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The basement of Toronto’s Sonic Boom record shop usually isn’t too busy. There might be a few hipsters searching tirelessly through the vinyl section and some dude fingering through the old cassette tapes, but nothing like when the shop hosts a concert. Sonic Boom doesn’t usually invite chumps to play, so you know that donating a canned good (the price of admission) will be worth it. Fresh from a trip to Asia, Great Lake Swimmers played a warm-up show to their Feb. 6 gig on Sonic Boom’s tiny basement stage. As usual, Sonic Boom had a packed crowd who overflowed onto the stairs. Folk rock troubadour Tony Dekker and company were playing in support of their most recent album, Lost Channels. The band delighted the crowd with some choice picks from the new record including the newest crowd-favourite “Palmistry” (which you can check out a video of on YouTube). It’s nice to see Dekker using his band more these days — something that was obviously a focus on Lost Channels. Great Lake Swimmers finally sound like a band, not just a like a wandering musician with a distant and nearly invisible cast. An upright bass and a banjo are an excellent addition to Dekker’s refined and folky — Joe Veroni
If Ollie, the older of the Pigott brothers, was channeling Elvis as evidenced by his bodily gyrations during his performance at the Cameron House, younger sibling Sebastian alternated between emulating a lovesick downtrodden bluesman in the vein of Muddy Waters, and paying homage to the legacy of M.J., when guitar-less. While the brotherly similarities were many and distinct (they included, among other things, a characteristic head turn to the left when belting sustained notes, along with a guitar stance which drew upon classical holding technique while positioning the instrument on the torso at Beatles-esque height), there was a certain rawness and vulnerability in the younger of the duo’s performance not apparent in his more accomplished musical counterpart. In fact, this distinction between the two brothers’ songwriting and performance styles kinda reminded me of what happens all too often when an indie band makes the transition between their debut and sophomore effort, and a label gets involved. i.e.: while the debut represents the bare-bones organic straight-up feel of the band without any mediating influences, the sophomore effort, while attempting to maintain a semblance of the original so as to not lose the act’s fanbase, ends up coming out too polished, too perfected, and too constructed for mainstream radio. In this analogy, picture Sebastian as the original unfettered rock band, and Ollie as the overproduced carbon copy of everything that’s currently popular on Top 40 radio. In Ollie’s defense however, there was label and media presence at the gig, which may, in part, have accounted for his “trying to hard” antics. Ollie’s solo finale of, “Our Generation”, did manage to redeem him in a major way, however, in my eyes; at least he saved the best for last, or to draw upon another entertainment cliché, he certainly went out with a bang. The highlight of the night was, without a doubt, when the two came together. As one bystander phrased it, “when Ollie and Sebastian are joined onstage, what they produce is magical.” Energetic, emotional, and playful with just the right balance between crowd interaction (which included humourous interjections about how mom constructed their setlist, audience-syncopated clapping, as well as an attempted sing-a-long with a highly inebriated diehard fan who was undoubtedly still intoxicated from the night prior), and serious musicianship, though the venue was not ideal, nor am I a fan of their “scene” per se (imagine a Beatnik-inspired poetry room still decked out in its original décor from the 60s, and filled to the max with audience members who you can be certain are more than a little familiar with various mind-altering substances), The Pigott Brothers certainly know how to put on an entertaining show. — Rose Cora Perry
John, Paul, George and Ringo walk on stage to the delight of a packed Shea Stadium and fifty thousand females lose their shit. Flashbulbs explode and the screams are deafening. Three girls in the first row drop their drawers and commence with the self-abuse. Only I’m not in Shea Stadium but Toronto’s Legendary Horseshoe Tavern; and The Beatles are nowhere to be seen. However, there is another English bloke on stage: Frank Turner. He’s less a musician to this packed crowd than an iconic sex-magnate. It’s hard to believe that Turner is only the second act of the evening and that there are two more bands yet to play — but make no mistake, he is most definitely the headliner. Turner looks like The Boss, circa Darkness on the Edge of Town and dozens of digital cameras eat him up all show long. From his opening banter — “Hello Toronto! It’s a fucking pleasure!” — the audience was captured. They were sold not only by his jovial cursing, but by his presence. And it was easy to see why. Turner blends his punk rock roots with a folky acoustic style and tops it all off with a charming smile and charismatic banter that the audience (especially the XX-chromosomes) just couldn’t get enough of. Case and point, Turner requested help in the form of a harmonica solo from the audience and there was no shortage of hands in the air. He choose a blonde dame with no harmonica experience but fret not, “You breathe in,” Turner instructs, “you breathe out. You go left and right; you sound like Bob Dylan.” The solo wasn’t all bad either and the crowd dug it thoroughly. For the full hour’s set, Turner sang with enough conviction to draw cheers not only for his gentle strumming but his aggressive vocal style. The crowd itself mimicked the troubadour’s multi-faceted technique. It was an eclectic group ranging from screaming girls wearing pink Fila to leather-clad thugs who look like the only ballad they’ve ever enjoyed was Sid Vicious doing “My Way.” What they all had in common was the wide-range of fans were all enthralled from the opening strumming to the bitter end of the show and it didn’t seem like anybody left the show disappointed. If any ladies want the panties that they tossed on stage returned, they should write to Frank Turner who keeps a dumpster-sized lost-and-found for discarded skivvies — but I doubt they’ve been washed. — Joe Veroni
By the time One Hundred Dollars took the stage, the Horseshoe was ram-packed with eager city-slicker country fans clad in plaid. Someone beside me complained, “nobody in this joint is even country,” which is true and begged the question of why the Toronto music scene is so hot on a wide-variety of country music right now. The question faded from mind as Simone Schmidt’s incredible voice cut through a nearly ridiculous amount of smoke that’s been pumped on stage like a bonfire had gotten completely out of control. The audience was riveted from note one by One Hundred Dollars’ authentic sound and I can’t help but think they would have been blown away by the two opening acts had they just made it inside a few hours earlier. One Hundred Dollars was playing in support of their new seven inch, My Father’s House. To the crowd’s delight, they played the new tune along with a truckload of old favourites and even threw in a cover of “Willin” by Little Feat. For fans of authentic country sounds, One Hudred Dollars is not to be missed — but judging by the Horseshoe’s packed crowd you already know that. — Joe Veroni
