Four Mandolins and a Concert

The week had stalled right in the middle due to an overload of work, and the end was still another two arduous days away. Instead of taking the easy way out and doing what most Waterloo-ers would on such a night - that is to say, go to the Bombshelter pub - it was off to not-so-far-away Toronto for some Eastern European folk music. The night was guaranteed to be filled with mandolins, oom-pa-pa style brass arrangements, and various violin and accordion solos. No, I wasn't hitting up the local Ukrainian Community Centre; Beirut was coming to the Horseshoe Tavern.

The opening band, Saffron Effect, was inconsequential. Their brand of light-rock-plus-a-flute brought to mind at times a mediocre Beatles, at other times, some brand of fantasy-themed elven folk rock, but it never managed to rise above the crowd or capture anyone's attention. Only after they left did people really take any interest in the stage.

Like a good surprise party, everyone walked into the Beirut show blind, having no real idea what to expect. What kind of live performance could such a band provide? As it turned out, a surprisingly powerful one. Zach Condon had traveled the Balkan states and had clearly taken a lot from the music of the Balkan gypsies, among other Eastern European influences, and incorporated it into his music. But where on the album certain songs - like "Mount Wroclai (Idle Days)" and "Rhineland" - sound heavy and somber, live, the same tunes translated into much more buoyant, inspiring pieces.

Condon led the band through each song with a voice that has timbre far beyond its years. Aside from the mandatory drum, the six other band members brandished instruments that would be atypical to most other concerts. A line of two mandolins and a ukulele provided the foundation for each song, while trumpets, bassoons, a violin and an accordion all added their distinct flourishes to the mélange. Although most songs never strayed too far from their established album versions, both "After the Curtain" and "Scenic World" saw the violin take the place of the keyboard. Upon re-listening to the to the album after the show, these songs' synthesizer melodies, as created by the keyboard, seemed to stand out like sore thumbs. In the keyboard's place, the violin served to give songs a more folk-like texture, which helped to blend the songs into the rest of the set.

The band's stage show was not as polished as that of more experienced bands: the set list changed on the fly; instruments were lost or mixed up between members; songs began before everyone was ready. It was clear that the band was still trying to find its rhythm as a unit. But for what Beirut lacked in cohesiveness between songs, it made up for with some excellent musicianship during the actual performance.

A quick forty-five minutes after the band had (quite appropriately, given their music) marched out to "The Gulag Orkestar", the set wrapped up and the band departed. A thunderclap of applause brought them quickly back out for what would make the evening stand out. Having already exhausted all the album material, as well as some unreleased songs ("Elephant Gun" and "Carrousel", which could have easily come from Gulag Orkestar), Condon announced the band would cover "Brazil", a famous song from the bygone swing era. The band then proceeded to move the entire performance off of the stage and onto the floor, opting to play while entirely surrounded by the crowd. The result was the shattering of all barriers between band and audience. During that song, there was no pretentiousness between the band and audience, no division. Everyone was just dancing the hell out of a song that people had been dancing the hell out of for years.

Beirut left the room a second time to the roar and cheer of an insatiable crowd that demanded one more song. Some would argue that Condon should have left the finale as it was: the absolute climax of the performance. Instead, he gave the audience a view of a less by-the-numbers Beirut. "We're out of songs," he announced, "so we're going to playing old drinking songs we know." It was nothing fancy or glamorous, but it was a crowd pleaser - really, all anyone wanted was to listen to those mandolins strum for just a little longer.

-Ludwik A. Sobiesiak