6/17, Terminal 5: Metric

It is an interesting exercise to try and gauge just who comprises Metric's fanbase. On the outside, they seem to be a band that very few people would dislike. They make simple, eminently catchy, danceable music; their lead singer, Emily Haines, is seemingly very engaging and attractive--even more the latter if you are looking at her from a distance; and they always pack into their songs a coda or a chorus that is built for audiences to sing along to. But there are people that don't like The Beatles, so clearly it would seem logical to infer that the crowd at a Metric show would be rather narrow in nature. Indeed, it did turn out to be a very homogeneous slice of the New York City twentysomething crowd, but beyond that, it turned out to be primarily composed of people who I have no desire to be near ever again. Social retards, musical idiots, bottom-rung loiterers, the utter dregs of intelligent society. Worst of all, perhaps, was that--as per an on-the-fly judgement I plucked out of thin air--many of the concertgoers seemed to be not simply compelled by Haines and Metric, but singlemindedly obsessed with and devoted to them, treating the band as though it were on the brink of releasing OK Computer, curing breast cancer, and taking eleven Olympic golds. But Metric is totally not about to do anything of these things. I don't even think Emily Haines is that fast.

I decided to skip the show's two openers because, frankly, Terminal 5 is just an awful place to stand idly waiting for 25-minute blocks at a time, which is exactly what I would have been doing if I'd meandered in shortly after the doors opened. Instead, I wandered over to Hudson River Park, stepped over a homeless man (Get it together, Grouch), parked myself on one of the promenade benches, and started reading Jane Jacobs drone on in The Death And Life of Great American Cities about how unsafe urban areas can be if they don't have ample foot traffic. I scoffed at the idea. Then I got brutally raped.

Because of my innate timing abilities, I shuffled into Terminal 5, took a piss, and came out just as Metric was taking the stage. Okay, so with respect to my earlier rant, I need to get this across: For anyone sane, Metric is a guilty-pleasure band. I'll throw them a bone and say that among other guilty-pleasure bands, they are top-notch. But they emanate a vibe of rhythmic simplicity and immaturity that means they cannot exit, at least for the time being, the realm of guilt-causing pleasure music. Now, this is fine, as I like tons of music along these lines--Timberlake, Britney, Death Cab for Cutie, Lily Allen, Saves The Day, Rihanna--but it's fine only to an extent. And where that extent usually reaches the finish line is somewhere in the grey area in which studio albums transfer to live performances. I'm fine blasting "Sick Muse" in my room, through my headphones. But that's because a) I don't have to be around other people who like this song and b) I'm listening to the studio version.

A show takes these two very key aspects and flips them upside down. Not only are you hearing versions of the songs created outside the studio, but you are surrounded by a gazillion others who also enjoy this particular band. And pretty much inherent in the very definition of a Guilty Pleasure Band are two things: Excessive lameness of said band's fans, and a distinct lack of musical skill among said band's members. For the most part, this describes Metric to a tee. The latter quality is further exacerbated by the fact that while Metric's albums are loaded with heavy production, lush multi-vocal arrangements, and lots of multi-tracking, Metric is only composed of four members--one drummer, one bassist, one guitarist, and a lead singer who occasionally tinkles around on the synthesizer. But whereas a foursome like Led Zeppelin can use their serious instrumental talents to overcome their inability to rely on having three guitar tracks when performing live, a band like Metric cannot. So they have two options: Play the song as best they can with all the instruments and vocal power they can muster up. For a band that relies heavily on the provisions of a well-equipped studio--i.e., Metric--this option sucks. Alternatively, they can use all the instruments and vocalists that they have onstage and also supplement it with recordings of themselves playing or singing the missing parts. But this option also blows. I didn't pay money to have an iPod play me songs. I want to see them being played, live, on actual instruments and by actual people.

So this was a rather roundabout way of expressing my displeasure regarding this show. It was okay, but nothing great. If you like Metric, I'd advise that you see them, but only once. And generally, if you get out of a show and are somewhat glad it's over, that pretty much tells the whole story. Metric makes good bar and club music, but by and large, they're not a very special band. Certainly, I assumed this going in, so my reaching this conclusion doesn't shatter my preconceived notions of all that is right and wrong in the world. But the actual show only reinforced, and didn't offer much to disprove, my idea of Metric as an unserious band.

I specify "didn't offer much" because I have to say that the solo that James Shaw ripped at the end of "Gold Guns and Girls" was certainly one for the ages. Nearly worth the price of admission alone.