The Klaxons roll into the Varsity running on fumes

Categories: Concert Review

Klaxons / The Varsity Theater / July 16, 2007
Text by Amber Schadewald | Photos by Daniel Corrigan


Better Than: The meat snack selection at a Wisconsin gas station.

Fresh from the Pitchfork Music Festival in Chicago, The Klaxons dragged themselves across the Midwest for one last show before heading home. Still wearing their festival wrist-bands and probably the same underwear, these kids looked tired even before the first song ended. Their faces hosted expressions similar to those found on hung-over teenagers after being roused for Sunday morning church.


The Varsity Theater was a boiling one-thousand degrees and the fog on stage could have easily been mistaken for steam. Fearing heat exhaustion, the crowd seemed hesitant to jump around, but by mid-set, arms and feet were flailing and heads were banging. Some obnoxious macho men yelled out obscenities, along with the phrases, "that was better than sex," "let's get it started," and even a request for "Like a Virgin."


On stage, the guys were wearing skin-tight, black jeans and funky kicks, along with vintage shirts drenched in hot. Being that The Klaxons have been tagged for their fashion sense, it was surprising to see its lack in the crowd; instead there was an abundance of white polos and flannel shirts, mostly just your regular looking folks.


Once the show had hit full stride, shirts began disappearing and a rain gauge probably could've caught a fair puddle of sweat on the floor. The Klaxons's music may be new rave, meaning dancing is a must, glow-sticks are not. Front and center, some assertive ladies pressured/threatened the guy in front of them to dance harder—or else.


The Klaxons' music is easy to hoot along with and crazy fun by nature, so it was concerning to see the men creating the sound look so lack-luster. The guitarist seemed to be sleep-playing his parts, dazing off into the lights without blinking. The crowd didn't seem to notice and by the end, some gutsy fans rushed the stage, followed by another 25 or so. The band kept on and even allowed the dancing fools to sing into the mics. Unfortunately the expanded population on stage threw out the chance for an encore and then night ended with an announcement from the Varistity about closing tabs and somebody's lost ID.


Personal Bias: I was wearing the same Pitchfork wristband as the lead guitarist and felt way too cool about it.

Random Detail: The lead guitarist was also wearing red socks.

By the way: The band is a fan of Lincoln, Nebraska, and Long Island ice teas.

Text by Amber Schadewald | Photos by Daniel Corrigan

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