Last Week Live: Ratatat
However, despite the great enthusiasm of the crowd at Sonar, the band itself seemed a little lackluster. It was almost as if they were just going through the motions rather than being actively engaged in the performance and the atmosphere. This is no great surprise, as Baltimore was the last stop on their tour, but it was still a little disappointing to see that in such an intimate setting as Sonar they couldn't connect more with the audience.
The band played for under an hour in total, and guitarist Stroud seemed at times downright apathetic.
It is fair to say, however, that by the end of the night this feeling had largely dissipated as Ratatat blasted its final song in a cloud of billowing smoke, their uncle on stage banging on the drums and two enthusiastic girls from the audience screaming along with them.
Perhaps what I observed as their lack of enthusiasm was only a relative lack of enthusiasm when compared to the power of the audience. Rarely have I seen a crowd of young adults on a Sunday night so ready to dance or a background video of such epic and surrealist proportions.
Ratatat was lucky to have had a willing crowd of pumped-up followers before them, and had their performance been anything less, it might have taken more on the part of Stroud and Mast to keep the fans so involved in the show.
From the moment they got on stage, the concertgoers, myself included, were swept into a pulsating dance extravaganza, and all my thoughts of the night of studying at the library yet to come slipped away.
The only real problem with the entire evening was that the energetic crowd easily could have gone on for hours more, so for them, the show ended far too soon.
The band played for under an hour in total, and guitarist Stroud seemed at times downright apathetic.
It is fair to say, however, that by the end of the night this feeling had largely dissipated as Ratatat blasted its final song in a cloud of billowing smoke, their uncle on stage banging on the drums and two enthusiastic girls from the audience screaming along with them.
Perhaps what I observed as their lack of enthusiasm was only a relative lack of enthusiasm when compared to the power of the audience. Rarely have I seen a crowd of young adults on a Sunday night so ready to dance or a background video of such epic and surrealist proportions.
Ratatat was lucky to have had a willing crowd of pumped-up followers before them, and had their performance been anything less, it might have taken more on the part of Stroud and Mast to keep the fans so involved in the show.
From the moment they got on stage, the concertgoers, myself included, were swept into a pulsating dance extravaganza, and all my thoughts of the night of studying at the library yet to come slipped away.
The only real problem with the entire evening was that the energetic crowd easily could have gone on for hours more, so for them, the show ended far too soon.
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