over the edge i can't stop myself

Ace of Spades was on the rock tourist list for Frightened Rabbit's last tour, three years ago. I even bought a ticket, but alas, it didn't work out. However, now with a new record from the band and a new recruit among friends, I had to go northward.

Frightened Rabbit, the Regency Ballroom, May 26, 2016: Rock tourism is no bother for me, but the drive up to Sacramento was one of the more exhausting journeys I've taken in a while. Granted, it was a holiday weekend, and I'm not generally used to traffic, and I saw four accidents along the way, but the four-hour drive (double the usual time in average conditions) was brutal. Luckily, I had left work early and was in no rush, but at least the first half of the trip put my, at worst, cross-town ventures in perspective.

Anyway, I had no doubt the drive would be worth it. Ace of Spades was a smaller, clubbier venue than the Regency in San Francisco; it reminded me of Slim's back in the city and probably a million other places around the country. Due to the limited real estate, the band stripped back their stage setup -- the backdrop (based on the album cover) was gone, and maybe some lights were left out. Overall, this is exactly my kind of venue, and sometimes you have to get behind the wheel to find the ones that remain.

Not surprising, the band stuck to mostly the same setlist, save for one track: the perennial favorite "Poke," which popped up again in Scott's solo portion, thanks to a fan request. Less successful was the fan somewhere in the crowd who yelled out repeatedly for "Swim." I assume he meant "Swim Until You Can't See Land," but Scott was not having it. He mentioned the fact that the band had already prepared a setlist, but besides, he confessed he couldn't remember it anyway. This didn't stop the guy, and the back and forth continued through the set.

At this point, I gotta figure it's part of the artist's MO -- maybe it's nice to have a foil and focal point for your banter. To my ears, Scott never crossed the line into outright annoyance, though he called the guy a cunt. Then again, if you know anything about Scottish insults, you know it's practically the first word young Scots learn. Perhaps to be on the safe side, Scott offered a quick lesson to the crowd on the Scottish lexicon.

The conversation between Scott and the concertgoer actually brought to mind one of my old rules of rock tourism: Go to the last show of the tour when you can. The band can often be looser, goosier, and generally more playful. Chalk it up to relief, weariness, burnout -- whatever. Quite often, it adds up to a memorable night.

I haven't seen a show in Sacramento for a while now, but it easily qualifies as a tertiary market, and you know how much I dig tertiary markets. The crowd was a little less familiar with the old tracks, and they couldn't sing as well as we did in San Francisco. But I love that Ace of Spades and Frightened Rabbit have taken a chance on each other. I hope they keep it going.

See also:
» there is light but there's a tunnel to crawl through
» found a vein and a pulse
» some people gonna get ideas

found a vein and a pulse

Frightened Rabbit is the last band (though hopefully not the last band) I fell in love with, and shocker -- I'm crazy about the new record. I could barely wait for Frightened Rabbit's return to San Francisco at the Regency Ballroom.

Frightened Rabbit, the Regency Ballroom, May 26, 2016: You gotta love a band that tours its heart out and brings the music to the people. After almost six weeks on the road to promote Painting of a Panic Attack, Frightened Rabbit closed out this leg on the West Coast, and early on, Scott referenced being tired. I'm not entirely sure I would've noticed it if he hadn't brought it up. As far as I could tell, the most revealing road tell was the size of their beards, because the weariness didn't show up in the music.

The band opened with the single (I guess -- I have no idea what qualifies as charts and airwaves and all the lingering details of terrestrial radio) "Get Out" and mixed it up with an evenhanded selection of songs from all but the first record. To tell you the truth, I was kind of surprised the tour was so light on new songs. In addition to "Get Out," the band played "Woke Up," "Break," "Lump Street," and "Die Like a Rich Boy" (the last one in Scott's customary acoustic segment). Personally, I would've loved to hear "An Otherwise Disappointing Life" or "Blood Under the Bridge," to name two, but maybe they'll get to those in subsequent visits.

