Tampa Calling

Let me preface this by saying I’m a huge fan of Animal Collective. I’ve followed them since 2005’s Feels, which mystified, intrigued and ultimately turned me onto the the experimental trio, and I think the new album, Merriweather Post Pavilion, is among this year’s best. Where other people find their experimental music abrasive and hard to understand, I dig the collages of chaotic electronics, the repetition, the fickle melodies, the whooped-chanted-sung lyrics. But while last night’s show had some pretty great moments, the overall performance wasn’t quite as dynamic as I’d expected, the subtleties didn’t translate very well in State Theatre’s high frequency-swallowing room, and the repetition that I normally enjoy was almost exhausting in a live setting. (Photos by Phil Bardi.)

The band had a pretty visually appealing stage set-up: two tall towers of speakers on either side of the stage covered in white sheets, a huge white ball hanging in the center over the stage, with animated projections and electro-lights playing against it (did these guys see Phish’s Hampton set up or what?), a huge backdrop featuring Merriweather’s dizzying optical illusion cover art, soundboard tables covered with white sheets that lit up in a rainbow of neon colors at various musical cues. (MORE PICS AFTER THE BREAK)

I just didn’t have enough patience for the music, which the band once described as “”sonic, freeform, electronic, horror, gospel, hip-hop, soul, pop madness.” AC has been known to put out a new album, then pretty much retire the songs and start anew once the “support” tour starts. This show, while not entirely off track from Merriweather, definitely featured alot of stuff I didn’t recognize, at least a few new songs scattered amidst heavy, reverbed, multi-layered electronics that were drawn out into long, pulsating moments of noisiness. The Geologist, Panda Bear and Avey Tare “played” a stage full of nob-studded soundboards, tweaking and bending the waves of sonics, adding live percussion or synthified keys or guitar distorted beyond the point of recognition, sing-calling or tribal chanting and whooping over it.

The all-ages show was packed with young faces, teens fresh out of school for the summer and more that a few very obviously under the influence of chemicals. (We saw a kid escorted out who could barely walk without help.) My crew and I were parked next to two extraordinarily fucked-up young girls I dubbed the “Blitzed Babies,” who were beyond the point of no return before the show even started, one of them yanking at her hair and muttering, “I need them to start playing now.”

As far as I could tell, the kids enjoyed what they could understand, i.e., any tangents with enough of a beat to qualify as dance music and any songs off Merriweather — “Also Frightening,” “Brothersport,” “My Girls” and a few others. But although the kids seemed dumbfounded or confused and generally unsure of how to react to the less comprehensible moments, of which there were many, the overall response at the end was loud and enthusiastic.

Maybe I’m just getting too old for electro noise. Admittedly, I only caught the last half of Black Dice’s set, but I might as well have missed the entire thing for the amount of time I actually spent in the room attempting to absorb the chunky, industrial electronica that vibrated my sternum most uncomfortably and gave me an insta-headache with its volume and eye-crossing (read: not pleasant) visuals. I like raucous music, and psychedelic animation, but this was much too much even for me.

A few side notes:

There was a line of ticketless hopefuls waiting outside for people to leave or get kicked out so they could buy the vacated space in the sold-out show. And where there was demand, there were money-grubbers waiting to sell their spot in line to the highest bidder. More than a few people (including my friend Earthman) resorted to this extra fee in order to gain access to the hippest show of the year. I think he was more disappointed in the show than I was, maybe because he invested more money and effort on it.

And Tampa Bay Rays center fielder Fernando Perez (who didn’t play last night’s game in NY) was totally jamming out behind us and even called a few of the Merriweather songs that were barely recognizable to the rest of my crew. I’ll have to start rooting for him at the games — any sports fan who’s also a music lover deserves some cred.

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