Over the course of the evening, Smith and Eberhard plucked numbers from albums past, most notably the double disc Filling Up the City Skies (October 2008), which is, along with the debut record, Taking Up Your Precious Time (October 2006), available for free download at prettylightsmusic.com. Most praiseworthy, to my mind, is their sick remix of Etta James’ “Something’s Got a Hold On Me,” a rich, soulful jam made danceable thanks to these two wizards. Smith not only looks backwards, but also pays homage to more modern musicians, such as Ludacris (“When I Move You Move (Just Like That)”), Biggie (“Juicy”), and, more memorably, marries the music of M.I.A. and oldie-but-goodie Wreckx-N-Effect. This last track they performed post-encore, fusing “Paper Planes” and the early ’90s “Rump Shaker.” Step aside, Girl Talk. Competition has entered the Northeast, if only for one night.
A synth-laden, deep beats-boasting, booty-movin’ act like this seemingly belongs at Webster Hall. But truth be told, Bowery Ballroom seemed to instill in attendees (which ranged in age from maybe 18 to about 21 –- aside from a few “fogies” such as myself and date) a certain degree of respect and composure. What might otherwise have been another rager rife with unruly trippers, delinquent drunks and more than just partial nudity, this rock club swung the pendulum in another direction, towards communal love and deference. Peering down from the balcony, bobbing heads, waving arms and pumping fists could be seen sharing the space, swaying this way and that in an unthreatening and manageable manner. Flower children, hipster kids and bridge-and-tunnel types danced arm-in-arm, some decked out in glow-in-the-dark accessories. And I saw more ankle-length paisley skirts and bare midriffs than I ever care to encounter again. While the show supposedly sold out, the room remained an inviting environment, all things considered; it’s almost as if high school seniors got together and decided to get down with their fellow graduates. Every head seemed to know every other head, from the dreadlock’d to the afro’d to the New Era-rockin’ to the clean-shaven to the Janis Joplin-lovin’.
Per chance partygoers kept their temper in check in part due to the audible and visual stimuli surrounding them on all sides. Sensory overload demanded our attention, from the funk meets hip-hop meets techno music to the equally diverse visual imagery. Occupying the back wall of the stage there hung a large-scale digital display show of sorts, an oversized Lite Brite, if you will, timed to match the music. Images included psychedelic ’scapes, outer-space exploration, Tetris-esque cascading squares, geometric and abstract Mondrian-inspired designs, partly cloudy skies, falling rain and rippling water, to name a few. Strobe lights and disco-ball-like lights “flooded” carefully arranged areas throughout the room, also maneuvered in time to the tempo. Evidently, this was an interactive show. Though, fortunately for us, in my humble opinion, the young men spent little time engaging the audience in bullshit banter; as said, they kept going and going, one number flowing seamlessly into the next with little need or room for verbal interruptions.
Not that this was strictly business; oh no. Eberhard was visibly enjoying himself onstage, drumming his heart out and hitting the air with his sticks during breaks between cues. He’d sing along or lip-sync, mouthing deep vocals and flourishing choruses while sporting an ear-to-ear grin. One thing’s for sure, this dude has character and never took himself too seriously, yet never sacrificed delivery. The talented Mr. Smith also looked to be having a blast, his entire body bouncing. He stood tall, his six-foot-nine frame hunched somewhat as he lunged forward then backward (all I kept repeating in my mind was, “that’s torque, for real!”), his motion matching his rhythm as he manned his Mac and his Monome 128. That’s right, no turntables for this guy, which is another notch that sets this pair apart from other industrial, electro, breakbeat-bumpin’ artists.
The enthusiasm Pretty Lights exuded was matched and mirrored by their enamored Manhattan-and-boroughs fan-base and, while some ducked out before the end (is it finals time already?), by and large the venue remained at capacity till the last stroke. Though it was their “first time [they] played a show in New York City,” it most certainly will not be the last. Especially if these acid-dropping kiddies have anything to say about it. In the meantime, keep an ear out for Pretty Lights’ forthcoming release, due to drop this month. Oh yeah, and that too will be available for complimentary download. Just one more reason to love PL and get your ass out to a show. Peep their MySpace page for dates and locations. I assure you, you won’t regret it.
Photos by Pearse Daly
