Monsters in Manhattan

Jim James, Conor Oberst, M. Ward and Mike Mogis’s superband took the stage at the Beacon Theatre this past Sunday night on Manhattan’s Upper West Side. I’ve been listening to the album consistently over the past several months and really cannot stop playing it, so needless to say the expectations were high.

M. Ward led the first act of the concert, playing a couple songs solo before bringing back out the rest of the band. I’ve never gotten that into M. Ward but thought he brought a lot to the show. He had kind of an Elvis-like stage presence—doing some serious hip-jutting and guitar slapping. His soothing, throaty voice eased the audience in the meat of the show and we all knew we were in for something special.

The show was passed around between Ward, Oberst and James, each playing several of their own, and some of them completely solo. The chemistry between the five on stage was unbelievable; acting and sounding like they’ve been playing with each other for years. Oberst, Ward and James in particular seem to share almost a brotherly-like relationship. Oberst being the troubled, tortured youngest also known for exploding into manic fits. M. Ward kind of has the cooler older brother vibe and seemed to control the pace of the show, and then there is James, the wild-card middle child with the most talent. The three really seemed to have a common affection towards each other, even physically, as James and Oberst showed their brotherly love as they locked heads during the last seconds of I Will Be There When You Die.

Although some of Oberst’s solo acoustic performances brought the show to small lull, it soon started rolling again with the thundering Map of the World. It all climaxed with the entire band rocking Smokin’ from Shootin, with James and Oberst trading the verses. The balcony crowd that could have been lulled to sleep by Oberst’s melancholy droning just moments earlier was brought to its feet, screaming back at the band with fists pumping.

The band closed the three hour set with a powerful, light ridden His Masters Voice. As they belted out the last notes, the curtain dramatically dropped, which I thought was a really cool effect and one that I have never seen at a concert. It rose again as each member bowed in unison to a standing ovation. A special end to a special performance.

Throughout and after the show I felt very relieved; thankful that there are still artists who just seem to really get it. Sometimes I get a little fearful about what’s next to come in music, or in what direction or misdirection it’s headed. A few weeks ago, my roommate had a great point about “the future” when we caught Animal House on TV. He said that as soon as kids start to think that this film or the type of humor it represents is not funny, or if they don’t understand it, all is lost. I guess I feel the same way about music. Sunday night reminded me though—that there will always be bullshit to deal with. There will always be Nicklebacks. But this band really gives off a hope and understanding that the good stuff will also always be there too.