Spoon
Stubb’s, June 25
It’s homecoming night, and everyone’s aglow. Even Britt Daniel, who, with his trademarked bed head, is typically a vision of cool. As he leads his crew onstage to the din of the largest nonfestival local audience the band’s faced, the lanky one’s all grins. This, the last night of a 22-date tour, is a trophy for Spoon. The local fourpiece has been through the music encyclopedia of trials and tribulations over the last decade, but with the release of Gimme Fiction, they’ve finally reached a celebrated indie peak. When the applause finally subsides, Daniel strums out the first, raw chords to Fiction opener “The Beast and Dragon, Adored,” a watermark of Spoon’s newfound confidence. The sold-out crowd hollers with pride, as if everyone’s best friend just scored his first touchdown. The ensuing, 90-minute set is all sweet nostalgia, from 1998’s A Series of Sneaks (“Car Radio,” “Metal Detektor”) to 2001 breakthrough Girls Can Tell (“Me and the Bean,” “Fitted Shirt”) and 2002’s bountiful Kill the Moonlight (“Paper Tiger,” “Someone Something”). Newbies hold just as much clout: “I Turn My Camera On” is met with an explosive scream, and “My Mathematical Mind” becomes a force of nature. With every thump of Joshua Zarbo’s double bass cabinets, another pretty girl swoons. Hardly a word is spoken from the stage aside from a simple thank you, songs sweeping beneath a delighted smile from Daniel’s mother. Jim Eno grins mischievously behind his drum kit as the band rips into encore closer “Small Stakes,” a victory lap and career landmark. Truth is, Spoon’s no longer a small stakes act.
This article appears in July 1 • 2005.