The Bravery at the Paradise Rock Club, 2/18

It had been over a month since I'd been to a show, and yeah, I missed it. So we went to the loveably grungy Paradise Rock Club to see The Bravery -- me, Philip, and his friend Duncan, also British. Flanked by British lads, I was in good spirits.

We arrived a tad late and missed about half of the opening set by Your Vegas, but from what we heard they had potential. However, they were overshadowed by the rocking Switches. This British quintet had a great sound -- a kind of classic rock throwback thing, with four-part harmony, loud guitars, infectious energy, and awesome hair. Unfortunately, their lyrics were,in Philip's words, "insipid." Their formula for a song seems to be choose a two- or three-word phrase for the title ("No Hero," "Every Second Counts," "Lovin' It"), and then repeat it as many times as possible within the chorus. Once the crowd had figured out this formula, it got old quickly. They were clearly talented musicians with skills and commanding stage presence, however, so I think they could be quite big if they learned how to diversify their song structure. They've only got a couple of EPs out so far, so they've got time. Good stuff.

Waiting for The Bravery was the usual trial of patience, and we fell back into our pattern of making hypocritically snide remarks about the crowd. In this case, it was the most "mainstream" looking crowd I'd been in for some time. (To counterbalance the general lack of self-conscious hipness, I suppose, we had to encounter the single ugliest couple I have ever seen in my life. I shall not even describe the horror, lest it be read by said couple. This is the internet after all. We actually didn't see them until midway through the set, when they pushed their way from the bar up to the front for "An Honest Mistake." Goodness, I've said too much.) At an ideal Bravery concert, people would jump around. Their new-wave influenced, synthesizer-infused pop-rock about as close to dance music as legit guitar rock gets. And some of the people filling the Paradise that night were unhip enough, or tipsy enough, to do that.

The Bravery came onstage with "Split Me Wide Open," which, though a great song, was somewhat disappointing live. Perhaps it was a poor choice of starters. Singer Sam Endicott sounded strained, sounding like a pale echo of a young Robert Smith, to whom he is sometimes compared. However, he sounded much more confident on "No Brakes," and that confidence lasted through the solid set, which was more or less split between 2005's self-titled debut and this year's The Sun and the Moon. Before playing "This Is Not the End," he announced they would soon release a new album, entitled The Moon, made of of alternate versions of all the songs from The Sun and the Moon. I'd still rather have an album of new compositions, but the "Moon" versions of familiar tracks they performed were interesting, especially the sped-up takes of Sun's two slow songs. "Tragedy Bound," the sparsest, bleakest song The Bravery has recorded, benefited from an injection of tempo, while "The Ocean," which is beautifully wistful and dreamy on record, became a more generic Bravery filer track when backed up by a disco drumbeat. It was decidedly refreshing to hear the variation, which, after all, is part of why we go to shows.

Sam Endicott has a long face that makes him look a bit like a cross between a more outgoing Conor Oberst and a less intimidating Trent Reznor. He's passionate and dynamic on stage, all angular motion. Emo-haired guitarist Michael Zakarin also loved the crowd, pacing the edge of the barrier and bringing out the fangirls in all of us. The shy guy and unsung hero was clearly keyboardist John Conway, who, with bassist Mike Hindert, contributed backing vocals in places I hadn't realized existed. The band made it clear that they were rockers, relying only minimally on synth power and more on the charisma and musical muscle of the Endicott-Zakarin combo. Drummer Anthony Burulchich's killer solo almost consciously spat in the face of drum machines everywhere.

The poppy "Public Service Announcement" was a highlight, as were the three biggest hits: "Believe," "Time Won't Let Me Go," and "An Honest Mistake." The last, saved til late in the evening, was the crowd's obvious sentimental favorite and brought the place as close to a dance floor as it could get. They also played an old song called "The Dandy Rock," which Ellicott assured us had never been recorded. Featuring Zakarin on vocals, who was hard to hear, it was forgettable but a welcome surprise.

When they left the stage, I was hoping for "Fearless" and "Bad Sun" as encores. While I didn't get the latter, I did get the former, as well as the single "Unconditional," for which Endicott pulled out all the stops. "I just want I just want love," he wailed, and we shook our heads because it was so obvious that we loved him.

Setlist (well out of order):

Split Me Wide Open
No Brakes
This is Not the End (Moon version)
Public Service Anouncement
Tyrant
The Dandy Rock
Believe
Every Word From Your Mouth Is a Knife in My Ear
Time Won't Let Me Go
An Honest Mistake
Tragedy Bound (Moon version)
Swollen Summer

Encore:
Fearless
The Ocean (Moon version)
Unconditional