As Bostonist gets older, we find ourselves having a harder and harder time enjoying live music. Whether it's House of Blues staff waving flashlights in our faces or sucky sound at the Wilbur, we find ourselves more easily irritated by all manner of interference with our enjoyment. Fortunately, last night's WFNX Miracle on Tremont Street (featuring Passion Pit, Phoenix, and Spoon) was a show relatively devoid of interference (other than ushers enforcing the Orpheum's seating structure). However, it was also devoid of anyone older than us. Fortunately, this didn't ultimately interfere with our enjoyment of headliner Spoon, but it was a bit of a weird feeling.
Keep in mind, this Bostonist is no Grandpa Bostonist. She likes some of what the kids are listening to these days, graduated from high school in the 2000s, and usually feels more or less "with it." So feeling like the oldest person at a venue was a new experience for her. When waiting in line outside the venue, each fresh face looked younger than the last, until the rows of youth began to remind us of lining up for recess in elementary school (which we walked to 12 miles in the snow, both ways, you know). We began expecting to see children leashed to one another, hooked together by parents fearful of losing their progeny in the dark recesses of the Orpheum. The show started at a shockingly early 7:30 pm, perhaps to enable the young attendees to make curfew—or to bring their early-retiring parents along with them.
We navigated to our seats in row Z, ancient knees creaking as we ascended several sets of stairs, fighting past legions of young hooligans disobeying the Orpheum's strict seating policy. Finally, we were able to rest our weary selves in tiny, cramped seats that only exacerbated our arthritis. The kids, though, were all right: dancing like mad to Passion Pit's tinny yet infectious tunes, and singing along to every rollickingly poppy Phoenix song.
We missed most of Passion Pit's screechy falsetto pop, but were there in time to see Phoenix came out, keyboards blazing, with "Lisztomania" and continued on to other contemporary confections. The crowd was with the band from the beginning and stayed enthralled throughout a solid (even to our decrepit ears) set of pop songs that incorporated all the kids' Phoenix favorites, including "1901," "Consolation Prizes," and more. Even if some of our advanced-age show buddies couldn't be convinced otherwise, there is good reason why Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix (the band's latest) has been nominated for a Grammy. The band joins slick melodies with danceable beats, creating a fizzy concoction that's easy to swallow: a sonic 7-Eleven slurpee of sorts.
The sugar rush of Phoenix apparently tired out the whippersnappers, or maybe the kids just had curfew or something, because the audience thinned out a bit for Spoon—even though they were ostensibly the big name on the bill. Given that half the crowd may not have been born when Spoon formed in 1993, we can forgive them for leaving; at least it left that much more space for our old bones to stretch out.
As they did the last time we saw them, Spoon took a little while to warm up, launching its set with a slightly stiff "The Way We Get By" but quickly getting into the groove with "The Ghost of You Lingers" and really hitting their stride with "I Turn My Camera On" and "The Underdog." In contrast to the almost artificially sweet pop of Passion Pit and Phoenix, Spoon produce a more complex effect—umami, maybe, if you'd insist on continuing the taste metaphor. The band's music incorporates a fuller spectrum of life activities than just dancing, drinking, and having a good time, and Britt Daniel's voice has a rough, wistful tinge that can evoke pain or pleasure. It's gritty, guitar-driven rock: often fun, never boring, but always nuanced in its emotional and musical evocations. And it's honest, unafraid to shift from sheer, glossy pop to less friendly, more confrontational effects.
So ultimately, maybe it's right that the kids left early last night. There's definitely more to life than yelling "hey" when it's "20 seconds to the last call"—but that doesn't mean we shouldn't have a good time. When the youth of America grow up, though, we hope they start taking spoonfuls of reality along with their daily fix of passionate pop.
add to digg
add to stumble upon
add to reddit