Live Review: Shout Out Louds @ The Music Hall of Williamsburg 10.26.07

There is an undeniable level of immediacy associated with The Shout Out Louds - an emotional catharsis built on explosive evocation. Even their very name communicates a desire to express things quickly, vehemently, and exorbitantly. And if the method is to shout. out. loud: what then is the message? The Music Hall of Williamsburg, at about 90% capacity on a rainy Friday night was supposed to find out. Tell us what you want us to say, and we will say it. Tell us what to shout and we will shout it.

On their most recent record, Our Ill Wills (Merge), the band makes a plea for escape velocity. It is no coincidence that the first single featured a title that said "Tonight, I Have To Leave It." Even the infectious "Impossible" seems to express an inability to remember the familiar and a need to avoid the crippling stasis of a failed relationship. Perhaps the most sentimental is "Normandie" which urges us to "say goodbye to the people we don't know." Get up, get out.


But this presents some problems in the live environment. This is your concert and if you're so busy telling us to leave, what is our impetus to stay? Adam Olenius and his band have to tip-toe the lines between impermanence and togetherness. They want us here but, at some point, everybody will have to get on their way. Sound like a band who's been on tour for almost four years straight? Maybe a little.

Tonight they are tight and sharp and absolutely not messing around. They play "The Comeback" early and run through other favorites from their albums. Bringing out a female guest-vocalist for "Impossible" earns the silent disapproval of a few other females in the crowd. She has a silky-sweet voice and pants that go up to her breasts. She owns the hook on "Impossible" with the same quiet elegance it contains on the record. As the song tumbles into it's second movement, the whole crowd is mouthing or singing, "Impossible, impossible."


Olenius looks less like Jason Schwartzman than I remember and is commanding the room in an un-commanding way. When he sings lyrics with numbers in them ("and the last two weeks/were the saddest weeks") he holds up the same number on his hands. In other circumstances it would seem like cheap musical theater shill but, here, now, it feels communicative and good. As if the hand-gesture alone is adding a level of legitimacy to what is coming from his mouth.

It seems obvious they will close with "Tonight, I Have To Leave It." They don't but it arrives near enough to the end of their set to issue a "this has been fun but, like we told you, shit doesn't last forever." The Shout Out Louds head backstage and the crowd actually works for the encore. After all, the only way to fight departure is with anger or affection. We choose the later and soon enough the band is back. The play a quick-three song set and then are gone for good.

This is the second time I've come to see this band wanting to know what their message was - and it's second time I've left without quite knowing what or how they want me to feel. They are young and they are good. And, perhaps, so are we. Despite our need to keep moving and the desire to leave things behind, we can still share that in its totality. So, we say it - we shout it: We are young and we are good. But to share that for more than a night might be impossible. Impossible.

[Photos by Diana Wong]