The release of French rock band Phoenix’s 2006 album It’s Never
Been Like That caused an obsession to sweep across my group of
friends like a contagion. A few of us had been fans nearly from the
start—Phoenix’s 2000 single “Too Young” made us early
believers—but It’s Never Been Like That had a
unifying quality to it that seemed to make everyone in the room feel a
little brighter whenever it was playing. Over the summer, we played
that record into the ground. It was a mandatory soundtrack to every
barbecue and house party, and somehow it seemed to never wear out its
welcome.
When Phoenix (Laurent “Branco” Brancowitz, Thomas Mars, Deck D’Arcy,
and Christian Mazzalai) came through on tour to support It’s Never
Been Like That, they played the Crocodile, and we all got tickets.
We stood up front and chanted along, dancing, smiling, and swaying in
unison. Onstage, the band breathed a sleek and exotic air into their
songs, with each instrument adding intricate visceral layers of sound
to create a fully realized string of pop gems. It may have been just
another rock concert, but it felt like a taste of a singular foreign
delicacy.
As years passed, we waited patiently for a new album, and when it
came, we were overjoyed. Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix was a pop
masterpiece, meticulously crafted and sparkling from start to finish.
But then it started happening, like we all knew it would: Everybody
else heard the record and loved it, too. Pitchfork raved about it,
calling Phoenix “a bona fide ‘should be bigger’ band.” Their songs
began popping up in Cadillac commercials and on Entourage.
They played every late-night TV show in America. Seattle’s 107.7 The
End started airing their single regularly, an act that has historically
signaled the end of everything that was once good and pure in a band’s
music.
This week, Phoenix return to Seattle to perform at The End’s annual
Deck the Hall Ball, held in the massive cement tomb known as WaMu
Theater. As a longtime fan of the band and a realist, I’m not surprised
at all that Phoenix have become so popular. It is surprising,
however, to band guitarist Laurent “Branco” Brancowitz.
“Actually, we thought that this album was going to appeal only to
connoisseurs, to music lovers,” says Branco. “We did this album with
this in mind, the fact that with the internet, we could reach the few
people who would love this kind of music. We never imagined it would go
beyond a close, small circle. It’s really great what’s happening with
the album, because it was done with very pure intentions.”
For nearly a decade, Phoenix have been playing moderate-sized clubs
around the world. Their current tour is a series of major radio holiday
concerts in music halls and arenas across the U.S. “We are just
discovering this world,” says Branco. “We’ve played big venues, but
never stadiums. We are not really a stadium band.”
Though Phoenix’s members are used to smaller settings, they’re not
worried about losing a sense of intimacy with the crowd while
performing on such big stages. “It’s a different kind of energy when
you are playing in front of a bunch of people,” says Branco. “But we’ve
played in a lot of festivals—it’s just a different mode. There is
something great about the power you can conjure on a big stage, but we
love both kinds of shows. We will be very excited to play in small
clubs in the near future. It’s great being in a band where we can have
that kind of contrast. We always end up in a very small club with a
very small stage, and it’s really cool. We love that.”
None of my friends are going to go see Phoenix open for 30 Seconds
to Mars. That is not where Phoenix belong, but you can’t really blame
them for being there. Thankfully, the band isn’t too interested in
following the arena-rock route much further. It would seem they have
little aspiration to become an international pop juggernaut.
“We are very happy with this amount of fame… a very modest
amount,” says Branco. “Actually, we never really think about that.
What’s good is to have a level where when you make an artistic move, it
has an effect on people. That is the only level we want to have, where
people listen to what we are trying to say.” 
I simply don’t get the appeal. 1901 sounds like a Target commercial to me. Everyone but critics (and I must assume long time fans) that I’ve heard raving about Phoenix mentions the fact that they and Air are both from Versailles…Which clearly has nothing to do with how good they are.
Your review seems to have the right amount of positivity AND cynicism. Care to dig a little deeper?