Lonesome Ace Stringband Those who showed up to The Legendary Horseshoe Tavern early enough had already been treated to Stripmall Ballads and were in for another strong act as the Lonesome Ace Stringband took the stage. The venue was maybe half-full as Toronto concert-goers aren’t too keen on seeing a band they haven’t seen before or that their hipster friends haven’t recommended. But those who were inside the Horseshoe by 11 p.m. got a dose of old-time country from a local trio. Lonesome Ace Stringband usually haunt the Silver Dollar Room but fit right in opening for One Hundred Dollars. John Showman punished his fiddle for the entire set as the audience waited for smoke to start steaming off the fiddle’s strings. Max Heineman plays upright bass for the band and keeps everything together as Chris Coole plays guitar and banjo. The trio looked as if they’d be comfortable playing on the tiniest of stages as they all huddled around one mic to sing their gospel songs. It’s hard to get much information on the band as they stick to their old-time guns — this means no website and no MySpace. It has to be hard to get your band noticed without our time’s most influential medium but Lonesome Ace Stringband are making a go on nothing but talent and hard work. — Joe Veroni
Hollerado, gang of lovable scamps by day and indie rock gods by night, took 2009 by its throat. This dying year saw them all over the place: China (more than once, they’re now practically locals), South America, Montreal, New York, Boston, Hamilton, Ottawa (where they won $250,000 by being the greater thans in competition) opening for the Dead Weather, digitally releasing Record in a Bag, and some heres and theres between. How could they go wrong, then, returning triumphantly to the Horseshoe to play between The Order of Good Cheer and Arkells? A lesser band would have screwed it up somehow. But Hollerado made absolutely no wrongs, only rights. No doubt exhausted (having returned from China mere hours earlier), Menno Versteeg, Dean Baxter, and Jake and Nixon Boyd are no slaves to sleep. The tightness of their playing betrayed the intense schedule they’ve been riding halfway around the world. And yet, their more practised set did nothing to betray the band’s spontaneity. Even after drummer Jake Boyd mouthed the words “I don’t know this part” in the middle of “Do the Doot Da Doot Do,” he pulled off every beat with aplomb. He also pulled off his pants, but that’s a different story (underneath were pajama pants he had apparently been wearing for a week, which added a whole other layer of je ne sais quoi to the proceedings). The boys (and Boyd) wielding vintage guitars were having as much fun as a hipster on coke, stopping in the middle of the set to commemorate the holidaze with a singalong “Happy Birthday” to Jesus. Fun Fact: Charm-o-meters go up to 11 in HolleradoLand. “Fake Drugs,” often a favourite for its delicate desperation and bittersweet bounce, became a highlight when Versteeg pulled some surely anonymous girls (hey look, it’s sarcasm o’clock already!) out of the crowd to sing backup. Speaking of the crowd, the band’s success appears to be directly proportional to the number of photographers in the front row (many), drunken teenagers (too many from my ol’ high school), and extremely drunken adults (at least one too many). All, still, were captivated by the music. The band’s palpable joy at producing it matched ours at witnessing it, and the ensuing cheeriness was, while festive, probably nauseating. On December 22, Hollerado smashed the end off this banner year, and got us dancing on top of it — just for good measure. Here, all the way down here, is the point: if you don’t have “Americanarama,” “Got to Lose” or “Fake Drugs” stuck in your head yet, you might be living in a bag. — Sally Walker Hudecki
It was obvious that the band wasn’t quite comfortable with the live atmosphere. They were more concerned with getting their stage legs back on and unleashing their ethereal sounds in studio quality. If this was the band’s goal then they succeeded at the Legendary Horseshoe Tavern.
If you’re a fan of Codes and Secret Longing then you’ll know what I mean. And if you are indeed a fan of Raised by Swans then you won’t be disappointed by their darker and more sprawling sophomore effort, No Ghostless Place. — Joe Veroni
He was a questionable sort when he was younger and it would seem that his demeanor has become even more explosive and offensive as he’s aged. Andre Williams made his name decades ago, releasing numerous R&B singles and becoming famous for semi-novelty tunes like “Bacon Fat” and “Jailbait.” His predatorial growl and sleazy personality has kept him on the outskirts of mainstream success his entire life. He slipped into obscurity and went through some seriously dark times but began to reach a new audience in the ’90s, releasing new material with younger artists who owe much of their sleazy sound to the man who calls himself The Black Godfather. Knowing when to level out the craziness with some more traditional sounds is what makes Williams a real pro though, singing tracks like “Proud Mary” with complete sincerity. Now he may be a little too old for any extreme dance moves but those little steps and fist pumps — that alternating pain and conviction in his voice — these are the factors that put Williams on a level of showmanship with the best of them. As the back up vocals confidently proclaimed on one choice track, Williams is indeed “a bad mutherfucker.” — Daniel Demois Photos: Katie Demois
In support of his directorial debut, The BQE, and Run Rabbit Run, Sufjan Stevens decided to have a small intimate tour. Considering the Lee’s Palace date sold out in under an hour, it was not surprising that the lineup was from Lee’s Palace all the way to Sushi on Bloor, but considering the weather, finally getting into the show was the best part. Cryptacize started the night and it was one of their best shows to date. Their set was very highly energetic and the crowd really got into it right off the bat. Nedelle Torrisi’s vocals were lovely for “Tail and Maine.” Her stage presence and fun dance moves really put the audience in the mood. When their set was over, Stevens began setting up and about four women started howling, which was one of many interesting crowd moments for the night. Stevens’ Cub Scout outfit with multi-coloured wings did not make this show but instead he rocked a red toque over a baseball cap, which was just as cool. Stevens was joined by a full band, which included Torrisi. The first half of Stevens’ set was all new material that was very well received. The first new song, “Impossible Soul,” was beautiful. The horn section meshed wonderfully into Stevens’ calm banjo playing. Stevens told the crowd that most of the songs were very long (most songs were almost 10 minutes) but nobody seemed to be too concerned with that. Torrisi’s angelic vocals may be enough to put indie songbirds like Dirty Projectors’ Angel Deradoorian on notice. Her vibrato soaked folk harmonies gave this new song a lot of soul and her chemistry with Stevens on stage was beautiful. After a half hour of Stevens’ new “experiments,” the second half of the set took a trip through all of his musical gems; including “Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head (Rebuild, Restore, Reconsider),” which everyone sung along too. Stevens jokingly dedicated “The Dress Looks Nice on You” to all the ladies. He also joked about needing a guitar tech afterwards, which two ladies were happy to lie and say they were. All Stevens’ reactions to the crowd’s banter were very cute and awkward, which made every one of those moments very funny. The two-hour set ended with a beautiful rendition of “Chicago.” Afterwards, Stevens returned for an encore, performing the very powerful “John Wayne Gacy.” The night concluded with “Too Much Love.” This new song channels Miles Davis, according to Stevens, but in a way that’s more upbeat jazz. The song undoubtedly was the most intense of the new tracks and ended the night on the best note. Stevens told the crowd that it was honour to return to Toronto but for anyone who was in attendance that night, it was more of a privilege to have witnessed the return of one of the most amazing songwriters of our time. — Max Mohenu
