The Walkmen Incite Slap Fight

Phoenix Concert Theatre

Toronto, ON

on Jun 27 2006

Leah Collins (CHARTattack)

06/28/2006 3:30pm

On paper, The Walkmen are your prototypical early 21st century rock band.

Their songs sell family sedans, their friends are of the MySpace variety and they've rubbed shoulders with young Hollywood on The O.C. Listen to their music — particularly 2002's Bows And Arrows and this year's A Hundred Miles Off — and "modern" isn't the first word that comes to mind. Full of echoing saloon-style piano and organ, it seems that everything old-timey is new again.

So when The Walkmen visited Toronto's Phoenix Concert Theatre, it was no particular surprise that the show had a certain vaudevillian flair, especially in the early hours of the evening. When first opener Rockwell (and no, he didn't write "Somebody's Watching Me") lumbered on stage — a refrigerator-sized fellow with a handlebar moustache and man-in-black get-up — nobody knew what to expect. What they got was stand-up style banter, iPod-accompanied guitar licks and whip-cracking tricks.

"When did this become a variety hour?" chuckled one fan as Rockwell cleared a ring on the near-empty floor to (unsuccessfully) demonstrate his whip skills.

After Rockwell left the stage, the variety hour moved into its second act. This time, the vaudeville schtick was courtesy Richard Swift and his four-piece backing band. More than a few couldn't help but sway to Swift's non-stop romantic ragtime-y melodies, later picking up copies of his Richard Swift Collection Vol. 1 LP to crackle out of their home phonographs.

But the beauty of Swift's set was how the musical anachronism wasn't just by way of the '20s. The speakeasy sound came via '60s sun-drenched melodies, T-Rex-reminiscent rock and just a hint of Burt Bacharach. But for all the time travelling, the sound was brought back to the present with the urgency of a live rock performance, with a few quiet, vocodered "thank-yous" in between. But since those actual vaudeville times, one thing's remained true: the audience only wants to cheer the headliner.

After a split-second of the rattling intro to The Walkmen's "All Hands And The Cook," squeals erupted, until frontman Hamilton Leithauser's voice overpowered them all. His voice grated fiercely on every missed high note. But with his teeth bared, his eyes sharp and his hand like a claw ready to rip the mic MC-style, you wouldn't dare call him on it. He's frightening, exciting and he screamed like the devil. Who knew Satan wore Lacoste?

The songs, more old than new, came quick and ferocious. The band only paused long enough for Leithauser to scratch his head or take a long swig from his Heineken. They built up the drama by flashing white lights during "Emma, Get Me A Lemon" and "Lost In Boston," during which drummer Matt Barrick sprung back and forth like a deranged jack-in-the-box.

Car commercial hit "We've Been Had" was the first song to start a mini-riot. Paul Maroon's echoing intro solo of spiralling piano ignited the audience and an out-of-control slap fight broke out at the front of the stage. Leithauser seemed to resist launching into the lilting melody, keeping his back turned from the audience and hands jammed in pockets for the first few bars. And of all the songs, it seemed to be the only one the band couldn't wait to be finished with.

Even one-hit-wonder-threat "The Rat," which was played before set closer "Louisiana," got full marks for effort, though maybe they were just inspired by the pack of would-be groupies who came down for that number to writhe and throw daisies from the front. It was hard to miss the grins exchanged between Maroon and bassist Pete Bauer at the sight of them. But the only thing the band were going to give back right then was rock. Two encores later, Toronto still wanted more.