DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE
In Concert
When: Oct. 12, 2008
Where: U of I Assembly Hall

Official Site, MySpace, Wikipedia

The sound of Ben Gibbard's clear bell-like tenor over the soft chords of an acoustic sent shivers down my spine. All in all, an incredible concert.

WHEN I WALKED into Assembly Hall on Sunday night for the Death Cab for Cutie concert, I was surprised to see such a small crowd — A and B sections loosely filled, a small number of people standing in a group around the stage.

Being a tad early, I expected more people to come and fill in, but the late-comers only started to trickle in during the last few minutes of the opening band, So Many Dynamos. It didn’t take me long to discover why they had waited.

What can I say about So Many Dynamos? They’re loud. In fact, they are mind-numbingly, excruciatingly loud, coupled with intense repetition and sound effects reminiscent of alien-shooting video games. So yeah, if you’re into that kind of thing, they were amazing. I personally am not.

And their stage manner is, frankly, creepy. “Hey there, friends!” The sugary-sweet comments (and there were a lot; the lead singer did more talking than singing,) paired with their angry, loud music gave me the impression of clinical insanity. And I don’t mean just a little out there. I mean full-blown hallucinations and voices insane. It was a little scary.

After half an hour of So Many Dynamos, I was retreating into a state of shock from all the dissonant noise and flashing strobe. And then they left, and I was thanking God while I waited for my hearing to return in the half-hour intermission.

Then it got dark, and Death Cab for Cutie took the stage to a chorus of angels. No joke. A crescendoing major chord and ethereal blue lighting sound clichéd, but I have to say it was impressive. I guess you had to be there.

And then, without talking, without so much as tuning up, they broke right out into their first song, "The Employment Pages," a favorite of mine from one of their earlier albums, "We Have the Facts and We’re Voting Yes." This surprised me; as a hardcore Death Cab fan, I recognized the song and got into it pretty fast, but the rest of the crowd didn’t seem to recognize the 2000 release.

After that, though, Death Cab shifted into a more recent vein, including songs from their albums "Transatlanticism" (2003), "Plans" (2005), and, of course, "Narrow Stairs," released last May. And after a while, they broke down their vow of ignoring-the-crowd silence, and Ben Gibbard introduced the band.

About halfway through the concert, the band stuttered to a stop again, and Gibbard took the mike to specially introduce the next song, the wildly popular "I Will Follow You Into the Dark." Though the actual intro was rather corny ("This is for all you out there who don’t have someone to hold you when it's cold"), the song was unforgettable.

All the lights went out except for a single white spotlight on Gibbard. The song was done entirely acoustic, and the sound of his clear bell-like tenor over the soft chords of an acoustic sent shivers down my spine. I have the recording of this song; I have the whole album. I’ve listened to it many, many times.

But seeing it live? Unforgettable.

And how can you follow up such an introspective, sweet song like that? Easy.

Eight minutes of creeping bass and piercing piano, the slight dissonance buried underneath just enough to make you shiver a little; an edgy, nervous kind of song. "I Will Possess Your Heart."
Only Death Cab could follow up a love song with a stalker ballad. And, strangely enough, they pulled it off perfectly. The crowd went wild.

Finishing off the concert with their first real hit, "Champagne from a Paper Cup," seemed to me at first as not one of the best ideas. After all, if "The Employment Pages" didn’t go over well, why would this? "Champagne" was released as a single in '98.

But it seemed not to matter; the crowd was pumped up enough that they would have cheered for anything. And yes, the song was amazing.

And then Death Cab for Cutie walked off the stage. And the crowd cheered. And cheered. And cheered. And then they came back.

As the band launched straight into one of their most popular songs, "Title and Registration," the crowd went wild, and I could see even from where I was sitting the big grin on Ben Gibbard’s face.

The band played two more songs, finishing up with the seven-minute ballad that gave their 2003 album its name, "Transatlanticism."

Actually, seven minutes isn’t really accurate. It’s seven minutes on the CD. Live, it kept going, and going, stretching the last few repeated lines for minutes on end. And the crowd kept cheering. The last note of the song echoed even after they left the stage and the crowd began to file out; it died down just as I reached the door.

All in all, an incredible concert.