Gig: DAPS All-Ages 6

DAPS All-Ages 6 (feat. Colour Connection / Nicholas Doubleyou and The B-Squad / Hut / Abstract Random / Army Girls)

Kapisanan Philippine Centre for Arts & Culture. Saturday, February 12, 2011.

The decoration was a little more bare-bones than at past DAPS shows that I'd been to in this Kensington basement space, but it was still a welcoming environment for this afternoon show. And it was indeed welcoming to all, I noted, as I watched a steady stream of teenagers fill in the space around me. It looked like a lot of them were friends out to see openers Colour Connection. The band — high-schoolers like the crowd here to watch 'em — were working out some kinks in the sound system while the teens on the floor started to look bored. I could almost see the gears of their minds processing the vague standing-around frustration that one gets inured to as a concert-goer: "first thing you learn is that you always gotta wait". Meanwhile, a loop somewhere in the wiring of the PA was picking up a Chinese-language radio station, which would be faintly audible in the background between songs.

For their part, as they finally were ready to play, the band looked excited at the very prospect of having a gig. But for all that, they played with well-rehearsed composure. The set started with a bit of an overture before launching into the first song, showing an ability to play with dynamics and layer their sounds. The songs featured shared/dual lead vox most of the time, and seemed to be inspired by slightly-clenched modern rock. With six musicians across the stage, there was at times a feeling that they were glomming what they knew how to do — including a mandolin that was somewhat at odds with the musical direction — into the songs, instead of serving the songs with the most appropriate backing.

But hey: like most young people, they don't really know what they want to be yet, and they aren't yet what they're going to become. That's more cause for celebration than anything. They're starting from a skillful level, so this is a band that needs to keep having fun playing, and listening to and discovering more good music — and someday the creative seeds might grow into the least-expected things.

As if to help sketch out a narrative of the difference between high-school eagerness and world-weary university defeatism, Nicholas Doubleyou and The B-Squad were next up. Irony and slackerdom get a bad rap, but they're important stages of discovery on life's journey. Nicholas Doubleyou looked like he could have been one of the guys in the previous band just a couple years previous, but things change rapidly when you move away from home, get your heart broken, flip through Nietzsche and discover a whole universe of music outside the sanitized corporate pipeline.

One thing this crew had learned is that one way of getting better is to get worse in the formal, musical sense. The band launched into a ragged-ass folkrock clatter that felt like it could fall down at any moment, while Doubleyou, pushed along by rocking yakkety sax, sang with hiccups and squeals, lines ending in yips and hollers. The ramshackle soundworld was a perfect backdrop to tales of optimism sliding into disaffection: "this song's about failing university!" was the introduction to one — "I'm on the brink of nothing new" was the memorable lyrical zinger.

Doubleyou came across like one his lyrics. Looking for a guitar pick, at one point he haphazardly emptied the contents of his pockets on the floor, and he'd later enlist his sax player to tune his guit between songs. ("I'm not really a trained musician," he commented.)

But the key here is that this wasn't a gloom-fest — in this life, despite all the stumbles and angsty moments, there's still a lot of discoveries to be made, songs to listen to, and friends to make music with. In fact, looking closer at Doubleyou, I noticed that he was wearing stripes of facepaint, as was the rest of the band — as if they were defeating all of these little miseries with their own communal ritual. And toward set's end, the band distributed balloons with oblique strategy-like instructions written on them to the audience ("spin around", "fast dance"), bringing them into the community as well.

This was scrappy, rough fun that suited me just fine. It's a bit of a tough line to walk — when the just-on-the-edge of tottering over moments are the best part, it can be hard to reach that point without it feeling contrived. But for the moment, the band were about exactly in the sweet spot.¹

Listen to a track from this set here.

That would be followed by HUT, another band that doesn't specialize in the hi-fi experience, but no amount of rough-and-ready bashing away can hide the popcraft that vocalist Daniel Lee (also of Hooded Fang) brings to the table. Taking the stage, the band were a little slow getting themselves together, but with the opening "On Parole", I thought for a moment that they might be exhibiting a new sort of professionalism. The following tune (suggestively entitled "Barf", which one hung-over member looked to be on the verge of throughout the set) snapped back to the band's more ramshackle mode, however, and things mostly stayed there for the rest of the set. Which is fine — this project thrives on the chaos created in the collision between Lee's pop skills and the band's blind-leap-off-the-high-board accompaniment.

Bringing the same five-man lineup as when I had last seen 'em, there was again no keyboard, and Alex Laurence's² guitar sounded more integrated into the loose-knit fabric. With no setlist per se, Lee would flip through his notebook of lyrics between songs until he came to one that struck him, and spent most of the time while the band was playing wandering in front of the stage.

Out of that quickly-growing songbook, the band played seven songs, including a run through The Clean's "Thumbs Off". The recorded versions — and you can grab 'em at your leisure over on their soundcloud page — are a little less rollicking than their live incarnations, a difference attributable to Daniel "Moon King" Woodhead's live drumwork, delivered as a barrage from his minimal stand-up kit. It's high-energy and something you can dance to throughout, definitely worth checking out.³

Listen to a track from this set here.

