Numbers played an integral part at last Monday’s Ratatat concert at the Henry Fonda theatre. One sole orange foam finger sporting the Ratatat insignia was used to full effect by Despot, a Queens-based rapper, who was able to get the restless opening droves of Ratatat fans on his side via his grimy break-neck beats. Built on a wall of sound, as extended intros and outros flooded out the high-end décor of the venue, which only then circulated through the ear drums of everyone, was Norway’s own 120 Days, who burst with their blend of Krautrock and new wave synth stylings. The perfect-to-a-T electronic reverb and drum loops matched well with the flawlessly cropped haircuts each of the four members sported. By the time Evan Mast and Mike Stroud, the duo behind Ratatat, made their way on center stage, full capacity had been breeched (1200 to be precise: the largest number of the night) all in attendance ready for the hip-hop blaze beats to commence.
Out the gate, the two debut a new song featuring African rhythms, only furthering their maturation process as a band previously recognized as a group best known for making beats nostalgic to videogame aficionados. And it’s not just Nintendo Classic lovers that were able to embark on the electronic journey Stroud and Mast unfurled, but also the dance routine-induced teenagers, college students and the oh so obvious elder fan. That’s only one part of the beauty of a Ratatat show. While the crowd is diverse, there are aspects of their show that will never change. The show will always be a display of the N.Y. duo’s Classics. Guitarist Mike Stroud will never cut his hair. And more importantly, he will shred on his guitar until he can no longer do so anymore. Besides being of the more gifted guitarists in rock today, the man is undoubtedly a showman, doing windmills and backbends, even going as grand as Prince —a la the 2007 Superbowl halftime show—as a silhouetted Stroud literally became a 20-foot high guitar god rocking out to his ridiculously dancing masses. The flair for the dramatic Stroud effortlessly shows even rubbed off onto Mast himself, who normally is immovable, keeping the ship afloat with his driving bass lines. But later as the night progressed and Stroud furiously played, Mast was right there with him, on his knees, his bass pointed to the air in rock glory.
It truly is a spectacle of a show boasted by the splendor of their mega hits. Even though signature staple “Seventeen Years” has lost somewhat of its headphone muster, live it’s a different beast as every Stroud solo grinds, wah-wahing its way to the hearts of all those who popped and locked. “El Pico” however is/still was/always will be the cats pajamas as loud and soft respites clash amongst a wave of bass and the high wire act of guitar frenzy. And as the two continued to power through more of their Classics, like “Wildcat,” even as most of their fans themselves left after the growling heater, those who did stay were treated to an epic finale. As the smoke machine engulfed Ratatat amidst the warmth of “Gettysburg,” the band had proven that they had won the good fight.