Karin Dreijer Andersson sent shockwaves through the music world when her Fever Ray side project was revealed. The debut album takes you through leaps and bounds, with the same mystique that made The Knife so incredible both musically and aesthetically. The show started out with Finnish newcomer Vuk. This beauty’s unique blend of melodic chamber pop infused with haunted church organ was sultry, intriguing and just damn spooky. Her lovely voice carried through the room and her music was so well received that many show goers were inspired to do interpretive dance during her set, which was funny to watch. The setup for Fever Ray’s set was very lame because they decided to turn on the fog machine, which was cool, but you could hardly breathe in there. As soon as the laser light show, flashing lampshades and crazy shaman’s from the “Seven” music video appeared on stage, you could feel the energy in the room change completely. Andersson graced the stage in a rotting organic corps, which she wore for the first half of the set. She took it off during “Dry and Dusty,” only to reveal very interesting face paint. All the songs were each complimented with a different special effect on stage, which made them all so amazing. What made the show a hit is the level of precision put into the way each song would be performed. A lot of fans definitely were in another world, which is how you feel when you first hear the record. Andersson definitely wanted to give her fans a live version of her self-titled debut and for anyone who was a Knife fan and new Fever Ray fan; this spectacle will go down as the most amazing show in Kool Haus history. Andersson’s dramatic exit will not be soon forgotten. — Max Mohenu
A lot of hype around Swedish band Miike Snow stems from them opening for Lykke Li this summer. The Wrongbar show was their chance to live up to much of that hype and they didn’t do too badly. The night started with Jack Peñate. Peñate’s set was very fun, but also kind of sloppy at times. The 24-year-old London native appeared drunk during most of the set and could’ve delivered a lot more that a few quirky dance moves. The current single, “Be the One,” was crisp and full of high energy, which may have redeemed Peñate a bit to the crowd. Peñate’s R&B-soaked vocals gave the song a different feel live than on the record, which was great. Miike Snow came on shortly after and immediately got the crowd going. The beginning of their set was really mellow. Their stage presence was unlike any other; lead singer Andrew Wyatt’s vocals carry a different essence that makes their emotional songs a bit more intriguing. Near the end, the set got a little boring, mainly because the songs were a bit drawn out. However, the crowd stayed consistently into it and a lot of people were hoping for an encore. Unfortunately, it didn’t happen. — Max Mohenu
During Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ performance of “Zero” — the single from their newest album, It’s Blitz! — Karen O slipped on a leather jacket with “KO” spelled out in studs on the back. Surely a more appropriate set of initials have never been, for the Yeah Yeah Yeahs show at Kool Haus was a sweet, sucker-punch knockout. They followed opener Amanda Blank, whose last name sadly describes the crowd for most of her set; the loudest cheers she garnered were when she brought up the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. Before they went on, there was plenty of time for the well-behaved, all-ages crowd to examine the backdrop: a glittery, almost-rainbow of concentric half-circles anchored by a conspicuous white balloon. There was much speculation that the balloon was not long for this world, soon to be burst out of by a rampaging Karen O. How ignorant we were, as though anything about the Yeah Yeah Yeahs would come as expected. After they took the stage and began with the gorgeous and somewhat tame “Runaway,” the excitement gathered when the balloon (and our expectations) was turned around to reveal that it was, in fact, a giant eyeball. Later, during the theatrical “Skeletons,” the balloon, through the wonders of projection, became a shadowy moon. The band was in full force, playing much of their older stuff to the drooling, thrilled crowd. Brian Chase looked happy as a clam on the drum set and as well he should, because his drumming was flawless. Nick Zinner was, as always, like an infinitely more dexterous Edward Scissorhands. Karen O was, by turns, a grinning whirling dervish and a Ziggy Stardust-esque rock star paradigm with a microphone in her mouth and a scarf over her face. The sound and lighting especially were magnificent and confirmed the well-rehearsed feeling of the entire show. Possibly the best thing about the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, as I realized last night while drowning in hipster sweat, is that they are sitting at the perfect intersection between art, music, theatricality, and honest in-the-moment improvisation. When that balloon was turned so as to be plain white, it was a simple stand-alone visual device, just as the Yeah Yeah Yeahs albums are examples of exceptionally done vulnerable and raw music. Then it was turned towards us, and in an instant the balloon became an eye and an artistic statement; as we were riveted by their performance, they were watching us. Later, the balloon was turned back to white and projected upon, adding to the atmosphere and creating a beautiful image. Karen O’s stage antics were over the top, expected by now, and theatrical; the silver “Y” confetti that flew at the end of the encore was definitely more ostentatious than essential to their performance. But neither is a genuine artistic statement, and neither is their showmanship. They’re still genuinely talented musicians who make consistently engaging, original music and if Karen O’s grin was anything to judge by, the band absolutely loves it. And so do we. The Yeah Yeah Yeahs are never going to be what you expect, and in that way always going to be what you want. — Sally Walker Hudecki
I can’t shake the feeling that I do not know what happened at the Horseshoe Tavern. Here is what I do know: The Dead Weather played. It was packed, sweaty, airless. There had been people waiting since 9 a.m. to get a wristband and the system for getting in was convoluted, seemingly designed to make everyone who made it feel exceptionally lucky, even before they went on. As if anyone hasn’t yet heard, The Dead Weather is comprised of Alison Mosshart (of The Kills), Dean Fertita (of Queens of the Stone Age), Jack Lawrence (of The Raconteurs and The Greenhornes), and none other than Mr. Jack White III (of The White Stripes and The Raconteurs). It was like being inside a thunderstorm. The lights, kept low and cold, occasionally and briefly swung up, lightning-like, to reveal the whites around Mosshart’s irises, unblinking and cut through with locks of her long black hair. Lawrence’s bass was thunderous but distinct, each note pulsing, while Fertita’s guitar flickered blisteringly through the club. It was electrically-charged from beginning to end. Even the roadies setting up the stage were part of the performance, each wearing black suits with dark blue shirts fedoras, setting up the breathtaking, exquisite white Gretsch guitars, each adorned on the gold pickguards with a strange symbol, the combination of Jack White’s “|||” and James Bond’s 007 pistol. White’s drum kit, set up low to the ground, so that his entire torso was visible, was streaked in black and gray and the kick drum was covered in an eerie black and white photograph of three women. I know they were performing for us because of the moments when it broke, like Mosshart’s sudden smile when she unexpectedly knocked over her mic stand and drink at the beginning of the set. Easily composed, White carried on the vocals, and Mosshart was back into her swaying, convulsing, writhing trance. If the sound had been completely removed, an ambulance could reasonably have been called for her at several points during the set and no paramedic would have denied her medical attention. In the alleyway after show, Mosshart was friendly and coy, almost completely irreconcilable with her devilish singing presence.
