Daps All-Ages Concert Vol. V (feat. Grand Analog, $100, Maylee Todd & Pegwee Power, Doldrums)
Kapisanan Philippine Centre for Arts & Culture. Saturday, April 10, 2010.
Back down underground to the basement of Kensington's Kapisanan Centre. This time around the Daps folks put even more work in on a nice decoration job, with streamers dangling down from the ceiling the length of the room. There was also a hanging sheet acting as a divider, creating a bit of a separation between the front and back areas, and others sculptured around the ceiling, giving the whole place the feel of a comfy cave.
As the early crowd filtered in, Airick Woodhead, wearing a floppy parson's hat, could be seen sitting cross-legged on the stage with a mug of tea, flipping through his notebook. Doldrums exists in a full-band configuration, but for this show was stripped down to a solo appearance for Woodhead, best known for his work with local pop unit Spiral Beach.1 Leading off with some appropriated and doctored found sound ("My wife makes... fist noodles" got twisted around and progressively weirder) the songs were swathed in acid-tinged weirdness, like a one-man Piper at the Gates of Dawn. Perhaps partially the product of the solo format, there was a rustic, gentle folk undercurrent to the songs, even when the vocals were getting warped and looped while Woodhead accompanied on guit and keyb. It'd never really occurred to me how appealing a voice Woodhead has, capable of reaching pure notes with a titch of a Rufus Wainwright quaver. Showing the sort of lo-fi artistry that the project is aiming at, the set included a cover of R. Stevie Moore's "No Know" alongside the originals. A quick twenty-minute set. Low-key but an interesting introduction.
Listen to a track from this set here.
Perhaps anticipating more balladry, most of the people in the room decided to sit on the floor for Maylee Todd & Pegwee Power. With all their wires and gear, the band — especially stand-up bassist Chris Kettlewell, who had only the slimmest margin of clearance from the low ceiling — looked like they were filling up the small stage. The crew featured Eric Woolston on drums this time 'round, but the vibe and setlist were similar to when I had seen them a couple weeks before.
"Do you hear commercials coming from the monitors?" Todd asked, mildly perplexed, in the middle of "Hooked", and indeed, there was some sort of radio interference coming through. Laughing, Todd improvised a quick tune while that got tied down. The collective decision to stay sitting down suited the first few songs, but once the energy level was picked up with "Aerobics in Space", Daps founders April and Dan took up the challenge of trying to get people up and moving, joining in an impromptu dance-off. The groove-party vibe of that and again-awesome Patrice Rushen cover "Haven't You Heard" gave way to just one quieter song on the harp ("Protection Plan 101") to finish things off. The vibe of the set was a little more loose than the band could be, but it suited the basement vibe pretty well.
Somewhat to my surprise I hadn't seen $100, one of my favourite local bands, playing since September. That means there's been time enough for these crafty storytellers to have a bunch of new material in their setlist.2 This show featured just the core duo of Simone Fornow and Ian Russell, but the stripped-down arrangements were ideal to focus on a whole lotta new words.
With the streamers wrapped around the microphone stand, Fornow couldn't prowl around the stage in her usual caged-animal manner until she could untangle the mic between songs, so she was stuck stationary for the lead-off train song "900 Miles", an adaptation of an old traditional number.3 New songs included "Not On My Watch" (an investigation of the old folk archetype of the kind-hearted jailer) and "Meet me Where the Sparrows Drop" (a soldier's lament). "If It Weren't For the Carnations" was a pretty little hurtin' number in the band's best tradition while closer "Positive Hex" is arguably the band's most upbeat song to date4, with a nice intertwining vocal part from Russell.
A nice crowd on hand to listen to the songs, and the "free for 12 and under" admission policy was certainly being taken advantage of by a number of parents bringing their little ones to check things out — so while I wasn't the oldest person in the room, I was probably the oldest one without a toddler. As one often sees in situations like this, Fornow appeared to be delighted to be playing for a room filled with children and friends. And for myself, it was certainly nice to have a chance to hear the songs old and new. I haven't heard much talk yet of the timing of a follow up to Forest of Tears but I do hope it's on its way.
Listen to a track from this set here.
Between sets, slipped outside for some fresh air. Quite a nice day out, and it wasn't too much of a surprise to discover another gig going on in the art gallery next door. Ah, Kensington. Stood outside chatting and listening to an acoustic duo playing and felt revivified going back down into the darkness with a dub rhythm coming from the sound system.
Easing into their set with an instrumental that kicked over into opener "Weekend Love" was Grand Analog, out of Winnipeg, a vaguely familiar name but not a band that I had investigated previously. The band brings a mostly-live approach to ecumenical hip-hop, with bass, keybs, and DJ behind vocalist Odario Williams, filling out tracks with plenty reggae and soulful flourishes. Williams, bedecked with an improvised wig of those streamers that had previously been dangling from the ceiling, was a live wire on stage, playing by ear and mixing things up when necessary. On "I Play My Kazoo", for example, he waved off the beat and threw a verse down a cappella before re-starting the song and otherwise tried to inject some life into a semi-lively crowd.
The songs were mostly about day to day livin', the value of music and scourge of all those little problems that keep cropping up. Williams succeeded in getting the crowd involved in closer "Not Enough Mondays", an anthem for anyone who's ready to start on one well-intentioned bit or self improvement or another — but maybe in just another week or so. The whole thing made for an entertaining live stew.
Listen to a track from this set here.
On the whole, another fully entertaining day. These shows remain a valuable community service provided by April and Dan. There was even, inconceivably enough, some room down there for a few more people. Next time out, you should be down there.
1 I'm guessing, though, that the full band will be letting their freak flags fly at their upcoming show in the Wavelength Summer Courtyard Series, being held outdoors at The Music Gallery on June 10th. It'll also serve as a release party for, of all things, a limited-edition "VHS mixtape" that the band is dropping. Which sounds mildly retro, but serves as a good enough means to deliver some of the sounds and visual art coming out of the Doldrums camp.
2 In fact, the band has so much stuff that they have a bit of a dilemma — between the "new" new stuff that they're eager to show off and the audience-pleasing classic songs from their defining first batch, some of the older new stuff they were playing a year or so ago is squeezed out of the set. (Of course, establishing a timeline of a song's "newness" by when I've first heard it is obviously an inexact science at best.)
3 Also known in some versions as "I'm Nine Hundred Miles Away From Home", which is what Fiddlin' John Carson called it when he recorded it in the 'twenties, I do believe.
4 "We can move along now/ no more starin' at the top from the bottom rung," the song begins, eventually daring to admit "things are goin' better than I ever had foreseen". Ultimately, the song is a measured stand against entropy: "time ain't here to trip on/ sure it turns things grey/ but it also turns 'em green". Given some of the dark corners that $100 has explored, even a slim glimmer of light feels like a lot.
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