Clearly Patrick Stump is not of this world. Rocks the bowtie, dares a fucking cummerbund and a shiny suit and leather mittens, rocks a four-piece band perfectly in tune with his old school exoticism as well as his explosive new soul punk sound.
Full-on histrionics, with a tiny trumpet or extra powerful behind his white guitar. Belting it out, hamming it up and soaring without fear, nothing holds him down, nothing possibly could. Reinvention before your very eyes ladies and gentlemen, this man will only do it his way, and you’re in for one hell of a ride. Perfect entertainer. ‘Kiss my sass’ turned into an extremely sexy rock n’ roll breakdown, or a super sweet rendition of ‘Nothing compares’ on the piano (yeeeeears since I’ve heard that one, gosh. To think half that room probably doesn’t even get Sinead’s bald face haunting them after hearing this), breaking into ‘Champs Elysees’ for a funny beat and pulling out orgasmic faces as he strums on another. Excellent guitarist and bassist with him— pretty sure I’ve seen Rubano play somewhere else before- slick dude in a green suit on keys and a perfect drummer, all prancing around and dancing and giving it all themselves. They all freeze halfway through a song for over a minute and then pick up the beat back again flawlessly, even more proof of a band that works well together, as if any more was needed.
So much joy clapping along for the closer, ‘Spotlight’, which was also part of the opener, as Patrick is also bringing back the long lost art of the medley. There’s this groove and r’n’b flavor to his work that reminds me of the stuff I myself grew up on, and it comes with this need to sing aloud and sometimes just have fun doing the backing vocals because the harmonies are so awesome, and I can see how some of it is lost on his previous fanbase, but it makes me wish even more they’d give him another shot, because once you’re in his zone he blows your mind. There are some more rocking tunes coming in his album, but there’s a funk beat and a soul to them just as his more r’n’b stuff is still carries a punk swagger.
I wish I could see all my favorite bands at la Boule Noire, because it’s a great little venue. Wooden benches and crazy murals, some Art Déco chandeliers, and no other exit but through the floor and up the front steps. So Patrick eventually came out from behind the stage and talked to absolutely everyone that stuck around. And the show wasn’t really sold out, but we were still a good 50 people, and yet he was gracious and perfectly attentive to each of them, even the giggling clusters of teenage girls. Also he smells really fucking good, and is quite tiny but has some more meat on his bones now, thank fuck. Still rocked a black sweater and bow tie even post-gig, the man has so much style it’s blinding. I may have sat around and creeped on him for a little longer than I should, probably. Oops.