Show Review: alt-j, Portugal. The Man, Cherry Glazerr at Bill Graham Civic Auditorium, 4.1.22

As an alt-j fan celebrating The Dream release and larger venue openings in the bay area the joke was on me when it came to the night of the show and what happened vs what I expected from this sold-out venue and bill.

The Bill Grahm Civic Auditorium might as well be the venue that “Band Aid” Penny Lane spins around to Cat Steven’s (Yusuf Islam’s) “The Wind” in Almost Famous. An iconic movie scene where a super fan relishes the empty room after an incendiary performance of their fav band. If this venue could talk.

A large room (8,500 capacity) with marble steps takes you up multiple concrete balcony levels and corridors. Once inside, at balcony level, the views are steep yet excellent and the floor is a pulsing spectacle that eclipses normal envy of GA seating. An inclusive concert experience for all ticket holders.

Rock Medicine in the house for all those folks who lifted their masks and inhibitions to imbibe. Seemed by the end of the night they were pretty busy. Patrons wanting to mingle, re-living amateur nights from a while back now. I did avoid getting hit twice with the same man’s liquid regret twice in ten minutes when exploring the balcony during alt-j.

The vibe was: “I forgot how to drink alcohol, and I’m here to party”

LA’s Cherry Glazer’s third iteration rolled out some heavy-hitting hard rock. Near surf sounding guitar. Helmet-influenced hardcore hooks. Riot grrrl listening to Catherine Wheel. A mod quality about it.

The energetic sound and precision did not match their stage presence. I wondered if the booker picked the later stage band lineup and such a big venue to shadow out the band a bit. Somebody at the soundboard joined in by tweaking the sound for the first four songs. I moved back to listen closer. The last of the set was synced and smoothed and I could hear the power in her voice take to the front. I just kept thinking, “God, I wish I’d seen them headlining a tiny dive.”

It was early still. To assume we would have a crowd devoid of energy was premature on my part.

The house was 3/4 capacity, and the crowd assimilated. Portugal. The Man readied.

Consciousness and having a platform to use it is a gift and a privilege, a responsibility few in this position utilize. Portugal. The Man took the build of energy from the room, sequestering it to silence when they pulled their first stunt of the night. Turning on the house lights and stealing the red and blue glow from the Cherry set to illuminate a group of representatives from local tribes to do a land acknowledgment and prayer of hope for the future. The elder woman spoke after her younger counterpart and proclaimed “I like rock music” and the crowd cheered. She urged the masses to take in the history they had shared and the reverence that we are all stewards of this land. We are all responsible.

The band knew what they were doing. They are masters of mood-altering vibe switches. Working with Mike D, Mac Miller, and Danger Mouse, Portugal. The Man has a bag full of tricks — magicians sculpting a soundscape that captivate the audience immediately. Maybe they have private meetings with Damon Alborn. Clever trickery…

The tribe representatives marched off, the man’s crew scurried and crouched with fog machines lining the outer stage. Twenty-foot tall projections of Mike Judge’s famous dynamic duo dropouts spewed remarks and insults while making fun of the band’s music video for “Feel It Still” … “Portugal”…”hehehe”… “ the man”… “hehehehe”…”fire!fire!!!!”…“When you have complicated facial hair like that, hehehe, I think it means you have, like, problems”…“he’s misunderstood he-he-he”

Butthead comes to realize that Portugal. The Man sucks so bad, and if you put this much crap under the distress of this much pretense, you get an amazing band!! better than the Stones, better than the Beatles, better than …. SILVERCHAIR! “Ladies and gentlemen bow down to the greatest band in the world… Portugal. The Man!” The audience is in stitches. Proof Judge created a timeless masterpiece, and the band utilized the nostalgia perfectly. Every single person in the room was smiling

For their next trick? Add some heavy contrast lighting to silhouette from what I counted, six musicians and tons of tech on stage. Theatrics that confused the crowd, and fused the band into one black mass. Silhouettes of baseball caps and skater cut clothing, and a willowy femme form with a sixties timbre, Portugal. The Man was delivering a whole charade. I’ve had enough concert encounters to cynicise my expectations of opening bands that I have limited experience with. I have left some room for surprise and delight. Although it’s a full eighteen years into this band’s career, and they have a cult following at this point, and I’m sure like most bands with such a prolific catalog there are some sleepers and clunkers, it was utterly wild and flummoxing. Creative experimenters and longstanding friendships since high school, this band is ok with reaction in any form. As I said, I have little familiarity with this act… The fan base that I observed comes from the sub-category of modern hippy that has enamel band pins on their computer bag or hand-screened patches on their quilted tobacco pouches: Puscifer, Ween, Schpongle, Zappa, Primus. The Overlap to alt-j makes total sense. Pineal party music.

