There is an uncommon thrill in hearing a band discover and deliver a fresh approach, and this is what Future Islands achieves on the nearly perfect In Evening Air. Wave Like Home contained a. Apr 10, 2014 - F U T U R E ~ I S L A N D S. Thursday, April 10, 2014. From the 1st album 'Wave Like Home' (2008, rare) their song BEACH FOAM.
Future Islands play Kings Thursday, March 3, and Friday, March 4. The 10 p.m. shows cost $10–$12 each.
×Live ecstasy, tragedy and catharsis, but so much more: Future Islands in Raleigh
A Future Islands show begins politely enough. The Baltimore-via-Greenville, N.C., triokind of, sort of claimed by the Triangle, toowalks onto the stage and sheepishly waves or nods to the crowd. Sam Herring provides some warm-hearted 'thanks for coming' banter; mostly, he just seems out-of-his-mind excited to play a show.
They start: An ominous bouncing beat from J. Gerrit Welmers' synthesizer drops, and bassist William Cashion allows a grimy, melodic bass line. Herring, the frontman, arches his brows, hunches over and begins stalking the edges of the stage. He smacks himself in the chest and face, like it's a hardcore show.
For the next 45 minutes or so, Future Islands tear through their damaged, often tragic dance songs for the pleasure of another devoted and seemingly ever-expanding crowd. Herring's a nut in front of an audience, moving so quickly it seems that he's teleporting from one side of a usually pretty small performance space to the other. He sings in a strange cadence that's kind of British but maybe just nebulously fancy, always manic. At the right moment, his voice downshifts into a throaty, demonic wail, raising the emotional stakes of whatever bittersweet song he's performing. There's really nothing like it.
It's understandable, then, but ultimately unforgiveable to hear Future Islands dubbed 'a live band.' Sure, a Future Islands live show is pretty much incomparable to any band working right now. And, sure, the atmosphere is always delightfully communal. But being called a live band means that, at least for new listeners, the emphatic live reputation might precede the band's recorded output. And that's unfortunate, really; Future Islands' records are as noteworthy as the live sets.
If you've ever heard them, that is: Most of their music isn't all that easily available. The 2006 EP Little Advances was self-released and is now only available as a digital download, and their 2008 debut album, Wave Like Home, was put out by the British label Upset The Rhythm. Many of their other releases are fairly limited EPs and singles that are, indeed, easiest to access at gigs. Constant touring is how they made their name. At least the band's live reputation makes pragmatic sense.
The real shame, though, is that Future Islands remain underrated because their live shows maximize fun, while their studio recordings turn those very same songs into knotty, depressed dance music. They wrestle with disappointment and what happens when, well, shit just doesn't work out. 'Nu Autobahn,' from Little Advances, is a cynically propulsive song about a utopia that will never come. 'Isn't it wonderful to be so alive, outside?' Herring asks, in a croaking, distant yelp that suggests a guy trying to will a feeling into fruition.
During Wave Like Home's closer, 'Little Dreamer,' Herring wistfully reminisces about more innocent, though no less existentially confused, times: 'When I was just a child, a lonely boy/ I held onto my dreams, like they could run from me,' Herring muses, backed by quiet synthesizer and bass and the ambient sounds of the outdoors. 'The hopes I harbored fled, as they often do.' The trio's emotional seriousness belies its reputation for ostensibly spazzy dance music.
More accurately, Future Islands are willfully out of step with the genre by its current definition. They seem intent to send dance music back to its more thoughtfulbut just as visceralorigins. This is not the hedonistic dance of mainstream pop right now or the chintzy sugar rush indie stuff that exists solely for otherwise shy dorks to wild out to. No, this is a throwback sense of dance as communal catharsis, where pain's out in the open, mingling with the beats. For Future Islands, the rise-and-fall structure of dance music is inextricably tied to the up-and-down emotions of living and loving.
'Long Flight,' from last year's In Evening Air, painfully recounts a return home to discover a cheating girlfriend in flagrante delicto. The song begins mockingly, with beachy keyboard sounds and a jaunty bass. With every detail, it grows darker and more intense: 'I found you at home, what was our home, with another man.' As the song builds, Herring repeats the sentence 'you just needed a hand,' adjusting it with a new emotional context each time around. Sometimes, it's an almost sympathetic attempt to understand why people cheat; at other times, it's a cleverly cruel way to remind that ex just how fucking stupid and low-stakes her indiscretion was. She only wanted to get off. 'You know you hurt me so bad, just cause you just needed a hand,' he writhes.
By song's end, Herring's repeating that phrase over and over again like it's the only thing keeping him sane. Finally, he spits through gritted teeth: 'You know you hurt me so bad,' letting out one of those goblin screams, angrily screeching heartbreak across the track. Live, the song's prefaced with stage banter: 'This song's about a guy who went on tour for four months and when he got back, he realized he'd lost everything he loved. It's a true story.' It's haunting. It's also, in its own way, music for fist pumping.
Like all of Future Islands' releases, In Evening Air is a bummer. Much of it jumps around like a Future Islands live show, but the songs are just as apt to simmer down or curl up and cry in the corner. It's their best record, and it's sort of a breakup album. It's also the release least like their live shows.
