On a light-drenched stage, Colin Meloy looked every bit the descendent of the spirit that fueled his band's namesake.
Their moniker inspired by the revolution that occurred in Russia in December of 1825, Meloy and his band The Decemberists exude the whim and rebellion one would expect from an indie band, despite having made the jump to a major label for their most recent release, "The Crane Wife," which debuted last month.
Filled with quirky tales inspired by maritime lore, Japanese folk tales, and other literary avenues, The Decemberists are one of the most intelligent and eclectic bands around - and equally one of the most unusual.
As the band symbolizes on its first album, "Castaways and Cutouts" (2003), its music is the playground of the misfits and the excluded.
And yet that spirit may just represent the reawakening of this generation's conscience. A generation crippled by complacency, seemingly content with reliving our parents' generation's life, resigned to deride the problems of the world rather than fix them: these characteristics have marked much of our efforts. But voices like those of The Decemberists may yet stir a slumbering response and become this generation's rallying cry.
That cry came near the end of The Decemberists' sold-out concert at the Orpheum Theatre Saturday. As the band ended the night with "Sons and Daughters," the anthemic final song from the new album, Meloy paused and spoke to the crowd of the importance of the coming election today and for continued political activity.
Emboldening the crowd to sing together, the audience and band began to sing in unison the final refrain, "Hear all the bombs fade away." Leading the symphony of hopeful protest, the crowd's voice slowly grew, overwhelming even Meloy and his Decemberists on stage. It seemed like we'd been waiting a long time for this, for a fresh voice that doesn't simply mock or condemn, but inspires.
Protest music is nothing new; it's been around almost as long as history itself. In America, it has spanned from the American Revolution through the Civil War, to Woody Guthrie in the '40s and Bob Dylan in the '60s. Today, we live in a climate that should be rife with this sprit, and yet we're flooded with saccharine pop drivel and angry rock and rap that are quick to accuse and short on answers. The indie movement represents the best chance for thoughtful music, but too often, these bands are lost to their own pretentiousness and to fans more concerned with their favorite band's rarity than their message.
Bands like Belle and Sebastian, Wilco, The Long Winters, Sufjan Stevens and so many more have signaled the revived pulse of creativity and intelligence for this generation. Still, that one song has been missing, that one song an entire generation can grasp and call its own. Protest music has a restricted role to play in a society that has little to rage against, but with the presidency of George W. Bush, one would think bands would be lining up to pen this generation's "The Times They Are A-Changin'" or "Imagine." What we've gotten so far are explicitly anti-Bush songs from the likes of Bright Eyes and Neil Young, but no great unifying theme.
Perhaps in a time when protest occurs more on 'blogs than on the streets, and when our culture is so overloaded with the voices of anyone who wishes to speak that no one can clearly be heard, there never will be another Dylan or Lennon.
Or maybe we have The Decemberists, with the optimistic voice of Meloy and hopefully an entire generation finally rising above the din. Saturday, you could almost hear the bombs truly fading away.
Some would question whether the world of independent music, or any genre, is an appropriate place for politics. After all, music of all kinds is used as a way to escape the harsh realities of the earthly world, where issues like abortion, war and AIDS simply aren't important.
It is safe to say that at least some of The Decemberists' fans buy tickets to their shows to disappear into the fantastic world of onstage theatrics and Japanese folktales - not to be led in a chant, however affecting, about current affairs.
How many of the young people in attendance on Saturday night that were registered to vote planned on casting their ballot for Kerry Healey? It is unlikely that the 2 to 5 concertgoers that were going to vote Republican changed their minds because Colin Meloy said so. Even more importantly, how many apathetic non-voters reappraised their world view because they were led in chant?
Protest music isn't as transcendent as some would have it. Some of this country's most awful events, including the assassination of its most promising leaders and the escalation of one of its most brutal wars, occurred in the wake of "The Times They Are A-Changin'."
If even the most powerful of protest songs is powerless to change the world, do we think it will do any good for Colin Meloy to lead us in song? The history of political activism and music makes us believe it could.
Mikey Goralnik contributed to this article.
