The Walkmen - The Basement, 9-15

The Walkmen have always fascinated me. Yeah, I like their music, but it’s more that I’m inordinately drawn to a voice that just doesn’t match its supplier, and Hamilton Leithauser fits that bill.

I mean, just look at that name. Doesn’t it sound like a signature of sweater-clad privilege? Usually, Leithauser’s appearance furthers the case: nicely coifed blond hair, bright blue eyes and clean, nice-fitting clothes. On Monday night at the Basement he even made a black leather jacket look upper-crust preppy instead of bad-boy, sort of like Ralph Macchio’s nemesis in The Karate Kid.

For all I know, Leithauser was wasted Monday night, but he sure looked stone-cold sober and serious, which made the wild, drunken squall that emerged all the more shocking, even when you know what’s coming. Wrenching those notes out looked and sounded like a painful exercise, as if Leithauser were giving birth to the songs sans epidural, lobster-faced and sweating.

That voice is the defining characteristic of the Walkmen, and it was front and center at this show, as it is on the Walkmen’s recent album, You & Me. The band opened the show with that album’s “New Country,” a great song with only vocals and echoey guitar. Even when the other instruments kicked in for the rest of the night, it was a no-frills setup. There’s no wall of sound here, just each instrument playing its role in the whole while also remaining distinguishable. (Credit that to the sound guy, too.)

The band played a lot of new stuff, which was fine by me. “Canadian Girl” had a nice, very un-Canadian island vibe, and the horns on the ballad “Red Moon” were an essential, forlorn counterpoint to the keys and guitar; I never thought of the Walkmen evoking Calexico, but they did on that tune.

Some of the slower numbers began to drag a bit as the night went on, but the inclusion of “The Rat” gave the crowd a new burst of energy with its post-punk beat and insistent guitars propelling Leithauser’s scratchy howl. The song was also a reminder that the Walkmen can explore all sorts of styles, from post-punk to lazy island songs, yet still sound unmistakably like the Walkmen. Credit Leithauser again.

The band wasn’t consistently engaging all night, but I blame the venue more than the band. The Walkmen’s popularity, combined with music fans itching to get out of dark, electricity-deficient houses and apartments, made for a packed house, and that sucks at the Basement.

I remember that the first few times I went to at the Basement, I thought it was a great venue. Then I went to concerts that were better-attended, and the Basement’s absurdly awful sight lines obscured everything. Support joists obstruct views for all but about 50 people. And watching the band on the TV screens behind the bar is just a continual reminder of what you’re missing just a few yards away. This venue needs an extensive renovation to make big shows worth the price of admission for more than the people up front.

I don’t think I’d buy an album from Monday night’s opener, Golem, but the band sure was entertaining to watch (which I actually could, since there weren’t as many people there yet). The Brooklyn group played klezmer, a type of music that’s often played at Jewish weddings and other occasions where dancing is involved.

The musicians were all immensely talented—brass, violin, drums, upright bass and accordion—and the songs were all in Yiddish, but the band often provided quick summaries. Even without the synopses, it was quite apparent what was going on, especially when Aaron Diskin took lead vocals. The mustachioed Diskin, decked out in a ruffled pink shirt, acted out the emotions in caricature form, theatrically gesturing, laughing and crying when the song called for it.

Though not quite as gypsy or punk as Eugene Hutz’s merry band, fans of Gogol Bordello should take note. As should anyone looking for some good bar mitzvah music.