Just when you start to think that indie rock is dead, The Apples in Stereo come back to save it. Okay, that’s a little optimistic. At least the Elephant Six stalwarts managed to release an album that, without transcending the genre, reminds us of why we fell in love with it in the first place. Sure, the band’s first full-length since 2002 is bigger and louder than ever before. Yes, it’s on freakin’ Elijah Wood’s Simian Records. Saddest of all, longtime drummer Hilarie Sidney left the band in late 2006. Whichever of these facts is hanging you up, get over it. That’s right. Get the fuck over it because the album is great and the live show is even better.
Brooklyn’s caUSE co-MOTION opened the night playing to a crowd of screaming friends in the audience. Although their noisy, pop-punk sound didn’t do much for me, I’m not totally writing them off. I was mostly annoyed by what I call the “monotone lisp,” a vocal affectation that innumerable singers have employed throughout the past 30 years. The band saved their best material for the end of the short set, and I did enjoy a few songs that featured fun, unpredictable guitar riffs and catchy new-wave bass lines. I was surprised to find that they’ve been around for close to five years, but nonetheless, I stick by the judgment that they need some more time to cook before moving beyond the boroughs.
As I watched Casper & The Cookies set up, I knew that something, well, kooky was in the works. Casper Fandango (nee Jason NeSmith), in champagne crushed velvet pants, and his bandmates, bedizened in false, metallic eyelashes and exaggerated makeup (these are the guys, mind you) decorated their mic stands, bass drum, and keyboards with fake flower garlands. I worried that they were all gimmick and no substance, but my fears were in vain. In fact, if The Apples in Stereo hadn’t been so goddamn exciting, Casper's Cookies would have stolen the show. The band members’ androgyny contrasted with the fairy tale concept of their new album, The Optimist’s Club, which, as Casper told us, is about “falling in love in THIS EXACT CITY!” It all made me wonder whether these Athens indie-pop folks are making a concerted effort to bring the glam-rock aesthetic back. I mean, have you seen Kevin Barnes recently, all sparkly make-up and, um, naked? None of them sound anything like David Bowie or Roxy Music to me, but I’ll take Casper & The Cookies’ charming, exuberant, multi-effects-pedal pop any day and consider the eyeshadow a bonus.
The Apples in Stereo had some glitter of their own to show off. Decked out in a silver spacesuit, complete with matching cape and light-up goggles, the keyboard player looked like a refugee from Mothership Connection.
About half of the set comprised songs from the new album, New Magnetic Wonder. 1998’s dreamy concept album Her Wallpaper Reverie will probably always be my favorite, and I can’t get enough of The Apples’ early psychedelic stuff. That said, I wasn’t particularly unhappy about the predominance of newer material. Do I wish they had played “Haley” (from the ’96 rarities collection Science Faire)? Sure. But the band’s peppy delivery of tunes like the celebratory “Energy” and bouncy “Same Old Drag” made me forget any qualms I may have had with the setlist. It didn’t hurt that Schneider and co. tore it up on Wallpaper classics “Strawberryfire” and “Ruby.” An as-yet-unrecorded song rocked harder than even the New Magnetic Wonder material. Now that early influences The Beach Boys and The Beatles have faded into the background, perhaps Cheap Trick is providing fresh inspiration?
The Apples in Stereo, if not better than ever, are bigger than ever. Persistent shouts of “Stephen!” were a constant reminder of Schneider’s appearance on The Colbert Report in late 2006 (see also Someone Got Into My Subconscious and Made Half an Hour of Television About It). To their credit, they teased once or twice but ultimately didn’t play it. It’s far from their best song, and it just wouldn’t have been that great out of context. And hey, its omission didn’t stop one zealous fan from screaming, “Rob, you’re a genius!” after every song. Think of it as a “Clapton is God” for the indie-rock set.
