Darkside @ Royale 3/17
Photo credits: Brianna Benitez
Review by Miguel Gonzales
An overwhelming assortment of cars line up trying to get by on Tremont Street, swerving and turning around through the hazed-filled skies during rush hour. The air was a bit damp after a small rain shower in the afternoon, and the temperature noticeably dropped. Once I got past Stuart Street and made my way to Royale, the fog cleared up and revealed a small line of people patiently waiting to see Darkside on a Monday evening.
The formation of Darkside began in Providence, Rhode Island, not too far from Boston, Mass. Originally a duo consisting of electronic music, Nicolás Jaar and multi-instrumentalist Dave Harrington, both of whom met at Brown University, formed the duo as Harrington became a frequent collaborator during Jaar’s beginnings as an electronic producer. Their debut EP as Darkside, released in 2011, was met with positive reception, excelling the duo’s dynamic fusion of electronic music and rock-and-roll. Thereafter, the duo released a stellar debut via Matador Records in 2013, “Psychic,” which was a lightning-in-a-bottle moment for both Harrington and Jaar.
Since then, they’ve released their 2021 follow-up, “Spiral,” and a live album called “Live at Spiral House” in 2023. Darkside is now a trio, adding to their lineup drummer and percussionist Tlacael Esparza in 2022 and releasing their first album as a trio, “Nothing,” this year via Matador Records. Embarking on their first full tour of North America in 11 years, Darkside’s return and expansion as a trio has never felt so urgent and much needed.
Opening for Darkside around 8 p.m. was Brooklyn-based trombonist and composer Kalia Vandever, who is always a pleasure to see live. Having seen her open for Arooj Aftab, it’s great to get the chance to see Vandever open for Darkside – her ambient-layered compositions, silky vocals and trombone playing dazzled the audience and left them silent, letting the sounds soar through the room. Vandever played “Recollections from Shore” and “Hubbard Road,” which are some of my favorite pieces from her. I’m really sad she didn’t get much stage time (her set was delayed four minutes from a sound error), as I enjoy hearing her talk about what inspires her to create these pieces. Either way, you should see Kalia Vandever when you get the chance — she is truly an enchanting performer.
As Jaar, Harrington and Esparza walk on-stage around 9 p.m., the lights dim to pure darkness and begin to slowly fade in with a looming red as the trio quietly set up their equipment. Darkside starts their set with “Hell suite, Pt. I,” a slow psychedelic-waltz. Jaar enunciates the beginning line softly “We’re living in hell,” in an eerily calm motion. Jaar sits beside his arrangement of keyboards and synthesizers, intensively staring at the audience looking from his left to right, occasionally raising his voice. Esparza’s minimal percussion is impactful – the shuttering hi-hats, occasional ride and snare hits emphasize the waltz while Harrington’s effect-heavy guitar tones and Jaar’s bloated bass carry the weight. It’s texturally rich, and moves ominously where you can’t help but be on your feet.
They don’t lose their touch on the swift, warbling atmosphere for their two hour set. They keep things steady and intoxicatingly weary playing new songs from “Nothing,” along with pulsating hitters from their catalogue and long-winded improvisational sections that are just as enticing. Harrington is tangled around large amps and a complicated arrangement of pedalboards – riffing, shredding and playing these beautiful blues guitar solos entangled within dubby, psychedelic and ambient overtones. It’s especially clear in Harrington’s performance on “Liberty Bell” and “A1,” his Gibson guitar either twanging tastefully or is fed through a chopped-up looper matching the song rhythmically.
Esparza’s percussive control is impressive too – he especially knows when to play out and sustain himself in particular moments. On “SLAU,” Esparza’s hi-hat taps and occasional cymbal hits ring dainty in the air, meanwhile Esparza noticeably hits the floor tom and snare with a bit more force – not so much that it overpowers the already bumbling bass and Jaar’s vocals. With the improvisational interludes the band includes in their setlist when transitioning into other songs, Esparza lets loose. The cymbals shimmer, the snare and toms gradually crescendo and the hi-hats spatter.
This leaves Nicolàs Jaar, who is the unofficial ringleader of the band whose electronic touch melodically and texturally amplifies their already funky, hallucinogenic sound. Jaar in most of the set looks focused, attentively scrolling through his Macbook Air gearing up for each song – all of them are locked in, really. Jaar sits beneath a black microphone, either singing with a high-pitched effect in certain songs which allow him to soar, or sings in his regular low baritone tone where it’s purposefully flat and dramatic. His vocals can get unsettling and can peacefully drift, and Jaar’s electronic synthesizers warrant cosmical moments showing how versatile Jaar really is.
The crowd claps after they leave the stage around 10:15 p.m., to which the band finishes off their set with a surprise encore. They end the night off with their galloping, distorted “Graucha Max” and 10-minute epic “Golden Arrow,” before sending the night away. Before jumping into “Metatron” prior to their encore, Jaar acknowledges the audience by thanking them for being here, that he and the band are grateful that they’re still able to make music. Jaar goes on to acknowledge the anxious uncertainty and trouble our country is heading toward.
An audience member shouts in the crowd, “Free Palestine.” Jaar retorts a few seconds later, “Of course, it’s Free Palestine! It’s always been Free Palestine.”
While the audience and band simultaneously bob their heads together to some good music, smooth jams and psychedelia goodness – it’s good to know everyone in the room feels rightfully anxious and worried about the state of the world. The one thing we have in common is we still have some hope all contained within the dancefloor – where we bob our heads, shake our arms around and move our legs together.