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By Andy Smith, Contributing Editor
2007.03
The touring collective that combines the Cold War Kids, Tokyo Police Club and Delta Spirit is a torrid indie-rock trifecta. After breathing and being at this shakedown of a show, fans and band members alike may need triage.
While each group apparently has its own van and the collaborative is not traveling in a schoolbus-cum-biodiesel-circus caravan (though the latter would be entirely appropriate), the vigorous crew has the spirit of a carnival-esque blues brotherhood and an old-school road show.
Combining one Canadian anti-rock ensemble with two rootsy California crews that sound nothing like California, the soul train started its engine in early March with shows in Minnesota and Wisconsin and will conclude with three sold-out nights at New York’s Bowery Ballroom in early April. (To catch the band’s own dispatches, Delta Spirit lead singer Matt Vasquez is bloggin’ it on MySpace, and the Cold War Kids have great picture albums on their homepage.) Fresh from SXSW and shows in Florida and Georgia, the whole enchilada rolled into “Nash Vegas” for a Saturday night show.
After Delta Spirit’s stellar, gritty Americana-laced warm-up set, the recklessly communal aroma of this unwieldy and wondrous thing congealed in perfect imperfection when Tokyo Police Club took the stage. First, TPC lead singer Dave Monks announced that the band’s drummer was sick and wouldn’t appear and to prepare ourselves for something special. What followed was a reckless treat in spontaneous seduction, and they rip through their EP at a ridiculous clip (it's under 17 minutes long). Unlike the electric minimalism of TPC’s recorded works, we instead witnessed an acoustic jam session that included members of Delta Spirit and Cold War Kids coming and going from the stage like air being inhaled and exhaled by God.
(Nathan Willett of Cold War Kids/Photo credit: Landin King)
Of course, this beloved chaos could have been a Crash Worship show in the 1990s or an evangelical tent revival in our very own Tennessee backwoods and actually was a little of both. In any event, the otherworldly and playful insanity delighted everyone in attendance, properly preparing the stage for the religiously awesome headliners who provided yet another version of this multi-band superjam during the riveting “Saint John”—a scary song about a man on death row—when all three bands took to the stage, wailed and walloped and stood atop chairs and piano benches, and banged trashcan lids and other found-object percussion instruments, during the middle of the headliner set.
A relatively new band with only one full-length CD called “Robbers and Cowards” to date, Cold War Kids have benefited from a beautiful blogospheric hype and an almost immediate backlash of anti-hype. But street buzz and pompous buzzkill alike couldn’t quell the enthusiastic throng of late teens and twenty-somethings that crowded around the stage. And unlike some shows where you wonder whether the alleged “fan base” actually listens to the record or knows any of the songs, a quick perusal of the pleased faces demonstrated without refute that these people had memorized all the songs and were mouthing along like the devoted choir rock fandom should be.
(Members of all three bands perform “Saint John”/Photo credit: Landin King)
A band with roots in religion (much has been said about the group’s meeting at a Christian college), the songs are all about raw, unmitigated sin and redemption. The addictive refrains don’t reflect the lead singer himself but a limber and literate lyricist who culls characters from the brink of wild wanderings and drunken destruction and brings them into the light of his tenacious yet forgiving vocal vision. Singer Nathan Willett’s archetypal everyman works the dayshift, has a family, gets wasted on Saturday, and tosses coins into the collection plate on Sunday. He’s been to war and to jail and testifies to the hell of humanity’s own folly. As good as this kind of reckoning is on a record, its torrential old-timey sonics are tailored to take on tour.
So, get with it, then! That’s what we did as the sound took us to the irrevocable melody and irresistible chorus, when music itself became the heaven inside the hell that helps us survive the day-to-day. Face-all-scrunched-up in an almost orgasmic expression, Willett hunched over his keyboard confessional, pouring out the communion wine with his power whine. With each piece a kind of moral catharsis complete with lyrical blood-letting, the audience becomes the priest, as if Willett just whispered these stanzas into our ears in private. This is nailed by this lyric from “Tell Me in the Morning”:
I confess to self deception
pull the lock and pry it open
they're pretending to be stolen
I am my own thief in the night
Without doubt, Cold War Kids produce primal and revelatory music that makes rock possible again, a new kind of badass, working-class white boy mystique that furthers much of the pure spirit injected directly into the underground by the likes of Jack White.
After so much sweaty jangle and swaggering jubilation, the band’s blistering stage presence is matched only by the fan’s admiration and affirmation. To satisfy the more dedicated, after the show, members of all the bands held court at the merchandise table.
Smoking American Spirits and speaking with focus and passion, Willett told me that he would only do this as long as his “intentions stayed sincere.” For Willett, starting the band was a surprise detour from a career as a high school English teacher, and he spoke with the sense that he’d one day return to that gig as his ultimate calling after rock music ran its course in his life. But magical stage presence, perspiring live delivery, and plain command of the song suggest that the Cold War Kids might have a real long time to go doing this rock and roll thing.
(Willett of Cold War Kids/ Photo credit: Landin King)
May I testify that all the blushing blogger hype only approximates the authentic article but is spot-on in spirit? And may the anti-hypers of the post-hipsterati find another band to bash. This is something too interesting and inspiring in itself. “The joy and misery,” Willett reminds us in “Hospital Beds.” “Bring the buckets by the dozens/ bring your nieces and your cousins/ come put out the fire on us,” he preaches with melody. And of course, his is a fire that a hurricane couldn’t put out.
