Silversun Pickups @ The Empty Bottle 10/20/06

Thirty seconds into Silversun Pickups’ show, it stops. Flooded in blue, red, and green stage lights, the Pickups’ guitarist/vocalist Brian Aubert speaks sarcastically into his mike, "Helloooo, hello Joe?" to keyboardist Joe Lester, who has stopped the show because his monitors aren’t working. Three minutes later and we’re back on track, and there’s no turning back.

The Empty Bottle is a dinky pub from the outside, with only a lonely Old Style neon sign and the phrase "Friendly Dancing" to attract customers. And yet within twenty minutes the place is packed to the brim, and even then more people are ushered in. At least 200 college students and young workers in collared shirts lounge their way in front of the stage, where L.A.’s indie/alternative/shoegaze group Silversun Pickups is setting up. Three figures haul equipment onstage as a darkly dressed bearded member pushes past me, holding as many Old Styles as possible. Brian Aubert jumps up on stage, dispenses the necessarily refreshment to his bandmates, and straps on his guitar.

Formed in 2000, it took the band five years to get out their first release, the Pikul EP which was followed up by the masterpiece album, Carnavas. Taking cues from alternative acts like The Smashing Pumpkins and throwing in bits of My Bloody Valentine, the Pickups deliver a brand of rock on their recordings that drip of solid influences and their own originality. Vocalist Aubert’s softly comforting voice can give way to pained yelling at any point, giving songs like "Kissing Families" and "Future Foe Scenarios" heavy emotional weight and sweeping climaxes. In other words, these guys (and gal) are good, which is why 200 college kids have showed up to watch them.

The Pickups rip into their set with their album opener, "Melatonin" (or "Addicted to Wee Things in Life") and immediately the only people moving in this crowd are the few frat boys in front, who have obviously been spending the day preparing (and drinking) for this moment. The Pickups, who are no strangers to live performances (that five year gap was spent exclusively playing clubs) are unfazed by the lack of enthusiasm from the Chicago crowd. Aubert’s voice is barely distinguishable above his distorted guitar as keyboardist Lester puffs on his first (but certainly not last) cigarette of the evening. Bassist Nikki Monninger bounces along with the beat in a flowery purple dress as drummer Christopher Guanlao disappears in a mess of his own hair and arms.

Aubert takes a minute to smirk at the audience, his black hair already drenched with sweat, before ripping into "Well Thought Out Twinkles," their most Pumpkin-esque piece that they intend to deliver at double speed. Red lighting smears the enthusiastic musicians and casts an eerie light over the packed crowd, who are finally bobbing their heads. The pounding bass drum and snappy snares send shock waves through the floor and into your chest, visibly shaking the glasses of Old Style and their owners. "Twinkles" crashes to a feedback-filled halt to a plethora of cheers.

"Comeback Kid!" someone yells to Aubert’s laughter. He shakes his head, and another yells with first in air, "Silver-SON!"

"Heh, yeah, I know those guys." Aubert coyly answers, and as if in the same motion kicks off "Rusted Wheel," another track off Carnavas featuring his sweetly hypnotizing vocals. "I can tell it's winter from the / Size of the lump in my throat," sings Aubert - eyes closed as if in his own world - over a watery ethereal instrumental backing, "And it feels just like the ground / But trapped in another way."

"Little Lover’s So Polite" comes with a speedy guitar solo that puts the album version to shame, giving way to a naked chorus sung by Monninger: "Broke remains, an everyday disguise / Ending in the same way. . .the same way," and ending with Aubert falling to the floor. In between songs the band describes what they plan to do on their two day break of tour ("Conjugal visits with loved ones, they better be ready…it’s goin’ be dark stuff"), poking fun at audience members ("Is this DeKalb or…?") and plugging Monninger’s kissing booth in back ("Whore yourself out…gotta’ get the gas money") they open into their heaviest piece, "Future Foe Scenarios."

The most diverse song, and the one that I personally feel shows the most depth from the Pickups, "Future Foe" features dramatic choruses with heavily crescendoed instrumentals, giving all the more power to Aubert’s strained and rebellious vocal screams. "This revolution baby / Proves who you work for lately," sends chills through any spine, even in the humid and smoke-filled conditions at the Empty Bottle. The power of seeing Aubert clench his eyelids shut as he repeats "It’s alright" combined with the sickly pale stage lights let the viewer know it’s anything but. "That's when it turned on me / Where bobby pins hold angel wings." The lyrical might of Silversun Pickups should not be underestimated. Their instrumentals may get them the attractive labels, but their deep lyrics keep listeners coming back for more.

To the general relief of the crowd, "Kissing Families" off the Pikul EP is finally played. The instrumentals - and the entire crowd - are suddenly silent for Aubert and Monninger’s brief duet, "This could be / The bitter end." Casting a forlorn look at the crowd Aubert shrugs a "Who cares?" before crashing into another blistering guitar solo that again, leaves him on the floor. The college students can stand it no longer, and begin bouncing around as much as the front-row-frats.

"Kissing Families" melds into the similar "Lazy Eye" (or "How to Relate and Love Through Slight Malfunction") that finds Aubert glued with his mouth to the mike. The room is fully moving now, threatening to become a mosh-pit (which in this crowded area means that most of us will certainly die), and is only halted when Aubert falls to the floor for a third time. This time he rolls into the audience, and delivers two minutes of feedback mess from this roost.

The Pickups say their good-bye’s before closing the evening with "Common Reactor," a masterpiece of lyrical might that gets the entire front row to block the view of the stage with outstretched arms. Exhaustedly, Aubert sings out "Cuz maybe if we’re loud we’ll stay alive / While everybody wants to join the fight…But even if we barricade the door and seal it with the blood found on the floor / We’re always going to cross the finish line / While everybody wants to run and hide." Lester sucks on one last cigarette as Guanlao physically destroys himself smashing the drumheads, and Monninger smiles innocently at the crowd. Just before they finish in a final quip, the Pickups blow everyone’s ear-drums with voluptuous amounts of feedback.

200 college students wander wide-eyed into the chill Chicago weather, half-deaf and exhausted. With their brilliantly layered instrumentals and innovative lyrics, the Silversun Pickups have effortlessly devoured yet another city.

(Published at ComfortComes.com)
(Featured at Filter Magazine's Tour Blog)