The Decemberists, Live at The Paramount, May 4, 2007

Evidently, the majority of Seattle-based Decemberists fans suck. I say “evidently” because this startling, somewhat depressing and somewhat useless fact became evident to me when I saw the Decemberists live at the Paramount at the beginning of the month.

Most everybody in the crowd, with the exception of me and my friends, was thirty or older (in most cases much older, sporting a very unimpressive grey haircut and some shoes that they certainly bought at REI), seemed to know the band and the music fairly well but felt completely un-compelled to display any of this knowledge––this could be achieved through singing, cheering or generally moving your body ever so slightly to the music. In fact, emotion wasn’t on display at all; at least any emotion besides boredom, if that is an emotion. Either way, boredom was in no short supply that evening and it was not all the fans’ fault, either.
Colin Meloy, the Decemberists' über-intellectual front man (read: trying way to hard to be Ben Gibbard), flaunted his intelligence in a number of equally exhausting ways: (1) choosing to open the set with a pre-recorded six minute song that sounded like something that was meant to be played before each Russian ambassadors’ meeting, circa 1880, (2) talking––in a very nasally voice––at length about Portland’s (the Decemberists’ appropriately artsy hometown) several merits and supposed superiority to Seattle, etc. and, (3) while talking at length, using unnecessarily large words––like “denizen”––which truly have no place in spoken conversation. Although that all-important element of any live show, simply known as “the vibe,” really could not have been any worse, the actual concert, inasmuch as the music, was not a complete loss.
Meloy and the rest of the band, although unattractive and a little stagey, do make very good music. Some of this good music was played at this concert, but much of it, somewhat perplexingly, was not. They neglected to play pretty much every single one of their “hits,” and instead chose to play a slew of obscure, back-catalog songs. This conscious reluctance to play their more popular songs seemed like another, more underhanded way of flaunting their intellect. “Yes, we only play songs from our early cassettes and worst-selling albums, because, you see, the fact that nobody knows, likes or understands them means that they are very intelligent songs. Their virtually unknown status is the only validation we need to play them for the rest of the night. Enjoy.” Yeah, cool, we get it; you’re intellectual.
Luckily, there were still some compelling moments of their just-over-an-hour set. To begin with, after that Russian anthem, the Portlander’s took the stage and launched into their epic three-piece story “The Crane Wife” (off of their excellent new album of the same name.). The song is fabulous and live it was technically tight and emotionally strong. Of course, the rest of the bored slobs in the audience seemed to have already lost interest by this point, about three minutes into the set. Their loss.
After “The Crane Wife” finished up, complete with an awesome electric-guitar-feedback-distortion ending, the lights went down and the group started right in again with their other three-part, 12-minute song, “The Island.” During this time I was singing a long and jumping up in the air and by the time both of these epic songs were over, I was totally energized and eager for the rest of the set, despite the everyone else around me. Unfortunately, this two song, sub-30 minute extravaganza was the high point of the show, and took place at the very start of it. They did play some other good songs: “O Valencia!,” “The Perfect Crime #2” and fan-favorite “The Mariner’s Revenge Song.” However, they didn’t play several of the songs that seem obligatory at any Decemberists show: “The Infanta,” “July, July,” and the marvelously anti-war “16 Military Wives.”
Though the show was actually disappointing because of its poor quality, equally disappointing, in retrospect, was the knowledge that it could easily have been much, much better if a few specific things had been done differently. The vast majority of the audience could have either been much more into the music, or just not have come, Meloy and his band could have better sensed the bored atmosphere and injected some life into the lame Seattle crowd by cutting down on their own unfunny banter and playing more well-known, sing-alongable songs.
Maybe the Decemberists’ brand of nuance-filled, hyper-literate bookstore rock doesn’t translate exceptionally well into a crowd-pleasing chorus-filled live show. Or maybe most of the people who think they like the Dememberists actually don’t like them at all. Or maybe all of the people who actively dislike the Decemberists decided to spend thirty dollars on a ticket to their tour-closing Seattle show because, hey, they all had nothing better to do on that particular Friday night. Or maybe attending concerts where the other attendees are visibly not enjoying the music and the people playing that music are visibly down-talking the aforementioned attendees––in a very nasally voice––isn’t really my thing. Maybe. And it doesn’t really matter how much I am enjoying the music, which, for the most part, I was. The vibe was killed before it was even born.