Between the Buried and Me (Live)

I had the "pleasure" of traveling through some of the endless flatness that is eastern Iowa on Saturday in pursuit of Iowa City, Iowa, the home-for-the-night to Between the Buried and Me and their few tour mates. It took more than three hours to get there, and almost as many to get home (we managed to make all the right turns on the way back), but the band's hour-long set was more than rewarding enough to merit the trip.

In a venue with a maximum occupancy of 261, Animosity sounded tight to a fairly restrained response and HORSE The Band managed to rile up the crowd with their cocky, juvenile humor and renditions of "Birdo," "Bunnies," "Lord Gold Throneroom" and, of course, crowd-favorite "Cutsman." They were funny and super energetic, so, despite not being a huge fan, I couldn't complain. But it's hard for me to even think much about those sets after witnessing Between the Buried and Me pull off the entirety of Colors live.

I've heard people complain that Between the Buried and Me is a boring live band because the members "just stand there." Not only is that statement either not true or not consistently true (based on my experience), the band's music requires focus and concentration, especially considering they make a conscious attempt to play their songs perfectly. I couldn't care less that the band doesn't swing their guitars or do other cheap rock-star tricks -- not when they sound so tight and when singer Tommy Rogers' eyes are bulging and veins are popping with each excited scream.

From the soft piano strokes and soft singing that opened the band's set to the chilling solos that closed it, Between the Buried and Me brought an entirely new dimension to Colors. I love the record, but I can safely say I love it way, way more when it's live. While I wasn't initially sure about the idea and would've liked to have heard "Mordecai" or "All Bodies" (the band couldn't play an old-song encore because there was a curfew), it fucking worked. And not just for me. The sweaty-as-hell crowd pumped their fists to the punchy metal, sang along to the melodic singing, danced to the hoedown (seriously awesome), nodded to the tribal rhythms and, when all was said and done, chanted for more. There was no bullshit; the band played their record from the barely-raised stage with only minimal talking, and it kind of revived my interest in going to shows. Even though I was probably seven years older than most of the attendees.

I don't know what else to say. If you get the chance to catch Between the Buried and Me, particularly in a small venue, before the Colors tour is over, passing it up would be a serious misfortune. Killer performance of a killer record.