There's more than a whiff of early R.E.M. surrounding the Shins these days. Like Stipe and Co., the Portland-by-way-of-Albuquerque quartet possess an unerring knack for cherry-picking the best bits from the past few decades of pop rock (Beach Boys, Raspberries, etc.) to create intricate songs that seem evocative rather than studied. And singer/songwriter James Mercer's crypto-poetic odes are vague enough to carry meaning without explaining the emotions they hint at.
Of course, R.E.M. also backed up their evanescent records with a 200-show-a-year bar-band live aesthetic. Unburdened by the road-hog gene, the Shins simply transport their bedroom blasts to the stage. During this benefit show for a local youth-oriented public-service organization, the Shins' indie nerdiness was in full bloom. Rumpled keyboardist Marty Crandall hopped around like an honor student on the Red Bull/Pixy Stix meal plan, and drummer Jesse Sandoval rocked what appeared to be an entirely unironic mustache. The boys studiously reproduced most of their two albums--Oh, Inverted World and Chutes Too Narrow--and threw in a cover of "Destroy the Heart" by 120 Minutes dream-poppers the House of Love. Though he's on the wrong side of 30, Mercer's angelic falsetto lent upbeat numbers like "Kissing the Lipless" and "Know Your Onion!" an after-school pep-rally glow--assuming Rivers Cuomo, Brian Wilson, and Robert Pollard are on the faculty. Few groups can claim anthems with such a weird, giddy-geek aura.
Their ballads, on the other hand, failed to swell to the back of the club, coming off more like sketches than full-blooded songs, particularly when presented to a crowd hungry for shouty, happy stompers like "Pressed in a Book." They may be tender and all, but the Shins' slow ones could use a little van-tested muscle. Mercer has proved he can write his "It's the End of the World as We Know It." Now all he needs is a "Nightswimming" and the Shins could be unstoppable.
