Silver Speakers that Sparkle All Night

courtesy+of+Syracuse.com

courtesy of Syracuse.com

Fiona Leary, Managing Editor

Neutral Milk Hotel Live at Ommegang:

Much to my surprise, the small farm-like grassland concert venue at the Brewery Ommegang didn’t feel like a brewery at all. Taking a look around, I realized I wouldn’t be spending the next five hours indoors. Much to my dismay, I’d be standing in the pouring rain without a raincoat. I’d neglected to check the forecast, because, after all, who would have expected a brewery to mean outdoor concert?

Despite my complete obliviousness to the venue’s location, hundreds of huddled hipsters hunkered down in the muddy pathway to the venue entrance, donning mittens, hoodies and ironic flannels. Everyone was willing to stand in the rain for Neutral Milk Hotel, and even though I lacked the proper attire, this was a band that was worth seeing even in the worst weather conditions.

During the two hours between the opening of the gate and then first act appearing on stage, barbeques sizzled and campers pitched tents as the outdoor music festival-like atmosphere radiated with a buzz of excitement. All were in awe as the sun collapsed over the Catskills, and a pastel pallet of sunset hues burst over the mountains.

Just as the summer sun set, the opening act emerged on stage. A 60-year-old-man in a necktie, business shirt and shorts introduced himself as “Brian” and played a series of what seemed to be children’s songs, titled “Back to School,” “Last Day of Summer” and “Money,” among others. By the confused look on the faces of audience members, it seemed that no one was expecting a man like Brian to be opening for a renowned psychedelic-folk band straight out of the 90s. The crowd expected an explanation from Brian, but none was given.

Brian eventually left and as the lights went low, Neutral Milk Hotel mounted the stage, greeted by a crash of yells and screams. By then, the rain had stopped.

Jeff Mangum, the enigmatic, bearded front man, approached the microphone as he played the first song, acoustic and alone. The mellow song was followed by the rest of the band running off and back onto the stage, as Magnum screamed, “1,2,1,2,3,4!,” exploding into the song, “Holland, 1945,” a tribute to Anne Frank.

The band continued to display their influential brand of trippy-indie rock with a variety of instrumental innovations strewn throughout the set. During, “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea,” Julian Koster played a series of saws with a violin bow.  The band also fiddled about with a series of other instruments including accordions, guitars, drums, a bass, a bell, and so many others that it became difficult to keep track. With these instruments, the band was able to create a myriad of different sounds. It truly felt like the concert was being played by a different band throughout, allowing grungy rhythms such as “Gardenhead/Leave Me Alone” to coexist with slowed melodies where Magnum would play solo, such as “Baby for Pree.”

Halfway through the set, Mangum thanked the crowd for their attendance. He also said a special thank you to Brian, the elusive opening act, and explained that Brian had designed the iconic NMH phonograph present on merchandise and album covers. This information was greeted by the crowd’s unanimous sigh of, “Ohhh.” At last, the mystery was solved.

The band never lost energy throughout the show; they played just like they had before their hiatus, perhaps with even more vigor. Mangum’s vocals, while sometimes screechy on record, took a melodic flow with exemplary range. Often times the crowd would attempt to sing along, but quit as no one’s lung capacity could match that of Mangum’s.

The show concluded with an acoustic ballad titled, “Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2”, played by Mangum, likely his most personal piece. He articulated every word as if it was his last, and let each chord, though only six or seven exist in his repertoire, ring out with meaning.

Neutral Milk Hotel came and went like a sun storm, a ghostly presence that lit up the world for an hour.  Yet, in the blink of an eye, they were gone.  No band has ever left me with such a feeling at the end of a show.

NMH may someday be revered as the greatest band that no one knew, but it is for sure that their music will never die. Perhaps it’s because attendees of the concert in Cooperstown (and elsewhere) have become acquainted with unforgettable music not simply seen or heard, for Neutral Milk Hotel is not a singular sound or a sight; Neutral Milk Hotel is an experience.