A little worse for wear, very stiff but determined to see The Raconteurs, I head back to the Islands solo today. Michael's coming down a little later
and we've been left with a spare ticket. I try to sell it to a couple scalpers for face value...they don't go for it. Spend 15 minutes trying to pass
it on for free to some kids. Approach a couple groups to see if they have a friend they can phone who'd like to use the ticket. They just looked at me
strange. Must be an age thing. Or a brains thing. At the very least you'd think they'd be astute enough to take the ticket and sell it to the scalpers
themselves. In the end I refused the $20 offer and pocketed the ticket as insurance against being caught taping in the light of day.
Got the first available ferry over and was sipping a Bacardi and cola in the early afternoon sun. No rush today as i'm not doing any capture until the
fourth band comes onstage. The first set just finished, I'm out on the picnic benches looking at the skyline, excpecting Jose Feliciano next. Er, wait,
that was Lupe Fiasco that was supposed to be in the second slot. Instead DJ Champion is onstage. This doesn't entice me to come in any closer and I'm
not overly concerned, thinking there was just some traffic difficulty getting on the Island. About 5 minutes before the next act is due the screen flashes
that it will be Thrice. That's not good news. Still no announcement about WHY the changing order of appearance. I call a couple people I know who were
planning on seeing Thrice (and Wolfmother to follow) so they could hurry it up. Then I put back my drink and take up a spot near the left stacks.
Thrice came across sounding like a less intense alexisonfire. Not by much, just by a little.
WISTA rating: No.
Wolfmother - if Jack White has stolen all that's good out of Led Zeppelin, then these guys are the evil twin. Lead singer has that Robert Plant voice
thing going and the band seems to enjoy an excessive solo or ten. Especially the guy on the keyboard. First off, the keyboard is not a real rock n roll
instrument unless you play it with your heels and elbows and your name is Little Richard or Jerry Lee Lewis. Tilting the board, so it's at risk of tipping,
and twirling the reverb dials as you straffe the keys, is not music. It's a balancing act. What you're balancing is my interest in seeing new bands
against my tolerance for self-indulgence.
WISTA rating: I wouldn't run fast to avoid the band (of course I probably couldn't run fast to avoid a fire) but they'd have to be on a bill with someone
else i was looking to hear and playing directly before them.
Over to the Future Shop stage for what turns out to be the low-light of the entire weekend. The bass player from DeathFromAbove 79 has traded in the
stage for the studio. In concert with a DJ friend he's now doing an act called MSTRKRFT. This is club music, for club lovers only. I had an inkling but
Buck 65 didn't have a band, he used canned music and effects, and he was good. Of course, he had WORDS. The set got off to a terrible technical start.
First, as with the main stage, the set times have been altered, for reasons unknown and still unannounced. This is working out to my advantage as this one
has been moved FORWARD twenty minutes, meaning I'll have a little extra time to get back and comfortable for the Raconteurs. So after 20 minutes of setting
up the stage the MSTRKRFT guy comes out to find he's missing not one, but two, turntables.
"What do you do?" "I'm a DJ, I play records." "On what?" "D!oh." By the time they were located and plugged in we were at about 6:30 pm. That's when it
went downhill fast. I lasted 40 minutes before I wandered off, the incessant drone fading in the distance. It wasn't anywhere near 4:20 but it was 420 time.
I'd suggest the fans of this music lay off the "E" and switch to the chronic as well. Having said all that, who was there dancing up a storm with at least
7 girls? Buck 65! Aparently girls like guys who can dance and that may be the underlying secret.
WISTA rating: Only at the point of a gun.
It's been a great day for a concert and these Islands are an excellent location. Lot's of shade cover and rain cover though we've only needed a bit of both.
One last walk past the many booths giving away samples and hawking their wares. One more stroll along the waterfront as the lights of the city start to
do their dance, then back to the madding crowd to find a spot for the Raconteurs. That didn't look too promising as the Strokes had packed the main stage
to capacity. Just as quickly though, people started leaving at the end of the set and ample room opened up so I could make my way to within 25' of the
stage, directly in front of the right speaker banks.
Raconteurs played what is threatening to become a pretty static set. This is the first show of their fall tour, a one-off really as they launch in the
Southern US this week. Perhaps they have something in store for that tour. Highlights were Bang Bang, always. Blue Veins, from the intro to the explosion.
The extended Bane Rendition/Store Bought Bones and a nice extra verse thrown into Brendan's Yellow Moon. Jack was face-melting good when on guitar and
playful when not. Patrick Keeler I could listen to even if the band wasn't there.
One thing Jack still has to work on is his stage patter. Back in Cleveland he and Brendan engaged in a little 'Southern California' stuff. Then Jack questioned whether CA or Florida was the Sunshine State. They picked the wrong one.
Tonight Jack was mumbling about some border difficulties, and I paraphrase here: "Canada is harder to get into than East Germany!" ummm, Jack, getting into East Germany has never been tested...most people had difficulty getting out. Alive anyway. Which I think was the purpose of your joke. But that's ok. Those little call-outs mean nothing. They are there for the candy-cane kids and the cheap cheer you get when people hear their hometown mentioned through the PA system.
WISTA rating: 4 more times this year!
Showing posts with label festival. Show all posts
Showing posts with label festival. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Virgin Festival
Day 1 Reviews
Day 1
Overcast early in the morning, then pissing rain just as we get ready to leave home. It's gonna be a hit-and-miss day for the weather. No umbrellas. Great.
We embark on the short ferry ride to Center Island pretty close to our noon-time target. First on the agenda...find a pamphlet with all the bands and all the start times. Can't see everybody so there's choices to be made. No telling who didn't make it over the border last night. Not counting Massive Attack.
As fate would have it...no, it's got nothing to do with fate and everything to do with my OCD regarding time, we arrive before gates. They are well organized and within 20 minutes we've cleared a cursory bag check and are on our way across the wide, muddy, waters. 7 and a half minutes later, we arrive.
The sun came out as we were making our trek across Lake Ontario and the grounds, though damp, were not soaked. We have been spared a mud-fest. They are a little behind on the main stage getting set up due to the earlier downpour. Second on the agenda is finding a booth to purhcase food and drink tickets. There's a line up for everything here. One to get money. One to get tickets. One to get food. One to get drinks. One to enter contests for various Virgin products. One for the bathroom.
Michael and I find ourselves at the only spot without a line-up, in front of the main stage to see the opening act, ohbijou. Now that's the best thing about this
group, it's name. We've already peaked and the music hasn't started. 'ohbijou', went whispered softly, is the pet-name my French-Canadian mother used when trying to soothe her ill, or despondent, children. It translates loosely as 'oh, my little jewel'. The band's music is similar. Soothing. Calming. Nap inducing.
