In the two personally and publicly eventful years that have passed since his last full-length album, Ted Leo has toured restlessly, with and without the Pharmacists. His latest leg of full-band shows, with punk-rock torch-bearers Titus Andronicus, kicked off at Baltimore’s Ottobar, to a smaller-than-expected but receptive and diverse crowd.
Sleeper Agent!, the new band of DC-hardcore lifer John Stabb (best known as frontman for ’80s also-rans Government Issue), offered serviceable punk ruckus for the pre-gamers filtering in, mingling and drinking before the better-known acts took the stage. Stabb, hunched over but looking and sounding younger than his 40-some years, dedicated songs to “the Dixie Chick who spoke out against America” and people who lost their jobs in the recession, in what would be the night’s most explicit sociopolitical statements. Sleeper Agent! neither distracted nor compelled: as goes the common opening-act cliché, the guys on stage were more into it than the crowd. That said, Stabb’s performance antics were occasionally grating, as if (like many DC-hardcore vets) he still needs to perfect the difference between being a punk and being an asshole.
Exemplifying punk’s shift (some might say descent) from the external to the internal,
relative upstarts and proud solipsists Titus Andronicus took the stage next. Frontman Patrick Stickles, in a tight yellow tee and bushier-than-ever beard, lethargically mumbled his between-song banter, with a literal shoegaze. Whatever stamina the possibly wasted singer had was channeled into a thundering live set that blazed through most of the band’s fantastic 2008 album The Airing of Grievances. Born into self-actualization and dying slowly from Patrick Stickles Disease, he screamed, sneered and shouted his articulate lyrics, as if raging against the futility of life. Life raged back a lot fucking harder though, thanks to his band’s overpowering aural assault. Stickles and guitarist Liam Betson supplied a thundering but precise twin guitar attack that, in its most lyrical moments (such as the epic conclusion to “No Future Part II: The Day After No Future”), conjured a more reckless Lloyd and Verlaine, even toppling microphone stands and leaving the stage tech to give a shit. As Stickles pointed out, this was Titus Andronicus’ fourth Ottobar show this year. Lucky for Baltimore music fans, no Titus Andronicus show is the same (or even features the same line-up), but each has delivered intense, off-the-rattling-wall energy.
In his black polo shirt and snug black jeans, sporting a sensible faux-hawk, Ted Leo was a bit more workman-like than the Titus boys — chalk it up to the difference between thirtysomethings (who consider this a job) and twentysomethings (who consider it a lark) — but no less invigorating. With right-hand-man guitarist James Canty anchoring this incarnation of the Pharmacists, Leo led his troops and followers through an hour’s worth of propulsive, pogo-ready rockers. The proven crowd-pleasers — “Where Have All the Rude Boys Gone,” “Me and Mia,” “A Bottle of Buckie”— were positioned to punctuate more obscure choices. Leo even pointed out the set’s emphasis on “new and extremely old” material. Thankfully, the road-tested new cuts, including “Even Heroes Have to Die” (debuted that night), held the crowd’s attention, and offered a promising preview of the as-yet-unscheduled new album, suggesting an equally catchy transition from indignant Bush-era outrage into cautious Obama-era optimism. He deftly interacted with the audience throughout, rattletrapping about L’Trimm, joking about his weakened hearing, and responding to a request for “Since U Been Gone” with a sly “you should know better by now.”
Fitting for this all-ages show, with a crowd ranging from those born after Chisel disbanded to those born before Leo himself, Ted Leo came across as a punk rock nice guy, his music more melodic than abrasive, his sentiments more idealistic than nihilistic.
Leo is the type of performer who will smash his Fender in a set-ending climax, and apologize for that hissy fit during the encore. He rewards the die-hards and courts the newcomers with equal aplomb: like any long-standing indie stalwart, he has witnessed and avoided the dangers of being exclusionary. He has survived 20 years in the punk/indie world through passion, ambition, and adaptability, emphasizing songcraft and hard work over scenester or political didacticism. Such values prove that it’s not just the Jersey heritage that regularly gets him tagged an underground Springsteen. Thankfully, his shows are much more affordable.
by Charles A. Hohman
[Photos: John Packer]
