Delta Spirit, the lovechild of The Beatles and an underground San Diego soul band, played at the Ottobar on Monday night.
The scene featured older tattooed and pierced grungy locals with ill-fitting tees and hoodies. The concert started at 8:30 PM with the headlining band not even making it on stage until a little after 10:30.
A random disco ball placed off-center for the occasion gave the venue an “abstract” feel. Christmas lights were placed on either side of the glittering 70’s centerpiece.
As the opening band hit the stage, older men with ambitions towards Beatles-esque musical stylings ignored the tucked-away bar, choosing instead to put beer out on a table.
Across from the makeshift, non-refrigerated mini-bar, a dark-haired Santa Claus sold merchandise, Delta Spirit bags and t-shirts with disgruntled kittens on them.
The lead singer of the opening band, wearing a Bob Saget sweater, seemed unfazed by the apathetic audience. The crowd was completely still, with the exception of a couple of drunks in the front row. The music they were playing could only be loosely classified as danceable.
Delta Spirit finally hit the stage; the lead singer screeched the lyrics using two microphones (one on the stand and one in his hand). He launched into song with so much bodily force that it was unclear if he would make it through alive. The two drummers shared a set, one on each side, adding to the overwhelming sound.
They played one of their bigger songs “Strange Vine,” the crowd bobbing aimlessly. Exactly one male in the front mouthed the lyrics back.
They changed instruments constantly, particularly the guitars, causing feedback as the lead singer kept readjusting the settings on the amp. The bass player swayed around with a glazed look in his eyes, trance-like, as if on recreational drugs. The keyboardist played electronic piano on stage, but its presence seemed to clash with the band’s grunge look.
As the crowd started getting into the music, they start to bob with greater frequency.
The lead singer, Matthew Vasquez, paused to chat with audience, mentioning that it’s only their third time in Baltimore. He wanted to thank the people who came up from DC, saying “it’s a real treat.” He sympathized; it took them 26 hours to get from Providence to Baltimore in the Thanksgiving traffic.
The crowd clapped along to the mellow, trippy beat. Midway through the song, the guitarist turned to the drummer and keyboardist for a musical interlude featuring African-sounding percussion. Delta Spirit enjoyed their long instrumental breaks, and the drums really set the bar for most of the songs on their set list; they served as the heart of the music, with synthesized piano adding to the pulse. During each unique “play off,” the band indulged in a lot of head-thrashing and hair-tossing. At the climax, the lights and music cut out simultaneously.
The band then played the more popular “Streetwalker.” As soon as the first chord was struck, the crowd began to whistle wildly.
Clearly a favorite, this song sounded as thrilling live as it does on the recording, even though Vasquez’s voice was strained. His voice scratches from his throat, belying his appearance.
Thawing in the face of such earnestness, the entire concert venue sang along. Even couples took a break from gyrating to participate in the moment and sway along.
After that touching moment, Delta Spirit kicked it old school and played a song from their first album Parade. Although they played hard-to-get at the beginning of the concert, the crowd eventually engaged with the band. At the end of the song, the lead guitarist emitted a weird, barking note from his guitar. The crowd screamed wildly. The stage actually began to shake, too small for the band’s headbanging and spastic antics.
The next song, dedicated to “Craig, who’s not here right now,” garnered a positive response. The crowd nodded vigorously in time with the beat. Vasquez whipped out a harmonica to play “Ode to Sunshine,” (the title track of one of their albums), as the drums mimicked the pace of a trotting horse.
Vasquez then switched seats with the keyboardist to better speak to the crowd. He asked them if they preferred a song by “Tom Waits or Pink Floyd?” The response was unanimous — “Tom from San Diego!” Incidentally, Delta Spirit hails from California as well. “The Heart of Saturday Night” had an addicting pulse, though it started out as a ballad. Deceptively slow, it recommenced with the drums and tambourine, kicking it up a notch.
The band next played “Trashcan,” another favorite where the keyboard player served as lead vocalist, much to the crowd’s pleasure. He used an alternative type of instrument, a hybrid of tambourine strapped to a tin trashcan lid, which he beat with a drumstick.
The song “Bushwick Blues,” a single from their second album History From Below, could hardly be heard in the small, enclosed space. Afterwards, they played “People C’mon.” At the first chord, the crowd screamed and shouted back lyrics. The drummer, who carried the band’s musical appeal on his shoulders, struggled as perspiration soaked his v-neck and face.
Vasquez addressed the crowd, mentioning that the next song was based on a true story. The crowd began to shush each other, screaming, “shut up, let him play.” The song “Ballad of Vitaly” had a political and social message, the lyrics telling the story of a maltreated Russian everyman.
The band pretended to end the set, disappearing into the wings. The crowd begged for an encore, already knowing the deal, and and chanted “Delta, Delta.” The band reentered the stage and played “Give Me Some Motivation” for an encore. In exhiliration, the crowd danced wildly with the bassist.
The guitarist proceeded to jump over the side patio, almost injuring Senior Eric Levenseller, one of five Hopkins students who attended the event, as well as other audience members.
The band closed by talking about “the things we learn every day.” The slowing of the revved up energy of the crowd came suddenly, and they closed their set with “People, Turn Around.” The song, perfect for the finale, had a great, feel-good, sing-along and folk-like feel. The shudder-inducing line “the life we’ve been killing is your life like mine,” made for an eerie ending.
The wild musically extravaganza ended with the lights cutting out and a single, lingering guitar note as it rang out across the venue. In the following stillness, a scene from any uplifting, epiphanic rock video, the band walked off stage.