Yet there they stand on this huge stage, which they fill out pretty well with their 8 or nine bodies, but not so well with their chamber music catalogue. These guys, and girls, they are primarily a girl-band, belong in a club like Top O' The Senator, or The Drake, or Hugh's Room, some kind of yuppie enclave where people like to have a soundtrack to accompany their merger-and-acquisitions foreplay talk.
Yet there they stand, valiantly working their way through a set of songs that would have given James Taylor a boner. A band out of time. Decent enough artists, if not nipple-hardening in the excitement column. Lead singer admits to being nervous and excited and nervous. Biggest stage they'd ever played on. My guess is at around 153 people, biggest audience too.
WISTA rating: (would i see them again rating) I may be there if they play my funeral. They'll have to learn some Dylan though.
I decide to tape the second band, solely on the fact I heard somebody mention interest in their set while we were coming over on the ferry. Another large band with strange tools. What's with the violins, trumpets, flutes and african stringed instruments everyone has to play these days? Who took the rock out of "and roll"?
The set gets off to a less than stellar start when the VFest-cryer, who always goes on-and-on about SIR f*cking Richard Branson and all the Virgin stuff you can buy before each band, shows that he cares more about your pocket than getting it right by introducing the band as "the mean spiders!" They are more than that doofus, they are mean RED spiders . I think the 'red' comes from the hair colour of the lead songstress. The 'mean' comes from the guy on the boat who was talking this set up. The 'spiders' comes from the creepy-crawly feeling you get that makes your feet want to wander. Pretty sure it's a Muddy Waters song too. Another very EMOtive band. Girl-emo though, it's not as stomach turning, doesn't come across as a whine, more like a plea. Actually they call it "dream-rock" and that juxtaposition should explain the difficulty this band had in raising pulses. Too soft to get a concert of this size, stature and duration off the ground.
I'm two hours into standing still and soon my feet will grow roots. They did have one song of note, it could have been a cover, or it could have been an homage
to Judy Collins. Contained the refrain: "trains and birds and planes took you away from me," pretty well sung to the tune of Both Sides Now.
WISTA rating: Not on purpose.
ill Scarlett takes to the stage with their combination sound of pop/punk/dub/ska - light-hearted fare. Good for a start in the bright light of day. The volume has been increased, the band is excited and some of this starts to rub off on the crowd, now awakening and growing. Think of these guys as 'Rancid-lite'. They further spark up interest by throwing out packages of zig zag papers for the assembled multitude. The goal, I thougt, is to get everyone to light up during their hit song, Police State. I understand the politics but the very fact you can pull a stunt like this pretty well proves we don't live in a police state. In fact, the Island is a great place for a concert because there's plenty of room to roam. There arepicnic benches set up facing out into the lake or back towards the Toronto skyline, yet well away from the stages, where you can quietly and privately indulge. My days of waving a red flag in the face of 'the man' are well past me. Turns out it was for the set closer, Mary Jane. Silly me, stuck in the '60's. An excellent set that will stand up as one of the best "small act sets" of the entire weekend.
WISTA rating: For sure. They should be good and mature by next spring.
Time to head over to the "Future Shop" stage, everything is sponsored here. Others that pitched in with money and 80' advertising banners were, NOKIA, Bell and the Hemp Wagon. While taking a piss I was reading an add for 'concert colostomy bags' on the wall.
Buck 65 - i'm waiting for this guy to team up with Fi'ty Cent for the $2.15 Tour. Straight out of Halifax, yo, influences range from Woody Guthrie to CCR to KISS to NWA. Been at it about 15 years, had an early release on Sloan's murderrecords before signing with Warner. Almost jumped the shark in an interview where he claimed to hate hip-hop and the hip-hop culture. Bad career move when your fanbase consists of fans who love hiphop. He doesn't deny sayin' it, he just wishes he could take it back. Who hasn't been there, eh? There is plenty of 'hop' to the music and Buck65 is very 'hip', but he's more like Beck than eminem.
Anybody who lists Bob Dylan's Masters of War as the greatest song he's ever seen performed live can't be all bad. Sparse stage setup. He has a drummer hidden behind a curtain and is using canned music and scratch-tables for his band. Normally that would put me off but there's something so 'roots' about this guys demeanor, his stage persona and his set that I'm instantly enthralled by his delivery and not concerned at all about the lack of acoutrements. A pleasant change from the two ensembles we'd seen on the other stage.
Very good stage presence, he regales us with the story of the sinking barge the artists were taking over to the Island. Upset him no end, almost dying in the cold dark waters of Lake Ontario. You know you're stretching your karma alottment when you need thrash-metal rockers Starsailor to be around to save your ass.
Smart music for people who like to think. And dance. Which, admitedly might narrow his target audience somewhat.
WISTA rating:As soon as I can!
We return to the mainstage, where they are highlighting bands that have a large number of personnel. On-stage now are The Hidden Camera's. Not too well hidden.
I can see about 10 of them. The set, led by the construction guy from Village People, closes and soon roadies are dissembling yet another experience.
The next band is no different than the previous, as a large contingency, bracketed by two girls on keyboards (the inside part looks like a rock band) takes to the stage to impress us with how impressed they are of themselves.
The Dears - the cream of Montreal's sub-pop crop. They spent the better part of 2002 bogged down by their sense of self-importance. They dropped members, spent over a year doing a record that sucked and had to go back to the mixing board to salvage something while they heard the rushing sound of their 15 minutes going down the drain. Having survived that scare it'll be interesting to see if anybody's listening.
Some French people next to me were happy to be here. For me they brought nothing to the stage that 10,000 other bands don't already do. Nothing unique about either the sound or the act. Proficient? Yup. Trying hard? I think so but there girls didn't seem near as engaged as the lead singer.
WISTA rating: Only if they are an unannounced opener will that happen.
It's about this time i realize I'm going to pay dearly for not having taken a seat yet today. My 50 year old hips are starting to burn. I had been planning on staying
here to capture the Muse set but it was scheduled to end at the same time Eagles of Death Metal were taking the stage at the other location. The distance isn't far, it takes only 5 minutes to go from one stage to another...or it did 5 hours ago. Now I need a rest-break a third of the way. I pass on an opportunity to hook up with some 'Toronto tapers' until tomorrow, where I'll be sitting in a bar near the main stage all day and meander over to the Future Shop stage for the last two acts of the day, Eagles of Death Metal and local heroes, alexisonfire.
In order to catch those acts I've chosen to pass on the smash hit band of the summer, Gnarles Barkley and the Flaming Lips, argueably the biggest band booked
into this festival. I've only got so much capacity for taking interest in new bands. Gnarles is definitely a 'flash-in-the-pan' kind of band. They've got a funky
sound, a ton of energy and a monster hit in 'Crazy'. Ride that wave as long as you can boys. The Flaming Lips deserve a little more respect, I guess. They are a
fully-developed headlining act, with all the flare and chutzpah you need to command the main stage. They've been on the radio here for the better part of the
last 5 years but none of their material has jumped out at me and said..."you gotta find out who that is!" That's usually how I come to like new bands, unconsciously.
