An Ode to Erlend’s Glasses

It was through a very fortunate coincidence that I found out The Whitest Boy Alive (TWBA) was doing a couple of shows in March promoting their latest album, Rules (with some love for Dreams, 2006), at a rather unfortunate venue, a very well known (and infamous – Q.) Night Club in Mexico City most of us would love to erase from our collective memories!

It was the fourth time TWBA came to Mexico City. They are adored at this part of the world and they know it; I remember an interview where the four members stated they really loved Mexico, that it was interesting how Mexicans had this “particular taste” for Indie music and were quite surprised for having fans there. What Indie…?, ehm, anyway.

TWBA did two shows (13th and 14th March). The first one sold out in a week, the second sold out too, for the misfortune of our souls. I got tickets for the second and last show in Mexico scheduled at the moment. Euphoria was one of the feelings invading me after getting my tickets, now I had to wait only one week.

After surviving the horrific organization, a 3-hour wait standing on my achy feet, and experiencing what alcohol abuse can do to the audience, Technicolor Fabrics, the opening band, finally appeared on stage. They are a Mexican indie Band having quite a TWBA-ish music style (good rhythm and better vibes), hailing from Guadalajara, Mexico. How can anyone define TWBA’s style without thinking electronic music, retro, funky bass lines, and slightly jazzed drums?

I was five rows away from stage, however, I think I developed some telekinetic powers that moved me two people away from stage… maybe I flew, or maybe it was people shoving each other, taking almost all of my breath away! (Mean!). It is hard to enjoy a show when you got someone’s elbow in your stomach, and someone’s long hair tickling your eyes; I still want to blame it on the terrible, small venue and hideous logistics rather than the misunderstanding of what “personal space” is for the general public.

After 30 minutes, a big screen pretending to be a curtain lifted up. Everybody screaming in excitement and The Whitest Boy Alive made its appearance on stage: Erlend Øye (vocals & guitar), Marcin Öz (bass), Sebastian Maschat (drums) and Daniel Nentwing (synthesizers). People screaming, ears deafening, no words came from none of the members, only a scanning-type look Mr. Øye gave to the crowd.

The first song, after a brief “we’re The Whitest Boy Alive” from Erlend’s mouth, was ‘Keep a Secret’. Have you ever experienced what is jumping without even moving a muscle? Well, I did at that moment. I do not wish any of you to go through that! It really makes you wonder what have you done in your lifetime and why did you decide to come to this gig in the first place. Then ‘High on The Heels’ followed ( with me still moving mysteriously towards the stage without walking or moving), and then ‘Rules and Dreams’.

One element I have identified to know how talented a band can be is how many times the band does improv (or jams), and happily, this concert was full of it!  It was remarkable the way Mr. Öz (bass) improvises  the sound of a funk style, influenced by a mathematical soul. I have always agreed with the fact that Music is Mathematics in motion, and every piece of improvisation coming from the soul of this band was the confirmation of this principle. A certain shade of predictable riffs, then turn them around to express themselves, combined with excitement, pure talent.

I do have a handy list of highlights and questions about this show:

a) The Whitest Boy Alive covered Feist’s ‘Intuition’ and The Style Council’s ‘Promised Land’ (we love Paul Weller), the latter dedicated to a beloved friend who recently and untimely passed away.

b) How amazingly oversold and terribly organized the gig was. Staggering.

c)  How people were about to faint due to lack of air and excessive hot.

d) Whose genius idea was to include “VIP” areas in a gig, i.e., people sitting near the stage and drinking as if the world was about to end?

f) And last but not least, whose brilliant idea WAS TO STEAL ERLEND ØYE’S GLASSES?? This happened at the so-called “VIP Area”, on a balcony Erlend climbed for a while just at the gig’s climaxed, while improvising on Rules’ ‘1517’. Then some mysterious hands removed his glasses. So cheap! So mean! Mr. Øye, of course, stopped the concert until the audience gave his glasses back, which never happened and meant that the gig was finished. The rest of us had our chance to show our discontent and practice our meanest vocabulary out loud at that VIP section.

In the name of the rest of the audience who did not steal Mr. Øye’s glasses, we apologize for this embarrassing experience. There are no words or actions that can erase such unfortunate event from our mind. Even when the band has publicly apologized for ending the show so promptly, and swore they will come back to Mexico and that they still love their Mexican fans, there is no excuse for this travesty. This is how the band’s talent displayed can be ruined and entertainment can be dissipated, leaving the crowd with sour memories.

Tonan.

About the author: Tonan divides her time between eating mango sushi and breathing music. She also might be looking at LOLcats and stalking Orestes on her free time.

Photographs courtesy of Tonan (and her Chediva camera).