Greetings from Ill Island, children. I saw Phoenix last night in the blustery cold and I’m feeling appeased, despite my nagging cough.

Here’s my two cents:
December the 9th brought a snow storm and a storm of another sort, a Paris, France based electronic, indie rock band by the name of Phoenix. To give an idea of how excited I was to see this band, wrap your chops around this: The show, which was located in Columbus, is a nearly three hour commute from Kent. Tickets were much more expensive than I’m used to, with service charges (a medium steep-cheap, non-college student friendly thirty bucks) and I’ve been ill for the past week. But as they say, “the show must go on.” I was not going to miss Phoenix for anything. No swirling snow or fifty mile an hour wind was going to tell me, “no.”
On the way I made friendly acquaintance with a listen to the band’s older album, “It’s Never Been Like That,” which features a plethora of seasoned fan’s favorites like “Consolation Prizes.” Even though I was mid way to C-Bus on a windy, snow slicked road with car sickness, I couldn’t help but feel this deep anticipation. The two hours passed quickly; we listened to various lengthy albums (some Shellac and a little Big Black to keep us awake, a live recording of Nirvana for nostalgia’s sake).
We arrived in the state’s capital around six p.m., ate dinner and mused at the restaurant’s ridiculous track selections, which included the ever looming audible disease that is Nickelback. The show, which sold out, provided some difficulty in finding a good location. We ended up in front of the speakers, left of center, but far enough to the front to get a good look at the band.
I was disheartened when I was told that the original opening band, a New York based low-fi “fun-tasm” called The Drums, was no longer going to play. Instead we were presented with a local alternative band called Afortiori (I think that’s the name… it was utterly confusing to spell and pronounce, which made me dislike it further, I hate to admit). They played a less than convincing set of mediocre songs, most composed of your favorite commonplace lyrics. The closing selection even included the oh so unique “la de da la de da,” which my accompanying friend gracefully “ripped” on with a comical impression, producing a few laughs from surrounding patrons.
In waiting for Phoenix to take the stage, I thought about possible directions for the concert to lead. The sold- out High Street venue was packed with a diverse, mostly college aged audience. The close proximity to OSU’s campus was the likely culprit; an unexpected amount of rowdy, backwards baseball cap wearing fraternity types were sprinkled into the crowd. This level of appreciation can only mean a good outcome, right?
I am happy to report that Phoenix’s somewhat tricky compositions seem to be cake for the band on a stage, live and in person. The ambitious French power team blazes through the eighty minute set with fortitude; they don’t deviate much from recorded arrangements, but there isn’t a need for it. The band fabricates compositional magic with a dazzling mix of acoustic, electronic and digital instrumentation. The repetitive melodic lyrics are instrumentation themselves, an ornamentation and a pleasure that gives Phoenix a sing along, dance along feel good quality.
Lead vocalist Thomas Mars is sweet faced, surprised and super appreciative, looking as though he’s never encountered so much love in one place. He’s almost bashful at first, but his warm stage presence fetters outward like the well managed stage lighting, which ranges from bright colors to flashing strobes, creating a dance party atmosphere. The band plays various crowd pleasers, beginning with “Lisztomania” and including “Girlfriend,” with it’s signature organ line and sing along pop gem lyrics.
Mars teaches us how they clap in Paris and we accompany a few songs, riding along with the two guitars, bass, keyboard and drums. Drummer Thomas Hedlund catches my eye from his spot on a foggy platform, center stage, behind the rest of the band. He stands as he plays, raises his arms and beats a snare like he’s chopping it in half. A few songs in, Mars slinks to the floor as the band initiates an instrumental piece. He appears to have a nap, lying on his back with his head propped up against the speaker. He rejoins the group with gusto, swinging the mic and jumping down from the stage to greet overjoyed fans. They ruffle his hair and give him high fives as he serenades us all. I am dancing from my spot on a platform, left of the stage. My friend, behind me, taps out beats on my shoulders.
The band plays an overall pleasing selection, including some older songs, which gain appreciation from more familiar fans and warrant a few closed mouths from others. They close and clear the stage, but the crowd is insatiable. Mars and guitarist Laurent Brancowitz take the stage once more. They play a lovely acoustic track, “Everything is Everything,” and Mars waves out the rest of the band for a four song encore. He still seems so stunned by the show’s turn out, thanking us in English and in French for coming to listen. They close with the ever popular track “1901” and we all join in to sing as Mars jumps from the stage again and whisks right past me, mic in hand, out into the sea of fans.
Phoenix has impressed me with their stamina and their music. They are a pure electric shot of energy and it’s all in front of us. “It’s not a miracle we needed,” Mars sings, and I agree. No miracle at all, just the charisma, gracious charm, talent and character that is the very ambitious and unforgettably enjoyable Phoenix of Paris, France.