Every so often, a band comes along that makes you say, "damn, I fricking love music." When that same band also makes you say, "damn, I love live music," you know you're onto something. Wednesday night at the apparently sold out 7th Street Entry (I guess the tickets sold at the door pushed it to capacity), The Joy Formidable were that band. For me. For my friends. For every single audience member that was conscientious enough to be there. I say 'conscientious,' because this was The Joy Formidable's first time in Minnesota, and the large majority of people in attendance were there by word-of-mouth, either by witnessing one of their webcasts from SXSW, or strictly sight-unseen thanks to tremendous written buzz. There was a certain energy churning throughout the Entry before either opener took the stage. We all were waiting for this, and expected to be impressed.
The Lonely Forest kicked off the night with a surprisingly provocative set. The young Washingtonians ripped through a handful of songs over the course of 25 boisterous minutes. For those that showed up early (about 1/3 of the overall crowd), The Lonely Forest played their hearts out, spinning poppy hooks with angst-filled breakdowns. For those looking for a loud evening, The Lonely Forest started it off justly. They'll be back in town opening for Death Cab for Cutie at First Avenue on 5/21. If you've got tickets to this show, get there early and be equally impressed.
Mona was next, and awfully forgettable. The Nashville foursome had matching haircuts and equally consistent attitudes. They seemed like they had a ton more fun watching The Lonely Forest's set than they did playing their own. I was uninterested in their generic Nashville-rock sound, even before the lead singer/guitarist spit his fourth loogie into the Entry's overhangs.
After what seemed like a 16 hour set break (it was actually just a little over 40 minutes), The Joy Formidable took the stage to a buzzing and breezing crowd, half of which were on their tiptoes, trying to get a glimpse of the tiny but commanding Ritzy Bryan. Throughout the next 45 minutes, our senses were blown. Any idea I had of how to play rock music seemed to not matter. The trio played with unbridled passion and the kind of verve you'd expect from a band headlining Glastonbury, not playing to a crowd of 250 sweaty Minnesotans, touring in support of their first full length record (The Big Roar). Opening with a non-album track, the three-piece immediately grabbed the small club's attention. It wasn't until they followed with "The Magnifying Glass" and "Austere" that the crowd got truly frenzied. There was a kind of lovable tension in the room....like we were all going to burst with excitement, but were doing our best to contain ourselves since we couldn't take our eyes off the stage.
Speaking of eyes. Jesus. Throughout the set, Ritzy's glare soared over the crowd...and if you ask any guy in the audience, she was starting directly into his respective soul. I'm fairly certain she only bothered to blink between songs. The rest of the time, she was fixated on thrashing her guitar or giving the crowd welcome goosebumps. As the set continued on, "Cradle" became much more epic than it is on disc, and "I Don't Want To See You Like This" saw the crowd shouting the dynamic chorus right back at Ritzy. I felt enthusiastic about the band's connection with the crowd, and it was clear that everyone in the room was on the same page.
Then it was time for "Whirring," their recent single that's been getting a fair amount of airplay on The Current as of late. It's an approachable alt-rock jewel that turns into a monstrous 7-minute jam, and the translation from record to stage was nothing short of remarkable. Ritzy and company lured us into a false sense of security with the accessibility of the first three minutes, then absolutely tore us apart with a barrage of effect-laden guitar & bass, and ferocious drumming that I think had me headbanging at one point. Ritzy flung herself around the stage, her gorgeous platinum hair bouncing with her. Not a single member of the audience knew what to do. We just stared, seemingly mouthing a collective "HOLY SHIT." As the grandiose guitar crunched to a close, the band left the stage, with absolutely no intent of coming back out for an encore. Although we all stood there, staring...we didn't want them to come back out either.
The Joy Formidable put on a near-perfect show, one of the best I've seen in recent memory. I want to see them again. Now.
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