I'm always rooting for the opening band. After subtracting tuition, rent, food, and the occasional telescope, the co-op student salary leaves very little in the way of concert money, so one must be quite discriminating when it comes to picking shows to attend. As a result, the headlining band is very rarely disappointing. The uncertainty is in the opener. Might they be the next Arcade Fire, searching for a crusading David Bowie to reveal them to the masses? Or will they be some garage band picked last-minute to replace the original opener, who cancelled to play some other gig? At the Hold Steady show, we got the garage band.
Horsey Craze began as a Neil Young cover band whose members were none other than those full-time workers, the Constantines. Will Kidman was the only one from the band playing under the Horsey Craze banner this evening, and coincidentally, he seemed to be the only one on stage with any performance experience whatsoever. The opening five minutes of guitar noise, at first thought to be the band warming up, turned into something resembling a song only when Kidman began singing. However, the illusion was lost whenever the band broke into yet another round of turbid, off-beat guitar solos. Things improved after the first song, albeit marginally. Hold Steady members Franz Nicolay (who is also in the World/Inferno Friendship Society, and a few other bands, which is absolutely awesome) and Tab Kubler joined the band for their song of the night; Nicolay adding some much needed flair to the performance, while Kubler served to remind everyone what a real guitar solo sounds like. Over the course of the night, it became evident that Horsey Craze was pretty tight with the Hold Steady, which may help to explain exactly why they were opening that night.
When the Hold Steady took the stage twenty minutes after Horsey Craze's departure, the crowd, consisting mostly of adults approaching their forties trying to recapture the youthfulness of their twenties, had thickened ten-fold. From their opening song, the Hold Steady established themselves as a light-hearted, fun-loving bar-rock outfit. Windmills, scissor-kicks off stairs, and general rock-outage were all in effect as the Hold Steady played through a set which, much to everyone's delight, featured a fair portion of material from their new record, "Boys and Girls in America."
Craig Finn was almost a walking contradiction. He appeared aged and experienced when singing, but simultaneously displayed a childish happiness, jumping around the stage while giddily clapping whenever there were four-bar breaks. He delivered lyrics in his usual half-drunk spoken-word fashion, though with an intensity and franticness that, on the group's records, is merely hinted at. Oftentimes, he would precede songs with explanatory stories, most memorably the tale of how Saint Barbara became the patron saint of landmines (or, rather, the patron saint of being kept from exploding by landmines) before "Don't Let Me Explode".
Perhaps most entertaining of all, though, was keyboard player Franz Nicolay. Clad in a black suit with a red tie and red handkerchief, and sporting the sort of twisting moustache that is usually associated with conniving villains, his boisterous mannerisms in front of the keyboard matched all the exuberance of his fellow bandmates. During "Southtown Girls", and other songs from their forthcoming album, he seemed more like an opera singer than a rock band member when he backed up Finn on vocals.
The Hold Steady know their trade well. Throughout all the showboating and storytelling, the music never failed to impress. Crisp, clean guitar solos, killer piano, and thunderous drums keeping everyone clapping to the beat, or fist pumping, or rocking out along with the band. Even toward the end, when all the band's beer drinking had caught up with them and their "good times" attitude was more apparent than ever, the music was as tight as it was at the beginning to the show.
It seemed that the middle-aged audience had come to the right place to bring back their lost youth. The band's silliness was infectious. They tried closing their encore epically with the appropriate "Steve Nix," but the audience's applause roused them to perform one last jam. For Finn, the show was just another killer party where he was the host/main attraction. It was his job to ensure that everyone in attendance felt eternally seventeen. And for the hour and a half set, everyone did.
-Ludwik A. Sobiesiak
