Editor’s note: It’s three perspectives, one show. Hopefully, just like how when you put bacon, lettuce, and tomato together it creates something more meaningful, profound, and tasty than any one of them alone, this feature will create a magnificent gestalt that gives a more true reflection of the show experience than just one review alone. Yah. I’ll shut up now.

Local ideas man, Addy Smith

Purple.

I’m what you might call a latent Interpol fan… I love their music every time I hear it and danced my ass off on Friday, but I own more of their t-shirts (1) than albums (0).  I could tell there were others like me at the show, but I also kept looking up the balcony where this one guy sang and air-guitared the entire show… seriously, every song. He was almost as engaging to watch as the actual band.

I believe, I honestly do, this band is going to be more than a footnote in the history of music. One way I judge music is to imagine myself listening to the oldies station in 30 years and whether I can hear the song playing then.

One thing that struck me was when the lead singer said he loved coming to Norfolk. It seemed much more heartfelt than when John Malkovich’s The Great Buck Howard tells a crowd, “I love this town!” He kept on about how much he liked the venue and the fans, even saying Norfolk the right way, and the crowd gave back this massive wave of love.

Local musician and writer, Robert Lamb

I was already a few drinks into my buzz at Backstage Cafe when I saw her. Her stomach was as flat and tan as a treasure map and on each side there were tattooed pirate guns, each gun suggestively pointing towards the treasure buried beneath her jeans. She was tall, dark haired and dark skinned. She was the sort of girl that possesses immediate appeal; not the smartest one to pursue, but pretty damn hard to resist wanting.

Black and white. (Photo | Darius Daniel)

If this would have been another show (Cat Power, Bright Eyes, etc.) – a show whose main attraction is a desperate soul displayed on stage – I would have never approached the Tattooed Girl, that sort of music re-enforces the already heavy Sadness I tend to carry. I generally spend those shows wasting away in beer, killing my lungs with smoke and indulging in self-pity; disillusioned and enjoying the show alone. Fortunately this was Interpol…

I don’t know Interpol’s music, I don’t know their albums or their frontman’s name. I know that I think they are from England, or at least their sound is… but I’m pretty sure that’s wrong too. All I know is somehow their music gave me courage to talk to the Tattooed Girl and to spell my name out on her palm because it was too loud for her to hear me say my name (maybe not the best “move” of all time, but definitely one of my finer moments). She took my hand and led me to the front of the stage.

We were 10 ft. away from the band when she introduced me to her “best friend” (read “boyfriend” and/or “f*** buddy”). To my surprise this unfortunate turn of events didn’t plunge me deep into the Sadness as it normally would have, Interpol wouldn’t let me be disheartened. Their music is like Kryptonite to heartbreak. I left the Tattooed Girl and her “best friend,” but I did not hang my head because the music moved me to dance, to shake off rejection and realize it’s all part of the groove.

Local artist, Amanda Page Stephens.

Red.

I first found out that Interpol was on tour from an email announcing that they would be playing in D.C. in a couple months. I casually asked a few friends if they wanted to take a road trip. There were no takers. Not being Interpol’s biggest fan I scratched the possibility of doing a solo jaunt to see them. A few weeks later, I received a bulk email from the NorVa listing Interpol as an upcoming show. I found myself excited but not ready to buy a ticket. The week of the show quickly arrived. The threat of the venue selling out motivated me to finally purchase a ticket despite having no real plans to go with anyone. I had heard of people going but none of my close friends could afford the $31 show and, to be quite honest, neither could I. I found myself the day of the show kind of searching Facebook to find a partner in crime to go with. Despite my efforts, I flew solo. It’s something I used to do all the time at the Kingshead Inn and various other smaller venues since then. I saw Peaches at the NorVa by myself too. This was different for some reason.

So solo I flew into the NorVa. I was late. I missed the first act. Rumor has it that they were something to see. The second band didn’t really capture my interest.  I ventured outside to the smoker’s patio. Immediately I was greeted by fans I knew. Their excitement was totally contagious. A little part of me knew I would find some of the area’s finest music lovers there that I’m fortunate to call my friends. Right before Interpol’s set started, I wandered around the crowd to only discover how wide range their fan base is. The audience reflected numerous sides of my music background from punk rock to electro/dance to indie rock to pop. I was impressed.

I joined two friends about halfway between the stage and the soundboard. Interpol entered and for the first time, I saw them as individuals, not just as the music. Style and class oozed from the stage. Then the music filled the NorVa and I knew immediately that this was not a show to miss. Despite most of the crowd’s awestruck somewhat laid back stance, I couldn’t help myself. I danced. I took up space. The songs I knew made me sing along. My friends gave me those “I’m right there too” looks full of enjoyment. I admit I wanted more people to dance. The crowd was a bit disappointing. Despite this factor, Daniel Kessler stated his love for the venue. That it was a favorite of Interpol’s show. I don’t know if it’s a common feeling these days, but a lot of bands that I have seen at the NorVa have stated this.

Sadly, the set flew by. It was time for the crowd to go wild for an encore. To my surprise, the audience hardly reacted to the departure of Interpol. It was as if they just expected to get more music and that they didn’t have to work for it. I was shocked.  Despite the quiet crowd, Interpol returned. The encore was, of course, the best part. They finished with “Evil,” which I love and had stuck in my head on and off for weeks. It’s a shocker I even knew the name of that song, I must confess. After all, I am just an artist not a real music critic.