The mood never wavered but only heightened, especially when White stood up from his drum kit to play and sing one song on guitar. Lawrence took over the drums, and Mosshart sang with White, their voices merging together into a single, vulnerable, howl. They magnetically attracted and repulsed across the microphone, achieving a singular, thrilling sexual tension, all messy black hair and pale faces. His guitar solo brought the room to a fever pitch, everyone panting for more, sweating, straining towards him. Then, just like a hot summer thunderstorm, just when it was too much, just after his solo had brought everyone to a complete musical orgasm, they were off. Drained as we were, with feedback playing over an empty stage, we called them back for the encore, like they knew we would. But no matter how well I know those things, right there in front of the stage—there was still something about it that whispered into every single person’s ear, cutting quietly under the feedback. That is what I don’t know. I don’t know if it said, “this is just a show. They are entertainers and they know what they are doing to us.” It might have. It might have also said, “these people are barely human, barely mortal. They are doing something that has not yet been invented. This sound you are hearing is not something that has been witnessed before.” Maybe that is it, what we all learned, those that can count ourselves lucky for being there. Maybe it is that The Dead Weather are the teasing, knowing gatekeepers on the fault line between mortal and supernatural, the cracks that jump, over time, into everyone’s sanity, standing between what we can name and call “art” and “entertainment” and what we cannot yet name, but only wordlessly experience. - Sally Walker Hudecki
It’s been just over two years since Dave Bidini and his fellow Rheostatics drew the curtain on their many years as the most Canadian band ever. This of course has left something of a black hole in the heart of Canadian music. Dave Bidini’s show at the Horseshoe Tavern was a reason for celebration in this respect. The CD release of his new album under the name Bidiniband brought Rheos’ fans back together at the familiar Horseshoe Tavern where that former group had played many times. If you had attended any of the later Rheostatics shows, or Bidini’s October/November residency at the Cameron House, you would already be familiar with many of the songs that Bidiniband would be busting out late this Saturday eve. Those weekly Cameron House shows seemed to serve as practice time for the band, fine tuning many of the new songs for the album, and by the time the group (Bidini, Paul Linklater on guitar, Doug Friesen on bass, and Don Kerr on drums) arrived at the Horseshoe, the songs were fully formed rock anthems.
The Bidiniband song “We Like to Rock” is something of a mission statement for this new group, emphasizing their back to basics, crowd pleasing intentions. The group has created a setlist that harkens back to the seventies, with big dramatic riffs complimenting Bidini’s often scathing, and sometimes downright bitter lyrics. Watching these middle-aged men playing such guitar heavy tunes verges on parody but there is no doubt that they are sincerely having a good time. This group does not take itself too seriously and just wants audience members to submit to the simple pleasures of rock and roll with them. Back to the Canadian content. These songs are ripe with it. The new album, The Land is Wild, takes it’s name from the showcase song of the night, which is about Bryan Fogarty, a young hockey phenom who self-destructed at a young age. Only Dave Bidini can sing a serious song about hockey that is this emotionally involving. “Do you dream of winter in the summertime?” he queries on the chorus that was featured on Hockey Night in Canada (the emblem of which is sewed
While perhaps Bidini’s new music doesn’t quite meet the ambitious majesty of his former band, the entire audience was pleased to see the man up there still able to write great tunes, and put on a terrific show. - Daniel Demois
Associated with his lively stage presence for more than ten years now, we were all curious to see how Joel Plaskett would alter his barroom jams to accommodate a major historical showcase. Shifting from playing locales where loud is more to tightly packed audiences, (No offence Horseshoe! You’re legendary!) Plaskett would finally bring his brand of power pop to a larger capacity in a pitch perfect hall. With a history that includes Canadian icons Neil Young and Gordon Lightfoot, a Massey Hall appearance would put the young man in none too shameful company. Taking the stage in his skinny jeans and plaid shirt, Plaskett opened up the largely acoustic first set with a nice ode to the great Hall, which moved into opener “Happen Now“ from his La De Da album. The largely acoustic first set would focus primarily on the new Three album. The only notable beats were courtesy of Plaskett’s miniature “value village” keyboard, which the man claimed carried a rhythm more successfully than any church organ on the tour circuit. Adding to the ho-down hulaballoo feel of the set, both assistant vocalists Anna Egge (keen on synchro back-up dancing) and Rose Cousins (not so much) were given the opportunity to sing a track from their own quietly pleasing country catalogue. Joel’s father Bill Plaskett played rhythm guitar for the majority of the set and also sang along on a moving rendition of “Nothing More to Say” which Joel insisted was “no reflection of their experience touring together.” This was all well and good, in the same way things on a Plaskett recording are always well and good until you hear superior live renditions. Not until he got on stage for a rocking good second set did things really heat up. Mr. Pankiw-Petty informs me that Joel always has a theme sandwiching his sets. Tonight kicks off the second set with a story about his earless cat White Fang that resembles an unfortunate baby seal. This amusing ramble on the creature cat led into an electric set that opened with some Truthfully, Truthfully tracks, immediately getting Massey on its feet. Clearly excited to be playing in this venue, The Emergency band delivered on the promise to beef up Plaskett’s fresh triple album. With his convincing delivery of astute lyrics, and herky jerky leg moves, Plaskett led the group through at least half of Three’s tracks, earning cheers and causing joyful shivers, with band members coming on and off stage frequently, sometimes mid song. The timing of the whole thing was pitch perfect. When a roadie seemed to be slightly in the wrong, Plaskett corrected him with East Canadian ease, exhibiting the most likable demeanor in Massey history. In a few years, the acoustic country intentions of the opening set will come through, but for now Plaskett seems way too at ease as the leader of a terrific rock outfit. Whether singing alone with his guitar or with the full band, which was upwards of eight members by the end of things, audience participation was pleasantly initiated by audience members. Clapping and singing was required rather than requested, elevating stripped down renditions of “Nowhere With You” and “A Million Dollars” from simple pub sing a longs to cross country anthems. The entirely audience sung “Love This Town “ hit home with it’s Massey Hall references, which the Easterner guiltily admitted change per town for laughs and crowd approval. An inspired rendition of” Fashionable People “ had Plaskett singing falsetto while on drums and the epic “On & On & On” closed the three-hour show that felt only one hour old. As the song ended, Plaskett brought the set full circle coming back to the cat White Fang rant, bringing up the lights as he did, revealing a high energy Massey crowd, clapping in time, and singing along. - Daniel Demois
