The Walkmen
The Music Farm
Charleston, S.C.
August 18, 2006

On display at the Walkmen show in Charleston, South Carolina were more than a few things most New Yorkers probably aren't used to encountering at the average gig: copious amounts of lingering cigarette smoke; blonde, possibly O.C.-loving sorority types in spaghetti strap shirts grooving with their boyfriends to rigid indie-rock as if Skynard were jamming on "Alabama"; a $5 cover (oh the benefits of a Camel-sponsored show); a few curious folk wanting to watch any live band; the ability to buy tickets at the door and $3 imports.

Unsurprising to a band that's been touring consistently for the past five years or so, but for anyone used to catching the New York-based Walkmen's often languid, sometimes brittle tunes at densely-packed, sold-out-weeks-in-advance Bowery or Irving Plaza shows, the show's relaxed, expectedly southern vibe was rather refreshing even if the air was damn near suffocating.

As a unit, the Walkmen are a smartly dressed, monochromatic crew. Think literature T.A.'s on a break from Dickens or, paradoxically, southern Bible school escapees. Which is to say they sport a familiar look that's probably hell during an infernal summer. Their three-album catalog consistently balances introspection with a bleak anger. Through the years singer/guitarist Hamilton Leithauser's lazy, Billie Holiday meets Dylan howl has emerged as one of the strongest, most memorable voices in modern indie-rock. And at turns the Walkmen can be elegant and lush with shuffling rumbles from Matt Barrick's drums and Walter Martin or Paul Maroon's dusty piano flourishes and at others combative with stiff, skittish beats, punk tempos and bright shards of guitar. By the end of this show, both elements of the band's persona would be on full display for the almost full room.

After politely ambling onto the vast Music Farm stage and offering little more than nods in the way of an introduction, the band started warming up as if they were alone in the large, wooden concert hall. Without pushing, clusters of people sauntered closer to the stage, including a girl standing next to me who offered a little benediction when she said "Thank you for coming to Charleston." I don't know if the band heard her or not.

Lead dog in the pack Leithauser often looked like a barely-restrained pugilist as he howled and tore through songs from all the band's discs. Unlike most indie singers who revel in sullen, slouching or at best crestfallen looks, Leithauser's posture tends to be ramrod straight and often he's got almost the most dissatisfied look of any front man I've seen outside of the hardcore scene. At his most aggressive, he almost looks like a rail-thin prep school kid doing his best Rollins mirror poses.

With minimal onstage interaction, The Walkmen gave the audience a solid show that lagged in just a few places. Naturally, the band covered a good portion of their latest disc, A Hundred Miles Off, and the transcendent, Velvet Underground meets mariachi "Louisiana" seemed to rattle the venue's weathered and slightly-curved wooden roof at the bright horn and baritone sax climax. Named for a D.C. neighborhood, "Tenley Town," the far more pissed off, blistering cousin of "The Rat," (stand out from the band's 2004 disc Bows and Arrows) came off like a lost SS Decontrol or Faith track. I kept expecting a circle pit to happen, but the song was over fast like a vert skater's run, and soon after the woozy "Wake Up" had me forgetting I just watched a band famous for its dour mood give me straight, uncompromising hardcore.

In several ways Charleston is the perfect backdrop for the Walkmen's songs. The small city's cobblestone streets, colonial homes, sprawling oaks and humid air all complement the Walkmen's generally drowsy musical pace. And it's entirely possible the band's toured so extensively that locales get lumped together, and the members had merely a vague sense of their surroundings. But I'm hoping the band realized a good-sized crowd on a night when Hootie was in town is still no small feat.

Originally published on August 30, 2006