The Kids are Alright

November 30, 2009

The Lonely Forest ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Why is my heart so full? - “Centennial” by the Lonely Forest

The Globes welcomed us to the Showbox as we waited in a healthy early line for will call and attempted to get a lay of the land. The unsigned (for now) Seattle foursome fills a niche for rock that occasionally taps the modern edge of Radiohead but more often veers into Pavement territory, the raw but sweetly rhythmic guitarwork and slightly pitched vocals included. We’ve been watching these gents grow for some time now, and a relentless work ethic is starting to set them apart. These guys always play like they would rather be doing nothing else.

The second band to take the stage, Telekinesis, is a band in flux, despite being the only band with significant label support in the form of Merge Records. This night marked Chris and Jonie Broecker’s last night as members of Telekinesis after a year of touring with the band through 2009, while producer/Death Cab for Cutie guitarist Chris Walla filled in on auxiliary guitar for regular Chris Staples, who I suspect may still be out with an injury. Even with change on the horizon, and with this special backing for this special occasion, Telekinesis frontman Michael Lerner was also making his first go at the Showbox, and so had a whole lot to prove. If not to anyone else then at least to himself.

The floor’s full all-ages section appeared just as enamored of Lerner’s quirky daydreams as one would expect of a headliner, providing a robust choir of “oh oh oh’s” on Tokyo like most adults would be embarassed to sing, and mouthing the rest of the words with the air of genuine fans. Taking a turn of three songs at the acoustic, “I Saw Lightning” rang of early Death Cab and the “Foreign Room” mid-song transition to drums from acoustic takes a pages from Walla & friends more recent temperament. Anchoring his set with this blog’s favorite song “Coast of Carolina,” nobody in the seemed reluctant to add their own “na na, na na na na na’s” into the mix as he began, or dance their pants off until it was over.

The Lonely Forest, with their name on the marquee, were without a doubt the focus of the night. That they attracted so many people, fans of specifically them, on the Friday following Thanksgiving, was a mark in the win column before they’d even played a note. And yet the band spared no energy in playing to that crowd. I didn’t really expect any less considering frontman Jon Van Deusen can barely contain himself when he tries to, but considering that this night may have been their biggest yet, a whole ‘nother level of excitement must have been pulsing through his arteries. When bands coming up in Seattle are thinking about “making it,” playing the Showbox is pretty much the definition of “making it.” (Rolling in bags of money is not part of that definition.)

Early on “Two Pink Pills” and then “Centennial,” both with super-fan sing-along intro’s and choruses, revealed the pent up anticipation wasn’t just on the part of the band. “Centennial’s” repeating line “Why is my heart so full?” somehow seems to sum up the teenage experience, and of anyone, the youngest in the room screamed the refrain with the naivete and earnestness that only that youth can provide. “Mt. Constitution’s” round and then “Tomato Soup” gave the girls in the audience their time to shine, and they it seemed, were even less reluctant than the boys to play their part in the choir.

“We Sing in Time” was the set’s final flourish, the apex of which had the most enthusiastic all-agers in a flurry activity right in front of Van Deusen’s own microphone. With a nod to the girls getting crushed up front he finished the song by offering himself up for sacrifice to quell the crowd, floating on top for only a second before being swallowed up in appreciation. For an encore Van Deusen offered a number on piano, before finally finishing off with the aptly titled “They’re Onto Something,” a song where he traditionally loses all body control and careens around the stage with no regard. That he’d contained his nervous excitement to this point was impressive, but pressure had built up so much that by the end of the song, after jumping off of every conceivable object on the stage, he bulldozed his keyboard into the front row and found himself five rows deep in the crowd.

With your name on the marquee you get to do stuff like that. People expect it and cheer you for it. And if it were just a lot needless antics and posing, I’d probably take issue with it. But for Van Deusen, it’s not like that at all. That movement is channeling something he obviously needs to express, and hardly calculated, it feels like a window into the tumultuous chaos brewing just under his skin, possibly the same chaos that’s fueled the experiences that led to writing of many of his songs. The “Body Electric,” indeed.