Monday, April 04, 2005

LCD Soundsystem, Mahi Mahi / Bowery Ballroom / April 2, 2005

Man oh man, what some people will do to get into a sold-out LCD Soundsystem show! In addition to all the chatter about astronomical eBay and Craigslist purchases, some guys I talked to took a bus all the way down from Boston just for the evening. And the DFA made poor Nick Sylvester run around with a cameraman following him while he asked audience members silly questions about Death From Above 1979 and the pope in exchange for his ticket. (If that footage ever sees the light of day, I’m the asshole standing next to Matthew Perpetua and shouting something stupid about James Murphy and the White Castle in Williamsburg.)

Mahi Mahi played a razor-sharp set of Numbers/Whirlwind Heat-type post-Kraftwerk icy robot dance stuff, but they were way better than Numbers or Whirlwind Heat. Too bad nobody saw them but a bunch of people from their hometown of Providence, me, David Byrne and David Byrne’s hot blonde lady friend. (Mr. Talking Head seems to be showing up at the Bowery Ballroom a lot lately, yes?)

I’m pretty sure LCD played the exact same set they did at SXSW. Same bitchy jokes and same Deth Killers t-shirt on James Murphy, too, though he seemed less drunk. Alas, no mosh pit this time, though there was a group of hefty jock-type dudes who kept hoisting one another up on their shoulders, pumping their fists in the air and yelling. (I get the feeling Murphy would not have invited them to the Daft Punk show at his house.) If I hadn’t been spoiled by the SXSW set, and I had positioned myself somewhere in the room where I could actually see the band as well as dance, I would have probably gone bananas for this show. I mean, it was still a LCD Soundsystem show, therefore making it 100x better than most concerts. Few things on this planet beat jumping up and down while they play “Movement” or “Tribulations.” But I couldn’t help being that jerk who kept saying, “It was so much better in Austin, maaan.”

Nick (sans cameraman) escorted me to the after-party at the Tribeca Grand, where we danced like the dorky rock critics we are among the scary Russian mafia-looking men in suits and their molls in halter tops. Dave P. and Headman spun some surprisingly wack ‘80s crap that made me feel like I was at Culture Club or something. Of course, as soon as we put our coats on and headed out the door, they started playing Annie and “Drop It Like It’s Hot.”

P.S. The Bowling For Soup show was still better.