However, that meant a lot of old favorites got their turn. "Modern Leper," "Fast Blood," "Heads Roll Off," and "State Hospital" were all there, and in fact, a few songs sounded slightly reworked. Most notable to me was "Old Old Fashioned," which sounded a little more like the version we heard on the Owl John tour. At the same time, I was curious to see which songs made the cut, and I'm pleased "Oil Slick" is still one of the favored tracks.

San Francisco has always offered a strong base of support for Frightened Rabbit. The band has put in a ton of work into shows in the city, but I feel their efforts have been rewarded with well-attended and enthusiastic shows. Tonight, I think we gave it back with a wonderful sing-along to "Keep Yourself Warm." Our voices serenaded the band and punched the money lines ("you won't find love in/won't find love in a hole/it takes more than fucking someone/to keep yourself warm"). Was it good for them? Because it was great for us.



As mentioned above, Scott has retained his solo segment, but it was now only two songs before the band returned for "The Woodpile." Good news for both show veterans and newbies alike: The band has kept its traditional closer of "The Loneliness and the Scream," which when it comes down to it is the only true wish list item I needed. How is that not a football anthem in Scotland? Or is it? Anyway, it needs to happen. Get on it, Tartan Army.

Meanwhile, we have your back in San Francisco, Frightened Rabbit.

See also:
» let's get old fashioned
» her heart beats like a breezeblock

there is light but there's a tunnel to crawl through

This concert report was supposed to have been accompanied by a write-up of Frightened Rabbit's gig in Sacramento. Alas, that didn't work out, and my quest to see this hard-working and well-traveled band in a tertiary market has been foiled again. Lucky for me they're drawn back to San Francisco time and time again, on this occasion landing at the Warfield.

Frightened Rabbit, the Warfield, September 30, 2013: I was a borderline basket case after Frightened Rabbit's last show in town. I didn't want to hear a note from any other band, I was YouTubing their performances like a maniac, and the search for live material took up a significant segment of my day. I may have also attempted (oh god) to mimic their accents when singing certain songs. I was, in essence, my 12-year-old self, if the same technology had been available when I was growing up.



My ardor cooled slightly in the intervening six months, probably for the better; those levels aren't sustainable. In addition, it was an emotional weekend, with the end of the Giants' baseball season and of Breaking Bad descending on the same day. As a matter of fact, I almost forgot my ticket at home on the morning of the gig, which goes to show you where my mind had wandered. The awesome thing about music, though, is that it takes a mere riff to snap your thoughts back in place, and a few days on from the concert, I've returned to that semi-weepy state at the sweep of "Good Arms vs. Bad Arms" or "Swim Until You Can't See Land" -- neither of which were even played at the show.

The band opened with "Holy," as they did back in March, but in the bigger venue, the effect wasn't quite as foreboding, as the smoke and fog dissipated into the high ceilings. One song in, and Scott was already talking to us about his pre-show nap and its accompanying effect, comparing himself to a newborn baby pulled out of the darkness and emerging as the center of attention. Er, look for a track titled "Siesta Rebirth" on the next Frightened Rabbit album?



In fact, Scott was in a talkative mood tonight. Also early in the show, he shared a story about some assholes in Calgary who requested "The Twist" all night because the song was playing when they crashed their boat. I'll give you a second to suppress the wave of nausea surely washing over you right now.

Later, he professed his love for Game of Thrones, but anyone who follows Frightened Rabbit's Twitter feed already knows of that obsession. He also promised to play a lot of songs, as this would be their last tour for a little while, which is always bittersweet news when you're smitten with a band. Logically, you know it's good and necessary, especially if you want to hear new music from the group, but selfishly, you want them to play your town, say, once a quarter (trying not to be selfish here).

Overall, the band stuck with the core setlist that's characterized most of the last year of shows, highlighting tracks from Pedestrian Verse but with a number of unexpected additions. One of those surprises came early, as they rolled out "Music Now" from Sing the Greys, though Scott couldn't count himself among the fans of that record. The band did it anyway, a relatively simple and straightforward track compared to the emotional epics they're better known for these days.



