Clap Your Hands Say Yeah Commit Some Loud Blunder

This hurts, it really does. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah are a band you love to cheer for. They've self-released two stellar records to critical and fan acclaim and they've garnered a pretty noteworthy live reputation.

Sadly, on this night it just wasn't meant to be. Sound problems and an oversized venue crippled the fivesome from Brooklyn by way of Philadelphia. Happily, though, it didn't seem to make a lick of difference to the assembled masses. The band could've crapped on stage and people would have clapped.

When it comes down to it, the mostly full Kool Haus was an overly ambitious venue for Clap Your Hands. No matter how hard they tried, the band couldn't fill the stage. With group members strewn all over the vast expanse of the dais, their ramshackle, lovable indie rock lost its intimate charm. Couple that with a kick-drum that was so sharp and thick it clobbered nearly every other instrument and vocal, and you get an idea of the mire the crowd found themselves in.

With lead singer Alec Ounsworth looking every bit the modern day Dylan in his poor-boy cap and vest, CYHSY loaded their set with cuts from their self-titled debut, seemingly more so than this year's Some Loud Thunder. "Is This Love" got some well-deserved rhythmic fist-pumping, and the dirty bassline on "Gimme Some Salt" managed to cut through some of the aural mess the band were saddled with.

Oddly enough, CYHSY seemed hell-bent on killing any crowd momentum, no matter how generous folks were. There were long breaks between songs filled with compelling banter like Ounsworth narrating a guitar tuning: "Red, green, red, green." Great stuff, really top notch.The crowd refused to accept the letdown. During a boisterous version of "Satan Said Dance," there were some folks who not only danced, but did it while perched on each other's shoulders. I think chemicals probably played more of a role than Beelzebub in getting these kids to move, but either way, it's always nice to see people having a great time.

By the time the band had flown through their first nine songs I was starting to get a little perturbed by Ounsworth's voice. Yeah, it's nasal, and he has this ability to bleed his lyrics into one long conflagration of syllables, but at points it was so high-pitched it was like Minnie Mouse fronting the Talking Heads. It was just one hurdle after another for these guys.

There were some outright bright spots. When members of Elvis Perkins' band took up their horns to the left of Ounsworth, "Goodbye To Mother And The Cove" mutated into a seven-minute swelling jam that bore a startling resemblance to Broken Social Scene's "It's All Gonna Break," complete with all the militaristic drum rolls and big guitars BSS are so fond of. This show could have been so much better with a couple of simple soundboard tweaks and/or a wholesale shift in venue, but instead it was a muddy, disconnected affair, a disappointment for anyone who's seen the band before. I guess it's one of those "you can't win 'em all" situations.