Gig: Julie Doiron

Julie Doiron (Will Kidman)

The Cobourg. Saturday, January 9, 2010.

This was an unexpected Saturday night destination — it was only mid-week that word went out in a Facebook message that Julie Doiron would be playing this free show. Equally unexpected was the venue, unusually far east for a gig, which turned out to be a thin sliver of a pub in Cabbagetown. The Cobourg had a bit of the vibe of an upscale local, more yuppie wine bar than blue collar hangout, but was an attractive spot, with a couch-filled salon in the back and the main room dominated by the large, long bar opposite some large-scale paintings. Clearly not used to large crowds like this, the powers-that-be waited a fair while before instituting any sort of door control, the place filling up beyond a substantial crush by the time the show started. Having guessed it was going to be a bit of a zoo, I showed up pretty early, but fortunately there were some familiar faces about to join for a chat as the place filled up.

Leading off was Will Kidman, most noted as the keyb player for the Constantines, who had previously performed his solo material as Woolly Leaves.¹ He played a twenty minute set to the general indifference of the packed room. I was, at this point, about five yards from the "stage", which was just a small patch of floor in front of the street-facing window at the front of the room. Even from my spot, the chatter was about as loud as the PA, so I can't imagine the back of the room was getting much of the show, which probably just increased the amount that people were talking. Kidman's quiet, unforced performance probably didn't help in that regard — he seemed rather content to just play on through as if he were at a quiet coffeehouse. Even a closing cover of "Head On" didn't attract the crowd's attention, which actually surprised me a bit, even when Kidman interrupted himself to break into a few bars of Hank Williams Jr.'s "All My Rowdy Friends Have Settled Down".² It also seemed that Kidman was suffering amp problems — his guit was very low throughout the set — so maybe that's why the set had less oomph than would have served in this situation.

Between sets, I managed to insinuate myself forward a little, and I ended up in about the third row of spectators. More importantly, I was just out of arm's reach from the right PA speaker, so I was hopeful that I'd be able to at least hear the goings-on. Tuning as the crowd chattered loudly, Julie Doiron launched into the attention-grabbing lungburst of "The Wrong Guy" without any introduction or announcement, prompting a furious round of shushing around the room. As she'd done at October's gig at Lee's, the song segued into "No More" and back. And then into the haphazard herky-jerk that characterizes her shows. "He Will Forget", for example, was begun, then lurched to a stop as Julie adjusted a cable, and then picked up again. It's shambolic at times, yes, but this is Julie Doiron — some people will be put off by this sort of thing, and some will find it charming.

Playing on her "writing guitar" rather than her usual stage Hagstrom, Julie was eager to try out some new songs but was willing to mix them in between the stuff the crowd knew. Which was arguably a good move, as the new material contained some harrowing stuff, full of booze and regret. "Maybe the gambler, he don't need no one / maybe the drinker, he don't need no one / and maybe the fighter, he don't need no one / then again, maybe he does" ran one. Another, set to the picking style and changes similar to "House of the Rising Sun" was about "reckless drinking and foolishness" — and that wasn't as dark as one she introduced as her newest song, written earlier in the week. "Maybe it's corny, I dunno," Julie commented, before starting it, at this point just a fragment a little over a minute long:

I thought I could do it

thought that I could do it

Thought that I could be free

but I need somebody

someone to love me

but there is no one to love me.

Night time makes it hard

hard to feel but alone

stay awake for hours

dreaming of flowers

no one will ever bring.

Meanwhile, shilling t-shirts on stage, Julie revealed the reason for this hastily-organized gig: "We need to rent a car on Monday to start a month-long tour, so if anyone could contribute to that... you wouldn't even be able to understand how much you'd be helping."³ And in sing-for-your-supper mode, Doiron played a wide range of songs, alternating with her usual self-deprecating comments in between — after a run through "Tailor" that included a few bum notes, Julie commented, "I'm sorry — the only time I've even been able to properly play that on guitar was like twice during CSI Miami, on my couch." But as usual, songs were pulled off despite stumbling close to falling down. Part of this, of course, arises from Doiron's willingness to tackle pretty much anything on stage — not just any request from the audience, no matter how obscure, but also Doiron's own impulsive notions arising on the spot, like a cover of a Fred Squire tune, introduced with "I'll try this song — I don't know if I know the lyrics... in face I don't think I ever played it on guitar".

There were also a couple soulful covers, such as "You've Really Got a Hold on Me" (though practised in the shower before the show, Doiron commented, "I don't even think this is a good idea. But it's that kind of night, where we can try anything") and "Bring It On Home to Me". Will Kidman joined in on the latter, staying on the stage area after playing guitar for "Broken Minivans". And in a bonus unplanned guest appearance, Gentleman Reg was pulled from the crowd to add some harmonies to "Will You Still Love Me In December".

It wasn't 'til after that, more than an hour into the set, that Doiron began to lose the crowd at the back of the bar. Pretty impressive, actually, given how little they could see and possibly hear. But the chatter detracted a bit from "Snow Falls in November". A run of louder songs to close things out covered up the noise a bit, and the show ended with a powerful run through "The Songwriter", the set going just shy of ninety minutes.

As the crowd streamed out, I made it to the back to retrieve my stashed parka, and by the time I hit the exit, Julie was out on the sidewalk for a post-gig smoke, chatting with fans. Ran into V., waiting at the bus stop, and managed to pass the time in the cold before we got on our way to the subway. Extra intimate and ramshackle, this might not have had the ragged grandeur of the "proper" gigs I'd seen Doiron give in the last year, but it was still a fine night out. And while I was packed in there, sardine-like, I was mumbling to myself about "L'enfer c'est les autres" and so on, that's just something you have to put up with — it's not what you remember after.

There's a bit of chatter in the background, but you can get up close to Julie and check out a couple songs here and here.

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¹ In fact, Kidman would note that despite having been playing shows for fifteen years, "it's the first time my actual name has been on the poster". Whether he's been doing his reading on the death of the bandonym wasn't mentioned.

² Earlier in the set, Kidman had also essayed Dillard And Clark's sublime "Why Not Your Baby" to no perceivable acknowledgement from the crowd.

³ And I must say, it made me feel a little sad for a moment to consider that an artist of this stature was basically throwing the rock equivalent of a rent party just to be able to raise a stake to go on tour. In an ideal world, musicians would have to worry less about that kind of thing, but one really has to wonder if and how that's going to happen. Meanwhile, a champagne bucket was passed around the crowd, clinking coins and some bills being tossed in.