I knew nothing about Abstract Random, but I well-disposed toward them right away when I saw them taking the stage with the day's most strikingly visual presentation. The set started off with a couple mildly-downtempo songs led by Ayo Leilani's strong vocals, while in front of her a pair of figures danced in furry suits and papier-maché masks. When the masks came off, revealing more careful preparation underneath, Jamilah Malika greeted the crowd by commenting, "we're the rappers who wear facepaint."

There was a bit of a stylistic torque from Leilani's material to the songs with Malika's rhymes, but both were supported by Francesca Nocera's hard-hitting and minimalist beats. From there, the band really started firing on all cylinders with the thoroughly excellent "Cowboy", a song that vividly (though thankfully not didactically) unpacked coded notions of masculine power ("homoerotic/ Batman & Robin/ smack my ass/ I'm a football player"). With socially-conscious lyrics and a proudly feminist stance, the group situated themselves in hip-hop's long tradition of political songwriting.

The same awareness of power dynamics with which they discussed gender and sexuality was brought to bear on the G-20 inspired "New World Order". But the band's truth-to-power approach was directed at their own community as well, the set ending with the powerful anti-homophobic anthem "Mi Nah Wanna", reclaiming dancehall riddims to proclaim "Mi nah wanna hear 'em chat 'bout violence / mi nah wanna hear 'em chat 'bout battyman / Mi nah wanna hear 'em chat 'bout burn dem / no, no".

Down in the basement, there was a smaller crowd at this point, but I couldn't think of anyone better to have playing at an all-ages show as a kick-ass inspiration for the youth. Ultimately, my only mild complaint might be that the band's name is a little misleading — if anything, they were concrete and specific. I look forward to catching them again.⁴

Listen to a track from this set here.

After the energy of that set, Army Girls brought a different sort of excellence that felt like a refreshing cool-down to end the matinée. As Carmen Elle (guit, vox) and Andy Smith (drums) set up, people in the crowd grabbed chairs and pulled them up close to create an impromptu intimate setting. Powered by her tremendously expressive vocals, Carmen Elle's songs contain all the hallmarks of mature craftswomanship — even when they're quick, each one feels satisfyingly complete. As the pair played through their small catalogue — when one of the friends in the crowd called out "One more!" at set's end after six songs the response from the stage was, "we don't have any more" — each song was dedicated to one of the assembled friends. Warm and inviting, the only flaw here is indeed that the crowd was left wanting more.⁵

Listen to a track from this set here.

What a vital part of the musical ecosphere! While the media were dropping by to investigate and ultimately write some good thinkpieces on the topic, I'm glad there people putting shows like these together — here's hoping there's more on the horizon.

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¹ I don't see any live dates on the horizon, but Nicholas Doubleyou has a new digital single available to stream on his bandcamp.

² Formerly of The Miles, Laurence seems to have also seemed to have found his own semi-rehearsed-chaos-is-better sweet spot with a new project called Hellaluya.

³ The band has a string of out-of-town dates with Odonis Odonis during September's weekends, so keep an eye out for them to come to your town soon.

⁴ The band's Dis rupt dis reality mixtape (and a whole bunch more) is available as a free download at their bandcamp. Recommended!

⁵ Excitingly, the band's debut EP Close To the Bone is coming out on Blocks Record Club on September 13, 2011. There's no release show planned yet as far as I know, but they are playing The Drake Hotel on Saturday, September 10 with The Darcys, Samantha Savage Smith and Rival Boys.

Gig: Daps All-Ages Concert Vol. V

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.

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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.

Gig: Daps All-Ages Concert Vol. IV

Daps All-Ages Concert Vol. IV (feat. Ruzan Orkestar, Sean Nicholas Savage, The Miles, Santa Guerrilla, Casey Mecija)

Kapisanan Philippine Centre for Arts & Culture. Saturday, January 16, 2010.

All praise to the Daps Duo! Dan and April of Hooded Fang have a nice sideline in inclusive, fun matinées presenting bands across a range of genres. With the shuttering of Rolly's Garage, their spiritual home base, the latest show landed in Kensington Market, in the friendly basement confines of the Kapisanan Philippine Centre. A long, narrow room, low-ceilinged, with the bands set up on a low stage at the far end. Back by the entrance, there was a merch table and hot chocolate for sale, and the long walls were covered with drawing paper, encouraging all comers to add their marks. A nice crowd on hand, mostly younger, but pretty much all Good Attendees, dancing when called for and quiet and attentive when that was required.¹

"Hi Everyone... we're Ruzan Orkestar, and this is our last show ever," announced Patricia Auchterlonie at the start of their set — is a bit of a bummer, as far as introductions to bands go. Don't get too attached and all that. On the other hand, the understated melancholy of that greeting nicely set up their first piece of music, a Dirty Three-esque violin-led dirge rather appropriately entitled "Elegy". The band's stock-in-trade was Godspeed-like instrumentals, and perhaps the stuff here wasn't breaking new ground in that regard, but the band showed talent in their compositions. "Stay Golden, Pony Boy", with Egin Kongoli's shouty vocals, was a bit of a departure — feeling a bit like Slint atavistically lurching back into Squirrel Bait — and in this context a little bit jarring compared to the music around it. Auchterlonie's wordless vocalisations on "Emmett's Blood" were a better fit.

