Cage the Elephant and Beck head up a school-night end-of-summer party at PNC
Beck has always been a consummate showman, balancing his eclectic-yet-consistent recorded output — whether via his acoustic singer-songwriter albums or the dance, electronic, hip-hop, pop and rock mashup that he built his career on in the ’90s — with fun live shows. He surrounds himself with great players and bright, flashing visuals, while cutting Michael Jackson-inspired dance moves in his skinny suits and packing his sets with mostly familiar hits and fan favorites.
That was all true Sunday night, as “The Night Running” co-headlining tour with Cage the Elephant (named for the Cage song Beck co-wrote) landed at PNC Music Pavilion.
But despite all of Beck’s proven strengths, following Bowling Green, Ky.’s Cage the Elephant is like mounting a Clydesdale on methamphetamine. It doesn’t really matter who took said uppers in this theoretical scenario, only that it’s a potentially thankless task and — along with the impending Monday-morning/first-day-of-school obligations for many parents — it explains why so many concertgoers were heading for the exits midway through Beck’s set.
Based on texts I got, social-media posts I saw, and conversations with other fans at the show, the consensus is that Cage’s Matt Shultz is simply a born frontman who never fails to captivate the audience through both his wacky, unpredictable stage antics and his emotional and sincere performance.
From the opening of “Broken Boy” (from Cage’s new album “Social Cues”), Shultz came dressed to shed, wearing four or five layers from top to bottom. There was no running off stage to change costumes; he’d simply remove a layer and suddenly have a different photo opp. But donning new pieces of clothing — from a ruffly, sheer women’s blouse to nude leggings under yellow track pants under pinstriped slacks, like a seemingly endless line of Russian nesting dolls — was only the tip of Shultz’s madness.
His slinky dancing and all-over-the-place movements recalled a looser Gene Kelly in “Singing in the Rain,” “Purple Rain”-era Prince, and Jim Morrison, if those stars were well-versed in parkour and yoga. As if he’d read my mind, while I typed the word “yoga,” Shultz pretzeled himself like a contortionist into a twisted shoulder stand midway through “Skin and Bones,” another track from “Social Cues.”
The set touched many of the bases from the band’s catalog, with newer songs like the heart-wrenching “Ready to Let Go” (about Shultz’s divorce) and “House of Glass” (about his state of mind during the fallout) fitting perfectly alongside old ragers like “Spiderhead” and “Ain’t No Rest for the Wicked” (waving its Beck influence proudly).
“He’s like Mick Daltrey,” my husband said, comparing Shultz to two legendary rock frontmen, “but a total mess in a lovable way, without the ego of those guys. He seems like a rock star, but one of us at the same time.”
About halfway through the show, I wondered if Cage could actually pull it off again, having seen it out-perform much bigger bands at Coachella and Bonnaroo and on tour with live giants like Muse. I needn’t have wondered. By the final run of songs (“Come a Little Closer,” “Shake Me Down” and “Cigarette Daydreams”), the trough of flames lining the two-tiered stage where the other band members played their less-animated but essential support roles burst into towers of pyro.
Shultz — who had stripped down to knee pads, nude tights, red socks, sandals and red athletic tape on his chest and arms — haphazardly picked up the pile of clothing he’d collected at the front of the stage as he sang, then dropped it again a few feet away.
He sprinted to the back for another quick change as the band kicked into its finale of “Teeth.” Having already run into the crowd twice under the amphitheater shed, Shultz headed for the lawn as the fast, punky song neared its end, and oddly enough, that’s where he stayed for a good five minutes. The band left the stage and its crew began the changeover as Queen’s “We Are the Champions” blasted from the stage before Shultz finally returned from greeting fans on the green.
Fans contemplated how anyone — even Beck — would follow such a show. Beck answered that question by strumming a few blues licks before rocketing into his first and biggest mainstream hit, “Loser,” to open the show. A high-pitched cry of pure surprise and drunken joy emanated from a man behind, likely flashing back to his early-’90s college-fraternity days. Beck kept the momentum going with the if-you-aren’t-dancing-you’re-dead disco throwback “Up All Night” from 2017’s “Colors” album, followed by longtime favorites “Girl” and “Que Onda Guero” as neon images of noodles and geometric shapes shifted on screens behind him.
His band members were situated atop separate risers, which left a dancefloor-like center for Beck to rally the crowd and dance to crowd-pleasers like “Dreams” and “Devil’s Haircut.” He didn’t delve too deeply into his award-winning singer-songwriter fare, keeping those moments to the always-stunning ‘Lost Cause” and the psych-folk of “The Heart is a Drum,” before diving back into the party with “New Pollution” and “E-Pro.”
Many fans that left early may wish they’d stuck around for the encore, though, as opening act Spoon’s frontman Britt Daniel joined Beck’s band for Elvis Costello’s “Pump It Up,” while Shultz returned for the tour’s title song — Cage’s “Night Running.”
Face-to-face, Beck and Shultz stood so close as they sang, reminding me of Mick Jagger and David Bowie singing in each other’s faces in the “Dancing in the Streets” video. And we definitely know who is who in that scenario.
As the band circled back around to “Where It’s At,” the frontwoman of the other opening act — Sunflower Bean’s Julia Cumming — joined in, solidifying the festival vibe Shultz has mentioned in interviews.
It didn’t really matter at that point who put on the best show, as the sense of camaraderie swept over the crowd. At 49, maybe Beck doesn’t have to be the show. He can relax a little and share the experience of putting together a really great bill, which benefits us all.