Alright, price no one else is saying it, viagra so I feel like I have to: this shouldn’t be possible. Hell, buy this shouldn’t even work as well as it does. “This” is, of course, referring to Converse Rubber Tracks Live Residency this week at The Sinclair, who are somehow smushing The Replacements, Chance The Rapper, Slayer and a few other ridiculously beloved artists into a 500 person capacity venue over five days.
In my cynical mind, this is an after school special lesson waiting to happen. Converse is the wide-eyed kid with keys to a vacation house for a week and the ambition to have the kind of ridiculous party we tell our grandkids about one day. Consequences aren’t considered though and the party escalates too quickly…this story, of course, usually ends in vomit all over mom’s hydrangeas, arrests and fines by the cops and some weird couple nobody knows drunkenly groping each other in the guest room. We’re now two nights deep into this residency though and there isn’t a single cautionary tale in sight at the Sinclair.
Local openers Radclyffe Hill resembled our thoughts closest when, midway through mentioning the following two acts, they paused to add how freaking unreal it was that Passion Pit would be gracing the stage in less than two hours. “And how about Baths?” the band gingerly asked, “Also, did you take a bath before coming?” Star-struck banter aside, Radclyffe Hall earned their keep on the bill, showcasing a dark, Drive-soundtrack-worshipping brand of synth pop, matching a duo of incredibly talented female vocalists/keyboardists with flecks of Poliça in their phenomenal dual percussionists.
The best way to prepare yourself for a Baths show, it seems, is to absorb their older live videos around the time when singer Will Wiesenfeld had mutton chops (no, seriously.) Although no stranger to the Converse Rubber Tracks series or Boston in general, demands of longtime Baths favorite “Aminals” rang out as a clean shaven Wiesenfeld entered the stage. “Aminals” was not on the setlist, nor has been for quite some time, but what followed in its place was a far more muscular, spellbinding set of Obsidian cuts interspersed by modified Cerulean favorites. Wiesenfeld made his standard goofy observations between songs (“I totally hit the wrong note at the end of that last one…it’s alright, you probably didn’t notice”) but Baths evolved into a much darker force during “Ocean Death” as the singer howled “bury your body in my graveyard” with a frightening fury. While the dichotomy might’ve been a bit jarring for some of Passion Pit’s more pop-focused fans, Baths has cemented their name as one of the most important names in experimental electronic music.
If I need to explain who Passion Pit is in 2015, never mind in the band’s origin point of Cambridge, I have to assume you’re not from the area…or this planet really. Between soundtrack features on Gossip Girl, the FIFA games, and pretty much every commercial, Michael Angelakos is undoubtedly a powerhouse in crafting sugary, hook-laden synth pop that miraculously warms to the college set and corporate heads alike.
Surrounded by a new backing band donned in all black after severing ties with his former bandmates this past year, Angelakos was anything but mournful as opening song “Lifted Up (1985)” did everything its title suggests. “It means so, so much to be back here, Boston”, he added before dissolving into “Little Secrets” with an uncontainable grin. Yes, bands as big as Passion Pit are somewhat required to declare their love for every major city they tour, but Angelakos backed up his claim as he weaved around the incredibly tight stage with blinded joy.
Some bands would tensely test their new material as they work out their live form, but a hardly noticeable hiccup in Kindred’s “Five Foot Ten (I)” was met with Angelakos throwing his arms up in a half shrug/half air hug and yelling “Boston!” before diving back in. Surprises like throwing Chunk of Change’s “Better Things” in last minute came with as much celebration as the band’s masterfully reworked Gossamer and Manners hits (clear winner: “Constant Conversations”, which only needed a bit of reverb-heavy, Twin Peaks-aping guitar work to make it just the right balance of brooding and vaguely sexy.) Before closing with the habitual encore choice, “Sleepyhead,” Angelakos reminded the crowd that the song was written “not three blocks away from the venue”, validating the enthusiasm I began to feel about Converse’s ability to throw a free five day party without taking The Sinclair to the ground.
In fact, without a single drunken crowd surfer, overly obnoxious pusher or bad seat in the house, The Sinclair, Passion Pit and five hundred blissfully loud ticket winners might’ve have managed somewhat of a miracle in Cambridge last night.
