The Postal Service

(Jenny Lewis and Ben Gibbard from The Postal Service)

Like every college kid in 2003, I listened to The Postal Service.  I remember driving across the Olentangy River onto High Street, heading towards The Ohio State campus with my windows down on a humid fall day and blaring "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight."  The band's seminal (and only) album, Give Up, proved to be vital Ohio listening that year, along with Elephant, Ghosts of the Great Highway, It Still Moves, and Transatlanticism.  (Ben Gibbard had some year, right?).

I am also transported to the treadmills of the Dublin Rec Center, where the songs' Atari-driven backbeats gave life to my running.  Nostalgia is a strange elixir.  As I listened to The Postal Service's set last night, it was as if I had just stepped off from campus--or the treadmill--and my life was fast-forwarded in an instant to the concert, everything else falling away and leaving only the music from then and now.  It felt exhilarating.

Gibbard's command of the vocals was reassuring, while Jimmy Tamborello's electronic production was clean and precise.  And Jenny Lewis was even more alluring--especially with a guitar in her hands--than she was in that Corn Pops commercial.  The band sounded great, and there were more live drums and guitars than I had ever anticipated.  (Gibbard and even Lewis hit the kit several times throughout the night).  The crowd was a smattering of punks, hipsters, college kids turned suburbanites, and young people who clearly did not listen to Give Up ten years ago.  The D Man, Rizzo, J, and Stark the Vinyl Shark joined the throngs at Saltair and had a great time.  We all agreed afterwards that the show could be boiled down to its essence: it was a lot of fun.

• The District Sleeps Alone Tonight.  How can you open with anything else?  The first track from Give Up is still an original pop creation.
• We Will Become Silhouettes.  I'm not coming out until this is all over.  Arguably the most enjoyable post-apocalypse song ever written.
• Sleeping In.  Not surprisingly, I remembered almost every lyric from every song.  This number stood out in high relief during the set.  Gibbard's sharp vocals were effortless, and his lyrics have not been dulled by the past decade.  Don't wake me I plan on sleeping in!
• Turn Around.
• Nothing Better.  The "duet" from the album. This performance could be considered the Conway Twitty and Loretta Lynn of the indie world.  Gibbard and Lewis appeared to be having a great time as they danced together and traded good-natured emotional barbs.  Their voices have always been perfect for each other.
• Recycled Air.  Still love this song.
• Be Still My Heart.
• Clark Gable.
• Our Secret.  An excellent Beat Happening cover.
• This Place Is A Prison.
• There's Never Enough Time.
• A Tattered Line of String.  The new songs that were released with Give Up's deluxe reissue fit in seamlessly during the show.
• Such Great Heights.  Gibbard thanked the crowd and reminded us that we were all here ten years later because we still liked the music.  When the song's initial bleeps started pouring through the speakers, the crowd began clapping in unison.  Everyone knew every word.  When Gibbard hit the lightning-quick guitar strums, The D Man experienced some kind of personal euphoria.  A few years ago I tried to capture the Thirty Best Songs of the Decade, the most essential tracks of the 21st Century.  Though the list may be a little different now, this massive pop song would still make the cut.  
• Natural Anthem.
• This Is The Dream of Evan and Chan.  The band's "first song" started off the encore.  From Dntel's Life is Full of Possibilities.
• Brand New Colony.  I knew there had to be another song coming from the album, but I could not remember what was left.  When the video game bloops tumbled out, the crowd went Super Mario 3 or something.  Since the band created their influential lap-pop masterpiece, thousands of wannabes have tried to make meaningful music from their computers.  But few have ever done it this well.