Gig: Pixies

The Pixies (Imaginary Cities)

Massey Hall. Tuesday, April 19, 2011.

It'd been a couple years since I was down for a gig on Shuter Street, and even this trip was somewhat happenstance. T., with whom I'd gone to many a show back in the day, had an extra ticket and invited me out — so despite some nostalgia-related misgivings, I joined him up in the balcony for the second of a two-night stand of a band playing an album from 1989 front-to-back.¹

They say that playing Massey Hall is some sort of meaningful measuring stick that a band has, y'know, made it. But really, it just means you can convince a certain numer of people to pay for a semi-pricey ticket — it's not like "Classic Albums Live" have reached some equivalent point of artistic validation to The Quintet or anything. And it's even more capricious for opening acts. I dunno what went down in what backroom, but it seemed like a helluva break for Winnipeg's Imaginary Cities to be on this bill. Purveyors of a mildly fungible soul-laced pop-rock, they might have been seen as lacking in stature to be "Massey-worthy".

Given that I had seen 'em just about a month before this, I was not too sad when we walked in with the band already on stage. We still managed to catch the last twenty minutes of the set — enough to reinforce my dominant impression that they're "a pleasant diversion to pass the time while you wait for another band". Besides some of their own stuff (like the admittedly-catchy "temporary Resident"), they threw in a cover of Cake's "Mexico" — which was effective in playing Rusty Matyas' vox off Marti Sarbit's, but kinda implied a bit of a lack of faith in their own repertoire. And, anyway, their own "Nine and Ten" was just as successful in that regard. The band seemed a little unused to being spread out on such a big stage, but they had fun with it, bantering with the crowd and even inviting everyone down to the merch table to check out Matyas' own brand of ketchup.

Perhaps, in the end, this was a canny choice for an opener as this might be the sort of pleasantly non-threatening stuff that might appeal to a nostalgia-seeking crowd who probably don't work as hard at finding new music as they used to.

Now into a cash-in reunion phase that has lasted nearly as long as the band's original tenure, the Pixies were taking another kick at the horse by presenting a end-to-end revisitation of the seminal (and wonderful) Doolittle. And that obviously paid off, with the band playing Massey Hall two nights in a row — a good showing even if there were plenty of open seats up in the balcony on this night.

On the darkened stage, a giant screen blinked into life, showing a Chien Andalou highlight reel. The screen would go from opaque to backlit as needed, adding visual accompaniment to the songs, as well as title-cards announcing each phase of the show. There were also giant colour-changing orbs suspended above the stage, and I considered how awesome it would be if they lowered to the stage after the opening act and the band emerged from them, Spinal Tap style.

That was not to be, but there was a mix of the high-tech and ceremonial (I'm so not used to shows with, like, a lead-up and screens and so on) with the band's more down-to-earth approach that was generally agreeable. The four members seemed about as spread apart from each other as they could be, and guitarist/vocalist Frank Black, er, Black Francis seemed unconcerned with interacting with the crowd. That task would fall to bassist/designated banterer Kim Deal, whose chipper demeanour bobbed happily along just like one of her basslines.

She'd also occasionally shout out a progress report on how far through the album the band was, but before getting there the set started off with some b-sides, "Dancing the Manta Ray" (which is mostly notable for being a different song than "Manta Ray", surveyed a few songs later) and "Weird at my School" (not really notable at all). "Bailey's Walk" and "Manta Ray" are, indeed, stronger songs and expressed more of the Doolittle vibe.

And then into the album proper, which should be an anti-climactic experience (no surprise what's coming next!), but it was still exciting when the bassline for "Debaser" kicked in. Otherwise, though there's no doubt that I loved Doolittle back in the day, it'd probably been well more than a decade since I listened to it, so I was actually was a little surprised as the hits, as they say, kept on coming.

There was definitely a bit of live acceleration on songs like "Tame", which made the quick tunes rush by even faster — many were here and gone in a couple minutes flat. The audience was pretty ebullient as the band tackled "Here Comes Your Man", but, perhaps perversely, I think I enjoyed the stuff from Side 2 more, just to see the band tackling non-natural setlist selections like "Mr. Grieves" and "Silver". "No. 13 Baby" — somewhat surprisingly the longest cut on the album, go ahead and look it up — actually was allowed to simmer along a bit in an extended outro, but otherwise the arrangements hewed pretty closely to the originals.

