Spellbinding gig from magical duo
Twenty One Pilots, TSB Bank Arena, March 24
In the 2006 movie The Prestige ,a magician creates the most perfect magic trick ever seen – he literally kills himself on stage, only to pop up seconds later, unharmed, on the far side of the theatre.
This amazing feat of preposterous prestidigitation is called ‘‘the transported man’’ and is impossible, of course, without the magic of the movies. That is unless you’re Twenty One Pilots’ Tyler Joseph, who just pulled it off live, in the middle of TSB Arena in front of 3000 frothing fans.
It’s just one of many tricks the fireball frontman and his lovely assistant Josh Dun pull out of their hats on Friday night, as they throw themselves about the stage, killing themselves (this time metaphorically) for our entertainment.
Visuals, theatrics, acrobatics, set and costume changes – It’s practically a vaudeville act, if vaudeville came with milliondollar budgets, $200 ticket stubs and raucous tunes. But there’s so much misdirection, so much sleight of hand, you can’t help wondering what they do want us to notice.
If the band was any less competent, it’d be the music. But Joseph jumps seamlessly between piano, bass, ukulele and a variety of arcane electronica throughout the night. And as for Dun, well. His skills are verging on the arcane. What is there to say about a guy that wins a drum battle with himself by making his own head explode? That kid’s got mad beats.
And the songs, always complex and engaging, gain a gritty freshness live, that their digitallysmooth, Spotify-friendly counterparts seldom have.
Opener Heavy Dirty Soul, with its frantic rap verses, gospelinfused chorus and anthemic bridge, is a glorious street parade of cascading noise. A hell of a feat for two guys and a drum kit to pull off – even if they are wearing balaclavas.
Migraine, which follows, is the unholy love child of Electric Light Orchestra and Eminem, proving Twenty One Pilots’ ultimate illusion is in making that bizarre mash-up of influences look easy.
They even pull a little on AltFolk out of the hat: House of Gold/ We Don’t Believe What’s On TV brings more barn stomp than even The Decemberists would know what to do with.
It’s not the lyrics they’re hiding up their sleeves either. Heavy Dirty Soul includes the viscerally poetic metaphor: ‘‘Death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit’’, and that’s the kind of wordsmithery that buys a lot of good will.
Nor is it that band’s musical influences, though they do wear them like a well cut tux and top hat – out there for all to see. A little Elvis, a little Kanye, My Chemical Romance (whose gaudy theatrical mantle they have claimed as their own), more than a little Eminem, The White Stripes, a flash of 80s ska and dancehall – they’re all here.
Elvis’ Can’t Help Falling In Love With You is charmingly infused with a healthy dose of Millennial cynicism; covers of House of Pain’s Jump Around and MCR’s Cancer are absolute triumphs.
So, maybe the crowd surfing drum kits, magic tricks and crowdtop Zorbing act (no, I’m not kidding) aren’t hiding anything. Maybe, like the ‘‘transformed man’’ in the movie, the secret is hiding in plain sight?
Maybe Twenty One Pilots’ greatest trick is simply being thoroughly, unabashedly and thrillingly entertaining? Abracadabra to that. – Kylie KleinNixon