Buzz Beach Ball had something for just about everyone at Sporting Park last night

Buzz Beach Ball 2014
Sporting Park, Kansas City
Friday, September 5

There are very few bands for whom I would stand in the rain, and none of them were playing at Sporting Park last night. To get past the rain and general discomfort that came with it, a band was going to have to be absolutely dazzling.

Thankfully, after a series of mishaps (including — but not limited to — losing my bank card in the cab of a pickup), I found my way into Sporting Park, where the rain had stopped and the Mowgli’s had just taken the stage. If ever there were a band to take the stage in the post-rain sunshine, this was it. Their rising indie pop is chorus-rich, and warmed the crowd from their damp clothes. 

The Mowglis are well-suited to an outdoor environment like the soccer stadium, where their harmonies can soar the way they’re meant to. The crowd positively roared with approval for each successive song, even for a new one — something usually met with passive approval and patience, at best.

Bear Hands play standard angular alt rock, and hails from Brooklyn. It’s not anything to blow your hair back, but they’ve got a knack for rhythms that make you unconsciously nod your head and tap your toes. But seriously, their guitar tone? Monstrous. Their front man jangles along, but the guy on second guitar absolutely knows how to pull out a riff or chord that just slays. It’s always impressive when a band like Bear Hands can be perfectly unimpressive upon first listen, yet hold your attention for the entire set.

Such was not the case for the 1975, although I am 100% not the audience which they attract. Their entrance was met with cheers and screams which were Beatles-at-Shea-Stadium loud. Every hair flip and pelvic thrust from frontman Matt Healy seemed to me completely predetermined, but each action was met with cacophonous shrieks of approval. Their laconic dance rock was plodding and simple, but sold sex with each successive song. It’s astonishing to see how big this band has gotten, but the 1975 has tapped into something beyond my level of understanding.

They’re calculated to appeal directly to misunderstood 15 year-old girls, and it absolutely works. A little goes a long way, too, and by the time they played “Just Go,” that’s pretty much what I was thinking, and couldn’t wait for them to be done, and the next act to begin.

Unfortunately, the next act was Big Data, who were to be commended for their passion and verve, but their music tried to be dance, funk, rock, and pop, and just ended up as a muddy mess. You could see them giving their all on stage, but hear the audience collectively not give a shit. A wash of conversational chatter rose above all of Big Data’s songs, and it was positively heartbreaking to experience, but sadly understandable. If you’re the band before Weezer, it’s hard enough. If you’re the mediocre band before Weezer, you’re absolutely fucked. When the only thing I remember about your set is the pre-programmed robot voice that introduced your set, you’re hosed.

Speaking of, the last time I saw Weezer, it precipitated the breakup of a year-and-a-half long relationship, so I was rather apprehensive as to their set. No worries. They came out and played a one-two punch of “My Name is Jonas” and “Hash Pipe,” and the audience was in the palm of their hand from then on. Their power-pop is absolutely timeless, and their ability to absolutely rock an audience hasn’t lost a step. It was a powerfully fun performance, if heavy on songs from their new album. Obviously, the classic material was met with the most enthusiastic response, but even the new songs like “Back to the Shack” had a scream of approval. Hell, even a made-up song about the Beach Ball that introduced “Island in the Sun” kept the audience rapt.

Weezer kept things interesting, with the aforementioned “Island in the Sun” getting an arena-rock makeover, which played nicely with something like “Surf Wax America,” with the entirety of the band’s set sounding more rock than pop. It’s astonishing to think they’ve been a band for over 20 years, yet still manage to sound fresh and interesting.

Meg Myers was greeted with a “We want Meg!” chant, making her the most-anticipated act of the second stage. Her rock and roll was soulful, but worked with an edge that made it hard to know where she and her band would go next. Essentially, it was the opposite of the 1975, feeling like Myers was doing this for her, rather than for any sort of audience response. She fed the crowd a steady diet of songs that managed to sound so much bigger than the small stage upon which she prowled her petite frame.

While the songs Myers played guitar on were the most sonically interesting, when she divested herself of the guitar and danced, she seemed more free and definitely grabbed the crowd’s attention, dancing as if possessed by some sort of demon.

The biggest problem with the whole show was that muddy sound anywhere but in front of the stage kept the Beach Ball from being as good as it could have been. The sound in the stands was like listening from the parking lot. Funnily enough, this time, the Arctic Monkeys managed to thrive in this situation. The two times I’ve seen them prior, they sounded terrible.

Their usually-muddy wash of a live sound actually managed to sound rather good in this situation. Perhaps it had something to do with the open air. Maybe it was the fact that the quartet kept to slower numbers, allowing for a little more space between the notes. As it was, their posing had something behind it for this go-round, and it was a pleasure to see them play and not walk away, shaking my head in frustration, for once.