Cake always had their own unique lane, even in the wildly weird days of 90’s alternative music. Fronted by deadpan singer/songwriter John McCrea, the group took what could easily have been novelty songs and turned them into endearing classics by finding the heart in the storytelling, and crafting a sound that incorporated country, mariachi, and a range of other influences into their alt rock gems.
Following their string of hit songs and albums in the nineties and early aughts, the band’s output became infrequent, with their last album being 2011’s Showroom of Compassion, and aside from a stand-alone single in 2018, the group hasn’t released music or toured much in the last five years. Thankfully the Cake drought finally ended this year, and the group brought an evening of music to The Greek last Wednesday night.
That’s right – an entire evening of Cake. No openers. After a long piece of intro music, the group came out and went right into “Frank Sinatra”. The band sounded as crispy and in tune as they do on record. As I listened, I found myself having trouble compromising the vision I had in my head of the enigmatic group and the human beings on stage. Hearing their songs on the radio growing up, McCrea’s almost robotic delivery and unique lyrics in songs like “The Distance” made me think he would look like some German industrial, post-punk android, as opposed to the down-to-earth tree enthusiast telling stories and singing songs about car safety belts that was in front of me.
McCrea has always been a storyteller, both in songs (like third track that evening “Opera Singer”) and as I learned that night, as an onstage performer, though he seemed hesitant to work this muscle. Following the great “Long Time” and crowd favorite “Stickshifts and Safety Belts”, McCrea began to introduce “Meanwhile Rick James…” by talking about how the late James confronted him about the song once. It was then only at the audience’s coaxing that he went into more depth about what words were exchanged between the two, and what the meaning of the pop-leaning tune was.
The group closed out the first half of their set with a big crowd sing-along of “Satan is My Motor”, which was especially welcomed by one quirky audience member in a onesie and demon horns. As Cake broke for an intermission, I was able to study the audience as I ventured towards the restroom; quite the eclectic crowd. Punks, hippies, jam band types, young nerds, older bros…there is clearly no clear audience that is drawn to these nineties vets.
Following the intermission, McCrea held a tree giveaway. That’s right – after testing the audience to see who could identify the baby sapling he had on stage, he chose a member of the audience to give the tree to. The winner is required to plant the tree, and take a photo of themselves with it that posts to Cake‘s website. They are then encouraged to take photos as the years go on and as the tree grows. I loved this aspect of both community-building and eco-friendly passion the band promotes.
McCrea was brought his guitar (during the first half of the show, there seemed to be some issues with it, leading him to move around the setlist). The show continued with “Love You Madly” and “Haze of Love”, returning the fun vibes. While Cake‘s trumpeter provided some beautiful solos throughout the evening, it was the lead guitarist who made me realize Cake had some country-leanings in their music (outside of the Willie Nelson cover played earlier that night). Another sign of how truly unique the group is.
For “Sick of You”, McCrea divided the audience, having part of it singing the “I want to fly away”, while the other did “I’m so sick of you”, creating an impressive round. The hits kept coming as we entered the homestretch, with “Never There”, a funky “Short Skirt/Long Jacket” which had folks dancing, and “The Distance” remaining one of the stars of alternative music. The group of course returned for an encore after leaving the stage, embracing the “Rock n’ Roll Lifestyle”, and then going into their iconic take on “I Will Survive”. The band has certainly survived, and continue to thrive in their own way.
The Indy Review 