Thursday night I arrived at the Paradise and within ten seconds of the opening music ("Come on, get happy…") I remembered all at once and without question why Jump, Little Children is my favorite band in the world. And why Thursday night's show left any other show of the past six months looking like water biscuits to Jump's red velvet chocolate cake.
The joy of seeing that band live is inexplicable. The music washed over me like sunshine and I had the perma-grin known only to those who can get certifiably stoned on sound.
Apparently they're either making more money or are getting more important because it was the first Jump show I've ever been to where they didn't set up their own equipment. Bassist Jonny was running around a bit after tuning his upright, but none of the other members were in evidence. Which made a nice surprise when they all pranced out together to the new theme song.
When they opened for Howie Day a few weeks ago, I was so unthrilled. And I knew at the time one of the main factors of that tepid performance was that they were not headlining, and that Lupo's is not the clean and sprawling stage of the Paradise. Seeing them open for Howie Day was gross. It made me feel yucky. It was like watching a star employee have to interview for their own job. With thirty minutes end to end, there's not much you can say that's not already on your resume. They played damn near a two hour set Thursday night, and then came back for two encores.
I will get this shallow and juvenile part out of the way: when they came out on stage in their usual goofy assemblance of brotherly love and childlike excitement at the crowd, I screamed like a thirteen-year-old at a New Kids on the Block concert because -- I've said this before and I'll say it again -- Matt Bivins is the Sexiest Creature Ever to Walk the Earth. I seriously gave this topic some thought. I couldn't come up with one single person to compete. Not a one. And he strutted out with his satin disco shirt and translucent eyes rimmed with black liner and I tore off my clothes and threw myself writhing at his feet.
And Jay Clifford slays me. His vocal range is inhuman, and it sounds like buttered toffee strung in slim ribbons. I could actually hear his brilliant lyrics as well on Thursday, even over the enormous crunchy guitar. And who could help but smile watching Jonny play upright bass? His feet are in the air more than they're on the stage, and he spins around that thing like he has wings.
The Paradise was packed, and I noticed at a few key points during the show that everyone there was a die-hard fan, because they all knew the silly inside jokes and crowd reactions. Those inside jokes, the rituals, are what make going to a Jump show feel like coming home. They are like family. "My Guitar" is one of my favorite examples of their ongoing traditions. The deal with the song is that the beginning of it has an ultra-80's rock guitar solo. Jay and Ward play the solo together in harmonizing parts. And then they both play Jay's guitar at the same time. And then they finish separately.
The antics draw a huge crowd response, and they started making the production bigger and bigger. It became a guitar duel during which they tried to out-solo each other. Ward would break into "Enter Sandman" by Metallica. Evan Bivins would provide the drama-building drums in between solos as Ward and Jay went back and forth. It was a climactic portion of the show, just add overdone fog machine. To make it more and more interesting, they traded in their guitars for dueling cell phones, with the dramatic pitch just as high. Ward played "Enter Sandman" on his keypad, and Jay accidentally called his voice mail. Finally they'd start the song: "I'd like to see you out some night, dressed up like a rock and roll star…"
Ward, by the way, alternates between classically-trained cello with flange and death metal on a Flying V guitar. Then Matt takes center stage for his sweat-sexy-jaw-dropping spoken word, where he makes love to the mic stand. Everyone screams. Not just me. I swear.
Matt, by the way, alternates between accordion, mandolin, harmonica, tin whistle. He also has a miniature hot pink guitar, which he plays slung enticingly low.
One of my fondest Jump memories is when Jay, Ward, and Jonny sang the National Anthem in three-part harmony at Fenway park. There was a listserv at the time connecting all the fans across the country -- "Opium" -- and most of the people on the mailing list were from down South. This was the one time something Jump-related happened in Boston, and all the kids on Opium were begging us for details. Many of them posted their phone numbers. I snuck out of work and went down to Fenway Park. Standing outside the park, the sound of them singing was enormous. And when I looked down the street, there were all these Jump fans holding up their cell phones for the folks on Opium to hear them sing. It brought tears to my eyes.
The kicker with Jump is that they do all these fun outlandish acts on stage, but they're also playing their most serious and heart-wrenching songs, going between the two seamlessly, with Jay's excruciatingly beautiful voice carrying both. At the Paradise Thursday, they played about six or seven new songs (new being not on Vertigo), and the songwriting is getting more and more complex. Jay's always using odd tunings and chord changes, and the songs are growing into a sound that is absolutely his own.
Jay played a solo show at House of Blues in Cambridge over the summer. I was stunned and in disbelief when I read that he was booked there alone, but he actually did play acoustic and by himself. I waited with butterflies in the stomach for weeks. It was incredible to hear his voice in that venue with barely any music along with it. The performance was wholly intimate; he didn't have a set list -- he just asked people to yell out songs they wanted to hear. When he broke a string, he asked if anyone in the audience knew how to string a guitar and handed it over to some guy who couldn't stop smiling and looked a little nervous sitting on stage behind Jay fumbling with the string.
I expected the show to be a lot more dramatic than it was -- ultimately it was sitting in Jay's livingroom listening to him casually mess around with some songs. Which felt... weird. I enjoyed hearing "Darkest Love," which is my favorite of their new songs, and thought it was ingenious for him to bring beats on audio tape which he played in a little radio-shack tape player on the stool next to him.
If you guys get the chance to see Jump live, you have to go. It's in your own best interest. I'm only telling you this because I'm your friend.
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