Japandroids, Blind Pig, Ann Arbor, Michigan

are nice guys. Maybe sweet isn’t the right word, but nice sinks right into place. They are understated and calm. They chat with any and every fan that stops by ignoring their famed statuses, their rock auras. Japandroids act pleasant. They’re chill like swimming pools in the thick of sticky summer.

During their act, however, they are violent, vibrant, visionary. Brian King’s fretboard is covered with orange neon stickers. The instrument itself is beat up, wood scratches show through the white. The man moves, hustles across stage, throwing his neck and shoulders around. Head banging deliriously. The crowd follows him unerringly, punching their fists, belting the ballads.

David Prowse keeps the show exciting as well. He sits along the side of the stage looking over King’s chaos. When both of the Japandroids sing they are in unison. Prowse’s veins push out of his forehead and neck, giving the impression of excitement, of a musician invested in his band, his music, his style. These fellows share an appreciation for one another in a brotherly way, which propels the punch of the music, the likelihood of crowd self destruction.

King stops frequently after songs to banter with the crowd, explaining to the crowd that they are only playing this on Ann Arbor show with Bear in Heaven, or that, contrary to popular belief, the first song (which was sludgy punk fare) was only the warm-up.

In ‘Rockers’, their third song, the crowd ambles anxiously to form a pit. It is a warming moment, twenty somethings feel their way around the middle of the crowd, testing boundaries, the limits of the sonic blast, seeing whether or not it would be appropriate to break things. The song exemplifies Prowse’s ability to restrain a beat and then flash out like a burst from a pistol; it reveals his pension for slow then fast, anthemic sing a long then hefty head banger.

Japandroids are strongest when the crowd is with them, and fortunately, that is the entire time. One can see King and Prowse get stronger as the set progresses, cymbals break wildly, guitar lines rush more aggressively, as the crowd slowly unwinds, gets wackier and more lackadaisical. Japandroids make the casual and diehard alike see that simple music is cathartic music; that when you need a catchy, noise drenched kiss of sound, there is no need to look further than a rough, yet likeable two-piece, Japandroids