For 40 short minutes, the Chicago natives charmed a crowd of dusty, sweaty Angelenos with gleaming pop numbers that recalled ’70s glam rock and Beach Boys-style melodies. Onstage, frontman and vocalist Cullen Omori seemed totally self-assured as the object of attention for thousands of eyes. When he paused after the band opened with “Imagine, Pt. 3″ to say ““ as an aside ““ “Oh baby, oh baby,” a chorus of girls, as if on cue, screamed. The effect must have been similar to the kind Elvis may have once had on the poodle-skirted ladies he got all shook up.
Somewhere between its self-titled debut and second album, “Dye It Blonde,” Smith Westerns shed its lo-fi, slightly rambling skin for a more tightly melodic, hi-fi sound that equally features the members’ vocal talents and buoyant guitars. Unsurprisingly, Smith Westerns played the latter album almost in its entirety, though it did throw in two songs from the first album.
The result was a rich sonic experience textured with indulgently raw guitar solos, swoon-worthy harmonies and jangly pop moments mixed with more reflective ones. One can easily imagine the band playing in a lonely ’50s diner after closing, a soundtrack to all the boys and girls outside holding hands, falling in love and defying their own mortality.
The only slight disappointment was “All Die Young,” which is probably the band’s best song. Wistful and full of trying-to-be-brave heartbreak, (“I was backstage crying getting ready to play this one,” Omori said, without a trace of irony) the song’s lyrics become sadder when juxtaposed with cheerful delivery (“All die young, when love is lovely and when you are young” is sung with bubblegum pop gusto). But the song’s true thrust comes from the way Omori’s voice is carried perfectly aloft by crying guitars.
When played live, however, something was a little off. From the opening notes until the first chorus, SW played more slowly and deliberately. Omori’s voice, yearning to reach the higher notes, often became stuck or cracked, as though he were out of breath or dizzied by the song’s melancholy. The guitars often obscured Omori’s breathy vocals, which threw off the song’s delicate dynamic.
Still, the band’s charisma was undeniable. Crowd members, even those who had never heard the band before that day, danced or swayed with eyes closed. Some moshed alone. Guitars slipped from shimmering to wailing. Omori fought against breathlessness to sing about being young and feeling the weight of desire and fear all wrapped into what was ultimately a glorious package. The question Omori asked in the closing song “Dye the World” might well have been the question floating in the audience’s mind: “Are you a dream / Or something in between? / Is this just fantasy? / Or am I just lucky?”
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