I have the Evens self-titled album on my iPod. I’ve listened to it exactly once. Don’t get me wrong; it’s very good, but there aren’t a lot of mellow, quiet records that i subject to repeat listens. Therefore, i didn’t expect to be blown out the door by their live performance at Milwaukee’s Todd Wehr Auditorium on Saturday night.
Ian and Amy took the stage and introduced themselves, charmingly asking if we had any questions before they started the show. The tone was set by their conversational demeanor, the pair of lamps bookending the stage, and the explanation after the opening “Shelter Two” that “We’re not going to get any louder than that, so if you want it to be louder, come closer. If you want to be warmer, come closer to the fire.”
And yet, for such a laid-back attitude, they attacked the songs with the same ferocity Ian tackled the Fugazi catalogue with back when he was screaming about the five corporations and not being what you own. Amy’s drumming was involved and intricate without being needlessly busy, and was enhanced by running the drum mics through an effects box to add reverb and delay. It was a clinic on how drums can be used in a much more musical context than simply establishing the rhythm. And Ian’s baritone added all the low end needed to flesh out the live sound.
Anyway. The performance was competent and solid; fine, good. That’s not what made the Evens’ set transcendent and magical. Like any other Ian MacKaye performance, a set by the Evens is a representation of the beliefs and ethics that the man has built his career–hell, his entire life–around. As he explained as he instructed the audience to sing along to the “The police will not be excused” breakdown of “Mt. Pleasant Isn’t,” tonight’s performance was a punk rock show in the way they believed punk rock shows were meant to exist–anywhere the band sets up, with no barriers between audience and band (which, Ian admitted, is a cliche’ at this point in the game, but let’s not forget that we’re dealing with one of the people who originated that concept, ok?). “And i think that often the audience is as responsible for that barrier as the band–they pay their money and they just want to sit back and be entertained. But they don’t engage. So let’s all sing along on this next one, ok?” And of course i sang along to the bridge of the song. Of course i yelled “The police will not be excused! The police will not behave!” Because dammit, no one is more earnest and more eloquent and more persuasive in convincing the audience that, yes, by singing together in this room we’re making some sort of difference in the world…than Ian Fricking MacKaye. The show was about punk rock as community, and the lamps, the group singing, the playful interaction with comment-yelping audience members…it all fed into the concept of the show performed by everyone in the room, not just the musicians.
Ironically, what really sold the idea of “punk show as communal exercise” was the Evens’ complete self-sufficiency in staging the performance–notably, by the lack of sound man due to their running their own PA through a modest setup they brought along for the tour. The mixing board was merely set up between guitarist and drummer, with Ian adjusting things as needed along the way. With no extra crew needed, it really did feel like we may as well be in Ian and Amy’s living room with them as they had band practice (which, Ian explained, was what they’d be doing had we the audience not showed up).
It was the sort of experience that bitter, old music cynics like myself couldn’t help but grin like doofy schoolkids during. Hell, even when Ian would go off on a trademark anti-government rant, i found myself thinking, “hell yes! Preach it! You’re so right!” This wasn’t some douchebag kid explaining how this next song was about Bush sucks. This was two charming, affable, supremely talented musicians from Washington, DC, the center of our nation’s government, saying, “we like to end the show on an uplifting note, because let’s remember, these guys will be out of office any day now. It’s true; in this country, even bad governments have an ending. Bad governments are like bad weather–they blow through and cause a lot of damage, but they eventually go away. And then we emerge from our homes and survey the damage, and then we get to work cleaning up and moving on. And that’s what we’re going to have to do. We’ve got a lot of work to do to clean up the horrible crimes these men have perpetrated, but we can do it!”
How can you not love that?
When you’re a crotchety old over-30 indie-rock grandpa, any performance that melts away the years and washes away the cynicism is cause for celebration. The Evens just made everyone in the room happy. Not thoroughly rocked, or entertained, or ass-kicked, just happy. The smiles on the faces of everyone in the room were proof enough of that. Thanks, Ian. Thanks, Amy. You reminded me again why punk rock is still meaningful in an age when most people think “punk rock” is nothing but three chords and tattoos.
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Comment by Christine — October 16, 2006 @ 7:53 pm
The bit about audience participation really interests me. I tend to hate it when bands ask the audience to do something without having a good reason for it, because otherwise it just brings back memories of chapel services at my elementary school. I think it’s awesome that Ian pointed out that the audience is part of the show, because it definitely is. On the other hand, I think he’s wrong to think that an audience won’t “engage” unless it’s explicitly requested of them. Some of the best shows I’ve been to have involved moments where people suddenly started singing along or dancing without being asked–there’s something really magical about that.