Rock and roll music has a way of getting fans to geek out in a super unashamed, uncool but amazingly beautiful way. A rock fan can go to a show completely sober and head bang until they’ve caught a stiff neck and minor whiplash. And this has been quite a week for rock and roll fans. First, Jack White tore through a rainy Red Rocks, performing something more otherworldly than just another scheduled performance. You can see it in the eyes of a true performer, fires spark somewhere deep in the black depths of the pupils and a primal—almost animalistic–need to exert dominance over their instrument ensues. It’s like watching a Phoenix explode into flames or a Pegasus dart through the sky.
But sometimes you follow a band long enough to see them transform from feral rock beasts to housecats. And instead of a primitive need to just play, image reigns and record labels make the rules.
Portugal. The Man is one of my favorite rock bands. Since 2006, the band has shuffled through members, experimented with different sounds, but always kept audiences at an arm’s length with raw rock music and reclusive tendencies. Frontman John Gourley has always been something of an introvert, allowing for his shrill vocals and untamed guitar solos to do the talking. When Portugal announced a “secret show,” whispers whirled as fans hoped to be one of the lucky few to nab a ticket to the performance that sold out in minutes.
And delivered they did, initiating an intricate blend of heavy shredding, expert basslines and ear-splitting percussion. The band brought their laser lights to the tiny Larimer Lounge, where a crowd packed into the hot venue, sweating and moshing through the whole night. I felt like I was in high school, being thrown into a crowd of rock fans singing along to Pink Floyd’s “Another Brick in the Wall” as it effortlessly transitioned into Portugal’s own “Purple, Yellow, Red and Blue.”
The band played favorites like “People Say,” “So American,” “Out and In and In and Out,” then ran through the entirety of their newest full-length Evil Friends, with drunken vigor and purist rock outlandishness. And it’s no surprise that they played nearly every song off of their newest album, it was produced by their newest label and record giant, Atlantic Records.
At Red Rocks the following night, the band lethargically ran through the same exact set as the buzzed-about secret show (which one would think rendered some special add-ins or something), it became quite evident who is now driving the Portugal. The Man ship.
“Our record label says we can’t swear on the next album,” Gourley said before strumming the beginning notes of “Hip Hop Kids.”
At their Red Rocks headlining debut the band looked unimpressed, haughty even. Especially Gourley, who ditched his hipster look from the night before in favor of channeling a bad impression of Prince at a funeral. His guitar solos were technical and near perfect, but there was little emotion, no feeling. And it made me sad. I looked around as fans geeked out to these perfect specimens of instrumental prowess only to look up and see their guitar hero looking bored, causing their own body language to slump into a tamer demeanor.
But Grouplove set the tone for an energetic night that Portugal just couldn’t keep up with. Vocalist Hannah Hooper hopped around stage looking like Gwen Stefani in a lace catsuit and high-top sneakers. She rapped, screamed, squealed and sang her way into the hearts of nearly every man and woman at the show. Grouplove’s vitality and excitement for the performance went unmasked and full-frontal. They covered Beyonce’s Drunk in Love as Hooper climbed onto the front of the stage to rap and surfboart” while grinding her hips ala Queen Bey. The fun, flirty vocal play between Hooper and