I rarely see such an excited crowd at such a small show – not to mention one that was only half full. Larimer Lounge in Denver was nowhere near capacity on Tuesday night, yet each body was pressed together in the front half of the floor; eagerness to see the upcoming musical duo up close having overcome the desire to distance oneself from strangers. Like one body made of many parts, this human blob squeezed closer and tighter as the lights dimmed and Buke and Gase appeared on stage.
Before they began, I met a few of that night’s fans, and some had driven from two or more hours away to witness the band play live. Luckily they had secured a spot right in front, on the corner, next to my favorite spot to shoot photos – otherwise, they might not have seen much of anything that night. This crowd was full of tall men in a proportion I have never experienced. They might have made up a full third of that night’s patrons. And they also really wanted to be front and center.
In the hundreds of shows I’ve seen in the last decade, most have been at small to mid-size venues. Many have been at places like Larimer Lounge, one of the smallest. They offer extreme intimacy, both with the band on stage and with the crowd with which you end up spending the experience. It’s easy to go alone and not feel isolated. They are often quite affordable (still) and feature great local and up-and-coming bands as openers. But they can also be quite a challenge, and not just for photographers like me.
In the few minutes before Buke and Gase emerged from the back room, the lights dimmed to a level I have also never experienced.
(This show had a lot of challenging firsts.)
Having shot this venue before (Half Waif), I knew it would be a challenge to get the shots I wanted, but I didn’t expect it to be impossible. My camera whined in protest as I desperately adjusted the settings to let in as much light as possible without making the images blurred and grainy. The focus refused to settle. It was no use.
I decided to move from my coveted spot and see if other angles could provide what I needed. When they didn’t, I could not return to my corner as it had been taken over by newcomers and – another first – a young man in a wheelchair. He deserved that spot more than I did because there was nowhere else in the room he could have seen the band from. I looked over at the mass of tall men in the center of the room, pressed into the stage and speakers, and knew it was hopeless. The lights, the space, and the people had all created the perfect photography failure.
I took a mental step back, as I was also supposed to be enjoying the show.
Buke and Gase had begun with the first four or five songs off the new album, Scholars, before diving into older material which the crowd also recognized. Smashed against the barrier between them and the band, the fans were head-bobbing and swaying to the heavy beats. Everyone, all 40 or so of them, were intensely into the music. Arone Dyer (her) and Aron Sanchez (him) soon sat down with their unique instruments and really got into it themselves, enjoying every minute of their performance, Dyer often ending songs giggling and swinging around on the swivel chair.
Dyer also did the small talk between songs. “How do you fucking survive in this dryness?!” she commented, a common refrain by touring musicians while in Denver.
Towards the end of the set, Dyer and Sanchez returned to the newer stuff, with “Wrong Side,” and a version of “Pink Boots” that built the suspense with an alternative intro. They also included a recent remix of “Flock,” which they claimed hadn’t been played in front of anyone else live. However, it just sounded like a club version: louder and extremely bass-heavy.
When performing live, Buke and Gase exist in the gray area between sounding pre-recorded because they are so good at what they do and have faithfully adapted their studio creations to the stage, and sounding like a once in a lifetime experience. Sure, there’s the visuals of them and their instruments – but no exciting lights or stage elements, nothing besides the performers to look at.
Usually, at an intimate venue like Larmier, that’s more than enough, to simply be in such proximity to the music being made right before you. I tend to judge shows on not being able to look away; a show needs to offer a compelling reason to keep one’s eyes open and focused on the stage. Even the opener, Like A Villain (Holland Andrews), existed on stage simply with her body, two microphones, a pedal board, and a clarinet. Yet I was so moved by her performance, that I could not bear to look away. And yes, I couldn’t see Buke and Gase for a decent part of their performance, but they still offered little that night besides an accurate reproduction of their latest recordings and some basic small talk.
The one moment I truly felt like I was alive, present, in the moment at their show, was when they actually lost the song in the middle of “Grips.” Dyer yelled “Fuck that song!” – in a good-natured way – and she exclaimed that they’ll get it next time. “You’ll have to come back!” she said. I loved that they just let it go. They didn’t restart it, they didn’t pick it up at some point in the middle. They just gave up on the song and dove into “Flock” instead.
It is a testament to Buke and Gase’s hard work.
Having produced these songs as faithfully accurate live versions, especially knowing about the improvisational method in which they made them. But these by-the-book reproductions leave little room for letting them feel truly live. And I hate (hate!) to criticize one of my favorite bands and favorite releases of 2019, but I’m not sure it was worth it to see this show. These two musicians deserve to be seen and celebrated while they perform, and while I expected the best, this venue and the attending crowd that night hindered that significantly.
It looks like I’ll just have to come back next time.
