It was that kind of night–you and your partner were both kind of sick and aching, both tired, both not looking forward to starting the week tired. Did we really want to go to this show? I mean, we bought tickets months ago but still…?
Getting into the venue a few minutes before Typhoon went on, we slipped into the audience behind the two post-college dudes on a man-date and next to the extremely differently heighted couple on perhaps their third date. The band came on the stage in all their glory: two drummers, two violins, one flugelhorn, two trumpets (one doubling on keyboards and guitar), one bass, one guitar, one ukulele/ glockenspiel, and Kyle, the lead singer on guitar and Wurlitzer electric piano.
The crowd–though it was a Sunday night–was packed in and excited. The band and the audience fed off each other immediately and it quickly became an atmosphere of astounded magic. The band played excitedly, skillfully, beautifully and the crowd collectively felt like it was witnessing something wonderful and unique. The dozen instruments and as many voices blended into a wave coming off of the stage, paradoxically more together and more individual than on the records.
After each song there was an increasing amount of applause to the point where, with a few songs left, the audience was cheering like it was demanding an encore. Kyle had to say something like “Thanks so much! We still have more songs.”
The end of the set came too soon and there was thunderous applause calling for an encore this time, which the band obliged. Three more delicate, lively, wonderful, and raucous songs later and the band was done and people were streaming back the merch table and out into the cool autumn day. My feet felt like they were hardly touching the pavement.