On 'Tin Man,' Herring adopts a wizened approach to heartbreak, barely maintaining his contempt for jaunty idealists. He declares, 'I am the Tin Man,' half-jokingly identifying with the heartless character from Oz as he tells someone younger, more hopeful and less worldly-wise: 'And time goes by/ And you've got a lot to learn in your life.' The album's closer, 'As I Fall,' consists mostly of Herring repeating, 'I can't touch you anymore, I can't tell you how I feel,' until the song builds to a drone of hisses and, ultimately, fades away.
These aren't feel-good lyrics, but they're also a rarefied kind of sad. In Evening Air contrasts with the communal catharsis that happens when the group's onstage, but it's a devastating listen and the best case for Future Islandsa thrilling live band, I concedeas purveyors of inescapably painful recorded music, too.
The velvet curtain quickly rose to reveal a band that was led by something not quite human.4AD,2014
Purchase:4AD Store
9.0 / 10
Standing in a sold-out crowd of mostly 30-something Los Angelinos, I squinted through the red light as the velvet curtain quickly rose to reveal a band being led by something not quite human. Despite our over-hyped expectations (the Letterman performance was the talk of the evening), Future Islands’ lead singer Samuel Herring burst to the forefront of the stage at the Fonda Theater and challenged everything the crowd knew about what it meant to be a performer.
It’s safe to say that most people reading this article have seen Herring’s spot on Late Night With David Letterman. If not, go watch it now. Stop reading this article, scroll to the bottom of this page, and watch it. You will likely fall into one of two camps: a group that thinks Herring is overdramatic, pandering, and embarrassing; or a group that recognizes music is meant to be an expression, and Herring’s performance is a refreshing display of emotion. The latter needs to go see Future Islands in concert. The former should probably stick to shoegaze and trying to be cool.
The crowd at the Fonda Theatre needed to see a band who actually cared about music on a truly guttural level and wasn’t afraid to show it. It’s rare that an LA crowd actually gets up and dances, but they took Herring’s energy and reflected it right back to him. Bathed in blue, Herring lurched and strutted across the stage, reaching out and doing his best to touch the entire audience. Those who weren’t close enough to touch his hand, or feel his direct eye contact could have easily seen him from a mile away — his body twisted, turned, and literally ran across the stage. It was only two songs into the show before Herring had completely sweated through his entire wardrobe.
Much like in the Letterman performance, Herring’s band stood almost as still as statues. While some may criticize their stoicism, I have to imagine it’s a totally conscious effort: Herring is the show, and much like a frame on a picture, nothing else should distract from the focus. That having been said, the most dynamic drummer or guitarist would look boring next to Herring.
Between songs, Herring offered commentary: Before “Balance” — from their 2011 release On The Water — Herring explained, “This song is for the young’uns out there. Chill the fuck out, everything’s gonna be alright, ok?” Clearly Herring truly feels for the audience. Meanwhile, each of his lines seemed to torment him, and only by singing them out loud could he be relieved. During a few songs (“A Dream of You And Me” and “Walking Through That Door”) he pounded his chest so hard, I was honestly concerned Herring would stop his own heart. At other moments, Herring crumpled down onto the stage, looked the people in the eye, and carefully conveyed the lyrics to the fortunate few at the front. Near the end of his main set, Herring launched into a much anticipated version of “Tinman”, and the audience quickly lost their shit. While sweating my way through the pit (and as my pits quickly filled with sweat…), I watched as the crazed crowd passed a guy dressed head to toe in a tinman costume. He never made it to the stage (boo security), but it made the audience go even more insane-r.
Near the end of the show — while somehow Herring’s energy remained steady — he began to undulate so wildly that he moved like an inverted bobblehead. His body darted left and right, while his head remained inexplicably stationary in space. Moments like this proved that even if Future Islands wasn’t producing a single sound at all, we would still be completely transfixed by Herring as simple performance art. Similarly, the normally reserved LA crowd couldn’t help but do something completely out-of-character — talk to each other. One woman couldn’t contain herself, and told anyone who would listen, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God! Don’t you just love him?” Normal behavior for a teeny bopper in Kansas perhaps, but way off script for a 35 year-old woman with a shaved head from Echo Park.
If anyone questioned Future Islands commitment, the band played a full 13 song set with four encores, including a request from the audience (“Beach Foam”, one of the first songs they wrote as Future Islands), and an older track, “Little Dreamer” (from 2008’s Wave Like Home). During the final song, Herring asked the tech to raise the house lights, and lower the stage lights — Herring said he “wanted to break this artifice.” Future Islands is all about the people who love their music, and Herring left no doubt that he was willing to nearly kill himself to connect with his audience.
Setlist:
1 “Back In The Tall Grass”
2 “A Dream of You And Me”
3 “Walking Through That Door”
4 “Balance”
5 “Before The Bridge”
6 “Doves”
7 “The Great Fire”
8 “A Song For Our Grandfathers”
9 “Light House”
10 “Seasons”
11 “Tinman”
12 “Long Flight”
13 “Spirit”
E1 “Fall From Grace”
E2 “Beach Foam”
E3 “Vireo’s Eye”
E4 “Little Dreamer”
1 “Back In The Tall Grass”
2 “A Dream of You And Me”
3 “Walking Through That Door”
4 “Balance”
5 “Before The Bridge”
6 “Doves”
7 “The Great Fire”
8 “A Song For Our Grandfathers”
9 “Light House”
10 “Seasons”
11 “Tinman”
12 “Long Flight”
13 “Spirit”
E1 “Fall From Grace”
E2 “Beach Foam”
E3 “Vireo’s Eye”
E4 “Little Dreamer”