Modest Mouse + Love as Laughter + Mimicking Birds et al - Crystal Ballroom (MFNW 2009; Sept. 20)

I didn’t want to go to this show. I just didn’t. I have always cast a doubtful eye on the Modest Mouse machine, and while I’ve heard songs I’ve liked, I’ve never felt particularly compelled to delve into their back catalog and forge an informed opinion. But I decided to take solace in the fact that there must be a reason so many people adore this group. There must be something made of magic that kept drawing people into the fold. So I went, and I took a chance, jumping into the deep end of the pool. And all it took was 30 seconds for them to have me hook, line, and sinker.

When I got to the Crystal Ballroom, I spied—with my little eyes—a crowd, L-shaped around the block. I tried my night-two tactic of flashing the photo pass to skip the line and was again denied, banished to the back. Standing there with the fans, I asked everyone if they had seen the band, hoping to get some get excited stories, but turned out they were first timers, too. Once the line started going and Crystal Ballroom staff asked an extremely drunk, possibly psychotic, probably homeless man who was trying to touch the heavens with his rendition of The Doors’ “Roadhouse Blues” to leave, we wandered up the stairs, and I positioned myself near the front of the stage.

The first band, Morning Teleportation, a Portland-based signee of Isaac Brock’s label, Glacial Pace (the night was a GP showcase), bounded out looking like a band who worked for a cruise liner. The lead singer, Tiger, had on a white shirt adorned with palm trees/tropical leaves, the keyboardist had on a lounge lizard sequin jacket, and the final three members wore black and white Hanna Anderson sailor stripes. What would they sound like? A little bit of everything.

Their music was irresponsibly funky and lit a fire under the feet of kids near the front. A full-on dance party wasn’t far behind as they added in their electro riffs and trumpet solos atop of what was already a high-energy engagement. Their raucous performance and undeniable fun-time spirit brought smiles to the faces of the crowd and made it abundantly clear why Isaac Brock signed them. They even had a bit of the modern day Modest Mouse sound in them, though I’m not sure I could articulate exactly what form it took. Overall, the band had a blast and the crowd did too, creating enough noise to make any opener feel right at home. And by the look on the bassist’s face, you can tell that it wasn’t expected, but was welcome nonetheless. I’m saying it right now: band to watch.

The next group was another Portland-based Glacial Pacer by the name of Mimicking Birds and there couldn’t have been a bigger shift in the room temperature than when they came on. What was once boiling over had now cooled to a slow ripple, as the band turned the volume down and gave us a man singing his soft songs into the microphone before him. A ball cap covered his face and because he was obscured, it gave the songs a sense of intimacy and carried with it a certain duality in which he appeared to be stepping away from his emotions at the very same time as he was putting them on display.

The music had a folky tint to it, and remained reserved throughout the performance, never reaching into the drawer of loud expression. Its power had to come from the nuances and the rest of the band (guitarist and drummer) filled them in, though only the drummer looked lively while he was doing it. Which was funny, since he wasn’t playing extremely complicated fills/rhythms, but his face told a story of complexity every time it scrunched up. He was the only one that was interesting to watch; the songs felt better with eyes closed, thinking about what they would be like in the late-night hours. Overall, it was enjoyable, but I don’t think I’d buy a cd.

Love as Laughter came next, seven members deep (three girls harmonized and came out sporadically during the set). The singer looked like he used to frequent punk bands and had a passion for taking his voice into a yell during the set, though not in a way that would tie itself into a punk-like classification. They sang a bluesy number about the salad days and I walked away thinking they were just ok/deeply surprised that Morning Teleportation hadn’t been chosen as the lead-in to Modest Mouse over this band. I’d probably check them out again, though.

Lights out. I was to see the great Modest Mouse, and felt a bit intimidated knowing I had to cover an indie grail band, whom I was woefully ignorant of. Taking my place up front near the PA, I knew I had three songs (photographer limit for MFNW) to get the breathtaking shot I wanted and concerned myself with positioning. Into the darkness, the black, oval shaped lights shot out a blinding white beam, illuminating a once-dark room and signaling to the fans that it was time to share the love. They exceeded expectations and Isaac Brock and the rest of the Mouse took up their spots on stage.

