Weekend Review: Beirut

Beirut

The Troubadour

Saturday, Oct. 21

Few members of the audience waiting in the crowd for Beirut knew
exactly what the night had in store for them.

Since becoming the beloved adoptee of indie-music blogs
worldwide and garnering more Neutral Milk Hotel comparisons than is
fair or relevant, Zach Condon, the 20-year-old face of Beirut, has
come a long way indeed.

Despite the fact that The Decemberists were playing a few miles
away at The Wiltern and an epic Arthur Nights lineup was getting
underway downtown, a substantial crowd of fresh-faced, lighthearted
concertgoers was present for Condon’s first appearance in Los
Angeles.

The two opening bands played short, concise sets and were
generally well-received by the audience. The first was Animal
Hospital, the stage moniker of multi-instrumentalist Kevin Micka,
whose performance consisted of only two songs, formed by layering
loop after loop of drums, guitars and various other
instruments.

The second was A Hawk and a Hacksaw, an instrumental folk duo
led by Jeremy Barnes, previously the drummer of Neutral Milk Hotel.
Barnes, who played with drumsticks and bells taped to his head and
legs so as to play several different instruments with each limb,
was especially a crowd favorite.

It was almost 10:30 p.m. by the time Condon and his seven-member
backing band emerged. Accordians, drums, ukuleles and trumpets
littered the stage.

The band jumped right into “The Gulag Orkestar,” the
opening and title track off Beirut’s debut LP, with trumpets
swelling and tambourines shaking. From that point on, Beirut had
the crowd’s rapt attention.

For his relative inexperience, Condon was very comfortable with
his role as frontman, his confidence and talent contrasting starkly
with his hairless chest and youthful complexion. Everyone onstage
was visibly overjoyed to be playing, and though Condon himself
noted that his ragtag group was far from what could be considered
professional, the band was having so much fun stomping and howling
that it didn’t matter.

The sound was phenomenal, as is to be expected from the
Troubadour, and Beirut’s Balkan, big-band-flavored tunes took
on an exciting new form in a live setting; “Postcards From
Italy” and “Mt. Wroclai (Idle Days)” were
particularly arresting.

Condon’s voice was as strong and singular live as it is on
the album, and he sang without reserve. The set drew mostly from
the band’s only album, though Condon made sure to throw some
new material, as well as some traditional Eastern European songs,
into the mix.

When the time came for Beirut to close its set, the audience
cheered with fervor for an encore and Condon did not leave them
waiting. He declared that they would play a drinking song he had
written, and he and his band soon jumped down into the audience and
were playing with even greater resolve, their trumpets and ukuleles
lifted high in the air, nearly lost among the fans’ raised
arms.

They quit the stage once again, but the audience still had not
had its fill. Sure enough, Beirut reappeared for one last
sing-along before the house lights came on. The grateful audience
continued cheering long after the show ended, knowing the band
could not come back on, but still acknowledging they had witnessed
something special: a true celebration of youth, energy, love and
music.

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