Coming to Baltimore on a tidal wave of Internet hype, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, a Brooklyn-based fivesome whose playful debut has charmed the hearts of many listeners and has gained them overnight success similar to that of The Arcade Fire.
Some see them as heroes of independent music, having sold 20,000 copies of their self-recorded, self-released album. But beyond such trappings, they have produced a truly creative and unique album that translated very well to the stage.
Almost true to its name, the 8x10 Club (the former Funk Box) served as an intimate venue. A dim light bathed eager fans as well as the openers, The Black Angels, who up on their pedestal seemed like golden and comatose gods of psychedelic rock. With songs gliding in and out of each other like one never-ending composition, it took a while to realize that several identical songs had actually been played.
Attempting to recreate an era that they are all to young to remember, the Austin band describes its music as some sort of journey through hell with Nico. The group's Web site requests that the listener, "turn on, tune in, drone out." Drone out? Well, they were easy to tune out.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah set an altogether different mood, gaining speed quickly with "The Skin of My Yellow Country Teeth." With its recognizable synthesizer intro and trembling Verlaine-esque guitar, the song immediately took on an anthemic presence.
While the urgency in Alec Ounsworth's oddly appealing, yodeling, muppet-like vocals (which have been compared to those of David Byrne of Talking Heads) seemed fitting for a climax, there was much to come.
The set quavered in emotion, weaving in and out of euphoria and then feeding into more anguished songs such as "Details of the War," with guitar gently skimming over cantering drums and the glowing buzz of the synthesizer and reaching its height in melancholy harmonica and Ounsworth's cracking vocals.
Charged through the entire album, the performance's highlights included the gleaming pop song "This Home on Ice" and the bluesy "Gimme Some Salt," during which Ounsworth's voice became comically garbled, even less intelligible than in the recording.
"Upon This Tidal Wave of Young Blood" brought an interesting mix of dance-like whimsy and politically charged lyrics: "We are men who stay alive / Who send your children away now / We are calling from a tower / Expressing what must be / Everyone's opinion."
As concertgoers were bathed in the warmth of the 80s synths and lilting guitars, the giddiness spread through the crowd to the point where the floor seemed spring-loaded. Keyboardist Robbie Guertin seemed even happier to be there than the fans, jumping as he pounded away at the keyboard. Playfully scooting around the stage plinking his guitar and wagging his head, Ounsworth would periodically break into a momentary uncontrollable smile. It's doubtful that a single person didn't leave the concert feeling just a little bit happier.
While Clap Your Hand Say Yeah owes its overnight success to loads of online buzz, its publicity is not undeserved. With a tasteful tiger rug, named "Toby or Pete," that they won from The National in poker as a backdrop, CYHSY could not be taken too seriously. But that was not the point.
The show was not about any sort of pretense. Looking at the band on stage, they did not come off as particularly cool. They were just some guys who wrote some really great songs, shared them, and it turned out that a bunch of people really liked them. This is music for the sake of music.
For information on upcoming shows at the 8x10, visit http://www.eightbytenclub.com. For ticket reservations, call (410) 625-2000.
