If one were to do a quick word association with the constituent nouns and adjectives in Tokyo Police Club's name, one would probably come up with a remarkably fitting amalgam to describe the young Toronto band's sound.
The chugging bass and driving drums recall the weightless propulsion of Japan's high-speed maglev rail system. Their often future obsessed lyrics share a definite affinity with a city that for all intents and purposes is living in a time about 20 years ahead of our own. The dopplering guitar wail, distant at first, then close, then far away again, mimics that of a police siren such that the bodies in the small WIRED store gave off a palpable tension whenever the cyclical intensity reached its peak. And Club: despite the miniature coterie that all bands inevitably comprise, Tokyo Police Club pulls you into their world. They ask you to put your hands together, to clap, and to sing, to stomp with the songs, to shout when they shout, and to dance in step with them.
Thus, the technological treehouse that is the WIRED pop-up store on 4th and Broadway was the perfect venue to host the Tokyo Police Club holiday party on December 15th. The purveyors of USB Swiss Army Knives and everything-proof jackets housed a band, who amidst blips and claps sing "to build a better world, for man and machine alike," and who wish to tether today with tomorrow. In between songs singer/bassist Dave Monks quipped that USB cables powered their equipment and that their amps changed color in the daylight.
Before the band wrapped up the set they invited their unlikely friend Matisyahu up on stage for one last song. Between Dave Monks' ecstatic bounce, Matisyahu's rapping around staccato guitars, a precise rhythm section, and future-sized keyboards, the onstage collaboration produced a live mash-up that one only expects to hear on record.
P.S. Matisyahu was singing about the 8-night miracle that is Hannukah, the festival of lights. 'Tis the season!
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