This is about as dynamic as Mogwai gets, and that’s OK. Photos by .
Upon walking into the Tuesday night, my boyfriend, perhaps inadvertently, told me all I needed to know about what to expect from a show. “It doesn’t matter where you stand,” he said. “It’s Mogwai.”
It’s true because, no matter where you stand in a theater, Mogwai’s intensity bounces off of every surface, resonating in your bones, your muscles, your skin. It’s true because Mogwai is not a terribly physical band — their movements were small and almost imperceptable from where we did stand, just behind the sound booth.
It’s also true because whether you’re a Mogwai first-timer like myself or a seasoned longtime fan like so many that came to the show, the end result is the same. The few songs with lyrics cut each listener to the core with their complexity and force. And the naked surface of each wordless song become an empty page on which each of us write our own memories and heartbreaks.
This particular show featured openers , a Canadian band with a stripped-down drumkit and a restless yet precise guitar-centric sound drawing heavily from the likes of Sonic Youth. In the swirl of their set, I was impressed by the enthusiasm of drummer Michael Wallace, who hammered his floor tom with a tambourine and kept the heart of Women’s sound beating strong.
However, the nebulous guitars lost me at times, as the band seemed to have trouble finding its center. Once Women realizes the full potential of their four very talented musicians, I will be first in line to see them headline the Bluebird. But on Tuesday, they seemed a rather bombastic choice to open for Mogwai’s sophisticated, focused sound.
Mogwai took the stage with a simple, humble, “We’re Mogwai, from Glasgow, Scotland,” and proceeded to dive headlong into “I’m Jim Morrison, I’m Dead,” with an almost businesslike efficiency. It became immediately clear that this is a band that has had over a decade to fine tune their onstage presence. It shone from the graceful juxtaposition of a glochenspeil on thundering guitar noise (as in their truly majestic rendition of “Ithica 27-9”) to their crashing, psychedelic finale.
But their cohesion and dedication to their craft was best exhibited in the band’s frenetic, slow-fast-slow opus “Summer.” Though the band is known for deriding this, their most popular song, they played it with passion and exactitude.
He was right. It didn’t matter where I stood. I could have been crowded in the balcony, pushed up against the railings right down front, or retreating back to the bar. And these songs would have been just as penetrating, striking and unrestrained from any vantage point.
Cassandra Schoon is an assistant manager at and a regular Reverb contributor.
Julio Enriquez is a Denver writer and photographer, editor of the blog and a regular contributor to Reverb.
