Longwave + I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness

Longwave + I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness


Longwave
I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness

It’s no revelation that traditional rock ‘n’ roll has become as parsed out, pinned down, and exhaustively analyzed as classical, jazz or blues were before it. Ask any kid with five weeks’ worth of guitar lessons and he’ll plunk out “Johnny B. Goode”. Go to any House of Blues or Hard Rock Cafe and you’ll catch a few solid Chuck Berry impersonations, performed by the local experts, the same ones who dole out the guitar lessons. It’s hardly surprising to find such faithful homages paid at these temples of retro rebellion, but it’s a bit disappointing to find the same type of time-travel happening in clubs on the fringe of city nightlife. Fittingly, the biggest difference between the opening acts and the headliners on this night is their less deft handling of formula. Every band sported the same line-up: keyboards, a couple guitars, bass and drums. The Picture, the mostly unknown first act, hasn’t yet gotten the formula down. Their songs vacillate between Wilco and Interpol, dropping country-tinged guitar solos into otherwise minimalist songs. Occasionally they veer off into the kind of bass-busy breakdowns that could have been picked from ska songs. It might seem that such variety is a good thing, but in this band’s case, it doesn’t suggest unique vision. Instead, it smacks of a mélange of influences struggling for dominance. Sandwiched in the middle of the set is I Love You But I’ve Chosen Darkness, an Austin band with a breathtaking appellation and similarly expansive sound. The band members skip the fuss over appearance, preferring to sweat through their polyester. In this sweaty manner the group post-rock a full set of songs, evoking sprits from a host of old British new wave and post-punk acts. Thanks to the famous producer — Britt Daniel of Spoon — seal of approval on their first, self-titled EP, Chosen Darkness has gained a fair buzz. Their set is comprised of solid songs, but so far they’ve yet to emerge with a single that will ratchet them up to the top of the rock pile. Most disappointingly, lead singer Christian Goyer never really steps forward as a front man. He sings perfectly well but never gives the impression that he actually is involved in his songs. It’s easy to deride the false god of authenticity in rock, but I’d rather avoid saying that anyone simply lacks charisma. Rather, he seemed to be too well practiced, trained in rock vocals the way people train for jazz. Broadway revues All Shook Up and Good Vibrations celebrate the classic rock of Elvis Presley or Brian Wilson with casts of professionally trained singers belting out songs that were once performed by what you might call gifted amateurs. Provided he can dance, Goyer will be a perfect candidate when someone gets around to staging 24 Hour Party People: The Musical!!! When it comes to charisma, Longwave’s Steve Schlitz has it in spades. He exudes a wholesome, Wonder Years nerdiness that ignores the popular, sneering demeanor of disaffection that many singers adopt too early in their career. Instead, he sings with such casual earnestness that fans can’t help but sing along. Longwave’s songs are perfect for singalongs. “Tidal Wave”, the star of the night and of a recent EP, is a great example of the ultimate, no-frills single. The band bears the famous producer imprimatur just like Chosen Darkness, Dave Fridmann on their past album The Strangest Things and John Leckie (who has worked with both Radiohead and Pink Floyd) on their upcoming There’s a Fire. However, in this case, the seal of approval doesn’t matter so much. The songs stand on their own. And there’s no better evidence than an audience constantly calling out requests. I might spend my time railing against derivative bands, groups striving to catch onto a certain sound that most of us fans already know so well. The success rate may be disappointing, almost suicidally so. Yet after seeing such a rare payoff as Longwave, I can understand why so many still try to make it, willing to run the risk of becoming tomorrow’s local guitar teacher.