Owen Pallet was an interesting compliment to The National. His proto-folk was rife with powerful, intimate lyrics and the delivery was unique. One friend described him as Andrew Byrd meets Beirut, whilst another well-versed friend described Owen as an Andrew Byrd that doesn’t fuck-up as much live. Owen and a single musical partner built subtle, fragile walls of loops by layering chord progressions and melodies one at a time. Most of this was done with Owen’s extremely versatile violin. He could use effects to create the sound of a bass guitar or drum on his violin, loop the rhythm, then play a keyboard melody, add it to the loop, and add violin melodies and vocals to the top.
The National brought their darkly personal and brooding indie rock “A” game. The band was taut and crisp as they moved through what are quickly becoming classics, like “Anyone’s Ghost,” “Squalor Victoria,” “Conversation 16,” “Abel,” “Daughters of the SoHo Riots,” and “Fake Empire.” The guys released the gripping tension Matt Berninger’s somber songwriting by ribbing him about his melancholy lyrical style. Matt and the rest of the band sprinkled witty banter in between songs (and constant refills of white wine) and kept the capacity crowd engaged for an hour and 40 minutes.
The drinking, the banter, and the Ohio-bred sense of stark realism made me draw the comparison of a more mature and refined Guided by Voices. I told this to National super-fan and St. Pete Times / REAX columnist / photographer “Sonic Gabe” and it seemed like I punched him in the stomach. Maybe I’m wrong.
Towards the end of the show, Matt left the stage to serenade the entire HOB audience with “Terrible Love” by working his way around the floor and toward
the back bar. The National’s encore was perfect with a rousing version of “Mr. November” and a gentle unplugged (not just acoustic, but totally unplugged – no mics, no amps) sing-along with the crowd and Owen Pallet for “Vanderlyle Crybaby Geeks” – a sweet little butterfly kiss goodnight.
Lewis better be a girl … wait …
This is a great concert moment … Here is another vantage (from the floor) from thequitugs.wordpress.com
A really cool way to end the show. The crowd takes its cue and hushes …
Another perspective of “Vanderlyle” from a friend.
and an iPod. They played the majority of their debut album, Treats, with ear-splitting high energy. Derek Miller’s guitar wailed as the sexy Alexis Krauss screamed and danced through their small, but powerful setlist including “Kids,” “Tell ‘Em,” and the closer, “Crown on the Ground.”
Pat on drums and the seductive Nancy Whang on a myriad of synth and assorted keys seemed to steal the show. They were assisted by a number of other musicians, working in guitar, bass, and all kinds of percussion to recreate (and outdo the recorded versions) the swell and build of songs like “Dance Yourself Clean” and “All My Friends.” They ended the first set with “Trials and Tribulations” then incredibly powerful and high energy, barn burning versions of “Movement” and “
The new band is rock solid with Jeff Schroeder absolutely shredding and sharing lead duties with Billy. New bassist, Nicole Fiorentino, is as good as any bass player SP ever had and she has only been there for 2 months. Mike Byrne, musical prodigy and 20 year-old replacement for Jimmy Chamberlin on drums, is absolutely phenomenal and was able to carry the incredibly heavy load of a live Smashing Pumpkins gig. The band was tight and playful as Billy and team shot glances, smiles and laughter back and forth. From my vantage, no one got the dreaded “You fucked that up” scowl that Billy can shoot from time to time – except maybe a sound guy off on stage right for the first few songs. Even then, Billy seemed to laugh it off. Before lighting into a sintering “Cherub Rock” Corgan joked that the show was over because he had some 
set of songs from It Still Moves through Evil Urges and sprinkled in 3 or 4 new songs. They exploded with ear-splitting volume on the opener, “One Big Holiday” and shook the foundations of the quaint little amphitheater. MMJ has the ability to move from serene to explosive on their albums and do so with even more force live. Jim James is the type of frontman that takes over the show with his voice and his guitar, making the attack more visceral. He howls and screams and snarls, all while shredding his axe, playing with distortion and effects, and brandishing the guitar boldly in the air or slinging it around madly. This is a musical rock ‘n roll frontman at his best – non-verbally declaring “this is my guitar, this is my dick, suck on it.”
As for the venue, the St Augustine Amphitheater is truly a hidden gem. It is old and mainly supports the elderly community in the area with plays and shows, but recently someone brilliant has had the idea to bring rock bands in. It is small (around 5,000 at the most) and intimate, yet twice as loud as anything at the lame Ford Amphitheater. The night was made better with easy entry, easy parking, a laid back staff, full liquor, decent beer, and easy exiting. It is close enough to the beach to get a consistent sea breeze moving though the place. MMJ played under a full moon and the slightest sprinkles of rain came at two different moments. The moisture held the fog from the fog machine lower and thicker, lingering on the stage and in the crowd. This worked with the lights and added to the some of the psychedelic jam outs. The Preservation Hall Jazz Band opened the show and joined MMJ on the encore for three songs including covers of New Orleans native Al Johnson’s “Carnival Time” and Curtis Mayfield’s “Move on Up.” At times it seemed the breeze was choreographed with the music and James filled the air with an expansive howl, a gentle wind would rise up and blow through the crowd carrying thin wisps of rock fog and marijuana smoke into the night air.
