Around Town: Lebanon on the Vltava

The average August temperature in Lebanon is 90 degrees Fahrenheit, with a relative humidity of 60 percent - numbers that add up to a high degree of discomfort.

Attendees of the sold-out Beirut show at Kulturní centrum Vltavská got an unexpected taste of Middle Eastern weather Aug. 15, as temperatures inside the auditorium soared to staggering levels before the band even took the stage.  

Fans were reduced to peeling off soaked shirts and jackets and fanning themselves with ticket stubs as they waited uncomfortably for the seven-piece brass-pop band to play. A young boy was seen shirtless, clinging to the shoulders of his father and whimpering like a dehydrated albino ape.

The band opened with "Nantes," which was met by deafening decibels of rapturous applause. Band leader Zach Condon, playing the flugelhorn and ukulele, was joined by accordion, upright bass and drums, as well as trombone, trumpet, tuba and upright piano, the last lending a distinguished air to familiar Beirut arrangements.

As the band progressed through their set and the dew point peaked, one felt by turns as if the auditorium had been transformed into a Serbian wedding reception, a Mexican funeral or the World Sauna Championship. The band seemed acutely aware of the heat, wringing their fingers on black towels between each song lest they lose grip of their instruments.

"We were just talking backstage, because that's what you do back there. We've decided this is officially the hottest show we've ever played," the bass player announced.

Besides familiar material from their three studio albums, the band debuted a new song led by a straight-ahead piano chord progression more reminiscent of 1960s Detroit than the Balkan brass and Mexican dirges Beirut has previously explored.

"I've been listening to a lot of Motown lately," Condon admitted.

The band's performance was superb: perfect three-part vocal and brass harmonies in every song, and a no-nonsense onstage chemistry. They played nonstop for more than an hour, keeping in-jokes and idle chatter to a pleasing minimum, and punctuating the silence between songs with little more than the occasional humble "Thank you so much." Condon gave the obligatory "Děkuji," spoke a few Russian incomprehensibles and even exchanged pleasantries with a Spanish-speaking fan - in Spanish - who claimed to have come from Mexico.

The only downside of the show was Kulturní centrum Vltavská. It was a rare case of complete venue failure. The cloud of sweat fog that hovered for the entirety of the band's performance, coupled with the condensed perspiration dripping from the ceiling, was nightmarish, but no surprise given the only ventilation came from the bells of Beirut's brass instruments.

Two songs into the band's encore, a stagehand rushed to Condon, whispered in his ear and spoke into the microphone.

"I'll speak slowly, and someone translate. There's a water leak back here, and it's very close to the amplifiers and electricity. I've got to stop the show because I don't want these guys to get electrocuted," he announced.

The message was translated a moment later, causing a groan through the audience, and general movement toward the doors. Inexplicably, however, the management decided to force the audience through only one of several exits, causing a post-show body jam of sweaty stairwell claustrophobia.

But even the venue's shortcomings and a walk home through hailing thunderstorms could not tarnish a stellar performance by Condon and Beirut.

Stephan Delbos can be reached at
sdelbos@praguepost.com