Seeing Battles for the first time without Tyondai Braxton threw me for all kinds of loops. For one, I’d heard the new Battles single and hated it. HATED it. Even months later, I still can’t stand it–the arrangement is okay, but the vocals are silly, pandering, and completely uninteresting to a point at which I was disgusted enough with the band to consider not buying the new album. I still stand by that point, to some extent: the band using lyrical vocals in the first place seemed superfluous and confusing until Mirrored‘s second spin through my mp3 player. I thought Battles was perfectly fine as an instrumental group, and thought Braxton’s departure was a telling enough sign that the band could (and should) return to that dynamic–that is, unless Williams or any other of the existing members wanted to sing. My acquisition of Gloss Drop, if nothing else, actually encouraged me to buy the album; much like Mirrored, it’s mostly an instrumental affair, one that finds the band (in particular Dave Konopka, who seems to have inherited the majority of song-propulsion duties from Braxton) in top form on their multiple instruments. Still, as the band took the stage at the Doug Fir on May 4th, I had my doubts.
Konopka got things going (as he usually does) with a slow, pitchshifted extended intro that the band eventually warped into “Africastle.” The song (also Gloss Drop‘s leadoff track) easily stands out as one of the band’s best ever and, while I’d have preferred to have heard it later on in the show, it did do a lot to whet the fans’ appetites (I’ll get to that later). The bizarre intro highlighted one distinct change from the Braxton era–minus one member, the band seemed more comfortable jamming their way in-and-out of songs, for good or ill (I’ll get to that later). “Africastle” ended, and then the band immediately launched into “Sweetie and Shag,” one of the weaker tracks on Gloss Drop (and the first in the band’s set to feature one of the replacement vocalists). Much to the crowd’s (or, at least my) surprise, a video of Kazu Makino popped up on screens behind Stanier, allowing us to watch as she cooed her way through the song. While such theatrics are normally distracting and annoying at a smaller rock show, this actually proved to be interesting and entertaining, if only because Williams seemed to be able to control the video at will (either that, or he had a great rapport with the tech near him, just offstage). In fact, since Makino’s vocals were mixed far lower live than they were on the album, the whole song ended up sounding better. Williams’ control over the vocal samples became obvious after the song properly ended, when he slowed the Makino down to a crawl, with the video doing the same, providing an interesting bridge into “Wall Street.”
While “Wall Street” is one of the new album’s highlights (even if it does seem like a subtle dig, or at least a reference, to Braxton), the live performance ended up being somewhat lacking, largely due to the looser playing style. Williams got lost in the middle of the song amidst his own keyboard noodling; while Stanier and Konopka were able to pull him back in to finish it, a band like Battles, that requires precision playing to keep time amidst the various loops, doesn’t really have much room for error. The instrumental jam following the song was pretty cool, but then Williams slowly began the opening chords of “Ice Cream,” bringing me (and only me–I freely admit to being in the minority on this one) to a crashing halt. Matias Aguayo popped up on the video screens, the white hipsters in the crowd lost their shit, and the band pretty much lost me.
It drove home a painful point: that Battles is a pop group, now, and clearly playing to the audience that likes their music, even supposedly ‘edgy’ independent music, easily-digested and, well, glossy. While this isn’t entirely a bad thing–lords know everyone in the band put in their dues and deserve to make money off their music–it also means the complexity of the band’s music has ceased to be its selling point, highlighting a role Braxton played that’s no longer there. Makino and Aguayo are hardly bad musicians, but their roles in Battles’ music could not have been more clearly tacked-on and unnecessary, to the point at which their presence as disconnected, easily-manipulated video images was enough; while Braxton’s presence meant the band couldn’t be as loose with certain sonic elements, the sheer fact that he was able to create the sounds that he did live was a sight (and sound) to behold, treating his voice the same way he treated his keyboards or guitar. It was strange, beautiful and, even when it was poppy, it was still challenging.
Following “Ice Cream,” Williams created an admittedly entertaining loop of segments of Aguayo’s vocal parts that got my interest just in time for Konopka to begin “Inchworm,” the song that most displays the new Battles at its finest: creating pretty, danceable pop songs using sweet sounds and clever technology. It’s a beautiful song, and the band handled it wonderfully, but I was already emotionally on my way out the door, pausing only when they played “My Machines,” the only Gloss Drop song with guest vocals that actually works. Gary Numan’s face appeared onscreen, of course, still in the gothed-out makeup he’s been wearing since the 80’s, and I got a kick out of one last jolt of energy, but then that was it. The band methodically plodded their way through “Futura,” disappeared for a few minutes, then came back out for an encore.
Something very telling happened before the band began to play again: Williams picked up the mic after hearing a request for “Tonto” (one of Mirrored‘s singles) and politely said, among other things “we’re playing all these songs because we just got out of the studio [a blatant lie, as Gloss Drop has been in the can for months], and that’s what’s on our minds.” At that point, with Stanier not yet having retaken the stage, I knew right away that “Sundome” was going to be the encore, and that going to the bathroom was more important than watching Williams and Konopka horse around with loops for five minutes. As I passed the empty merch table, I shook my head; the band hadn’t even bothered to bring any tangible reminders for people to buy, which was perfectly fine, but still disappointing. It was the first Battles show (or the first show of any band) I’ve ever been to in which the headlining band had absolutely no merch to sell.
I finished my business and stood by the door as the band finished “Sundome.” My friend Nate walked up to me with a lady in tow. “1939 Ensemble [the opener] blew these guys away,” he said, before disappearing into the night.
I nodded, not necessarily agreeing, but not sufficiently blown away by Battles to really disagree, either. Considering Battles was, for the longest time, a band I fought so hard to get other people to pay attention to, I felt surprised at how indifferent I’d felt at the end of the show. I didn’t have my hopes completely dashed from a musical standpoint, but I wasn’t really interested in what was going on–and, maybe, that’s what makes me feel worst about the whole thing.
Leave a Reply