David Byrne

The Arcade Fire

Hollywood Bowl - June 26, 2005

Live Review by Adam McKibbin

To kick off their World Festival, the Hollywood Bowl asked David Byrne to play curator, and the leader of Luaka Bop Records chose wisely, assembling a bill that flexed some exotic flair but, more importantly, showcased the universality of moving, original music.

After Si*Se opened the night by providing an ambient backdrop for the early picnic crowd, the revolving stage brought out The Arcade Fire, a band who are probably still unknown in some circles but have been steadily building a Paul Bunyan-sized legend in others, thanks to a startling debut (Funeral) and live shows that often turn concertgoers into mini-PR machines.

With the sun retreating, the motley bunch from Montreal tore through a well-mapped set list that climaxed with the best songs from Funeral (“Rebellion (Lies),” “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)”). They take minor liberties with their catalog, obscuring the beginnings, and embellishing and extending the closings. On stage, the members caper, running from instrument to instrument, tackling each other, drumming on helmets. All of the live antics add to the charisma and childlike glee of Funeral without distracting from the music.

David Byrne, meanwhile, is long removed from his days as The Next Big Thing, but even all these years later he remains a singular personality in rock and roll, a renaissance man who seems just as fresh and possibly even odder than when he first emerged (his fish-out-of-water peculiarities naturally enhanced, perhaps, by age). Some of his newer material is admittedly lacking, such as his recent collaboration with Thievery Corporation (“The Heart’s A Lonely Hunter”). When it seemed like the students may outshine the teacher on this night at the Bowl, Byrne brought out the Talking Heads chestnuts and got the crowd firmly under his spell (“Road to Nowhere,” “Psycho Killer”). The Arcade Fire re-emerged for a jubilant spin through “This Must Be The Place (Naïve Melody).” Byrne saved his best trick for last, bringing out the Extra Action Marching Band—who seemingly numbered in the hundreds—to tear through “Burning Down The House,” a little Cole Porter, and, to close the night in spectacular fashion, a little Beyoncé (“Crazy in Love”).