Emily Haines of Metric ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

It takes balls to come on stage to the Carmina Burana. I mean really?! Who can do that in a legit manner without a heavy dose of irony? Maybe the WWF’s Undertaker can pull it off. But Jared Leto and his band 30 Seconds to Mars? Not so much. Making everyone wait as if they are Queen or the Stones or something, the lights dim and the opera’s famous refrain drones on and on until it finally reaches it’s climax and Leto prances out and accentuates the peak moments with his guitar. Four minutes of buildup for that? The first two minutes of ’song’ were then peppered with “How You Doin’ Seattle!” and “I want everybody to Jump, just like this!” Dude, entertain me. Don’t tell me to jump. You need to earn that enthusiasm from me. At that point I had to walk out. I twittered “30 Seconds to … Beer garden.” Where I had a horrible 8.25 draft beer. I should have twittered “30 Seconds too long.” The night wasn’t all bad though.

Rachel Flotard’s Visqueen sounded at their best with massive speakers at their disposal. I remember seeing them hella loud on the Sasquatch main stage one year back and thinking “This band is badass!” It’s been a while, but with Flotard’s overflowing excitement, I regained that feeling. Lakewood, in the house?!?! Vampire Weekend, strangely in the second opening spot, sounded about as one would expect, and with an impressive number of radio recognizable hits they had no trouble filling the the pitifully short set with crowd pleasers like “A-Punk” and “Walcott.” The new song “Cousins” was the least pleasing of the set. It was rough. “Mansnard Roof” though, that is a damn good song. Other than Phoenix only getting 25 minutes too, the absence of “Horchata” was really the big disappointment of the night. I kid, I kid.

Phoenix launched their set with “Lisztomainia,” in my estimation, one of this year’s most gushworthy songs. Given the massive hype surrounding them I’ve been remiss in picking up their record Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix, and three songs in I was feeling stupid and stubborn on that count. Closing with mega-single “1901,” front man Thomas Mars took the opportunity to crowdsurf all the way to the back of the floor. Aside from the antics, and my love for “Lisztomainia,” “1901″ was the song of the night. Write a song like that Jared Leto, and you’ll never have to ask people to bounce again. They’ll just freak out all on their own.

Metric, whom we may have had a few hard words about in the less than ideal conditions of a blustery and wet Bumbershoot this year, sounded like a positively different band. With the benefit of a closed space and a top notch sound system, one can really appreciate the nuances of distortion and the waves of feedback they are trying to portray, something completely lost without walls or when at the mercy of a festival sound setup. This is another band meant to be backed by massive stacks. Emily Haines is a magnetic stage presence, an eye catching mix of alluring front woman and furious rock n’ roller. She’s always in movement, always living the songs, and that kind of performance is just as important as what the lyrics and music communicate. Considering the kind of example she sets, I’m beginning to understand why so many are taken with Metric.

Being at a Muse concert brings me back to the early aughts. College. It’s been a while. For a band who normally play’s arenas, this long sold out show in a much smaller room was a special affair for the obvious mass of Muse fans in the room. (They’ll be back to their normal environs at Key Arena with Silversun Pickups April 2nd.) The unwritten rule of uncool about not wearing a shirt at the same show you are bought it at was apparently suspended, much to Muse’s glee, who had a walking t-shirt model at every turn. Around the back of the thickly congested floor, moms with candy cane earrings corralled their young-in’s who couldn’t drive, the bunch of them often short enough that they were relegated to attempting to see from the back, ending up having to rely on the big screens to see anything at all.

For a three-man band (plus a sometimes keyboardist), Muse sound positively gargantuan. The trademark custom guitars with wave modification modules built into the body are just one of the many things that mark this band as larger than your average bear. Matthew Bellamy doesn’t need to say a damn word to the entice the crowd into movement, he entertains us with his bona-fide licks and pinpoint control of his feedback.  He’ll then take a gothic turn at the piano. Had they chosen one of the most recognizable and dramatic arias as their entry music, I would have at least conceded that maybe they’d earned the right to do that. If anything though, their show proved Muse doesn’t need dramatic entry music. Or entry music of any kind. Muse is a band that needs no introduction at all.

Metric ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Metric ::: Photo by Josh Lovseth

Flickr: Metric at the 107.7 Deck the Hall Ball 2009