We will follow you ... anywhere: Death Cab for Cutie comes home after amazing success

MESA, Ariz. — A few songs into last Saturday night's concert, singer Ben Gibbard gave an almost amusingly unpresumptuous introduction:

"We're Death Cab for Cutie, from Seattle, Washington."

A roar of approval erupted from the capacity crowd at Mesa Amphitheatre, where bundled college-age fans braved a chilly evening — for this Phoenix suburb, at least. The air on this first night of December was crisp, the sky clear, revealing a full moon and, to the right of the stage, the constellation Orion. In 2006, the stars have aligned almost perfectly for Death Cab, which has had one stunning, career-propelling moment after another. First, a "Saturday Night Live" appearance in January, followed by Leno and Letterman appearances. A cable (VH1 Classic) special with Elvis Costello. Sasquatch (at the Gorge), Lollapalooza and Neil Young's Bridge School Benefit festivals. Tours in Europe and Australia. An impromptu recording session with the Who's Pete Townsend in Ireland. A string of sell-out shows across the country. And Thursday, two Grammy nominations for "I Will Follow You Into the Dark" and the video for "Directions."

"Plans," the band's first major-label (Atlantic Records) album after four on tiny local label Barsuk, was released in September 2005, ranking No. 4 on the Billboard charts in its first week. The often-gloomy band's most accessible album, "Plans" has since surpassed the half-million "gold" standard, with sales approaching 800,000.

Figures like that are pretty impersonal and generic. A more intimate gauge of Death Cab as a cultural phenomenon emerged during the first encore song, "I Will Follow You Into the Dark." Alone on stage, Gibbard played acoustic guitar and sang solo ... well, not quite solo.

The audience sang along with it — not just the chorus, but the entire song. It seemed like at least half the audience knew every word to the marvelous ballad, which might be the YouTube generation's "Freebird." (Lighters were waved during the song, as well as cellphones.) And it's not just Phoenix: Audiences have been singing along to that song at many shows around the country.

Where the music started

After the concert, Gibbard, 30, and guitarist Chris Walla, 31, took turns sitting on the edge of the stage, chatting with a reporter (also in the band: Nick Harmer and Jason McGerr). They have done scores of wearying interviews over the year but seemed happy to talk to a hometown paper — and, indirectly, the hometown fans, the people who came to their shows in Seattle clubs, when they were local sensations but national nobodies.

Speaking of Seattle, Death Cab puts an exclamation point on its staggering year with a tour-ending concert Saturday night at KeyArena. This itself is a sign of how big the band has become: The last Seattle shows have been at the Showbox, which has less than one-tenth the capacity of the Seattle Center arena.

After 125-plus concerts this year, is the Key just another show?

"I'd be lying if I said it was," said a grinning, fair-skinned Walla, in a fisherman's cap and winter coat, his lanky legs dangling off the stage. "It's pretty incredible. The biggest shows I saw when I was a kid were at the KeyArena."

Gibbard, darker both in coloring and outlook than the bubbly Walla, doesn't have as strong a connection to the Key. His most powerful music memories are of shows at the now-defunct OK Hotel, for years a Pioneer Square all-ages venue.

For Gibbard, the importance of the Seattle show is its symbolism: the end of a thrilling chapter in the Death Cab book. "It means a lot to me — it's the last show we're going to be playing for a long time."

A little rest, a lot of work

After the Key concert, Death Cab will be garaged (so to speak) for a year or so. The band plans to take a long break, then begin working on the next album in the summer or even fall of 2007. They don't plan to perform until the next album is released, sometime in 2008.

That is a stark contrast to the past 15 months, spent mostly on the road, promoting "Plans" with shows, interviews, appearances ...

"It's been a year of professional highs and personal lows," mused Gibbard, sitting cross-legged on the stage, wearing a sweater and brown sports jacket over the black shirt and pants he wore in performance. With his shaggy brown hair, bushy sideburns and glasses, he looks a bit like a young professor, perhaps in psychology. And indeed, Gibbard is given to intense introspection and self-analysis.

"Home has become a trying place, a really uncomfortable and troubling place," he said suddenly. He briefly continued on this track, explaining it's hard to maintain relationships, being at home so little, and struggling when he is back in Seattle to get out of the go-go-go mentality and find common ground.

And there are artistic challenges to the vagabond lifestyle. "I have a lot of writing to do," said Gibbard, who writes all of Death Cab's probing lyrics, and finds it impossible to do anything he feels is good while traveling. He is also hoping to work on the next album by the Postal Service, his electro-pop side project.

"In order to write music, you have to live, and listen ... I just want to get home and get to work."

For Walla, home is now Portland, where the Seattle native recently bought a house. He also plans to hunker down to do some writing for a solo album he is planning. Walla is also an in-demand producer of other bands (the Thermals, the Decemberists) in addition to Death Cab. His deft production on "Plans" pumped energy into Gibbard's compositions, which tend toward the morose. (All Music Guide review: "Chris Walla does an amazing job bringing the group's sound in a different direction than before without compromising too many of the things that made the group sound great to begin with.")

"It's the sort of year where we should just step away now," said Walla. Relax, Death Cab fans — he was only joking. Mostly. "How could it possibly improve? We're all healthy, we all still like one another ... But I feel like we've got a few more good records in us before we suck."

What words come to mind when Walla thinks of 2006? "The same sort of words that popped into my head at the Thanksgiving table. Grateful. Lucky. Blessed. Hoping we can be gracious — and say 'thank you' to our fans.

"If it ended now, nobody [in the band] would be the least bit sad. We can't even dream of what the next goal would be."

No room for big heads

The wonder and honesty in Gibbard's lyrics show that despite their remarkable year, Death Cab is still grounded in reality.

Gibbard says he'll never forget the humble, and at times humiliating, beginnings of Death Cab. "In 1998, our van broke down on I-5 [in California], and we had like $50 between us. We got the van fixed, barely made it to the show — to play in front of like three kids.

"Not only has this band achieved beyond my wildest expectations, we keep each other in check. If anyone starts to get rock starry, it's like, '[Forget] that! I remember when I had to loan you $10 so you could eat!' "

On this night, like many nights of this year, young women screamed his name throughout the show, often, "I love you, Ben!" He chuckles at this, shaking his head at what strikes him as bizarre.

"I still feel like this 15-year-old geeky kid who likes records and is trying to get girls to like him and can't."

Can't get girls to like him? The band's allure for young females (fueled by appearances on TV's "The O.C.") led one writer to rather snidely dub Death Cab "your little sister's favorite band."

Other critics have been far kinder, with flattering reviews in the likes of Entertainment Weekly, the L.A. Times ("A sad and touching meditation on death and distance, handled with a light melodic touch") and Billboard ("Rock music this substantive is increasingly rare").

Of course, in the music business, you're only as good as your latest album. So who knows what will become of Death Cab for Cutie? The band could fade into oblivion, or struggle to rediscover its voice and never record again — or release another album in another year or so that blows "Plans" away.

All we know for sure is that, though it didn't have Pearl Jam or even Modest Mouse sales figures, Death Cab's 2006 has been one of the most successful years in Seattle music. And it's coming to an end Saturday night.

"I don't want to build it up too much," Gibbard said, with a knowing smile, "but it's going to be a really celebratory show."

Tom Scanlon: tscanlon@seattletimes.com