By: David Schultz

It wasn’t that long ago that a multitude of people jumped on the Cold War Kids bandwagon with even more climbing on after the release of Robbers & Cowards, which culled the best of the band’s past EPs onto one brilliant release. On the aptly named Loyalty To Loyalty, the Kids are separating the wheat of their true fans from the chaff of the fair weather variety. The Kids surely aren’t abandoning their idiosyncratic artsy-Bauhaus, saloon hall style, but for significant stretches of Loyalty, most notably on “Avalanche In B,” Nathan Willett’s unguarded vocals sound too much like an aging Bavarian whore moaning about the past in a decrepit cabaret. It’s enough to draw concern that there may be more to “Something Is Not Right With Me” than meets the eye. Fear not though: as they proved last week at New York City’s Webster Hall and Brooklyn’s Music Hall of Williamsburg, there’s nothing wrong. In fact, to borrow an overused phrase, the Cold War Kids are quite alright.

Working off the same set list at both shows, Willett, guitarist Jonnie Russell, bassist Matt Maust and drummer Matt Aveiro reestablished themselves as a fantastic live act throwing themselves into each song with an unparalleled level of commitment. Leaving the hausfrau dirges out of the set, Willett opened the show banging out the boozy piano riffs of “Every Valley Is Not A Lake” and “We Used To Vacation” before getting to his feet for Loyalty tracks most reminiscent of Robbers & Cowards, “Mexican Dogs” and “Something Is Not Right With Me.” Kinetically and purposefully striding and dancing around the stage, Russell and Maust cranked out the Kids’ menacing and desolate, back alley melodies with a committed seriousness. Their peripatetic style of prowling the stage, bouncing and rebounding off each other only serves to enhance the mood. Without ever cracking a smile, they convey intense joy. They also have a sense for the theatrical, shutting off the house lights for “Robbers” and using flashlights to illuminate the audience from the darkness of the stage.

The Velvet Underground fringes of “Quiet Please” have evolved over time and “St. John” with its modified prison chain gang chanting has transformed into the ultimate finale. Otherwise, the biggest changes to longtime staples concern the reaction they receive. The crowd pops wildly upon hearing Maust play the pulsing bass line that opens “Hang Me Up To Dry” and the opening piano chords of “We Used To Vacation” prompts the same rallying welcome. Plus, the crowd sings along with every word.

Southern singer-songwriter AA Bondy opened both shows and at Webster Hall had the unenviable task of playing to a crowd more interested in themselves than the fine music emanating from the stage. A true shame; from the opening harmonica blast of “Witness Blues,” Bondy cast the pearls of his American Hearts album before proverbial swine. That a crowd purportedly knowledgeable enough to be at a Cold War Kids show couldn’t be bothered to collectively stifle themselves for Bondy’s set belied the poseur culture that permeates all too many shows. Counteracting the talkative crowd, Bondy incorporated drums and an extra guitar to add muscle and sinew to the framework of songs like “Vice Rag” and “American Hearts” before tearing through a potent version of “I Killed Myself When I Was Young.”

On paper, the two weekday gigs seemed quite similar. However the Williamsburg show had an electricity to it that was a direct result of the enthusiastic Brooklyn crowd. The New York City audience seemed to be there because they heard the Cold War Kids show might be a cool place to be; the Brooklyn crowd was there because they knew it was the cool place to be. It’s the difference between being amidst a crowd too selfish and egotistic to recognize and respect the music being played for them and being in one that can prioritize for the hour and a half that the band they came to see is on stage. After the Brooklyn crowd spent the encore break engaging in a rowdy soccer cheer – which didn’t escape the band’s attention – it became evident that New York City may no longer be the real Mecca of East Coast rock and roll and the best audiences may be located a few miles to the South. As a New Yorker who likes to look down his nose at that other borough, this revelation is quite disconcerting. Given that the Kids dragged out the ending of “St. John,” seemingly enjoying the moment too much to end the show, they might have sensed this shift as well.

Labels: AA Bondy, Cold War Kids