Fall Out Boy have a reputation of being one of the most polarizing bands today. At their Toronto show, they took it a step further by performing on the same night as the AP tour, forcing their hoodie-loving demographic to splice its previously united front. This resulted in spottily-filled seats and only one-third of the floor covered with junior high/high school girls in band T-shirts and tight jeans. The crowd was not the only thing that got the cut that night; it looked like the budget had as well. Fall Out Boy’s tour for their previous album, Infinity on High, included giant screens and pyrotechnics, whereas during this show, mini-screens book-ended the drum-set and a decent lightshow replaced the popping flames. As half a dozen sirens flashed and wailed on stage, the boys punctually made their grand entrance escorted by S.W.A.T.-esque troops and dressed as what appeared to be Republican senators in gray suits. Vocalist/guitarist Patrick Stump even sported a gray wig and bassist/frontman Pete Wentz’s usually coiffed emo hair was slicked back. The set included five songs from their latest album, Folie à Deux, and mostly singles from their previous albums. “How many of you have our new album?” Wentz asked the crowd. “I don’t care how you got it, as long as you got it.” After their third song, “Sugar, We’re Going Down,” the band changed into more casual attire for the remainder of their hour and a half set as a video of Wentz undressing while his band-mates snacked played on the screens. Not too long after, all but the drummer traded their instruments for light-up ones solely for their number “I Don’t Care.” “I think the worst thing I ever learned when I left high school was that high school goes on forever and ever. Losers stay losers forever and bullies become Canadian border guards,” Wentz said. When Wentz turned the show over to Stump, Stump could only decree, “Hi, I’m Patrick,” before mumbling comparisons between the CN Tower and the Sears Tower. “Folie à Deux” means “a madness shared by two,” and describes a certain psychiatric syndrome. However, in the case of Fall Out Boy, the title of their latest album is seemingly more of a commentary on the dynamics between Stump and Wentz. Although Wentz provides opening and closing monologues as well as preaches between songs, Stump is no shrieking shrinking violet. His vocals were particularly strong and by the time the five song encore rolled around, he reached his jazzy stride before they merrily covered Outkast’s “Hey Ya” as a precursor to “Dance, Dance.” In the outro of “Coffee’s for Closers,” Stump and Wentz waltzed between their instruments, symbolically sealing their symbiosis. Wentz waited until the final song, “Saturday,” to potentially splinter his tongue during his signature bass licking. Overall, Fall Out Boy’s set was very solid and there was nothing truly polarizing about it. Well, at least not to this crowd. - Melissa Kim
Performing songs by the likes of Merle Haggard, Roger Miller and Hank Snow, this is as purely country as The Sadies or Doe have gotten. Not the alt-country of college radio but the real thing; the kind of music that the Horseshoe was once known for. From the moment the show began, there was no question that Doe’s transition from L.A. punk to folk rocker was complete. New fans would have easily assumed he’d been doing this stuff all along.
The Music Tapes The small crowd in attendance at Lee's Palace to see Nana Grizol and The Music Tapes perform was treated to one of the oddest and perhaps most unique performances that The Palace has ever hosted. Opening the evening was Athens, Georgia's very own Nana Grizol, who would later perform as The Music Tapes with the inclusion of experimental folk musician Julian Koster. Nana Grizol frontman Theo Hilton, standing before the audience shoeless, opened their set by announcing in a generic foreign accent (a la Borat) that this is the band's first international appearance. The band seemed to be taken by Canada, pointing out their love for Labatt Blue and the fact that the snow in Canada actually falls from the sky. They played a fantastic set, with eight band members in total cramming the already cramped stage with their numerous instruments. Most band members demonstrated their musical talents playing two to three instruments each. Enter Koster and The Music Tapes set began and things turned a little odd. Koster is the stereotypical weird guy that we all knew back in high school that we could not help but like. Experimental folk music is his schtick and he demonstrated this well in a live aspect, using vintage instruments like a musical saw, which he referred to as “Badger.” He also played his banjo at times using a bow. Staying consistent with the vintage theme, he presented a 1950's stylized television on-stage, broadcasting an image of a white scribbly lined face composited over a snowy screen. The television did the singing in it's electronic voice Bells rang loudly and Koster concluded his set by thanking all in attendance for the memories. It was a night so out of the ordinary it will likely be unforgettable by all. - William Self
There is a certain energy in the air when a bunch of singers get together and support each other in performance, and this was definitely the case during the second night of the Third Annual Brenda Carol Renaissance Jazz Fair. While the variety of styles wasn’t huge, there’s definitely a very distinctive vibe created when putting together a string of fairly similar performers, and isn’t vibe an important part of any event? Brenda Carol seemed to have a laid back theme in mind when orchestrating the night, intentional or not, the stream of musicians all seemed to have a cool aura to them: ranging from sultry, to lazy, to just plain soulful. Starting the night out herself, Carol performed her own unique arrangements of classic tunes, taking chances with some crazy jazz scales and melodies on otherwise low energy folk tunes. Progressing the evening into a sexier stage was one of my favourites, vocalist Pat Murray. Nothing sets a laid back tone more than a bossa, and Nature Boy was the perfect choice as the combination of the mysterious jazz standard and Latin bass groove set up a sipping-drinks-by –the-pool atmosphere. Carin Redman’s set followed, taking the energy down into a cool, sultry, mellow phase with a smoky and very slow version of “Jet Plane.” Just when the audience was on the brink of either crying into their cocktails or lulling to sleep, an unexpected, unknown male artist got up and joined the girls on stage, wowing the crowd with his R & B rendition of the Al Green classic, “Let’s Stay Together.” In a gutsy turn, the three singers proceeded to go into an a cappella version of a Stevie Wonder tune, and managed to pull it off with tight harmonies and unisons that were hit right on the head. Instrumentals were certainly not just background support. Some of my favourite moments included a perfectly crafted flute solo by Rob Christian, and guitarist Nathan Hiltz and Bassist Ross MacIntyre left no musical thought unexplored during their duo performance. It’s safe to say the performer that captured everyone’s attention at the point when the night needed a new energy was eighth grader, Emily Elizabeth Steinwell. What I first mistook for pitchiness, was really a deliberate stylistic choice. The girl was so laid back and cool, one might close their eyes and think they were listening to Billie Holiday being beckoned up to sing one more tune at an old school piano bar, not a pre-teen up way past her bed time. Emily was blessed with a voice that embodies the laid back feel of Norah Jones and the word colouring of Joni Mitchell, and her stage presence was an endearing combination of confident and awkward. Overall the night came together well, although if I were to do it over again, I would sit closer as the crowd was a bit loud for my listening taste. - Melissa Pisarzowski
