Trust me, I don’t like being a bad guy – Mr. Negative. While some journalists seem to relish the idea of slamming someone hard, that’s not where my heart is. I’m all for telling the truth, but sometimes it hurts to be that messenger.
You see, I’m a fan. I’m a fan of Owl City.
It all started last year when I was working at the office late one night. As I often do, when I’m tackling other “busy work,” like reading and replying to email questions, laying out a story or editing one that’s been turned in, I’ll play some “new arrival” music. We get, on average, about two CDs per day from various record labels and publicists. This particular CD was more-than-likely a non-Christian rock album of sorts, since it was on Universal Republic. At least that’s what I figured. This label has signed some artists of faith and/or artists that have a connection to the “Christian rock” scene. There are basically two kinds of “connections” that will trigger our coverage of an artist in HM Magazine – either an indirect connection to Christian rock, like, say, Dashboard Confessional (former lead singer for Further Seems Forever) or Bob Dylan (whose public conversion was a big deal in the ’70s) or more directly, like Underoath, As I Lay Dying, Disciple, etc. So, there was a chance that this random new CD I was playing would be an artist that we would cover, but the odds/percentage numbers weren’t great. As I listened to this electronic pop music, I was entertained, so I kept listening. As I listened, I sensed “there’s something different about this artist.” I was certainly captured by the witty lyrics and attention to wordplay (lines like “…please take a long hard look through your textbook, ’cause I’m history…” and “…riding a dirtbike down a turnpike always takes its toll on me…” from “Cave In” or the super silly tongue-in-cheek silliness in “Dental Care,” which states the following line over a bouncing beat: “…I’ve been to the dentist a thousand times, so I know the drill…”).
There was so much infectious joy in the music, “I thought, “hmmm, this songwriter might be a believer.” The unrestrained fun of the danceable bridge of “Umbrella Beach” was fused and bookend-ed by this incredible swell that seems to pull your heart out of its rib cage as it swirls around the room. When I got to the song “Meteor Shower” I was stopped in my tracks. I heard the singer say, “I am not my own. I have been made new…”
I immediately tweeted my “discovery” – “This artist is a Christian! Has to be…” For those in the know, these are kinda fun moments. It’s like you sense the community you’re in is expanding. It’s fun. Less than a month later I made sure to catch their way-too-early daytime set at Cornerstone Festival 2009. It was just one guy (Adam Young) hunched over an Apple notebook on a stand, as well as a keyboard, assisted by another guy, who played along occasionally on another keyboard. Without hardly any fanfare at all he was able to make the room move like a skilled dj. This was endearing, but it was many plays of the Ocean Eyes album last summer and into the early fall when the music started taking up a permanent residence in my heart. The hooks were so catchy that it was like an addictive drug. If Black Sabbath or Pink Floyd were a “downer” (barbiturate), then this was definitely an “upper” (amphetamine).
Then I saw Owl City play at Emo’s the night before Halloween. I took my then 13-year-old daughter and a male friend from school, and we met up with a visiting intern (Corey Erb) at Emo’s to see a crowded but certainly not full indoor stage bounce along to the 12 songs from Ocean Eyes. Instead of two guys flipping switches and pressing keys, they had a band! We’re talking drums, guitar, keyboards and a cello player! The extra, somewhat organic instruments found a way to take the electronic tunes and fill out the sound. It was a brilliant move that definitely worked.
Besides the fact that I was basically chaperoning my young daughter’s first “date,” I knew this show was a moment in time. It was obvious this band was blowing up and it’d most likely be the last time (for a while at least), where you’d have a chance to see them in a small room. Two months later a local pop rock radio station brought the band (with one more string player on board) in for a big Christmas party. About 4,000 people in the two-story Austin Music Hall sucked some of the lightness and energy out of their sound, but it was still intact. The intimacy was gone, but the infectious joy filled the lungs of now over 10 times the voices singing along to tunes like “Hello Seattle,” “Fireflies” and “Vanilla Twilight.”
This show was at the roomy Stubb’s outdoor stage, which is another mid-sized venue (a few thousand). The first thing I noticed was the increased production. On stage were a pair of keyboards, a drumset off to the (stage) left, a couple chairs for the string section, and a large xylophone next to a keyboard stand. This was bordered by a plexiglass sound wall that kept these percussive instruments from possibly bleeding over to the drumset and string section (or vice-versa).
There were lights. Lots and lots of lights. For the first three songs I had the best seat in the house – inside the barricade that kept a sandwiched crowd about five feet from the five-foot-tall stage platform. During those three songs I was able to see Young play four different instruments – including one of those distorted hand-held mics for a specific section of verses. First he came out and played the drums, then switched to the microphone at center stage. He played a little keyboards and then sported an acoustic guitar for “The Bird and the Worm.” Later he played an electric guitar, showing off his dexterity.
The string players were new people (still girls). The alternate keyboard player manned the xylophone when needed, as well. When the band played a tune like “Cave In,” it sounded kind of like a remixed version. Yeah, the sound was full, but I wasn’t feeling it in the same way. The slamming bright lights used in the power chord accents at the end of the song are well timed, but it really made the show feel like it was a production – a very big production. I’m not sure I like it.
“Dental Care” had the crowd clapping along and both the xylophone and drumset got a good workout. “We have this song about bugs,” Young announces, and the crowd goes nuts and sings along to “Fireflies.” Then he addresses the audience and asks them, “How are you feeling right now? That makes two of us. Lots of us…” It sounded kind of staged, even when he tells the audience they sounded “fantastic” during the song “Fireflies.”
The long-winded sample of Ronald Reagan’s speech after the Space Shuttle Challenger exploding was pretty darn moving, though; which set up the song “Metor Shower” quite well. “Vanilla Twilight” was another favorite – especially with the girls all swaying in the audience. For an encore it was obvious that the set’s omission of “Hello Seattle” would bring it out. It’s an energetic song and it sounded good.
“Texas, you’ve been so much fun. I’m going to take a shower. See you next time.” Then it was over.
I could see this coming a mile away – fall in love with a band in its formative months, see them blow up and slowly but surely fit into a bigger and bigger production on a bigger and bigger stage, expanding the songs composed in a small Minnesota basement … and somehow seeming to lose some of the life they had. I hate to say it, but it wasn’t as good as before. Perhaps the magic was made for smaller, more intimate settings. How are future giant festival stages going to go over?
Ya gotta commend the guy for tweaking things as he goes along, trying to make it better for each tour. I just wish it was improving the overall experience at this point. Now I sound like so many indie rock snobs that like a band when no one else did, but now stand critical of same band. I can’t say my enjoyment of the album has diminished one bit, but that last show just didn’t do it for me.
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