A/Live Show: Deerhunter @ Webster Hall 9/19

The first thing I found myself thinking as I walked into the cramped confines on Webster Hall was: where the fuck did all of these people come from?

It was by far the most diverse crowd I had ever seen there: art school kids chatting with Wall Street suits, cool NPR dads standing next to dreadlocked teens smoking pot and plenty of giddy teenagers and senior citizens. With a band as eclectic and unique as Atlanta's Deerhunter, this should have come as no surprise, yet I found myself fascinated with this motley crew of weird vibes. Once the lights went down, the crowd lit up as one by one the members of the band stepped onto the stage until the messianic figure of frontman Bradford Cox, decked out in a floral dress and black wig, loomed onto the stage.

 From the first three songs, it was apparent that the band was ready to span their relatively slim back catalog and play more than just new material; starting off with Octet (from their sophomore album Cryptograms); Neon Junkyard (from their latest Monomania) and radio friendly hit Don't Cry from the critically adored Halcyon Digest.  The set progressed in this fashion throughout, playing older fan favorites complimented with their impressive newer releases.

In the middle of the set, Bradford stopped a minute to express his sincere gratitude to New York fans and his love for the city, calling it their second home.  He too commented on the diversity in the crowd, inspiring a young man to throw his driver license up onto the stage.  Cox, infamously known to be quite the indie rock diva, found it hilarious, reading the name of the man from New Jersey and commenting on how terrifying the photo was.

It is such a simple moment like this that so aptly displays the relationship Deerhunter feels with their fans.  Media outlets and blogs are so quick to comment on Bradford Cox's unpredictable mood swings and difficult nature, yet they glaze over his many moments of sincere kindness and approachability because it's much less exciting to read about.

Deerhunter closed the set with a noisy extended jam of Monomania and Microcastle's Twilight At Carbon Lake.  The band quickly returned for a three song encore and left with equal haste, (as Bradford Cox was scheduled for a DJ set at Williamsburg haunt Glasslands) but the crowd descended the grimy exit stairs in a flurry of excited chatter.  Now that these characters had experienced what brought them back together, their worlds would go back to business as usual: whether that business be school, stocks or stonerism, their familiar social constructs were passed over and swirled together by the creative juggernaut that is Deerhunter.