TV on the Radio Turns on the MIA

North Americans only have three more chances to bask in TV on the Radio’s Nine Types of Light before the band dives Down Under and (most likely) wraps their 2011 run for good. While Moogfest (with Flaming Lips, Moby, Suicide, Chromeo et al) might sound like the more remarkable of the dates, I’d recommend New Orleans’ Voodoo Experience, where Brooklyn’s finest will stand alongside the likes of The Raconteurs and Fatboy Slim. Why? Well, because The Big Easy is a badass city and TV on the Radio is a badass band.

It’s unquestionably the kinda kickass combination that made TVOTR’s Fillmore Gleason show such as badass affair. Forget the fact that the rouse went down just blocks away from where the models-and-bottles crowd now hangs out, for even South Beach was built upon mean streets (see Scarface), and it only takes a lean outfit like TV on the Radio to remind us that all that glitters wasn’t always gold. There was something strikingly golden about those years though, and I still hold fond memories of its tarnish.

Now I’m not talkin’ about romanticizing our collective checkered past as much I’m insisting we herald its unmitigated reality — the brutal candor of living face-to-face with life itself. That’s the takeaway I get when confronted with the roarful sound of TV on the Radio; a takeaway that was raucously compounded on Tuesday at The Fillmore. Whether they were ripping through post-prog-punk tracks such as “Dancing Choose” and “The Wrong Way”, or the Lodger-era likenesses of “Caffeinated Consciousness” and “Young Liars”, or the intricate sway of “Second Song” and “Staring at the Sun,” there was an undeniable truth to the music. To hear such an honest racket in a town founded upon so much dishonesty is (and was) a remarkable thing indeed.

When TV on the Radio blasted through the shape-shifting “Wolf Like Me” my wild night was made. The brunt force fervor, the rush of blood to the skull, the sheer kick of absolute creation — this is just how the now should be experienced. Thanks fellas, for turning us on full blast.

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