Future Islands Unleashes the Beast at Brooklyn Bowl

Accidentally arriving at a concert more than an hour early isn’t typically ideal. But Thursday’s Future Islands show at Brooklyn Bowl was well worth the wait. And as someone who’d never seen the band live but was well aware of their eccentric style, I knew I more than likely needed some time to mentally prepare for frontman Samuel T. Herring and his gang, anyway. 

Future Islands’ fellow Baltimoreans Ed Schrader’s Music Beat warmed up the spotlight. Having recently returned to their old duo form, they carried the crowd with only Devlin Rice’s bass guitar and Schrader singing and beating on a single big ol’ drum. (Sadly, our photog missed out on their set.) The band’s 30-minute set took the crowd on a stop-and-go tour of their diverse discography, quickly careening from harsh, bass-scratching bangers to sultry solo ballads. Occasionally, they paused to admire the novelty of the bowling alley/music venue combination.

“Any of y’all bowl today?” asked Schrader. “I love a place where people are bowling. Feel free to dance around, feel free to bowl.”

By the second song, Rice had head-banged his glasses off and Schrader’s slicked-back bun was tousled. The duo’s harsh melodic bite was complemented with a bark, too. They captured the full spectrum of ’80s post-punk and New Wave, including the casually confident quirk of Let’s Dance-era Bowie and the off-kilter intensity of Bauhaus’ Peter Murphy.

After a few Depeche Mode and Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark tunes wafted over the speakers, Future Islands waltzed onstage. If anyone in the packed audience was not familiar with the band’s live-performance style — expecting perhaps a tranquil hang with some middle-aged indie dudes just vibin’ — well, they learned pretty quickly what kind of party this was going to be. From the beginning of opening song “King of Sweden,” Herring prowled, pranced and convulsed across the stage, unleashing death metal yelps.

Over nearly two decades, the band has fine-tuned their storytelling expertise and their danceable indie-art-pop sound, most recently with their new album People Who Aren’t There Anymore. Herring’s exaggerated vocal performance has helped theirs be a refreshingly ear-opening take on a tried-and-true genre.

Keyboardist and programmer Gerrit Welmers made his home atop a giant cube, complete with his own personal ladder adjacent to an archway through which the band exited and entered the stage. Eye-level with the mezzanine, Welmers' elevated position seemed fitting, with his signature key-stroking effectively acting as the backbone for the synth-based post-wave band. Herring, of course, stuck to the flat expanse of the stage, the only expanse suitable for his dancing endeavors. After 18 years and hundreds and hundreds of shows, it’s a modern medical miracle that Herring is able to scamper around a different stage nearly every night, quite literally kicking and screaming. He has a modern Morrissey-esque flair — sans the dramatic shirt-ripping, thankfully.

Drummer Michael Lowry ensured the songs packed a powerful punch to match, along with double-threat bassist and guitarist William Cashion taking charge with riffs that often lilted but got sharp when he needed them to. Four songs in, band and audience got a brief moment of respite when Herring’s microphone transmitter faltered because it was drowned in sweat. 

“I’m wet, man,” Herring said. “Surrounding me with electronics, that’s a bad combo. I’m my own underwater adventure.”

But like they say, it’s no use crying over a sweat-drenched mic pack. And so the show went on, as did Herring’s erratic and mildly threatening dance moves. In between his move-busting, he often remarked on the beauty of the crowd. He followed almost every song with his signature hasty “Thank you,” which I mistook more than once for a loud sneeze. Ed Schrader returned to the stage to perform “Shadows” with Herring, making a worthy substitution for Debbie Harry, who featured on the recorded version. The pair gamely matched each other’s eccentricity, each bringing their own expression of the post-wave spectrum to the table.

As the blend of old favorites and newer ballads that made up the set drew to a close, it came time for “the big one.” If a Future Islands show is a country all its own, their 2014 breakout hit “Seasons (Waiting on You)” is the national freakin’ anthem. Eliciting chants of “Play it!” from the audience, the song had both fanatics and fledgling fans clearing space around them to dance with abandon. 

After a three-song encore and a routine featuring Herring mockingly eating his own fist, the band finally packed up for the night. It was hard to not feel a little melancholy watching them leave for the final time through the giant cube. But the group — especially Herring — thrives onstage, and it seems inevitable they’ll be back before long.