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To celebrate the release of their fourth album last year, experimental art-rock mavens Liars set out on the road as an opener for Interpol—a peculiar bill that seemed to confound some of Interpol’s fans. Now Liars are back on the road as headliners—and, to their considerable credit, are still alienating a few showgoers with their sonic shenanigans.

The sound board in the center of the floor at the El Rey served as a Mason-Dixon line. Up front were the Liars maniacs who moshed around to the band’s primal percussion and shrieked and droned along with Angus Andrew, as Liars hit upon many of the standouts in their increasingly impressive catalog. Behind the board were the people who had seemingly been lured by the press, or dragged by a significant other. Hipsters typically have good taste, but they also tend to gravitate toward universally appealing, fairly innocuous acts and unnecessarily over-hyped acts—Vampire Weekend being just one recent example up for debate. Liars, on the other hand, are hipster-endorsed but polarizing, abrasive and unpredictable—and they are even less accessible in concert than on record.

Regardless, they continue to draw bigger crowds—and the corresponding venue size poses a challenge. The bigger stages demand more showmanship; fortunately, Liars have that base covered. It’s fun to watch the intricate interplay between Aaron Hemphill and Julian Gross, while the 10-foot-tall Andrew is always a whirlwind of activity—shaking, lurching, contorting and even preening like Mick Jagger. In a small venue, the dual, percussive attack of Gross and Hemphill is all-consuming, pounding through the bodies of the crowd. In these bigger venues, some of that intensity dissipates rather than recycles through the arena. Still, Liars again proved themselves as a mighty force. Evening highlights included the rampaging but joyous "Plaster Casts of Everything," the distorted surf rock of "Freak Out" and the tribal buzz of "Let’s Not Wrestle Mt. Heart Attack."

—Adam McKibbin
02.27.08