Don't hate me when I say I was never really into Chet Faker — that I got the ticket just because I could.
It's not my fault.
It's just hard for me to swoon over button pressers and crowds that dance only with their knees. But nonetheless, I found myself on Thursday night crammed between the flapping elbows of two pogo sticking alpha-males and their dates at Webster Hall. They were turning in my direction, asking if anyone had any leftover pot. I shook my head no.
And it was about 9:30PM when the lights dimmed to almost complete darkness and a disheveled man approached a microphone hidden between a drum set and row of guitars.
This man, whom everybody but me realized was Nicholas James Murphy, aka Chet Faker
, was perplexingly rubbing his beard and smiling at the audience — quietly surveying the crowd and all the shining faces that leaked sweat from the heat of the overhead lights.
There were no words. No signals and no quick finger points that would hint at the start of the show — first there was silence, and then there wasn't. And as soon as Murphy laid his delicate hands on the table filled with lights and tricks, the crowd erupted.
And boom! Suddenly, I was being thrown from one end of the venue to another, stumbling and trying not to spill my drink on the dude next to me. Of course, that was when his date turned to me as she connected her fingers and did that wave thing with her arms and yelled, "hey, how come you're not dancing?!" I wanted to say something like "because your dude is all up in my business, bitch!", but instead I muttered something along the lines of "huh?" — She smirked, rolled her eyes and turned back towards the stage.
Despite the rocky start that no one but me went through, the rest of the show took a massive turn towards holy-shit-this-is-awesome. Murphy, being blessed with the ability to get a crowd extremely riled up, bounced from left to right and rotated between being a solo act and having a small backup band behind him. However, it wasnt until he belted out a beautiful rendition of Jeff Buckleys "I want someone badly" that I was overcome with excitement and intense jealousy.
Clouds of smoke poured through the crowd — twisting along side the beams of rotating light. The second floor was so packed I wouldnt have been surprised if I'd seen people hanging from the rafters just to get a better view. But thankfully, the venue remained calm for the remainder of the night. Sure there were moments of unbridled energy where passions rose so high that everyone started leaping in the air to Murphy's most notable track, the viral cover of Blackstreet's, "No Diggity", but other than the performance itself, and the seductive sound of Murphy's voice, the music wasn't life changing.
That said, am I going to go home, coop myself up into my room and play the records front to back until I'm familiar with every note? No. Will I reduce my cars stereo system to a broken hum with "drop the game" or "This song is not about a girl"? Probably not. Have I found a new sense of adoration for all the button pressing and the too-loud-to-handle-when-you're-next-to-the-speakers bass buzz? Meh, maybe. But if one thing's for sure, the next time Chet Faker comes to New York City, you can bet i'll be there.
Check out the photos below: