Bombay Bicycle Club’s show on Tuesday night was essentially a theatrical production. Lead singer Jack Steadman’s voice was similar to that of a Broadway actor, sale at all times clearly audible, showcasing a dramatically wide range of emotions and pitches against complimentary backdrops and lighting. The show was filled with songs following the classically dramatic crescendo structure, beginning quietly with minimal vocals and instrumental accompaniment then reaching escalation, peaking into louder vocals and amped up guitars to the steadily increasing drumbeat. The finale was, oops spoiler alert, actually a finale – featuring instrumental reprises and segments from earlier songs in the night. But as the Royale was literally nowhere near Broadway, the content of the show too, fell short of theatrical success. Like sub par acting or bad persuasion, it became excessive. It felt as though the band was desperately trying to sell me something with gaudily transparent intentions, and what they were trying to sell was emotion.
Bombay Bicycle Club’s sound is similar to that of Two Door Cinema Club and Young The Giant – being played softly in the background of Urban Outfitters or a pinewood planked coffee shop for the ambiance of 21st century cool indie hipster. Don’t get me wrong, I am absolutely not saying in any way that these bands are musically inept. On the contrary, these bands are probably more instrumentally complex and talented than many – Bombay Bicycle Club performed each song live expertly and spectacularly. They did not fall prey to what has plagued other indie bands, of clinging so much to their soft and sweet sound on record that their live performance becomes cringingly boring, leaving the crowd unsatisfied and subdued. No, Bombay Bicycle Club went the exact opposite by employing surprisingly heavy guitar choruses and riffs in their performance. But not only that, the band showed complete ease in switching between musical styles – they used an exciting and wide range of instruments, favorites of mine included tambourines and maracas against staccato and short guitar plucks for their signature lightly tribal sounding songs, and shimmering washes of electronic accents paired in time with Steadman and female singer Liz Lawrence’s heartfelt vocal harmonies.
With each song came the onset of a matching display of impressive and appealing visuals on the large circle screens set up on stage, such as the romantic navy blue backdrop with kaleidoscope like white circles for the bittersweet ‘How Can You Swallow So Much Sleep’, or the stirring red blooming lotus flower against rosy lights for more upbeat songs. It was everything a show needed to be. It appealed to all of the senses. But yet somewhow for me, it made me suspicious. What were they overcompensating for?
I want to make it clear once more, that Bombay Bicycle Club has musical ability and savvy. They are not new to this game. They have the detailed visuals of a professional and the excited and genuinely passionate impressions on their faces as they whirl into choruses and guitar pounding. They’re happy to be here. Their fans were more than happy to see them.
But maybe what I found to be missing, in spite of all of the lyrical content remaining stubbornly to the subject matter of being ready to fall in love, missing somebody, feeling complicated about being in love, ecetera, were songs that were depictions of actual emotion.
See, my problem with it was that it seemed too perfect. The song ‘Luna’ seems to be about that cathartic moment where one is finally ready to admit their affections to somebody. Now I don’t know about you, but when I think about that, I do not think about timed maracas, harmonies, chanting choruses and pop music-esque wails to swirling lights and plumes of smoke – I think about the rawest of raw emotions – pure terror, vulnerability, swallowing insecurity, and fine, whatever colors and lights may match I guess would be okay with me.
Superb show, and nothing wrong on the part of Bombay Bicycle Club. All technicalities and bases covered, all hit songs from ‘So Long, See You Tomorrow’ as well as throwbacks such as ‘Always Like This’ and ‘Shuffle’ – performed, all of the loose ends neatly tied up. And of course, before you type in that nasty Internet rebuttal, I understand that nobody actually thinks about any type of a musical concert when they are in the romantic mush pot.
But Bombay Bicycle Club’s performance still felt like it was missing something for me. It’s probably because I’m a grump, mainly because I’m a huge pessimist, jaded and cynical, only receptive to emotion when it is screamed in my face or within the broken vocals of a deceptively simple tune, finding it so much more worthy and feeling it so much more if I have to go hunt for it within the melodies myself. So this is what I found to be the twisted downfall to Bombay Bicycle Club’s performance, that it serves the slow complexity of emotion and heartbreak in a far too easy and instantaneously gratuitous way.