The lights went deep blue and Brock started in on what would become a 10 min+ version of “Dramamine” (the first song off their first album), a fitting first introduction for a first timer. The notes wobbled like a drunk man’s stagger, bouncing off the walls and fluttering in and out your ears, and as the band locked in, it became easy to see what years of playing together yields. Brock stood defiantly at his microphone, eyes ablaze, looking like a man unchained and ready for war. His maniacal stare was a photographer’s dream, and a front row kid’s B-12 shot. His gruff vocalizations made the notes appear to explode, and you could feel the room filling to the brim with the tension he was building. And the mood kept bobbing along like this as if we were all in the same boat, lost at sea, in waters with a light chop. As it ended, I knew I had become a fan.

They went right into my favorite Modest Mouse song (I have heard a few), “Gravity Rides Everything,” and I remember looking over at the photographer next to me and saying, “This is so good.” I was greeted with a grin from ear to ear. We all knew we were seeing something that seemed special. And it was, as the band played another long version of this song, highlighted by Isaac pointing his acoustic guitar at the audience like it was his firearm. And in a way, it was. As hard as he beat up his microphone, his guitar got it worse, as he wrenched the notes he wanted from it, beckoning the noise out into atmosphere. The band, Eric Judy (bass), Tom Peloso (multi-instrumentalist), Jeremiah Green (drums), and Jim Fairchild (guitar), were the glue that held it all together, adding all the subtleness that makes Brock’s aggressive outpouring somehow take on a weird kind of balance. They were phenomenal as well, and as they stood up there, all lined up, you felt like you were looking at a band of brothers rather than just a collection of people.

It really was something to behold and their fans were fantastic. This was not a crowd that was here to see “Float On,” which was played and got some appreciation but not the explosion you see from a teeny bopper hit crowd. And perhaps that is a testament to Modest Mouse. If you ask a lot from your fans: if you ask them to follow you down the trails that have the brambles, that might seem off the beaten path or even quirky, you will get a different type of fan. A true fan, a loyal fan. These fans were definitely loyal and full of energy as well, throwing back whatever Brock gave at them (and he gave A LOT) in spades.

They responded to his muscular vocals and blistering screams, but even they had to stand in awe when after a long pause, he belted out “What do you have to say for yourself!” during “King Rat.” Such power, in the right presentation, is captivating, and Isaac Brock was the sun.

But he’s not all doom and gloom; he was also hilarious when he was joking about how he signed the bands featured in his label’s showcase tonight so that he could make money off them and buy jetskis. “As you look at me now,” he said, “I have zero jetskis.” He then gave us the secret formula, “Bands=Money=Jetskis.” It was a nice moment of release and lightheartedness in a show that was built on aggression and tension.

And as funny as that was, sometimes, there is a moment that is just too good to be true and you can’t believe you are seeing it. This moment happened in the encore (which we had to wait an eon for) during a song called “Spitting Venom.” Isaac Brock asked the crowd if anyone knew how to play guitar out there. A hand shot up and suddenly a long haired kid was up on stage. He was given a guitar, a quick chord lesson by Brock, and suddenly he became a de facto member of Modest Mouse, playing for a thunderous crowd during a hometown show. His smile spoke volumes: life is but a dream. When he left the stage (he was good, by the way), the room sounded like a sonic boom and every high school kid knew which band name was getting scribbled down on their notebooks when they got home that night.

In the day after the concert, I spent time reading people’s reactions online and found out that I had attended a stellar example of a Modest Mouse show, one that had people fired up. And out of nowhere, in less than 24 hours, I had gone from someone who couldn’t have cared less about going to a Modest Mouse show, to a little depressed that I couldn’t afford the next three nights at the Crystal. This is how you end a music festival: with a bang, not a whimper, and judging by the way he sings, I bet you Isaac Brock would back me up on that.

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