Bowery Ballroom
New York City
Words by Abbey Braden
Photos by Kyle Dean Reinford

The Teenagers, aka indie francophiliacs’ wet dream du jour, looped back through NYC just months after their US concert debut. In the interim the trio’s album Reality Check dropped, and we’ve had some time to mull the whole package over. Think of the LP, from start to finish, as a game of spin the bottle circa your junior high school years. You wouldn’t want your parents to walk in on you listening to it, and you would DIE if everyone at school knew all the gory details- but at the time the sloppy and naughty factors combine to blur all good judgment. For a fleeting evening before remorse kicks in a good time is had by all. The band’s live performance- which thankfully improves each time so remorse isn’t an issue — is the same.

Love ‘em or hate ‘em, the Teenagers are the ultimate party trick. To quote a wise Disconapper, “You’re either in on the joke or you aren’t.” Well chuck that haterade over your shoulder into a houseplant and come join in on the fun. Now, the big question in our minds before the Bowery show was if the female audience members clamoring for the stage for ‘Homecoming’ actually knew the lyrics this time. Because, you know, if you’re up there volunteering for the part of the ‘American C*nt’- but you don’t know the words and shimmy even harder to make up for the fact- OMG, the joke is kinda on you.

The show was in full swing as soon as the quintet hit the ballroom. Onstage the three guys were fleshed out by two additional members, who just happen to be hot chicks. Verrry smart. One is a force of nature on drums, and the second is on keys (imperative for their tongue-in-cheek retro renditions) and guitar, and chimes in on vox when the American girls can’t pick up the slack in the aforementioned duet. The energy of the crowd was ebullient when the band unleashed ‘French Kiss’ and ruby light flooded the room for our personal favorite ‘Sunset Beach.’ Fever pitch was reached, as predicted, for ‘Homecoming.’

The Teenagers might have started for laughs, but now they’ve got a label behind them and are delivering the goods and having a blast. Perhaps the best line of the night was a simple proclamation by frontman Quentin Delafon as he was almost tripped by some girls grabbing at his ankles: “WHOAH! American girls are definitely NOT shy.” Now pardon us while we go nurse our vodka redbulls and mourn the loss of a Jazzmaster. Our fucking Jazzmaster.

Homecoming:

SETLIST: Feeling Better Fuck Nicole Love No III Starlett Johansson (Trouble) French Kiss Make It Happen Homecoming Streets of Paris ENCORE: Sunset Beach