Fruity jam sessions not enough to please

By Nate Adams
Collegian Editor
October 3, 2007

For the second time in 10 days I found myself in the Starlight Ballroom, my purpose to see a band known for its psychedelic, tribal chant music and ravenous, almost obsessive fan base. Yes, I was at an Animal Collective show.

Long heralded in the indie world for its transcendent live shows, Animal Collective enticed me to brave the sonic expressionism and cult-like audience in the hope of having my perspective changed. After an hour-and-a-half of music, I left the show early, with my perspective unaltered and my sense of disappointment through the roof.

In the same way dust clouds in space can sometimes form stars among their chaos, so was Animal Collective able to form some interesting and beautiful music from its ambient swell. However, most of it just hung in the heavens as a useless, ambient drone.

I arrived at the show about two hours late; having only a marginal interest in Animal Collective, I couldn’t have cared less about the band opening for it. The crowd gathered there was a who’s-who of hipster stereotypes, each person more of a caricature than the last. At a glance, I put the ratio of people on some kind of drug compared to sober people at four-to-one.

Apparently, the staff at the Starlight Ballroom expected a similar turnout, as the strobe lights, disco balls and rotating spotlights were twinkling at full blast. The place even had a visualizer program running on its monitors in case people wanted to space out. Even I was so caught up in the colorful shapes floating across the screen that I almost didn’t notice when Animal Collective took the stage.

The band, usually a robust four-piece, was down to a svelte trio, with musician Deaken missing from the lineup. The remaining members of the collective persevered without him, launching into “Unsolved Mysteries,” off of the new album Strawberry Jam, to start the set.

As the song progressed with its carnival-freak-meets-folk-singer sense, I could see why people were into this band. The three men lurched around on stage, each focused on playing the hell out of their instruments. I was also impressed by lead singer Avey Tare’s vocal abilities. The man was able to go from a harsh, throaty scream to a high-pitched, beautiful croon at the drop of a hat.

It wasn’t until the song slowed down that the wheels began to fall off. Rather than ending the song properly, the band opted to play noisy ambient sounds as a means of transitioning into other songs. It was these moments of formless, unorganized sound that made the show unbearable. These interludes would sometimes last for minutes at a time, stretching thin and long, outstaying their welcome. What’s more, the band began to lock into these interludes, making them the main focus of the show and pushing the songs into the periphery. It’s a shame, because tunes like “Peacebone” and “Fireworks” were downright good songs that got swallowed in an oppressive wall of shapeless dissonance.

Maybe I was missing something, but watching the crowd’s reaction told me that I wasn’t alone. When the songs were actually playing, people swayed, danced and stomped with hypnotic glee. However, once the noise kicked in, people turned to each other, not sure of how to react. Slowly, the people around me began to disperse and move away from the band onstage. Only the users were enjoying it. Those with minds altered by substance or other outside influence were eating the ambient interludes up with zeal.

After six songs and countless minutes of nonsense, I turned tail and fled the Ballroom, frustrated at wasted potential and disappointed in a band that supposedly has one of the best live shows going. Despite some generally bright spots, the night was nothing more than dust in the darkness. Perhaps the stoners and hippies got it right, maybe a band as “out there” as Animal Collective demands an alternate state of mind, but if that’s what it takes for me to enjoy a concert, I’ll pass every time.

adamsn1@lasalle.edu