Ben Kweller and Death Cab for Cutie show their potential with
an amazing co-headlining concert Saturday at Mississippi nights. In
doing so, they go beyond the normal rock concert.

Most times, concerts are just concerts. Doors open around 7 p.m.
with a long line of anxious fans slowly piling into the venue in
hopes of getting a good spot on the floor. The opening act usually
comes on a little after 8 p.m., and plays for about 45 minutes
before sauntering off the stage to half-hearted applause. Nobody in
the audience ever cares about the opening band. Then, around 9:15
p.m., after watching roadies come on and off the stage several
dozen times with guitars, basses and other supplies needed for the
set, the headliner finally strides on the stage to a huge applause.
The band plays for the next hour-and-a-half or so, go off the
stage, then come back for a three-song encore. Yawn.

The Death Cab for Cutie/Ben Kweller double-headliner show at
Mississippi Nights on Saturday started out just this way. The lines
for this sold-out show snaked around and behind the venue, and were
comprised mainly of a mix between indie teenagers there to see Ben
Kweller and older, Omaha-style emo hipsters there to see Death Cab.
A few people in the line looked out of place, but for the most part
it was exactly the crowd to be expected.

The routine carried on to the opening act, +/-. Arriving on
stage promptly at 8 p.m., the band perfectly fit the opening-band
mold. The New York band mixed angular, distorted guitar melodies
with a driving rhythm section.

The songs spoke of dark nights, longing, depression and broken
relationships and anything else that sounded brooding at the time.
It was art punk at its most mediocre. The only saving grace was the
exceptional work of its drummer, who whirled his arms around the
kit, trying to keep some kind of base to the ethereal leaning of
the rest of the band. After about 45 minutes of playing, the band
left to half-hearted applause.

It wasn’t until Ben Kweller got to the stage that the concert
mold started to crumble. He started the set with “Ann Disaster,” a
song off his new album, On My Way, which does not come out until
April 6. Even though the song itself is a great live rocker, the
audience reacted very little, just trying to get a first impression
of the song. He continued on with new songs, playing the poppy, “My
Apartment.” Once again, the audience was at a loss.

The irony of this is that On My Way is an album that is designed
for a live show. At points awash in powerchords and driving
choruses, at others bare and soft, the album provides that perfect
blend of ups and downs that suit a live show. Outside of the
general sound of the record, it also shows a leap in maturity, as
it does away with many of the saccharine elements that are on Sha
Sha. For some die-hard fans, it will be something to get used to,
but since when does repetition equal greatness? Rest assured, the
crowd reaction will change dramatically soon after the release
date.

Finally, Kweller played “Commerce, TX,” off his 2001 debut Sha
Sha. The crowd exploded in a fit of excitement and relief to
finally know what Kweller was singing. And know they did. Rabid
fans sang back every lyric to every song off the old album, even
going so far as to help Kweller when he stumbled through “Walk on
Me.” It was eerily reminiscent of a Dashboard Confessional concert,
except for the absence of teary-eyed emo girls in Weezer T-shirts
standing in the corner.

It wasn’t until he played “Believer,” near the end of the set
that he returned to material off the new album. Once again, the
crowd was relatively quiet compared to the rest of the set.
Granted, it isn’t a fast rock song, but neither is “In Other
Words,” which he then played. The end crescendoed perfectly into
“Hospital Bed,” at which point Kweller finally let loose and romped
around the stage. Kweller ended the set with raucous versions of
“Wasted and Ready” and “Learn Rules.” I’ll hand it to the guy–he
sure does know how to end a show. To be quite honest, if this had
been the end of the show, a very strong majority of the crowd would
have been more than satisfied with Kweller’s performance and the
show as a whole. But, the show was far from over.

Death Cab for Cutie entered the stage to near darkness, and kept
it that way for most of the night. The only real lighting was
coming from behind, masking the faces of guitarist Chris Walla,
bassist Nick Harmer, drummer Chris McGerr and singer/guitarist Ben
Gibbard. This added a mysterious element to the show, as though
they were hiding something from the audience.

Even from the first few songs, there was something different
about what was going on. The band started with old songs that
received surprising audience reaction, as it wasn’t until their
latest, Transatlanticism, that the band got major attention. The
fans at this show were the truest fans–ones that have every album
and EP from the beginning. For even fans of lower stature, these
songs had a resonance that required some sort of reaction.

Then, the band went into “The New Year,” and any thought of a
ho-hum concert went out the door. With every sonic explosion within
the song, the crowd rose and fell with the aftershocks. Everyone
knew something great was happening, and just wanted to hold on for
the ride ahead.

Even when things slowed down for “Title and Registration,” the
power and the greatness were still palpable. It was as if, with
each song, the band released ether into the room, and the audience
breathed it happily.

It wasn’t like the band was doing anything amazing, either. For
the most part, each member stayed in their predetermined spot on
the stage, save for the occasion when Walla would venture to the
back of the stage to play piano. There were no pyrotechnics; no
laser-light shows; no big screen backdrops. They were just
there.

The pinnacle of the set came at the end, with
“Transatlanticism.” The song itself is fairly simple: A simple drum
beat slowly builds as Gibbard repeats “I need you so much closer.”
The rising action, though gave way to a torrent of sound and
emotion. Harmer was on the verge of going berserk as he pounded on
the bass, and Walla moved erratically about the stage. All the
while, the crowd did not move at all–not a head nod, not a toe
tap, nothing. All eyes were transfixed on the stage and what was
happening there. It was a moment that a music fan experiences a
handful of times in a lifetime.

I left that night with the full belief that Death Cab for Cutie
will be seen as one of the most important bands of our
generation.

They will probably never sell a million records, or win Grammys,
or even see the light of MTV, but like the Replacements and the
Pixies before them, Death Cab will be the catalyst for the great
bands for the next generation. If future shows are anything like
this one, both Kweller and Death Cab will find their names in the
annals of our generation as something beyond the regular, beyond
the normal and beyond the routine.