[Si] TV

"Fan of the Red Sox and whoever beats the Yankees," is the mantra of most Bostonians who loathe all things New York and love to celebrate their guiltless hatred. Interpol is quite possibly the only exception to this. A band that several years ago played to large crowds by the default of opening for acts like The Cure, Interpol drew a large crowd of its own, making purist hearts flutter with thoughts of Interpol's major label stardom.

The line outside Boston University's Agganis Arena was decidedly collegiate; there were far more T-shirt and cargo short sophomores than the trendy black clad hipsters that showed up to Interpol's release party weeks earlier in L.A. The show was opened with a nerve-racking performance by the noise rock outfit, Liars. It was hard to derive a highlight from the static and feedback. Most of the crowd had shuffled in during the following intermission to pretty much fill the transformed hockey rink. Besides the mire of college students, there were also a surprisingly large number of older adults, giving the crowd almost more of a Bruce Springsteen concert kind of look rather than a Stella Artois-sporting, hipster scene.

Paul Banks never mentioned whether or not this growing appeal bothered Interpol. He said about three words the entire show. By the time Interpol took the stage, the crowd was filled with the kind of tension that defines each of Interpol's tracks. Apart from drummer Sam Fogarino's sweaty, distinguished, white shirt, Interpol wandered out onto the stage in black, looking more like a scene from Pulp Fiction than typical indie rocker fare. The crowd sitting in the converted ice rink rose in unison amongst cheers as Banks muttered a Johnny Cash-like, "Good evening."

They opened with "Pioneer to the Falls," the first track from their recent album, Our Love to Admire. The response for the track was a warm one from the crowd, indicating that the album had made a strong rotation since its release. Interpol is a band that stays beautifully true to its studio sound and with the aide of huge speaker support, the effect of their music is a relentless trance. The light panels that decorated the stage were understated, but it added to the intensity of the music, changing at times like it was Banks' mood ring.

Interpol's shows are different in the way the crowd reacts. Unlike shows where screaming fans cramp toward the stage in pseudo-mosh form, Interpol's crowds stand in place, awkwardly swaying and at times throwing their arms in the air like so many church goers. To watch the crowd behave this way, though, subverts what is really going on inside each individual as Interpol guides one of the most intense meditations any of the crowd will ever experience. One change in Interpol's performance compared to past years is a little more spring in their step. As he plays guitar, Dan Kessler violently cuts a rug, and Carlos D arrogantly grips and handles his bass like it were a huge phallus. Banks still stays true to his stander roots though, and sported a Josh Homme look with a short sleeve black shirt and armband.

The set list included a smattering of tracks from all three of their albums, and the most excitedly received was the first single from their sophomore album, "Slow Hands." The only moment Banks seemed disappointed to be playing in an arena was during the empty pause half-way through their single "Heinrich Maneuver." People in the audience began to clap as if the song had ended, and when Banks restarted the song, his voice was less enthusiastic as if he was asking the crowd if it had ever heard it before. The encore brought the trance to a close in perfect fashion with tracks "Stella Was a Diver and She Was Always Down," "NYC," and "PDA."

When the lights came up, the crowd had stars in their eyes, and it seemed like everyone was surprised that the concert hadn't just gone on for the rest of time like it should have.

Filter Grade: 87%

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