It gives me a warm, happy feeling inside to see headlining bands in the audience during opening acts. It shows me that they genuinely care about music and are probably nice people.

The members of Los Campesinos! not only watched both of their opening bands, but stood in the front, cheering and sometimes even singing along. In this way, Los Campesinos! forever endeared themselves to me before they even started playing.

Aleks (lead vocals/keyboard/melody horn), Ellen (bass/vocals), Gareth (lead vocals/glockenspiel/keyboard), Harriet (violin/keyboard/vocals), Neil (guitar/vocals), Ollie (drums/vocals), and Tom (guitar/vocals) Campesinos! (their adopted last name) met at Cardiff University. They have since graduated college (all but Aleks, who had to take a leave from medical school). Their debut album, Hold On Now, Youngster, was released in the U.S. on April 1 of this year. The band played at the Bowery Ballroom on Monday, May 19, for its fifth stop on its U.S. and Canada tour, continuing until the middle of June.

The first band, Flying, a trio from Brooklyn, did little for me, especially vocally. The three alternated on vocals and while a good voice is obviously not a requirement in rock ‘n’ roll, they did not make up for it with style, conviction, or stage presence, the way the other two bands did. They just sounded very shy and awkward and it was a little uncomfortable to watch. I’d like to give them the benefit of the doubt and say that they were probably nervous and maybe will get better as they become more comfortable around an audience.

The Jersey-based Titus Andronicus gets points for being named after an underrated Shakespeare play. I probably wouldn’t listen to this band at home–the music was a little too repetitive and, well, loud for my taste–but their energy was a relief after the previous set. There was a large group of friends or fans (I couldn’t tell which) in the audience who already knew the lyrics. During the band’s self-titled song, the lyrics evolved into an outcry of, “Your life is over.” There was something both disturbing and gratifying about a room full of people repeating this as lead singer Patrick Stickles jumped off an amp and mimed pointing a gun to his head. The power of rock does have a way of bringing people together.

This proved to be true during the final set by the band that made me allow the exclamation point as an acceptable form of punctuation. It was a good size crowd for a Monday night, maybe sold out, but I’m not sure. Everybody was cheerful and dancing (then again, how can you not dance to Los Campesinos!), and the crowd was one of the most polite I have ever witnessed. Everyone gave each other room and I saw no pushing or shoving. At one point, someone actually apologized for accidentally bumping into me.

Starting with the hyperactive screams of “One, two, three, four!” of “Broken Heartbeats Sound Like Breakbeats,” the band launched into a set as joyous as the album. One of the best things about seeing a band with only one album is that they are pretty much gauranteed to play the song that you’ve been listening to on repeat all week (for me, that song was “We Are All Accelerated Readers”).

We are All Accelerated Readers

I barely noticed the issues with Gareth’s mic, or mics (at one point he was using two). The band members are all between the ages of 21 and 23 and their songs have a juvenile ADHD-like quality, yet there is a sophistication in the clever lyrics and arrangements. The band was as interesting to watch as to listen to, especially Gareth, who looked like a little boy (no disrespect intended) with his horse shirt and charade-like hand motions. In any case, they were having fun with each other (I’m pretty sure Gareth licked Neil at one point) and the audience.

They closed appropriately with “Sweet Dreams Sweet Cheeks” (not to sound old, but at close to midnight, it was past my bedtime) before coming back for an encore, “2007, The Year Punk Rock Broke (My Heart).” In 2008, though, punk rock shouldn’t break the hearts of anyone listening to Los Campesinos!

*I did not take this picture…and I love her rabbit too.

Aside from her creepy video about clown love, (it’s probably the only song you know from her. It’s “The Way I Am”) I didn’t know much about Ingrid Michaelson and, to be honest, the girlfriend and I were going to see Ari Hest (NYC singer/songwriter who’s in the middle of a project called “52″ where he writes one song a week for a year).

So I was ill-equipped with information and assumed I was going to see a piano-driven show filled with songs about love. Like every experience i have in my life, I found I was totally wrong.

From the onset, Michaelson approached the mic on stage as her own personal therapist, talking about past relationships, her problems with drooling on planes and even testing out the various sounds on her keyboard that turned into an impromptu sing-a-long of Richard Marx’s “Right Here Waiting” (it’s true…you totally had to be there…oh wait, now you can).

When she wasn’t crooning along on stage, she was entertaining the audience with her personality and talking about her secret hobby of searching Youtube for fan videos of her songs.

