Hot Chip

As those who follow the sport are aware, every regular baseball season is preceded by a month’s worth of Spring Training games. All of these take place in the balmy environs of Arizona (“Cactus League”) or Florida (“Grapefruit League”) because that’s where all ballclubs have their springtime training facilities, and the teams in each league are close enough to one another to cut down on excessive bus rides. Further, most other parts of the country are still snowy come March, and nobody wants to end their season early due to a cold weather-induced muscle pull.

On account of the generally agreeable weather, many fans treat Spring Training as a vacation destination. It’s a chance for autograph hounds to see veteran players up close and personal, and maybe you’ll be able to say that you saw a rising star ‘back when.’ Also, tickets are significantly cheaper than those sold during the regular season, and this is part of the unwritten contract between ownership and fans. Spring Training is lots of fun, but less expensive because it’s no substitute for the real thing. You’re never going to see a Starting 9, the big names may only play two innings at a time, and while teams don’t exactly play to lose, nobody other than rookies trying to make the team busts it because the priority is to not get hurt. But this is ok. You know what to expect in advance, and it’s reflected in the ticket price.

This somehow brings me to the topic of Hot Chip’s live show. Two nights ago I paid full price to see the band in New York City’s Central Park. Their latest record is arguably the finest of their career thus far, and I was excited to see them live, having never done so. So why did I feel like I was witnessing the Brit-pop equivalent a Spring Training game? Upon taking the stage, five members of the six member band announced that one of their two frontmen, Joe Goddard, was simply unavailable because his wife was set to give birth any day now. Good for him, and I guess not entirely unexpected coming from a band whose latest record extols the virtues of marriage and monogamy to an extent nearly unheard of outside of Christian Rock. Except now the band was down a musician and lead vocalist; Goddard isn’t expendable like the dude who just stands in the back and pushes some buttons, he’s a material part of Hot Chip. And while Alexis Taylor is still the more vital singer of the two in terms of their lilting melodies, the absence was annoying.

To their credit, Hot Chip immediately apologized for the absence after the first song (“Boy From School” no less, credit is due for not making us wait), and on three separate occasions used a television onstage to beam Goddard’s pre-recorded face singing his vocal parts (yeah, this happened). But a friend of mine who had seen them before acknowledged that the songs were glaringly stripped down, and given that they had at least nine months notice of Goddard’s unavailability, perhaps they should have rescheduled the gig, let the audience know in advance, or have charged less? It was still a fun time; the new songs sound good, and twenty-three year old girls completely lose their shit to “Ready for the Floor.” But taking the stage with only one of your two frontmen is going to leave an attendee feeling like he just witnessed Spring Training baseball, and if I’m going to be paying full price, I want the real thing. What do you think?