1,273 DEATH CAB FOR CUTIE, Slow Pulp, London Royal Albert Hall, Wednesday 29th March 2023

 

This one should have made perfect sense… Death Cab For Cutie, enduring Seattle alt-rock veterans and the black jeans-wearing, thinking US indie-fan’s second favourite band (after The National, of course…!), have recently inveigled their way back into the forefront of my listening fashion, their plangent return-to-form 2018 effort “Thank You For Today” being followed by 2022’s splendid “Asphalt Meadows”, possibly their best effort since those halycon early 00’s days of “Transatlanticism” and the seminal “The Photo Album” (still easily their finest work for me). “Asphalt Meadows” is an altogether more upbeat and immediate effort, whilst still replete with DCFC staples as intelligent songcraft and introspective confessional lyricism, and I confess I had difficulty picking a favourite track to represent them on my “Best Of” 2022 mix CD! So, an initial announcement of a one-off date at the Royal Albert Hall piqued my interest enough to cough up the rather steep ticket price, in the hope of hearing DCFC’s trademark clear, melancholy melody and musicianship displayed to best effect in these ornate and opulent surroundings…

 I hit the road at 4, and, as per the recent Killing Joke gig here (gig 1,269), parked up at Osterley and tubed to Gloucester Road for the hike to the venue, albeit in anticipation of a slightly less visceral and brutal (and hopefully better-sounding) experience than that one! Sorted out some family stuff on the phone after grabbing a central spot a few rows back, but my head was back in the game for openers Slow Pulp at 7.30. Beloved by DCFC’s main man Ben Gibbard (a point he made frequently during their set), Slow Pulp weren’t a plodding version of Jarvis’ 90’s lot, rather an alt/dreampop/ Americana collective from Wisconsin. After a wistful and wispy opener, “I Don’t Get” was a little more upbeat and robust, the set subsequently switching between these 2 paces of material. It was all pleasant enough, smooth and dreamy indie-lite but nothing really stuck; even a later, grungier number with Pixies-esque power riffery seemed, well, polite, the blonde vocalist even breaking out a harmonica for the full-on hushed Americana closer “Backwoods Man”…

 I shuffled back to 3 or 4 rows back to let some tiny girls in front of me, but even approaching showtime there was still fairly ample space to move around in my position. Sell-out? Didn’t feel like it… Ben led the troops on at 8.30, easing into opener “I Don’t Know How I Survive” under a single spotlight. The quiet opening to this number should have led to the startling riff underpinning the hook, but unfortunately it sounded too echoey and bassy on arrival, with not enough of Ben’s more nuanced vocal (made more notable by Ben’s predilection to go slightly off mic for his delivery) or guitar sound in the mix. Oh dear, here we go again…

 The anticipated pounding strident backbeat of “The New Year” was drowned out by even a polite singalong from my fellow punters, and despite Ben’s obvious energy, kinetic enthusiasm and clear pleasure at playing here (“sometimes we say we’re happy to be places but we’re not; but we’re really happy to be here!”), the sound never lived up to his/ the bands performance levels or my expectations. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed their performance in large part; an early “Movie Script Ending” was plaintive, understated and quite lovely, the undulating riff of a groovy “Here To Forever” was splendid, and an acapella outro to the slightly menacing “Black Sun” was sung back reverentially by the crowd. However, like that House Of Love 2018 Roundhouse gig (gig 1,110) I just wanted it to sound better, fuller, clearer, more…

 “After the last month [on tour] I swear we should be sponsored by Boots!” quipped Ben before the metronomic chug of “I Miss Strangers” , actually the best and fullest sounding number thus far. Further nostalgia stories followed about their first London dates at the Dublin Castle in 2001 (“the [house] mic smelled like it had been in somebody’s ass!”) before a suitably melancholy, piano-embellished “Rand McNally”; then a solo acoustic “I Will Follow You Into The Dark” was a beautiful, heartbreaking paean, wonderfully observed and accompanied by the crowd and easily the highlight of the main set. “Asphalt Meadows” was another highlight, building to a layered crescendo, before Ben drew the DCFC “recital” to a close with “a prayer to the American West”, the talking verse and chiming riffery of “Foxglove Through The Clearcut”, almost a companion piece to Clem Snide’s excellent “I Love The Unknown”.

 

A 4-song encore featured an almost jolly, strumalong “Soul Meets Body” and gushing thanks from Ben (“never mind a career highlight; this is a life highlight”) before “Transatlanticism”; comfortably the best and best sounding number of the night, the solo piano opening ceded to the rhythm rolling in like the tide, before the cymbal crashed in like breakers on the shore as the repetitive hook built to a crescendo. Great way to finish an ultimately enjoyable, if uneven and frustrating, near-2 hour performance. A slow walk back to the tube, then a maddening drive home down a roadworks- and speed restrictions-riddled M4 got me home for a tired 12.45. Ugh! So, it should have made sense, but kind of didn’t – 2 poor sounding gigs in a row at such a prestige venue as the Royal Albert Hall is, frankly, a bit shit really. But none of those issues were down to Death Cab For Cutie; they did their best to put on a fine performance, so fair play for that, but next time I see them I’ll hope to go somewhere that the sound works properly…