Gig: CMW 2010 (Wednesday)

CMW 2010^* (Wednesday) (feat. Lee's Palace line-up, Ace Kinkaid, Pick a Piper)

Wednesday, March 10, 2010.

CMW is weird. Ostensibly "the single longest running and premier conference focusing on the business of Music", it is, at its heart, an industry event. And as such, its self-image is that of the remaining vestiges of the failing Music Industry, trying to find new widgets to replicate the bottom-line padding of past widgets. This is how CMW sees itself — if you haven't watched this already, you really need to do so to really absorb its particular manner of awesomeness:

This video is pretty far from my experience. From my perspective, it's just a chance to see a large number of bands, crammed together in close proximity of space and time, and I mostly get to ignore that weird mersh side of things.

8 P.M.: "Bonfire Ball" line-up @ Lee's Palace

Anyways, for Wednesday night, I kinda wanted to ease into things. Though there was a fairly full slate of showcases going on, I knew I'd be doing a whole lot of venue-hopping over the next nights, so at the outset I figured I'd be fine sticking to one thing. There were a couple appealing shows going down, but I was most interested in checking out the Bonfire Ball, with Jason Collett, Bahamas and Zeus (who I'd just seen rockin' out at Soundscapes) sharing the stage revue-style and backing each other. Given that it wasn't listed as a "limited wristbands" event, I figured if I got there early there should be no problem getting in.

Whoops. Rolled up minutes before the eight o'clock doors to find a line stretching several storefronts down from Lee's with folks vying to get into what was evidently quite a hot ticket. It turned out to be a rather poorly-planned event, with the doors not opening anywhere near when they were supposed to, followed by a slowly-crawling line as people were being let in. Or, rather, two lines, blocking the whole of the sidewalk to passers-by, with organizers separating out ticket-holders to get them inside first, before dealing with wristbands. This created an anxious mood amongst the wristbands, especially those who were near the front, watching ticketholders who had joined the line long after them getting in while we were still being assured we'd be getting in soon. This isn't rocket science — the organizers know the venue's capacity, and should know pretty much exactly how many tickets had been sold. Basic mathematics should indicate how many wristband-holders they'll be able to accommodate, and if there's significantly more people than than in the line, it's pretty simple to let people know, so they can get a head start on using their wristbands elsewhere and not waste time waiting to get into a full venue.

At least folks in the line were in that we're-in-the-same-boat kind of spirit, and there was some chatting to pass the time. But more than an hour after I'd joined the queue it started to rain a bit. I took that as a sign and decided to cut my losses and bail.¹ Even if I did get in, I was wondering how much fun I'd have as one of the last few people shoehorned into a packed room, where I'd either have to suffer among the yappy people at the back or be mildly rude and force my way up front.

10 P.M.: Ace Kinkaid @ Rancho Relaxo

Going with a hastily-assembled Plan B, I headed down to Rancho Relaxo. Which from a comfort level, at least, turned out to be the right move. Coming up to the fullish room, I certainly felt more relaxed than I would have been at Lee's, where there certainly isn't a coat rack to hang up one's jacket. The fuzzy old TV at the bar, with its supply of videotaped films, was showing The Lost Boys, a timely tribute to the just-deceased Corey Haim.

And up front on the stage was Ace Kinkaid, a largely-instrumental four-piece out of Ottawa. The guit-bass-drums were complemented by Ryan Kimmich's squelchy keybs, which would stand as the band's most distinctive element. At the outset, the music fell pretty squarely into what I think of as "Mike Post rock" — punchy, upbeat stuff that would work over the credits of a syndicated action series, or as background to a car chase. As the set went on, a wider palette would push them beyond anything quite so narrow, with a touch of psych here and a math-y moment there. Nothing that blew me away, but there was a pleasing blurpy-ness to some of it.

11 P.M.: Pick a Piper @ Rancho Relaxo

The last time I saw Pick a Piper, I'd concluded they were a "powerful band, but not necessarily with a strong power over me". Given the amount of praise I'd seen for 'em, I figured I should check 'em out again, just to see if maybe I had missed something the first time around. And this would seemingly be an auspicious occasion to do so, with the band billing this as something of an event with extra drummers joining the band's already-heavy percussion line. Indeed, as the band was getting ready on stage, a couple drummers were setting up their floor toms amongst the crowd, and right from the set's start with a booming instrumental, there was a powerful thunderousness afoot. Most of the same associations and tensions that I'd felt the first time came back to me, starting with the patchouli whiff of hippie drum circle-ism, which is something that just instinctively puts me on edge. And, I must admit, I still find the mixture of hyper-live (all the percussion) and canned (the synth tracks from a laptop) to be vaguely off-putting somehow. The singing, often with offsetting dual lead parts, was more mood-setting than word-relevant.

After "Rooms", the band opened a sack of dollar-store tambourines and started tossing them out into the crowd, making everyone a part of the band for the all-percussion finale, with drums being carried from the stage to the back of the room. Here was that hippie drum circle I'd been leery of — but to be in the middle of it (or, well, more at the fringes of it) was exciting and definitely the highlight of the set. Pick a Piper has some relatively catchy songs, there's all that rhythm making it something you can groove to a bit — no shortage of likable elements. And yet, for me, there's something about it that's less than the sum of its parts.

There were more bands to come, but I was most definitely pacing myself, with three more nights to go. The show didn't wow me, but it was a good-enough time — certainly better than being stuck in line-up purgatory.

Thanks to Historyjen for pointing out that CMW promo video.

---

^* A note on nomenclature: for years both the industry showcase and music festival components were known as Canadian Music Week. But as of 2009, this was deemed to be too simple and straightforward, and the music portion was "rebranded" as Canadian Music Fest, under the aegis of the larger Canadian Music Week. I see no reason to put up with this and will simply refer to everything as CMW — although there was a part of me that also considered using the slightly cumbersome "Canadian Music Fest presented by Canadian Music Week" throughout.

¹ Which, as it turns out, was the right move. A couple nights later waiting for the streetcar I ran into a couple that I'd recognized from ahead of me in the queue and asked if they made it in. They told me that in end no wristbands were admitted to the show. I didn't experience anything like this otherwise, but there were reports of this happening at other popular showcases, where few to no wristbands were let in. It seems that the organizers upped the proportion of advance tickets sold this year, which is a slap in the face to people who put down a not-insubstantial sum to buy a wristband. If a particular showcase is going to have very few wristbands getting in, then at least advertise it as such.