We’ve got a fancy FILTER friend who keeps her finger on the pulse of the coolest haps, including what’s brewing in the music scene, at all times…Lauren Lomma, maybe you’ve heard of her? If you haven’t, you should try and follow her on twitter @lomfry3 (if she’ll accept your request) because she is hilarious and she knows what’s what.
The humidity plaguing the streets of New York was nothing in comparison to the heat being generated inside the Bowery Ballroom on this particular Thursday night. Bodies bounced against each other, everyone danced in excitement as Holy Ghost! belted out some delicious tunes. The Passion Pit-esque quality of their beats was a welcome change to the classic DJ sets they usually dole out. The crowd bopped their heads and moved their bodies in approval, though they were all really waiting in anticipation for the headliner: Chromeo. Unbeknownst to the fans who pummeled their way to the foot of the stage, Dave 1 and P-Thugg were saddled up in the back near the bar. Dave 1 nodding to the beat, clad in all white with some sort of retro/hipster Jew-fro hybrid atop his head. P-Thugg, however, talked it up to a sassy brunette chick, only exiting after finally catching her digits.
The lights glared on, and the classic intro of “Chro-me-o. Oooh! Oh!” blasted through the speakers; the crowd was instantly electrified. The duo came to the stage, Dave 1 donning a pair of classic wayfarers to shield himself from the glaring lights. They opened with a song from their soon-to-be released album, “Business Casual”, and throughout the night they alternated from promising new songs to reliable super-jams off their previous albums. The Hall & Oates of the electro era managed to excite the masses with classic hits such as “Fancy Footwork” and “Bonafied Lovin’”, as well as a Dire Straits cover, “Money For Nothing.” Rocking out under the hot lights of the stage these two are the super-hip electrofunk geniuses known as Chromeo, where as moments earlier they were merely David and Patrick of Montreal: just a couple of hipsters admiring another fellow musician, being oh-so cool sipping on their cheap beers and lavishing in the advances of the ladies. One ridiculously amazing set and an encore of “Momma’s Boy” later, and every New Yorker in the place was dripping in sweat, grinning from ear-to-ear, and running home to scoop up tickets to whatever Chromeo show they could hit up next.