Music

Neon Reverb recap: Neon Indian packs the big room

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Neon Indian, performing on night two of Neon Reverb at Fremont Country Club.
Photo: Bill Hughes

• My coverage zone Friday night included neighboring sister venues Fremont Country Club and Backstage Bar & Billiards, and for a portion of the night, the experience was frustrating. For one, the scheduling didn’t make much sense. Why book a DJ duo like Totescity for a one-hour 7 p.m. slot, but let the 8-9 p.m. slot go dead without a performer—especially when there’s a higher likelihood of a bigger audience in a showcase’s second hour than its first? Also: If a band began a 40-minute set starting on the hour in one venue, why not have the next venue begin its next act on the half-hour, so a staggered schedule can maximize the amount of performer exposure for music fans, especially all-access wristband holders? I could have seen some of GEMS’ set at FCC, except that I was waiting inside BBB for James Supercave, who ended up being 20 minutes late. The connecting hallway between the two spots might’ve solved that problem, but its closure meant no such convenience.

• And yet, those issues pale in comparison to the inconsistent sound quality of these two venues. You couldn’t understand a single word Brett Bolton sang during his 9 p.m. Kitze + The CPUs set at FCC, as his vocals never once rose above his beats and loops. And the levels were horribly uneven during the subsequent set by minimalist pop duo Chaos Chaos. If the harmonies and/or synths were barely audible for one song, one or both were altogether too loud for the next one. Frankly, an act this thin, groove-less and unengaging shouldn’t be opening for an uptempo headliner like Neon Indian in a large, hollow club like FCC. It belonged in an intimate room, like the back area of the Griffin. (That said, a Neon Reverb organizer said Neon Indian’s larger setup meant only one- or two-person support acts could fit in the remaining center-stage space.)

Neon Indian

Neon Indian

Backstage sounded worse, no thanks to its often shrill, rafter-vibrating sound system, ruining the portion of The Mynabirds’ set I caught. I nearly didn’t return for James Supercave, though a colleague cajoled me into doing so. The sound did improve a few songs into their set and, well, more on that in a bit.

• Back to Kitze + The CPUs for a second. One-man-band Bolton proves lo-fi does not mean lo-tech, as he sings, choreographs loops via his myriad gizmos, triggers the onscreen graphics and taps away at his drum pads. It’s an impressive juggling act, made even more stimulating by the projection display, one in which he immerses himself. Musically, Kitze still sounds like a bedroom act, which is to say it’s rich with experimentation but could use a little steady direction and added tunefulness. That said, it feels like Bolton is on the brink of harnessing all that hardware to produce something richer.

• Now back to James Supercave: The quintet, which is becoming more beloved by the month in its native LA, makes for tentative comparisons—I last settled on Broken Bells, with traces of Foals’ lusher impulses and a touch of Roxy Music—and generally difficult descriptions. Credit their complex arrangements and blend of Brit-rock, glam and R&B, all filtered through a general 1980s buoyancy. You’ll spend the first song processing it, but worming around a bit. It makes a bit more sense by the second song, your hips moving with a little more verve. Three tracks in and you’re dancing in place and absorbing the melodies, especially those by vocalist Joaquin Pastor. He doesn’t have the proverbial set of pipes, but the palpable effort he puts forth demonstrates talent, including his falsetto segments. At any rate, each song not only made me want to stay for the next, but seemed to see a larger audience, which certainly started off meager. Lots of promise—and bragging rights for Neon Reverb if the band fulfills it.

• Speaking of bragging rights: That pretty much looked like a full venue—and perhaps the biggest-ever Neon Reverb audience—at FCC for headliner Neon Indian’s midnight show. However, the general admission space wasn’t so packed that it couldn't have a dance party, prompted by the band’s infectious and deliriously rhythmic tunes. Alan Palomo and his four-man crew hit the spot right away, from opening track “Dear Skorpio Magazine” and ragga-flavored single “Annie” to the slink and jerk of “Deadbeat Summer” and the hyper-melodic rhapsody of encore highlight “Polish Girl.” But fun and skill transcended into something else during set-centerpiece “Slumlord”—which seamlessly segued into “Slumlord’s Re-lease”—the five musicians eventually diving right into a layer-stacking jam that felt like pure dancefloor reverie. Cue crowd roars, which continued—and got louder—during the last three numbers. Palomo was happily taken aback, and festival organizers beamed both after the gig and online. They’d all hit a home run with this one.

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