Live Review: The Drums.

Last night, Pulp and Circumstance’s humble blogger overcame the Monday blues to descend on The Drums gig at the Paradise, just another stop on their exhaustive tour in support of sweeping success in 2010. And while it takes plenty of pints and enthusiasm (usually) to impress this little space, the band did in fact do just that with a “night of pop, brought to you by The Drums, with lots of love” and nary any need for the aforementioned liquored up state–creating a romping environment that solidified this band is not a passing fad, but an act of lasting live quality that will forever haunt those kids that turned down her +1 because “it was Monday night…”

The drums in a band pummel the beat–push the rhythm forward. Thusly, the drums can be described as the heart of a band.

Last night, The Drums were just that. The band, that is, and the kit too.

Tight as a fist, the Brooklyn-based outfit charted a course of breakneck speed, impressing an intimate crowd of gig goers at the Paradise–yet another stop on a lengthy tour roster that doesn’t appear to slow up anytime soon.

Thankfully, that is.

What tunes began with brilliant sparse melodic riffs a la seminal post-punk outfit Joy Division, turned into frenetic pop hooks backed by spot-on vocals from frontman Jonathan Pierce and some pinwheel-slash-sways from guitarist Jacob Graham.

Laying into it straight away, The Drums opened with crowd-pleaser “It Will All End in Tears” and kept the energy high for a quick 55 minutes, working tracks off their eponymous debut LP–from breakout track “Let’s Go Surfing” to “Down By the Water”, “Forever and Ever Amen”, and the brilliantly translated live “Best Friend”.

The band evoked a feeling of throwback D.I.Y. ethos thanks to an energy on stage that transcended any previous record hype. It’s as if this late-20-something was transported to the days of yore, when I was checking out bands still trying to iron out their name  (and let’s be honest, their schtick–aesthetic as we all it when we get older) in random friends’ basements.

Only, where those bands have yet to find their true talent, The Drums felt polished but accessible; real, flawed (should have left the backing track whistles and handclaps at home) but genuinely capable of carrying a venue like the Paradise.

It made me want to forget what my life has become; fall in love, breakup so I could spit all over the person and then listen to my best friend write a song about it.

And just like that, the reality that I’d have to get up tomorrow, wash my hair, and head to work crashed down upon me as drummer Connor Hanwick violently kicked his drumkit apart, dismantling the entire gig to the hum of a dropped mic, sending us all on our way.

File Under: The Drums left our fists thumping for more.

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