This year’s Band Camp, rocking the Waikïkï Shell Sunday, features a broad spectrum of musical styles and personalities certain to have wide appeal.
On one end, you have the androgynous dysfunction that is Panic at the Disco, a four-member band that actually broke up this summer, after searing the music world with its double-platinum debut album, “A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out.”
For Band Camp, it’s down to just lead singer and guitarist Brendon Urie doing a solo acoustic set of Panic songs, along with some new work.
Then, from Maui, you have up-and-comers The Throwdowns, a powerful foursome fronted by the immensely talented Canadian import Erin Smith. The band’s sound can best be described as Island punk, with elements of ska, Sublime and The Pretenders. What the future holds for them is anyone’s guess, but the talent is there.
Which brings us to The Fray, the band you can’t escape.
Instead of imploding like so many acts upon finding success, they’ve marketed themselves everywhere. To the uninitiated, they are the group you hear in the “Grey’s Anatomy” ads, with the hit “How to Save a Life.” Their other songs “Heartless,” “You Found Me” and “Over My Head (Cable Car)” also have become major hits.
Based in Denver, the Fray originally formed as a Christian rock band, but discovered their lyrics weren’t translating to the general public. Though still religious, they’re reluctant to talk about their beliefs publicly.
“It’s a funny thing to talk about because there are so many different perceptions of words,” said Isaac Slade, the group’s 28-year-old lead singer and pianist. “What church means to somebody is like what being an American means to somebody. It may be completely different depending on what country they are from ... I’m hesitant to get super deep on it, but it forces us to do things that we feel matter, not waste time. We’ve seen people come and go, and we’ve got the mike right now, and we don’t want to waste it.”
As a boy raised on religion, rock music was not allowed in Slade’s home. But for Christmas one year, he got a present that changed his life.
“My mom made the mistake of giving me a Walkman as a kid and telling me not to listen to secular music, this evil thing,” Slade said with a laugh. “I’d lay awake late night listening to the radio. And to this day, there are still songs that I freeze in my tracks when I hear — the forbidden songs by The Cars, Boyz II Men and Chrissie Hynde.”
Although Slade defied his mother’s warning, the strict morals instilled in him have helped him maintain a somewhat normal, anonymous life, despite the band’s widespread success.
“We get recognized every once in a while, but we’re stoked because the majority of exposure to The Fray is not in the tabloids but in the headphones,” Slade said. “So unless they hear me singing to a friend at a Starbucks, it’s not going to happen.”
Eschewing the spotlight physically, yet seeking it musically, leads to an interesting dynamic at The Fray’s live shows. Fans aren’t sure what to expect when they come to their concerts. Many wonder how The Fray’s contemplative and introspective songs could translate into fun, lively entertainment for huge crowds.
“We kind of have two different lives, and hopefully one day, they’ll come together,” Slade said. “The records; they’re really intimate. The shows have an intimacy too, but the aggression and anger come across a lot more. The angst comes across visibly, which surprises our fans, and actually surprises us.”
Slade said people come to their concerts and think, “Wait a minute. Aren’t these the quiet, suburban shoegazers?”
“Here we are jumping all over the stage,” he added. “It’s become an outlet for a lot of stuff that we are all going through that we didn’t foresee.”
Some of the angst comes from the pressure to follow up the massive success of their first studio album, “How to Save a Life.” The Fray’s self-titled second studio album, released in early 2009, debuted in the top spot of Billboard 200, while the lead single, “You Found Me,” hit No. 7 on Billboard Hot 100.
But Slade said his concern is not just about achieving critical acclaim, but making sure their music touches people the way the first album did.
“I’ve freaked out that I’m not saying something important enough,” he said. “So I get all intellectual and heady, then I sit there in the vocal booth, even on this last record, and sing a lyric and it makes logical sense, but it wasn’t coming from my chest, and it literally falls flat. I look in the studio, and everybody is either e-mailing or falling asleep or just cringing. We all recognize you can think through something a little too much, so we try to just write what’s on our mind and let it go.”
