The Physics of Meaning brought its delightful chamber pop all the way from North Carolina for a small show at the Lion’s Lair Friday. Photos by .
Living up to its reputation for showcasing rising local talent alongside great traveling indie bands in the most appealing dive bar in Denver, the hosted a divergent, four-band lineup on Saturday night.
Too bad only three of them decided to stay and play.
The lineup featured Wire Face, , and Eleanor — but for some reason, Novak left the Lair during the first set and never returned. Thankfully, as surprising and out-of-character as it was, Novak’s disappearing act turned wasn’t even the most dramatic part of the evening. That honor, it turned out, definitely went to the Physics of Meaning.
Eleanor’s set was typically ethereal, a collection of syrupy sweet tunes that seemed to hang in the air after they ended. (The songs definitely had a tendency to stick inside my head.) Frontman Ryan Brasher — on guitar, keyboards and vocals — was joined onstage by Carl Sorensen on drums, Neil Hebbert on bass, Chelsea Latimer on backing vocals and Allison Lotterhos on hammered dulcimer. They have a somewhat-fragile, catchy and emotional sound that recalls Coldplay from time to time with an added dose of earthiness that comes from the brilliant instrumentation of Lotterhos’ hammered dulcimer.
The one drawback to the performance was a mix that was just too loud for the intimacy of the Lion’s Lair. Eleanor’s ebb and flow of passion is best heard just above a whisper and is usually a perfect fit in the Lair’s small cavern. The mix Saturday night was simply too loud, and the volume made it difficult to get swept up in the band’s melodic balladry.
North Carolina’s the Physics of Meaning, conversely, produce an exciting noise that needs to be as loud as possible to fully express its intense charm, and that mix turned out to fit their style nicely. TPoM, on tour from their home of Durham, is the musical project of Daniel Hart (from John Vanderslice’s band, as well as frequently from the Polyphonic Spree), and he’s joined by various live and set musicians in the form of a “chamber rock” band. They come across, both on paper and in their overall sound, like a puzzle piece from the Elephant Six collective, which features bands with a similarly funky musical world view — such as Neutral Milk Hotel, Apples In Stereo and Of Montreal. All of these bands tend to lean stylistically towards a complex, glam-based psychedelia, featuring multi-instrumentalists, long, surreal song titles, and complex and often absurdly poignant lyricism, and TPoM is following right along with that attitude.
Their set started with “In Dreams We Discover Ourselves,” a magnificently passionate and intense violin solo, which bled into a barrage of psychedelic, noisy angst rock. Hart looked a lot like DeVotchka’s Nick Urata, and he mirrored Urata’s modest stage presence between songs. While playing, he wielded his violin and guitar with wild abandon, channeling the spirit of Jimmy Page and showing years of listening to Led Zeppelin and bands like Yes and Frank Zappa — mixing that with serious classical training and talent. Meanwhile, the rest of the band backed him with cacophonous and complex mixtures of rhythm, noise and melody that had the entire place screaming with approval after each song.
They churned through a 40-minute set, and the less-than-packed Lair gained a more intense community with each song. When TPoM loudly proclaimed “I am more myself than ever before” during “Bigger Cities Thicker Doors,” they nearly had the whole place screaming along. Later, during “Song for a Snake Charmer,” Hart hollered out to “sing your favorite song at the top of your lungs, to make you strong,” and charmed the audience to chant along right up to the song’s abrupt, wildly cathartic ending.
The band switched gears abruptly when they came to “Oregon, My Only True Friend,” showing a softer, quiet and melancholy mood as they spun out the ballad. Its lovelorn emotion was enhanced nicely by the juxtaposition of the television at stage left, broadcasting a documentary on the destructive power of tornadoes — a paring of image to sound that I found oddly commonplace for the Lion’s Lair. The setap final song exploded out from the small stage, a satisfyingly loud mixture of prog-rock complexity and the arty noise of Sonic Youth played with the intensity of the Who live. The song had the entire room on their feet and yelling for more. The band obliged with what appeared, based on their almost sheepish surprise, to be an uncharacteristic encore. Itap not very often that I find myself smitten by a band on the first date, but TPoM did it for me.
After TPoM left the stage, it remained empty for about 20 minutes before it became obvious that Novak was not in the venue. (Novak was at the bar earlier in the show, during Eleanor’s set, and I saw him pick up his guitar and head to the front of the Lair at one point. I didn’t realize he had then walked out.) A rising singer-songwriter in the Denver scene, it was extremely uncharacteristic of Novak to walk out on a show, and many in the audience expressed both concern and disappointment at his disappearance.
Wire Face took to the stage and quickly filled up the Lair again with some noisy, complex indie rock. The trio exhibited a style that approaches King Crimson but is heavily steeped in bands like Pere Ubu and the Minutemen. Their short set featured intricate bass fingering and multiple, delay-heavy effects on the guitar, backed by solidly ornate and powerful drumming and vocals. Having been well-primed by the previous bands, the crowd embraced Wire Face and quickly forgot about Novak’s mysterious decision to leave. Still, I’m sure there are more than a few of Novak’s fans out there who are still wondering what happened, and whether they’ll be seeing him onstage in Denver again soon.
Physics of Meaning:
Eleanor:
