Whitney and the Fine Art of Being Uncool

Photo: Rachel Kline — Photo: Rachel Kline

Julien Ehrlich has the ability to make you feel pretty uncool, but he probably doesn’t even know it.

It’s rare that a musician like Ehrlich, a tangle of limbs sitting hunched on a stool, can make his fans feel like they have some worthiness to prove to him, while at the same time fortifying the sort of insecure devotion that only an indie fan can truly possess.

Ehrlich formed Whitney alongside Max Kakacek after the breakup of their band The Smith Westerns in 2014. With Ehrlich assuming vocals and drums, and Kakacek on guitar, the two created an indie folk sound that’s both wistful and tinged with melancholy, embodying a carefreeness that somehow feels bittersweet.

Kakacek and Ehrlich, along with brass player Will Miller took to the Syracuse University stage to perform a strictly acoustic set as a part of the university’s annual Bandersnatch concert series. Coupled with nothing but two guitars and a single trumpet, the band shyly perches themselves on stools. Kakacek and Miller are more reserved, leaving the snide jokes to Ehrlich. Without warning, the trio quietly slides into the opening of “Gonna Hurry (As Slow As I Can),” a Dolly Parton cover. It’s at this moment that Ehrlich unleashes his soft falsetto--a sound so jarring coming from that flannel-clad body, that at first listen, it might even be considered off putting. But it’s this muffled, almost angelic voice that gives Whitney a kind of haunting and soulful depth.

Before continuing any further in the set, Ehrlich slides off his work boots, revealing the pair of red wool socks underneath, as if he’s arrived in his own living room. But it’s not the action of removing his shoes that’s so fascinating; it’s the spectacle. Ehrlich halts the performance in its tracks to take off his boots, and it’s this attention that he draws to his own informalness that gives him a slight air of pomposity. But somehow you can’t hate him for it. In fact, it only makes you question why you’re the loser who’s still wearing his sneakers.

After Ehrlich decides his footwear situation is now satisfactory, the band continues with originals from their debut album Light Upon the Lake. As they play through “Dave’s Song” and “Polly,” it becomes obvious that not only do they have no set list planned, they haven’t quite figured out all of the acoustic translations either.

But this is no disaster.

Instead, it feels more like they’re messing around in the studio and we were lucky enough to somehow break in.

As if sensing the audience’s newfound feeling of privilege, Ehrlich asks if they want to hear a song so new that it doesn’t even have a name yet, on the condition that they “don’t be a jerk and record it.”

No one would even dare.

The song, from Whitney’s unreleased sophomore album, captures the passivity of coasting through life, and there’s some kind of sad naiveness to it that makes you want to immediately get in your car for a drive with this as the soundtrack.

This song is a reminder that Whitney is more than just their ten tracks on Light Upon the Lake. With their simple and warm sound, and a self-awareness that borders on self-importance, these guys might be poised to really go places.

But they’re clearly in no rush.

As the show comes to a close, with a setlist mostly dictated by shouts from the audience, it’s pretty obvious there’s only one song left to play--the band’s hit single from Light Upon the Lake.

Finally some brave soul shouts it from the audience.

“No Matter Where We Go!”

Ehrlich immediately rolls his eyes and smiles.

By now it should be clear that only Whitney could exude the sort of cocky-cool that would allow them to resent the most popular song from their debut album. They act as if the request is just as unreasonable as asking Elton John to play “Tiny Dancer.” The audience ought to feel ashamed.

Nevertheless, the three start figuring out the logistics of playing the song acoustically, as Ehrlich prefaces, “This is gonna be weird.”

“No Matter Where We Go” is undeniably catchy, if a little generic, and maybe it’s this popularity that seems to repel Ehrlich so much. How dare you like Whitney’s number one song from their only album. It’s an outrage!

Ehrlich can’t even sing through the chorus without laughing to himself “I hate this song,” in case the audience forgot in the last two minutes that their taste apparently sucks. Kakacek and Miller’s expressions echo a similar smugness.

But despite all of this, Whitney plays on. The audience sings along with every word, the brief worry that they would leave this show without hearing “No Matter Where We Go” has vanished. They explode with a grateful applause. The coy smiles on the band’s faces make you wonder if their resistance was just an act. Maybe they’re more like us than we thought. Maybe they’re uncool too.