Recap Ben Folds at The Riviera

An army of khakis, cashmere sweaters, scarves, and other items freshly purchased at a Banana Republic descended on the Riv Friday night to watch the epically catchy Ben Folds kick off what will surely be an epically catchy tour—and all those thirsting for a very safe dose of piano-based rock ’n’ roll were more than obliged.

Rolling eyes aside, Mr. Folds has the chops to put on a very satisfying show. He knows what he’s good at and sticks to it, as his career has continually proven that while his albums may not be musically diverse, they deliver a smart blend of dork humor and real sentiment that never fail to please his faithful fan base. The most satisfying aspect of his live show, surely, is that his music translates almost seamlessly from album to stage, and literally every single song is an encouraged sing-a-long for anyone that knows it (yes, even “Levi Johnston’s Blues”).

Spliced with both cuts from his newest collaboration with author Nick Hornby—which, unsurprisingly, sounds a lot like all his other albums with a slight skew toward the literary—and old favorites, the show was a piano-pounding delight that clearly was never going to be ground-breaking in the first place. Knowing what you’re in for is key to a Ben Folds show, as the crowd is sure to be eclectic in age—plenty of older couples doing very parent-like dances are a staple—and completely homogenous in every other way. In other words, when Folds played the first few bars of “Rockin’ The Suburbs” and the crowd got as loud as it had at any point in the show, he couldn’t help but laugh through the first few lines describing the hardships of being “male, middle-class, and white” (and there was also no shortage of people singing “fuck” and looking embarrassed about it). 

Still, even the most cynical of concert-goer is defied not to smile at a show like this. As the kick-off show of the tour, there were glitches joked off—piano issues and Folds reading lyrics off of pieces of paper he would ball up and throw to the crowd. There was a synth jam that included the vocal admission, “This is an excuse to use the synthesizer.” And, very particular to a Ben Folds concert, there was a hilariously unbalanced ratio of crowd noise to any movement that could be considered dance-like (except, again, all those parents). Stretch all of this out over two hours and 20+ songs that ended with a packed house all singing along happily to “Zak And Sara,” “Kate,” and “Army,” and surely even the most elite music fan’s sneer switches to a grin and cheers for an encore (which included a rare live version of “Underground”).

Openers Lady Danville sounded much like the unwanted lovechild of Ben Folds’ notebook and piano, but the trio was clearly a hit with the younger, female members of the audience—manning their own merch booth, many a young lady could be heard giggling while asking to buy a T-shirt from the Danville members. And to further underline the surreal amount of courtesy and politeness coursing through the suburban veins in attendance, there were shockingly few back-handed compliments directed at Danville or its fans.