The sunlight coming in through the windows near the top of Fine Line’s brick walls at a show was even more disorientating as the bright sun of a chilly April day. Within the venue’s space, the crowd mixed. Other than the usual people in attendance, the all-ages, early show had attracted a large number of kids, even some very young ones with parents, making the most of a break, even if the weather wasn't ready to provide much of a spring. The convergence created an unusual ambiance for a rock concert, but, in a way, the eclectic lineup of Mute Math with supporting bands Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin and The Cinematics mirrored the disparity.
As the first opening band, The Cinematics, coming from Glasgow, Scotland, a city that imports more quality bands per capita than just about anywhere else, carried both the potential burden and opportunity of that reputation. A friend had been championing them to me for a while so I was further intrigued to see their live show. Their chic look matched the cool of their post-punk influenced sound, but its layered with lead singer/guitarist Scott Rinning’s distinctive, somber-tinged vocals. Although apologizing the crowd for illness affecting his voice, for the audience, it didn’t take away from bringing the band’s set to life. As a guy near the front answered back: “you sound good, man!” At 100 percent or not, I agreed; Rinning, and the rest of the band, sounded good as they played selections from their debut album A Strange Education. Standouts songs included “Maybe Someday” and “Break.”
Following the stylish Cinematics accentuated Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin’s nerdiness, but in a way that complemented the Springfield, Missouri band’s own style of quirky indie pop-rock. The quirks didn't stop at the music. A flannel-shirted, bespectacled lead singer John Robert Cardwell dedicated a song to Kurt Cobain, and later, one to Minnesota Twins’ centerfielder Torii Hunter because “he seems really friendly.” Little intangibles helped prove SSLYBY worthy of the Internet buzz that had propelled their song “Oregon Girl” to be featured on the O.C. last spring even before they signed to a label.
Silly stage banter, a harmonic, and a lo-fi sound that recalled an early Weezer: it was all appealing stuff. Still, I was definitely not expecting to fall for SSLYBY as hard as I did. Literally. Midway through their set, I started feeling light-headed. (Just for the record, the lack of hydration arose from not getting enough fluids rather than drinking too many of the alcoholic variety. ) I made my way over to the side bar to order a diet Coke. Nevertheless, all too quickly, I ended up fainting, as the next thing I realized was lying on the floor. Thanks to friends, staff, and others doing nothing to dispel those Minnesota nice stereotypes, I was up again faster than you can say “Someone still loves you, Boris Yeltsin.” I nursed my scraped cheek, bruised ego, and some water while watching SSLYBY seated on a stool. Fainting was a surreal experience, and I don't necessarily recommend it, but it also presented too many bad pun opportunities not to relate.
Mute Math’s added to final piece to the night’s patchwork quilt of bands. The patch most likely to represent Mute Math in a quilt: a keytar. Among the quartet their was a lot of instrumentation going on from the usual guitar, bass, drums to, depending on the song, a double bass, a synth, a Rhoades piano, a large bass drum, the aforementioned keytar, and an unidentified shiny-metal thing of some kind. Overall their sound defied neat categorization as each of their songs showed some different influences. Along with a dramatic light show set up, the whole thing made for a dramatic stage show. To Mute Math’s credit, although relatively under-the-radar, they’ve amassed a dedicated fan base. Case in point, in an untypical choice for American Idol, contestant Chris Sligh, the Jack Osbourne look-alike, performed their song “Typical” this spring. The fan contingent in Minneapolis showed their enthusiasm. Near the front of the stage, the crowd was frenzied; they reached out to Paul Meany, lead vocals/keyboard/keytar, when he got within reach. It even to the point of testing the venue’s security with a few instances of crowd-surfing. (Needless to say, I didn’t take part, I wanted to limit myself to one instance per night of falling to the floor.) In the end, it was entertaining, but it also became dangerously close to schtick; a keytar is simply very difficult to take seriously.
