Live Review: Ariel Pink with Jack Name at Neumos 2/10/15

Where do you draw the line between the man Ariel Rosenberg and Ariel Pink, the rock icon and sex god character he's brewed up to give to all of us over the last 15 years? That's not a rhetorical question - honestly, I couldn't tell you. I don't think there's a good answer. But then again, with a really good character, maybe you shouldn't be able to tell. Maybe the innate mixture of the two, where Pink crosses over from the controlled art exhibitions of his records into social media and music blog headlines, maybe that's where we get Pink in his element... or maybe not. Maybe the best place to get the full Ariel Pink experience, like most rock operas, is on stage. It certainly was the case a couple years ago, when we saw Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti at the Crocodile on tour for Mature Themes. There, the character was in full bloom, with an album full of "mature" content played in full by a vampire eating pizza in between every song. But Pink's newest endeavor pom pom is a totally different beast. His first "solo" record in quite a while, Ariel Pink went bigger, badder, and more bizarre than ever before with this parade of a record. And after getting to digest it for a handful of months, we finally got to see how it held up in the live setting here tonight. With an opening set from Jack Name, Ariel Pink stuck to his weird and wonderful guns at Neumos, playing a set unlike any other. I don't think he could copy anyone else if he tried.Opening up the night tonight was LA electronic mystery Jack Name. Huddled in a crowded threesome, the trio didn't say a single word to the audience for the duration of their entire set. Rather, they just rocked out Bruce Haack-esque electronic for 30 minutes and then waved goodbye. The band didn't say their name. They didn't endorse either of their excellent LPs both put in the last 13 months. Lead singer and guitarist John Webster Adams threw down some of the most brutal guitar licks I've seen at a non-metal gig in the last year, and he barely had his amp turned up above the drum machines. No, Jack Name is not about flair, it's not about crowd interaction, and it's not about showmanship, but hot damn, what it is is a dark and intensely addictive electronic endeavor that I hope and pray everyone at this show went home and checked out immediately.

Jack Name:

Ariel Pink entered the stage in a shimmery silver top, cheetah pants, reflective aviator sunglasses, and steel toe boots. As cheers exploded from the crowd, his band manned instruments and he readjusted his microphone stand with a drum stick in hand. Looking bored, almost confused to be there, he leaned over the microphone and looked to his band. "I forgot my cucumber", he said - no context, just a statement. At first, with the inflection at hand and the flamboyant outfit, it seemed like an entendre of some sort. How could that need explanation on a tour for Ariel Pink's latest freakout masterpiece pom pom? The album is ripe with sexual antics, none of which fit into your typical pop mantra, and some of which that don't fit into much of anything at all. So when Ariel Pink stands up on stage, talks about a cucumber, and rattles off song after song like he's doing karaoke at Silver Lake dive bar, somehow it makes perfect sense. The guy is a living, walking character study of the least representative rock god ever.

Side ponytail flittering through the thick fog machine smoke in between blinks of the strobe lights, Pink seems especially aloof behind the dual mirrors of his sunglasses. For the first hour of his set, no one saw Pink's eyes - only the direction his head was pointed and the ineffective angles of his drum stick smacking against the microphone stand. Pink's ensemble on stage is excellent - members of Haunted Graffiti joined by a handful more all bond together to bring pom pom to a massive representation. Tracks like "Lipstick" and "Dayzed Inn Daydreams" were gargantuan in comparison to their fuzzy on-album counterparts. But all the while, Pink himself seemed disinterested in the caricature, almost as if basking in the work already created and now just playing out the character impersonations therein to full levels of apathy in real life. It's kind of an odd thing, going to see a live performance of an album essentially dedicated to exposing the innate mushiness of the pop genre, because the execution has to be sarcastic and half-baked to stick within the bounds of the character. It's a difficult undertaking, but Pink is willing to do it. There's rarely been a dull moment in the man's uncompromisingly odd career.

The one truly overpowering moment of the set came towards the end. Pink backed into a corner behind the keyboards and sang the entirety of "Picture Me Gone" barely visible to the crowd. But if you squinted through the dark and the flashing lights, Pink lifted his sunglasses just for the moment to stare at the stage and sing the track with powerful conviction. The apathy and braindead sexualization of pop only goes so far, especially when legacy is involved. This truth is not lost on Pink, who brought his rock opera to a climax here with this excellent number.

Upon returning for the encore, Pink brought a cucumber. He didn't say anything about it. Rather, he just took a bite about every three lines. He played two covers (including "Bright Lit Blue Sky"), both in honor of the recently deceased rock legend Kim Fowley (who co-wrote a number of pom pom trakcs with Pink from his hospital bed), then ended the show with a crowd-participation heavy rendition of "Sexual Athletics". By the time it ended, the cucumber was about three-quarters gone, and Pink took another bite as he waved goodbye and exited the stage. It wasn't a joke after all - par for the course for Ariel Pink.

Ariel Pink: