Death Cab For Cutie, Astoria, London, February 28th 2006.
A palpable expectation looms over the dank, beer-sodden Astoria. It’s electric. The crowd? Eclectic. The pubescent or even pre kids look like they are going to shit themselves – remember your first gig? The lipstick lashed, coiffed, posh set fumble with pashminas and Louis Vuitton handbags – surely there was room on the Mastercard for the cloakroom fee? Perhaps this was their first gig too, lured here to see “That band from the OC”. Huddles of seasoned indie types take up position in the wings to feign disinterest in the Seattle Emo rockers. It’s taken Death Cab five albums and their latest and largest selling to date Plans to sell out two consecutive nights at the Astoria but finally the tears start jerking.
Singer Ben Gibbard, of slightly larger proportions than expected, opens what will turn out to be a faultless hour-and-a-half set with ‘Marching Bands of Manhattan’ and the hardcore fans go berserk for the indie pop quartet of the moment. It seems the UK following the band has amassed over the years is all here tonight: perfect lyrics are screamed back at sweat-drenched Gibbard and chatter between songs is in adulation of the four men on stage. Despite the stuttering introduction, proof of their nervousness of playing to 1000-plus fans – Death Cab were slow burners and thought it would always remain this way – Gibbard gains in confidence and noticing the glo-sticks in the front couple of rows, asks if they’ve been to any good raves recently, to which he then quips “Any rave with a glo-stick is a good one!” The crowd roars. You always know a true fan when they laugh at their lead man even when they’re not actually funny.
Each song is loved and cheered with adoring enthusiasm: the hardcore soak up every single sugar-dusted utterance to lost love and drowned sorrows. ‘The New Year’, first track from the Transatlanticism album lifts many a fan onto the shoulders of another and with lighters ablaze, the crowd carries Plans number ‘What Sarah Said’ right through to that song’s incredibly emotive finale “So who’s going to watch you die?” Magical. You would be forgiven for thinking this was the band’s trump card, but more was yet to come. Hands are clasped to face during the gentle opening bars of ‘Different Names For The Same Thing’ in eagerness of its epic chorus. We were not disappointed. The setlist seems perfectly constructed; every song is more powerful than its predecessor. Take set-closer ‘The Sound of Settling’, where an extra drumkit is rolled on stage. Instruments outnumber musicians but this is a band that doesn’t need 7 or 10 members to deliver its tremendous sound.
Highlight of the entire gig comes during the encore when Gibbard, seated on a stool stage right, holds the audience in the palm of his hand during his acoustic rendition of ‘I Will Follow You Into The Dark’. Me, I thought this was Plans’ weakest track, let down by a couple of cringey lyrics but everyone around clearly believes otherwise as they echo every word back to the solitary Gibbard, even the cringey ones.
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