Bonobo @ The Ogden Theater

Going to see DJs perform at a concert venue is a confusing concept. I'm never sure if you are supposed to dance or simply stand still and watch them press buttons on their computer. Fortunately, London trip-hop group Bonobo had an array of instruments to occupy the stage and distract a little from the DJ.

The central focus of the stage was an elevated platform with main DJ Simon Green and his computer. Despite his position on stage, he had no intention of being the center of attention. 

Scattered in front of and around the DJ were his three bandmates with a saxophone, a clarinet, a drum set, a piano, and a bass guitar.

The drummer and pianist stayed on their instruments for the majority of the concert. It was the third that juggled, playing the rest of the instruments. That was, until the DJ decided that he was going to pick up the bass guitar while some guy from the back took over his computer duties. It was all very confusing.

Andreya Triana, a new voice from London, was a guest singer for a few refreshing songs. Her powerful, raspy voice was not what I expected to hear out of a young girl wearing a jumpsuit. The strength and power in her voice could be found somewhere between Aretha Franklin and Beyoncé.

In its entirety, Bonobo's music was a nice blend of tropical and exotic sounds with a smooth but slow bass beat. It sounded like if Moby and Beirut's love child traveled back in time and went through a serious 90's jazz phase. Although it sounds like an odd combination, it was still surprisingly pleasing. I found myself irresistibly bouncing my head to the beat.

My subtle movements were nothing compared to the drugged-out teenagers next to me. They were decorated in glow sticks and performing inebriated light shows for each other.

I completely understand why people would decide to be intoxicated for this show. The songs were melodically repetitive and totally trippy. It would be entertaining if you were on something. Unfortunately, sober, it felt more like background music than anything.

An older man was floating around the din with his arms crossed. He stopped to ask me how old I was. My hands were clearly marked with underage "Xs" but I answered anyway. "I think I'm too old to be here," he grumbled as he squinted to make out the stage behind the clouds of smoke.

If you're not a drugged-out teenager, seeing Bonobo live should probably not be on your agenda. Maybe instead, you could catch a late night showing of Greenberg and skip all the awkward squinting.