Brett didn't take any photos, not wanting to ire Mr. Kozelek further, so instead we'll use this promo shot by Amanda Marsalis to demonstrate the show's lighting setup. Here's the band as they might appear on a normally-lit stage... ...and here they appear in a more Kozelek-intensive lighting plot.

Ideally, a person who reviews a show should be totally objective, telling it like it is so that in the event that the band in question comes through your town, you will feel comfortable plunking down money to see them. Money that you might otherwise waste on, say, food. Or rent.

The unfortunate reality is that in many cases, the reviewer is a rabid fan of the band in question, and would like the show no matter how bad it was. Certainly, that is true in this case. I had been waiting for so long to see the Red House Painters that I would probably have loved it if they had played nothing but acoustic Korn covers (which, considering lead singer Mark Kozelek's AC/DC fixation, isn't really that unrealistic an idea). Given that caveat, I have to say that this show exceeded even my grandiose expectations, and that I will remember it for the rest of my life.

9:00 p.m.: We arrived at the Bowery at precisely the time advertised for the show. As everyone knows, the advertised start time is a lie, designed to get people into the club so that they will be there for a longer time, forced to alleviate their boredom with overpriced drinks. I was, therefore, shocked when the opening band, The Shins, took the stage precisely on schedule and ripped into a very enjoyable set. The band has a guitar/bass/drums/tiny-little-synthesizer-that-produces-high-pitches lineup; they sport a kind of Weezeresque sound, augmented by said synth guy and a lead singer who sounds eerily like Sting circa Synchronicity.

At first, they seemed an odd choice to open for the Painters, as you could hear about half of their album in the time it takes Mark Kozelek and co. to get through one sweeping relationship-breakup epic. In retrospect, however, the choice made sense for a couple of reasons. First, the Shins share the Painters' new label, SubPop. Second, if a band like Low, or Hayden, or another slow-core group opened, the concert would be so sluggish and sad that it would be boring. Imagine a Red House Painters/Black Heart Procession show. Then imagine slitting your wrists.

So, one forty-minute set and needlessly long set change brings us to:

10:15 p.m.: Kozelek arrived onstage alone, with a minumum of flash and a maximal effect on the crowd. He strapped on his telecaster and languidly strummed into a solo version of Old Ramon's first track, "Wop-a-Din-Din." In a vintage Ian MacKaye move, he stopped mid-song and politely asked the people in front to "Please stop taking flash pictures. I mean, how many different pictures do you need of one fucking guy holding a guitar?" I briefly feared that the temperamental frontman might cut short a show I had waited eight years to see. Fortunately, despite the intermittent flashes that flickered throughout the evening, that was the last we heard about the issue.

It was around this time that I noticed that I had a clear view of the stage, with none of the usual "Manute-Bol-has-come-to-this-show-and-decided-to-stand-directly-in-front-of-me" problems. A closer look in front of me revealed that, sure enough, the prime club real estate was packed wall to wall with girls -- girls whose eyes had already glazed over with a combination of dreamy contentment and wild lust. Beautiful girls who were all longing to be the next in the endless parade of failed affairs that populate Mark Kozelek's work. I had to admit, he had the dreamy, soft-spoken, angst-ridden poet thing down pat; I briefly considered eschewing my heterosexuality (after all, what had it done for me lately?), but as rest of the band took the stage, I forgot all concerns but the music.

It was, frankly, beautiful. As is the case with any group with a good-looking, highly charismatic frontman, the other guys in this band labor in semi-obscurity. Adding insult to injury, literally every light on the stage was focused on Mark throughout the show -- so the brighter the spotlight became, the harder it was to see that there was anyone backing up the lead singer. At some points, Kozelek appeared to be standing in a pool of light, alone, apart, and above both the audience and the band. From what I've read, this is a position these guys have had to get used to.

Here, at least, they will get their due. Rhythm guitarist Phil Carney provided the emotional underpinnings for each song, maintaining a sad decorum as Kozelek's guitar lines often veered into squealing feedback. Jerry Vessel's bass was subtle, unobtrusive and lithe, lending the sound a liquid quality that served to focus the listeners' attention during marathon song lengths. Most of all, Anthony Koutsos' drums offered amazing dynamic range, so reserved as a rule that when he rapped the snare smartly, it felt like a physical blow. Moreso than most, this band is greater than the sum of its parts -- whatever the press, or Kozelek himself, may think.

The first hour of the show started with "Grace Cathedral Park", then leaned heavily on Old Ramon. Reversing the normal tendency of bands to speed things up on stage, the Painters actually slowed many already languid songs down. "Byrd Joel", the first single, received this treatment, as did "Michigan" and "Cruiser". Surprisingly, the tactic worked; the audience was ready for the kind of show the band was playing, and everyone seemed to fall into a state of blissful hypnosis.

11:30 p.m.: As the show stretched into a second hour, the band mined its back catalogue, emphasizing Songs for Blue Guitar and Red House Painters (the eponymous album with the rollercoaster on the cover). Fan favorites like "Mistress", "Have You Forgotten" and "New Jersey" had a new yearning and immediacy when played live. Kozelek's vocals sounded perfect as he subtly altered the rhythms and the words he sang, keeping the audience rapt, even if they knew the songs by heart. Standouts included a full-band version of "Find Me, Reuben Olivares" from Kozelek's solo album and a totally unexpected cover of Pink Floyd's "Dogs". The latter was a fine example of the seemingly effortless re-imagining of songs of which the band is capable.

12:45 p.m.: The encore began with another two solo songs; "Three-Legged Cat", from the Shock Me EP, segued directly into "Sundays and Holidays" from the same record. "Sundays" was played to appease one incredibly loud fan who had disturbed the near-silence between songs by screaming for it after each number. Kozelek dedicated the song to "Shutting that one motherfucker up." The show ended, nearly three hours after it began, with a full-band rendition of "Katy Song", arguably the most beautiful track the group has ever recorded. A song about the end of a relationship, the rightness of the decision to break up and the horrible numbness the decision leaves, it was cathartic. More than one person was cheering with tears in his eyes as the show ended.

This performance raised the bar for all subsequent shows I will see. If you like the band at all, and if you get the chance, spend the money to see them. I promise you, it's worth it.

Article by Brett McCallon.