Maximo Park >> ‘Hello! We are Max-eemo Park!’ said the overtly enthusiastic British lead singer Paul Smith after a delayed start time, to which the lethargic Friday-after-work crowd of music and booze lovers cheered.
The band, which hails from Northeast England, was playing at the Troubadour for the 3rd time since their first album release in 2005.
The Troubadour, being one of my favorite LA small concert venues due to the awesome acoustics and vintage vibe, was quieter than usual after a week of record-breaking heat. The mostly 20-to-30-something crowd was a mix of singletons, couples, families, random old dudes, and groups of friends. In essence, the music was suitable for all kinds.
Despite having had only 1 hour of sleep after flying in from San Francisco earlier that morning for an interview at the local treasure public radio station KCRW, the band managed to pull off a relatively lively performance. This was greatly due in part to Smith’s awkward dance style, which resembled a gangly version of the-robot-meets-Vogue [Vogue-bot, anyone?], and was so animated he managed to destroy his song sheet early in the set. His line, ‘My frantic dancing feet have annihilated the stage,’ summed it up completely.
The rest of the band seemed to be running on fumes, though still energetic even despite several technical difficulties with the mic that caused Smith to sound like bad cell phone reception mid-song on a couple of occasions.
There were repeat requests for an encore of ‘Leave This Island’ to which Smith coyly replied that a young Irish roadie had told him that U2 started and ended their shows with ‘Vertigo’ and left it to the audience to interpret as they pleased [presumably not in favor of].
I preferred their punk-style songs, which seemed to be less popular with the crowd but definitely got me more in the mood [dinner sangria was a sleepy choice]. They also played several singles off their new album that left me wanting more.
Overall everyone seemed to be having a great time, including the band who reminded me of the kind of guys who hang out on their couches drinking lager and telling stories of funny times past. I’d hang out with them if I could, especially the keyboardist. Eventually, they zombie’d their way off stage to what I hope was a good—and hard earned—night’s sleep.
Danielle