I hear one song...turn up the music. A month later I hear another and wonder who it is. Then I hear a third and find out the same band did them all...they might
be worth checking out. That's how I came to like Offspring, Green Day, The White Stripes and countless others. Almost invariably when I get 'told' about a band,
either by friends or through media hype, I don't have the same kind of attraction. Added to the equation is the fact they are running behind schedule and seeing
that act would mean leaving the island sometime around 1 am. I will take a pass for today and next time i get the urge to go see The Dears, I'll check out where
the Flaming Lips are instead and make a night of it. On another note: if those bands are all they are made out to be why are there not one, but two acts following them at the Baltimore version of VFest?
At the small stage I catch the closing minutes of Starsailors 'thrash-rock' set.
The volume is through the freakin' roof. At one point the 'sound police' called
the mixer-guy down to request the volume be dropped. They were measuring the decibel levels, recording them and doing their best to keep it civil. They have a problem with the rich people who live on the Toronto Islands. Island lands are leased to a few well-placed families. Quite the nice place to live, just across the pond from the lovely Toronto skyline. Does that make them happy? No. They stay active making sure we don't build a land bridge to the largest public park in the city because it would increase the traffic flow and disrupt their little piece of tax-payer subsidized heaven. The rest of their time they spend suing the Docks, a huge nightclub/concert complex that sits on the mainland directly across from their homes. They've managed to get the liqour license suspended just this past summer, which will surely end in the closure of those venues, due to 'noise violations'.
And now we're in their backyards. Didn't think they'd take to that.
With the noise suitably dampened but spirits still high, Eagles of Death Metal take to the stage promising to deliver some rock n roll. What i know of this group
is tangenital at best. I believe their drummer toured with Peaches in front on NIN this summer. That band, Peaches, also had a key-tar player from Le Tigre, who I'd seen in Amsterdam back in the fall of '03. Still sounds like a thrash-rock band, not so much a fem-lib-left band. They didn't have much to remind you of The Eagles in their set. Maybe the Joe Walsh version of The Eagles. They seemed more like a cross between Sha-Na-Na and Metallica. They rocked. They rolled. They called the audience out repeatedly. Also delivered a decent cover of Brown Sugar. Like Buck 65 they had a harrowing tale to tell about almost being drowned in the SeaKing that transported them to the island. I'm beginning to hope the Raconteurs have spent some time at the local pool.
WISTA rating: If they were to open a show I was attending I'd definitely catch their set.
My son has been following the next band since the days they could not sell out the small Opera House venue in Toronto. They've found themselves a little niche on the alternative scene here. Think of an agitized Trent Reznor and you got the lead singer. A little melody buried in their songs but you have to search for it. With alexisonfire I anticipate a higher volume of more thrash-rock. Call it 'srceam-O'. Popular band on our alternative radio station their latest release was a #1 record in Canada upon release, just bumped from that spot by Bob Dylan's new offering, Modern Times. That's a different neighborhood than a half-filled basement. And that's what we got, scream-O extreme-O. Mike seemed to enjoy the set and if you can measure a band's worth by the fun their hardcore fans have at a concert, then these guys are big. They do have to work on their stage patter though. Find a way to be funny without denegrating something, or someone, else. It was mostly the rather rotund lead guitar player who took time to note the two things he hates most is: "white guys with dreadlocks and beach balls at a rock concert." Some people like beach-balls, there were hundreds floating around emblazooned with the Virgin label, I even picked one up as a memento. The next couple times he thought to fill some dead air with more dead air he was poking fun at French people and gay people. Now I'm pretty sure that gay, French, beach volleyball players with dreadlocks are not part of the demographic of their fanbase, but still, why alienate anybody? Unfortunately we miss their encore (who the f*ck does an encore at a festival?) while scurrying to beat the masses to the ferry. Not too disconcerting because you don't want to be late for this, the last of many lines for the evening, because it's one thing to bring 25,000 people THIS was over the course of 12 hours...quite another to move them THAT way when they all show up at once.
WISTA rating: Not unless their development takes them towards the likes of NIN.
Great end to a great day. Tomorrow it's all the headliners, most notably, The Raconteurs!
Overcast early in the morning, then pissing rain just as we get ready to leave home. It's gonna be a hit-and-miss day for the weather. No umbrellas. Great.
We embark on the short ferry ride to Center Island pretty close to our noon-time target. First on the agenda...find a pamphlet with all the bands and all the start times. Can't see everybody so there's choices to be made. No telling who didn't make it over the border last night. Not counting Massive Attack.
As fate would have it...no, it's got nothing to do with fate and everything to do with my OCD regarding time, we arrive before gates. They are well organized and within 20 minutes we've cleared a cursory bag check and are on our way across the wide, muddy, waters. 7 and a half minutes later, we arrive.
The sun came out as we were making our trek across Lake Ontario and the grounds, though damp, were not soaked. We have been spared a mud-fest. They are a little behind on the main stage getting set up due to the earlier downpour. Second on the agenda is finding a booth to purhcase food and drink tickets. There's a line up for everything here. One to get money. One to get tickets. One to get food. One to get drinks. One to enter contests for various Virgin products. One for the bathroom.
Michael and I find ourselves at the only spot without a line-up, in front of the main stage to see the opening act, ohbijou. Now that's the best thing about this
group, it's name. We've already peaked and the music hasn't started. 'ohbijou', went whispered softly, is the pet-name my French-Canadian mother used when trying to soothe her ill, or despondent, children. It translates loosely as 'oh, my little jewel'. The band's music is similar. Soothing. Calming. Nap inducing.
Yet there they stand on this huge stage, which they fill out pretty well with their 8 or nine bodies, but not so well with their chamber music catalogue. These guys, and girls, they are primarily a girl-band, belong in a club like Top O' The Senator, or The Drake, or Hugh's Room, some kind of yuppie enclave where people like to have a soundtrack to accompany their merger-and-acquisitions foreplay talk.
Yet there they stand, valiantly working their way through a set of songs that would have given James Taylor a boner. A band out of time. Decent enough artists, if not nipple-hardening in the excitement column. Lead singer admits to being nervous and excited and nervous. Biggest stage they'd ever played on. My guess is at around 153 people, biggest audience too.
WISTA rating: (would i see them again rating) I may be there if they play my funeral. They'll have to learn some Dylan though.
I decide to tape the second band, solely on the fact I heard somebody mention interest in their set while we were coming over on the ferry. Another large band with strange tools. What's with the violins, trumpets, flutes and african stringed instruments everyone has to play these days? Who took the rock out of "and roll"?
