I didn’t know much about Future Islands before this show so I was surprised to hear the 80s influenced synth pop band have a singer that floated somewhere between Morissey and Meatloaf with sprinkles of death metal snarls worthy of Glen Benton. It was even more surprising to see him strut and pantomime in sensible shoes, high-waist pants, and fitted muscle T. This was all so weird and so charming. Then it hit me. He’s goin’ for a sort of what-if-young-Brando-fronted-an-indie-band thing. The passionate, poetic lyrics served with a dose method acting further underscored that Samuel Herring is a dead ringer for Marlon Brando (somewhere between young Brando and older pre-fat Marlon). I was reminded that I was at an indie show when I leaned over to one of the younger girls in the group and said, “He’s going for a young Brando thing” and she looked befuddled. “You know, Marlon Brando. On the Waterfront, Streetcar Named Desire, motherfucking Apocalypse Now?!!!!! No? What the fuck? Really? Fuck off.” He was in his prime 20 years before I was born and did his last great film when I was like 4-years old so there’s no excuse not to know who he is if you don’t live in a fucking convent, which probably has high-speed internet anyway. What is it with young people? They are so quick to remind you how young they are and that they couldn’t know who that is. You have the fucking internet you fucking idiots! You should know more at 20 than I do now. Fuck!