A few songs later, Scott, Grant, and Gordon gathered onstage for a new song, the aforementioned Game of Thrones-inspired track. Scott offered another glimpse into his thought processes as he explained how the machinations depicted on the show could be inspirational, moving you to go for what you want -- minus the violence (and dragons?), of course. I'm not sure how the lovely acoustic "Candlelit" would go over in Westeros, but at the Warfield, it was a haunting showcase of their harmonies and songwriting. (Note: I've never watched Game of Thrones.)

Scott was left on his own for his acoustic segment, this time comprising three whole songs instead of the single track we heard at the Fillmore. Scott asked for requests to kick off, but as expected, the actual song titles were buried in a barrage of voices. A new friend managed to get in "Poke" at exactly the right moment. Scott heard it and jumped in, but there was no way he wasn't going to do that song, for good reason. It's an all-time classic track with great bones: a deceptively simple melody, pinpoint lyrics, and candid delivery. As long as people have their hearts broken, "Poke" will enjoy its spot on playlists the world over. Afterward, Scott remarked it may have been his favorite performance of the song yet. Perhaps he says that in a lot of towns, but as with most of Frightened Rabbit's music, I'm willing to accept the sincerity.

The second song was all Scott, as he chose "Scottish Winds," giving away the band's homesickness. The acoustic set concluded with "Late March, Death March," a much more spontaneous selection and a performance that convinced me to revisit the tune.



I'm loathe to dictate a band's setlist (a la the assholes in Calgary), but by the same token, I really want to hear certain songs. With Frightened Rabbit, "Fast Blood" is one of them, and I was elated by its return to the setlist, orgasmic entendres and all. In fact, those older songs continue to mesmerize: "The Modern Leper," "My Backwards Walk," "Old Old Fashioned," to name a few. Now I can add "State Hospital" and "Oil Slick" among others to that list. "Oil Slick" in particular has snuck up on me; with its slinky guitar and rising coda, it'd be a huge pop hit in my alternate universe.

The band closed with the trifecta of "The Woodpile," "Keep Yourself Warm," and "The Loneliness and the Scream." With "Keep Yourself Warm," Scott explained how they were trying not to play it for a year, but eventually gave in -- a smart move. It's a favorite for a reason, not least because of the blunt sexual imagery and searing, highly repeatable lines ("You won't find love in a hole" and "It takes more than fucking someone/to keep yourself warm"), and it never fails to inspire a visceral response in the audience. There's an amazing video on YouTube of the crowd doing all the work for Scott in an intimate hometown show; I don't think we get anywhere near the Scottish fans' connection, but every time I've seen the band, we make a decent effort.



I kind of want to go into an extended treatise on the song's shift from a hymn to a highland wail to an anthem to a disco track (a similarly dancey beat takes over in the last third of "The Twist," by the way), only to double back on itself, but I'm not qualified to do so. I also want to remark that the brothers' bond might be one of the reasons the drums and percussion more prominently anchor the band's songs as opposed to other acoustic/songwriter-based setups, but that too is beyond my abilities. However, I will note that tonight in the instrumental apex of the song, Scott quoted from the song itself and not another artist's work, unlike at previous shows.

Speaking of visceral tracks, "The Loneliness and the Scream" was the closer I wanted to hear, mostly for the screaming part. That song is pure release, whether you're tuned into the driving rhythm or the echoing calls. The opening band the Augustines returned to the stage to shout and drum and hug and jump and drink -- all completely valid reactions to this powerhouse.



Before I finish up, I need to note a few more aspects to this show. The Warfield was perhaps half full for this show; the floor was brimming with fans, but not uncomfortably so, while the balcony was at a fraction of capacity. You can point to several reasons why: This was the band's third visit (by my count) to San Francisco in less than 12 months, there was no real new material to promote, it was a Monday night, and this is a heavy concert season. The turnout didn't seem to faze the band, but it did make me wonder where the new fans will come from next.

