Mute Math at the 9:30 Club
Fall is truly here, heralded by the return of crisp (read: flipping cold) fall weather and return of coat check to the 9:30 club. Yet southern bands Jonezetta and Mute Math received a warm welcome from their overwhelmingly youthful audience at Thursday’s early show.
The night’s opener was Mississippi’s Jonezetta, an energetic quartet who demonstrated affinity for the kick drum and fuzzy guitar. On their web site the band claims to be intelligent, danceable pop in the style of Franz Ferdinand. Live Jonezetta sounds like the Scottish group as covered by the All-American Rejects. Their songs reflected their youth, with single word titles like “Backstabber” and “Popularity,” containing a particular brand of outrage that especially speaks to adolescents.
Though the songs were aurally indistinct, all were enjoyable and the band ripped into each as if discovering it for the first time. Between songs the band’s manner was refreshingly unassuming. Their onstage banter consisted of deadpan statements followed by a half-mumbled “that’s cool.” (This was much more endearing than it sounds.) While musically having room to grow the band delivered a fairly satisfying opening set.
As for Mute Math—wow, just wow. Their set had you thinking almost wholly in interjections. “Dude!” — for when the drummer secured his head phones with gaffer tape. “Sweet Lord,” as lead singer Paul Meany attempted hand stands while playing the keyboard. A “Holy [insert expletive here]” at the appearance of a Keytar.
Consummate showmen, the New Orleans-based group had an almost theatrical focus on the visual. Their setup included three florescent light panels, two halogen light panels and one large central incandescent bulb. Their intriguing set up featured multiple keyboards, a sample board and a drum kit at the edge of the stage, constructed for doubling up on percussion. All were thoroughly used in service of the band's arena rock/elctro pop sound.
The show began with a moody piano-based instrumental in the glow that single bulb. The band then merged into “Typical,” a song of workday malaise with the sound of a more glam U2. Like the aforementioned Irishmen, Mute Math are not a Christian rock band but Christians in a rock band. This is only worth mentioning to explain the rapturous devotion of the crowd. This brand of adulation is generally unique to quasi-spiritual bands like Live or Creed.
Lead singer, Meany, performed with an enthusiasm just short of mania. Generally, there are two kinds of pianists: introverted and extroverted. The former plays as if having an intense, emotional conversation with the instrument, conveying emotion by curling evermore into the keyboard (i.e. Fiona Apple). Extroverted players use the piano as a prop, playing from every angle (i.e. Jerry Lee Lewis). Meany belongs in column B. He repeatedly jumped on the center keyboard, later rolled over it and hopped the circumference of the stage. Yet, the most energetic person on stage, far and away, is drummer Darren King. The man is easily one of the most powerful forces currently behind a drum kit.
The audience and band fed off each other’s energy, reaching new heights with every song. In the crowd, vigorous bobbing lead to spontaneous clapping and then to sustained pogo-ing When Meany climbed his keyboard, one audience member responded by having his friends push him up in a cheerleading lift. By “Reset,” the awe-inspiring encore, there had even been some crowd-surfing. Despite overloud instruments and sometimes inaudible lyrics, Mute Math put on a spectacular show. It should be interesting to see what they can do with everything going right.
Photo of Mute Math from their MySpace page.