The set gets off to a less than stellar start when the VFest-cryer, who always goes on-and-on about SIR f*cking Richard Branson and all the Virgin stuff you can buy before each band, shows that he cares more about your pocket than getting it right by introducing the band as "the mean spiders!" They are more than that doofus, they are mean RED spiders . I think the 'red' comes from the hair colour of the lead songstress. The 'mean' comes from the guy on the boat who was talking this set up. The 'spiders' comes from the creepy-crawly feeling you get that makes your feet want to wander. Pretty sure it's a Muddy Waters song too. Another very EMOtive band. Girl-emo though, it's not as stomach turning, doesn't come across as a whine, more like a plea. Actually they call it "dream-rock" and that juxtaposition should explain the difficulty this band had in raising pulses. Too soft to get a concert of this size, stature and duration off the ground.
I'm two hours into standing still and soon my feet will grow roots. They did have one song of note, it could have been a cover, or it could have been an homage
to Judy Collins. Contained the refrain: "trains and birds and planes took you away from me," pretty well sung to the tune of Both Sides Now.
WISTA rating: Not on purpose.
ill Scarlett takes to the stage with their combination sound of pop/punk/dub/ska - light-hearted fare. Good for a start in the bright light of day. The volume has been increased, the band is excited and some of this starts to rub off on the crowd, now awakening and growing. Think of these guys as 'Rancid-lite'. They further spark up interest by throwing out packages of zig zag papers for the assembled multitude. The goal, I thougt, is to get everyone to light up during their hit song, Police State. I understand the politics but the very fact you can pull a stunt like this pretty well proves we don't live in a police state. In fact, the Island is a great place for a concert because there's plenty of room to roam. There arepicnic benches set up facing out into the lake or back towards the Toronto skyline, yet well away from the stages, where you can quietly and privately indulge. My days of waving a red flag in the face of 'the man' are well past me. Turns out it was for the set closer, Mary Jane. Silly me, stuck in the '60's. An excellent set that will stand up as one of the best "small act sets" of the entire weekend.
WISTA rating: For sure. They should be good and mature by next spring.
Time to head over to the "Future Shop" stage, everything is sponsored here. Others that pitched in with money and 80' advertising banners were, NOKIA, Bell and the Hemp Wagon. While taking a piss I was reading an add for 'concert colostomy bags' on the wall.
Buck 65 - i'm waiting for this guy to team up with Fi'ty Cent for the $2.15 Tour. Straight out of Halifax, yo, influences range from Woody Guthrie to CCR to KISS to NWA. Been at it about 15 years, had an early release on Sloan's murderrecords before signing with Warner. Almost jumped the shark in an interview where he claimed to hate hip-hop and the hip-hop culture. Bad career move when your fanbase consists of fans who love hiphop. He doesn't deny sayin' it, he just wishes he could take it back. Who hasn't been there, eh? There is plenty of 'hop' to the music and Buck65 is very 'hip', but he's more like Beck than eminem.
Anybody who lists Bob Dylan's Masters of War as the greatest song he's ever seen performed live can't be all bad. Sparse stage setup. He has a drummer hidden behind a curtain and is using canned music and scratch-tables for his band. Normally that would put me off but there's something so 'roots' about this guys demeanor, his stage persona and his set that I'm instantly enthralled by his delivery and not concerned at all about the lack of acoutrements. A pleasant change from the two ensembles we'd seen on the other stage.
Very good stage presence, he regales us with the story of the sinking barge the artists were taking over to the Island. Upset him no end, almost dying in the cold dark waters of Lake Ontario. You know you're stretching your karma alottment when you need thrash-metal rockers Starsailor to be around to save your ass.
Smart music for people who like to think. And dance. Which, admitedly might narrow his target audience somewhat.
WISTA rating:As soon as I can!
We return to the mainstage, where they are highlighting bands that have a large number of personnel. On-stage now are The Hidden Camera's. Not too well hidden.
I can see about 10 of them. The set, led by the construction guy from Village People, closes and soon roadies are dissembling yet another experience.
The next band is no different than the previous, as a large contingency, bracketed by two girls on keyboards (the inside part looks like a rock band) takes to the stage to impress us with how impressed they are of themselves.
The Dears - the cream of Montreal's sub-pop crop. They spent the better part of 2002 bogged down by their sense of self-importance. They dropped members, spent over a year doing a record that sucked and had to go back to the mixing board to salvage something while they heard the rushing sound of their 15 minutes going down the drain. Having survived that scare it'll be interesting to see if anybody's listening.
Some French people next to me were happy to be here. For me they brought nothing to the stage that 10,000 other bands don't already do. Nothing unique about either the sound or the act. Proficient? Yup. Trying hard? I think so but there girls didn't seem near as engaged as the lead singer.
WISTA rating: Only if they are an unannounced opener will that happen.
It's about this time i realize I'm going to pay dearly for not having taken a seat yet today. My 50 year old hips are starting to burn. I had been planning on staying
here to capture the Muse set but it was scheduled to end at the same time Eagles of Death Metal were taking the stage at the other location. The distance isn't far, it takes only 5 minutes to go from one stage to another...or it did 5 hours ago. Now I need a rest-break a third of the way. I pass on an opportunity to hook up with some 'Toronto tapers' until tomorrow, where I'll be sitting in a bar near the main stage all day and meander over to the Future Shop stage for the last two acts of the day, Eagles of Death Metal and local heroes, alexisonfire.
In order to catch those acts I've chosen to pass on the smash hit band of the summer, Gnarles Barkley and the Flaming Lips, argueably the biggest band booked
into this festival. I've only got so much capacity for taking interest in new bands. Gnarles is definitely a 'flash-in-the-pan' kind of band. They've got a funky
sound, a ton of energy and a monster hit in 'Crazy'. Ride that wave as long as you can boys. The Flaming Lips deserve a little more respect, I guess. They are a
fully-developed headlining act, with all the flare and chutzpah you need to command the main stage. They've been on the radio here for the better part of the
last 5 years but none of their material has jumped out at me and said..."you gotta find out who that is!" That's usually how I come to like new bands, unconsciously.
I hear one song...turn up the music. A month later I hear another and wonder who it is. Then I hear a third and find out the same band did them all...they might
be worth checking out. That's how I came to like Offspring, Green Day, The White Stripes and countless others. Almost invariably when I get 'told' about a band,
either by friends or through media hype, I don't have the same kind of attraction. Added to the equation is the fact they are running behind schedule and seeing
that act would mean leaving the island sometime around 1 am. I will take a pass for today and next time i get the urge to go see The Dears, I'll check out where
the Flaming Lips are instead and make a night of it. On another note: if those bands are all they are made out to be why are there not one, but two acts following them at the Baltimore version of VFest?