For instance, Frightened Rabbit just toured with the National, but I've heard barely a peep about the reaction to the openers. Heck, I'm guilty of the same (I don't really have time to write about the Augustines, except to say that I've never seen anyone so happy to play the Warfield as the lead singer, who grew up in the area), but a part of me was hoping they'd get a little more recognition for all their time on the road. With a solid fan base, a new record, and (one hopes) growing exposure, Frightened Rabbit will surely fill up the Warfield -- or better yet, do two shows at the Fillmore -- eventually, but tonight's gig served as a reminder to keep expectations intact. I've seen enough U.K. bands unable to gain a foothold in the United States that the sight of a underpopulated hall gives me pause.



Finally, I managed to be one of the 20 fans who ordered tickets fast enough to get into the meet and greet before the show. We ended up watching about 40 minutes of the soundcheck, which was simultaneously cool and banal, as is the case with most soundchecks. The actual meeting and greeting followed, and I can't stress enough how lovely they were to everyone. I realize it's not the most natural environment, but the band was nothing short of humble and gracious. I actually left while most of the fans were still there, and I have no idea how much longer they stayed. My earlier question about where the fans will come from? This wasn't a bad way to sew up the faithful.

To the Scots: Please come back soon, as often as you'd like. For anyone else who might be reading: This is a band to treasure.

Thanks to the contributors at setlist.fm for their work on the setlist for the Warfield show.

See also:
» lots to do with magnets and the pull of the moon
» we adopt a brand-new language
» let's get old fashioned
» before i change my mind

lots to do with magnets and the pull of the moon

Now that I go to fewer concerts than before, I feel like a teacher who gives every student a gold star. There's a good chance I'm going to swoon over every show I see in the foreseeable future, but certain bands still loom so large that the pre- and post-gig roller-coaster practically hurts. Count Frightened Rabbit in that category with their return to the Fillmore.

Frightened Rabbit, The Fillmore, March 11, 2013: Frightened Rabbit has been messing with my first impressions lately. The initial listen of the new record Pedestrian Verse had me thinking, "Whoa, that's big production!" (This is your brain on Largo.) And at the band's return to the Fillmore, the stage setup -- complete with crosses and an active fog machine -- had me wondering whether Madonna's "Like a Prayer" video would break out at some point. I eventually stood corrected on both counts, as I recalled Frightened Rabbit has never shied from a cavernous sound artfully married to kitchen-sink-drama-style lyrics. Also, the midshow dance break turned out to be a tribute to "Lucky Star." (Kidding!)



You could argue the Fillmore has hosted any number of religious experiences, but Frightened Rabbit may have put a fine point on it with the opener "Holy." The ecclesiastical feel returned later with "My Backwards Walk," which descended like an ancient hymn. In between, there were plenty more transcendent moments.

Predictably, I'll call out the somewhat abbreviated acoustic segment, featuring "Poke," which will never not be a jaw-dropping showstopper. The sold-out crowd remained respectably hushed throughout Scott's solo performance -- perhaps to a fault. I would've loved to hear the audience contributing to the cooing between verses, but I'm probably being too picky. Besides, it cast Scott's keening, piercing calls in even starker and more poignant contrast. The band plugged back in soon thereafter, albeit in waves, for the ever graceful "Good Arms vs. Bad Arms," aka the band's waltz. (This is your brain on Largo, part two.)

Not that the show was all sacred (sacrilegious?) and solemn -- barely one song in, a guy in the audience requested "Fast Blood." Scott shot it down immediately, though with tons of charm -- or maybe that's the accent. I nursed a hope that Scott was joking, but alas, he was telling the truth.

Isn't that always the case, though? Blink, and all of a sudden, your beloved band has four whole albums and an honest-to-god catalog that can't possibly be sandwiched into a single night's gig. Instead, you learn to treasure those old songs, whether in their faithful forms or reinvented anew. Seriously, how come I never recognized the pure pop of "Swim Until You Can't See Land" (even if we apparently couldn't sing it as well as Seattle) and "Nothing Like You" before? For shame! Meanwhile, the agitated angst of "The Modern Leper" and the country stomp of "Old Old Fashioned" hit the exact right spots.