With a juicer on hand, USS is prepared and ready for anything that awaits them in 2009. Their style described as Bob Marley in a lab coat held through during their performance at Johnny B’s in Oshawa, Ont. The crowd of Seekers were provided some good ole local Canadian acts: The Rec Room and The Stables. Props go out to Kris Dickerson (the promoter) for producing such a top-notch show! The main event of the night, of course, USS were nothing but stellar. Human Kebab, the man...the hype-man, seemed to inject the audience with adrenaline while vocalists Ashley Boo-Schultz kept everyone in a transcendent flow. The show kicked off with the dramatic intro of “2 and 15/16ths” and the rest of the night was history.
With this much hype just radiating from their EP, Welding the C:/, there are definitely big things to come for USS as their full-length album, Einsteins of Consciousness, debuts early 2009. - Sean Chin
Jaymz Bee and the Royal Jelly Orchestra The always charming Jaymz Bee didn’t disappoint when putting together his talent for the Royal Jelly Orchestra’s performance of “A Really Good Year.” With a perfectly eclectic and inspired mix of musicians, the show took you on a journey through different styles and genres of jazz, although much of the evening seemed to be blues inspired. The evening started with a surprising opening act. The young and superbly versatile Robert Scott on piano went seamlessly from a beautifully crafted original “Winter Song” to the ragtime styling of Jelly Roll Morton, displaying an impeccable sense of time. Scott was soon joined for an impromptu audience request session by the deliciously animated Great Bob Scott who takes the concept of melodic drumming to a whole other level. The singers ranged from the sophisticated Julie Michaels - a talent who could write the book on placement and use of space - to the surprisingly young Stephanie Welton, who’s clarity and grasp on lyrics transcend far beyond her years. Add the unhindered, in-your- face growl of the always entertaining Big Rude Jake to the mix and you have an earful of diversity. One could not talk about this show without giving mention to the amazing instrumentalists, who set the ground work for some heavy duty swing. The always spot-on Richard Underhill weaved around the melody and changes effortlessly on tenor sax while Howard Moore found the perfect mix between bright and blue on the trumpet. Music director and pianist Walyen Miki kept the energy up with his driving comping and Artie Roth was unwavering on the bass, despite some comedic heckling from his peers. Highlights of the evening were June Garber’s flirtatious yet gutsy version of “Birth of the Blues” and Heather Bambrick’s show stopping rendition of “Too Darn Hot.” Bambrick once again manages to display virtuosic pipes while maintaining a sweet and personable stage persona. The highest point was when Christopher Plock, accompanied by Eric St. Laurent on guitar, delivered a captivating version of Stardust in a tribute to Jeff Healey that left tear-stained cheeks in the audience. - Melissa Pisarzowski
Sondre Lerche’s charismatic personality, good looks and amazing stage presence made him the dude that all the guys want to be and all the girls (and some boys) want to be with. The opener for the night was Sylvie Lewis. Her sweet songs about love, life and old flames put the crowd in a romantic mood, which may have been a good/bad thing for the Norwegian heartthrob. Lerche started by apologizing for canceling his last Toronto show and he had come to make amends. He started a singalong with “The Tape,” which was played in a more upbeat acoustic fashion. “I don’t think your ready for this jelly because this next song is bootylicious,” Lerche said before playing the sugary sweet “She’s Fantastic,” which did not help matters as all the girls continued to scream his praises, along with a few sexual propositions. Lewis then returned and joined Lerche on stage for a duet of some of his older work from his band days in Faces Down and a duet for the song “Modern Nature.” Lerche continued to poke fun at himself and Lewis, which only made their on stage chemistry much cuter. He ended the night with the very catchy “Phantom Punch” and “Two Way Monologue.” Lerche exchanged his more boyish tenor vocals for a more upbeat falsetto and ended each song by hitting a very impressive high note. With Lerche’s new record dropping sometime in 2009, it’ll be interesting to see how many more screaming girls Lerche can attract for his next gig. -Max Mohenu Photo by Erin Pehlivan
To the shock and awe of their booking agent (according to lead singer/guitarist Luke Lalonde), the Born Ruffians played a sold out show and the ninety minute set was definitely full of little surprises. As a hometown show and the last gig of their latest leg of touring, the crowd’s support was absolutely pungent. The band had support in mind too, except on a different level; with Mitch DeRosier (bassist) supporting old-school Rod Stewart and Steve Hamelin (drummer) paying homage to Nirvana with their t-shirts, whereas Luke was sporting a plaid shirt to represent all of those lumberjack dreaming indie kids. Not only did they play most of their repertoire, but they also showcased two new songs; both of which received a warm reception. Mitch even took a break to wish his mom and his friend early happy birthdays in between songs. The songs themselves had a lot of give and take motion to them between the guitar and bass parts; however, the drumming remained consistent. Luke’s sharp yelpings of a lost beagle puppy at centre-stage were contrasted with Mitch’s overtly charismatic stage presence and string plucking. Before strumming away, Luke tended to tiptoe his fingertips on the neck of his guitar, is if it were a human spine he would only neglect to make sing-a-long gesticulations. Near the end of the set during “Hummingbird,” cathartic crowd surfing ensued, followed by a two minute on-stage dance party by said surfers. Moshing with the kiddies was not an isolated incident, as even seemingly inappropriate tunes to mosh to, such as “Little Garçon” were deemed bruise-worthy; unprecedented by the looks of the band members’ faces. The encore was of one of labelmates Grizzly Bear’s songs, but the guise could not last. Born Ruffians left everyone yearning to rough it again with the Toronto’s indie darlings as they are; a fine homecoming indeed. - Melissa Kim
On September 26th tons of people were heading up to the Casino Rama Entertainment Centre to see a sold out show with the unique and talented B52s. It was an entertaining show to say the least. Everyone was ushered to their seats, but as soon as the lights went down and the first song came on, many fans rushed the stage to get even closer to The B52s. They opened up with the track “Pump” and got the crowd started for the evening. Everyone was dancing up a storm and singing along to every song. The band continued to play a mixture of old and new tracks .Everyone went wild when they played, what we all thought was their last track of the evening, “Love Shack”. The crowd was just about as loud as the band. They said their thanks and walked off stage, but just minutes later, returned and started playing “Planet Claire”. The last song of the evening was, of course, “Rock Lobster”. Everyone knew it was coming, yet freaked out when they started playing it. As soon as the show ended everyone was in high spirits and still singing along to what was a stellar show. They are still rocking it out as hard as they did years ago and all look amazing.