At the small stage I catch the closing minutes of Starsailors 'thrash-rock' set.
The volume is through the freakin' roof. At one point the 'sound police' called
the mixer-guy down to request the volume be dropped. They were measuring the decibel levels, recording them and doing their best to keep it civil. They have a problem with the rich people who live on the Toronto Islands. Island lands are leased to a few well-placed families. Quite the nice place to live, just across the pond from the lovely Toronto skyline. Does that make them happy? No. They stay active making sure we don't build a land bridge to the largest public park in the city because it would increase the traffic flow and disrupt their little piece of tax-payer subsidized heaven. The rest of their time they spend suing the Docks, a huge nightclub/concert complex that sits on the mainland directly across from their homes. They've managed to get the liqour license suspended just this past summer, which will surely end in the closure of those venues, due to 'noise violations'.
And now we're in their backyards. Didn't think they'd take to that.
With the noise suitably dampened but spirits still high, Eagles of Death Metal take to the stage promising to deliver some rock n roll. What i know of this group
is tangenital at best. I believe their drummer toured with Peaches in front on NIN this summer. That band, Peaches, also had a key-tar player from Le Tigre, who I'd seen in Amsterdam back in the fall of '03. Still sounds like a thrash-rock band, not so much a fem-lib-left band. They didn't have much to remind you of The Eagles in their set. Maybe the Joe Walsh version of The Eagles. They seemed more like a cross between Sha-Na-Na and Metallica. They rocked. They rolled. They called the audience out repeatedly. Also delivered a decent cover of Brown Sugar. Like Buck 65 they had a harrowing tale to tell about almost being drowned in the SeaKing that transported them to the island. I'm beginning to hope the Raconteurs have spent some time at the local pool.
WISTA rating: If they were to open a show I was attending I'd definitely catch their set.
My son has been following the next band since the days they could not sell out the small Opera House venue in Toronto. They've found themselves a little niche on the alternative scene here. Think of an agitized Trent Reznor and you got the lead singer. A little melody buried in their songs but you have to search for it. With alexisonfire I anticipate a higher volume of more thrash-rock. Call it 'srceam-O'. Popular band on our alternative radio station their latest release was a #1 record in Canada upon release, just bumped from that spot by Bob Dylan's new offering, Modern Times. That's a different neighborhood than a half-filled basement. And that's what we got, scream-O extreme-O. Mike seemed to enjoy the set and if you can measure a band's worth by the fun their hardcore fans have at a concert, then these guys are big. They do have to work on their stage patter though. Find a way to be funny without denegrating something, or someone, else. It was mostly the rather rotund lead guitar player who took time to note the two things he hates most is: "white guys with dreadlocks and beach balls at a rock concert." Some people like beach-balls, there were hundreds floating around emblazooned with the Virgin label, I even picked one up as a memento. The next couple times he thought to fill some dead air with more dead air he was poking fun at French people and gay people. Now I'm pretty sure that gay, French, beach volleyball players with dreadlocks are not part of the demographic of their fanbase, but still, why alienate anybody? Unfortunately we miss their encore (who the f*ck does an encore at a festival?) while scurrying to beat the masses to the ferry. Not too disconcerting because you don't want to be late for this, the last of many lines for the evening, because it's one thing to bring 25,000 people THIS was over the course of 12 hours...quite another to move them THAT way when they all show up at once.
WISTA rating: Not unless their development takes them towards the likes of NIN.
Great end to a great day. Tomorrow it's all the headliners, most notably, The Raconteurs!
Friday, September 08, 2006
Virgin Festival
Toronto Islands
Sep.9/10,2006
Some guy from England decides he wants to push his 'ringtones' on this side of the ocean and he's throwing a two-day concert to promote them. SIR Richard Branson is a little full of himself and he's promised to bring us a rare treat. Of course he doesn't think the bar is set too high as hesays "You don’t have a lot of festivals of this sort of caliber in Toronto." Well, 'caliber' is subjective isn't it? He's planning on 40,000 attendees.Wonder if anyone gave any thought to that lake? This ain't Podunk, MR Branson, you'd best bring your "A game".
The Virgin Festival has been 10 years running in the UK. This year we get a lite Canadian version at the Toronto Islands. It' not lite on the number of bands or the number of days, it's just that the Baltimore one-day version got The Who and Red Hot Chili Peppers as headliners. We got Massive Attack and the Flaming Lips. When you're passing on a headliner to watch a band closing the side stage you know there just wasn't enough name recognition in that top billing act.
Which is not to disparage the Flaming Lips, they are well loved and even more important, well liked. My game plan involves capturing bands my sonlikes, more than following the bleating masses. Long as I don't miss the Raconteurs I can take all the Buck 65, MSTRKRFT and alexisonfire they canthrow at me.
(UPDATE: This does not bode well. The day before the festival Massive Attack was pulled from the schedule and replaced with local band, Broken SocialScene. This is wrong on so many counts. Right now they are taking the same set position, closing the festival by following The Raconteurs. Good news is:we'll be able to head for the ferry a little earlier than planned.)
MR Branson says they have to 'start small' in Canada, build up to something worthy of being a VFest. Man, if the people at the venue are as condescending as the organizer this is gonna suck all day long. If you think the faux-Royalty in Britain are snotty then you haven't met their flagship band, Radiodead, er, Radiohead, who have 'their people' at the Festival to "evaluat(e) the event to see if it’s worthy of their artists." Oh, please, let us not be worthy of those whining-fucks. The only thing they've ever done for me is cure my insomnia. If they'd have died in a plane crash after releasing the unexpurgatedversion of "Creep", they would be sub-culture gods. Alas, they didn't and we got the 'radio friendly' version and any balls the band may have had, disappeared.
Ironically, and I don't know how this happened, the V-Fester's have had only limited success in providing a good time over 'ome. Perhaps having Radiohead ANDMorrisey on the same bill is a little much for anyone to overcome. Add to that: not enough food, not enough bathrooms (why would you need BOTH?), notenough ATM's...etc, and you have a day in EMO hell. We've been promised these things have been addressed. Let's hope so.
The Virgin Festival has been 10 years running in the UK. This year we get a lite Canadian version at the Toronto Islands. It' not lite on the number of bands or the number of days, it's just that the Baltimore one-day version got The Who and Red Hot Chili Peppers as headliners. We got Massive Attack and the Flaming Lips. When you're passing on a headliner to watch a band closing the side stage you know there just wasn't enough name recognition in that top billing act.
Which is not to disparage the Flaming Lips, they are well loved and even more important, well liked. My game plan involves capturing bands my sonlikes, more than following the bleating masses. Long as I don't miss the Raconteurs I can take all the Buck 65, MSTRKRFT and alexisonfire they canthrow at me.
