I
walked into the sold-out Metro just as the opening band was beginning their
set. I wasn’t expecting much from a band I knew absolutely nothing about, but
I was pleasantly surprised by the Presets, an Australian, electro-goth duo
clearly influenced by Joy Division/New Order; it’s the type of stuff the Faint
has been trying to do but has succeeded at only on occasion. The singer’s
Flock of Seagulls haircut, excessively tight jeans and ill-fitted t-shirt made
for quite the spectacle as he thrived around the stage, occasionally pushing
buttons on the electronic equipment that littered the floor. Meanwhile, the
drummer kept the pace alongside a booming bass that ripped through my insides
for 45 minutes straight. Further research revealed that this band has a debut
album coming out this month, which would definitely be worth looking into.
After a short break, Ladytron's four, disgustingly beautiful band members came
on stage joined by an additional drummer and bassist and proceeded to play
almost robotically. This fit their robo-sound very well and was pretty much
exactly how I would have expected them to play, though it did get boring at
times. I wouldn’t be surprised if frontwomen Mira and Helena were actually
fembots (fembots sporting very weird priest/nun-like clothing that only people
in bands can pull off), and watching them perform made me wonder if their home
country of Bulgaria is actually a land of gorgeous, fair-skinned, dark-haired
androids. Thankfully, the band broke the image in time for the encore, when
they began to show a bit of emotion and get the audience involved with some
dancing, handclapping, and an extended electronic jam of "Seventeen," by far
the most exciting moment of the night.
Ladytron's set leaned heavily on songs from their latest album, The
Witching Hour, including highlights "Destroy Everything You Touch,"
"Sugar" and "The International Dateline," while still managing to please the
crowd with older hits like "He Took Her to a Movie," "Playgirl" and the
aforementioned "Seventeen." For the first half of the show, it seemed the
audience wasn’t sure whether or not it was possible to dance to Ladytron’s
methodical electronica, as heads bobbed and feet shuffled nervously.
Eventually, as the beer flowed and the end of the set approached, all
pretenses fell to the wayside as people began pushing up to the front of the
stage to flail wildly in my personal space, completely out of sync with the
music. The Metro’s recent (and otherwise welcome) switch to a smoke-free
environment revealed its sole flaw: no cigarette smell to cover up the sweaty
BO scent. Blech.
