Review: Ratatat at MAO Livehouse

Ratatat's Mike Stroud does magic with a distortion pedal

It’s feels a little beside the point to write about the Ratatat show, because you were probably there. Everyone else in the city was.

I don’t mean that in an “everybody who’s any anybody was at THIS show” kind of way, but more that there seemed to be, by my rough estimate, about 17 million people inside of MAO Livehouse last night.

Enough sweat to irrigate a small farm

The show was beyond oversold. It was H1N1’s wet dream. Before Ratatat even came on, the audience has transformed into a swamp of sweat and wet skin, with people dousing themselves with water bottles and crowding around 3 dinky little fans in a futile attempt to retain a medically safe body temperature.

Evan Mast connects with the crowd

Meanwhile, Ratatat did what they do best. They rocked. It was an intimidating scene; to have that many bodies moving as one, with their undivided attention devoted to two humans who would not utter a single word for the entire show.

Composed of guitarist Mike Stroud and bass player/synth driver/producer Evan Mast, the New York City duo’s heart pounding beats and distorted guitar riffs shook the room, with tweaked out video footage of multiplying bird heads and a huge silhouette of Stroud headbanging against hues of acid reds and yellows in the background.

To their credit, the crowd exhibited none of the animal instinct and bad touch that often accompanies being packed like rats. Throughout the night, the vibe stayed positive and excited, with people crowd surfing over the sea of bodies and stripping off soaking wet t-shirts to put up with the heat.

After their set, we demanded an encore. They had not yet played Seventeen Years, and no one was leaving. But we got nothing, and I can’t really blame Ratatat for that- it was simply too hot to play any more, and I congratulate them on making it through their set as it was.

Note to MAO: invest in some A/C. Maybe I'm just getting too old to enjoy the punk communion of sharing sweat, but be that as it may, its all fun and games until somebody dies of heat stroke.

The crowd cleared out fast in search of fresh air