(UPDATE: This does not bode well. The day before the festival Massive Attack was pulled from the schedule and replaced with local band, Broken SocialScene. This is wrong on so many counts. Right now they are taking the same set position, closing the festival by following The Raconteurs. Good news is:we'll be able to head for the ferry a little earlier than planned.)
MR Branson says they have to 'start small' in Canada, build up to something worthy of being a VFest. Man, if the people at the venue are as condescending as the organizer this is gonna suck all day long. If you think the faux-Royalty in Britain are snotty then you haven't met their flagship band, Radiodead, er, Radiohead, who have 'their people' at the Festival to "evaluat(e) the event to see if it’s worthy of their artists." Oh, please, let us not be worthy of those whining-fucks. The only thing they've ever done for me is cure my insomnia. If they'd have died in a plane crash after releasing the unexpurgatedversion of "Creep", they would be sub-culture gods. Alas, they didn't and we got the 'radio friendly' version and any balls the band may have had, disappeared.
Ironically, and I don't know how this happened, the V-Fester's have had only limited success in providing a good time over 'ome. Perhaps having Radiohead ANDMorrisey on the same bill is a little much for anyone to overcome. Add to that: not enough food, not enough bathrooms (why would you need BOTH?), notenough ATM's...etc, and you have a day in EMO hell. We've been promised these things have been addressed. Let's hope so.
Sunday, July 23, 2006
The Amazing Junior Brown
at the Ottawa Blues Fest
After The M's had finished their set on the Main Stage we pick up our gear and move to the more cozy confines of one of three small stages that make up this Blues Fest.
Junior Brown comes to us out of Austin Texas and brings with him a little bit of authentic roots rock-a-billy, a drop of Tex-Mex, the odd nonsense song and straight ahead country. All this is propelled by his unique string stylings on his instrument of choice, a 'guit-steel'. This is a two-necked contraption with a red Fender Telecaster mounted on top of a steel-guitar. He deftly picks his slide from it's holder when he switches from one to the other.
On top of this he gets some terrific effects, Hendrix-like, out of his fuzz box. He's deft at the surf sound and you can hear a little of Duane Eddy and Link Wray in some of his more adventurous solos. A full orchestra coming from a single lead. He's joined by a one-drum drummer and a very adept bass player. Most songs evolve into some type of virtuoso display on the stringed instrument sitting atop a stand, center stage.
Oh, and there's an intelligent, if sometimes hokey, wit that I'm sure leaves most red-necks scratching their pate. He's country that non-country fans can like and modern country fans probably don't. Of course he comes to us from Austin via that hot-bed of country music, Kirksville, Indiana.
We've found some shade, some food and some drink and we're ready to be entertained. Fortunately, we came to the right place. Onstage is a man not too proud to be shamelessly joyous.
With little ado, not counting the local radio personality who feels compelled to come onstage before each act, the strange string contraption is in place and the show is moving forward sure as that Orange Blossom Special. Junior calls the audience out and his baritone voice if fast into a twang-fest called Broke Down South of Dallas. He fiddles some with his amp to get his sound just like he hears it in his head as he tells the story of bein' henpecked and lovin' it. "i got a wife with a fryin' pan/ and when she talks, i listen."
Party Lights tells a tale of a man avoiding the law while running with his demons. a little piece of fluff filled out admirably with some nimble picking.
Lifeguard Larry is the plaintive wail of every 90 lb weakling who has to watch the bronze adonis get the girl.
Apparently Junior did a cheezy video for My Wife Thinks You're Dead that has been hard to live down. I've never seen it but the song is funny and it's all there in the title. Sometimes you just gotta wear the albatross proudly. "I can see the kinda trouble you can get me in / you oughta pay attention to every word i said / you're wanted by the police and my wife thinks you're dead." It turns into a welcome excuse for a bluesy guitar solo. Reason enough to smile.
I Hung It Up is just a riff about the price you pay for love...and an excuse to let Junior go wild. a jumping jive exploration of strings and pedals. 8 minutes of impressive guitar and the closest this voice can come to singing scat.
The pace slows down with a gentle, swinging, Long Walk Back to San Antone. Junior's crooning and his voice invites you right up onto the porch to listen to his tale of travels... his wife's travels, that is, as she's out the door. Excellent bass line in support of yet another stellar guitar lead. The drummer is keeping time.
I Want To Live and Love Always gets us back on that runaway freight train, play-that-fast-thing one-more-time, swing. A song about the joys of having something to live for, "lovin' under the stars above." The answer may be blowin' in the wind but it's not that hard to discern.
Next is the highlight of the weekend. A Spanish song, the music sounds like a caliope, the mood like a carnival, the lyrics... I got no idea but it sounds wonderful. A cover of Jimenez Jose Alfredo's El Corrido Del Cabano Blanco, which translates rougly to The Run of the Lone White Horse. A convoluted tale of travel in the 3rd world before the days of the automobile. Or a classic folk tale of some sort. It doesn't matter, it sounds freakin' great.
Junior unleashes an extended instrumental medley backed by 'jungle' drums and showcasing that 'orange blossom special' twang.
A gool-ole-boys-only song in Highway Patrol, an homage to the man who wears "a star on (his) car and another one on (his)chest." He follows with another more traditional country tune, Ole Fashioned Love...coulda swore Loretta Lynn was gonna pop onstage to sing this one for us.
No country catalogue would be complete without a paeon to rugged individualism and Junior finds his in Freeborn Man. He almost yodels in this one. No matter, any reason for more extended guitar brilliance is fine.
Still with the traditional style country The Better Half pays some dues to the wife before the show closes with a 13 minute surf-medley instrumental that included Secret Agent Man in there somewhere.
Junior Brown is opening for Bob Dylan at a small town, minor league ballpark near you this summer.
Don't Dare Miss It!
Torrent might be running at DIMEADOZEN
Junior Brown comes to us out of Austin Texas and brings with him a little bit of authentic roots rock-a-billy, a drop of Tex-Mex, the odd nonsense song and straight ahead country. All this is propelled by his unique string stylings on his instrument of choice, a 'guit-steel'. This is a two-necked contraption with a red Fender Telecaster mounted on top of a steel-guitar. He deftly picks his slide from it's holder when he switches from one to the other.
On top of this he gets some terrific effects, Hendrix-like, out of his fuzz box. He's deft at the surf sound and you can hear a little of Duane Eddy and Link Wray in some of his more adventurous solos. A full orchestra coming from a single lead. He's joined by a one-drum drummer and a very adept bass player. Most songs evolve into some type of virtuoso display on the stringed instrument sitting atop a stand, center stage.Oh, and there's an intelligent, if sometimes hokey, wit that I'm sure leaves most red-necks scratching their pate. He's country that non-country fans can like and modern country fans probably don't. Of course he comes to us from Austin via that hot-bed of country music, Kirksville, Indiana.
