“Stay Away from Pete Doherty” (Art Brut, Mercury Lounge)

They say you should never meet your heroes.

Take Art Brut, for instance.  I’m not one who likes to hear the same jokes over and again, but the band’s Bang Bang Rock & Roll has stayed in fairly regular rotation ever since I got it back in June.  The Brit band seems to be serving up as straight snark-punk (“They’re the Dead Milkmen!” I squealed upon first listen, clutching the disc to my chest – and hey, I’m still trying to figure out where my Bucky Fellini tape got to...), lead “singer” Eddie Argos narrating through his nose, spewing spitballs at the slick and the popular.  Despite a bevy of bon mots, it should get tiresome.  It hasn’t.  Impressive.  But...

Their live show was a huge question mark:  I pictured Argos – okay, I actually pictured Steve Coogan – Rex Harrisoning along with a batch of hired hands.  He would sigh, ironically, as he talked to, not with, the animals. 

Well, I needn’t have worried.

While it turns out Argos does look a little like Coogan (well, Coogan with a pencil moustache and a bit of a gut), he refuses to not be involved.  And whaddaya know:  Art Brut’s not a snark-punk outfit.  When he offs, "This is not irony!" it's not sarcasm, either.  Argos means what he says.  He just happens to take his sense of humor very seriously.  The music’s more than just funny, the songs are good, the band believes in more than swordfish.

The guitar players are adorable:  Ian Catskilkin looks like he just came out of the dryer; newcomer Jasper (he wore a clip-on tie with his T-shirt; some girl behind me said, very seriously, “That’s very punk”) is a fragile pale thing who loses his tough-guy sneer whenever Argos cracks a funny.  Bassist Frederica Feedback is, of all things, sort of shy.  Drummer Mikey B plays the entire set standing up.

And they can play, too.  The band ripped into “Back in Black” while Argos took the stage, but the joke stopped when the first number started.  Sure, the singer took credit for peace in the Middle East (and promised to bring it to South Asia, next), but “Formed a Band” was put forward not as a self-aware bit of chest-pounding, but as a sing-along.  Later in the night, Argos would go on an amiable mid-song tirade:  “I’ve got a great memory for faces, and I’m coming back to Manhattan.  I’m going to wander the streets, going to find every last one of you.  I will ask you all this question:  ‘Are you in a band?’  And if you answer ‘No,’ I’m going to be VERY DISAPPOINTED.”

It’s the old you-can-do this-too here’s-three-chords spirit, and its presence shows that Art Brut  – whose music, beyond Argos’ bark, plays at post-punk and proper pop (“Good Weekend” is “Cool Jerk,” fer chrissake) – not only has a heart, but one that beats pure punk.

It was a short set, about fifty minutes, which was fine.  Two songs from Bang – “Fight” and “Stand Down” – didn’t make the list.  Lyrics got shifted around a bit.  “L.A.’s” best line, “I’m drinking Hennessey!  With Morrissey!” was complemented by “I’m having Sherry with Bryan Ferry.”  Gang of Four retreads got teased along with their VU counterparts in “Bang Bang.”  “Bad Weekend” gave a nod to TRL as well as Top of the Pops.  There were three new songs:  “Edible Underpants” (?) (“the one about Britpop,” Argos explained to his new guitarist), “Blame it on the Trains,” about playing hooky from work, and a great rocker about wanting to be on a Level 3 (?) German football team.  They claimed to have written that last one on the flight over.  "The words aren't finished yet," said Argos, "That's why all three verses are essentially the same thing, repeated."

Argos, despite his vocal limitations, is a very engaging frontman.  He has exactly three power moves:  He’ll kick out his right leg, he’ll bend over, he’ll roll back Joe Cocker-style.  During “Moving to L.A.,” he froze into a statue between verses, pointing (towards Canada, actually, but never mind...); during a raucous version of “Modern Art,” he jumped into the Merc’s meager mosh pit, handed the mic off to an audience member, and rocked out to the back of the room.

But better than stunts and poses, he tried to make an honest connection.  He introduced “Rusted Guns of Milan” with “Let’s tell the truth about my early sexual experiences.” There was genuine concern behind “My Little Brother’s” mix-tape message:  “Why don’t our parents worry about us?”  Most importantly, there was a real love of and hope for new music. 

“Formed a Band,” by the way, very un-ironically ended by dipping into “Roadrunner.”

“I’m in love with rock and roll.”  My hero.

*

Thank goodness for the drunk, diminutive audience member with a mohawk.  From the start of the show, he was pretty much the source of all crowd movement.  The band should adopt him.  Otherwise folks are liable to think it’s okay to stand around and be amused.

“We’re not offended if you dance,” Argos offered.

*

The folks at Brut’s Northsix show tomorrow get British post-punk headbangers Test Icicles as their opener; we had to suffer while local psychedelics Psychic Ills had a go at Saucer-era Floyd stuff. 

The lead singer/guitarist had no vocal presence, and knew it; he preferred to spend his time, back to the crowd, playing with feedback.  The rhythm section was as loose and sloppy as the gunny sack the bassist seemed to be wearing.  The drums were aggressively inconsistent, the bass lines always a bit ahead.  The only thing more arrhythmic were the two enthusiastic fans dancing by the stage.  The combination of the three had me yearning for Dramamine.

*

Brooklyn Vegan has pics, as does Kathryn Yu, as does Sound Bites.

Extrawack, from the band’s Wednesday night show at Maxwell’s (w/pics).

One Louder is going to all four area shows:  Here’s Maxwell’s, Mercury Lounge, and Northsix.

...and BV from the Tribeca Grand.

tags: concert reviews  art brut  

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