Quite unlike the normal acoustic rock shows I cover, The Giraffes’ concert/party celebrating the release of their new album Prime Motivator at the Mercury Lounge illuminated the world of rock to me while offering me sanctuary from the relentless storm outside. But inside was not much safer, as audience and bands alike smoked, sprayed beer and liquor, threw cups, crowd surfed, and screamed ”FUCK” while accompanying it with one, or possibly both, fingers.
Before the Giraffes went on, the Brooklyn rock/punk/metal band Goes Cube took the stage, welcoming its audience in from the storm by spraying it with bottled water. Head banging accompanied the overwhelmingly loud, powerful, driving force of the music. Their music is so loud it allowed for no thought, only motion and emotion. In a frenzy of movement, a cymbal got knocked to the floor but stayed felled, disregarded, as the band raged louder despite the missing instrument. Goes Cube, the ultimate garage band, produces music that is not meant to be understood, but felt. Listening to screamed, undecipherable lyrics, the only thing I understood was how I felt as I mindlessly moved to the throbbing beat. It is emotion conveyed through sound rather than through words.
Despite slight deafness after Goes Cube, I eagerly anticipated The Giraffes. But nothing could prepare me for what laid in wait. The performance dynamics were unlike anything I have ever seen, despite my brief teen-angst foray into the rock world. The crowd, screaming “fuck you” while showering the band with solo cups (both empty and full), loves the band, reaching out to touch just the hem of lead singer Aaron Lazar’s pants like some post-modern, post-apocalyptic Pope. But with his shuffling dance steps, raw vocals, and less than holy vocabulary, he is nothing like the Papa.
That night, though, it was all fair game. Don’t dish it if you can’t take it. Fingers flying, the Giraffes brandished their middle fingers with vigor, taunting the crowd. Not a group to back down, audience members took aim and threw cups, smacking Lazar, who merely smiled, square in the face.
Lazar fed the audience’s energy, screaming, “Let me hear you say fuck you! Let me hear you say fuck me! Let me hear you say fuck us!” Meanwhile, drummer Andrew Totolos, wearing a bra on his head, shouted, “I smell a 34c.” Obviously, being PC is out. Asses were grabbed, water tossed, and cigarettes shared (one fan actually leaps onto the stage to light the dangling, unlit cigarette of the drummer).
Prior to this show I was of the opinion that a certain type of musician drank water at shows while the hard-core rocker types drank beer. But I discover beer is for pansies. Hard-core rockers actually drink Jim Bean. Swigging from the bottle, Lazar sang, danced, and occasionally filled the cups and mouths of awaiting audience members.
Even while “bartending,” Lazar enchants. His voice, rasping, rough, and honest, pierces through madness, hitting me full force as he skillfully wove a web with his sultry vocals, slowly ensnaring the audience, pulling it in. In horrified astonishment I watch as he lowered his lit cig to his arm. Without a grimace, he cast the dead cigarette to the floor, his arm branded forever by this performance. This scar hardly stands alone. His left arm is covered with band-aids, hiding souvenirs of recent performances.
The Giraffes are born performers. They feed off their crowd’s energy, in turn inciting them in a symbiotic relationship that threatens insanity. For only one moment were my eyes torn from the stage when a fellow Melophobe offered me earplugs. During that one brief moment, my notepad and pen are snatched from my hand. Looking around in startled shock, I was stunned to see the bassist with pad in one hand, pen in the other. After frantically scribbling a message, he tossed them back to immediately destroy his strings once more. I suppose I was meant to leave the concert with one thought, one message:
Hi there! Heart The Giraffes. P.S. Yer cute
Talk about making an impression!
Goes Cube Playlist
Clenching Jaws
Bluest Sky
I Hold Grudges
Victory
Saab Sonnet
Restore
The Only Daughter
Grinding The Knifeblade
Urbana, Not Savoy
The Giraffes Playlist
Smoke
Done
Prime Motivator
Honest Men
The Power of Fatherhood
Medicaid Benefit Applique
Diskowarts
E.S.F.
Allergic to Magnets
Clever Boy
Flahoog
Lovie
Sickness (This Is)
Encore
I’ll Be Your Daddy
Man U
Sugarbomb
Ugh. Paste’s profile of Free Energy made me kind of hate them. So does your review. It’s this unctuous defense of good-time rock-and-roll ("we’re just here to party, and we’re awesome!") that seems more self-serving than fun-loving.
by beth on Wed Mar 17, 2010 at 09.41 pm from the entry: Foreign Born + Free Energy - The Knitting Factory (Brooklyn, NY; Mar. 12, 2010)
that inescapable feeling you are referring to, is that like when you hear something and you could have sworn you heard it before because of the nostalgic catchy quality? or is is like when you’ve heard a band exactly like said band?
great post by the way!
by paul on Wed Mar 17, 2010 at 03.15 pm from the entry: The Novel Ideas - "The Sky Is A Field" - Borrow It
Whoa! I had no idea she was enegaged. You would never know with the way she behaves! Wow!
by art on Wed Mar 17, 2010 at 09.48 am from the entry: Nikki Darlin and John McCauley: 1+1=1
This comment stream is so meta. Great review Kelly.
by chris on Tue Mar 16, 2010 at 07.50 pm from the entry: Flying Lotus - "Cosmogramma" - Buy It
no prob. The whole album is excellent, combining some of the harder sonics of Los Angeles with the meat of his debut and obviously difficult to summarize in only 50 words… 
I’d say it’s on par with the debut, but better than Los Angeles.
by kelly on Tue Mar 16, 2010 at 06.23 pm from the entry: Flying Lotus - "Cosmogramma" - Buy It
By the way, I really liked the mp3 posted. Thanks.
by Joshua H on Tue Mar 16, 2010 at 06.17 pm from the entry: Flying Lotus - "Cosmogramma" - Buy It
WHO WROTE THIS...PUKE ! “WHO WROTE THIS...PUKE ! “Picture yourself coasting your bike past space funk palm trees, homeless harpists, vintage video arcades, electronic drum circles, and 60s psychedelic singers who’re waiting for the bus. Cosmogramma is kinda like that if someone suddenly tripped you just as you’re starting to enjoy the ride. But in a good way.””
by Joshua H on Tue Mar 16, 2010 at 06.17 pm from the entry: Flying Lotus - "Cosmogramma" - Buy It