And then, after "Gouge Away", the band departed the stage — and another thing I'm not used to any more is the large-format gig's extended encore breaks, with the band waiting for a few minutes and letting the audience whip themselves up a good bit before returning. Returning to the album's b-sides, they played "Wave of Mutilation" once again, here in its slowed-down "UK Surf" incarnation, and added "Into the White" before retreating again.

After that came a five-song encore that leaned on the early part of their catalogue, with a pair from 1987's Come On Pilgrim ("Caribou" and "Nimrod's Song") and the rest from '88's Surfer Rosa, leaving the last couple albums unvisited.² And if "Vamos" wasn't particularly the one I'd've hoped they'd pull out of their hat, closing with "Where Is My Mind?" (the audience singing along for the chorus) and "Gigantic" was a rather satisfying finish. The latter even included the band getting a little playful, doing a drop-out to only Deal's bass playing as she laughed and told the audience, "it took us twenty-two years but we finally learned how to break it down!", before ending the song by saying "Good night" to each of the bandmembers.

Ultimately, although it was a pleasant-enough experience and a good gig I was feeling hard-pressed to be as excited as the people around me losing their shit to this, and I wondered, "am I a callous blowhard, or are these people clinging to their past too much?"

I mean, it could be both.

I'd originally posted a recording from one of the encore's non-Doolittle songs here, and now I've added a couple from the album itself here.

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¹ Plus, I should add, I had already seen the Pixies, back in 2004 when there was a sense of exciting novelty about their reunion — and back in a time when I'd head out to a giant shed on the other side of Pearson Airport to go see a band. If nothing else, Massey Hall was a monumental step up in terms of comfort, sonics and convenience.

² That Bossanova anniversary tour is gonna be a harder sell, I reckon, and by Trompe le Monde the band might be down to playing state fairs and Elks conventions.

Gig: Willie Nelson / Ray Price / Billy Bob Thornton & The Boxmasters

Willie Nelson / Ray Price / Billy Bob Thornton & The Boxmasters

Massey Hall. Wednesday, April 8, 2009.

It isn't often that I stoop to dealing with the Babylon System or pitch out the big bucks for a gig, but sometimes you gotta. Despite his general vigour and lots of touring, you have to ask yourself: "how many more chances will I have to see Willie Nelson?" So, paying the premium price (like what I'd pay for four or five regular gigs) is a bit more justifiable for a once-in-a-lifetime occasion. All the moreso when the announced opener was Ray Price — who knows if he'll pass this way again?

So I made my way down to the Grand Old Lady of Shuter Street. With a few minutes to kill and figuring I wanted to walk a bit before settling into those seats, I walked around the block and came in walking up Victoria, past the stage door (with LP-clutching fans waiting around) and the tour buses. A guy was making a rider delivery to one of them as was walking by, carrying a armload of bottled water and soft drinks. The bus door opened as I walked by and a strong whiff of ganja floated out onto the street. I headed in and after ducking downstairs to look at the merch table ($40 t-shirts, $30 CDs) began the trek up to the gallery — that is to say, the second balcony.¹ Even when I bought my ticket, I knew I'd be paying a lot for an uncomfortable experience, but I'd forgotten just how little legroom there is up there. Clearly not built for modern-day bodies. But that's what I get for cheaping out for my expensive gig.

First up was a late addition to the bill, Billy Bob Thornton and band. Although worried about the odds of this falling into the crappy celebrity vanity project vortex, I was mostly content to reserve judgment. It turns out that instead of Bad Santa levels of grumpiness², Thornton's band was merely blandly competent, sort of like BR5-49 without the edge. For all of the talk of having a British Invasion edge, I found it to be pretty straightforward country rock — nothing to get excited about, but pleasant and reasonably well-executed. The band had a slightly swollen seven members on stage all told, leading me to wonder: who really needs two rhythm guitarists? They played for half an hour, largely keeping the set moving along, stopping only for one lengthy bit of banter from Billy Bob. As his gesture to the fans, he had a small stack of drumsticks on the edge of the drum riser, and he'd occasionally flip one out into the crowd.³