About twenty years into their career, the Supersuckers show zero signs of fatigue. They’ve still got the same rollicking showmanship that has helped them remain one of the more reputable live punk rock bands. Many have argued that much of punk music is rooted in rockabilly and country, and it was clear from lead singer Eddie Spaghetti’s opening set that these are styles he takes pretty seriously. As seriously as a punk can take anything that is. Spaghetti was accompanied by Supersuckers roadie Jordan Shapiro for a set of old country tracks mixed in with some of the more country-tinged Supersuckers songs. Most of the standards he chose had to do with substance abuse (“Gotta Get Drunk”, “Cocaine Blues”) which is kind of an easy way to get punks on your side. This became quite explicit when the entire joint sang along to his song “Killer Weed”. No matter how sincere he seemed at times during the set, he ended each song with a “CHA-CHA-CHA” as if to suggest it was all a façade. This kind of defines the Supersuckers and their attitude towards genre in general. They aren’t quite country, and they certainly aren’t straight ahead punk music. When they took the stage as a group it became immediately clear that they were quite simply, a force to be reckoned with.
- Daniel Demois
My Bloody Valentine put on ninety minutes of relentless guitar drones, deafening drums, an overactive blinding strobe, twenty minutes of white noise that should have shattered all unsuspecting eardrums and the ghostly, melancholic yet strangely beautiful vocals of Bilinda Butcher and Kevin Shields. An ominous atmosphere hung over the venue when upon entering, ear plugs were handed out with a stern warning to wear them for the show was going to be loud. You were first dazed by the wall of noise rushing at you while your senses were further confounded by the strobes that lasted for much of the night. And that was the point for it was all part of the experience to close your eyes and let yourself be whisked away to another space for you didn’t come to see the band, but rather, feel the music. During the few lulls when ones senses were regained momentarily, one could see the intriguing visuals projected on stage and Shields and Co. persisting in the long held tradition of shoegazing as they gloriously maintained an ambient feeling throughout the night, effortlessly merging one song after another in perfect harmony. While MBV pounded us into submission and forced us to mutedly accept their experience, there was a brief moment of rebellion where the crowd overcame their oppression and did more then just be absorbed in their headspace. The launch of “Soon” led to a cheer and to the crowd dancing for a few moments. But this subsided quickly and back we went, our external senses quickly numbed again. This Orwellian like experience would reach its apex during their performance of “You Made Me Realise” when the band engaged in a twenty minute white noise session that dropped the pressure inside the venue causing difficulty in breathing, all in creating that precise and intense moment of atmospheric-dreaminess. There was no encore set. There was no need. It took another few days of recollection to realize that we had just witnessed one of the greatest performances ever, for they didn’t just put on a show, they gave us an ethereal experience. - Belal Khallad
The Dandy Warhols have always been one of the more dependable bands in indie rock. While they aren’t always producing great albums, they at least consistently have great singles on each record. Now, having released their sixth album, …Earth to the Dandy’s…, (another unfortunately weak offering) one would think that a live performance would at least produce a dazzling song lineup, considering the extensive discography they have available to mine, on top of the fact that they are uber-cool and the arguably the demi-gods of the indie scene. Yet… it didn’t work out that way. Frankly, it was one hell of a dull show. The song lineup was odd, with a number of their much weaker offerings being performed in front of a less-than-sold out Kool Haus. The crowd was loaded with revelers who showed signs of restlessness and weariness as the band indulged in questionable picks such as “Horse Pills” and “Minnesoter”. On top of that, the band didn’t seem very engaged in the actual performance itself as they put on a half-assed show. It was so boring, that throughout the night, the performance onstage often took second billing to the “disturbances” and odd characters that populated the venue: the “engagement” proposal on stage, the “go fuck yourself” some girl yelled out at the band that Zia McCabe reacted to, the dedicated air-guitarist, and the really-odd short mustached fellow that staggered and wandered aimlessly about the whole night and who most likely found himself in a gutter the next morning. When they did play their sensations, “We Used to be Friends”, “Bohemian Like You” and “Boys Better”, one did see the inklings of the “once-great” Dandy’s and the crowd showed their appreciation. Alas, those moments were brief. The show wasn’t captivating, interesting or fun, thereby rendering it a long-drawn out performance which precluded an encore set, which was fine by most everyone there. The dullness had already been prolonged too long. After such a letdown, this reviewer began to wonder if maybe the Dandy Warhols just aren’t that great to begin with. After all, they only have one really outstanding album, Thirteen Tales from Urban Bohemia. While they might still have it in them to be great, these days they seem to relish in their recent mediocrity as a kind of inside joke which none of us get. Perhaps they’ve worn their indie crown for too long and a coup d’etat is in order. Perhaps. Or maybe they just suck live.
