Friday night’s Phoenix performance at Terminal 5 proved one for the ages. (Never really understood that phrase, but something tells me it’s fitting in this instance.) The place was packed, even more so than during Wednesday’s Metric concert, by my estimation anyway. My trusty photog and I arrived just in time for the main attraction, bypassing opener Amazing Baby altogether; we figured the French foursome (technically, fivesome) would be entertainment enough for one night. Well, at least until we made our way to Brooklyn’s Studio B for Thunderheist. But that’s another entry entirely.

Phoenix took the stage at nearly 9:50. The interim music cut out and the lights dimmed, provoking the whole room to erupt, cheers combating claps. Audience noise settled as instrumentals started in, hinting at “Love Like a Sunset Part I,” a kick-ass, lyric-less track off their super successful latest release, Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix (May 2009, Glassnote). Audio abruptly changed direction and, lights still low, the men began with “Lisztomania.” The sea of devotees didn’t shy away from expressing their enthusiasm at this song selection, arms raised and ready to get this show on the road.

Few things could distract me from my feverish note-taking, eyes glued to these flawless foreigners; just then, in walked the busty, blonde bombshell from (I’m not ashamed to say it) one of my all-time favorite shows, Gossip Girl. That’s right, mid-“Lisztomania” into the VIP section strolled none other than the Upper East Side darling Serena van der Woodsen, er, Blake Lively. Sources confirm this lady wasn’t on the list and was sans pass, but no one’s saying no to her long locks and even longer legs (though Friday night she sported a cleavage-free black top and jeans, hair pulled back in a tousled pony).

Back to the matter at hand, following “Lisztomania,” the quintet launched into a classic track, “Long Distance Call,” the lead single off of It's Never Been Like That (2006, EMI). This nod to albums past was, by-and-large, well-received, but gives rise to my single criticism surrounding their set: not enough new numbers! Okay, okay, they played all except two, but my personal gripe pertains to a single song and should be taken as a compliment. Wolfgang is all of 10-tracks (36 minutes) and over the course of their 15-song, 80-minute gig they neglected to play “Fences,” also known as their best song ever, according to… me. It has the sickest lead-in of all time. Cue it to half a minute for the beautiful break if you don’t believe me. Whatever, all I’m saying is it would have been stellar to witness in-person. I would have air-drummed the shit out of that song!

As long as we’re on the subject of drumming, let it be reiterated (as I’m sure it’s been said before) that the drummer with whom they tour, Thomas Hedlund, is straight up off tap. This percussion prodigy has been collaborating with Phoenix for ages but is permanently part of the Swedish indie rock band The Perishers. I kept a close eye on him all night (what can I say, drummers make me swoon) and he proved one of the most active aspects of the evening. Generally drummers hang back in their designated space, concentrating like crazy and making legendary stink faces, whilst the rest of the members scoot around the stage and command all the attention. Not so with Hedlund. Granted, he stays stationary (duh), but I can’t tell you how many times he stood up or bent over, all to memorable effect. This may seem a simple thing, but his involvement left an impression. Phoenix didn’t hide their appreciation for his presence, either, evidently directing the in-house lighting technicians to shine the spotlight directly on him on numerous occasions. Maybe it’s just me, but this strikes me as a rarity. Perhaps it’s French custom, but, regardless, it did the trick in further communicating Hedlund’s significance.

Drummer-stalking aside, also of note was lead singer Thomas Mars’ lurch-like movements, hunched shoulders and shuffle-stomping around the stage. Rarely did he stand still at the mic and at one point he even lifted the stand and tossed it aside. His solitary reprieve came when they played “Love Like a Sunset Part I;” he lowered himself, laying down on the stage until it came time to bring the complete piece full circle with its second section, “Love Like a Sunset Part II.” Guitarist Christian Mazzalai, to whom I have been partial ever since our interview, had his own stage style, hopping a bit in his skinny jeans and frequently lifting his instrument mid-torso in true rocker mode. I even caught him doubling over mid-song sometimes (during “Rome,” from Wolfgang, among others), which I found both amusing as well as endearing. While in, er, on “Rome,” it may as well be said that the room went berserk at the repetitive part (“Rome” is recited no fewer than 40 times at the end of this stellar song), and in real fan fashion everyone chanted along. Easy enough to nail, no?

Before I complete this post, two tidbits must be mentioned. Delicious morsels, if you ask me. First, their rendition of “Funky Squaredance” (United, 2000, EMI) was off. The. Hook. They embarked on this song in medias res (part II to be precise), bathed in bluish light. Hedlund played solo to start, so far as I could tell from my bird’s-eye perch, hitting his set frenetically as a synthed-out, pre-recorded voice enunciated the choppy, upward-scaling “funky squaredance, funky squaredance, funky squaredance” on and on. This had everyone hooting and hollering, totally psyched for what was to come. Laurent Brancowitz (AKA Branco) stood with his back to the audience, observing Hedlund. Mars kneeled, like a child, on the stage, patiently waiting for his cue. Nearly a minute in, the jarring -– and, later, winding –- electric guitars set in with a compelling light show to match. Deck D'Arcy rocked the keys, his bass guitar hoisted over his shoulder, out of the way. At almost a minute-and-a-half, Mars stood to join his comrades, the lights dropping to pitch black save for a collection of white rays conjoining to highlight his vocal entry. His steady delivery in the electrified voice of these stream-of-conscious lyrics became the focal point around which the song (and beams) centered. Ecstatic shouts of glee abounded. If anyone entered doubting Phoenix’s rock ‘n’ roll status, this definitely set them straight. Damn. The song concluded with frantic strobes, then abruptly blacked out.

Last but not least, the boys broke into their latest commercial hit, “1901.” Mars managed to stretch their rockstar standing as far as it would go and we were all thankful for this special, albeit somewhat predictable, encore. As the ballad wound down, he climbed from the stage into the pit and joined admirers behind the barricade, singing amongst some very lucky kids. Deck sang with him, as did the entire room; “fold it, fold it, fold it!” Security hoisted him back up, at which point Mars recalibrated, began clapping and led us all in a collective applause sesh. He egged us on, “come on New York!” and tantrum-plodded about before jumping in the air, mic held high, lights flickering on and off as he let out an unintelligible scream. Then came a courteous “thank you guys so much! Have a great night!” At this, Mars took a bow and Deck and Christian threw picks into the human ocean. Hedlund tossed his sticks straight up in the air and the guys made their way offstage. And thus we reached the denouement. Succès fou!

Photos by Pearse Daly