It wouldn't be a rock show without confessions of love from the audience. Of course, Scott's admirer turned out to be a guy, which the singer took in stride. The band was smitten in its own way as well, as Scott once again raved over the Fillmore, where he's now clocked four appearances. Let's hope they add to that tally over the years.

The new songs sounded great too, particularly "State Hospital" and "Acts of Man," complete with spazz-out coda and strobe lights that helped justify the band's relatively theatrical stage set. Oh, and extra points to the girl behind me who called for "Oil Slick" at the exact right moment before the band broke into it.

The band closed with an especially upbeat encore, punctuated with the extra drums on "The Loneliness and the Scream." If I'm going to have anything approaching a hooligan-like experience, this is how I want it to happen: through the music of one of the best bands going.

I'm not one for regrets, but I'm disappointed in myself for missing so many Frightened Rabbit shows in the Bay Area -- even as recently as last fall. This band seems to move people in a way I haven't witnessed often, and it's a privilege to be in that mix every time. Sure, I've seen hysteria and adulation, as well as manufactured hype, and I admit I'm fully biased, having boarded the Frightened Rabbit train the first time I saw them in concert.

But Frightened Rabbit has a certain something -- whether it's talent, charm, skill, conviction, dedication, honesty, or some combination of those and other attributes I can't name -- that doesn't necessarily translate directly to record sales or venue capacities. Instead, you hear it in the singalongs and declarations ("They are so good") from the likes of a woman behind me. I figured she was a first-time concertgoer, but this repeat (even if not enough times for my tastes) fan wouldn't have said it any different.

Three band members represented as fellow Scots Twilight Sad opened for Frightened Rabbit. As much as I love the idea of the Twilight Sad, I haven't been able to get into their music. No matter, though -- they too were in great spirits to be at the Fillmore with their friends. Honestly, there are a lot worse ways to kick off a show.



Setlist

See also:
» we adopt a brand-new language
» let's get old fashioned
» before i change my mind

we adopt a brand-new language

In all my years of reading UK music magazines, the question of British bands breaking America came up regularly, despite the indifference of all but the most rabid Anglophiles over here. If the question still arises, music writers across the Atlantic might be heartened to know the United Kingdom seems to be enjoying another good run, if Frightened Rabbit's show at the Fillmore is any indication.

Frightened Rabbit, the Fillmore, May 19, 2010: You wouldn't necessarily know it from the initial dribble of fans into the Fillmore, but Frightened Rabbit's debut at this hallowed hall was a bona fide success. Tickets were still available when doors opened, but according to one of the security guys, the gig was nearly sold out. Now we know why the band could stop in at the Rickshaw Stop--and why posters were handed out after the show.

When you see any number of consecutive shows by a band or performer, you inevitably compare the differences between each night and sometimes ask whether it's worth it to attend the shows. This is no shocker coming from me, but in Frightened Rabbit's case, I can answer without hesitation: Yes, it's worth it.

Of course, it helps that two different premises anchored the shows; at the Rickshaw Stop, we got the acoustic side, whereas the band plugged in for the Fillmore. Technically, the only difference I noticed was Scott Hutchinson's use of electric guitar, as opposed to the acoustic model he sported the night before. From what I could tell, everyone else in the band used the exact same equipment as they had for the earlier gig. Dig a little deeper, though, and it turned out they had put together a different setlist for the night. This wasn't some cookie-cutter excursion.



But oh, what a difference one guitar makes! Because with it came volume and, in turn, intensity. Hey, I like delicate, lovelorn ballads as much as the next person, but a girl can't live on sensitive sonnets alone. Luckily for me, Frightened Rabbit can do both.

The harmonies I mentioned in my previous post remained intact, but now they were accompanied by roaring riffs, as well as another element I couldn't have predicted: a vociferous crowd. You'd think that the audience would be more of a factor at the smaller gig, but as it turned out, the enthusiasm was more apparent here and came closer to the levels I heard at the Independent last year. Maybe the bigger room better suits the intensity of their songs; maybe it's strength in numbers. Whatever the case, I sensed a unity that wasn't readily apparent the night before.



