Death Cab for Cutie and Postal Service serve nostalgia
“So, this is the new year,” Ben Gibbard sang at the very start of Death Cab for Cutie’s Milwaukee set Monday. The new year? Not quite.
But the fans who filled the sold-out, 4,086-seat Miller High Life Theatre Monday wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.
Frequent visitors to Milwaukee over the years, Death Cab offered something different Monday — a front-toback performance of the band’s gamechanging 2003 album “Transatlanticism.”
But perhaps the stronger selling point was that Gibbard was doing double duty Monday with a rare performance from the Postal Service. Alongside that side project’s Jimmy Tamborello and Jenny Lewis (plus Death Cab’s Dave Depper on keys and occasional drums by Death Cab’s Jason McGerr), the indie electronic-pop rockers played only their second Milwaukee show ever Monday, and their first in town in 21 years — also a frontto-back album presentation, of the group’s lone album, also from 2003, “Give Up.”
And that was it for the main sets. No recent Death Cab material, no “I Will Follow You Into the Dark,” no Jenny Lewis songs. By restricting the sets to those signature albums, Gibbard made sure nothing detracted from the night’s early-aughts nostalgia, when those bands helped to instigate indie rock’s mainstream rule.
But one set still managed to offer a little more beyond a blast from the past — and, surprise, it wasn’t the band that’s regularly touring and putting out albums.
Not that Death Cab for Cutie was phoning it in. That first line from album and set opener “The New Year” continues with Gibbard proclaiming, “And I don’t feel any different” — and it showed in Milwaukee Monday night, with the 47-year-old Gibbard acting at least 20 years younger, bouncing around the stage, guitar in hand, rushing over to jam with both Depper on guitar on one side and bassist Nick Hermer (the lone remaining original member, aside from Gibbard) on the other.
Gibbard was even extra for an extra-slow and sweet song like “Passenger Seat,” putting his guitar aside as he acted out the lyrics, “Then looking upwards I strain my eyes and try/To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites.” His emo-oriented energy inspired a smitten, soft crowd singalong for the outro: “When you need directions, then I’ll be the guide, for all time, for all time.”
Gentle lyrics and vocals like those were a chief reason “Transatlanticism” was so transcendent, and they remained the focal point of the 11-song, 47-minute Death Cab set. Even when Gibbard was genuflecting passionately and swaying his body wildly at the mic stand, his vocal delivery remained calm and tender, selling lovestruck lines but also heightening his devastation, like in the parting words to “Tiny Vessels”: “You are beautiful, but you don’t mean a thing to me.”
When it comes to the title track, however, only one of those sentiments applies. Gibbard regularly dipped to his knees and gestured to fans across the seven-minute opus, the climactic instrumental bridge building to a boil ever so slowly. Gibbard heightened the tension by teasing a vocal release with a step to the mic before stepping aside with words unspoken. Finally, after what felt like forever, he gave in with a cathartic epiphany, calling out, “I need you so much closer” as the music began to break like waves crashing against a rocky shore.
It was the most dramatic song of the night. And yet, unlike Gibbard, this primarily middle-aged crowd was still pretty subdued for Death Cab. Perhaps this being a Monday was to blame, or perhaps fans were in their feels.
But when the Postal Service appeared for their primary 10-song, 50minute set, all dressed in white, the crowd definitely got wilder.
It helped that Gibbard’s undeterred stage charisma carried over, and also expanded, like when he got behind the drum kit for sixth song “Clark Gable” (the first Postal Service song Monday with live drums) — then did it again for subsequent tune “We Will Become Silhouettes,” with Gibbard offering a funky drum break reminiscent of the late, infinitely sampled Clyde Stubblefield, a longtime Madison resident.
It also helped that Gibbard was joined by another skilled stage veteran in Lewis. Alas, she remained underutilized in the mix live, but found some ways to rise above the fray Monday, like a more pronounced snarling guitar part for “This Place Is a Prison.” (She was employed more in the live show than on the group’s album, where she was essentially just a backing vocalist on six songs).
