The War on Drugs is currently the Great American Rock Band. It’s a designation that was relinquished in recent years by Wilco, My Morning Jacket and The Hold Steady, while Adam Granduciel’s Philly-based project had seemingly been just that — a one-man project. But something changed with last year’s Lost in the Dream, an album that expanded their music both in sound and personnel while retaining its most essential elements: droning soundscapes, intimate lyricism, and heartland rock ’n’ roll. With that record — arguably 2014’s best — the leap in the studio had already been demonstrated. But how would it translate to a live setting?
Thousands piled into Tulsa’s Cain’s Ballroom last night to find out. It was The War on Drugs’ first Oklahoma gig, and the venue proved to be an accurate barometer: big enough to house a breakthrough band in its prime, but hospitable enough to cultivate the intimacy of its smaller-venue performances. The other occasions in which I’d seen The War on Drugs — once in a record store, another in a cramped back room of a bar, and most recently opening for Destroyer in a 500-person listening room in Dallas — were highly predicated on creating a connection with the audience, a more difficult feat when the numbers creep into the quadruple-digits. But the audience was welcoming and open-minded from the get-go, and the music recompensed.
Rising indie-rock act Hop Along, another Philadelphia product, opened the evening with a spirited set despite vocalist Frances Quinlan being ill. (She thanked The War on Drugs for inviting them on tour, but also for the meds they provided.) Their on-point performance of “Waitress”, from their forthcoming album Painted Shut, proved especially pivotal — at least to my personal enjoyment of the set, considering that it might be my favorite song of the year so far. The rest of their performance bounced (hopped?) between new material and songs from 2012’s Get Disowned. Given the buoyant poppiness of their sound, it made for a bit of an odd pairing with the more mesmeric War on Drugs, but the band performed admirably under less-than-ideal circumstances.
Between sets, the smell of fog machines (and, ironically, marijuana) began to permeate the dimly lit venue, and the tone of the crowd had palpably shifted. The band had obviously amassed an impassioned following in its Oklahoma absence, and from the moment the drums dropped in opener “Under the Pressure,” it was apparent that The War on Drugs had evolved from quaint indie act to a massively polished and complete band. Everything from the rack of guitars at Granduciel’s disposal to drummer Charlie Hall’s headband felt like these guys had acquired a recently developed, larger-than-life aesthetic, yet their songs still penetrated on a deeply personal level.
I think it was at some point during “Eyes to the Wind” when, upon scanning the crowd (namely the dude next to me, who was either on molly or having a music-induced spiritual awakening), I came to the realization that it wasn’t just me who literally got the chills during the second half of “Burning”, or whose heart fluttered when Granduciel reached for his harmonica. This modern incarnation of The War on Drugs transcends my own personal connection; it’s a band whose densely immersive brand of Americana appeals as much to middle-aged rock traditionalists as modern musical progressives — the rare case of an act that actually got better as it became bigger and more accessible. All of that was on display last night at Cain’s. Aspiring Great American Rock Bands, take note.
Setlist:
“Under the Pressure”
“Baby Missiles”
“Arms Like Boulders”
“Burning”
“Lost in the Dream”
“An Ocean in Between the Waves”
“Disappearing”
“Eyes to the Wind”
“Red Eyes”
“The Haunting Idle”
“In Reverse”
“Come to the City”
Encore:
“Blackwater”
“Mystifies Me” (Ronnie Wood cover)
“Suffering”