- Belal Khallad
On August 15th, Radiohead played live at the Molson Amphitheatre. It was an awe-provoking performance that was terrifyingly beautiful. After the fresh opening act delivered by Grizzly Bear, the crowd turned around and looked up into the sky to see a perfectly-formed rainbow appear right over the venue. Was this just a clever light show to promote their In Rainbows album or proof that God is a fan? No one knows, but it did well to symbolize the divine craft of Radiohead.
The show however may have disappointed some more of their casual fans, as a few of their classic singles were not played like “Paranoid Android” or “Karma Police”. Still, everyone from the front of the pit to the folks all the way at the back of the lawn (even though they were soaked in rain) had a phenomenal time.
Photos by Sean Chin
The Black Crowes managed to entertain fans for two hours straight with all new material and the crowd didn’t seem to mind. Massey Hall was full of die hard fans that loved anything and everything the Crowes did and seemed familiar with most songs off of their new album Warpaint, the band’s first studio album in seven years. The fans were on their feet screaming with arms in the air before the band even got to their instruments. The first song “Wounded Bird” with its superior musicianship and dramatic light show instantly satisfied. “Evergreen” “Oh Josephine” “Goodbye Daughters of the Revolution” and “Movin On Down The Line” were all crowd pleasers cheered on as if they were classic hits. Chris Robinson is looking more like a hippie than ever if that is possible, dressed in black with long hair and beard he could have passed for Jesus or John Lennon, but his moves were neither, classic Robinson crow-like dancing/grooving with every note the band played. It’s rare to have a front man that is just as entertaining to watch during long instrumentals as when he is singing. Not to mention the huge blinding rhinestone in the middle of his forehead… Brother Rich Robinson looked like he was in a different band circa early 90s grunge with jeans and plaid shirt complete with the grunge attitude. The other four band members and two background singers contributed equally to the perfection that was the two hour musical journey. The stage set up was more like a rehearsal space as it seemed most of their gear trunks were on stage with them with 70s rugs at their feet. Over an hour and 20 minutes went by before anything resembling a Black Crowes hit was played. Overall, however the fans seemed ok with not hearing all the classic Black Crowes material that made them famous. - Diane Foy |
Great Lake Swimmers
The Pigott Brothers 
One Hundred Dollars 
Hollerado
Raised by Swans 
Andre Williams
Williams wandered on to The Horseshoe Tavern stage in a bright red suit and hat accompanied by two women in some provocative evening wear, who would dance along throughout a set that focused largely on newer tracks. While he did eventually get to those early standards, it was the newer songs that proved Williams was just as out there as he had ever been. The audience cheered on this elderly man hooting and hollering at the young ladies in the audience, saying things that would definitely land you a slap in the face or a lawsuit if you weren’t Williams. When Williams sang songs like “Agile, Mobile, and Hostile” or “Pussy Stank,” the audience ate it up. Who among the women in the audience didn’t want to be the one he affectionately referred to as “. . . all that, and a bag of potato chips.” 
White explained in a Spin Magazine article that their song “Cut Like A Buffalo” was for him, a transcendent achievement. When they played it, it was clear how right he was. The song balances between the spare, open nature of The White Stripes two-piece compositions and the fuller, more complex sound of The Raconteurs. It is rare that anything means as much to the person who created it as to the people witnessing it but White was so right about “Cut Like A Buffalo”; it is everything, and we could feel it. In his third major band, White has finally struck an equilibrium that tilts perfectly between everything he has done. It was completely absorbing, completely new, and utterly exhilarating. 
Much of Bidini’s contribution to the Rheostatics, particularly in the later days, seemed to be more of a straight up rock and roll sound. The combination of Bidini and Martin Tielli created a terrific blend of eccentric and Wintery alternative pop. 
He would also sing of Jaques Cartier on the song “Memorial Day,” and express concern for Canada’s Americanization in “You’re Killing Us Now” featuring lyrics, “Chad Kroeger, Stephen Harper, Zack Warner, and you, our colours shine through and they’re red white, and blue/We’re Americanized, where’s my chicken, where’s my fries.” There aren’t many artists singing songs that apply directly to Canadians; songs that people of other nations just wouldn’t get. 
as Koster played along with his banjo. Later in the show, Koster came off the stage and into the crowd with Badger (the saw), treating Badger as an individual, a co-performer if you will. It played the Christmas song Noel to an audience now huddled on the floor forming a circle around Badger as Koster coaxed the notes from him using a violin bow. The crown was asked if they would like to play a game in which they overwhelmingly replied with a loud “yes.” They were asked to write down a fond memory onto a scrap of paper without revealing it. The memories were collected by a member of the band and deposited into a plastic camel. It got even weirder. Koster prompted the crowd to empty out of the Palace where they followed him into the club's back alley. The memories were then deposited into a pot where lighter fluid was sprayed on them and they were set on fire. Each participant was required to jump over the fire before returning back inside. It was -18 degrees Celcius outside with the windchill but the audience were real gamers. The look on the bouncers’ faces were priceless, that of a party host embarrassed by an overexhuberant guest. Tiny bells were then distributed with the instruction to ring them as their secret memory becomes revealed through Koster's performance as he took the stage once again. 
Brenda Carol Renaissance Jazz Fair: A Cool Concert
USS (Ubiquitous Synergy Seeker)
It’s hard to believe the Canadian duo, who released their demo and began performing live in the same month, would have their songs on heavy rotation on 102.1 The Edge, and have their first video single “Hollowpoint Sniper Hyperbole” played regularly on MuchMusic and recently were awarded two CASBY awards. USS triumphed over other Canadian greats such as Tokyo Police Club, Bedouin Soundclash and Sam Roberts to win those awards, pretty impressive one might say? 
Sondre Lerche w/ Sylvie Lewis
The Supersuckers
Radiohead
Thom Yorke, Colin and Jonny Greenwood, Ed O’Brien, and Phil Selway led the way with the opening song from their latest album, “15 Step”. From then on in, every beat, guitar riff, electro-whatever-you-call-it was dead-on and better live than on record. Concert-goers were delighted with treats such as “Talk Show Host”, “Wolf at the Door” and all-time favorites like “There There”, “Planet Telex”, “No Surprises” and “Street Spirit”. Radiohead managed to play a wealth of tracks from most of their albums to create a very diverse set-list.
Sean Chin