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Sunday, 29 January 2006 15:59

From the all-girl pogo pit, to the sprightly vixen lost in a sea of her own jet black hair singing the words to every one of their songs right back at them, to say that WAS built the crowd’s excitement into a nearly uncontrollable frenzy would be the ultimate understatement.

 

The Subterranean, Chicago, IL

Although you wouldn’t know it from the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd they drew that night, the Brooklyn-based trio We Are Scientists had only just recently released its first full-length album, With Love and Squalor, a highly danceable slice of post-punk adrenaline.

Getting off to a late start due to technical difficulties, the set nonetheless started with a bang as the first few rows of messy-haired and sloppily dressed hipsters literally erupted into spastic dance to the album’s second track “The Scene Is Dead.” Like contemporaries the Faint, Franz Ferdinand, and Hot Hot Heat, We Are Scientists rely heavily on their rhythm section, which in this case is comprised of Chris Cain (bass) and Michael Tapper (drums), while Keith Murray supplies the Wire-meets-Gang of Four–like guitars and the slightly untamed, yet entirely theatrical Damon Albarn–esque vocals.

Following the set-opener with the similarly kinetic “Inaction,” as the night went on, the band never let up for an instant. Keeping wacky stage banter to a minimum (with the notable exception of announcing to the audience that they would like to meet each and every one of them personally), they seemingly ran on an almost endless reserve of energy that outlasted even their audience’s, even though crowd enthusiasm never seemed to wane for even an instant. From the all-girl pogo pit, to the sprightly vixen lost in a sea of her own jet black hair singing the words to every one of their songs right back at them, to say that WAS built the crowd’s excitement into a nearly uncontrollable frenzy would be the ultimate understatement.

As for the band themselves, Murray’s convulsive rock ’n’ roll swagger during “Can’t Lose” (their brief foray into pop-punk off of WLAS) had to be one of the most entertaining performances a guitarist has put forth in years, while Cain’s Jimi Hendrix–with-a-geek-chic-twist routine during their otherwise faithful cover of the Ronnettes classic “Be My Baby” was absolutely electrifying. Not to be overlooked, however, Tapper was almost literally a blur of skinny arms and legs throughout, especially during such dance floor–friendly tracks as “What’s the Word” and “Nobody Move, Nobody Get Hurt,” both of which seems ripe with remix possibility.

It wasn’t until later in the evening, however, that the night had truly found its defining/music video moment and (strangely enough) it didn’t even involve anyone in the band. It was during “Cash Cow” (perhaps their most hip-shaking song of the night) when the aforementioned raven-haired sprite pointed up at the venue’s second floor balcony and proceeded to sing the song (word for word). From that point on, it became clear that any band that could make their audience feel that much like rock stars had to be destined for big things themselves.