Less Than Jake delivered all the sweaty confetti goodness at the Gothic Theatre on Sunday. Photo by .
For my brother and me, going to a show is like a father and son outing. Itap something we’ve been doing together since 1997, when he was 12 and I was 16, during that odd moment in the ’90s when the umbrella of ska opened and gave us some of our mutually favorite bands like Mustard Plug, Goldfinger, the Hippos, Letap Go Bowling and Hepcat.
But the thing is, Less Than Jake aren’t a ska band; they’re just a great pop punk band with horns, regular dudes who write songs about your life and make you feel like you are at the best house party of the summer every time they play. LTJ are predictable, comfortable, fun to listen to, and just, well, awesome.
Eleven years after their debut Denver show — and the first time my sweaty teenage body was toilet-papered and coated in confetti by Less Than Jake — I was happy to see the paper-shooting cannons were still being put to good use. Marching on stage to the A-Team theme at the on Sunday night, the co-leaders of the band, guitarist/vocalist Chris Demakes and bassist/vocalist Roger Maganelli, immediately began making fun themselves, and then the crowd, pointing out suspected perms and drunk girls in tube tops.
They started with “Does the Lion City Still Roar?” off their latest release, “GNV FLA,” and went right into “Johnny Quest Thinks We’re Sellouts,” as the floor of the theater turned into a full-on pit. A rainbow of confetti burst from the cannons, paper veiling the swirling mass of sticky kids as the band then vaulted into “All My Best Friends are Metalheads.” Shirts, shoes and polka-dot bras flew at the stage as LTJ bounced into “Look What Happened (Last Time),” and a visibly irritated Demakes took the shoe and shook it at the crowd.
At this time, Demakes and Maganelli made the executive decision to pull a random young man named Ross on stage, strictly based on the fact that he had a sweet (presumed) perm. Ross (probably no older than 15) was then instructed to put on the polka-dot stage offering and dance through the next few songs. “The Ghost of You and Me” and “A History of a Boring Town” flew by as Ross awkwardly gyrated behind the band.
A visibly intoxicated girl was pulled from the audience, and like a lost scene from “Superbad,” she attempted to grind on the round, fluffy-haired boy. Demakes and Manganelli’s sole purpose was to physically excite Ross, and when the chosen young lady couldn’t perform, she was let go.
Another girl was picked out and given the same instructions, and by all accounts succeeded as Less Than Jake played the now-classic “How’s My Driving, Doug Hastings?” followed by “The Science of Selling Yourself Short,” prodding the unintentional couple in between songs. Released back into the friendly but elbow-throwing pit, the kids left the stage as LTJ went on to play another new track, “Conviction Notice,” followed by “Sugar in Your Gas Tank,” “Krazy Glue” and “Automatic.”
Demakes announced that Less Than Jake may be old, but they didn’t suck, and they were “hotter than those f***ing pansies in Panic At the Disco.” (At this time, the writer of this piece has no comment on Demakes remark, as the blanket statement about two equally-loved, exceptionally talented bands is unquantifiable in her opinion.)
The band’s set ended with “Al’s War” and “Last One Out of Liberty City,” and the lights came up, exposing the whirlpool of skankin’ concert goers. Out of nowhere, two men in orange prison garb and Alice Cooper/skeleton masks appeared mid-song and duked it out on stage. Leaving the theater only momentarily, Less Than Jake re-appeared as one last burst of confetti flew into the misty air. They played “Dopeman” and “Plastic Cup Politics” as a short encore to the 16-song set.
Maybe I am a biased reviewer of Less Than Jake shows (based on the fact that I have seen them seven or eight times over the last decade). But I keep coming back because I love ska, and confetti, and songs about metal dudes and pizza. Much like a father to his son, LTJ always tells Denver we are their favorite city. And like the ugly child, we believe them. But even if they are lying, I’ll take the fib as truth if they keep playing shows here for the next 20 years.
is a Denver-based writer and regular Reverb contributor. Check out her and .
