Live Review: Ra Ra Riot @ Bowery Ballroom [03.07.08]

On Friday night, the miserable cold and rain outside of Bowery Ballroom was made all the more miserable by its contrast with what was happening on the inside. Ra Ra Riot, along with Bear Hands and Sam “Buck” Rosen, filled the space with a kind of unadulterated, giddy happiness that blasted away all thoughts of rain, disappointment, and sadness. And perhaps even thought itself. After all, we — a crowd of separate people, individuals — found ourselves melted down into a single mass of smiles, or rather, one giant smile that stretched across the room and that was so big and so long it made our collective face hurt.

Sam Rosen started the evening with flair and a lot of delay soaked solos with doubled trombone. Then Bear Hands took the stage, and began to blast us with the kind of hybrid rock we expect from good bands in New York. That is, they are an unapologetically aggressive guitar band, but they combined dance-able moments, evocative spaced-out guitar, and sing-along vocals with the old-fashioned riffage. I will resist saying that they are “tribal” merely because they have a stand-alone tom played by the bassist, but they definitely make use of complex and interesting rhythms. I especially enjoyed the sweet-and-sour noisescapes created by guitarist Ted Feldman and—in a nice throw-back twist—the theatrical spitting by bassist Val Loper.

They played a short but searing set. Their new song, which was, in the words of lead singer Dylan Rau, “About FUCKING VIETNAAAAAM” stood out for the dramatic contrast between its piercing guitars, the huge drum n’ bass throb, and the chanting chorus. The audience wanted more: Bear Hands were definitely ear and eye-catching.

But then Ra Ra Riot took the stage and it seemed as though all the other bands disappeared in the audience’s mind—not just the other bands on the bill but all bands everywhere always. They were truly stars of the show. The hall was packed in that intimate way only the Bowery Ballroom can be. Everyone stood shoulder-to-shoulder with stranger and friend and screamed for the six beautiful people on stage.

Ra Ra Riot, feeding off that energy, didn’t disappoint. They began the evening quietly, with just Wesley Miles on the keyboard playing what he called, “Crazy Days, an old John Pike song that we’ve never played this way before.” As he played, the drummer (sadly, not John Pike, as we all know) entered and then came the rest of the band in short order, building up the song. It was a perfect start. The rest of the show seemed to go the same way: every song built upon the last song, until it seemed like it was one single extended peak of sing-along happiness.

The band played and sang with completely unself-conscious abandon. I know that this is what we expect of all bands, especially bands that project Ra Ra Riot’s brand of catchy rockness, but here genuine excitement and genuine gratefulness shined through the players’ faces. They rampaged around the stage, knocking into each, dancing around, hugging, singing. They looked like an amoeba stuck under glass, constantly pushing out and reshaping itself at its periphery but always remaining stuck together. Or a less ridiculous metaphor: it was a living room dance party with really close friends and family. They presented themselves as a model for the kind of life we’d all like to have: togetherness, happiness, and boundless energy.

The best part of the evening came with the conclusion. Asked back for a second encore, the lead singer told us, “We don’t know anymore songs. We played all of them.” So he took a vote (election season everywhere), and the audience wanted to hear “Ghosts Under Rocks.,” instead of a newer song. They roared through it again. Singing the anthemic chorus, Miles was sucked into the crowd, where he surfed on top of loving hands and then found himself deposited on stage for the conclusion of the tune. Live music is so cool.

[Words by John Melillo]
[Photos by Bryan Bruchman]

Live Review: Ra Ra Riot and Jukebox The Ghost @ Union Hall [12.01.07]

Two-sixths of Ra Ra Riot are in what amounts to the front row, watching opener Jukebox The Ghost. A girl whispers to a guy, it doesn't really matter who, the guy laughs at, well, it's hard to tell what, and they are the picture of a young band in love with their lifestyle and quite possibly each other. Jukebox The Ghost has their feet tapping to what might sound like Ben Folds Five circa 1996, fired through the lens of liberal arts education, musical theater and our nation's capital. There is something special happening here and it's not just the music. It's one band, killing itself in front of a crowd who mostly didn't come to see them, and it's parts of another band paying their respects in the front row; basking in the glow of being 22 years-old and a headliner - the only thing keeping more of your people out of this room is the city-imposed fire code. Both are equal parts becoming, just at different places on the trail.

Jukebox The Ghost comports itself well. They seem to wander in places, a little too chatty on stage, but, then again, they're not un-charming and their asides aren't irritating. At one point, someone yells, "Play music" and the band quickly agrees. The nameless heckler is either their good friend or a complete asshole. Jukebox doesn't seem rattled and they preface one of the tracks with an astounding amount of information dealing with God, the destruction of earth, and futuristic space travel. It's a three-part song, they say, and in practice, it's got to be close nine-minutes long. They make sure to close the night with "Good Day," which has an ending rollicking enough to make people remember your band - whether or not you played a three-part opus about space travel in the middle.