The spectacle wasn’t finished. Portugal. The Man’s music video faded from the screen behind the band. Smoke assimilated the band. Vibrant colors splashed on the screen and stage floor. Metallica’s throbbing intro to “For Whom the Bell Tolls” crashed out of drums and guitars. The heavy swirled, backlit figures rupturing perfect metal. The wall lit up with HUGE flashing words “THANK YOU METALLICA”.

What the hell was happening now? On any other day, I might’ve chalked this kind of thing as a mask for lesser playing, or the need for fanfare. Nope. I was wrong again. “THANK YOU GRATEFUL DEAD”, “THANK YOU DEAD KENNEDYS” It was clear. This Bay Area native knew what the hell was going on!

It was all still part of the acknowledgment after all. They honor the native peoples of the regions and the native bands of the area before shows. They make gratitude METAL!

The main set started. I gathered hints of Sylvan Essos’ shine, and TV On the Radio’s demure. The guitar playing was jaw-dropping. I liked it. I was left with nothing but appreciation reflecting on the talk walkers from Wasile Alaska. Here’s to eighteen more years of shenanigans.

Setlist

For Whom the Bell Tolls / South of Heaven / Cowboys From Hell
Live in the Moment
Creep in a T-Shirt / In Bloom
Got It All (This Can’t Be Living Now) / God Gave Rock and Roll to You / Chug
What, Me Worry?
Evil Friends / Day Man
Senseless
Waves
Floyd / KCY / Trend
And I
Grim
Feel It Still
Purple Yellow Red and Blue

It’s safe to say that 10 pm is late for pandemic life. If it’s past ten — global pandemic time — and you are up doing something, it’s probably self-deprecating in some way. Well, it was past ten at the BGC when alt-j’s stage setup was revealed. Sweaty Portugal Heads grabbed their 4th tall can of Alcoholic Kombucha and joined forces with the population of brits and indie lovers. A huge rectangular box made from a giant erector set emerged. A terrarium on risers blocked in by patio-type screen. A mask that does nothing it seemed — a catwalk to look up at, Kraftwerk stage styles. Removed and unable to interact, we were bird watching. The new album, The Dream, begins with a retro voiceover a can of pop opening. “Cold and Sizzzzzzling” the track “Bane” gently plucked our way into the beginning of the 20 song set and encore alt-j was about to spill. “I sold my soul” repeated monk-like chanting beckoning a close listen to catch the content. Drippy church candles alit the mesh creating a less separate setting for this song….They were projecting on the tank they were in! alt-j fans have listened a lot. The lyrics aren’t the most decipherable. The crowd squirmed, bopped, shuffled, and sang. It still remained a heavy connection between fans as the band looked down at the crowd, hardly moving from the three spots about six feet away from one another behind the shroud. “Every Other Freckle” from 2014’s This is All Yours trudged uphill happily. Just sappy enough to write about someone you adore. Tinny drums and hums. “I’ll Lick You like a Crisp Packet” — a nod to Lou Reed.

“The Actor,” what I assume to be the hit here, lapsed the set forward. Another love song to an unforgiving ex. Cocaine. Did Thom Yorke teach you to whine like that? It’s a repetitive radio bopper. If you like drugs you’ll get it. “gimme some ice cream, give it to me now!” “He’s never gonna make it in LA”

I love the first half of the new record The Dream. It’s the most album-like album we have received from this band since they began in 2012. The second half lulls me to an atmospheric background place that a lot of their previous catalog lends to. Providing the hits, from An Awesome Wave, their debut, they banged out “Tesselate” with Smooth slink and tapping beats.

Another bright song written during COVID: “u and Me”. It’s ambiguous enough, but memories of better times. It’s convincing. Unlike other more ambiguous records of theirs, these are start-to-finish hits. The new record delivers radio-ready porn.

They dished Matilda. Everyone wanted it. They went over a few songs I could give or take. I was up past eleven, standing around a huge room of people! “Taro,” “Dissolve Me,” “Fitzpleasure” a wonderful 25 minutes of their old skool sounds from 2012’s Wave. The most memorable part of the three-song encore was “Hard Drive Gold,” a commentary on bitcoin, pepped everyone up before landing us all at “Breeze Blocks,” a familiar favorite with toy piano…”please dont go i love you so, I’ll eat you whole” from the film Where the Wild Things Are (not for the faint of heart for parents or kids…btw). You can see the fan crossover with this one. It’s very full-sounding. Portugal. The Man has that trick down.