by that statement—the Radar Bros' melodies swell and shiver and Putnam sings in an eerily beautiful croon. The Lips do the same thing, but it's kind of ironic, or at least hard to take seriously; the Bros however, are quite serious, and their lyrics reflect it—haunting images of death, murder, grief and loss profligate.
So yeah, I like the Radar Bros, always have, and though I maintain that no fan was surprised by their performance, I also agree with Ice Gorilla that this show was very, very slow and boring. And though I disagree with certain sentiments of Ice Gorilla's post, a show such as this does force me to wonder why I don't just listen to the band's album on disc and save myself the trouble. Though I disagree that a concert should always make you want to shake your booty and your fist or whatever, I do think that live performers, no matter what the medium, should at least try to have a modicum of charisma and energy. They're getting paid to perform after all. Yes, there's something to be said for the craft of music in and of itself—it is really hard to play music really well in a live setting, and in the end that's what bands are all about, theoretically: the music. A band can't be blamed for being all about the music (which the Radar Bros clearly are, as their music was excellent), and yet a band should be aware that the majority of their audience doesn't even know what the sound check is for. In short, a very small percentage of concertgoers are experts in the field of concerts, or even music for that matter; most go because they like some of the band's songs off their most recent album, or even more commonly, because they're simply lookin' for a fun night out. There's nothing wrong with having a little fun up onstage. Nobody expects the band to throw their hands in the air and wave 'em like they just don't care, but being completely morose and uncommunicative, unless the music is just amazingly gripping on its own, is dismissive of the people who paid good money to get in, and who don't know any better. The Radar Bros. could have indulged in some friendly banter with each other, for instance, or Putnam could have told some stories about the songs he was playing. It's cool when bands offer insight into themselves and into their music. As a non-music expert, I have no interest in seeing a band play exactly what they do on the record I already have. I want to be reached out to—I want a dialogue. I'd rather sit in a bar and drink and play Scrabble than sit in a crowded club and watch somebody do what I've already heard a hundred times. This is what the Radar Brothers did, and because they did, I will not go to see them play again (though I will continue to listen to their awesome records). "Indie rock" bands can play as slow as they want live, but they are not allowed to do absolutely nothing at all.
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Posted by H & IG at April 13, 2005 12:54 PM
