Ratatat @ Stubb's September 15th

As I entered Stubb’s Bar-B-Q, the dream outdoor venue for acts with lights and visual spectaculars, I spotted the person responsible for the intoxicating pulse of electronic music that could be heard all the way from 9th St. and Red River where I had parked my car.
The nameless, masked opener spent an hour weaving a complicated tapestry of beats and beeps to a backdrop of projection of a man in a freefall, spinning in no certain direction into what looked like an extreme acid trip. The best thing about the faceless DJ was the energy he imparted to the growing crowd, convincing people to pick up their feet and dance. The reverberations of the bass alone moved bodies involuntarily, echoing in the chest like a shout in a cavern. Not a bad opening for Ratatat.The next band left more to be desired. Panther, a drummer & singer duo, seemed to hop on to the keep-indie-weird-but-danceable bandwagon. Their only problem was that both players lacked stage presence. The average Joe singer shrieked awkwardly as the drummer kept time with fast, interesting enough beats.

Afterwards, the crowd was rattling around in excitement, the cloud of marijuana smoke overhead growing wider with anticipation. Finally, Ratatat appeared in a bright haze as their name rose behind them on a projector in big block letters. The sound of the first few Zelda-esque notes rang out, hints of epic solos to be heard. Their opening tune was new, forgettable. But not ones to disappoint, the band chose wisely to intersperse their setlist with songs from “Classics” (a fitting name, considering the songs on this album are the ones that everyone knows) with their new songs--experimental, at times a bit slower and thoughtful. My own favorite, “Lex,” started with a triumphant guitar and as the keyboardist slowed the banging of his head, the song fell into one of Ratatat's idiosyncratic complex and velvety lulls. These brief musical interludes make the instrumentals of Ratatat more profound than other acts that try to give electronic music depth with little luck. The entire show was characterized by anticipation for the next favorite, especially the final song, "Seventeen." Unfortunately, this song fell flat in comparison to the others. It sounded unrehearsed, a bit craggy, and energy deficient (on the band's part) concluding an all- around decent show. 

The band did win points, however, for their visual accompaniment, one of the best I’ve seen. Each song was tied to a new palette, theme, and set of images ranging from hypercolor primitive yarn drawings to feathered haired babes from the 70s with eyes and mouths a-twirl. If Ratatat didn’t have the audience transfixed, the projections certainly did. The band members appeared to be Technicolor dream gods amidst a sea of fans.