Anything But Scary: Grizzly Bear @ the Troubadour February 21, 2007

For some reason I was positive that Grizzly Bear actually came from the Great White North, but Brooklyn? Well, maybe I'll just pretend they're from Canada (please note that is NOT a knock on Brooklyn).

Tonight for whatever reason, the Troubadour decided that they were going to allow myself and a friend to grace the upstairs VIP room that overlooks the entire stage without toes being stepped on or sweaty hipster corduroy pressing against my back... This night was going to be awesome!

The first two bands we actually watched on tvs stationed around the bar between sips of whiskey while we lounged on couches. It was a bit disorienting to be watching tv when you could hear the music from the band you're watching come drifting up the dimly lit stairway in the corner. But why make the effort when you can kick back with your feet up.

The whole mood of the night was incredibly laid back. I would almost say lazy, except I think I would be doing the music of Grizzly Bear an injustice.

The performance bordered on trance-like melodies and howls that I swear you would only find out in the subzero tundras up to the north. The howls however were more than mere occurances. Whole songs rested solely from the gutteral oohs and ahhs that singers Edward Droste and Daniel Rossen (who is the other half in Department of Eagles, who you should check out after finishing this post) would moan out to the audience. Surprisingly enough, these translate well both live and recorded (check out Yellow House).

On another note, being the drum geek that I am, I couldn't help but notice the interesting set up. NO BASS DRUM. It took a good stare before I finally figured out what was different. It worked though; a bass may have broken the soft swells of percussion.

It's very rare that nights out at clubs make you want to curl up with some cocoa and go watch a snowfall illuminated by moonlight. Usually by the end of the night you're scrambling to locate where you've tossed your Motrin and possibly your phone. But Grizzly Bear creates a dreamy low-fi lullabye that you can't help but want them to sing to you as you drift off to sleep.