Pains of Being Pure at Heart w/ Zaza, Tin Armor - The Summit

On the stage of the Summit Friday night, all the non-drumming members of The Pains of Being Pure at Heart stood at the edge of the stage, leaning over with their instruments, looking as if they were ready to jump into the crowd. If they weren’t all so mild-mannered.

That combination of rock ’n’ roll ebullience and reserved timidity has served the Brooklyn band well. There are the big, fuzzy guitars that make comparisons to shoegaze forebear My Bloody Valentine too easy, but then there are the twee melodies led by singer Kip Berman’s unaffected vocals, which bring to mind the indie pop of Belle & Sebastian.

There are other bands we could start adding to the recommended-if-you-like list (some people swear all they hear is the Smiths), and each name on the list would simply magnify that sense of nostalgia you get when listening to the Pains of Being Pure at Heart’s self-titled debut.

But the reason this band has garnered so much hype and press this year—well beyond the realm of fawning bloggers—is that: a.) Nostalgia is fun when it’s done in a way that avoids mimicry, and b.) Pains combine noise and pop better and more accessibly, in my opinion, than other bands who have recently attempted to revive the merging of those two seemingly disparate qualities. (I’m looking in your direction, Vivian Girls.)

There’s not too much that can be said about the Pains of Being Pure at Heart on record that can’t be said about the band live. If the mix is good enough, which it was at the Summit after a couple of songs, it’s pretty much like hearing the album. Berman sang his parts with a blank, doe-eyed stare to complement his easy, unassuming voice, and the rest of the musicians played their parts well—all with a kind of dorky-but-endearing vibe. It wasn’t mind-blowing, but it was a good representation of the band and made for a fun set.

On the other hand, Zaza, which was also on the bill, greatly disappointed. I had downloaded the band’s free EP from its website and liked what I heard—ethereal vocals, droney grooves and cool atmospherics. But live, the Brooklyn trio seemed to take itself way too seriously. It was pretty boring. To make things worse, the band insisted on using two high-beam lights as its only means of lighting, and one of those lights bounced off the Summit’s mirrored wall into the crowd, blinding a good portion of the audience. Donewaiting Duffy eventually got all MacGyver on the situation and blocked the reflection with some boxes, but even without Zaza’s stage props burning my retina, it was still boring.

Local opener Tin Armor has had some good slots recently, opening for Matt & Kim at Skully’s a few weeks ago. The band has earned those slots, too, because each time I see these guys, I like them more. There’s some punk fervor in there, plenty of pop sensibility and two equally strong singer/songwriter/guitarists to boot. Fans of Ted Leo, take note, and keep your eye on these young locals.