I walked into this concert knowing absolutely nothing about Edward Sharpe and/or the Magnetic Zeros. My companion, who scored the tickets at a questionable price through a shady Asian reseller, informed me before the show that Edward Sharpe isn't even a real person, so that took care of that. I knew they had a song called "Home" that was pretty popular, but I had never heard it. So armed with this lack of knowledge, I marched into the venue and positioned us three feet from the stage, where we remained the entire night.The show began precariously, to put it lightly.
The stage was littered with instruments, including a full drum set, an array of vehicles of percussion, a dozen guitars of every shape, keyboards, a piano, and a sitar. Most of these would remain unplayed for several hours.
An opening band was scheduled that night, but from the chatter around the fans I gathered that, according to the Internet, they didn't exist. The stage time for this non-existent band came and went, with little more than random members of the Magnetic Zeros tuning various instruments, until the keyboard player staggered onstage in a haze and announced that he would be playing a song for us.
After a perfectly adequate song on his well-worn wooden piano, the rest of the band came out to join him--or most of them, anyway. Jade, who was the lead singer and one of the main focal points for the group, was somewhere backstage without a phone, and they couldn't find her. So great. Nothing more reassuring than news that band has lost one of its members in the heart of DC.
The band looked wholly unready for live performance--and by that I mean they were really high. The guitarists both seemed tired and slightly agitated that they had to play their instruments. The keyboardist stood in a stoic, offputting stance that would've made Nico proud. The percussionists both seemed equally as dead, almost confused as to why they were there.
The band slumped through a couple songs, complete with the lead singer sitting on the stage playing offbeat bongos intermittently, until the trumpet player knocked out a cord for his keyboard, sitting off sharp waves of digital noise. The aforementioned piano player laughed at this for about ten seconds, before finally stopping the band and asking, in pure stoned fashion, "What was that, man?"
Shortly after, the AWOL Jade joined them onstage, sprinting up the stairs and leaping across the stage, taking time for a brief conversation with each member of the band. She had an incredible bounce and energy to her, eerily equivalent to that of a toddler discovering the world for the first time. Her contribution to this first string of songs consisted solely of crappy vocals and offbeat handclaps, all in a druggy haze that put the rest of the band to shame. After another half-hearted song, the band announced they were taking a short break, and would be right back, man, we promise.
At this point I turned to my friend and announced that this was the worst concert I'd ever been to.
The band returned a full twenty minutes later, and their second set couldn't have been more different from the first.
The lead singer was on his feet and conscious, introducing himself as Alex and apologizing for the delay, because they too had thought there would be an opening band. It was then that I realized what I had witnessed earlier: a band with a single album, struggling to sober up and play an impromptu set without repeating anything from their normal show. From that standpoint, their first few songs were downright miraculous.
The entire band had an energy that simply did not exist before that point. They were actually happy to be there--except for Nico, who smirked maybe three times the entire show, trying desperately not to let down her guard.
Alex is easily the best showman I've ever witnessed live. He's a shaman Iggy Pop, prancing across the stage in a daze, telling the crowd about topics ranging from "Inception" to the importance of apple juice to his five-year old self. He touched and/or made eye contact with at least half the room that night--myself included. And from personal experience, I have never seen more passion and energy in the gaze of another human being in my entire life. He repeatedly dropped into the crowd and took hugs from everyone who wanted one, including one girl who have him such a great hug, he let her sing the first verse of one of their songs. (She sang it infinitely better than Jade possibly could have. "Lucky pick," my friend remarked.) Anybody who raised a hand to the stage had it shook. Anybody who shouted a comment or request between songs had it answered to some degree. On one of his trips into the audience, one lucky fan had Alex's head shoved into the neck of his t-shirt and was dragged around behind him for several minutes. In the complete antithesis of Iggy Pop audience confrontation, Alex gave him a high-five when he got back onstage. This man, and the rest of this band, are absolutely for real, not a fake bone in their bodies.
I kept waiting for the show to disintegrate into what the first few songs had been, which was a bunch of hippie bullshit. But it never happened. At some points it seemed like they were trying, especially when they brought out their local sitar-playing friend for an extended jam, but even that was more magical than anything I've ever witnessed a concert. Every song felt like an encore. Every song had an incredible energy and presence that was simply astounding. The percussionists were powerful and perfectly in tune to the movements of each song. The guitarists played off each other perfectly. The keyboardists and trumpet added perfect flares to the main sound. And Alex and Jade are the most perfect live couple in music today.
When the opening notes to "Home" finally rang through the club, I realized that I did actually know the song, though only from a cover version by a honky-tonk band I had seen a few days prior in West Virginia. (Luke and the Lovelys. They do shows in Frederick and Hagerstown. Check 'em out.) The call and response lines between the two were the most painfully adorable thing I'd ever witnessed. At times the band dropped down to a near murmur as the two had conversations with each other, riffing off the lyrics without missing a beat as the rest of the band looked on longingly.
The encore was more brilliant than anything. The band returned onstage and Alex announced a new song called "Man on Fire," with a refrain to the tune of "I want the whole world to dance with me." (It's gonna be fucking huge.) So, to celebrate this song, he dropped into the crowd and got everybody in the room to dance with him. And they did. They really fucking did. The entire 9:30 Club crowd, after three hours of standing, danced to a song that the vast majority of them had never heard.
After a short trip back to the stage, he decided to see "how far this cord will stretch." So he hopped offstage once more and made a beeline for the center of the room, talking to everyone he met on the way ("Hey, new friends!"). After finding himself standing barefoot in a puddle of beer, he decided to sit down. "This isn't too bad. Why don't you guys have a seat with me?"
And with that, the ENTIRE FUCKING ROOM SAT DOWN. EVERYONE IN THE 9:30 CLUB SAT DOWN. ON THE FLOOR. ON LAPS. ON THE STAGE. ON WHATEVER THEY COULD FIND. AND THEY FUCKING SANG A SONG TOGETHER.
If you've been to the 9:30 Club, then you know what an achievement this is--not just because of the size of the room and crowd, which is pretty damn large, considering they sold out, but because of the copious amounts of beer and alcohol that flood this place every single night. Every inch of the floor was coated in beer, cans, bottles, cups, and general debris, yet the audience still sat, because at that point we would've done absolutely anything he asked of us. At that point we were all the same person. He united everybody in the venue to a degree that my pessimistic, downer ass never would've thought possible. It's was truly incredible.
After the show, destroying any notion that his stage presence had simply been an act, Alex remained in the crowd, talking and hugging and kissing and shaking hands with anybody who wanted anything from him. He was still there when we finally made our way out of the building.
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