The Boxer Rebellion @ Bowery Ballroom, NYC (Paul Bachmann for Live4ever)
Since their formation, it’s been true that The Boxer Rebellion could’ve been anything, from neophyte stadium rockers to Brandon Flowers-esque indie kids a la mode.
Equally, you guess their destiny is as much in their hands now as when the original line up was unceremoniously dropped by a major label after their 2005 debut album Exits.
It’s a multifarious choice which at times doesn’t appear to be sitting too happily tonight with lead singer Nathan Nicholson, whose multi octave voice can, at its most engaging, charm the angels and upon whom the vast majority of the quartet’s stage presence rests. By contrast to their last appearance at the Brudenell, the mood in the opening phases is sombre, almost gloomy: in this atmospheric rather than elegiac mood, there is a depth to their music which can at times feel a little under or overwhelming, depending on your perspective.
Opener Let It Go is a case in point, Nicholson piping “I choose to be happy, so why’s it all feel so bad?” over one of latest album Ocean By Ocean‘s most reflective moments. It’s not until the tension strewn post punk of Step Out Of The Car that the quartet seem to be fully in the room, before a couple more of their older moments – We Have This Place Surrounded, Semi-Automatic – serve as reminders of a past which inescapably was more straightforward than today.
As much as the effort levels and commitment are without question, the touchpaper however still refuses to light and the resulting build up of tension in the room is palpable, with band and audience desperately seeking ways to connect. Much to everyone’s relief, it takes a gesture of open friendship which turns the evening, as mid-set Nicholson and guitarist Andy Smith clamber down from the stage for an unplugged version of Always, the newly enthused crowd now becoming the chorus line, the antidote to frustration found in a complex song stripped back to simple bones.
If after that the night becomes easier to share for both parties, it’s not because any great concessions are being made in accessibility, although a heartfelt Diamonds and Let’s Disappear are at least odes to love in its broadest context, and sweet by comparison to the fractious, dissolute closer Flight. The end of the show’s main body sees the audience left wanting more, but not sure of what; the band’s swift return provides answers in the form of No Harm and Take Me Back, only for the parting of two to be sealed by a spectral The Gospel Of Goro Adachi, itself another tune which doesn’t quite seem to be there.
As we said, The Boxer Rebellion could be anything. Having just delivered their most conventional album, this choice of set and its accompanying flights of austerity was a sometimes confusing one, long on keeping the players steeped in monochrome, distant and wrapped in fog.
This, maybe, is the key: when you can be anyone, choosing to be yourself remains the hardest option.
