Death Cab for Cutie, Postal Service serve 2003 nostalgia at a sold-out Milwaukee concert

“So this is the new year,” Ben Gibbard sang at the very start of Death Cab for Cutie’s Milwaukee set Monday.

The new year? Not quite.

But the fans who filled the sold-out, 4,086-seat Miller High Life Theatre Monday wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Frequent visitors to Milwaukee over the years, Death Cab offered something different Monday — a front-to-back performance of the band’s game-changing 2003 album “Transatlanticism.”

But perhaps the stronger selling point was that Gibbard was doing double duty Monday with a rare performance from the Postal Service. Alongside that side project's Jimmy Tamborello and Jenny Lewis (plus Death Cab’s Dave Depper on keys and occasional drums by Death Cab’s Jason McGerr), the indie electronic-pop rockers played only their second Milwaukee show ever Monday, and their first in town in 21 years — also a front-to-back album presentation, of the group's lone album, also from 2003, “Give Up.”

And that was it for the main sets. No recent Death Cab material, no "I Will Follow You Into the Dark," no Jenny Lewis songs. By restricting the sets to those signature albums, Gibbard made sure nothing detracted from the night's early-aughts nostalgia, when those bands helped to instigate indie rock’s mainstream rule.

But one set still managed to offer a little more beyond a blast from the past — and, surprise, it wasn't the band that's regularly touring and putting out albums.

Not that Death Cab for Cutie was phoning it in. That first line from album and set opener "The New Year" continues with Gibbard proclaiming, "And I don't feel any different" — and it showed in Milwaukee Monday night, with the 47-year-old Gibbard acting at least 20 years younger, bouncing around the stage, guitar in hand, rushing over to jam with both Depper on guitar on one side and bassist Nick Hermer (the lone remaining original member, aside from Gibbard) on the other.

Gibbard was even extra for an extra-slow and sweet song like "Passenger Seat," putting his guitar aside as he acted out the lyrics, "Then looking upwards I strain my eyes and try/To tell the difference between shooting stars and satellites." His emo-oriented energy inspired a smitten, soft crowd singalong for the outro: "When you need directions, then I'll be the guide, for all time, for all time."

Gentle lyrics and vocals like those were a chief reason "Transatlanticism" was so transcendent, and they remained the focal point of the 11-song, 47-minute Death Cab set. Even when Gibbard was genuflecting passionately and swaying his body wildly at the mic stand, his vocal delivery remained calm and tender, selling lovestruck lines but also heightening his devastation, like in the parting words to "Tiny Vessels": "You are beautiful, but you don't mean a thing to me."

When it comes to the title track, however, only one of those sentiments applies. Gibbard regularly dipped to his knees and gestured to fans across the seven-minute opus, the climactic instrumental bridge building to a boil ever so slowly. Gibbard heightened the tension by teasing a vocal release with a step to the mic before stepping aside with words unspoken. Finally, after what felt like forever, he gave in with a cathartic epiphany, calling out, "I need you so much closer" as the music began to break like waves crashing against a rocky shore.

It was the most dramatic song of the night. And yet, unlike Gibbard, this primarily middle-aged crowd was still pretty subdued for Death Cab. Perhaps this being a Monday was to blame, or perhaps fans were in their feels.

But when the Postal Service appeared for their primary 10-song, 50-minute set, all dressed in white, the crowd definitely got wilder.

It helped that Gibbard's undeterred stage charisma carried over, and also expanded, like when he got behind the drumkit for sixth song "Clark Gable" (the first Postal Service song Monday with live drums) — then did it again for subsequent tune "We Will Become Silhouettes," with Gibbard offering a funky drum break reminiscent of the late, infinitely sampled Clyde Stubblefield, a longtime Madison resident.

It also helped that Gibbard was joined by another skilled stage veteran in Lewis. Alas, she remained underutilized in the mix live, but found some ways to rise above the fray Monday, like a more pronounced snarling guitar part for "This Place Is a Prison." (She was employed more in the live show than on the group's album, where she was essentially just a backing vocalist on six songs).

