A Tale of Two Kills Show, Live @ Fox Theatre, Boulder, CO, 4.22.09, & Live @ Webster Hall, NYC, 5.02.09

Live @ Webster Hall, NYC, 5.02.09Photos by Merry Swankster Once I arrived at the Fox and found a firm place to plant my feet, it didn't take more than a few minutes for me to wonder why the Kills weren't my favorite band. If not presently at least as an ex-fling. Scratchy, garage-bred guitars raised in electro back alleys are just my type. That they were as mean and ominous sounding as the sneer from the Kills' male half upped the ante on my sudden smittenness. Their sexed-up sound was like a racing infatuation high on even faster drugs. Music that begged to be played loud and reckless, like the two jerking torsos of the band members leaning on one another for support, quivering all the while with the intensity of partners in extended foreplay. It was perfectly suited for a dingy club in a sketchy dead-end in one of the Sohos of the world. While Boulder's sanitized university environment and college hipster crowd doesn't exactly fit the bill of a London or New York bohemian scene, like any perceived reality, it's all about how the senses discern. Getting down with the young drunk lovers indeed. For those unfamiliar with the Kills, or lacking basic concepts of fractional mathematics, the band is a duo - vocalist Alison "VV" Mosshart and guitarist Jamie "Hotel" Hince. The latter might be more commonly known to tabloid followers as beau of Kate Moss, British supermodel, topless yachter, etc. VV's singing fits somewhere in between early Karen O's downtown punk inflection and a detached art-house snob (raised on a steady diet of filthy Classic Rock records, natch). Along with her statuesque presence, de rigueur rocker threads, and a long messy mane of brown hair doubling as facial curtains, she is the perfect archetype for dangerously unapproachable rock goddess. Dude doesn't exactly exude a warm and friendly vibe either. I can best describe him as I saw him - the most coked-out looking guy in the room. Though to be fair he was literally in the spotlight so my observation lacks empirical data to be considered scientific. The tunes were standard representations of their album work. Backed by tracked drums and assorted accompaniment, had the driving rhythms been extended beyond the song structures they'd be shoe-ins for a tranced-out electro act. Luckily that didn't happen. Our show time was cut short on the front end due to the fact we drove from Denver immediately after Franz Ferdinand and also on the back end after Ms. VV succumbed to the effects of Colorado's high altitude. It wasn't pretty, but with this group it's not supposed to be. Still completely worth it from my vantage point. In case you missed it, here are the deets on that story. JK: Following the Denver show's abrupt ending, their subsequent Manhattan gig was, if not triumphant, then at least complete. Yes, we got the "Screamin" Jay Hawkins' number "Spell On You" that the Boulder setlist had inaccurately predicted (a grinding noise-fuck version, no less). Seeing the band live, for the first time since their initial, mesmerizing string of New York shows, I'm struck by how committed the members are to their aesthetic. The temptation to flesh out the line-up with a live drummer or stray bassist must have been present since their first hints of success, but the band's performance is almost entirely based on the desperate interplay of two people. People who maybe aren't even all that good for each other (and I dunno, seeing Jamie Hince pull Allsion's hair mid-song was kind of uncomfortable, still) but can't help but drown out the rest of the world with blinding electro-personal magnetism. Understanding your strength as a band is one vital step that often trips up fledgling groups. I also mused, watching itchy/swoony tracks like "Last Day of Magic" or "Tape Song" that the Kills are both lucky and unlucky to have come up when they did, in a post-White Stripes landscape. Lucky, that people might give them a chance in the first place, unlucky that easy press comparisons might have doomed them from gaining a different audience. If Jack and Meg had exuded an ounce of the unkempt sexuality that the aforementioned songs do, their sibling feint would have been actually scandalous rather than merely eccentric. More CO pics, beyond...