As a result, we witnessed what felt like a more proper gig, with slightly less horsing around and an emphatic focus on the music. However, it's hard to extinguish the band's self-deprecating and playful nature, so we still got some banter. Among other quips, Scott urged us to grope each other during "The Twist," informed us that "Swim Until You Can't See Land" was inspired by a movie with one of the Olsen twins (not New York Minute), and heard plenty of awestruck remarks about the Fillmore itself. Scott also declared the night's version of "Poke" the best he's ever played. From this side of the barrier, I couldn't agree more.

My night was in every way complete by the time the band hit their traditional closer "Keep Yourself Warm," but they had to gild the lily and make me want to take them home for scones and tea all over again. I'll admit that this tiny detail might've bypassed me altogether if Julie hadn't brought it to my attention, but as he had done the night before, Scott quoted from another song for the tune's coda. We couldn't quite peg the previous night's reference, but this one I knew well. Over the ending, he repeated the line "I am trying to break your heart." Granted, no one has a trademark on that combination of words, but in this context, I think it points to only one source--coincidentally, my favorite band in the world. Believe me, the waterworks commenced!

The bottom line: If you wanted a killer setlist, the Rickshaw Stop was the place to be. If you're looking for a big, full set, the Fillmore was your spot. Personally, I see no reason to choose between the two.

See also:
» let's get old fashioned
» before i change my mind

let's get old fashioned

I have no intentions of giving up rock tourism, but if it ever comes to pass, at least I know my hometown ranks up there in terms of cool gigs and uncommon engagements, such as Frightened Rabbit's acoustic show at the Rickshaw Stop.

Frightened Rabbit, Rickshaw Stop, May 18, 2010: I like to think I've disabused myself of many rock 'n' roll myths, but I reserve the right to cling to certain beliefs. Chief among them is the idea that the best musicians place playing live on par with breathing and need to gig at least as much as--or maybe more than--we need to see them.

Oh sure, I know live shows are more often than not where bands make money. Also, you couldn't pay me to listen to some of rock's so-called road warriors. But dammit if it doesn't warm my heart when musicians carve out another live date when they could be lollygagging around town--and bonus points for those musicians who promise to go through more than the de rigueur promotional motions.

Which brings us to Frightened Rabbit and the group's somewhat slapdash acoustic gig at Rickshaw Stop, a day ahead of their first ever gig at the Fillmore. Lead singer Scott Hutchinson reminded us as much in his early remarks, requesting that we take it easy on them, as they still considered it their day off. He hardly needed to; if they were firing on anything less than all cylinders, the mind boggles on what they'd pull off at full throttle. Rather, the band hit songs old and new, chatted amiably, attempted an unexpected cover--and made it clear they could become the next world-changing band if they keep crafting such majestic, momentous songs.



You can say this gig boasted two atypical angles: the acoustic setup and the intimate surroundings. I normally eat up any show that can claim either credential, so you can imagine what the combination does to me--and you'd be right. Frightened Rabbit would have to fuck up big time to ruin this concert, but of course that didn't happen in the least.

Frightened Rabbit pulls few (if any stops) in its music; in any arrangement, their songs deliver a full load of petty tiffs, ugly grudges, and shameful urges. But compared to their plugged-in equivalents, which can sweep you up in their bombast and ferocity, their works when rendered acoustically leave you no choice but to hear the words, contemplate the events that inspired them, and possibly admit to nursing some of the same thoughts. Not that it was anything approaching gloom and doom--even in this supposedly laid-back environment, they were relentless, and their undeniable ardor came through.

The show was filled with highlight after highlight, but several moments stood out among the multiple crescendos. Early in the show, when the band broke out in layered harmonies for "Good Arms vs. Bad Arms," it hit me that I could be witnessing the future biggest group in the world. It's only a matter of time before these songs are accompanied by thousands of voices singing along.