So not only is the “Grid” a pretty girl with glasses, but she’s hilarious…making her my new music crush (for those who are keeping up, my previous one was with the girl in the Office…the band not the show).

This is the third time I’ve been surprised at a musician’s stage presence, straddling that line between singer and stand-up comedian. In Ingrid’s case (or her hip-hop name which she revealed was “Grid”) this worked in her favor.

Piano-driven songs are nice, but I can’t listen to it for an entire evening without wanting to nap. In Grid’s case, it was great to have these songs coupled with hilarious stories about her life, like this one about the time she fell asleep on a plane.

Drooling Story

I know. It’s hilarious and I want to give her a hug. The last time I experienced what Grid called “frivolous frivolity” at a concert was at Tegan & Sara, who have elevated the act of bantering with the audience to an art form.

Ingrid admitted that it was a strange night for her and that she was talking about things she normally doesn’t (like her ex-boyfriend). It’ s funny what a little comedy and audience interaction can do for a singer. And in Grid’s case, makes her stick out in a world that seems to be constantly churning out female singer-songwriters who write emotional ballads for Grey’s Anatomy.

Before, she was just another female singer/songwriter that seemed to be jumping on the I-wear-glasses bandwagon, but now whenever I hear her songs, all I remember is the comedy and laughing about her silliness. Maybe the future of albums should be adding little personality bits from the artist. Kind of like the skits on hip-hop albums, only funnier. Eh maybe not.

The girlfriend enjoyed her, even though it was past her bedtime (she’s a teacher) and, like me, only knew one song. Now we listen to album all the time and wonder if she’s still drooling on herself on airplanes (seriously, listen to that track. It’s a hilarious).

For now, I’ll leave you with the funniest moment of the night. It happened right after she sang “The Chain,” a song only available on her Myspace page.

(and hey, someone took video of it. I was told to put my camera away, mostly because the ushers at Berklee let people in the front section do whatever they want).

There’s a lyric in there that has her go “Glide away on soapy heels” and apparently people on Youtube have been covering it, but saying “Glide away and so be healed” (I think this is the video she was talking about).

Ingrid thought it was hilarious and, with one of her band members, did a song with the new lyrics in an epic, religious sort of way. After that, she went into a remix version of her hit “The Way I Am.” Again, both worth your time.

“The Chain” discussion and intro to “The Way I Am”

The Live Remix of “The Way I Am”

Ingrid Michaelson, I don’t care that you had creepy clowns in your video…I think I love you.

I’m a total Harry Potter nerd. I’m talking dressing up for midnight book parties kind of nerd. I was an English major in college, so I’m pretty much a nerd for literature in general. And since I write for this site, I obviously love live music. So, seeing a band sing about Harry Potter in a building full of books on a Saturday night is my idea of a good time. Add in the fact that it was free (did I mention I’m cheap too?) and there was no way I was going to miss this.

Boston-based Harry and the Potters are two brothers, Paul and Joe DeGeorge, who write all their songs from the point of view of Harry Potter. Paul represents the seventh year Harry, and Joe represents the fourth year Harry (although I never quite understood this because they both sing songs representing Harry from other years at Hogwarts).

The band is considered the frontrunners of the Wizard Rock movement. They mostly play in libraries, but this was their first time playing at the New York Public Library and they kept calling it a dream come true.

I wish more bands would hold concerts in libraries. Everything seemed so efficient. Tickets were handed out the day before so as not to go over the 500 capacity limit. On Saturday night, since the library was already closed, a line of mostly excited tweenage girls formed outside (I think I was the oldest person there who was not a parent). When they opened the doors, everyone went inside in an orderly fashion and staked out their spots, but there was plenty of room to roam around. I was surprised at how few people were dressed up. Some were wearing Gryffindor ties or Harry Potter related tees (full disclosure: I myself was wearing my homemade “Real Men Play Quidditch” shirt), but very few people were decked out in full Gryffindor gear. Although after everyone had a chance to visit the merch table, I turned around to notice a sea of green “Save Ginny” shirts.

The excitement in the room was infectious when Harry and the Potters bounced onstage in their trademark grey sweaters, white collared shirts, Gryffindor ties, and of course, glasses. They passed out foam fingers, but unfortunately there weren’t enough to go around, and two little boys might have killed each other for one had their parents not intervened. I’ve heard Harry and the Potters CDs before and while I’ve enjoyed their songs, they are not great musicians or singers.

