Spoon, Interpol went from brilliant to lagging
On paper, the duo billing of Interpol and Spoon would not seem a match made in rock rock ‘n’ roll heaven. Combining the dark and sullen post-punk of Interpol and the energetic, sometimes cynical classic pop of Spoon might seem like mixing oil and water.
In practice, the theory seemed to have been borne out Tuesday night, as the two shared the headline at Kemba Live. It’s likely no accident that the tour — which goes on for nearly two dozen dates — is titled “Lights, Camera, Factions.”
Let’s start simply with the stage and lighting. Spoon, which came on after the opening act dressed in various colored clothes, was mostly lit from the front on a simple stage with nothing more than a large, white diagonal stripe on the black back curtain to suggest it was tailored to the band. (It was a subtle echo of the diagonally cut image on the group’s new “Lucifer On The Sofa” album.)
Interpol’s front line, on the other hand, was dressed in black and lit with elaborate designs of spotlights and strobes entirely from the back of the stage. Not once did the audience catch a glimpse of the band’s faces.
Details, yes, but meaningful ones that reflected the nearly contradictory tone of the performances, the character in the songwriting, and the audience reaction. Though a more moody response would be expected for Interpol than the fevered dancing that greeted Spoon, the difference was marked, as was the appearance that the already-not-filled-kemba shrunk to about 2/3 capacity by the end of the night.
Perhaps the order should have been reversed.
Spoon opened with 1995’s, “The Beast And Dragon, Adored”, singer Britt Daniel, straining at the bit with Lennon-esque vocals. Soon, the smart, multi-faceted lyrics of Daniel’s songs started to take on their cynicism as well as their essential connection to humanity. By the time the group performed “The Way We Get By,” human imperfection was laid bare … but so was the song’s protagonist’s essential membership in that club, the result of the songwriter’s charity.
Plus, by that time the quintet whipped the crowd, especially in the pit in front, into a sweat. After nearly 30 years, Spoon has become a tight, intuitive set of musicians, with a killer rhythm section (drummer Jim Eno, bassist Ben Trokan), an invaluable utility man in keyboardist and guitarist Alex Fischel, and Daniel himself, who contributed several beautifully noisy guitar solos.
The group ranged from fun, essential rock ‘n’ roll to a set of funky jams that capped their set. The arrangements added another dimension to their multifaceted lyrics and melodies.
But the accent was clearly on the brilliant songs, loaded with classic pop hooks, an apparent love of the Beatles, and complex but emotionally-direct lyrics that are a marvel of contemporary songwriting. The resemblance of Daniel’s singing to John Lennon’s was driven home by his stark reading of the acerbic and humanitarian Beatle’s “Isolation,” a sort of mid-set spiritual cleansing.
The emotions and perspectives of Interpol lead singer and lyricist Paul Banks’s words were far more obscure. Compared to Daniel’s, which cleverly shrouded his essential down-to-earth human connection, Banks’s were opaque and veiled in mystery, obviously by design. Everything about the band’s presentation represented that obfuscation. That has always been both its strength and weakness. At first the drama and shadows were hugely appealing but over time, the romance wore thin. So did the limitations of Interpol’s musical approach.
The group opened its headline slot with two songs from its new “The Other Side Of Make-believe” (“Toni” and “Fables”) with 2004’s “Evil” sandwiched between. The expert rhythm section of founding drummer Sam Fogarino and bassist Brad Truax created a thunderous echo tunnel that threatened to suck the audience in. Banks hammered fundamental guitar parts, while lead guitarist Daniel Kessler added scintillating guitar that recalled the best of the post-punk late-1980s, while he danced like a stylish, rehearsed rock star.
The similarity of the songs mattered not at first, as the dark drama built. Nor did the incessant backlighting and dizzying strobes that dulled the senses over time.
The hypnotic syncopation of “Obstacle 1” and Banks’s dramatic reading of its lyrics were an indication of the songbook’s potential, which benefited from the subtle but significant variation in arrangement.
Unfortunately, the set sagged dramatically in the middle even if it recovered toward the end, as the tunes became even more dramatic and the presentation more over-the-top. The band finished with the speedy “Slow Hands” and all was redeemed. Still, the feeling remained that the wrong band was left to finish the evening.