The Trials of Van Occupanther snuck out of the woods last fall and stunned all of us. We gasped as its vines pulled us under and only words like “cinematic” and “Fleetwood Mac” came out. Jury’s still out on whether Midlake is “cinematic” or simply copping AM gold, but those boys from Denton, Texas sure are cinephiles: as they set up the dreaded video projector at the front of the stage (over the strums of America’s incredible “Sister Golden Hair”), the promise of a spontaneous, exciting show seemed minor — this was, after all, a second show added to appease those Chicagoans who didn’t get tickets for the more desirable and more sold out 10 p.m. 21+ show. “So you’re either the procrastinators or those who want to see two shows,” one band member quipped.

I don’t mind the visual stimulus a video screen provides, I just find it makes for a more regimented show dictated by a machine rather than an asshole house manager. There may not be much of a difference, but no matter. I just wanted music. What their projector showed instead were wonderful mash-ups of films obscure and once-known, including Roman Polanski’s “Tess,” a period piece with Richard Burton, Lawrence Olivier, and John Gielgud that sent me slaving away on IMDB (“Wagner,” 1983), and a film that confounded with incredible long takes, an Ivan the Terrible-looking villain and vaguely Eastern Europe circa 1400 look to it.

Lead singer Tim Smith dresses like he just got back to base camp, all thermal shirt and beard. Maybe this aversion to coldness got me to thinking of “McCabe and Mrs. Miller’s” mucky Presbyterian Church, WY; a decidedly American setting and the sort of place that might vibrate with Midlake’s strange bestial themes and otherworldly harmonies.

With a keyboard for every five square feet of stage, the show fittingly rose with a lovely swell that gave way to the distinctly squishy synth of “We Gathered in Spring.” The band performed with album-like consistency, quietly achieving the analog loveliness that drives so many of the songs. A fine approach, but rarely were they inspired (perhaps first show fatigue?), save examples of the Midlake Hypothesis: the more voices, the better the music.

Smith has a fine, soothing wail, but whenever his four bandmates jump in—and they all had mics—the harmonizing gives their music new energy. The mixing of vocals is such a simple pleasure, and yet one so few bands satisfy. When Smith announced a new song—I believe it was called “Children of the Grounds“—all five members gave measured vocals that scored a slow zoom out of some ancient schematic. That song was impressive.

The limits of the live show and the video screen meant my favorites would align with the album, which they did: “Roscoe” was wonderful, if memory serves me it accompanied the Ivan the Terrible film and was something to behold; and “Head Home” played with the “Tess” mash-up, a brilliant stroke—remixing a film not for laughs but for music (it’s up on YouTube). I really am speechless when it comes to “Head Home.”

The music is lovely and soft, as were the band, who only loosened up toward the end; after announcing that they would forgo an encore and simply play their last song, the DVD playing their videos ended. A cheesy iDVD menu appeared on the screen, reading “The Midlake Show;” a rare, comic embarrassment from the otherwise calm and collected Midlake.

The lights came up, and the radio started playing again: “Suzanne,” one of Leonard Cohen’s songs featured in “McCabe,” started echoing down. That’s the only way a song like that sounds. It was hardly a joyous moment, but not really a depressing one, either. A long line snaked through the bar of Midlake-crazy fans ready to enjoy (probably) the exact same show we’d just seen. Sometimes seeing a movie twice isn’t such a bad idea.

Midlake Official Site
World’s Fair Records