I came into this not knowing what to imagine or expect. In the days preceding the show, I started to get little tidbits of information about it. Like, they have a tour bus. And, they play the "When The Angels Make Contact" album from beginning to end. And there's a thousand people on stage playing. I really didn't know what to make of the replicating-the-album thing. Was this a cop-out? A marketing ploy? The album is a soundtrack/journey sort of thing, so putting the songs out of order wouldn't make much sense, but how would that fare for interests' sake? Would they dress up the songs, or might they well have just played a recording? This was to be discovered. Bring it on.









I got in to the room to a packed and hot crowd already. Museum Pieces were just finishing their opening set. I didn't see too much of it but it sounded like a foot-stomping good time. I shuffled frontward to await my turn on camera. During light testing, a sudden alarmingly-bright white burst of light shot forth, effectively blinding everyone in the room. I barely even know what happened. Is this Men In Black? Am I standing in a lightning bolt? DId someone detonate a nuclear weapon? The whole crowd went "Whoooaaaa!" Thanks, Imac. Now far be it from me to criticize too much. I just can usually avoid this, but in this case, I was forced to be wedged into this spot, and to therefore listen to the banalities going on around me. Between the over-excitable girls who stocked up on more drinks than they could balance before the set so they wouldn't have to leave and get more... and the holier-than-thou industry-member war going on ... that's where I stood. I feared for vodka-tonics to douse my camera gear as the girls gesticulated wildly about how hoooootttttt Matt Mays is omgomgomgomg. Go Matt. Hey, I was like that once too. It's funny when you realize you actually have changed, despite your best intentions to stay thrilled about absolutely everything. I have filled up many a journal with ramblings such as, "I totally got such harsh eye contact from him, oh my god, and he totally spent half the show standing right in front of me, I SWEAR!" And yes behind me I had a girl who was one-upping a Discorder CD reviewer on tactful likes and dislikes of Matt Mays versus El Torpedo and back again. Also, if one more person would have mentioned to one more other person that, this was supposed to be a movie soundtrack, you know??! - I would have lobbed them. I'm a total jerk.







Matt Mays finally came out. I thought I was going to get my head taken off by sudden reaching vodka-laden hands, but anyhow... Mays adopted this sort of creepy, slicked-back 70's southern lounge singer/talk show host/televangelist look for this show, with a velvet blazer, oldschool shades, and greasy-looking hair. Maybe it was appropriate. I don't know. But it was snazzy. Attractive? Recess on that one. Snazzy? Definitely. And sure enough, it was the album from start to finish, in all its wide-ranging glory. From the stomach-churning emotionally-rocky bits, to the loungey, vocal-effects, to the soft interludes. We're on a trip now. Video was projected over the band onto the back wall. Even the album samples were in place. Wonderful! It turns out there were nine people on stage. Sometimes not all of them were there. This included a female singer (she was awesome!), a DJ, and two drumsets! That was a surprise. Manning them were the two best drummers to come out of the east coast, Tim Jim Baker and Loel Campbell, the latter who we've seen around Cord a lot in one of his other projects, Wintersleep. Yes, one of his projects. In addition to Holy Fuck! and Contrived. I bet there's more too that I just don't know about. The double-drum assault was infuckingcredible. I'm elated at the drum wars that transpired mid-set during in a lull in all other instruments. I loved watching them from above, sharing duties on the rainshowery sounding gong thing, shakers, bongoes, and various fluffy drumsticks. Wicked heavy drums. Back and forth, sometimes alternating, sometimes in unison, smashing those drums as hard as humanly possible. At times it sounded like Wintersleep in here. It even smelled like Wintersleep in here, and I know cuz they've slept in my house. Haha. Props, boys.







While I was standing up top watching the set from behind, a guy came tumbling up beside me, leaned way over the railing, and shouted, "TIM! TIIIIM! TIM!" at... well... Tim, who was not drumming at the time, but rather leaning back against the brick wall of the bar behind his kit and surveying the show going on in front of him, waiting for his cue to start up again. Finally the guy managed to get his attention, and after a bit of squinting through the dark, Baker lofted high a beer in salute, took a swig, then picked up the sticks and went back to it. The guy wasn't done though. He moved the the other side of me, started throwing double devils, and yelling again "TIM! TIIIIM TIM TIM!" What do you want?? He already acknowledged you. What do you want him to do right now? You know what Tim's fucking doing right now? Tim's fucking drumming, that's what. Shut up and get out of my ear, I have a show to watch!!







Anyhow, it was a cool show. Watching from behind was neat too. Great vantage point, and watching the crowd react to things was interesting. Sparkly maracas? Cool. Drunk guys starting to mosh at the front? That couple who kept getting increasingly make-outty as the show progressed? The cheering and wooing when the gal singer took a line or a song? Fun. Oh and of course, the guy who chucked a bottle at the stage. Mays was irate about this. I think it was the only speaking he did in the main set, aside from introducing the band members at the end of the show. "Whoever threw that bottle, if you do that again, I'm gonna go out there and knock your block off." This elicted some giggles from the crowd, maybe because of choosing the decidedly unthreatening threat of knocking one's block off. "I'm not joking. That shit's not cool." I know that tone. He wasn't joking. The gal, Alanna (Thanks for confirming her name, Jennileeeee! She really was marvelous) dedicated her song to the bottle-thrower. Way to take it in stride, girl!







Oh, and "Commando 850?" Holy coolest song ever. That was one sexy performance. Everything was raging, and I mean raaaaging, all at once. You know, even Jesus was at this show. That's how cool it was. He kept slinking around by the stairwell behind me. Jesus! Hey, Jesus! SHout out to Jesus!





So, set over, and then Mays comes back alone and starts talking again about how much of 'a douche' that guy was who threw the bottle. Then he admitted he talks a big talk, but he couldn't beat that guy up. "... But Alanna could." Hah. So then Mays goes on to perform an encore comprised of very very altered acousticy versions of El Torpedo songs! Yippee! They were great representations of the songs. The audience sang along proudly, and even, to my delight, picked up some of the hand claps in "...September." Yes yes you have heard about that song before here in every article we've done on Matt Mays and/or El Torpedo! And well-timed, during this soft acousicness, some guy yells loudly over the crowd, "I wanna fuck you, Matt Mays!" Mays snuffled a laugh into the microphone. Memorable, dude, way to stand out.







It really was a journey. The band made the songs come alive. It was like being in the album, on that highway. I'm impressed with the diversity and the surprising and engaging show. You've done a great job, guys.Thanks, Matt Mays + co. heart.

Elsewhere

By Andy Scheffler
Photos : Andy Scheffler
Published : February, 2007.