So, um, when did the Album Leaf become so popular? I’m not trying to say that Jimmy LaValle and Co. don’t deserve it because their show was tremendous, and as someone who had a passing interest in their music, it inspired me to listen a little closer. But I was not expecting a sellout with upward of about 300 people at the Rhythm Room.

No doubt the Album Leaf’s presence on Sub Pop helps. Although maybe nothing benefits an indie artist more these days it seems than having music featured on The O.C., which LaValle’s was from his previous album, In a Safe Place. (In a slight coincidence, the under-21 area, conveniently sectioned off right next to the merch table, was crammed.) As cranky over-21ers, we settled in ever so uncomfortably right next to the bar. From there, it was a bit difficult to see a seated LaValle play his various keyboards and electronic toys, although the atmospheric mood of his music – even live with the band in front of you – asks more of your auditory senses than visual.

Perhaps compensating for that, the band – four guys in all – plays almost in time with a video companion, a different visual theme for each song. A makeshift movie screen behind the band projects images that are artsy and abstract – a woman painting her fingernails, a black and white Western, kaleidoscope-like color effects. Most of it seems in time to the music, which suggests some sort of choreography and careful thought and not just some slapdash set list thrown together in the tour van five minutes before the gig. I imagine it to be – on a much smaller scale, of course – similar to the effect Pink Floyd was after. In a way, because the Album Leaf’s music is mostly instrumental, the images almost give the music a soundtrack, some texture or context for which the fans can write their own words.

My wife, who never lets me slip, brought to my attention that I wasn’t exactly fond of Ratatat’s live show about a month earlier, noting in part my lukewarm tastes toward instrumental bands heavy, so what’s the difference here? Good question. The Album Leaf offers music a little more rich and dense; the live show was, for me anyway, thought-provoking. Ratatat, if we’re comparing (perhaps unfairly), came off a little self-absorbed; I don’t really get anything out of it other than what’s on the surface, which is electronic dance music. I’m not putting LaValle on a pedestal here, but I feel like I could explore his instrumental work more – the shape of it, the composition, the instruments – than with Ratatat.

Speaking of instrumental groups, one of the openers was the Lymbyc System, a duo which, unbeknownst to me, is from right here in Phoenix. The group is signed to Mush Records, a label that boasts a roster of pretty great experimental-type hip-hop acts as well (Busdriver, Daedelus, etc.). Apparently, I need to pay more attention because the Lymbyc System is opening for the Album Leaf this entire tour, which makes sense given the Lymbyc System’s big, synth-driven soundscapes.

(Final note: We showed up late, so we caught only two songs by locals Colorstore, about which I’ve heard nothing but good things. I bought a CD and plan to discuss them soon.)

The Album Leaf | Always For You
The Lymbyc System | Carved By Glaciers
Colorstore | Poor Bird

Probably the first thing to note – or, rather, get out of the way – about Thursday’s Cold War Kids show at the Clubhouse is the subpar turnout. This seems more an indictment of the sometimes-apathetic scene here than Cold War Kids, who, after all, originally were scheduled to open for the Futureheads but had the foresight to keep the dates and headline themselves after Futureheads canceled. Had the show been booked with Cold War Kids as headliner from the get-go, it’s likely a smaller, more fitting venue would have been picked. But inside the Clubhouse, a fairly open, midsize venue, the 40 or so people who showed up made it feel rather empty.

I realize a few factors were at play here. The Futureheads’ cancellation didn’t help and Thrice was playing across town at Marquee Theater, possibly siphoning off some potential Clubhouse-goers. But I saw at least a couple people walk up to buy tickets who left once they found out the Futureheads canceled. That, to me, is the frustrating part. Hey, you’re already out; pay the $10 and take in a show, which turned out to be really damn good. Naturally, Cold War Kids packed their hometown Los Angeles show the previous night, so I wonder what their expectations/feelings were about coming to Arizona. But then, we saw Band of Horses at the Rhythm Room in Phoenix about six months apart and the second show was sold out, about 300 people compared to roughly 75 the first time. That’s a telling sign of the scene here – frustratingly fair-weather. I imagine as Cold War Kids continue to pick up steam, their next stop here will be significantly more crowded.

And their inevitable popularity won’t surprise me at all either, but I will reserve the right to bitch at the next show when we’re all shoulder to shoulder and I can’t buy a beer because it’s too crowded: “Where the hell were you people last time?” Just in the four months since we first saw them in Tucson, Cold War Kids appeared more grounded and confident in their live set, though, fortunately, that doesn’t mean any less energetic. Guitarist Jonnie Russell is a kinetic performer, stomping around and twisting his torso, a welcome bit of showmanship when singer Nathan Willett is tied to his piano bench.

That loose energy serves their songs well. They opened with We Used to Vacation, which sounded oddly cohesive for how many moving parts (piano, rattle, free-standing cymbal being bashed with said rattle) are taking place at once. The group is averse to boring three-chord pitfalls, each instrument taking off on different paths before meeting at the common goal. Singer Nathan Willett inevitably steers the whole thing straight. His voice can soar or dive in or out, up and down. It’s probably more impressive and powerful live than on record, which, I would guess, is not an easy feat.

As for favorites, well, Hospital Beds can do no wrong, and hearing that jogging guitar line on Rubidoux and that sturdy bassline on Hang Me Up to Dry (the closer) pretty much sealed my enjoyment for the evening.

Fellow Los Angelians (Los Angelites?, Los Angelists?) band from Los Angeles Foreign Born opened. I liked them quite a bit, though I hate hearing a band for the first time live because it never really sticks. I’m putting them on my radar for CD shopping. Anyway, they have a blog, too.

Cold War Kids
MySpace | official site
mp3 | Tell Me in the Morning

Foreign Born
MySpace | official site blog
mp3 | The Entryway