Their songs are simplistic and repetitive. But they do know how to put on a great show. They had lots of energy, frequently jumping into the audience and pumping up the crowd with speeches about the power of love and rock. Towards the beginning of the show, they taught the audience a dance to a song with the lyrics, “Hagrid is fun to hug. Hagrid is full of love. Just don’t pull on Hagrid’s beard.” At various intervals throughout the show, they would go into the song. The first time, some were hesitant, but each time, more and more people would join in the silly dance. At one point in the concert, the drummer, known as “Bill Weasley” got offended that the Harrys called his brother Ron a weasle during the song “The Weasle.” He left and was replaced by a man dressed as a squid (I don’t know what that had to do with Harry Potter), but then they reconciled and Bill rejoined the band.

Inspired by being in the library shown in Ghostbusters, during “The Human Hosepipe,” they segued into the Ghostbusters theme (replacing, of course, the word “ghostbusters” with “Harry Potter”). They played crowdpleasers like “Save Ginny Weasley” and my personal favorite, which they said they don’t play often, “(not gonna put on) the Monkey Suit,” a song about sticking it to the man. For the final songs, the band was joined by the Dumbledore Army’s horn section, adding a more professional level of musicality to the evening. The concert seemed to end much too song, but all in all, it was an hour and a half well spent.

Just as there seems to be an age battle going on in the democratic primary (Clinton’s elderly to Obama’s youth), a similar psychological war was waged last week at the Jimmy Eat World concert, namely between JEW fans and the teenagers who came to see Paramore, a punkish pop, female-fronted band from Tennessee.

It was interesting to see the stark difference between the two groups. Paramore: 80s fashion (think bright colors and strange outfits) coupled with punkish attitudes (I add the “ish” since the real punks are probably in a ditch somewhere).

With Jimmy Eat World, it was more a laid-back group. The girls had those trendy eyeglasses on (is it me or does it seem like everyone has those same ones?), the guys had hooded sweatshirts on. Some were so laid-back that towards the “late” hour of 10pm, they were double fisting cups of Pepsi.

My girl and I were somewhere in the middle. We were more Jimmy fans, but weren’t scared of “the youths” (some people were huddled together in the corner of the arena, as if to hide from the teenager frenzy on the floor).

We were content with mocking Paramore fans and wondering why 80s fashion came back (though in the end we applauded the intensity and started to mock the Jimmy Eat World fans who were “too cool”).

After Paramore, the sweaty teenagers departed from the main area (some left all together, to the obvious joy of their adult chaperones. The rest went to the first tier of the arena to hit the bathroom, buy a shirt, or rub their sweat all over the wall.

I felt bad for the people who thought it was ridiculous and scoffed at some of the teens emerging with no shirt or a missing shoe. If you can’t appreciate that, then you were never in the pit as a kid and missed out.

As for Jimmy, I came to this show as a strange sort of homecoming. I spent five years of my life in Arizona (JEW is from Mesa, AZ) and have always felt a strange kinship with their music. I know how easy it is to “fall in love tonight” after a drunken experience at the bar on “9th and Ash” (it’s Casey Moore’s).

And when I finally left the state a year ago, their song “My Sundown” was one of the first to play on my iPod before the cross-country trip (it had the appropriate lyric “I’ve said my goodbyes/ This is my sundown/ I’m gonna be so much more than this…”)

So it was great to see the band again (this was my…third time? I was really drunk during one of those shows) and, as shows go, they put on a pretty tight set. Almost too tight.

Aside from the perfunctory (though no less appreciative) thanks, Jim Adkins and company didn’t do much expounding to the crowd or even divulge any strange road stories.

It was as if JEW knew that some people left after Paramore or that maybe they felt upstaged by the middle band in the lineup of three. Or maybe the road was getting to them. Either way, it felt quick and even the encore lacked drama. They left with a green light shining on the audience. They returned less than a minute later, so it was more like a water/beer/pee/puke/eat break behind stage.

If they did feel rushed, it’s interesting that, even deep into their career, Jimmy Eat World is still that band no one bets on, that people continue to push aside and that hipsters don’t give a second thought.

At the end of the show, the two factions of fans departed ways. The teenagers, sweaty and some with torn clothes, all exclaimed that this was “the craziest concert” they had ever been to and started recapping the “insane” moments to each other. Somebody yelled back at the jerk in the front row. Someone got puked on. Someone’s ears were still ringing.

I couldn’t help but smile and remember the times I would leave concerts, high off the experience, and feeling like I just witnessed something important. Times are a-changin indeed…

I thought I made a mistake. I was surrounded by women. Hot women dressed in tight jeans and knee-high heel boots, all achingly awaiting for the Australian wonder twins that make up The Kin to hit the stage. Already, I felt completely out of my element.

