I thought it was a kind gesture when a friend of mine unexpectedly gave me his Animal Collective tickets, opting instead to see Juelz Santana light up Plush the same night. It was probably a wise decision on his part. Although stirring at its best moments, the show was little more than repetitive and obscure. The first AC booking at Richards on March 2nd had sold out so quickly the promoters wisely packed up the art-gypsy caravan and hauled it up the street to the more spacious Commodore for a March 1st show date. A lot of people don't really feature the Commodore but I frankly don't mind it. It's slick and shiny and large enough to get that taste of anonymity in a city that rarely affords you the chance (Vancouver is not really a City; it's a bunch of different communities that all share members). This night however, the Commodore's loveless, sterile vibe just wasn't appropriate. I've been told AC needs to be seen in a smaller club where they shine and create rich bonds of sonic love with their audience. It only makes sense; their earthy, pulsing, tribal reverberations would probably be a lot more charming in a more intimate space, one with fewer bodies and less bars (yes, there's four).

Of course, final blame for a mediocre performance cannot be placed solely on a venue. It's just a bunch of walls, and besides, the Commodore has brilliant acoustics. The bulk of the AC set was new material which sounded more like the skeletal beginnings of tracks than actual completed songs. A lot of tedious loops textured with the occasional guitar delay toss-in and some enthusiastic drumming. Though at first lulling and mesmerizing, the sound ultimately overstayed its welcome and I caught sight of a lot of people deeking out prematurely. For my part, the only real highlights were "Banshee Beat" and "The Purple Bottle", the respective opener and closer.

Though both opening acts (BARR: annoying Californian motivational speaker for troubled scenesters, and First Nation - all girl minimalist-psyche) were appallingly bad and AC was basically shitty, I still left with a reluctantly warm glow. It just couldn't be helped, they create very appealing tones and although the move to the Commodore may have robbed them of a more affectionate presence there were moments in their set when they totally had me. My girlfriend summed it up best an hour into their set: "I wish I was listening to this in bed." Unless Animal Collective plays their next show in my bedroom and won't consider it rude if I fall asleep, I probably won't bother seeing them again. Thanks for nothin' Owchar.