Ghostland Observatory - Showbox at the Market (Seattle, WA; Apr. 5, 2008)

Unlike my concert sidekick Nicole, I knew of Ghostland Observatory only by the music on their latest album, Robotique Majestique, a quirky electro-rock compilation; I had no idea what the guys in the band looked like or how they put on a show. So on Saturday night, when I secured my place in the front row of the Showbox’s main floor, I started to wonder what I might be in for. Seeing rows of spotlights on the stage, laser machines, and knowing Nicole had worn her “dancing pants,” one thing was certain: it was going to be quite the party!

Instead of a traditional opening band, a D.J. set up shop to one side of the stage as the crowd filled up the floor. He mixed a two=hour set of electro, throwing in a little Fischerspooner, hip hop, and some progressive house. The crowd seemed to like it, talking excitedly, and bobbing their heads while enjoying a round of drinks before the real show started. It was a relief not to have to listen to an opening band that only makes you wish the headliner would start already.

At approximately 10:15, after waiting on the front lines for over an hour, a puff of smoke leaked from the smoke machine and sent the audience into a bit of a frenzy.  Moments later the crowd cheered again as several fellows made their way on stage but, that was just another tease, as apparently they still needed to change their clothes. The front row grew more crowded and a few elbows were thrown; I stood my ground, waiting in anticipation. It wasn’t until 10:30 that Ghostland Observatory made their appearance on stage. Keyboard player Thomas Turner was first, wearing a shiny silver vampire cape and sporting a wispy coif. Acknowledging the audience slightly, he trudged over to his synthesizer and took position, hovering over the keys. From the moment lead singer and guitarist Aaron Behrens walked on stage, sporting braids, a nicely fitted white leisure suit and aviator glasses, an electric charge surged through the venue: he looked darn sexy.

After Behrens did a few stretches, the band started into their set. The first half of the set was comprised mostly of selections from their first album Paparazzi Lightning, and I felt a little left out as the crowd yelled out the lyrics to “Sad Sad City” with an inspiring amount of conviction. Lasers of green, blue, purple and red shot out from every corner of the stage, and Behrens lithely danced through them as if the rays were dangerous. His odd sex appeal was reminiscent of David Bowie, making one stop and wonder, “Why do I find that braided man in the white leisure suit so desirable?” I definitely wasn’t alone in my attraction: it was obvious Behrens knew the effect he had on the audience. Leaning in, he allowed them to grab at him, stroke his leg, even smack him in the ass. A reviewer for the Dallas Voice previously described Behrens as having “the braids of Pocahontas and the moves of a pole dancer.” Truer words have ne’er been written.

Thomas Turner, quite the opposite of his vivacious band-mate, led the two through a fluid set of music, heavy beats emanating from the dark side of the stage. While Behrens got to assume his power guitar stance and step around the stage, Mr. Turner was busy playing the drums, keyboards and mixing the overwhelming amount of sounds that left me partially deaf for two days. He even contributed his altered robotic vocals for “Stranger Lover.” Their performance was so overpowering and the music so consuming, that I didn’t even realize that the band hadn’t addressed the crowd until Behrens muttered one question halfway their set: “Shall we continue on this strange journey?” Of course, the crowd answered with a huge roar. To the satisfaction of all, the band played three encores, with Behrens encouraging the audience to “Rock ‘n Roll!” Their performances of “Rich Man” and “Silver City” from Delete. Delete. I. Eat. Meat. had the audience going crazy, dancing and mashing up against one another. At the end of a two hour set, both guys came to the front of the stage in a rare effort to touch fans’ hands, a gesture of gratitude not usually made by other bands who are generally running off stage as if their tour bus was taking off in ten minutes.

Recently, the guys of Ghostland Observatory have received some—dare I say undeserved—criticism for their latest album. Perhaps because their sound is compared to such legends as Freddie Mercury and Daft Punk, the bar is set higher. Judging from their Showbox performance this past weekend, however, one can’t help but be impressed by these two guys from Texas.

So what did Ghostland Observatory leave us with on Saturday? Motivation. To fight like never before to be in the front row. To be determined to hold out against the latecomers that try to push their way closer. To rock ‘n roll our little hearts out. To dare to dream that next time it might just be YOU who gets to smack the ass of an amazing performer. 

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