Initially, I was drawn to the show because of the band’s commitment to charity:water, an organization dedicated to building clean water wells in places like Africa. The Kin’s specific well was for a community in Kenya, and was to cost $35,000.

During their shows, they sell $20 bottles of water with all of the money going to the charity. According to the charity:water, $20 can give one person safe water for 20 years.

So, since I made a New Year’s resolution to stop being a dick, I bought one (though there’s something weird about drinking water from a charity that aims to bring water to people who don’t have it).

Still, after seeing the twins come up on stage, I was tempted to leave and not witness all the eye-fucking that was going on between the patrons and the group.

Then something happened. The brothers left the stage and pulled their charm onto the main floor, asking the crowd to form a circle around them. They performed a couple of songs, one of which was the political “Abraham.” It started with someone yelling for the rest of the bar to “shut up!”

The Kin - Abraham (live at TT the Bears)

For a moment, the wall between audience and performer was broken and suddenly we were all drunken friends, singing along with these two Aussies as if it were a house party and someone had found a guitar in the corner. The Kin performed in the dark, away from the spotlight, mics, and speakers of the stage.

It got to the point the everyone in the circle began singing the chorus towards the end.

After a couple more songs, the boys returned to the stage where the eye-fucking got completely out of control, with the women crowding towards the front (there were even some dudes there).

But the impromptu and intimate performance in the midst of the audience was enough to convince me that this was a group to see more of. They played most of their songs from last year’s “Rise and Fall,” and promised a new album was coming this summer.

Sure, this is a group that makes music ripe for those “emotional” moments on television dramas, but there was something inspiring about breaking down that wall, bringing the concert experience to the audience and bringing music fans together as one rowdy bunch in the middle of dive bar.

It ended as most good parties do, with another sing-a-long, this time to Prince’s “When Doves Cry,” with the brothers again in the middle of an audience-made circle.

An open note to the opening band…

Girl in a Coma,

I showed up late to your set and caught, I think, the last two songs. My bad. I’m usually better at getting to t places on time but, well, it was a Wednesday night and, at the time, I was more interested in running back home to play Call of Duty 3 to beat the shit out of some Germans in World War II.

But I got into your set. And it wasn’t because i enjoy all-girl groups that rawk or the fact that I was in the mood to hear something loud and primal. It was the way your lead singer’s eyes seemed to almost pop out of her skull. That was truly engaging and I had to inch closer to the stage to see if it would happen.

And even though it didn’t, it was fun to watch and see some of the male members of the audience cower in the back.

So thanks Girl in a Coma. You got me in the mood to break things. Bless you.

I went out to the State Theatre last Sunday to see Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. I’ve been a fan of the band since 2005’s Howl. That album was filled with acoustic blues-stompers and earthy Americana. It was a departure for a band that built its reputation on heavily overdriven garage rock, but that record’s sound is the standard by which I’ve measured the band since it was the first I heard.

Therein lies the problem.

The California band, named after Marlon Brando’s motorcycle gang in 1953 flick The Wild One, built a reputation as a psychedelic garage-blues band with its first two albums. The most recent, Baby 81, was a return to this form. BRMC was at its best with Howl, but Baby 81 proved that record wasn’t representative of the actual character of the band. I came in to the show with unreasonable expectations, and as a result I was a little disappointed.

Londoners The Duke Spirit opened the show. Bleach-blonde singer Leila Moss noticeably evoked Sonic Youth’s Kim Gordon, wailing over walls of guitar. With her blonde locks, cute British accent and bluesily raspy croon, she exuded sex appeal no American Idol-produced pop tart could ever hope to match. In retrospect, the Spirit might actually have been the better band to take the stage this evening, and they left me in high spirits despite the general apathy of the audience.

At one point, Moss practically begged the audience to move around, asking, “How are those seats? Comfortable?” Unfortunately, the State Theatre is ill suited to the kind of audience involvement that befits this band. Even so, the Spirit turned in a fun and respectable performance.

BRMC didn’t take the stage for more than an hour after the opening act finished. The crowd grew progressively more restless, cheering when a song with the opening lyrics “I’m getting tired of waiting” came on the PA.

An explosion of strobe lights engulfed the theater when the band finally took the smoke-shrouded stage. The lights were pointed toward the audience, which proved to be immensely distracting throughout the show. At times, it felt as if the audience was under attack from the stage. My notes include such choice phrases as:

• “Never point strobes at the audience. Thanks.”
• “More strobes… having trouble seeing to write this”

and

• “Punctuated by the strobes from hell”

I can’t be completely sure anyone else feels so strongly about strobe lights, but it sure as hell put me in a crappy mood and seriously infringed on my enjoyment of the music. I digress.

