Ranting to /dev/null

The Polyphonic Spree with Mike Doughty at Irving Plaza, 2/16/04

A weird mood for a surreal show. The Polyphonic Spree are... nuts. I don't know quite what to make of it.

First off, Mike Doughty opened up for the Spree. I really enjoyed his set, though apparently he thinks his set was a little rough (cool pictures with the link). I didn't think so. I just found out that he's playing a benefit concert at Housing Works Used Books Cafe tomorrow, and I'm thinking of going. The guy is good.

So, the Spree. Huh. There was this giant banner that said "HOPE" behind the stage. Their set opened with a bunch of people up on the balcony doing some kind of interpretive movement to a loop of music that had so much bass that either the speakers were fuzzing worse than a two-week shadow or the unidentified object on stage with the same resonent frequency was vibrated within an inch of its existence. I didn't enjoy this very much.

But after about ten minutes, they got on stage, and things got started for real. It's your basic... well... okay, it's not your basic anything. No one is doing what they're doing. There were twenty-one people on stage (I think; they kept moving around, so it was hard to get a good count). We had a guitar or two, a French horn, a trombone, a flute, timpani, a drum set, a harp, a violin, an electric bass, two keyboards, and an eight member choir. In typical Spree fashion, everyone was wearing brightly-colored choir robes. The ladies' were tapered fairly nicely, but the guys kind of looked like they were wearing day-glo sacks. And everyone was moving.

The lead singer and responsible party for the Spree, Tim DeLaughter, was all about getting the crowd to sing. It took a little encouraging, but a lot of people participated. He'd actually tip the microphone out over the crowd and let the people in the front hold it over their heads. I would have sung a bit more if I'd known the music better.

Here's the thing: for some reason I found the whole experience a little unsettleing. Let me start by saying that while I enjoy Together We're Heavy, I find that the album kind of runs together, and if I'm not looking at the media player, I can't tell when one song stops and the next starts. This means that I have a bit of a hard time really getting into the music, as it kind of fades together into a really pleasant stream of background noise. So right away, I knew I wasn't going to be able to really get into this show the way I have with other shows. I expected this, and had decided to not let it bother me. It didn't. As a matter of fact, I felt like I wasn't the only one in this situation, because there were a lot of people who looked like they were having a good time that also looked like they weren't quite sure what was going on.

But things started getting a little weird when I saw the "HOPE" banner behind them. I didn't know exactly why at first, but something about it bothered me. As the show progressed, I grew increasingly restive, and I think I've figured out why. Most of the music I listen to doesn't deal with the things of the faith, and I'm perfectly okay with that. It's not a requirement. Take Wilco for an example. Really great stuff. Not religious in the slightest, and only vaguely spiritual in rare occasions. But the music is mostly about the joys and pains of life and relationships, and those are the kind of things that everyone experiences. But when artists want to start talking about things like hope and joy as such, like DeLaughter wants to, I get a bit antsy. In the midst of all the exuberance, something felt empty, and this was exacerbated by the fact that had the content been different, the format could have easily placed us in a revival meeting or Pentecostal worship service. I really felt like they were trying to take all the things they like about religion in general and Christianity in particular and showcase them while leaving Christ out of it.

It's weird. When Christ is in view, the smallest things can give me great joy, but without him, it doesn't matter how energetic or exuberent the proceedings, it just leaves me hollow. I tried to tell myself to just enjoy the music for what it is, but I found myself thinking that it's just undirected enthusiasm and groundless optimism. Call me a cynical pessimist if you want, I'll answer to that, but for me, the absence of true Hope was palpable.

I wound up having to leave before the show actually ended, as I had to take a chemistry exam this morning, and the Spree didn't take the stage until a bit after 10:30PM. But by the time I had left, I kind of felt like I'd seen what I came to see.

Oh, and if you ever go to a show at Irving Plaza and can't get right up next to the stage, the view from the balcony is really good.

Posted by ryan at February 17, 2005 11:07 AM | TrackBack