Øye Øye!

Whitest Boy Alive
04/12/09 @ La Cigale, Paris

Whitest Boy Alive are one of those rare acts who completely embrace the philosophy “less is more”.

In the past two years they have only performed live 12 times, leaving their growing legions of fans parched of the opportunity to witness them personally.

Hence, the anticipation outside La Cigale is tangible.

Distraught individuals rush to and fro, trying to purchase spare tickets from the opportunistic touts. The lucky chosen few queue with grins and the occasional drone of somebody humming the bass intro to ‘Keep A Secret’ can be heard over the din.

La Cigale is an exquisitely intimate venue. It’s the perfect combination of opulence and chic, with a balcony for seating that overlooks the main floor area and the slightly raised stage. There aren’t any bums on chairs though once the gig commences.

The aforementioned humming strikes up again, this time emanating from the cool as fuck bass of Marcin Oz. A warm applause begins to blanket La Cigale as Erlend Øye questions his gathered admirers.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Honestly? No,” is the reply.

So great is the affection that Whitest Boy Alive’s fans have for the band that it’s difficult for them to stop chunnering on about just how good they are.

The band proceeded to gracefully swagger through their already cult back-catalogue, causing beautifully adorned Parisians to dance and sway to the likes of ‘Golden Cage’, ‘High On The Heels’ and ‘1517’.

The habitual cover version is included, with Erlend and co this time choosing to give Armand Van Helden’s ‘U Don’t Know Me’ their unique treatment, bringing familial smiles from the crowd.

During ‘Courage’, one lucky attendee manages to make it onto the stage. Unshakeably cool, Whitest Boy Alive continue to play whilst this euphoric individual struts his stuff, probably experiencing the most epic moment of his life. It’s even capped off with a stage dive cum crowd surf.

All the while the rest of the audience, without provocation, claps along in unison to the beat. That’s how cool Parisians are. They don’t just clap along aimlessly to a song like some Stella toting yob would at The Apollo, they keep with the beat; all 1,300 who’re in attendance at the gig. It’s remarkable.

‘Don’t Give Up’ is a touching song on wax but in concert it is given even more acumen and ends up coming off as quite inspirational.

‘Above You’ sounds amazing, with the R2-D2 like synth actually being played live as opposed to being reconstructed by some infernal contraption.

The set closes on ‘Island’, exhibiting the habitual WBA showmanship. During the build up to the song’s crescendo, Øye and them completely freeze where they’re stood, whilst the feedback from his guitar slices through the audience.

The “whoops” and clapping rise fiercely to counter the feedback and after what seems like an age, the band launch right into the shape inducing finish to the song.

The lights go down and the appreciation goes up. Paris and her natives are notoriously difficult to please, yet I think a pasty, humble Norwegian and his friends have left a sweet taste in the mouths of those in attendance. One only hopes that the frantic fans who were pursuing tickets outside managed to get their mitts on one.