Ra Ra Riot takes the stage with the gravitas of people playing to their friends, close acquaintances, and already converted supporters. If there is a single person in the room who hasn't heard their music, it might be shocking. Further, if there is a single person who hasn't heard their music, that person or those people are about to be leveled. Ra Ra Riot is pleasant on recording but they are positively electric in person. Somehow you can't put front man Wes Miles on mp3 and have him stay there until he pops up in your iTunes - he just doesn't fit. And it's not just a singer. This band, their bassist with his loping on-stage maneuvers, their charming string section and a guitarist and drummer who look like they permanently stuck in the best part of the day, and Wes Miles - these six people just won't fit in your stereo. Your iPod is woefully tiny for a band like this. And if you're not going to come see them live, you might not get it.

Union Hall is one of the venues where if you're not in the first three rows, you can't see shit. This means that roughly three-quarters of the 92 people in the room can't tell what's going on. Luckily, Miles, soars above the heads and puts his hand against the ceiling. He communicates in a million not verbal ways and almost all of them are overly dramatic. He mimes crying in some songs and pounds his chest in others. The bassist and guitarist lean against each other like two mutually dependent parts and somehow through all of this the band is moving the whole floor in a place where the back of the room is built to make you feel disenfranchised. There is something pouring from the stage besides sound.

The band closes with the song that contains the phrase that appears first on their website, "the dying is fine." Forget death for a minute, it's a beautiful image to depart with. If the dying is fine, it's only because this show has been so fucking alive. So for a quick encore, they play Kate Bush's "Hounds of Love." It ripples the concrete floor and vibrates the empty PBR cans sitting on the bar at the back of the room. And, like that, it's over. Like the whispered joke with which we began, from girl to guy, lips almost touching ear, we'll end with something shared and smiles from front to back.

[Photo by Andy Cotteril, courtesy of Myspace]

Live Review: Tokyo Police Club, Ra Ra Riot, and Vampire Weekend at Middle East Boston [8.12.07]

(Tokyo Police Club w/ Ra Ra Riot)

This tour and these bands are big news in NYC. They're good everywhere but in this city they sell out months in advance. So like sneaking over the border to Canada to purchase discounted prescription drugs, some friends and I traveled to Boston for some family engagements and to catch Tokyo Police Club, Ra Ra Riot, and Vampire Weekend at what turned out to be a packed, but not entirely sold out show. Sometimes, if it matters enough, you just have to get in the car. Not to say Boston didn't bring the heat. Kids were dancing and nodding and bouncing around and clapping with an un-inhibitedness you just don't see this far down Route 95. Boston might not be half the city that New York is and might not have even 20% of the music scene but they still know how to get up, get down, and leave the bullshit at the door.

The night started with Vampire Weekend and their brand of inoffensive, afro-beat indie rock. This band can write hooks for days but they're still a little one-dimensional in certain respects. Charming on-stage demeanor and a sound that might make you think of Paul Simon playing pop-punk songs circa 1991.

After a quick set change, Ra Ra Riot took The Middle East Downstairs to a separate and entirely winning plane. Injecting some new material and some slower songs, the band's set had wonderful pace and once the sound guy figured out how to handle string players, guitars, bass, keys and vocals (round about the 3rd song), they sounded great. The band got a prolonged ovation from the crowd after dedicating "St. Peter's Day Festival" to their fallen drummer, John Pike. A whole summer of tour dates behind them, they honored their friend in the most appropriate way possible. At some point, maybe even now, the band will get tired of hearing about how they are living in the shadow of loss and, honestly, what a fucking inspiration they are. But for now, let's say this - they brought the noise in Boston and closing with "Dying Is Fine," they had the whole crowd clapping hard enough to hurt hands. People have an emotional connection with this band now and it makes everyone want to elevate one another. And hope is never, ever a bad thing.

Tokyo Police Club brought their traditional frenetic pace down a notch and still managed to get the crowd in the end. Saving the "hits" from their first record until the back end of the set allowed for some new material to sneak in the front. Great energy, good new songs, and with the backing of Saddle Creek - the sky is the limit for the four skinny boys from Canada. The highlight of the night was a closing-cover of The Rentals' "Friends of P" where the boys and girls from Ra Ra took the stage to beat drums, shake tambourines and hug the crap out of everyone.

At the end of an amazing tour, two young bands shared the lights and brought the house down with predictable ease. Now, operator. Get me the fucking President of the World. This is an emergency.

(photos by elliot grossman and his iphone)