Live Review: Manchester Orchestra at The Knitting Factory [8.16.07]

It is hot and there is smoke rising off the stage, swirling in the lights and then, presumably, attaching itself to the upper reaches of the Knitting Factory. There is no visible explanation for the smoke nor does anyone seem overly concerned by its appearance. We are either actively ignoring the old adage, "where there's smoke, there's fire" or we figure if something was really wrong, we'd probably be dead by now. Either way, it adds an unmistakable sense of foreboding or anticipation, something approaching a dangerous potential energy. But we're not scared. We're interested. Where there's smoke, there's fire? Prove it.

Manchester Orchestra take the stage in silence. The crowd refuses to return the favor, erupting for the headliner they have been waiting patiently to see. Lead singer, Andy Hull steps to the mic and finger-picks his guitar with the deliberateness of a 15-year old searching through racks of CDs for his favorite one. The rest of the band, the other four members, are impassive, instruments lain down or at sides with a manner that simply says, "not. yet."

Hull begins to reveal himself and his voice, expressive and ranging, pulling notes and emotional turns of phrase out of the corners of his mouth. He turns from the mic as his sings, either afraid to truly unleash himself on us or like many great artists, able to convey deep agony in the pursuit of brilliance. He finishes the first song, solo, and the band readies themselves to step in like good friends during an escalating bar fight.

And then there's fire - Manchester Orchestra rips through the second song and the crowd presses against the front of the stage. Some unfortunate moshing breaks out and when the song is over, Hull mumbles something about "cooling it with the dancing." The moshing stops but the show only sucks more momentum. The crowd shouts lyrics at the band and Hull shouts them back with equal vigor. If you didn't know better, it would seem like a bad argument where everyone ends up repeating the same lines. But it's not an argument at all - only the outlines of a building pathos.

The set moves on and as with his opening song, Hull proves himself unafraid of playing solo material while his band watches in silence. These are some of the night's most chilling and riveting moments. Hull, alone at the front of the stage, steam and smoke willowing around him, sweat dripping out of his beard like the evolution of snow melt.

The night comes to a head in one singular moment. During "Where Have You Been," Hull reaches an unmistakable explosion, screaming "God, where exactly have you been?" The, "exactly" is an ad-lib, not in the original lyrics, but it takes a pointed question and turns into a heart-breaking plea for divinity. And it may not simply be a question of God. Hull may be asking us about our whereabouts. Where have we been? Where have you been?

So we answer. Tonight, we've been right here. Tonight, if there's smoke, there is definitely fire. And tonight, we're going to burn this fucking place to the ground.

[photos by Sean O'Kane]