Guitarist Peter Hayes and bassist Robert Levon Been split the vocal duties, with Nick Jago on drums. Hayes’ deep, smooth voice balanced well with Been’s more nasal delivery. The set list included several cuts from Howl.

Unfortunately, the band played both of that album’s two best songs, “Shuffle Your Feet” and “Ain’t No Easy Way,” near the beginning of the set. Both of these were harmonic and acoustic guitar-driven blues stomps, while the rest of the songs in the set were enjoyable psychedelic rockers played with earnest intensity.

The transitions between acoustic and electric numbers were a little jarring. Because the State Theatre is a venue better suited for the former, an all-acoustic performance from the band would probably have been more desirable.

The rest of the people in attendance didn’t seem to mind the strobes and the odd order of the set list. After the first number, Hayes thanked the audience for its support. The man a few seats down from me took to howling “Thank you!” at the band following every song. Though he was genuinely thanking the band for making a stop in State College, I had never before heard the phrase coming from the crowd instead of the stage and felt accordingly uncomfortable every time he said it.

I’m still a fan of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club and I’m glad I went to the show, but the next time they come through Pennsylvania, they might be opening for the Duke Spirit instead of the other way around.

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club - Ain’t No Easy Way

A couple of weeks ago, I was sent the album “Moonbeams” by Throw Me The Statue, which immediately became memorable thanks to the topless woman falling backwards off a dock. So initially, the cover distracted me.

During the first listen, I was a bit put off. I had it on as background music and felt some of it landed in the “crazy” category (think indie rock but incorporating instruments like the recorder). Then I heard the song “Lolita” and began to hear something good.

It was enough to get me out to their show last night and I can now say that I’m an even bigger fan of topless women falling off docks.

TMTS (yes, I’m that lazy) brought something to the small stage few bands do. Sure then had decorative lights and a keyboardist with a penchant for dancing, but what set them apart is the passion displayed on stage. During one song, frontman Scott Reitherman was jumping up and down and pounding on the extra drum kit on stage (yea, they need two. that’s how much they rock).

When Reitherman did this, he seemed possessed on stage, with his eyes closed and the spirit of rock pumping through his skinny frame. It’s encouraging to see passion like that on stage and only made me want to join him in beating the crap out of a drumkit and rock-howling at the moon.

I think their music got into other people as well, specifically the women at the show. By the third song, two scrambled to the front area of the stage and danced like no one was watching (we were). Soon, others joined in and it turned into a wild, uncoordinated musical mess…but it was awesome.

I’m definitely giving this band a couple more listens. If I was in to putting bands in boxes, I’d try to squeeze TMTS into one with Weezer…but I stomp on boxes and burn them, so I’m not going to do that.

Throw Me The Statue - “This is How We Kiss”

A Quick Word about the Opening Band:

Winter Hinterland, a local outfit from Jamaica Plain, MA walked onto the stage and set up these little lanterns (I think there were 3). Then they dimmed the lights, so much so that you could only see the lanterns and the Christmas lights they placed around the drums in the back. First i thought it was a cool atmospheric effect. Then I realized it was probably because the frontwoman was probably shy and didn’t want the audience to see her sing.

All of this faded away when one of the members took out a saw, (you know, the kind you use to cut branches and the limbs of disobedient carnies) and proceeded to play it with a bow.

Creatively speaking, it was cool. Aurally speaking, it reminded me of a sound effect you would hear in a haunted house, the kind of sound you hear before the drunken, unemployable middle-aged man jumps out at you with a mask and fake blood.

So the quick word? They were interesting, but made me feel weird inside…and a little scared. However, I am overjoyed that Boston is getting a weirder music scene, instead of churning out one pop rock band after another.

First off, I suck at posting. I went to this show like a week ago and am only getting to it now. My excuse? I’m a lazy bastard who let’s his day job cut into more important things like this blog and time with the Nintendo Wii (I’m hooked on Call of Duty 3 and if i don’t play it soon, the Germans will take over the world).

I walked in late and caught half of the opening band, a group called Bodies of Water. For some of their set, they sounded like a wayward country band, content with re-hashing the bonanza theme beat for a bunch of hipsters. However, one song stuck out, which is here. Oh and the girl on the keyboards was indie chic hot. You know exactly what I’m talking about.

