Every so often, the most riveting act in a lineup comes from someone other than the bill’s headliner. That was the case on Friday night at the Crocodile, where Matthew Friedberger—one half of sibling experimental rock duo The Fiery Furnaces—used his time, sandwiched between Seattle locals The Purrs and pleasant indie rock mainstays The Sea and Cake, to utterly confound the crowd.
After The Purrs wrapped up a strong throwback-style opening set recalling ‘80s British psychedelic pop, Friedberger took the stage in promotion of his latest solo album, the 45-track (but only hour-long) Matricidal Sons of Bitches, which dropped just last week. Donning all black and with a shaggy sheepdog-meets-Cousin It haircut cascading over his face, he immediately jumped into something that was far more performance art than rock gig, neurotically marching between keyboards, setting off glitchy, disharmonious loops and samples, and muttering a nonsense—though clearly carefully-rehearsed—stream-of-consciousness monologue.
As The Fiery Furnaces’ mastermind (he handles most of the songwriting, while sister Eleanor takes on vocals) rambled on about graveyards and helicopter landings and God-knows-what-else, with few clear-cut songs emerging from his jumble of sounds, the faces of the audience watching him were priceless. Some were amused, many were confused, and the rest were stone-faced, unsure of how to react or what they were even witnessing.
“I feel like I’m being Andy Kaufman’ed,” someone whispered.
This all makes Friedberger’s antics kind of genius, placed against the backdrop of an alternative scene far more used to staid stand-and-deliver sets that mostly serve a band’s diehards, who can mouth along each word and are in euphoria by just being in the same room as their idols. So you gotta give it up for a dude ballsy and committed enough to put together a mind-melting showcase that will, at the very least, remain memorable (if not particularly enjoyable beyond its “what the f—?!” novelty) to a majority of those in attendance.
The same can’t really be said of The Sea and Cake, who fall solidly into that “stand-and-deliver” category of live performance. Then again, they have two decades under their band’s belt, as well as experience in other lauded bands, like drummer John McEntire’s double-duty as part of Tortoise. Perhaps by this point, the Chicago foursome has earned the right to let their music speak for itself.
The latest bits doing the talking are from Runner, The Sea and Cake’s ninth and most recent studio album. It continues the band’s trend of mature, laid-back tunes, like “A Mere,” performed on Friday night with its smooth, jazzy guitar opening leading into Sam Prekop’s soothing vocals. It’s obvious this is a group focused on the unity of the album over the flash of the single, and each clean and exceptionally tight song was followed by another, with variations subtle enough that the entire experience—rarely interrupted by on-stage commentary or movement more strenuous than hypnotic swaying—felt like one continuous track. Maybe a little too subtle and continuous; after wrapping up every song, Prekop would bend down and flip away another piece of poster board, a helpful reminder with each line of lyrics carefully written in black marker.
But even with The Sea and Cake’s years of carefully honed musicianship on display, it was difficult not to think back to Friedberger’s spectacle, and difficult to avoid contrasting the two experiences. And it prompts the question: what’s more important at a concert? A unique showing you could never get from just listening to an album (it should be noted, Friedberger’s records are significantly more melodic than what he presented on stage), or an amplified run-through of familiar sounds and the knowledge you’ve shared a space with an artist you love, thrilling stage presence or not?