We've found some shade, some food and some drink and we're ready to be entertained. Fortunately, we came to the right place. Onstage is a man not too proud to be shamelessly joyous.
With little ado, not counting the local radio personality who feels compelled to come onstage before each act, the strange string contraption is in place and the show is moving forward sure as that Orange Blossom Special. Junior calls the audience out and his baritone voice if fast into a twang-fest called Broke Down South of Dallas. He fiddles some with his amp to get his sound just like he hears it in his head as he tells the story of bein' henpecked and lovin' it. "i got a wife with a fryin' pan/ and when she talks, i listen."
Party Lights tells a tale of a man avoiding the law while running with his demons. a little piece of fluff filled out admirably with some nimble picking.
Lifeguard Larry is the plaintive wail of every 90 lb weakling who has to watch the bronze adonis get the girl.
Apparently Junior did a cheezy video for My Wife Thinks You're Dead that has been hard to live down. I've never seen it but the song is funny and it's all there in the title. Sometimes you just gotta wear the albatross proudly. "I can see the kinda trouble you can get me in / you oughta pay attention to every word i said / you're wanted by the police and my wife thinks you're dead." It turns into a welcome excuse for a bluesy guitar solo. Reason enough to smile.
I Hung It Up is just a riff about the price you pay for love...and an excuse to let Junior go wild. a jumping jive exploration of strings and pedals. 8 minutes of impressive guitar and the closest this voice can come to singing scat.
The pace slows down with a gentle, swinging, Long Walk Back to San Antone. Junior's crooning and his voice invites you right up onto the porch to listen to his tale of travels... his wife's travels, that is, as she's out the door. Excellent bass line in support of yet another stellar guitar lead. The drummer is keeping time.
I Want To Live and Love Always gets us back on that runaway freight train, play-that-fast-thing one-more-time, swing. A song about the joys of having something to live for, "lovin' under the stars above." The answer may be blowin' in the wind but it's not that hard to discern.
Next is the highlight of the weekend. A Spanish song, the music sounds like a caliope, the mood like a carnival, the lyrics... I got no idea but it sounds wonderful. A cover of Jimenez Jose Alfredo's El Corrido Del Cabano Blanco, which translates rougly to The Run of the Lone White Horse. A convoluted tale of travel in the 3rd world before the days of the automobile. Or a classic folk tale of some sort. It doesn't matter, it sounds freakin' great.
Junior unleashes an extended instrumental medley backed by 'jungle' drums and showcasing that 'orange blossom special' twang.
A gool-ole-boys-only song in Highway Patrol, an homage to the man who wears "a star on (his) car and another one on (his)chest." He follows with another more traditional country tune, Ole Fashioned Love...coulda swore Loretta Lynn was gonna pop onstage to sing this one for us.
No country catalogue would be complete without a paeon to rugged individualism and Junior finds his in Freeborn Man. He almost yodels in this one. No matter, any reason for more extended guitar brilliance is fine.
Still with the traditional style country The Better Half pays some dues to the wife before the show closes with a 13 minute surf-medley instrumental that included Secret Agent Man in there somewhere.
Junior Brown is opening for Bob Dylan at a small town, minor league ballpark near you this summer.
Don't Dare Miss It!
Torrent might be running at DIMEADOZEN
Ottawa Blues Fest
Sat July 15,2006
The M's
Our weekend in Ottawa was off to a great start. We'd stopped in on Ryan and Teri before she had to make her way to work and were checked into our room at the centrally located Novotel in plenty of time for dinner. An evening stroll assured us we were well situated for an easy walk into the BluesFest venue, located in the commons area of the City Hall plaza. The Parliament buildings were also within striking distance and our concert day started with breakfast in the wonderful, if touristy, By-Market Pedestrian Mall.
Plenty of time to get a 'glow on' before we stagger over for the first of what I hope will be four progressively exciting sets (The M's, Junior Brown, Roseanne Cash and Wilco). Early in the day we have greats but no shade, except for the umbrella we brought along in case of rain. Rain wasn't gonna be the issue today as a bright and hot sun is beating down on the assembled, but somewhat disinterested, throng. Our friend Mike takes a seat next to Cece as I look for a spot in front of the main PA stacks for The M's
They come out of Chicago...that's about the extent of their association with 'the blues'. Tangenital at best, as can be said of all our guests today. They promote themselves, or have been pigeon-holed, as an 'indie' band. 'Course that only means no one thinks you're good enough to have a record contract. It doesn't say much about the style of music. You expect something edgy though, something emerging from the primordial ooze that is a burgeoning underground scene not yet known to the mainstream outlets.
Or 40 minutes of post-glam/glitter rock.
Today they are flogging their new Polyvinyl Records release "Future Women" while still relying on material from their self-titled 2004 debut release on Brilliante Records.
None of that mattered to me, or my friends. Initial responses ranged from Mike's "bland and unoffensive", to my "nondescript, bordering on boring". Ryan and his posse voted with their feet, heading back to the hotel room for beers and lolli's. Cece was underwhelmed, if that's a word. (stole that from Sloan)
Perhaps we were a little harsh. Most of our tepid response had to do with the venue. It was early afternoon under a blistering hot sun and people were milling about, setting up chairs, blankets and whatnot, in preparation for a 6 hour wait for the headliners, Wilco. Not much focus in the crowd.
The rest of it probably had to do with the lack of a magnetic personality on the stage. The boys were making some small talk, commenting initially that they weren't all that bluesy. A couple jokes about the wide-open, unoccupied prime seating areas near the front didn't induce any life-threatening stage rush. The most sardonic comment came at show's end when the lead singer invited us back to the dressing room if we were looking to purchase a signed copy of Jeff Tweedy's boxers. It's not that the anticipation for the closing set was palpable (it wasn't), it was more that the disinterest in the opening sets was hard to miss. If the band hopes to fill any void left by the demise of T-Rex, Ziggy Stardust or even Bryan Ferry, they'd best find a way to be more visually compelling...perhaps movement would suffice. But like I said, it was hot.
You might be wondering about the music by now, or not. I'll give it a try but my exposure to the band is limited, so apologies if I slam their epics and blow their filler.
Set opens with Never Do This Again, a song about fiery flames that burn out when you've pushed your limits on the party train. a pounding, almost plodding riff, nothing too spectacular.
Going Over It tries to find a groove as the band stretches out with melody, harmonies and a recognizable bridge! This might be a single. It just shouldn't be the first one.
Shawnee Dupree screams out, the guitar intro backed by a 'swamp music' rhythm line. The song sets you down in a shadowy world, evocative of the Bayou. The guitar cries throughout the song, mostly in the background of the verses, but a consistent melodic thread the whole tune is wrapped around.
