The last time O.A.R. headlined in New York City, in
January of 2007, they sold out Madison Square Garden. The band returned to New
York on Monday, June 4 for a stealth show, a night before the release of their
new live CD from that very show. This time, however, the show was at The
Knitting Factory, a venue literally 50 times smaller than Madison Square
Garden. Needless to say, it was sold out.
At about
7:30 on Monday night, it seemed as if no one would dare utter the name “O.A.R.,”
perhaps out of superstitious fear that the very word may render the rumors
untrue. At around a quarter to, a contagious buzz of anticipation surfed over
the intimate crowd of 400. And at just a few minutes past 8 o’clock, the first
few chords of “On Top of the Cage” had fans screaming in delight as they
welcomed O.A.R. to the stage.
The
secret show was listed under the name “Exposed Youth,” paying homage to the
band’s junior-high moniker. Although O.A.R. has been actively playing together
for over ten years, there was a distinct air of a young garage band’s reunion
show. The excitement and energy seemed fresh and new, while the connection
between O.A.R. and the crowd was genuine, like a group friends supporting their
favorite hometown band.
The
quintet did not totally steer clear of its bigger hits (songs like “Love and
Memories,” “Heard the World,” and “Night Shift” all had the crowd singing
practically over the band) but they seemed to most enjoy themselves—and the
audience’s support—during their older songs. Following “On Top of the Cage,”
guitarist Marc Roberge greeted the crowd, lightheartedly giving an overview of
what was to come: “Some things you’ll wanna hear, others you’ll rather not…fuck
it!”
O.A.R. once
again paid respect to their roots during Pearl Jam’s “Porch,” as Jerry DePizzo
traded in his sax for a guitar and Roberge joked he still “mostly” knew the
words. Slowed down a bit, softer, and gentle, the performance of “Love and
Memories” was calmer than its usual energized form from the album cut. The
strange clash between the crowd, singing along but aching to burst, and the
band, tempted by the energy yet tenderly holding them back, created a beautiful
tension.
It was
evident that there was no clear-cut set list, only ideas and preferences,
making the show spontaneous and passionate as fans eagerly chanted their
favorites, and Roberge threw out options—“Tonight”? Or “Patiently”? “Poker”? “Hey
Girl”? Or “City On Down”? The crowd exploded in response to each choice,
chanting one or the other, or sometimes just singing lyrics from neither.
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