Interpol - Chicago, IL

This would be my third time seeing Interpol perform live. The previous two times I came away astonished at how Interpol blew the roof off of the venue. From start to finish at those shows the crowd was transfixed, and the band felt it. At the end of "PDA" Paul Banks dropped to his knees as if overcome by the energy. However, this time the band was performing at the Aragon. Otherwise known as the venue where "Sound Comes to Die."

Certain that Interpol contained the skill to balance the terrific music from the past two albums with the catacombs of the Aragon I had no worries. In fact, lost in the sea of concertgoers on the floor, the venue was shaking with anticipation. The lights dimmed, the supremely dressed gents took to the stage and broke into a stunning rendition of "Last Exit." My face hurt from smiling at the idea they would prove everyone wrong that believes no one sounds good in the Aragon. But then came the first single from Antics, "Slow Hands." And in a word, it sounded awful. Each consecutive song in a very Antics-heavy set was off.

Sam Fogarino and Carlos D were completely lost in the mix. "C'mere" and "Public Pervert" were sound collages of poor guitar sound and screeching Paul Banks vocals. The gorgeous "Hands Away" failed to swell into a thing of beauty at the end. Instead, it hung in the air like the cigarette smoke in the Aragon. One of the best songs on the album, "Not Even Jail" was a mess as Banks' vocals became so high pitched some of the concertgoers winced. An awkward segue into the once believed impossible to mess up "PDA" was the biggest disappointment of the evening.

Yes, the sound mix was terrible at the Aragon once again, and because I love this band so much I refuse to place the blame on their shoulders. The Aragon should be torn down, and if ever someone needed convincing of it, Friday was a prime example. The show wasn't all bad. "Evil" was performed with reckless abandon and the crowd reacted with nothing but exaltation. "A Time to Be So Small" and "NYC" were both featured the utmost meticulousness, sending a wave of guitar, drumming and vocals crashing over the crowd. And for a moment. For just one moment, Carlos D was once again the epitome of cool. Sam Fogarino was a force behind his kit. Daniel Kessler shuffled his feet with the music. And Paul Banks stood completely still. For a moment, all was right in the world.