I did like their song “Doves Circle the Sky”

Sons and Daughters was a different story. They came out and the crowd went nuts. Then lead singer Adele Bethel told the 50 that were there to come closer to the stage because “everyone will have more fun that way.” It’s a Monday night, that’s why.

Thanks to Bethel’s suggestion, everyone got a good look at her legs, since she opted for a super short, glittery disco dress that would have showed off “her business” had she not been wearing boxer shorts underneath (she jumped around a lot and revealed them. I’m not a sicko…at least not like that).

Here they are doing “Gilt Complex” for the crowd off their new album “This Gift,” which is a good listen for anyone into indie dance music.

To be honest, I didn’t have much hope for this band. But I’ve been listening to “Gift” a lot lately and it’s growing on me. That, and it’s pretty impossible for me to shy away from a Scottish girl.

It’s a shame this show had to go down on a Monday night though. I can only imagine the kind of drunken depravity that would have taken place had it been a Friday or Saturday night. Because in a world where there are indie bands galore content with singing songs about heartache and pain, sometimes it’s nice to see a cute girl jumping up and down on stage singing songs about sex.

Currently my favorite thing about living in New York City is that when I learn of an impossibly amazing band, it is like guaranteed they will be playing in the city within two weeks. Most recently and notably, a little duo called The Dodos were brought to my attention about two weeks ago and I’ve been patiently obsessed enamored since. Thusly, The Dodos were handed to me on a delicious musical platter in the form of a show yesterday evening at Sound Fix in Brooklyn’s hipster mecca Williamsburg, preceding a show at Death By Audio.

The venue itself sucked as far as venues go, because it’s really a record store sutured to a quaint, candelabra-lit bar in the back. The stage? Not really. I claimed my spot along the side wall opposite the bar (poor planning), lined with benches and tables; I propped myself on the bench’s backing and still couldn’t really see much beyond the audience hovering over where the band seemed to be standing. I did, however, manage a sweet view of drummer Logan Kroeber who sustained impressive levels of enthusiasm for such a modest little gig.

The show was short but free, so no complaints—and bonus points for squeezing my favorite track on the recently released and Pitchfork-praised Visiter in their six-song set (that song being “The Season,” if you care). Plowing through the first three tracks on Visiter—beseeching no applause—Kroeber and vocalist/guitarist/other-of-two Meric Long (both supported by a third tour-hand and synth-xylo-enthusiast) erupted with energy by means of their respective instruments. They threw in a track from their debut album Beware of the Maniacs for good measure.

Normally I’d knock a band for playing too true to their recordings (and in chronological order, no less), but I’m still running on the novelty high, so bonus points all around! The Dodos are playing a full show (for $10 this time, the capitalists) Sunday at the Mercury Lounge. Check out their MySpace page to test the folksy waters.

The Dodos - The Season

Image what the Weather Channel would sound like if your TV was on ecstasy. That pretty much summarizes Lotus‘ style: smooth jazzy guitar work, funky bass lines and copious hand percussion infused with trance beats and sampling.

Lotus is always a fun show, and last night was no exception. The crowd was lively, having little trouble finding room to dance in spite of constrictive auditorium seating and narrow isles. Over-zealous ushers with little flash-lights and big egos tried in vain to confine fans to their assigned seats.

This Philly-based quintet can definitely jam. They worked through down-and-dirty dance sections, raging crescendos and funky break-downs with a skill and poise deserving of their recent national acclaim. And you’ve got to respect any band that can play through an hour-and-a-half set without having to pause to take a breath.

It could be that I’m just a sucker for hand-percussion, but I think Lotus’s dual-drummer approach created a densely layered rhythm section and lent a unique edge to their sound. Everyone loves a cow-bell. And what’s cooler than a cow-bell? Why more cowbell of course. Or try three cowbells being played in unison by two drummers with all sorts of tambourines, bongos and the like thrown into the mix. Then you get something really cool.

Lotus has come a long way since the last time they played in State College two years ago. Back then their sound was far more organic, resembling something much closer to straight jazz-fusion. Nowadays, the jazz influence still rings through but is often down-played or drowned out in favor of a style closer to the techno persuasion.

The new sound they’ve evolved seems generic; they’re just like the many other trance-fusion acts out there. It’s as though they’ve tailored themselves to fit a niche. The heavy jazz/funk element is what made them unique and I’m a little sad to see it go.

Even still, Lotus is a solid group and they’re certainly worth checking out.

Lotus - Tip of the Tongue