- Pantha Du Prince and Dada Life: Together at last? Despite being one of the more bipolar double-billings I've seen in quite some time, a stateside appearance from Hendrik Weber, better known as Pantha Du Prince, is definitely a rare occurrence worth noting. Given that this was only his second show in New York thus far, I was more than willing to brave almost anything to see him perform live.
Arriving just minutes before Pantha Du Prince went on, I was surprised to find the club completely packed—rare for a weekday, especially given the size of Santos Party House's main room. I can only assume that all the various maneuvers towards cross-over appeal (the label switch from Dial to Rough Trade, the collaborations with Panda Bear and Tyler Pope) have done wonders in boosting his profile in the US. However, before I could examine the crowd in any detail, the lights went down and fog began to pour into the room. In the midst of all this smoke, Weber shuffled on stage, a hoodie draped over his head like an unassuming monk.
There was a certain degree of immediate gratification felt once the beat kicked in, a rush in hearing all that textural depth come to life on massive club speakers. The softness in the layers of bells, the subtle ambient crackle whizzing overhead, the weight of the bass coursing through the room like a warm current: All that headphone minutia rendered faithfully. Even the sounds of water droplets seemed engulfed in atmosphere, as though they were pooling inside some sort of boundless marble hall.
After acclimating, the minimalism at play became more pronounced, and I found myself lost in the more drawn out, hypnotic qualities: The ebb and flow of glassy melodies, the ripples of static skipping over long, rolling tones. The urge to dance would come and go, as it did with most people there, but with all the space suggested sonically, I had more trouble resisting the urge to close my eyes and just run around, streaming my fingers through all the implied chimes. Unfortunately, due to the crowding, we were all relegated to a stiff concert bob at best.
The other setbacks were minor at best, but a couple were still worth noting. As much as it added to the overall mood, at some point the abundance of smoke also shifted to the point of distraction. I'm not too familiar with the finer points of industrial grade foggers, but if there was ever a time to turn the dial down a little and let it just seep out, it was surely then. Also, the "live" aspect of Weber's set left something to be desired. Granted, I wasn't expecting much, but when the fog did manage to dissidpate, all I could make out was a man hovering over his laptop and attending to his MIDI controllers rather stoically. Consequently, the decision to do an encore, while appreciated, seemed out of place given the lack of stage theatrics.
Once he finished, the crowd thinned out very quickly, revealing a handful of amped up party people. I stuck around more out of curiosity than anything: How would Dada Life build from this vibe into their normal routine? Residents JDH and Dave P took to the decks after Weber's set and did an admirable job of shifting the mood from heady to heavy during the half-hour in which they played. Still, once I heard giant hoovers come tearing out of the speakers and saw Dada Life headbanging along right out the gate, giddy with energy while grinning sheepishly, my initial confusion regarding the night was quickly reaffirmed. Not feeling the need to hug a speaker mid-week, I left soon after, cradling as many delicate moments as I could.