Grizzly Bear at Cedar Cultural Center
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Grizzly Bear
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The critical acclaim surrounding Grizzly Bear isn’t for the band’s live shows. The obsessive perfectionism that brought forth the new Veckatimest also brought a standing-room-only crowd of converts and curious onlookers to the Cedar Cultural Center on Sunday, marked by a mix of energetic bopping and outright yawns late into the night.
Here We Go Magic had the unenviable task of opening for what must be one of the most hyped tours of the year, but the Brooklyn quintet cheerfully rose to the occasion. The group's set began with a slow, fuzzy sound not unlike an amped-up Low, but the instrumentals broke at unexpected moments into energetic vocals and complex guitar riffs.
As a sound technician set up the monitors during the extended pause between bands, he admonished some fans who pressed up against the stage, warning that the slightest nudge of a monitor might ruin the whole show. Facetious or not, that kind of exacting precision is the sort of thing that might make a live show feel terribly precious and dull. (The sangfroid of Veckatimest, with its complex arrangements and harmonies balanced like a skyscraper of cards, might suggest the same.) To their credit, though, the members of Grizzly Bear took the stage and played with energy and effusiveness.
Ed Droste led the layered vocal arrangements through opener “Southern Point”—a track whose full harmonies recollect Fleet Foxes—and the rhythm of the show stayed at a fairly even keel throughout the bulk of the set. With the whole band visibly perspiring as they moved confidently through their paces, Droste remarked on how warm it was in the club, especially in light of the fall-like weather outside. A cheer went up when Daniel Rossen sat down at the Wurlitzer for the infectious and easily accessible “Two Weeks.” Another highlight of the show was “Colorado” from 2006’s Yellow House, a song that had bassist and multi-instrumentalist Chris Taylor layering radio static, flute, and clarinet over a rising crescendo that crashed like a wave over the crowd.
Grizzly Bear’s experimentation falls within the sonic parameters established by predecessors like Radiohead; the band arranges its material expertly without pushing too far outwards. Lacking Thom Yorke’s wild-eyed paranoia or the druggy bubbliness of Animal Collective, the overall feel of the show was less about newness than it was about revisiting and updating classic pop forms. That innovation seemed to wear the band out as it ended with an abbreviated version of “On A Neck, On A Spit” and did not play an encore, leaving the sweaty crowd to file out into the drizzling rain.
_jpg_595x1000_q85.jpg "Grizzly Bear")
Grizzly Bear
__jpg_595x1000_q85.jpg "Grizzly Bear")
Grizzly Bear
_jpg_595x1000_q85.jpg "Grizzly Bear")
Grizzly Bear
_jpg_595x1000_q85.jpg "Grizzly Bear")
Grizzly Bear
_jpg_595x1000_q85.jpg "Grizzly Bear")
Grizzly Bear
_jpg_595x1000_q85.jpg "Grizzly Bear")
Grizzly Bear
Grizzly Bear
Here We Go Magic
_jpg_595x1000_q85.jpg "Here We Go Magic")
Here We Go Magic
_jpg_595x1000_q85.jpg "Here We Go Magic")
Here We Go Magic
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