Frederick Foxtrott

The National
Phosphorescent
Maps & Atlases
Eisner and Lubin Auditorium NYU
February 28th 2008

Let’s get the negatives out of the way, shall we?

1st- There was no beer. Now this might seem to be a point of rather small stature but given points 2 and 3, the omission of alcohol was severely detrimental to the entire experience.

2nd- Don’t let its name fool you, The Eisner and Lubin Auditorium is pretty much a high school gym. The sound was pretty awful. The show was only $8 so complaints are hard to make, however, them’s the facts folks.

3rd- I was surrounded by NYU students. This isn’t inherently a bad thing, but I felt as if I was attending a hipster-slut convention.

I entered the auditorium as Maps & Atlases began their set. Mustaches make for darling bands, do they not? These guys were very talented on the music making front. Their style is very similar to Unique Chique, utilizing elements of jazz guitar tone fused with progressive rock beats. In fact Maps & Atlases are a pretty standard example of Chicago indie rock. They even use vibraphones. If Tortoise, Sea & Cake, and Unique Chique are your thing I am absolutely positive that you’ll appreciate Maps & Atlases. The vocals of Dave Davison set them apart from other bands in their genre in that they are punchy. The vocals don’t necessarily play second chair to the jazzy, experimental music. The guitars are tapped instead of strummed so that the collective punch of the drums, bass, vibraphones, and vocals combine in a free-flowing percussive orchestration. All the instruments work in syncopation.

The three bands were very different from one another. Phosphorescent has a beautiful and soft quality laden with animistic lyrics and an American Gothic aesthetic. I would not be so familiar as to outline Matthew Houck’s influences except to say they certainly hail from the vicinity of southern folk. As mentioned to me by a friend, the band seemed stuck in a perpetual state of near collapse. Each musician was very concerned with what the other band members were playing. But this looseness did not detract from the performance. Houck’s vocals were a tremendous croon. He did not shy away from experimentation, looping his voice over with octaves of bellows and screams, a sure sign that he writes his music solo. In many ways I’d compare him to O’death minus the psychosis. He seems to be pleading not seething. Fair play Southern troubadour, fair play.

When The National took the stage, it was immediately apparent that this band had their shit together. First off it must be said that even as I compared Bryan Devendorf‘s drumming to Stephen Morris from Joy Division, experiencing the on stage presence of Matt Berninger was amazing. It was as if Ian Curtis never died, grew up, and mellowed out. The resemblance is pretty astounding, if not in looks than in spirit. When he wasn’t spittin’ his poems into the mic, he turned away from the audience and let the music consume him. His stage manner is conterminously intense and timid. Especially memorable was their performance of Mr. November. Watching this guy go ape-shit was a treat. When I watch a gorilla looking metal fuck scream and wince it has no more appeal than a cow fart. When a rail thin, contemplative type, hugs him self so hard that he bellows out his sweet, sweet words, I am simply moved.

These guys definitely knew what they were doing. I got the sense that they have been around for a while. In contrast to Phosphorescent, they commanded their instruments with exactitude. Every note was hit with deliberation. Fake Empire was ridiculous. They made us certain that after our trite experience as 20 somethings, we can definitely look forward to a period of disgruntled 30 somethingness. In short through no fault of their own they made the bourgeois problems of the disaffected youth look pretty pathetic. What does a 21 year old really have to say about life? Sigh…

7/9

http://mapsandatlases.org


http://www.myspace.com/mapsandatlases


http://www.myspace.com/phosphorescent


http://www.americanmary.com


http://www.myspace.com/thenational


Review of The National- Boxer