Not-So-Reticent Barenaked Ladies Enjoy Themselves

Barenaked Ladies Friday, Aug. 15, The Met

Steven Page, the Barenaked Ladies’ stout front man, told the audience early in the show that his zipper was down.

The crowd, a bobbing, grinning full house, wanted intimacy from the goofy quintet. Barriers, however, can be good.

They weren’t to be found Friday, as the band welcomed the crowd into their world, a Nintendo-playing and beer-in-hand whirlwind of wit where potty humor is still funny and nothing is sacred.

Guitarist Ed Robertson recounted his crush on a clumsy Cuccina Cuccina waitress. They compared the smell of Spokane’s airport to a “pro wrestler sleeping on a plate of lasagna.”

Between send-ups, the band glided through a crafted two-and-a-half-hour set. Within the acoustically friendly Met, the well-traveled band sounded flawless and showed musical range.

Page has a rich baritone as full as a sail. Robertson alternated between bluegrass picking and metal-guitar whaling. Bassist Jim Creggan briefly jumped onto an electric arco, a funky string instrument that sounds like an accordion in a dryer. The crowd loved it.

With such songs as “Blame it on Me” and “Jane,” the band built merengue melodies that drew enthusiastic applause.

Then they slipped into satire. The lyrics of “Yoko Ono” say: “I’ll be your Yoko Ono, I’ll follow you wherever you go.” In another, Page wrestles with the guilt of tagging a buddy in the forehead with a BB gun when he was 12. “I live with it every day, even though we moved away,” he sings.

The band also indulged their trademark covers. Among the dabbling was Rush’s “Tom Sawyer,” a testament to their native Canada. The five, who look fit enough to take on an entire Taco Bell, danced and wiggled to a Spice Girls’ tune.

This was the Barenaked Ladies’ first trip to Spokane, and the audience showed their naivete. No one chucked boxes of macaroni and cheese during the anthem, “Million Dollars,” as is the tradition. The middle-aged couple behind me didn’t seem to get the humor in Robertson’s improv rap, “Spokane is in the house!”

But the band’s schtick is entertaining themselves, and they did that with skill. Their art, they seem to say, is all about beer, whoopie cushions and road trips.

, DataTimes