Review + Photos + Setlist: Kings of Leon Remains Poop-Free in St. Louis, Saturday, September 25
Let's just get this out of the way now: pigeon shit, pigeon shit, pigeon shit. No rock concert has been stigmatized by bird feces as much as last evening's Kings Of Leon performance at Verizon Wireless Ampitheater. The show served as a make-up date after a literal shitstorm made the band cancel its July 23 show three songs in.
Todd Owyoung Kings of Leon's Caleb Followill at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater. More photos here.
KOL singer Caleb Followill, a frontman of few words, handled the necessary banter earnestly. "I don't know what to say," he admitted during the band's encore. "I don't want to stand up here and try to be funny. Whenever we have to cancel a show, it's not funny. We're just glad you had us back." Fair enough.
With no protocol to follow, Kings Of Leon chose to push through the show unapologetically and use the power of rock and roll to transcend any potential drama. Yet there was a disconnect between the approach and the results; KOL looked, acted and sounded tired throughout its set. The band nailed the "less talk" part, but missed the mark on "more rock."
Sonically, Kings Of Leon was spot-on. The band did as much justice to the songs as it did when it recorded them. "Closer" still sounded like the Cure, for instance, and "Fans" still sounded like John Cougar Mellencamp, and Caleb Followill's gutsy voice filled the unwalled venue without sacrificing his signature creaks and cracks. Other elements of the band's records -- Jared Followill's crunchy bass melodies, Matthew Followill's southern-fried guitar leads and Nathan Followill's dynamic backbeats -- were intact. A fifth King tucked away near the drum kit filled out the songs with additional keyboards, guitars and percussion. The band also got by with a little help from its friends at the mixing board, who loaned Caleb some vocal distortion on "My Party" and drenched the snare drum in reverb for opener "Crawl."
These aural accuracies were impressive but unnecessary, as if making up for the lack of visual interest. Jared pulled off some token bass player moves (turkey necking, power stance) and Caleb turned towards the drum kit exactly twice for some moderate head banging. Otherwise, KOL was far from animated, an act which came off as boredom rather than too-cool apathy a la the Strokes (or even Oasis).
Grainy black and white live video projected on the jumbotrons only amplified the still life shtick, with extreme close-ups of bass strings and tambourines. The video failed hardest on "Revelry," wherein slow fades between Caleb's doe-eyed delivery and the sleeveless, long-haired drummer recalled a lost Guns 'N Roses power ballad video best left in the pre-grunge time capsule.