However, who needs an intro act when you have Florence and the Machine. My assumption coming in was that this was going to be a spectacle, rather than the straight-forward rock concerts I've gotten this year from Pete Yorn, Murder By Death, Old 97s, The Airborne Toxic Event, and Toad the Wet Sprocket.* Their videos are strange to be succinct, and before you go also crazy indie rock elitist douche, I should tell you how I came upon them, and it is a dirty tale. I found them in a Touchtunes jukebox, and I had one credit left. I was like, "I have no idea who the hell this is, why not?" This was the result.
*This is not a knock on their performances. It's just four quarters in one hand and a dollar bill in the other. Worth the same, just different.
Ok, now you know I'm going all indie cred and ginger support group on you. But let's be honest here, they remove our souls at birth and give us some kickass pipes. Men like me are given boisterous, inappropriately loud bar voices and the women get angel's lungs and larynges.* As for indie cred, I have none, so don't worry about me starting that.
*I'm not kidding. Look at the best female vocalists around, and do you notice anything disproportionate to the rest of society.
For the first time in my many trips to the Pageant, there is a curtain up on stage. Curtains are sometimes overlooked in musical productions, but in general they are unnecessary. The bands are usually set-up in perfunctory fashion: a lead singer up front, a drummer behind him, percussionists, keyboardist, bassist, and guitarist on each wing varying which each band. Now, this is not to say the setup defied such concepts, but in this occasion, the band was removed from the front of the stage. It implied that this was not a band, but rather Florence...and the Machine. However, this is not a diva act; it is just obvious who here is the showstopper despite the talent of the musicians around her. Also, it allowed the performance and fluidity of Florence's movement, which was key.
The crowd was as much the star at this concert, as I have never seen one nearly as raucous as this one. Before the curtain was even down, the music died and out of the encompassing silence came the slow ascending roar of the packed concert hall. The Pageant isn't the best place to see a concert acoustically, but that moment the crowd noise was angelic in its anticipation. When Florence's silhouetted figure appeared on the curtain, the steady roar became a deafening scream, the women drowning out the men as they always do whether it be a choir, a crowd, or any argument. As the curtains fell the music began.
This is about where I lose track of time at any concerts. I could not tell you a set-list to save my life. I could tell you exactly which tracks off of Lungs were not played, and which song she most obviously used for the encore. I can just tell you what I heard, which is probably unlike what some heard. My friend Kathy was with me and I assume she heard her singing, which even for a new initiate is a wonder. However, she would understand what I felt if she though more about how she felt at Toad the Wet Sprocket, a band she was more "intimate" with. I get a feeling at concerts, almost a euphoric feeling, that I assume is how people feel when they are in love.* It's the exact opposite of the pit of the stomach sickness you feel when breaking up with someone, assuming you still have some feelings for them. There is something to this that brings me to music. I have no musical talent, as I don't really know what my voice is capable of or suited for, and don't play an instrument.** It is the opiate of the masses like Captain Murphy was.
*I also distinctly remember this feeling coming from two movies as well. The first was The Fast and the Furious. I remember leaving the theater and just wanting to drive fast, reckless, and free. I know, it was cliche and slightly moronic, but I was 16. The second time was after 500 Days of Summer. It was the first movie that was about me I felt, (again, cliche) and something about it hit a nerve in a good way. The movie is so much about me, that when I write autobiographical fiction it is hard to avoid the story set out in that movie. Maybe you'll see what I mean.
**This being said shitty poets make great songwriters, so if you need a songwriter I'm your man. I actually do have a brilliant concept album, but it's years or musical practice away.
When I talked about Neko Case, I mentioned how clean her voice was, hitting each note perfectly, never breaking. In this case, Florence was hectic and energetic, just as powerful but purposely reckless and tearing into us with abandon. I am amazed by artists who give up their careers in music, because the power of their voices to uplift and amaze the broken masses such as myself is clear. The performance was as much about her dancing, not with grace, as she freely admits but with intent. While performing, she was eating up the moment, taking in everything the crowd would give her. Then, she stopped to talk.
Two things everyone should know about gingers: we are incredibly shy by nature, but once comfortable are effervescent, clever, and perhaps even gregarious. Secondly, we are born into self-deprecation in a society that increasingly values a leather hide more than our alabaster skin. I love how as the crowd screamed as she tried to talk she seemed taken aback. An act or a shy acceptance, it was amazing to see from a successful singer. Then as she first spoke another amazing thing happened, she had a tiny voice. Other singers with the same powerful singing voices also had incredibly powerful speaking voices, and hers was almost like a whisper compared to her songs. As for the second point, she mentioned that obviously with her skin if she went outside she would turn to stone. I object as this furthers the notion that gingers are trolls. She obviously may have a problem with the shyness in the future, but obviously needs to get over the self-deprecation as she is a beautiful woman. I get to keep it as I am, of course, a troll.
The problem may occur that she will become too popular to fit in such small venues in the future, so I suggest you see her in one while you can. While I complain about the acoustics in the Pageant, it is not the cave that Scottstrade and Chaifetz can, so I rue that moment not for my indie rock douchey sake but actual musical reasons. Amphitheaters should work better, but remember that the sun is a deal breaker.
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