(all photos by Sam Spencer)
Midlake has done little that has caught my attention since the release of The Trials of Van Occupanther in 2006, with the exception of a delightful collaboration with The Chemical Brothers—which turned out to be more of a cut-and-paste sing-along than an actual ‘collaboration’. Their latest album, The Courage of Others, shamelessly pencil dives into the less exciting, more enigmatic moments of Occupanther, leaving no one doubting that these guys, with every nuanced, flute-based progression, are big time fans of Jethro Tull.

In a recent interview with the A.V. Club, Smith described the new album as “a little darker than Occupanther, a bit more mature”—it is not infrequent for a band to confuse darkness with maturity, making listeners wade through a swamp of introspection in the follow-up to a successful album. Even so, when I heard the band was going to be at the Southgate House, I thought I’d give the album a shot at redemption in a live setting, just in case.

But beforehand, and sort of at the last minute, it was announced that Jason Lytle (formerly of Grandaddy) would be opening. I missed him last time around, so I was thrilled. I expected that Lytle’s latest album, Yours Truly, the Commuter, would dominate the set, but it didn’t. In fact, I was nearly caught off guard when his high-pitched, breathy voice opened by singing “it’s happiness that matters anyway.” The line comes from “Sarah 5646766”, a track from The Windfall Varietal, which came out a decade ago. Back then, guys like Lytle were still touring with Eliott Smith.

Meanwhile, he was relaxed and timid on stage, guitar in hand, sitting behind a Casio with the label taped and written over to say “J-as-on.” A drum machine and small mixer were duct-taped to the top of the keyboard. With the lights all pointed at his stationary position, a sky blue trucker hat shadowed his face; it was a classic Grandaddy moment. Lytle only played six songs, which he noted to be in respect of everyone’s busy Sunday evenings. Before starting his third song, a brand new one, he warned the audience that it was “sort of a crazy song,” but then proceeded to play something that could have been an acoustic version of almost any song from The Sophtware Slump. Just like the custom, autographed, one-of-a-kind “Brand New Sun-glasses” that he was selling at his merch table, I got the impression that this JL concert was minutely different from any other. And while it may have failed to captivate those who are unfamiliar with his past work, his set was a real treat for longtime fans.

Around thirty minutes later, Midlake took to the stage, in front of a large backdrop bearing the image of their latest album cover. They flaunted the live potential of the heavy, drawn out jams of Courage, revealing some truly exciting moments in the album and proving there is at least one good place for a jazz flute vs. Les Paul dueling solo. The Southgate House ballroom was just right, with cigarette smoke floating through the air of an eager and excited crowd. Immediately, the extended, seven-piece version of Midlake expressed gratitude toward their long-time fans, and opened with two songs from their back catalogue. Their presence was obvious and impressive, just as the songs were epic—that is, if you had the patience to stay with them. Following extended versions of “Fortune” and “Bring Down”, I even heard one especially Ted Leo-looking guy say, “that was a f***ing adventure!” Personally, I can’t say that it wasn’t.

That’s not to say that the performance was flawless, though technically speaking, it was. You’ll rarely, if ever, hear a missed note from this group of former jazz students. Still, I had to continually ask myself one question: if you’re following a cliché that’s nearly 40+ years old, to the extent that few others are currently willing, is it still cliché? In the 70s, plenty of folk, psychedelic, and prog-rock acts expressed a curious Renaissance obsession, but nowadays, Midlake are in sparse company. However, whereas bearded acts like Fleet Foxes tend to sift out the drudge of everyday, middle-earth life, in exchange for flighty, melodic romanticism, fellow beards like Devendra Banhart and Midlake use meticulous psychedelic folk to tell a slightly darker tale.

-Ben Lehman