Sometimes, it seems like it must be a bit of a drag being in Death Cab for Cutie. Oh sure, they're a fairly well-respected act, having worked their way from seemingly never-ending spells in the world's very finest toilet circuits to selling out moderately sized venues in the space of ten slog-hard years, but no matter how sizable the venue, how populous the crowd, it always appears as if no one is particularly familiar with their material. Audiences applaud politely and observe, waiting for the or or two tracks they know from this episode of The OC or that installment of Six Feet Under. Conversely, it is achingly cool to include them on your bucketlist of obscure(ish) influences and consequently, every hipster within a five mile radius gravitates towards the venue of choice, minding their fringes throughout the set and chatting inanely to their oh-so-cool friends, paying more mind to being spotted at the show than to enjoying the music.
Death Cab must tire of this unfortunate affliction, especially when, as this evening, they desire nothing more than to be a four-to-the-floor, ballsy rock and roll band, complete with thrills, spills and appropriate rock star poses. A restless Ben Gibbard is just itching to make the masses move, swaying this, that and every other which way throughout, marching without actually marching, subsumed by the music, trying his very damnedest to get inside it. Thankfully, by some God-given miracle, the good folk of Manchester's Academy 1 - perhaps spurred on by the blistering heat - are less stoic than your average crowd, choosing to actually enjoy themselves rather than state at their feet. Sure, there are the chatterers - particularly annoying during the set's quieter moments - but fortunately, they're outnumbered by those who are sufficiently dedicated to give the show their all.
Indeed, there is a palpable sense of pride in the air this evening. While the band have played larger venues before, there is certainly a 'buzz' surrounding them at the moment, a buzz that sees them featuring prominently in the pages of broadsheet newspapers, on vampire movie soundtracks (although the song in question is notable by its very deliberate absence this evening) and at 65,000+ sell out concerts at ridiculous venues, a la their Foo Fighters support at Milton Keynes Bowl two days prior, a feat that Gibbard self-deprecatingly references mid-set, acknowledging the 'once in a lifetime' experience but confessing that they knew everyone was there to lose themselves to the Foos and that their particular brand of soft, introspective indie rock wasn't really going to cut the mustard. Still, the Death Cab of three or four years ago certainly wouldn't have found their way onto such a bill and now, as the world finally decides to pay a little more attention, it feels like the band may finally acquire the mainstream recognition they so obviously deserve.
Thankfully, they have a mighty fine new album to complement such a progression. The 'Codes and Keys' material wheeled out this evening sounds glorious; from the sashaying and swaying joyfulness of 'Stay Young, Go Dancing' to the majesty of sure-to-be second single 'Underneath the Sycamore', by way of the title track, the funky-as-hell 'You Are A Tourist' and the crescendoalicious 'Doors Unlocked and Open', played with such force it feels like it's about to fall apart, everything has an extra sheen to it, the tracks developing a whole new lease of life outside of the confines of the record. It's a thumping, aggressive, determined 'Some Boys' that's the highlight though, coming hot off the heels of a blissful, crowd-pleasing run through the much more accessible 'Soul Meets Body' and sounding, in spite of its fairly jaunty piano refrain, positively sinister.
The whole set is replete with such moments, Gibbard apparently determined to demonstrate the monstrous rock behemoth at the core of the band. Within the space of the first five songs, they've already assaulted 'The New Year', sending waves of guitar crashing down on our heads, torn through a once-in-a-blue-moon 'Why You'd Want to Live Here' and ran circles around a rip-roaring 'Company Calls', Gibbard roaming the stage, letting his music overtake him. 'Long Division' is similarly restless, shot through with an extra layer of rock theatrics, while 'Photobooth' and a hugely surprising outing for the brilliant 'Styrofoam Plates' feel like they've taken leaves out of the Foo Fighters' playbook, so intensely are they reimagined before our very eyes.
Of course, the quieter moments are equally as passionate: 'Grapevine Fires' is deliciously sensual, a delicate, sobering 'I Will Follow You Into the Dark', played solo by Gibbard mid-set, provides the singalong of the evening, while its seamless transition into the monumental 'I Will Possess Your Heart' actually sends shivers down the spine. Naturally, Death Cab whip out the full eight minute version, the track building and building until it simply cannot build any more, that gorgeous bass riff reverberating around all of our heads. For many, however, it's the one-two suckerpunch of the final songs of the encore that provide the biggest highlight, and justifiably so: 'Marching Bands of Manhattan' remains one of their finest tracks, its beautiful imagery losing none of its evocative power with the additional rock theatrics unleashed upon it, while closer 'Transatlanticism' is quite simply phenomenal, a seven minute poetic odyssey, dripping with beauty, the kind of song that becomes more than just a song. Tonight, it is an experience, Gibbard screaming "come on!" at us all well past the point at which the track is finished, and basking in the glory of the thousand-strong crowd bellowing it back at him, taking his words as their own.
With a set two hours in length, 25 tracks strong, and a crowd consisting largely of fans rather than partisan observers, tonight's Death Cab for Cutie gig is arguably one of a kind, a show characterised by warmth, appreciation and really bloody massive singalongs rather than casual chin-stroking and irritating between and through song chatter. It's an undeniable success and hopefully, a sign of much bigger and better things to come. On nights like this, being in Death Cab for Cutie must be the best damn job in the world.
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