Live Review | Interpol @ Sonar, Baltimore, MD 03.24.05

It was a miserable, rainy early-spring evening in Baltimore. The weather in Charm City is predictably unpredictable, no matter the season. As the work whistle blew for construction workers at city hall, they stopped tearing away the park the city’s chess players once worked their minds. As the grinding of the machinery came to a halt, the sound of diesel busses rumbled into ear range. Circling the corner to the city’s premier underground establishments, the busses stopped and Carlos D., Daniel Kessler, Paul Banks and Sam Fogarino emerged one at a time from the folded doors to the street. Each adjusted their sunglasses before removing them entirely, as the overcast Baltimore sky wasn’t harsh to their nocturnal eyes. As Fogarino walked to the steps of the bus, squinting his eyes, he waves to the dozen or so fans waiting nearly six hours before for the show and flashes a smile, less one tooth.

The appearance of Interpol in Baltimore was unexpected considering the lack of larger-scale club venues in the city to accommodate their itinerary. The fact that they were playing at the underground culture warehouse Sonar was downright shocking. The venue was making some rumblings for opening their doors to popular electronic and D.J. acts like Crystal Method and L.T.J. Bukem, but to have these praised perpetrators of indie rock was a staggering leap forward for an institution destined to expand into new things.

As the crowd packs tighter towards the chipped paint on the stage barrier, ventilation gets worse and worse. Fresh air becomes a luxury in the front rows, where the chain smoke ultimately filters like a gas chamber. Just as fire codes snap in two and the smell of vomit begins to permeate, the lights come down. A collective 10 feet appears from the crowd’s excited gasps. The visibility is so bad that only the ivory silhouettes of the group stand out from the floating grey. The band seamlessly melds into their instrumental roles, arriving on stage to the organ of Antics’ opener “Next Exit”. The intro fades into the note-pairing guitar work from Kessler and Banks, who’s dry vocals haunt every listener. The complex, anxious drumming of Fogarino mesmerizes and by the time the group evolves into “Untitled”, he and Carlos are having their way with everyone’s attention.

Carlos D. is a sight in person – appearing over 6 feet tall on stage, with stage attire stolen from the Madison Ave. chapter of the brown shirts, he dances and writhes with his own bass rhythms, sometimes leading songs more than his counterparts. He is never contrived and never anything but artistic, like a rejected design from the Warhol Factory, digging in his renaissance decades after conception. Fogarino may be the best jazz drummer in indie rock – he works like a Swiss watch, as intricate as modern instrumentalization gets on stage. Every nuance is necessary to the song, impossible to imitators and elementary in his hands.

“Slow Hands” comes in with a rapturous attack and the crowd lifts with it’s multiple ascensions, coming down twice as hard upon each delivery. Every repetition causes a greater surge of the crowd. “Obstacle 1” keeps the pulse moving quickly, swaying with an angular twitch from Carlos that jerks necks from side to side. The effortless blending of songs from both Turn on the Bright Lights (including a suffocatingly urgent performance of “P.D.A.”, “Say Hello to the Angels”) and Antics (“Public Pervert”, “Length of Love”). The entire band is in peak form for this show, which is later judged among insiders and fans alike as one of the tours’ best. Banks agreed calling the assembly a “fucking bad ass crowd” before departing after the first set closer “N.Y.C.”

The appearance of the rarely performed “C’Mere” made the show all the more memorable and proved the impression left by the crowd on the band. The power of Interpol performances are mutual, with the crowd’s euphoria turning the band on like a switch and generating a greater reaction from the crowd. The song carried the vital, unrelenting sound into the bouncing bridge and pre-chorus again building the crowds excitement until choking them on their own bliss. A euphoric version of “Roland” nearly sends the crowd into joyous turmoil as Kessler choked the riffs from his Epiphone, shaking it into the flight-of-steps-falling chorus, finally calming slightly with “Stella Was a Diver and She Was Always Down”
Interpol showed their teeth at every turn during their performance, coming to the verge of animalistic explosion but staying slightly subdued. The best characteristic of the music is their restraint – their ability to light a fuse, let it get within inches of the powder keg before extinguishing it and lighting a new one somewhere else. Tonight, the fuse came closer than ever as nearly Baltimore burned inside-out by one the most cherished live bands in the world today.

Interpol's Official Website www.interpolny.com
Matador Records Site vww.matador.com

Reviewed for Earlash Music Sight www.earlash.com