Reviewed on Monday March 21
“The only thing that would make this moment more perfect is if two of you got in a fist fight,” mutters Isaac Brock, probably not providing the best advertisement for live music in a city that is contending with the perception that its nightlife is some kind of violent underbelly. But Brock isn’t meant to be a poster boy: he’s just enjoying playing the show. “I’m not one for violence myself,” he continues, “but I sure do enjoy watching it.”
Which probably sums up the crowd at tonight’s show. We are, for the most part, mild-mannered folk who would much rather watch the violence – in a musical sense – play out on stage than become a part of it ourselves. As always with Modest Mouse, Brock is the chief protagonist, an eccentric, self-deprecating, slightly deranged sea captain whose ship endlessly threatens to capsize.
The set list naturally leans towards last year’s Strangers To Ourselves. Whether it’s due to the lack of nostalgic value or not, the new material doesn’t quite resonate with the crowd as much as the old favorites – ‘Lampshades On Fire’ being a notable exception. ‘Never Ending Math Equation’ and ‘Out Of Gas’ serve up a healthy dose of softly spoken nostalgia, while the slow build of ‘Bukowski’ is probably the highlight of the night.
Outside of these reflective interludes, Modest Mouse hammer home their credentials as an all-out rock band. There is no doubt that they have a well-oiled engine room, a considerable achievement considering they often have three percussionists and two bassists all playing in tandem. However, many of the subtleties of the interplay between instruments are lost in the bass-heavy mix.
The wait for both encores is drawn out, with the audience eventually being rewarded with a particularly passionate version of ‘The Good Times Are Killing Me’ that almost descends into total chaos before pulling itself back from the brink. Though a feedback spattered ‘Ocean Breathes Salty’ is less impressive, the night is rounded out nicely with an almost tender ‘Strangers To Ourselves’. It’s hard to fault the band’s precision, or indeed Brock’s energetic performance and witty, self-deprecating banter. The only regret for the night is that an imbalanced mix has made what should have been a glorious two hour display feel quite labored at times.