As if we weren't already insanely grateful to the show's promoters for bringing Frightened Rabbit to the Rickshaw Stop, their cred jumped another notch when Scott opened the encore by granting their request: the National's "Fake Empire," leading into "Poke." Granted, the intention may have been more commendable than the execution, but the gesture did not go unnoticed. Also, given the circumstances, no one could fault Scott for using a lyric sheet with this one-off.

From there, Scott ushered in the "request-o-matic" section and gamely carried out the audience suggestions he could hear. The guy in front of me got in a great one with "Head Rolls Off." Additionally, extra credit goes to his friend, who noted that the band played "Be Less Rude" at their show at the Independent last year--not, in fact, for the first time in three years as Scott claimed.

In the midst of their typically passionate performance, the band showed a lighter side, bantering easily and glibly about the club's rules (specifically the $300 penalty for shitting in the dressing room), urging us to help ourselves to the bucket of Voodoo Doughnuts transported directly from the Portland landmark, and gulping down the Hamm's beer provided. I've never subscribed to the theory that you have to be miserable to make miserable (in the best way possible) music, and I'd challenge anyone to take in a show of this quality and disagree.

Update: Check out the video of the show!


Full setlist.

See also:
» we adopt a brand-new language
» before i change my mind

before i change my mind

Blame all those years of listening to critical punching bags for developing my tin ear to music reviews. Fortunately, I have friends who don't rest on their musical laurels, who recognize the haphazard potpourri that comprises my musical tastes, and whose opinions I respect. Thanks to everyone who's urged Frightened Rabbit on me over the last year. Your patience and your prescience have won out.

Frightened Rabbit, the Independent, September 18, 2009: We music nerds sometimes like to say that the best tunes reveal themselves on their own schedule, and titles that take weeks, months, or however long to take hold can offer the biggest reward. I can think of numerous examples of this credo, but on the other hand, there's something to be said for the immediate hook and instant appeal. Count Frightened Rabbit among the latter.



I don't know why some bands click, but I know when it does. Not a minute into Frightened Rabbit's show, I was hooked. The pealing guitar, the galloping rhythm, and the hints of melody, all before the vocals arrived, reeled me in, but you also sensed that these disparate elements were deployed in the service of something greater--and that you'd be a fool to miss it.

Simply, Frightened Rabbit rocked it, supplementing that initial blast of amazement with powerful aftershocks. Though the band's passion planted you in the moment, I couldn't help pondering what else would be possible for the group. The music could--and will, I'm sure--easily fill spaces much larger than the Independent. And if tonight's audience was any indication, the band can look forward to even more support and goodwill from their fans, perhaps through singing along, clapping in time, or shouting out names of Scottish football clubs, as was the case tonight.

Here's an advantage to attending a show as an impartial observer (or as impartial as you can be when you've paid for a ticket): It's not just your personal infatuation talking when you sense a band's sway over an audience. From the get go, the fans were in lock step with the band. Though they couldn't exactly help themselves during some of the quiet parts--such as the first song of the encore, lead singer Scott Hutchinson's solo acoustic take on "Poke," sans amplification (I love that shit)--their eagerness was neither obnoxious nor desperate. Rather, it felt like the natural expression of their desire to join in, no matter how off-key their contribution.

This ardor was put to better use on the final song, "Keep Yourself Warm," when the lyrics echoed through the club, aided and abetted by the crowd's roaring accompaniment. It's the kind of loyalty you rarely see for such a young band, and it's not hard to predict great things for them.

Filling out the bill with Frightened Rabbit were two other Scottish bands, Twilight Sad and We Were Promised Jetpacks. In addition to their provenance, they shared some surface similarities, but they were far from cookie-cutter clones. True, all three upheld the fine Scottish tradition of falling far short of fashionable--in the best way possible--but whereas Twilight Sad orbited the moodier, more impressionistic end of the spectrum, We Were Promised Jetpacks wore their earnestness even more blatantly than Frightened Rabbit.

Is it too much to ask? Can't I be guaranteed a new band to fall in love with every 12 to 18 months and to be reminded that not all fledgling groups have to be so predictably derivative? For now, yes, and Frightened Rabbit is keeping that hope alive.