What is it that makes Future Islands great? Over fifteen years of consistent output has been compelling but can tend toward monotony. At first blush, the song lyrics are as boxy and obvious as the titles. The music is almost entirely devoid of melody. So what is it?
The obvious answer is frontman Samuel Herring. But Future Islands is a full experience composed of two parts: Herring and the band itself — original members Gerrit Welmers on keys & William Cashion on Bass, and Michael Lowy, by now a mainstay, on drums. The band does one thing, does it consistently, and does it well. The band makes grooves — beats and tones that are the mise en scene for Herring. Appropriately, Future Islands‘ songwriting style is for the band to create a groove and Herring to riff over it, generally creating basic couplets of simple profundity, finally producing a driving, poetic post-wave build & swell informed by hip-hop methods as much as synth-pop tonalities. The recorded product delivers if you play it loud enough in smaller servings, but you have got to see Future Islands live to have the promise fulfilled.
Future Islands live is what makes Future Islands great.
Saturday’s sold-out show in SF was an emblematic experience. As the Fillmore’s first show since Covid closures (2nd on the bands’ tour), there was every reason for trepidation. Indeed, the audience, vax-checked and masked, was perhaps a bit timid in the vast space. But what is liability is an opportunity as well.
Undaunted, Olympia WA’s Oh, Rose warmed the space up, showcasing their most recent album While my Father Sleeps. The band — loud, distorted, bassy, and aggressive, belied the vulnerable lyrics and soft vocal underbelly of guitarist/lead singer Olivia Rose. Similar in tone and lilt, but not as virtuosic as Angel Olsen, Rose leans into the rough edges and puts them to righteous use. Clearly excited to be there (the band watched the entire Future Islands set from the balcony, enrapt), Oh, Rose did appear a little small on stage physically. I’m sure as the tour progresses, they will mine some of the headliner’s energy and take more physical control of the stage.
Speaking of physical control of the stage, it’s time to discuss Herring. The band came on stage with a typical and effective synthesizer swell from the title track to On The Water (2011). From there, they grooved through 18 tracks spanning their discography, moving effortlessly between OMD synth grandeur to War on Drugs cocaine-van-dad-rock and back again. Standouts were ‘The Painter’ & ‘Hit The Coast’ (As Long As You Are 2020), ‘Seasons’ (Singles 2014), and most recent single ‘Peach.’ Flawless and unobtrusive, they knew what they were doing. They were delivering Samuel to that eager but bashful audience. Samuel T. Herring, a stocky & earnest man nearing middle age, who bears an uncanny similarity in appearance and presence to Marlon Brando, gives everything.
While certainly there is a conscious act of thespian masque — a considered construct, one is hard-pressed to find any cynicism, guile, or even pretense in his performance. My impression from up close, front right of the stage, was that Herring was acting out a subtle drama with unsubtle songs made profound through expert phrasing and inflection. It seemed that the setlist was cobbled together to form a loose narrative available to only the band and the most committed and attentive fans. Their songs seem built for this almost. Pacing like a sweaty streetcar, posturing like a wild one, posing like the waterfront — all performance, all absolutely honest, Herring took absolute advantage of the crowds’ naked state. He sang to and for them. He locked eyes with every face he could find, handing out lines like personal gifts. Throughout, with absolute physicality, he reached for something, grasped it, swallowed it, thumped his chest, sung it up again, beat the stage, and released it to the starving crowd.
We were starving. Future Islands gave us something great, and for an evening, we were raw and sated. It has been a long time.
