I generally consider it a bad thing for musicians' performances to sound like their records. Why would I leave the house to see and hear something I already paid for when I bought the record, especially when there are so many witty pictures on the Internet that I could be looking at instead?
I like my concerts like I like my medical procedures: experimental. I want to see a band explore its material, fleshing out the synchronicities that lie hidden in the mix and adding dimensions to the songs that I like on record. I want obscure covers. I want improvisation. I want something more than what I already paid for (or illegally downloaded).
Les Savy Fav's show at The Middle East made me reevaluate these priorities. Though the Brooklyn band devoted their hour-long set to precise renditions of their reams of recorded material, I left knowing that I had seen both an elite live performance and a potentially legendary live band.
One of the reasons LSF can crush a live show while carbon-copying their material is that their material is so good. I don't like their second album, "Go Forth" (2001), but the rest of their four LPs play like greatest-hits compilations. When my town-painting companion leaned over to me midway through their set and informed me that LSF were only playing their "bangers" for the spoiled Boston crowd, I agreed before I realized that their entire catalog is made up of "bangers."
Then again, I don't think I'd say that the peculiarly abrasive LSF writes "bangers." At times, like during the dynamic "The Sweat Descends," Harrison Haynes' sharp rhythms brought to mind dancier bands like LCD Soundsystem, and watching Boston's hyper-hipsters wile out during this tune and other high-tempo numbers was definitely a highlight of the show (for the lulz). More often than ‘bang,' though, LSF's songs alternately stab and stomp in ways that, frankly, few other bands' music does.
Most of this stabbing-stomp mechanism comes from the mesmerizing guitar of Seth Jabour. With a crisp, saber-sharp tone completely of his own, he's one of the few guitarists that I know of who so clearly stands out despite almost never soloing. "Rome (Written Upside Down)," where Jabour cleanly breezes between precisely syncopated licks, displayed Jabour's penchant for subtly, ever-so-slightly dominating a song.
Alternately, during songs like "The Equestrian" and "Tragic Monsters," Jabour played rhythm guitar in his singular tone until the bridge, where he went off on finger-spraining fret board maneuvers that were somehow catchy. In addition to being a rousing live guitar player, I'd also rank him near the top of my underrated-guitarist list.
I think one of the reasons he goes relatively unnoticed — and the other reason LSF can kick ass live just by playing their songs well — is because he's in a band with Tim Harrington. ‘Charismatic frontman' does not begin to describe LSF's lead singer/jester, the wittiest (and bawdiest) between-song banterer around. Not only does his costume-changing, crowd-infiltrating energy wear off on the audience, but he has an absolutely incredible voice.
Part animal howl, part screed, he can make anything sound infuriating, or by channeling his female doppelganger on songs like "Patty Lee," maniacally sexual. His energy — primal, creative and genuine — is unlike anything else on stage anywhere.
Harrington's anima is what sets LSF apart as an elite live band. Nonetheless, it is crucial to remember that behind the bald, bearded man wearing a wedding dress and sweating profusely is an incredible band playing incredible songs — songs that I'd gladly pay to see and hear over and over again.
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Mikey Goralnik is a senior majoring in American history. He can be reached at Michael.Goralnik@tufts.edu
