Gig: METZ

METZ (Anagram / Induced Labour)

The Shop under Parts & Labour. Friday, August 13, 2010.

Having arrived after heading over from my previous gig, I only caught about the last ten minutes of Induced Labour who were perhaps as discomforting as their name suggests. Being stuck back in the crowd at The Shop is not a good way to be able to garner information like how many people there were in the band or what precisely they were doing to cause all that screaming.

That would turn out to be nothing more untoward than one manner of the group's vocalizations — there'd also be some croaking and shrieking on tap, all accompanied by rapid fire drumbursts and a constant guitar roar. If you listened to about five randomly-selected vintage AmRep tracks at once — or the soundtrack to a rock'n'roll demon possession in real time — you might get a similar effect.

Straight-up noise rock is generally outside my purview, so that I didn't get too much out of this should be taken with that in mind. Even when there was a veneer of tunefulness — like in the last song where they were ripping off "Ode to Joy" — this wasn't easy-to-digest stuff.

As the floor cleared out between sets, I was able to move up and grab some real estate closer to the front. And I did want to be be close to see Anagram, though experience told me I'd have to pick my spot carefully to not put myself in the path of what would surely be plenty of bouncing bodies. My absolute interest in seeing this set certainly struck me — when I saw Anagram for the first time at the start of the year, I enjoyed it, but I hadn't been electrified. And yet it was one of those shows whose memory grew on me, enough that I did seek them out a couple more times, seeing them at shows that managed to make me into a most ardent enthusiast. Perhaps it was partially that this show in P&L's somewhat claustrophobic basement surroundings was the most "standard" environment I'd seen them in for awhile might help to explain my affection.

Or perhaps it's that Anagram's music is so affecting. Even if I'm not one for the physicality that this engenders in some, there's something here that gets under my skin. And even if it's not something pleasant, given the band's emotional tone and subjectmatter, it feels damn good. To put it another way, the response in those forcing their way up to the front was not so much mosh-y as push-y and agitated.¹ Looking around, I noted I wasn't the only one captivated enough to want to get close despite the peril — I'm amazed at the extent to which people will risk expensive-looking cameras by getting right in the action during sets like this.

Leading off with "Done Yet?", the turbulent thrum built up and there were soon bodies moving around — and suddenly waves of heat and stale beersmell started wafting through the room. That song, like most of the set would be from their then-forthcoming (though now-released²) Majewski album. At this point, seeing them live was the only way to commune with these songs and to get a feel for how they are constructed. It's interesting to note how most songs don't start with a count-in but rather a bass riff from Jeff Peers, whose low-end underpins things as Willy Mason's guitar slashes in from various crosscutting angles. Meanwhile singer Matt Mason attacks the songs on another front, prowling out into the crowd as far as his microphone cord would allow.

The songs are lean and sinewy but they can stretch out as necessary, the band sometimes riding out an unchanging chord to tension-inducing lengths. Besides the originals there was an especially good version of "Fish", a song by Whitby's Cleavers that Anagram have made their own. Mason's pauses stretch out longer and longer ("she scratches by back... scratches my toes...... Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.") to almost awkward lengths before the band comes back in. An intense and rather excellent half-hour.

Listen to a track from this set here.

I'd been hearing good things about headliners METZ for a while, but before this night our paths had not crossed. Taking the stage about quarter past one, the trio were celebrating the release of their third 7" single. They've been stingy on the official releases while building up their repertoire and their rep as a superior — and loud — live act.

As the set began, I felt a pleasing burst of flannelled familiarity — this is grunge, in the sense that we meant it back in my day.³ The band makes no effort to dispute this connection, here even introducing "Negative Space" (one of the sides from the new 7") as "Drown". "Alex wrote it with Smashing Pumpkins back in the day. It's on the Singles soundtrack," was the joke from bassist Chris Slorach. Labels aside, the music was, as advertised, loud and intense. I'd been holding the spot I'd grabbed to listen to Anagram, but things right up front were getting more animated. For my own peace of mind I moved around to the side, where it was generally more peaceable but the sound a bit more muddled up. The band did a pretty good job of plowing through what could have been a slop-inducing mess, beer flying through the air and friends up front more than willing to lean in to the microphones to add their vocal contributions.

Playing from all of their singles plus throwing in a couple newer ones, I was generally enthused by the band's interesting positioning in the catchy/not-catchy continuum. Not a lot of singalong choruses or anything, but some guitar hooks that you can catch on to. But also plenty shouty sharp corners in the Jesus Lizard-y mold, and the band was willing to let the beat drop and the guitar slip into shards of less-structured noise every once in a while. Good stuff.

Listen to a track from this set here.

As I'd felt on other occasions, I had somewhat mixed feelings about the venue — the vibe is apropos to the music but there really isn't enough space to step away if you happen to be a one that doesn't want other people's sweat (or gawdknows what else⁴) on you. And if you want to actually hear and see the band, you have to insinuate yourself right up in the thick of it. At the same time, a few overenthusiastic knobs aside — and they're everywhere, sadly — it's generally a comfortable enough crowd to be in, and the people who run the joint are class acts. Which is to say the space isn't without flaws, but I guess they're not so immense to keep me from heading back there on a semi-regular basis.

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¹ This, of course, doesn't give people licence to act outside the bounds of polite behaviour. For the life of me I cannot understand how these tall louts who suddenly have to be at the very front once the music starts think it's okay for them to push aside and stand in front of people shorter than them.

² By virtue of trying to capture their live raw abrasiveness, Majewski is the band's least compromising recording to date. Although not suitable for every mood, it's a rip-snorting bit of work and one of my favourite albums of the year. No CD release, but you can grab it on vinyl if you're into that sort of thing, or as an intangible artifact here. Bonus points for selling the album in FLAC sans extra mark-up.

³ When I say "grunge" in casual conversation, I don't mean anything like a lot of dross that came to get lumped in with the term — I mostly mean, "it sounds a bit like TAD."

⁴ On my way out, as I stopped to give my regards to Anagram guitarist Willy Mason, there was a dude doubled over one of the room's plastic garbage cans. "Is that guy puking? Is that what's happening here?" he asked, looking mildly less than thrilled.