Jay Reatard & The Black Keys @ The Riviera (4/12/08)

I handed my printed-off Ticketmaster ticket (what the fuck!) to the gatekeeper of the Riviera, expecting some kind of orderly barcode-scan or basic display of interest in my identity -- pretty standard stuff these days, so imagine my surprise when he just ripped the barcode off the sheet with a massively-jaded expression and let me in. I- I could have just printed out 30 of those things and no one would have even noticed!

Oops! Not that I'd have any friends who'd be particularly stoked to see Jay Reatard OR the Black Keys with me because they are, respectively, unknown or (Daaaaaanger Moooooouse!) seen as having loosened their own quality control standards as of late. Jay & crew appeared with zero fanfare, strolling hesitantly onstage wearing Urban Outfitters sneakers (tag still dangling :\) and silly white-kid afros. As an actual fan of their debut Blood Visions -- but with no image of the band to go by -- I was pretty confused by the dreadful aesthetic brought on by the 2001-kids-dressing-for-the-'80s style and the obvious, distracting youth of the members. Shit man, the no-vocals guitarist didn't look a day over 16 as he emphatically lipsynched the songs (far more convincingly, yes, than Jay himself) and wailed on his TOTALLY BODACIOUS white Flying V. ... ???

The band played through maybe 10 songs in 20 minutes, never really stopping in between, to a crowd of mostly drunk and confused morons and one guy (Our Hero, paris.by.night!) dancing like a complete goon. A quick check of their MySpace revealed more than one comment consisting of "GREAT SHOW GUYS, SORRY THE CROWD SUCKED SO MUCH". Seems only a select few are into this? We'll see how these clowns change their tune when Jay plays Pitchfork this July. That's right, I loved the show - I just closed my eyes to the blinding aesthetics and enjoyed it like I enjoy the record. I recommend you all do the same.

Anyway, The Keys came on to a roar of annoyingly-relieved applause and played a damn good set - damn good! - until something about (new lead single) "Strange Times" sent four frat boys on a convulsive moshing spree down the floor. Who on earth would want to mosh to blues? It felt awkward and unwanted for all subsequent tracks except "10AM Automatic", enough of a straightforward stomp-rock affair to almost justify the number of broken noses that inevitably left the theatre that night.

And uh, Patrick can really play. That alone's worth the price of admission. Charmed, a little hesitantly.