But Lewis owned her dominating vocal showcase Monday for "Nothing Better," in lieu of the album's Jen Wood, countering Gibbard's pining with poised swagger and low-key sass as she coolly put him in his place, singing, "You're getting carried away feeling sorry for yourself with these revisions and gaps in history."

But probably the primary reason the capacity crowd was more animated for the Postal Service set Monday was Tamborello's electronic production, the way it created grandeur from fragile intimacy. (It's clearly had a major influence over the decades, especially on Milwaukee music scene veteran Nick Sanborn and his production work with synthpop duo Sylvan Esso.)

Tamborello honored the assignment Monday and offered one nostalgic rush after the other. There were the mood-setting, deep-synth swells and fluttering digital strings on "The District Sleeps Alone Tonight," the Super Mario-run-amok chiptune delights of "Brand New Colony."

But here and there, he also offered something different, and wonderful. The dreamy outro for "Such Great Heights" was dragged out and embellished Monday, prompting a prolonged, spaced-out clap along from the crowd. "Recycled Air" was anything but, beginning with a new symphonic synth intro and ending with Tamborello mimicking Gibbard's final lyrics through distorted vocoder. He injected "Silhouettes" with a surprise synth drop like a warped rendition of the old THX trailers, and led a trip-hop jam for final song "Natural Anthem" that was more frenzied, and exciting, than the studio version.

Inspired moments like these weren't just about celebrating the past. They were celebrating the now.

Now, should fans start to get their hopes up again, in light of these creative tweaks, that the Postal Service will finally make another album — hopefully, with more creative input from Lewis this time?

Probably not. But I'm not ready to give up hope.

5 takeaways from Death Cab for Cutie and the Postal Service's Milwaukee concert, including opener Slow Pulp

• The main Death Cab and Postal Service sets were just their 2003 albums front-to-back, but after the Postal Service wrapped, there were two songs for the encore. The first was a country-waltz rendition of "Such Great Heights," with Gibbard singing and playing acoustic guitar, and Lewis offering some backing vocals. Initially intriguing, this take became a touch tedious.

• After "Such Great Heights," everyone in Death Cab and the Postal Service teamed up for the encore finale, a delightful rendition of Depeche Mode's "Enjoy the Silence," with Gibbard and Lewis taking turns with the climactic guitar melodies over the bridge, and Gibbard dedicating the song to "anybody who had to peel their ass off the floor of the Cactus Club at 2 a.m. I know I did."

• Perhaps in an attempt to transport everyone back to the early aughts, signs at the metal detectors suggested filming and phones were prohibited and violators would be ejected. From my spot on the mezzanine, the majority of people complied, although phones still came out to film the show and no one appeared to get reprimanded.

• Show-goers got a little extra atmosphere entering the theater lobby Monday. The lights were dimmed, fog machines were on and colorful, patterned spotlights filled the space. A cool touch — although navigating this theater is inherently a little confusing, so the darkness probably didn’t help matters.

• Opener Slow Pulp is based in Chicago, but the group actually started in Madison, where all four full-time members — bassist Alex Leeds, singer and guitarist Emily Massey, drummer Teddy Mathews, and guitarist Henry Stoehr — grew up. Their longtime camaraderie showed in such setlist highlights as angsty post-grunge brooder “Mud” and the alt-country-leaning “Broadview” — with frontwoman Massey going back and forth between yearning vocals and subtle harmonica. Gibbard made sure to give them a shout-out during Death Cab’s set, calling them “the bee's knees.” Now there’s a quote for the Slow Pulp press kit.

Contact Piet at (414) 223-5162 or [email protected]. Follow him on X at @pietlevy or Facebook at facebook.com/PietLevyMJS.

This article originally appeared on Milwaukee Journal Sentinel: Death Cab for Cutie, Postal Service serve nostalgia at Milwaukee show