The band moves back to their first release for Holding Up, a choppy, pop tune. They have an interesting effect going on when the song changes tempo. Each shift sounds like a tape-deck slipping, the notes extend and wobble.
Back to the new record for My Gun, a thick sounding song and I couldn't wade through the muddy sound to find a point. If I had this on vinyl I'd play it backwards as that Sgt.Peppery-stretchy thing is still going on.
Future Women, title track, gets us back to the harmonies, a strength of this band. A dreamy, lilting song more reminiscent of Brian Eno than Seals&Croft... but not by much. Just when you think they've explored this style as far as they can there's another verse, but one that degenerates into a final couplet that consists of humming noises, so maybe it had been explored to it's full extent. oooops, not done yet, repeat refrain and batter drums to outro.
Can't figure out the title of the next song but we're back to the Tony Jo White swamp-sound and a car tune, so it's not all bad.
Two more songs from the first album: Maggie, a little hint of the Kinks in this one. a ringing rhythm guitar gives the song some bounce. For a second there, I thought I saw something move. Dirty Old Dog was as confusing as it was forgettable. Back to the muddy sound (ftr, muddy = bad, swamp = good) with the tape whining sound.
The show closes with two strong songs: Plan of the Man has them back in their pop-mold. A quick three-minute romp, played fast, good beat, you could dance to it. Very good tune, it will be the single.
The show closes with a 6 minute mini epic, primarily an instrumental with a chant of 'you can start it all over' added on to the end, I believe it's called Darling Lucia and it's nothing if not ambitious.
They've got stuff to work on but they seem to have plenty to work with. I hear the album is much more 'produced', including horns and other instruments. Not sure that would make it better, I think they should keep it simple until they find their sound, clear away the mud, it's in there somewhere.
There might be a torrent running at DIMEADOZEN
Next up: Junior Brown, Roseanne Cash, Wilco, a week on the Fundy Coast and a visit to Stephen King's hometown.
Plenty of time to get a 'glow on' before we stagger over for the first of what I hope will be four progressively exciting sets (The M's, Junior Brown, Roseanne Cash and Wilco). Early in the day we have greats but no shade, except for the umbrella we brought along in case of rain. Rain wasn't gonna be the issue today as a bright and hot sun is beating down on the assembled, but somewhat disinterested, throng. Our friend Mike takes a seat next to Cece as I look for a spot in front of the main PA stacks for The M's
They come out of Chicago...that's about the extent of their association with 'the blues'. Tangenital at best, as can be said of all our guests today. They promote themselves, or have been pigeon-holed, as an 'indie' band. 'Course that only means no one thinks you're good enough to have a record contract. It doesn't say much about the style of music. You expect something edgy though, something emerging from the primordial ooze that is a burgeoning underground scene not yet known to the mainstream outlets.
Or 40 minutes of post-glam/glitter rock.
Today they are flogging their new Polyvinyl Records release "Future Women" while still relying on material from their self-titled 2004 debut release on Brilliante Records.
None of that mattered to me, or my friends. Initial responses ranged from Mike's "bland and unoffensive", to my "nondescript, bordering on boring". Ryan and his posse voted with their feet, heading back to the hotel room for beers and lolli's. Cece was underwhelmed, if that's a word. (stole that from Sloan)
Perhaps we were a little harsh. Most of our tepid response had to do with the venue. It was early afternoon under a blistering hot sun and people were milling about, setting up chairs, blankets and whatnot, in preparation for a 6 hour wait for the headliners, Wilco. Not much focus in the crowd.
The rest of it probably had to do with the lack of a magnetic personality on the stage. The boys were making some small talk, commenting initially that they weren't all that bluesy. A couple jokes about the wide-open, unoccupied prime seating areas near the front didn't induce any life-threatening stage rush. The most sardonic comment came at show's end when the lead singer invited us back to the dressing room if we were looking to purchase a signed copy of Jeff Tweedy's boxers. It's not that the anticipation for the closing set was palpable (it wasn't), it was more that the disinterest in the opening sets was hard to miss. If the band hopes to fill any void left by the demise of T-Rex, Ziggy Stardust or even Bryan Ferry, they'd best find a way to be more visually compelling...perhaps movement would suffice. But like I said, it was hot.
You might be wondering about the music by now, or not. I'll give it a try but my exposure to the band is limited, so apologies if I slam their epics and blow their filler.
Set opens with Never Do This Again, a song about fiery flames that burn out when you've pushed your limits on the party train. a pounding, almost plodding riff, nothing too spectacular.
Going Over It tries to find a groove as the band stretches out with melody, harmonies and a recognizable bridge! This might be a single. It just shouldn't be the first one.
Shawnee Dupree screams out, the guitar intro backed by a 'swamp music' rhythm line. The song sets you down in a shadowy world, evocative of the Bayou. The guitar cries throughout the song, mostly in the background of the verses, but a consistent melodic thread the whole tune is wrapped around.
The band moves back to their first release for Holding Up, a choppy, pop tune. They have an interesting effect going on when the song changes tempo. Each shift sounds like a tape-deck slipping, the notes extend and wobble.
Back to the new record for My Gun, a thick sounding song and I couldn't wade through the muddy sound to find a point. If I had this on vinyl I'd play it backwards as that Sgt.Peppery-stretchy thing is still going on.
Future Women, title track, gets us back to the harmonies, a strength of this band. A dreamy, lilting song more reminiscent of Brian Eno than Seals&Croft... but not by much. Just when you think they've explored this style as far as they can there's another verse, but one that degenerates into a final couplet that consists of humming noises, so maybe it had been explored to it's full extent. oooops, not done yet, repeat refrain and batter drums to outro.
Can't figure out the title of the next song but we're back to the Tony Jo White swamp-sound and a car tune, so it's not all bad.
Two more songs from the first album: Maggie, a little hint of the Kinks in this one. a ringing rhythm guitar gives the song some bounce. For a second there, I thought I saw something move. Dirty Old Dog was as confusing as it was forgettable. Back to the muddy sound (ftr, muddy = bad, swamp = good) with the tape whining sound.
The show closes with two strong songs: Plan of the Man has them back in their pop-mold. A quick three-minute romp, played fast, good beat, you could dance to it. Very good tune, it will be the single.
The show closes with a 6 minute mini epic, primarily an instrumental with a chant of 'you can start it all over' added on to the end, I believe it's called Darling Lucia and it's nothing if not ambitious.
They've got stuff to work on but they seem to have plenty to work with. I hear the album is much more 'produced', including horns and other instruments. Not sure that would make it better, I think they should keep it simple until they find their sound, clear away the mud, it's in there somewhere.
There might be a torrent running at DIMEADOZEN
Next up: Junior Brown, Roseanne Cash, Wilco, a week on the Fundy Coast and a visit to Stephen King's hometown.
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