Cold War Kids @ The Palace - 06/08/2008

When I got home on Tuesday night from my huge Byron Bay adventure, I looked at my ticket for Cold War Kids at The Palace and wondered how it would differ from watching them from a festival crowd - a much bigger, drunker, more enthusiastic crowd. It's been said by fans and bands alike that Melbourne punters tend to just cross their arms and watch, examining every chord and movement to make sure it's okay to enjoy what they're seeing. Or, and I know this is common everywhere, they will watch the entire set through the screens of their phones or compact cameras. I had to really prepare myself for this gig; I'd enjoyed the band so much at Splendour in the Grass and didn't want to ruin my memory of seeing them live.

I left late on Wednesday evening. I was still so very scattered from my trip, I didn't have the energy to stand through a support act. I didn't even get the obligatory bourbon and coke I usually get as soon as I've had my ticket checked. I was there on a mission - to see the band, try to ignore the audience and go home to some much needed sleep. The venue was packed but I managed to get a spot on the left set of stairs, above the mass of people who had gathered in front of the stage. I watched in anticipation as everything was being set up - guitars were tuned, roadies made awkward noises into microphones. A big banner covered the back of the stage with lyrics printed on it, and one of the crew scurried across the stage to put an empty wine bottle with a candle in it on Nathan's piano. This happened at Splendour too, I'm still not sure what the deal is there but it gives an element of mystery to Mr. Willett, on whom I already have a fast-developing crush (especially after seeing what's hidden under his shirt). There was definitely a flatter atmosphere this time around but when the band came out, I instantly forgot about it. Again I was reeled in by those soulful vocals, the erratic movements of the band and the dim lighting perfectly complimenting the style of the band.

Hang Me Up To Dry was a highlight and the most appreciated song by the the crowd, but for me the stand-out moment was Hospital Beds again. There is just something so heartfelt about that song, it gets me every time. Robbers was another interesting one, but for a different reason. Before the song started, Nathan explained how much their fans meant to them, and that the show shouldn’t be all about them. The stage lights were then turned off, and Nathan and one of the Matts shone torches into the crowd, moving them slowly over the faces of their fans in between playing their parts of the song. The cheering seemed to follow the light, getting considerably louder in parts as the torches swept over that section of the venue. Obviously the band either have the kind of modesty or the charisma that allows them to pull this kind of move off, as it was received well. I however found myself frustrated. It could have been an absolutely gorgeous moment; the softness of the song combined with the amber light sweeping slowly over the crowd had the power to perfect the atmosphere - if it wasn't for all the ignorant people there. It could have been an intimate moment between band and fans, a chance for the artist to connect with the people who have gotten them where they are - both the intention and the opportunity to do this is a rare thing these days. But instead the room was instantly filled with little LCD screens, flashes were going off which completely destroyed the chances of having the band appear to be playing from nowhere, conversations between friends seemed so much louder and were harder to ignore - one girl even had her back to the stage, turning around once, only to contribute one more irritating burst of blinding light towards to the stage. Looking around, it seemed 50% of the people were glued to the stage (as they should have been), and the other 50% were just so undeserving of what the band were doing for them. It was really disappointing to see, but I tried so hard to just appreciate what Cold War Kids were trying to create for us. I left before the encore, thinking it couldn't possibly be one of my favourites; it seemed they had played them all. About fifteen minutes before I got home I realised it would have been Saint John. I'm still kicking myself for that, but aside from that and the enormous legion of unappreciative idiots, I was satisfied.