Young Galaxy / Treasure Hunt / Cancel Winter
The Drake Underground. Thursday, September 10, 2009.
It'd been a couple years since I'd taken in a show downstairs at the Drake. Not because I'd been consciously avoiding it — although it's not my fave joint to go to by any means. Although the Underground room is cozy enough, I must confess I feel a tad uncomfortable amongst the crowd that goes to the Drake to, y'know, be seen at the Drake — especially at the start of the film festival, with extended hours in effect and a whole other type of crowd underfoot. I'm sure it's superficial of me to think that it's just a destination for superficial people, but, well... y'know. Plus the drinks are gawdawful expensive.
An advertised 8 o'clock doors time turned out to be rather optimistic. When I strolled in about 8:45, I joined a queue winding up the stairway to the basement, and waited around for a few minutes before gaining ingress. At least we didn't have to wait too, too long after that for the gig to get under way.
First up, an unannounced addition to the bottom of the bill, a local combo called Cancel Winter. Inoffensive and competent, they played a thirty-five minute set of slightly mershy pop/rock. Two guits and keyb showed some musical versatility, there were hooks there, and everything fell into place just so, but by and large their music didn't do anything for me.1 File under "vaguely likable", but further research probably isn't warranted. Maybe their presence on this same bill as Young Galaxy made me sort of feel like they were presenting a similar sort of thing, but with the edges filed down some. Well crafted, but a bit too tight for my tastes — probably some commercial potential there, though.
Billed as something of a supergroup, Treasure Hunt came rocking as a double rhythm section — two drummers, two bassists.2 Of all the members' past projects, Holy Fuck might be the most immediate touchstone here, although with more of a metal undercurrent — think, perhaps, of Holy Fuck covering Primus, and you're getting warm. All instrumental, so the songs relied on the drummers' rhythmic propulsion and the heavy chugging melodicism of the basses. Generally entertaining, if not entirely down my alley. One of the string players relied a bit too heavily on one pedal, a sort of super-octave device or something that raised it up squeaky helium-like. Some of the shine was taken off it when a bunch of drunken frat-types — the sort for whom Borat impressions are still considered the height of wit — decided to start throwing themselves around with abandon, forcing a bunch of people who had been minding their own business to move out of their way.
Young Galaxy is a band that has managed to worm its way into my favour by twice taking me by surprise with a fantastic live presentation. Their self-titled debut album was okay enough, but I never really got them 'til I saw them them live, opening for Besnard Lakes at Lee's, October '07, and they positively blew the headliner away. Similarly, when I saw them this spring at CMW I was reminded how good they could be, and left anticipating a much-delayed second album.
That album (Invisible Republic) finally came out, and this was the local CD release show. Having given it a couple spins over the days leading up, I was pleasantly surprised with the big strides the band have made with this recording, turning in a positively excellent-sounding disc, packed with good songs. Perhaps it's a weird balancing out, then, that after being jazzed up by the album, I was brought down by a more... ordinary performance. Which isn't to say it was a bad show. But the previous times I'd seen them live, I'd left liking the band more. This time, I left liking the band the same amount.
Not to say the band wasn't working hard at it. Coming out dressed in druid chic, with hoods and ritual makeup, the band were giving their all, but it somehow just came out a little bit flat. The spark and energy that really won me over previously just wasn't there this time 'round. There was a strong start, with Catherine McCandless leading with a one-two punch of "Queen Drum" and "Outside The City", the latter one of only a pair of excursions back to the first album. Stephen Ramsay dedicated "Dreams" to his parents' dog, recovering after having been hit by a car, though sadly in the middle of the track a keyboard cable started to frazzle out, emitting a crackling buzz. Technical problems led to a couple minutes' lag, and when the band finally launched into "Firestruck", the new album's closer — an elegant slow-dance that burns with longing and puts a vivid image in my mind of the night's last dance in a high school gym — a song that should have been the centrepiece of the set... it kinda fizzled. The audience had begun talking amongst themselves and had lost focus. Somewhere in the back, a woman was singing — not singing along, just singing some random thing to herself or her companions. And so forth. In some subtle way the spell was broken, and the song was just a song. After that, the band recovered somewhat, and did a good run through "Destroyer" and got a good cheer for the populist "Come and See"3 before closing out the fifty-minute set with "Long Live the Fallen World". There was no encore — by the end the band kinda gave the impression they just wanted to get through it and get off the stage.
It's kinda unfair — if not unreasonable — to go to a gig expecting to have your socks knocked off, so perhaps part of my disappointment was partially a result of unduly heightened expectations. Again, it was an okay gig. Hopefully this album catches some ears, and the band gets back to town for a less problem-plagued show, with no technical glitches and a different crowd.
Listen to a track from this set here.
1 One song was, admittedly, kinda appealing, but it also left me humming "No Cars Go" to myself afterwards.
2 Digging around some — the band doesn't seem to have a myspace yet — it looks like the membership is thus: Loel Campbell (drums, Wintersleep), Arlen Thompson (drums, Wolf Parade), Dustin Hawthorne (bass, ex-Hot Hot Heat), Mike Bigelow (bass, ex-Wintersleep/Holy Fuck)
3 "This song's in a beer commercial!" Ramsay noted, which possibly pitched it at the right level for the Drake crowd.
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