But Lewis owned her dominating vocal showcase Monday for “Nothing Better,” in lieu of the album’s Jen Wood, countering Gibbard’s pining with poised swagger and low-key sass as she coolly put him in his place, singing, “You’re getting carried away feeling sorry for yourself with these revisions and gaps in history.”
But probably the primary reason the capacity crowd was more animated for the Postal Service set Monday was Tamborello’s electronic production, the way it created grandeur from fragile intimacy. (It’s clearly had a major influence over the decades, especially on Milwaukee music scene veteran Nick Sanborn and his production work with synthpop duo Sylvan Esso.)
Tamborello honored the assignment Monday and offered one nostalgic rush after the other. There were the mood-setting, deep-synth swells and fluttering digital strings on “The District Sleeps Alone Tonight,” the Super Mario-run-amok chiptune delights of “Brand New Colony.”
But here and there, he also offered something different, and wonderful. The dreamy outro for “Such Great Heights” was dragged out and embellished Monday, prompting a prolonged, spaced-out clap along from the crowd.
Inspired moments like these weren’t just about celebrating the past. They were celebrating the now.
Now, should fans start to get their hopes up again, in light of these creative tweaks, that the Postal Service will finally make another album — hopefully, with more creative input from Lewis this time?
Probably not. But I’m not ready to give up hope.
Dear Carolyn: My mom passed away unexpectedly in October. One of my siblings (we are all adults with children) caused a lot of drama in the aftermath, during the funeral, and said hurtful things to me and the other sibling. We are both taking a long-overdue break from our toxic sibling while we are deeply grieving our mother. Family members and several of our sibling’s friends keep reaching out to ask us to “make amends.” I don’t share the details because I’m good with my decision to step away, but I don’t know what to say to people without sounding defensive. It’s such a painful time, and I’m frankly annoyed that it keeps coming up. –
Aggrieved While Grieving: Understandably so. I am sorry for your loss.
For overstepping friends and relatives, the best, simplest response is some version of, “I won’t discuss this with you.” It comes in many shades of courtesy: “Thank you for your thoughts”; “Noted”; “We’re all doing our best”; “This is between us”; “I’m sure you mean well” (this New Englander’s “Bless your heart”). Then say nothing further on the subject. You can’t sound defensive if you decline every one of these invitations to explain yourself.
About your sibling issue, I have unsolicited advice: Your sibling is grieving, too. Given how disorienting death can be for survivors, your sib’s deplorable behavior could have been a twisted byproduct of grief. Now, maybe this was the last straw and your sibling’s toxicity is of long standing. If so, then I do sympathize. But because all three siblings were (are) under the influence of a death – effectively, a judgment-impairing substance – I urge you to make any straw but this one your last. It doesn’t require forgiveness you don’t want to grant, nor must you commit to making amends. These would be out of bounds for me to advise anyway. The only decisive action you need is to commit to not deciding anything. Give yourself time, heal, remember. Bigger questions will wait till the heaviness begins to lift.
Dear Carolyn: I am interested in your opinion on the new fad of “private” weddings – meaning members of the wedding party (and their plus-ones), immediate siblings, parents, and, of course, bride and groom. No extended family or other friends. Where we live, this has become quite popular. While I am slightly offended at not being invited, I understand people can and will make their own choices regarding such a big moment in their lives.
What I do have a problem with, however, is their wanting it all. Meaning the showers and registering for gifts. Should I be expected to attend a party and give a gift to a couple who don’t want me (and many others) at their special event? I think this is a little much. –
Not Invited, But We Want Your Gift!: My opinion is that I don’t have to have an opinion on this. Another opinion: Whenever that’s an option, it’s good for me to take it. You don’t need an opinion, either, of the couple or their choices. You just have to make the decisions you’re offered: If you want to go to the shower, then go. If you don’t, for whatever reason, then RSVP with your regrets. If you want to, then buy a gift. If you don’t want to, then don’t buy a gift. Responses are required, gifts are not, and congratulatory notes are thoughtful regardless, to wish couples well on your terms.