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It's strange how much a live performance can influence
the way a band's listeners perceive their music. It's
even stranger how little we notice it until a show almost
ruins it for us. As a big fan of The Juliana Theory,
a seemingly friendly small five-piece emo band from
Latrobe, Pennsylvania, I was excited when I heard they
were coming to San Francisco…and it wasn't just San
Francisco. It was Slims, the best venue in the Bay Area
- perfectly sized (small, but not too small), voted
best Bar/Club in San Francisco by the San Francisco
Chronicle and best nightclub in America for five of
the last eleven years by Pollstar - and they give you
free water! On top of the amazement of one of my favorite
bands at one of my favorite venues, I was anxious to
see them reflect the progression they had made from
their first and second releases (Understand This
Is A Dream in 1999 and Emotion Is Dead in
2000) to their latest EP, Music From Another Room.
I expected great things.
 Never
having seen them live before, I had my own preconceived
notions of how they should perform - as we all do prior
to a first show. I assumed I'd see a bunch of shaggy-haired
skinny boys hunched timidly over their guitars and mikes,
singing their emo songs with pre-rehearsed energy. There
ended up being more honest energy in the band than had
been expected (however, as usual, the crowd stood unenthusiastically,
tapping their chest with one hand and swaying their
shaggy black hair ever-so-slightly). Their set was a
great mix of all three albums; the crowd rallied for
the less mature, but nevertheless awesome Duane Joseph
from Understand This Is a Dream, and I was impressed
with Understand the Dream is Over from Emotion
is Dead - a perfect demonstration of their growth from
whining about girls in UTIAD to the poetic story telling
in true emo fashion of EID. Into the Dark was
the one song that fed Brett Detar, the lead singer,
exactly what he was hungry for: praise. Like most bands
do, they too "play off the audience, getting as much
a high off of them as they get off [the show]" as Chad
Alan, their bassist claims; but there's a definite line
between "playing off the audience" and getting downright
cocky from it. Generally, the majority of the band carried
through with the ideal I had created for them - however,
the Brett Detar proved otherwise.
Sure it's a given - we all know the importance of stage
presence: yeah Mick Jagger is huge because the Rolling
Stones rock, but much of their sell-out concerts has
to be attributed to his ability to rule the stage. That's
all fine and good, but Brett Detar is not Mick Jagger,
nor is Juliana Theory the Rolling Stones. But try telling
him that….I'm sure wouldn't want to be the one to burst
his bubble. He seems to truly believe that he is some
kind of prophetic rock star. Chad alleges "Mick Jagger
is the most pretentious frontman." And so it is true.
Funny these parallels drawn, isn't it? A friend warned
me before the show that Brett was "way rock star". I
tried to ignore this and wondered if maybe my quickly
agreeing opinion wasn't completely my own; but as the
show progressed and as I look back on it now, whether
I had been told that before hand or not, I would still
be completely annoyed with his false persona of 'cool'.
Set the scene: He enters the stage in true "emo rock
star" fashion - the band is on, leading the intro to
the first song. In his tight 70's jeans and button down
western shirt, he walks on slowly as the lights are
lifting, his back to the audience, keeping time with
his cowboy boots and his slim shaking ass, swinging
his hair and the microphone. (That mike came within
inches of hitting the person beside me.) Finally, he
turns around and replaces the mike in the stand and
caresses it like his girlfriend, screaming frustratedly
into a mike that's not even on (which although not his
fault, certainly didn't help matters at all). Then,
as if he's so hot from one short song, he pours
an entire bottle of water over his head, flinging the
excess of it from his hair into the audience. After
the second song, he comments on the ambiance of the
crowd. "You're so quiet. You all seem mesmerized. …
well, of course you're mesmerized, we are THE JULIANA
THEORY!" he deducts. Yeah, maybe true. Or maybe it's
because you're playing to a crowd of 300 people, half
of which are screaming 12 year olds in love with your
body. I don't know. Maybe that's just my conclusion
that I've come to completely inaccurately, even though
when I looked to my left and right, all there was were
girls with shirts exclaiming "I Love TJT" and pins on
their backpacks claiming "Girls love The Juliana Theory".
He must have failed to notice that it wasn't so much
mesmeration as much as it was pure annoyance with his
attitude. At the end of the third song (well, every
other song, really…) he stood on stage, head facing
up, arms spread - imitating either a super hero, or
Christ - which one, I have yet to figure out; but there
didn't seem to be a cape attached to his back, so it
must be Christ.
In response to comments on the haughtiness of the performance,
Chad viewed it in two ways: 1. "People can easily construe
Brett's performance in that way. He's big, he's 6'3".
He's going to have a commanding presence." (Yeah, I'm
sure it's his height that forces him to dance around
like Mick Jagger, pouring water on his head) and 2.
"The emphasis people put on the performance is huge,
especially in this scene we've been thrown into where
the show is supposed to fit into a pigeon hole." Too
bad you've chosen to throw yourselves into that scene
by playing out that pigeon-holed format to it's fullest
extent). So, no - these excuses just don't seem to accurately
assess why Brett finds it necessary to stand in the
middle of the stage, arms spread like a Christ figure,
pretending to be the visionary rock star he isn't.
So, sure they've been hailed as "the next big thing"
in numerous reviews, and sure they are…by all means,
don't get me wrong on this: The Juliana Theory is one
of the best emo bands on the scene; if you haven't already,
get your hands on one or all of their albums immediately
- but if you're hoping for an intimate, honest show
of emotion, don't see them live. If you're hoping for
a band's desperate attempt to define themselves by the
scenester confines of a pretentious genre, then this
is your show. Maybe it is true what their bassist says
- "fans base too much on a live performance when what
it's really about is the music." But the fact remains
that a pompous and exaggerated frontman can ruin it
all. So as soon as Brett Detar either a) grows up beyond
his showy and fake rock star persona or b) realizes
he's Brett Detar playing Slim's, not Mick Jagger playing
the Hollywood Bowl, then I will be the first in line
to buy tickets, and would suggest you do the same.
Allyson Beth for Crud Magazine© 2002
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