THIS BAND IS MY BAND

By: B

If Iffy wasn't such a great band, my car wouldn't have gotten towed Saturday night. Hear me out; this is true.

I unknowingly parked illegally before the Iffy show. There were many cars parked and others waiting, so I assumed luck was to credit for the sweet spot. When I returned after the show, sweaty and euphoric, my car had vanished. The policeman nearby alerted me that my car had been towed. He explained that he understood that the No Parking sign was mostly hidden and admitted they don't usually tow cars. The norm is to venture inside the nearby bars and request the bouncer to make a simple warning announcement. But since this was a big concert, since the show was packed, the idea of interrupting it seemed unnecessary. Off went my car. On went the show. Iffy deservedly ranks far above B on the nightlife totem pole.

But you aren't here for sob stories. You want to hear about the show!

Iffy is a local Minneapolis band that sounds like a hybrid of Beck and Prince, but with groovier samples, harder drums and more imaginative lyrics. Kirk Johnson (formerly of Run Westy Run) is the lead singer, brother Kraig Johnson (from many other bands) plays guitar, Tom Merkl plays bass and Peter Anderson is on drums. They are the best local band around, and their live shows are becoming legendary.

At the 400 Bar on the West Bank of the university campus, Iffy lived up to their reputation. Both Friday and Saturday shows were high-energy and powerful, with Iffy playing every track off their debut album Biota Bondo and introducing half a dozen new songs.

The Saturday night show began with “Hijacked Nation,” a new track light on the vocals but with quick pacing and pounding drums. This is the their closest song to straight-up rock n' roll. There are no verses, making it seem like an up-tempo warm-up for the show, and could be the first track on the upcoming album. Another new song, played soon after “Nation,” is called “Doin' My Love,” which sounds like the rebirth of Al Green with added electronic elements. Smooth and clean, it is an uplifting ode to the fathers of funk.

The best of the new songs was the infectious “Long Cold Shot,” written by and starring drummer Peter Anderson. Shot is a fast rocker with less of said sampling. Still, the formula is familiar; Kirk Johnson half singing/half speaking the verses out the side of his mouth while the instruments wait in the backdrop, followed by an explosion of a chorus. The sound is all Iffy, with the element combinations much more evident than the showing-off of any particular instrument or sound.

Like every other show witnessed by B, the best song of the night was “Joyrider,” an absolute masterpiece. The song starts out relatively quiet, but adds layers throughout the song. The lyrics are great, with the best line “What I got, you can hang on a nail/ Just a freak living a fairy tale.” A woman belting out “Joyrider” via recording, with Johnson ad-libbing more vocals, sings the chorus. Anderson and guitarist Johnson play to frenzy while the layers keep building and growing. It's loud, fast, busy and jubilant, and there is no better song to hear live. Anywhere.

The encore featured Iffy's mini-hit single “Double Dutch,” a fun candy-coated pop song with a recording of children singing the chorus. “Don't Tell Me,” followed, was familiar Iffy work, but like other new songs had a Motown feel to it. Funky and dance-worthy, the sound is consistent with Biota Bondo.

The final song from the first encore, “Shimba” diverged from the norm; a slow, building track, this is the band's “Freebird.” The verses flow slowly, the chorus fading in and out, with little or no attention warranted from the instruments. Lead singer Johnson's voice carries most of the track, but like all ballads, the slow build erupts in the final act. A perfect end, this will hopefully be the band's closer when they begin touring again.

Much of the credit for the live shows can be given to the nature of the music. Iffy is heavy on sampling and recordings, and every added live layer is tight and rehearsed. The anti-jam band, Iffy exonerates power and funk. You don't have to dance, but you'll want to. Take the bass line of “Billie Jean”, add the lyrical pace of “Brown Sugar” and throw in the electronic foundation and you may be on the right track. Iffy is here to remind Minnesota that dancing at concerts is acceptable. Screw dance clubs.

Walking to the parking lot, to a car that wasn't there, I felt an exhilarated happiness. Iffy is the musical representation of painkillers. Their music gets inside of you, lets you know that everything is going to be fine. I often get the feeling that Iffy was formed to make me, and only me, happy.

The bass from “Joyrider” was still pumping through my veins when I found out why my car had been towed. I whined and complained, tried to convince a cop to write a note allowing my car to be released from the tow lot for free. I leaned my head against the window during the long cab ride home, closed my eyes and smiled. I had the set list in my hand and tried to make a mental list of my favorite of the new songs. There was a struggle inside my brain, one half playing the air guitar, pumping Iffy at an after-party and smiling like a goon. The other half was sitting at a desk, wearing a worried look while going over expenses, trying to win the battle of the moods. Money is supposed to mean more.

All told, my Saturday night with Iffy ended up costing about $250. Do you want to hear a secret? It was still worth it.

POP RATING: 10

CRITICAL RATING: 8.5

B'S RATING: 9.5

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