Let them eat Cake

Author: Melissa Marshall

Students jonesing for something sweet and artificial left Kenyon Arena with a bad taste in their mouths on Saturday night. Headliners Cake - best known for their stunningly simple and highly addictive 1996 hit "The Distance" - undeniably proved their prowess as performers. But they also proved that pop is a dish best served without politics as a main ingredient - especially when you add a 30-rack of Pabst Blue Ribbon to the recipe.

With quiet confidence and complete stage command, lead singer John McCrea casually took front and center. Framed in front of a set which boasted a lush mountain backdrop, his well-cultivated beard and worn button-down all accentuated the image of a saintly wild-man, his simplicity alluding to a sense of inner peace that apparently only ironic detachment and '90s alt-rock success can bring. And while we may be "building a religion" as McCrea's emotionless yet oddly engaging speak-singing vocals insisted in the crowd-pleasing "Comfort Eagle," the frontman's moralizing did not earn him many followers in the inebriated crowd.

Fully embracing his elevated position on stage, McCrea set the pace for the evening's political and moral overtures, opening with "Frank Sinatra" from their best-selling release, Fashion Nugget. As with most of their tracks, "Frank Sinatra's" societal commentary is cleverly obscured in its repetitive jazzy and sensually danceable composition. But lines such as "beyond your latest ad campaigns," tip listeners off to the fact that the Sacramento quintet is not just another product of the decade-old geek-rock movement. After failed attempts to engage the audience in conversation about the Iraq War and unheeded, satirical warnings concerning knowledge as commodity, McCrea decided to show his benevolence by bestowing one lucky audience member with a peach tree - an innovative albeit convoluted stage gimmick. Even though McCrea's environmental sympathies and societal disenchantment were laudable, he underestimated the burning desire of audience to hear "Fashion Nugget," resulting in a concert experience that highlighted Middlebury students' immaturity and McCrea's under-developed and sometimes inappropriate stage banter.

While Cake's music may be complex despite its surface simplicity, McCrea revealed his juvenile professionalism, at one point warning, "I am fussy, I'll walk right off this stage." But in the spirit of Middlebury competition, we put up an admirable fight in the battle of childishness. Despite the frontman's warnings, students continued to obnoxiously yell out song titles as well as harassing middle-aged members of the audience. And while security did a flawless job of stopping waif crowd-surfers, some of their energy may have been better spent on removing hecklers from the crowd. I paid $10 to hear '90s white-boy country funk, not the hoarse-repetition of "Guitar Man" by the boy who sits next to me in English class. But despite his alienating sarcasm in between songs, McCrea and fellow bandmates burned with a contagious fervency on all their tracks.

While he did not say a word during Cake's entire set, trumpeter Vince Difouri often asserted himself as the focal point - his rich improvisations infused a delectably spontaneous layer to "Frank Sinatra," "Never There" and their cover of Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive." Even McCrea's condescending introduction of "Wheels" from their latest release Pressure Point could not dilute the outstanding musicianship of guitarist Xan McCurdy. It even seemed as though McCrea was having fun on some tracks, a boyish smile occasionally relieving his features as he would tap the distinctive vibraslap, much to the audience's delight.

Surprisingly, the band indulged the obligatory audience mantra and came out for an encore. Almost wearily, McCrea delicately delivered "Mexico" before launching into the "ringtone" genre of the show, serving "Short Skirt, Long Jacket" and "The Distance" with a measurably mass-produced mood. In perhaps one of the most disconcerting concert moment, he encouraged a markedly corporate competition between the audience, dividing the front rows into halves and frantically goading them to out-chant one another in the closing beats of "Short Skirt." The final crumb thrown to the audience was the lukewarmly successful single,"Never There." Still, its freshly frustrating lyrics weaved with the energy of the trumpet and percussion was the icing on a thoughtful, kinetic and overall impressive set.

And if you have gotten this far, you are probably wondering why I have yet to mention opener Mates of States. And that would be because they were fairly unmemorable. The Midwestern husband-wife duo were earnest and likeable. Unfortunately their keyboard pop as well as Jason Hammel's more shouted-than-sung vocals did not translate well into an arena setting.

Powerful performers and openly opinionated, McCrea and Cake lived up to what already promised to be a controversial Spring Concert thanks to an overblown altercation over the ethics of voting earlier this semester. Despite the developed song choices and magnificent musicianship, the frontman refused to abandon his pugnacious politics and the audience would not release their expectation of fluff entertainment on weekend nights - neither party willing to "go the distance" and compromise to make this year's spring concert a truly enjoyable live experience. At least I can console myself with the thought that it would have been way worse if three-hit-wonder Third-Eye Blind had taken the stage.