Concert Review | Foxygen at Local 506 in Chapel Hill. NC

Well folks, religion failed me once again. See, I was handed this story from some divine being, which I quickly transcribed and posted to this very blog, recounting the fated evening when Jesus peer-pressured Bob Dylan and Mick Jagger into imbibing irresponsibly, having sex, thus producing offspring that would one day form Foxygen. Much like most stories that are passed down via a glorified version of the telephone game, some of the all-important details were either intentionally changed, or accidently inserted, leaving the devout faithful disappointed when they experience the literal truth.

For Foxygen, maybe the details were correct – but the hype and pressure of living up to such a legendary paternal partnership was something that was inevitably going to cause a mess. And for lack of a better word, that’s exactly what a sold-out crowd was treated to Sunday night at Local 506 — a hot, and disappointing mess.

From the moment they walked out to the sound of the always-pleasing screech of deafening mic feedback, things were simply not good. Singer Sam France seemed completely out of it. And while his erratic movement could be entertaining to watch, his half-singing, half-mumbling delivery made any action seem like a half-assed effort fueled either by a complete lack of care for those of us who came out, or one of those drugs that annoy the shit out of anyone not on the same thing. Even the songs that are teed-up to shine live, like “No Destruction,” came off like an early practice-stab. “San Francisco” was a basically a Monty Python skit, but not in a good way.

I could keep going, but really, why? Nothing changed as time stumbled on. Robes were donned, sunglasses were taken off and put back on. Mic stands fell, words were slurred or ignored completely, pointless banter was shouted. Swagger was attempted and failed miserably.

The big takeaway for me, as a person who sees his fair share of shows by buzzy-young bands who are just as green, is that truly disappointing shows happen few and far between. I’m an easy guy to please, especially when it’s a band that has recently released an album as great as We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace & Magic.

But that infrequency actually makes it worse somehow — because I’m not some jaded blogger who is impossible to please. After spending weeks hyping up this show to friends, I unfortunately left apologizing for the shitty recommendation.

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