Death Cab For Cutie & Pretty Girls Make Graves

Cases have been made of the aura surrounding various shows and performances at the BMU in recent years. Complaints of ticket prices mixed with lackluster audience response seem to have marred the otherwise sunny anticipation associated with a BMU show. Regardless, the fine folks at AS Presents continue to supply faithful showgoers with a veritable goldmine of acts to grace its humble stage. Last Monday’s highly anticipated and heavily attended Death Cab For Cutie show aimed at bucking the trend of indifference with a fervent dose of indie rock mayhem, and luckily, succeeded.
Once again, kicking off almost exactly at the advertised start time, the show began with Seattle, WA’s Pretty Girls Make Graves (aka one of my new favorite bands). The foursome hit the stage to exuberant applause, though it seemed as if only a few bold fans were actually familiar with the group. Layering ass-shaking drum beats, precise bass work and oddly traditional guitar and keyboard explorations, PGMG managed to turn more than a few heads during their roughly 45-minute set, not to mention virtually imploring those who were secure enough to do so, to do that weird “dance in one spot” thing. I’m guilty of it, too.
PGMG seemed to up the energy of their set with each song, even going so far as to stray from their traditional hook-laden pieces and perform songs from their first CD that explored the screamier side of the band. Vocalist Andrea Zollo’s pronounced enthusiasm and angelic vocals went on to win over a large BMU crowd and set an upbeat mood for the evening’s headliners.
Death Cab For Cutie, whose recent jaunt on the Artists for Change tour exposed them to the swing-state masses alongside Pearl Jam and R.E.M., opened their set with the infectious “The New Year” from their heralded release Transatlanticism. Immediately, the group set a commanding tone and seemed to be having a fun time onstage, as evidenced by their reluctant smiles in between songs. “We Laugh Indoors,” with its repeated chorus of “I loved you Guinevere, I loved you Guinevere, I loved you,” emerged as a pristine example of how good bands can execute such ethereal songs in a live setting, and amplified the band’s set from one of anticipation to one of indomitable excellence. In fact, it’s been quite a while since I’ve not been left with condemning thoughts on a given show; maybe I just finally get what all the fuss is about. Regardless, DCFC rocked through a majority of their more popular tunes, yet it wasn’t until the broken-family themed “Styrofoam Plates” that the audience realized what kind of force this group really was. And to hear those lyrics bounce off of the walls and see the faces of those kids pressed against the barricade, mouthing every word and meaning it, is something that you rarely experience at a rock concert, and furthermore elevates this show to merely one of the best I’ve seen, in Chico or otherwise.

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