SHE SAID: Finding Death Cab for Cutie was an accident. I only heard them a year ago as my lover drove me to work. Tzatziki ran through my fingers as I ate the best chicken souvlaki of my life-the first snowfall of the year, danced in the city lights, and all the while DC’s “Photo Booth” was blasting in the car. From that moment on I was hooked. Their show at the Opera House last Thursday was stellar. Really. I couldn’t see a damn thing, but it was still great. As Death Cab set up their instruments, the crowd just stood there watching them. The eerily stillness and silence was really unexpected. They contrasted so dramatically with the energetic, catchy music and beautiful lyrics of Death Cab’s four albums. But the crowd’s electric expectancy for the first musical note to ripple through the venue was a perfect prelude to the performance that matched Death Cab’s recorded brilliance.
It was worth the wait. Frontman Ben Gibbard owned the stage. For a rocker he was pretty humble, thanking the audience after every single song. He even told us that he took “Phone Booth” off the setlist in Detroit just because someone yelled, “Play ‘Phone Booth!'” too rudely. Ben obviously likes to play nice-and he did-but his band paid the price by being too unnoticeable. Guitarist Chris Walla tried to warm up the crowd a bit, but people just weren’t listening. Even when the bassist and drummer were rocking out, Ben still owned the stage. The band only served as backup to Gibbard’s genius.-KD
HE SAID: Apparently a lot of people came to the show just to see the opening bands because a bunch of people left before Death Cab even started playing. Okay, their last album, Transatlanticism, was a bit of a letdown compared to their previous offerings, but come on people, how can you not love Ben Gibbard?
Following his recent Postal Service sideproject and regular Death Cab releases, Ben Gibbard has solidified himself as the man with the indie-pop melodies that can’t miss. Which makes me wonder: why is it that at every Death Cab show I go to, his vocals get buried in the mix so low that I actually find myself straining to hear his beautiful voice?
Despite the vocals, though, Death Cab put on an impressive show, with solid material from all of their previous albums. As evidenced by a button-down shirt that became progressively more and more soaked with sweat, as well as a whole roll of blurry photos, Gibbard was really rocking out.
The show ended with an extended medley consisting of “Blacking Out The Friction” melting perfectly into a cover of Bjork’s “All Is Full Of Love” straight into a song that left most people scratching their heads but that I later found out was a cover of Billy Bragg’s “St. Swithin’s Day”. Seconds before the end of the show, a girl fainted near the front of the stage, presumably from the sweaty heat that the Opera House is known for. In the ensuing confusion of her friends trying to carry her WWI-style to some fresh air, Death Cab hit their last note and Ben was gone.-ND