After a break — during which the leather-jacket-wearing boomers (or at least those able to tackle the stairs) headed down for a beer — came Ray Price. Who was, simply put, stupendous. At 83, Price is still in great voice, and there wasn't a false note in his forty-five minute set. No more the shuffling honky-tonker who was brought to the Opry by Hank Williams⁴, Mr. Price brought a smoother countrypolitan sound, complete with a four-fiddle string section. The band was excellent, including masterful pedal steel and magnificently minimalist drum work. I think it was the restrained backing and economical arrangements that allowed the music to avoid the taint of schmaltz. The setlist hit all the high notes one would expect, including the sublime "Crazy Arms", "Heartaches By the Number", and, of course, "Release Me", which was a hit for Price before it made its way to Engelbert Humperdinck. "City Lights" was also a highlight, and the set ended with Hank Williams' "Mansion on the Hill". The crowd was respectfully reverent⁵, treating the entertainer to a standing ovation, and Price seemed to appreciate the crowd's response, taking care to mention that despite his age, he has no intention of retiring. A true delight.

I enjoyed that enough that I was left wondering if Willie could top it, and the answer was "almost". Willie Nelson, at this point, could really rest on his laurels and take the easy route on stage, so perhaps the most delightful part was the sense that he wasn't just coming to deliver the hits in a staid way, but that he was still pushing himself creatively.⁶

Backed by a relatively small band⁷, it's striking that Willie was the only guitar player on the stage (playing that guitar of course). At a point where he could probably let someone else handle the leads and just provide his voice, he was willing to let the songs stand or fall on his unique rhythms. The advantage of this cozy configuration was that Willie was free to tinker with the cadences of his songs, and proceeded, on a fair few numbers to compress the vocal parts of the line to leave more room for the punctuating guitar runs. Those hands were in fine form, and kept up a busy pace throughout. At this stage of his career, the setlist was punctuated by a few instrumentals to rest his voice, but he pretty much never stopped playing.⁸

Starting with "Whiskey River", the set ran just over an hour but was non-stop, and so many classics came and went it's hard to pick out highlights. It was truly a blur. I do recall an especially sweet "Angel Flying Too Close to the Ground", but overall there was such a consistent plenitude it's difficult to pick out moments. Towards the end, there were two non-canon new-ish songs, including the self-mythologizing "Superman":

Too many pain pills too much pot
Tryin to be something that I'm not
Superman Superman
Tryin to do more than I can
I ain't Superman.

If this was my once-in-a-lifetime shot, then it was a pretty good one, and truly felt like value for money. Willie Nelson is such an institution that it feels like he's going to be around forever, but I'm glad I didn't take that for granted.

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¹ Given the number of shell-shocked, exhausted boomers and elders I saw emerging from the stairway to take their seats, one wonders, given demographics and the usual sort of Massey Hall crowd, how the venue is going to be able to sell those seats in five or ten years' time without an elevator.

² Although apparently this side made an appearance in the promotional lead-up to the gig.

³ It made me wonder: why toss out single drumsticks? Why not be cool about it and flip out pairs? Then you could at least be making a cool DIY point, like, "here's a pair of drumsticks, now go start a band!" Although as I mused on this, a Rick James-esque voice in my head replied: "Drumsticks? Why don't you toss out guitars, you rich movie-star motherfucker!"

⁴ Re-read and cast your mind over that for a moment — I saw a guy on stage who was a roommate with Hank Williams, and who inherited his band after Hank's death. It staggers the mind to think that history and legend are still that close to us!

⁵ In fact, the crowd overall was pretty good. Even during Willie's set, I was surprised that there weren't the usual types howling out requests. There was one dude behind me shouting "Hallelujah!" during "I'll Fly Away", but it kinda fit.

⁶ Musically, at least. In terms of repertoire, the set was mostly straight-up country hits delivery. While I would have loved to hear some tracks from his excellent Cindy Walker tribute, at least we didn't get much essaying of Willie's adult contempo side.

⁷ Playing in front of a giant Texas flag, the band behind Willie included piano, bass, harmonica, percussionist, and a drummer equipped, in the old Opry-style, with only a single snare drum.

⁸ It's also striking to me, in retrospect, that over the length of the set he played the bejesus out of that thing, but never once had to stop and tune. Contrasted to some musicians who seem to need to tinker at length between every song, this is quite a feat. This lack of dead space was probably one reason that the set felt so crammed-to-bursting with songs.