The Skinny Tie Report: Art Brut - We Are Scientists - The Spinto Band @ The Social, Orlando, Florida

poster by Betamike

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Flashback to April of this year and a svelt (more so than today) Betamike was boogying down to the fey glam pop sounds of Scissor Sisters in the California desert and having a damn good time... watching not only Jake Shears in his limited edition gold foil jumper jog endlessly in place mind you but taking in the visceral sight of 5,000 or so smushed-up bodies that were caught up in the glitter bomb that eminated from the stage.
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Slow forward to about a day later reading the press surrounding this year's Coachella concert and word of dueling expositions of equal critical weight. On one end, the much lauded and "louded"

public affair that I attended and on the other end of the polo field, an up and coming band so artsy that they called themselves, well....Art Brut closing down the Mojave tent in what one would assume to be a dauntless and unforgiving task, trying to soak up any revelers away from mainstays Tool or the one-two combination of The Go! Team and the Scissor Sisters. Given the fact that I felt sorry for The Editors earlier in the eveing having caught them in Orlando before the festival play to a measely half filled tent, I should have given greater attention to Art Brut's slot and their no-less significant place there. In retrospect, a golden opportunity to catch such a great band instead of taking my esteemed place far enough back at a much more prolific group's set so crowded that I have only just now realized that the belt marks around my waist were not my own.
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Art Brut, by all counts, shut the place down. Not only in a literal sense because, well....so did Tool and Scissor Sisters and that one half-conscious drunk girl shouting "Crazy" being drug to her car, but in the sense that everyone who saw them claimed to have a size 11 imprint of lead singer Eddie Argos's foot on their backside, in short, they kicked every sunburnt ass in the Mojave tent. But who knew? Art Brut. Really?
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Yesterday, I was able to see what the fuss was about along with two other bands I had never seen, We Are Scientists and The Spinto Band. The latter I had never heard of but judging by the pleasant sound of their music not and eagerness to please the crowd, you should be able to find them readily available on your next venture to any so-and-so Pitchafit music blog or another. Lead singer Nick Krill is next up to spot-on play David Byrne in a remake of Stop Making Sense and bassist Thomas Hughes (who also bills himself as poopship on the band's website) somehow manages to manipulate the very Kimchi Ready-Whip that powers every kid in the place. We Are Scientists are a band who my friend Stephanie adored the last time they were here and who I have casually enjoyed from my couch whenever I have had the opportunity to see one of their brilliant videos. I've actually blogged about this before I think but if you want something smart, witty, hilarious, unexpected, and much welcomed to read, go on over to the Scientists website and check it out, great stuff! A fan of bands like Soul Coughing and They Might Be Giants, We Are Scientists are savvy rockers but gentlemen-rockers none the less and harder than I really expected. Live they were somewhere between tasting dry Kool-Aid right out of the packet and eating a partially solidified cake of powdered sugar ... if it were to mix finally....and brilliantly in your stomach. Not exactly what I expected live. They played very well, a little harder than I possibly imagined but less than impressionable as I had hoped as it seemed the witty banter I had saved room for in my noggin was nothing compared to the 45 minute intellectual storm that Eddie Argos and company had brought with them.
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Famous last words are a very funny thing. It was no more than a few minutes before Art Brut took the stage that I was professing my complete ignorance about and arrogrance toward Eddie Argos's talky-singy (singy-talky?) style of delivery in the exactly three songs that I had heard from them before last night. Such proclimations should really be left at home especially if you also

profess to only hearing three songs before that evening. It wasn't even so much the fact that he didn't sing (even he professes not to in "Formed A Band") but the fact that indeed each song is so well crafted from a storytellers perspective and half lived-out on stage in front of you that allows you to buy into the bottled product that Art Brut are selling. Personal, enlightened, well-intentioned...all themes...no, adjectives that can be used to describe the song writing. Delivery of course is another thing as well. If at first I detested what I assumed would be a boring lecture of a rock show (who half sings an entire set anyway?), I now consider my glorious, swaggering Sylvia Plath. The man responsible for making me actually stand up and pay attention to what the hell was going on on-stage for the first time in a long time. I was actually concerned about his little brother discovering rock and roll! Emily Kane?...a complete bitch! Moving to L.A. sounds like such a great idea! Especially if you can drink Hennessy with Morrissey! All of these strange thoughts and themes that shouldn't be rotating around together in a concert set all seem perfectly tied together because Eddie makes them spin so well. Like a brilliant art mobile.
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A day later (and a big thanks to technology) those same brilliantly painted stories were still floating around in the collective heads of me and my friends. Instant messages with phrases like "Art Brut, are you ready?" and "Popular culture no longer applies to me." I suppose that is the real test of a band making an impression, popular culture actually transcends them and there they are, memorable, quotable and yes....singable a day later.
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