Why do hipsters always bitch and moan when a band they like becomes popular? Is your sense of self really so fragile that you can only allow yourself to enjoy music that nobody else likes? The music is just as good as it was two years ago, and if the fact that people you look down on like it too ruins it for you then you’re only denying yourself something that would otherwise have brought you pleasure. It sounds like the band is able to act like adults about this – you should learn to do the same.
Ditto @1. It’s actually really nice to read that their intentions were to make music true to themselves, undiluted by commercial expectations (no, I’m not being cynical). But that doesn’t make it any less bland.
“I am cooler than other people because I knew about Phoenix before they were popular. Phoenix is still good, but it’s too bad that other people also enjoy their music now, because mainstream things are automatically not as good as unknown, indie things. I hope that they don’t get more popular, but even if they do, I will continue reminding people that I knew about this band before they did. Also, I have a lot of friends who are just as hip and trendy as I am.”
–Jeff Kirby
In retrospect, I realize that I sound kind of like a douchebag with my earlier comment. I get that a lot of good music just doesn’t fit in huge arenas, and that seeing a good song in a completely inappropriate context (like a car commercial) can diminish it. I just think that the band makes a really good point when they say that both kinds of venues have value, and I’m glad that they’re gettin paid. If you refuse to see a band you love just because you don’t like the venue, you’re just denying yourself what could be a great experience.
@4– Perfect assessment. The only problem with Jeff Kirby is that he is too indie to see that indie is already a commodity especially popular with pre-teens, tweens, and young adults with Peter Pan complexes. Cut your hair Kirby. And stop reminding everyone that you knew about Phoenix before they rose from the ashes of your mediocrity…
Are we still on for New Years?
It’s strange that you can’t point out that you’ve enjoyed a band for a number of years without it coming off like you’re trying to rub everybody else’s faces in it. That definitely wasn’t my intention; the point of this article wasn’t to convince anyone that I or my friends are cooler than anyone else. It’s become something of a cliché, as pointed out in comment 2, that “hipsters” complain when a band they like goes big, but there is always truth in it sucking, whether it be a band or a restaurant or anything that suddenly becomes appropriated by large numbers of people. When you are given the chance to appreciate something on your own terms for years, like getting to stand up close with all your friends to see your favorite band at an intimate venue, there is a minor sting when you realize you can’t have that anymore, and I was trying to convey that sting without sounding like a cool-kid whiner. I have no problem that so many people enjoy Phoenix’s music now. Everybody wins. The fact they have become wildly popular does not change the fact that their record is still my favorite of the year, but it does make a difference in how and where I am willing to invest my time and money seeing them perform. There are a lot of intricacies to Phoenix’s music, and there was a lot of crowd interaction at the last club show. Their return to Seattle is in a giant venue with bad sound full of people who are not there to see their band, but rather the arena rock bands that are headlining. This is the downside of a band becoming huge. In this situation, Phoenix has become part of a commodity: the reason they are there at all is because Deck the Hall Ball’s demographic might recognize their “Target commercial” single from corporate radio or television, not necessarily because Phoenix are a great band that puts on a great show. Though they are playing to a large crowd, most of that large crowd probably won’t give a shit about them. In my opinion, Phoenix is simply not the type of band that fit this bill, so I took the opportunity to ask them myself how they felt about the situation. They were humble and appreciative, and reinforced that they will ride this wave while they can, but have no intentions of following the corporate arena rock path. Phoenix has been one of my favorite bands for years, trying to express that honestly was never an attempt to jockey for cool points, it’s just the way it is. I knew that there were plenty of other people (enough to fill the Crocodile, at least) that have loved this band for a while who were thinking, “Deck the Hall Ball? 30 Seconds to Mars? WTF???” I figured they would enjoy hearing what the band had to say about their current rise of popularity.
I knew your friends in 2000 and they weren’t that cool.
Great job Jeff. I check in on the Stranger time to time and when I see your byline it’s a great feelin. Keep it up and your picture will be next to John Olerud’s at Interlake.