“We, like, heart U, Seattle”: Les Savy Fav Show the Emerald City Some Love

Brooklyn legends—yes LEGENDS—Les Savy Fav made an inconspicuous appearance at Neumo’s this past Friday night (11/30)…oh wait, it wasn’t inconspicuous at all. Not only was the show sold out, but other bands with shows that night (Fleet Foxes, I’m talking to you) were proposing an exodus to the LSF set following their very own. And, of course, front-freak Tim Harrington put on his usual ridiculously entertaining spectacle. I hate to say ‘usual’ because it implies a humdrum quality, but the result is quite the contrary: what he may lack in vocal or lyrical clarity during a live performance, he more than makes up for in animated high jinks, silly, sometimes unintelligible banter, and a flair for dress-up beyond anyone’s good expectations.

Exhibit A (god, I wish I had a picture): As the band opens with “The Equestrian,” Harrington, donned in a cape and striped shirt, snakes his way through the crowd and hops up on stage to reveal a unicorn for a head. A UNICORN. Ok, so it was stuffed, but the fact that he cut eyeholes, made horse huffs, and sang at least the first song with it covering his head was astounding nonetheless. The innards were quickly discarded into the crowd, and at one point he confessed that he had “just inhaled too much unicorn stuffing. I have to barf. I have to call my mom on my cell phone and barf.” Or something like that—verbatim or not, it was one of several hilarious quotes. Exhibit B: with upper body clothing long gone, Harrington begins fiddling with the mic cord as the intro to “The Sweat Descends” prickles. Just as the song begins to build to the chorus, he jumps into the crowd, makes a bee-line to the back of Neumo’s (I might have touched his hair on the way by), and blazes another trail back to the stage by the end of the song. Giddy fans were eager to help with the cumbersome mic cord. Exhibit C: A few songs later, he began gathering said cord again—what was this crazy bald man going to attempt next? With the assistance of willing hands, Harrington hoisted himself from stage to balcony, serenading the folks in the top level. It was actually quite a feat, and executed with a deftness only a Rocky Mountain Goat could appreciate. Oh, and lots of people got water spit on them.

It’s a shame I’ve only mentioned Harrington so far, but really, he’s hard to ignore. In the face of Harrington’s antics, the rest of the band held the fort and were as steady as metronomes. The set list contained mostly songs from their newest LP, Let’s Stay Friends, but they sprinkled in various fan-favorites as well (the aforementioned “The Sweat Descends”, “Yawn Yawn Yawn”), mostly from Inches. I would’ve liked to hear a song or two from Go Forth, but beggars can’t be choosers. Sublime guitarist Seth Jabour was the resident in waiting while Harrington left for his mini escapades off-stage, and criminally underrated bassist Syd Butler assumed non-Tim Harrington mic duties in between songs. The band also had A Touring Guitarist and a masked man playing keyboard on a few cuts. Sadly, however, many of the celebrity guests that lent their talents to Let’s Stay Friends forwent the opportunity to tour with the band (sorry, guys, but you Fred Armisen fans will have to wait for the next episode of SNL—bummer!).

In an effort to keep the crowd on its toes, Harrington at one juncture revealed that “We’re the band, this is the concert”, as well as disguising himself for the encore in a Hollywood starlet-type getup that included a bleach-blond bob wig and bug-eye sunglasses. He might have also made love to the mic stand once or twice. Absolutely maahh-velous.

As for the rest of the bill, I unfortunately missed the Das Llamaseseses, and the second band was somewhat underwhelming. The Dodos from San Francisco (there’s a joke there somewhere) played an impassioned borderline-Gaelic emo-acoustic set that never really seemed to satisfy. The two boys seemed hard-working enough, but I didn’t think they offered much musical distinctiveness. Check it out if you must.

LSF fans know how awesomely brilliant these shows are, but if you still have your head up your unicorn, pull it out for chrissake and hop—er, gallop to it.

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