For more information on Delta Spirit, Tokyo Police Club and Cold War Kids, please visit the following sites:
http://www.deltaspirit.net
http://tokyopoliceclub.net
http://www.coldwarkids.com
By Andy Smith, Contributing Editor
2007.03
The touring collective that combines the Cold War Kids, Tokyo Police Club and Delta Spirit is a torrid indie-rock trifecta. After breathing and being at this shakedown of a show, fans and band members alike may need triage.
While each group apparently has its own van and the collaborative is not traveling in a schoolbus-cum-biodiesel-circus caravan (though the latter would be entirely appropriate), the vigorous crew has the spirit of a carnival-esque blues brotherhood and an old-school road show.
Combining one Canadian anti-rock ensemble with two rootsy California crews that sound nothing like California, the soul train started its engine in early March with shows in Minnesota and Wisconsin and will conclude with three sold-out nights at New York’s Bowery Ballroom in early April. (To catch the band’s own dispatches, Delta Spirit lead singer Matt Vasquez is bloggin’ it on MySpace, and the Cold War Kids have great picture albums on their homepage.) Fresh from SXSW and shows in Florida and Georgia, the whole enchilada rolled into “Nash Vegas” for a Saturday night show.
After Delta Spirit’s stellar, gritty Americana-laced warm-up set, the recklessly communal aroma of this unwieldy and wondrous thing congealed in perfect imperfection when Tokyo Police Club took the stage. First, TPC lead singer Dave Monks announced that the band’s drummer was sick and wouldn’t appear and to prepare ourselves for something special. What followed was a reckless treat in spontaneous seduction, and they rip through their EP at a ridiculous clip (it's under 17 minutes long). Unlike the electric minimalism of TPC’s recorded works, we instead witnessed an acoustic jam session that included members of Delta Spirit and Cold War Kids coming and going from the stage like air being inhaled and exhaled by God.
(Nathan Willett of Cold War Kids/Photo credit: Landin King)
Of course, this beloved chaos could have been a Crash Worship show in the 1990s or an evangelical tent revival in our very own Tennessee backwoods and actually was a little of both. In any event, the otherworldly and playful insanity delighted everyone in attendance, properly preparing the stage for the religiously awesome headliners who provided yet another version of this multi-band superjam during the riveting “Saint John”—a scary song about a man on death row—when all three bands took to the stage, wailed and walloped and stood atop chairs and piano benches, and banged trashcan lids and other found-object percussion instruments, during the middle of the headliner set.
A relatively new band with only one full-length CD called “Robbers and Cowards” to date, Cold War Kids have benefited from a beautiful blogospheric hype and an almost immediate backlash of anti-hype. But street buzz and pompous buzzkill alike couldn’t quell the enthusiastic throng of late teens and twenty-somethings that crowded around the stage. And unlike some shows where you wonder whether the alleged “fan base” actually listens to the record or knows any of the songs, a quick perusal of the pleased faces demonstrated without refute that these people had memorized all the songs and were mouthing along like the devoted choir rock fandom should be.
(Members of all three bands perform “Saint John”/Photo credit: Landin King)
A band with roots in religion (much has been said about the group’s meeting at a Christian college), the songs are all about raw, unmitigated sin and redemption. The addictive refrains don’t reflect the lead singer himself but a limber and literate lyricist who culls characters from the brink of wild wanderings and drunken destruction and brings them into the light of his tenacious yet forgiving vocal vision. Singer Nathan Willett’s archetypal everyman works the dayshift, has a family, gets wasted on Saturday, and tosses coins into the collection plate on Sunday. He’s been to war and to jail and testifies to the hell of humanity’s own folly. As good as this kind of reckoning is on a record, its torrential old-timey sonics are tailored to take on tour.
So, get with it, then! That’s what we did as the sound took us to the irrevocable melody and irresistible chorus, when music itself became the heaven inside the hell that helps us survive the day-to-day. Face-all-scrunched-up in an almost orgasmic expression, Willett hunched over his keyboard confessional, pouring out the communion wine with his power whine. With each piece a kind of moral catharsis complete with lyrical blood-letting, the audience becomes the priest, as if Willett just whispered these stanzas into our ears in private. This is nailed by this lyric from “Tell Me in the Morning”:
I confess to self deception
pull the lock and pry it open
they're pretending to be stolen
I am my own thief in the night
Without doubt, Cold War Kids produce primal and revelatory music that makes rock possible again, a new kind of badass, working-class white boy mystique that furthers much of the pure spirit injected directly into the underground by the likes of Jack White.
After so much sweaty jangle and swaggering jubilation, the band’s blistering stage presence is matched only by the fan’s admiration and affirmation. To satisfy the more dedicated, after the show, members of all the bands held court at the merchandise table.
Smoking American Spirits and speaking with focus and passion, Willett told me that he would only do this as long as his “intentions stayed sincere.” For Willett, starting the band was a surprise detour from a career as a high school English teacher, and he spoke with the sense that he’d one day return to that gig as his ultimate calling after rock music ran its course in his life. But magical stage presence, perspiring live delivery, and plain command of the song suggest that the Cold War Kids might have a real long time to go doing this rock and roll thing.
(Willett of Cold War Kids/ Photo credit: Landin King)
May I testify that all the blushing blogger hype only approximates the authentic article but is spot-on in spirit? And may the anti-hypers of the post-hipsterati find another band to bash. This is something too interesting and inspiring in itself. “The joy and misery,” Willett reminds us in “Hospital Beds.” “Bring the buckets by the dozens/ bring your nieces and your cousins/ come put out the fire on us,” he preaches with melody. And of course, his is a fire that a hurricane couldn’t put out.
For more information on Delta Spirit, Tokyo Police Club and Cold War Kids, please visit the following sites:
http://www.deltaspirit.net
http://tokyopoliceclub.net
http://www.coldwarkids.com
