Drug and drug use have long been synonymous with rock ‘n roll. From the Beatles and all their experimentation with Eastern Philosophy to the Flaming Lips and their uber-eccentric-let’s-walk-on-top-of-our-crowd-with-a-giant-inflatable-ball persona, chemical substances have had as much of an influence on some of our favorite acts’ sounds and styles as the first strike of a guitar chord, or the scratchy sounds of the Rolling Stones resonating from that vinyl picked up at a secondhand music store down the block.

By no means am I advocating drug use, or approving of episodes such as Noel Gallagaher coming on stage so stoned he can barely walk. No, I’m just pointing out an obvious fact. Whether you’re the type who can come up with a compelling argument as to how drugs were the genius behind Hendrix, or a person who still curses the pills that ultimately led to Elliott Smith’s untimely death, I think it’s safe to say that all of us can agree that (il)legal substances have had some impact on our world of music.

So what exactly is the basis for this discussion and how the hell does it at all relate to the concert at New York’s Webster Hall last night? There is none, and it doesn’t really at all, unless you’re like me, and are going to spend the next however many paragraphs trying to compare the performances by Man Man and Titus Andronicus as something of a real life, mind-altering, but drug-free drug trip.

Bear with me while I explain.

As I watched the performances that went down among Webster’s oh-so-unfriendly acoustics and overbearing size, I couldn’t help but imagine myself experiencing some sort of wild drug trip. Between the stage’s spacey backdrop and the seizure-inducing strobe lines, the scene was already especially trippy before either of the two outfits hit the stage. The music that would follow transformed the hippy-approved setting into something of a full-fledged, mind-altering exploration of epic music proportions.

A word of warning however. The fact that 82% of those present at Webster Hall last evening fit the 16-18 year-old-demographic and that my drug “expertise/experience” is minimal at best, the whole “drug trip” analogy that follows has obvious flaws. Still, just for a few moments, suspend your imagination, and let’s play pretend.

Titus Adronicious, that lovely six-piece outfit from Glen Rock, New Jersey who began to make waves after receiving the much coveted Pitchfork seal of approval earlier this summer, kicked into a ferocious thirty- minute set that sparked two reactions. Those unfamiliar with the shoegaze sextet initially appeared dumbstruck, even a bit frightened at the sight unfolding in front of them. The chaotic distortion of guitar rifts and a Replacements-like passion echoed the forceful, yet youthful sounds of the Desaparecidos of years passed - a time in which Conor Oberst embraced his long desire to be a screamo emo frontman amidst a raging crowd soaking up every word and chord like it was sort of limited-time-only, holy scripture. While the fans - and friends - present for Titus lacked this “religulous,” they made up for it in energy, sparking mini circle pits as tunes like “Joset Of Nazareth’s Blues” and the band’s title track flowed throughout the venue.

Like a drug, Titus’ performance kicked in so fast, with such chaos and fury, that the beginners cringed and covered ears, cursing whoever had dragged them to this real world example of hell. But as the sounds set in and took hold, the cringes subsided and the hands went from covering ears to clapping along. Within 10 minutes, there was a sense of comfort, the part of the trip when you realize, “hey, I’m not going to die.” 10 minutes later, Titus Andronicus had earned itself another collection of lifelong fans, still unsure what made the band’s music so appealing, but fully intent on picking up its debut album from the back and running home to tell their fans all about this band with a silly name and equally funky music.

Before I continue, do allow me to take a short break from the trip to offer up these words, just in case the New Jerseyans happen to stumble on this review. We may not be Brooklyn Vegan, but rest assured that in the eyes of Consequence of Sound, you didn’t suck, you stole the show.

Since I already essentially offered my ultimate opinion on Man Man’s show - after all, two bands can’t steal a show - let’s just get right into why the six-piece outfit from Philadelphia left a bit to be desired. First and foremost, I don’t fault Man Man for a performance that seemed to lack the same punch and enthusiasm that was exhibited by the openers. No, it’s just another case of the atrociously unwelcoming Webster Hall in all its mammoth size and shitty sound system glory, which essentially overwhelmed the group’s performance.

You see, while Man Man relies a great deal on the visual component of its shows (see: the band’s planned all-white attire, the Christmas lights strung across the multi-colored drumsets, and the choreographed hand bell playing), this can only take you so far, and when the music is largely engulfed by the venue’s hollow corners, the performance’s lack of “energy” makes it a bit tiring. While folks in front, especially those taking part in the 80 minutes of nonstop moshing will say differently, the further one ventured away from the action, the less captivating the performance became.

Now, of course, this has nothing to do with Man Man’s actual playing, which in itself was as one would expect, certainly one-of-a-kind, the performance as a whole never seemed to actually deliver that knock out punch. Surely it had its moments. “Black Mission Goggles” gives any Gogol Bordello performance a run for its money, and the Waitsian feel of several tracks played from the band’s must recent album, Rabbit Habbits, such as “Big Trouble” and “Hurly/Burly”, are in a class all their own when it comes to musical diversity, but ultimately Man Man’s set never really took hold. The “trip” showed sparks, but never fulfilled its potential, leaving one a bit befuddled, and even disappointed at what had, or had not, just taken place.

But like a trip, a concert ultimately comes down to personal experience, and just as this whole review might be the must absurd thing I’ve ever written, the performances delievered by Titus Andronicus and Man Man at Webster Hall on Friday night are of the type that words can’t really justify. The experience was unique to the individual. Well, that is aside from the collective headache felt by all thanks to a bit too many strobe lights.

For myself however, I want to go punch that promoter dealer who thought it was a good idea to combine Man Man with Webster Hall.

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Categories: Concert Reviews, Features, News
Tags: Man Man, Titus Andronicus