Spoon/Times New Viking at Skully's Music Diner in Columbus, OH

So if you're in Columbus and listen to CD101, chances are good that you knew about the Spoon show tonight. You probably also knew that it wasn't a show you could buy tickets to. That's because it was a Jack Daniels Studio No. 7 Intimate something or other, basically, a show that didn't have tickets for sale, at least on the open market. If, however, you were an enterprising blogger who got tipped off to a seller on Craigslist who had to unload her two tickets (Thanks, Linda!), you might have been able to buy tickets to this highly sought after show. And so it was that the GF and I were standing front row center at 9:30PM with two empty, plastic Jack Daniels cups in hand (the cocktails were godawful, but the cups were fun) when the opener, local band, Times New Viking took the stage.

TNV were great for their first song, pretty okay for their second, and crap for their third, fourth, etc. They were like a large Frosty from Wendy's; great for the first few spoonfuls, but any more than that and you start to get a little sick to your stomach. Their first song had a rock solid synth/guitar pairing, but eventually the repetitition grew monotonous, as song after song followed the same formula and included the same terrible vocals. The cromagnon drummer sat hunched over his tiny kit, perhaps hinting at countless shows played at sticky-floored clubs with unconventionally low ceilings. By the time the sound guy called an end to their already too-long set, the band clamored to play "just one more song." When they were shot down for the third time, they decided to be adults about it and pout their way through the teardown, tossing instruments and guitar bags around, stomping like a two year old's temper tantrum.

I have a feeling that if the original openers, Buffalo Killers, had been on the bill, the audience would most likely have been spared this juvenile hissy fit, so I'd like to postulate for a moment on how that opening act would have gone, so lets give it a quick try.

Cincinnati's Buffalo Killers opened the show with grizzled beards and freak rock guitar lines. The mountain man visages betrayed their LSD-dripping tunes, as they launched into several ten minute-plus guitar jams that rocked our faces with their garage-fuzz. When the final note dragged into infinity - a long low buzz with enough balls to vibrate our chests - the crowd merely stood in awed silence as the bass player set his guitar on the floor and turned his back on the still groaning instrument. It continued to warble it's discontent until the roadie came from stage right and killed it with a distracting pop as the cord was pulled.

After a few minor technical problems (and a humble apology from Britt to the GF), Spoon took the stage to the razor sharp stylings of "The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine." I was immediately struck by the energy and skill that Britt Daniel (and all the guys, for that matter) brought to the table. His feet didn't stop moving the entire show, pulling off moves that would have made pre-baby-touching Michael Jackson jealous. By the time the band launched into their third number, I was itching to dig into their back catalog and devour everything I could find. Every time they played a song that half the audience was singing along to (but of which I was blissfully ignorant), I just wanted to hear more from this band that had been together since the mid-nineties.

Songs like "The Beast and Dragon, Adored" gave a taste of the spitting, vitriolic temper of the tunes (literally, as the GF and I both received a bit of spittle from Mr. Daniel, we were both honored). The Spoon on stage had a swagger and a barfight confidence that was not easily swayed, with venom in the vocals, a defiant look, and feedback that was fueled by blood and bile. Songs like "The Way We Get By", which had Britt stalking around stage, gripping the mike with both hands as veins bulged out on his forearms; the same kind of intensity that I'd witnessed when I saw The Walkmen live last month. But where Hamilton Leithauser's vocals go from gentle to grating in a mere moment, Britt Daniel has a control at those painful timbres that Leithauser should be forced to learn. In their last number, a romping rendition of "My Mathematical Mind", Rob Pope and Eric Harvey (Bass and Piano, respectively) provided the rock solid foundation on which Daniel built his unique brand of Gehry-esque guitarchitecture, a warped, twisting solo with little rhyme or reason that I could discern, but with a fluidity that was captivating. It was a fine cap to a fine (if maybe a little bit illicit) evening.

Spoon Official Site
Spoon on Wikipedia
Times New Viking on MySpace
Buffalo Killers Official Site
Buy "Gimme Fiction" on Amazon.com

"The Two Sides of Monsieur Valentine" Spoon