Featuring a fill-in drummer stepping in for his departed predecessor, it was clear that this band was a learning experience for all involved right up to the end, and though it seems this project has run its course, it looks like we'll be seeing more from some of the members again in new capacities. The band were selling a two CD-R set of their complete recordings after the show and I picked one up, so I guess they'll now be in the "gone, but not forgotten" drawer.

The band has a link to a download of their set at their myspace, or you could listen to a track from my recording here.

Playing an old acoustic twelve-string, Montréal's Sean Nicholas Savage vamped a bit and sang a few taroola-lays while waiting to see if the sound guy could throw some reverb on his voice.² Proceeding without, he started to sing in an utterly non-rock'n'roll manner, all high and quavery — sort of like a twee, folksy Roy Orbison. Playing ten songs over a half hour, not all of the selections were winners, but it was pleasingly refreshing stuff from a distinctive voice. In fact, I'd say this was the sort of set that grew on me more after the fact, so I wouldn't object to further exposure.

Listen to a track from this set here.

When I saw The Miles last spring, I was impressed: "like a boys' varsity B-52's" was my summary. A second time round, they remain impressive — and, if anything, tighter and more confident than previously. Looking like private school boys toying with the notion of running away to join the rock'n'roll circus, perhaps some of my admiration stems from the fact that a younger me would have been totally thrilled by/jealous of them, what with their looking bookish but not nerdy, and able to, like, impress girls with their rock moves. Their new wave surf party tunes (mostly about being interested in/tired of girls) aren't yet winning any nobel prizes for originality, but they're delivered with such groovy gusto that that just doesn't matter. Delivering some of the highlights from their album³, including "Stingray", "Trash" and the incredibly hummable/danceable "Can I Speak to Shawna?", these lads continue to leave a tasty impression.

Linking up the location and the music, Santa Guerrilla — the resident music collective at the Kapisanan Centre, with the members rotating to learn all of the instruments — brought the Pinoy vibe. There was a familiar face on the stage in the form of Alexander The, who has previously shown his pop skills in Times Neue Roman. Here he added Korg-y keyb sweetening to the to percussion-based ensemble. Rocking the kulintang (racked gong chime) and agung (large gong), the sounds blended well into a hip-hop sensibility, with the crew adding rhymes to the traditional sounds. Totally unexpected and highly delightful — this is music that deserves to be heard beyond the walls of the Philippine Cultural Centre.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Casey Mecija has apparently been working on her one-woman-band skills, bringing along a small kickdrum/cymbal combo to accompany herself. And for additional safety in numbers, she was joined by her sister Jenny and Anissa Hart on strings — a configuration that was pleasingly intimate without sounding sparse. We had a chance to hear stories about incentives at childhood recitals (a trip to Wendy's, or Arby's if things went really well) along with some lovely new tunes that will possibly be surfacing on the next Ohbijou album.

Leading off with a lovely cover of Nathan Lawr's "Barking At Your Door", the set included a couple old favourites — "Black Ice", plus a version of "The Otherside" where, in the overlapping vocal section at the end, Casey was so caught up in listening to Jenny's part they ended up harmonizing the same lines with each other instead of alternating them. "I honestly thought your voice was my voice," Casey laughed at the end. "No Arby's!" someone in the audience shouted back. The crowd, mostly sitting on the floor, was raptly quiet, right up to the final selection, a very pretty love song ("true one / we've only begun") that Casey played solo. A fine capper to the afternoon.

Listen to a track from this set here.

And then, out at about quarter after six, time a-plenty yet to enjoy the evening. A very well-organized day and smartly put together. You'd be well advised to keep your eyes open for the date for Volume V.⁴

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¹ It's nice to have a reminder that it's not young people, per se, that are ill-mannered distractions at shows. It's the booze that's the problem, really, when folks hit that age of majority and suddenly have licence to go out and drink and be loud and inconsiderate, because — and I can certainly identify with this some — it's generally assumed that the booze makes other people loud and inconsiderate, but it makes me fun and as charming as anything.

Thinking more about this, I also wonder if attentive, sober underagers become loud, talky bar patrons just because, on the whole, shows in bars are way less interesting than shows like this. If I had been lucky enough to have grown up on a diet of extraordinarily cool all-ages shows before I was old enough to drink, I would have found the transition to dark and oft-dire clubs to be as depressing as hell.

² Savage's music gave the impression that he was utterly mis-named. Perhaps "Cardigan" or "Bramble" would serve as truth-in-advertising surnames, though I guess that might be a bit too obvious.

³ Their album's title, Blood on My Blazer, contributes to their Max Fischer-esque image, and comes in a nifty hand-made package with the CD backed against a silkscreened old 7" single — mine is a Philles Records pressing of "Unchained Melody" by The Righteous Brothers. Quite nifty.

⁴ Word on the street is you should keep March 27 April 10 open in that regard.