Portugal. The Man plays the shadows at The Hi-Dive.
Thankfully, when Portugal. The Man rolls back through Colorado in October, they will play two back-to-back shows in Boulder.
After a sold-out show at The Hi-Dive on Aug. 14, the Alaskan rockers whose popularity has exploded in recent months made it clear that either a larger venue or a couple of nights at one place has become necessary.
Clad in sleeveless top and flared slacks, with a tattooed shoulder facing the tightly packed crowd, John Gourley bent over his Gretsch and thrashed his shaggy hair and beard in tempo as bassist Zachary Carothers, wearing equally flashy 70s attire, knocked out bouncing rhythms on the strings with steady pedal pushing and Ryan Neighbors and Jason Sechrist beat on keys and skins like the noise they produced was holding the walls together.
They fired off just about the entirety of their largely acclaimed recent record The Satanic Satanist and a handful of favorites from the three previous records. At one point the boys put down their instruments to roaring chants of “one more song” and glanced bashfully out at the audience while eyeballing the area for a place to hang out at the back of the stage. But no … this is the Hi-Dive we’re talking about. Glorious rectangular cave that it is. For the band it meant a jump down among the crowd and a skip out the door for a breath of fresh air, then back up for three more ripping tunes … including Censored Colors’ catchy and high-note rich “1989.”
P.TM's custom lights flashed red to all the stomping and occasionally featured colorful disco sprays across the band and audience and there was never a moment in the shoulder-to-shoulder rock commune when there wasn’t a stream of sweat running into my socks. It was everything that rock n roll should be.
It was just over way too fast. Damn those 16-and-over gigs.
Portugal. The Man will be nearby again following a month of West Coast touring. They play Boulder’s B-Side Lounge Oct. 2 and 3. Get your tickets early or you may be among those to walk away from a pair of sold-out gigs with your Missing Out Complex stabbing painfully at your gut.