Ratatat + E*Rock + Panther - Showbox Market (Seattle, WA; Sept. 5, 2008)

“There are freakin’ skinny pants EVERYWHERE!” was my first reaction walking into the Showbox last Friday night. For this sold-out, all-ages show brought out Seattle’s finest hipsters for the electronic/indie rock group Ratatat, a band I have been eager to see. This is a band with an extreme reputation; you either hate them or love them.

Opening for Ratatat was E*Rock (brother of Ratatat’s Evan Mast), a performance artist of sorts that came ready with his mixers, laptop, and other effects accessories. His hard-hitting electronic beats were enjoyable and his crazy movements were spastic enough to keep my attention and provoke some major head-bobbing. The crowd seemed to be watching also, but not exactly moving . . . just sort of standing and tiredly staring at the vibrant images on the screen behind E*Rock. Wearing a black headdress, E*Rock danced with his Wii controller-looking thing (I couldn’t be less of a techie/gamer) that he used to direct the sound effects as well as the visual images that he danced in front of. All in all, his set came out looking like an extended iPod commercial. And seeing how I love iPod commercials, I would definitely be interested in seeing E*Rock perform again.

When the odd duo that makes up Panther started their set, the crowd showed a little more life by pumping their fists to the first song. The lead singer of Panther seemed to have a fairly good voice the one or two times he actually sang instead of yelling into the mic. With the help of an effects pedal, and to the displeasure of many, he would loop his primal screams over and over again. During a couple songs, the disheveled drummer decided to wander around the stage, doing nothing in particular and sometimes waving at girls exiting the restroom. Eventually, the fist pumping started to die down and people soon became more interested in their cell phones than watching. Panther has the essentials for a good band and definitely the energy, I just don’t think they know what they are doing with it yet. Fortunately, they kept their set short, ending a little before 10:30.

This early end time posed a slight problem for the audience, who apparently had not been impressed by the first two bands and started chanting for Ratatat at about 10:50. I have never seen Ratatat before and knew little about them except that there are two members and they have some catchy electronic songs. But these boys got a rock-star welcome when they leapt onto the stage. Looking strikingly similar to the Geico cavemen, the two main members Evan Mast and Mike Stroud were joined by an even hairier guy, a mysterious third member who played keys while sporting a gigantic ‘fro.

They immediately got into their first number, “Brulee,” a song that isn’t as danceable as some of their other tunes, but playful enough to get people moving. By that time, everyone was so eager to mash it up that they went berserk. Ratatat effortlessly went into “Mi Viejo,” a song with some Spanish touches and awesome drum solos. This smooth transitioning between songs continued all night and the enthusiasm for these tour-weary band members never let up.

Before moving to the bar area to be among people my own age, I ventured into the sea of high schoolers on the main floor of the Showbox. I soon found myself sucked into the energy being produced by the teens that didn’t seem to have the usual self-consciousness issues. Even the awkward, pimply teenager next to me danced his little butt off, even though I don’t think he found the beat once. This is a pretty difficult feat considering how beat-driven Ratatat’s music is with its heavy backbeats, repetitive melodies, and cleverly placed sound effects, but I was pleased with the little guy’s effort.

The highlights of the evening were definitely Ratatat’s performance of “Mirando” and, of course, “Wildcat.” The crowd became absolutely fanatical to these two very danceable songs. “Mirando” in particular received rousing applause at the end for its accompanying tweaked scenes from Predator. The only criticism I have for their set is the apparent love affair they have with their smoke machine. There was an entire song or two that I couldn’t even see the stage . . . and couldn’t even see ten feet in front of me. But that’s just in the details, and little could take away from this energy-packed show. 

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