“Their sincerity, the music's sheer joy, its lack of irony made what could be the worst '80s excess seem... fresh, natural and effective.”

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By Anders Larson  |  Send to Friend

Evangelicals and Headlights are two bands touring on what Headlights singer Erin Fein calls a "shared aesthetic" of romance. When I mentioned this to Evangelicals singer Josh Jones he visibly bristled, mentioning the "friction" of sound he feels his band achieves on stage. Perhaps, it seems, down there on Earth, as friction, but, from high above the multitudes, bumping into each other looks like a harmonious ocean. This harmonious ocean is what the Evangelicals produced at their live show: a beautiful, chaotic distillation of fluid musical ecstasy, rarely seen where it's never sunny in Philadelphia.

Opening was a local band, Kid Kreyole -- an emo-meets-big-beat outfit who managed to take us on a wild emotional monorail from the mid ‘90s to the mid ‘90s and back again. Impressively backed by the monolithic drumming of the remaining members nervously playing across each other, blending in the same way that blending school paints together always comes up with brown. There were moments, particularly the last song, with it's off-kilter, call-and-response vocal pattern and shifting tempos, that fended off the feeling of being pelted by potatoes. But with the ‘90s far behind us, angst, like American Gladiators, needs to be thoroughly repackaged to remain interesting.

Headlights is a five-piece from Champaign, Illinois, touring on the back of an excellent new LP, Some Racing, Some Stopping (Polyvinyl). They took the stage and immediately brightened the room. On record, their bubbling, technicolor indie-pop, sometimes unfavorably (and unfairly) compared to the band Stars, is very pleasant, but, like so many other Polyvinyl bands, bordering on the anodyne. Live, their sound blossoms and fills the room. Erin and company's soulful harmonies cascaded across a post-motoric rhythm with a sound that arched, ached and shimmered as it flirted with itself on such gems as "April 2nd." The crowd obviously was entranced, one young bearded man in particular getting so into it that he caressed himself from head to toe right before the stage, resembling a fisherman rubbing himself down with sensual oils. The sight of this might have been the only thing preventing my inner chi from turning into a diabetic lesbian. Thankfully, the band was so enraptured that they barely noticed, smiling instead at each other in a way that made you feel that, when not making music, they make sweet and tender love with each other to Francoise Hardy and Marvin Gaye, both of whom are obvious influences.

The Evangelicals, supporting a crackling second album, The Evening Descends (Dead Oceans), looked as if they had emerged from the worst kind of neon hipster hellhole, bringing with them their own lights, including black lights and kicking off with a flourish of dry ice (!). Naturally, I was expecting a band with the conceit of Rick Wakeman hampered by the talent of Rick Derringer. Then they took off and the harrowing cynic was sandblasted away from me. They soared, creating and shaping their beautiful chaos in the air while Jones’ fluid, clear vocals shot like a shooting star in the mist. They sweated influences: Roxy Music, Ultravox!, Mercury Rev, Cocteau Twins, twisting and turning them in on each other, wringing every last drop of euphoria they could out of the music. I felt physically lifted off the ground and when the strobe light struck the near-continual laps of dry ice -- it didn't even seem cheesy. Their sincerity, the music's sheer joy, its lack of irony made what could be the worst ‘80s excess seem... fresh, natural and effective. I later found after talking to Jones that they improvised extensively throughout their set, which may be what he was referring to by "friction." But the only friction felt that night was from the frigid air outside, when reality hit after the Evangelicals and Headlights, if only for a few hours, made the cynics dance.

 

Anders Larson was not born here, he enjoys snobby music and snobbier cocktails.