Recording: Massey Harris

Artist: Massey Harris

Song: Way Beyond The Nicotine

Recorded at The Horseshoe, December 14, 2009.

Massey Harris - Way Beyond The Nicotine

My notes from this set can be found here.

Gig: Grant Hart

Grant Hart (Massey Harris, Stephen Stanley)

The Horseshoe. Monday, December 14, 2009.

Despite it being a Monday night, this was one that I was looking forward to. With a new album out for the first time in a decade — and a decent one at that — here was a too-rare chance to see a perennially-underrated top-shelf songwriter digging from a deep well of material. Plus, the last time I saw him playing was a particularly memorable occasion — on an outdoor stage in Mirvish Village during a pedestrian Sunday, Hart showing up with just a single guitar, no setlist and an amusingly prickly sort of manner. So I sort of knew what I was in for. Heading in to the 'Shoe, I walked past Grant Hart having a smoke and chatting with a couple people out front. With his beret and pencil moustache, he could have been a professor discussing Baudelaire as easily as a punk rock hero. Inside, there were some seasonal decorations up — the stockings were hung on the monitors with, well, something like care.

Although I didn't know either of the openers on the bill, it turns out that they had been selected with a certain thematic rigour. First up was Stephen Stanley, formerly of beloved-by-some local rockers Lowest of The Low. He was playing an acoustic and, backed by the electric guit work of Barry Walsh, had a bloke-y vibe, receiving dispatches from the front bar on how the Leafs game was going. Playing a set of straightforward, slightly rootsy singer/songwriter material, he tried to engage the crowd and take advantage of the quiet room by stepping away from the mic to sing a chorus on his opening song. There were a few partisans in attendance applauding for him, but no great momentum of curiosity-seekers making a rush for the stage. A perfectly, um, nice campfire kind of vibe, but nothing really stuck with me. Generally speaking, the originals were well-crafted enough but just not compelling, and the playing was fine. A cover — of The Weakerthans' "One Great City!" — didn't really work but didn't interrupt the flow too much either. Pleasant, goes-down-easy stuff that didn't do much for me.

The 80's Queen St. vibe was continued with Massey Harris, a duo of singer/songwriter Scott Bradshaw backed by the slide guitar stylings of Gord Cumming. Bradshaw — who also operates under the nom de rock of Scott B. Sympathy¹ — has a long-standing place in Toronto's indie music history, as a member of Groovy Religion², with The Sympathy, and solo. The pair had that vibe of old friends picking up in the middle of an ongoing conversation as they played their songs:

Gord: [as if remembering where they were] Hey! Grant Hart!

Scott: I opened for Grant Hart many years ago —

Gord: [interrupting] It would be.

Scott: — at RPM. I was in a band, Groovy Religion. It was a great show. Willie New says "hello" to Grant.

Gord: He didn't say hello to me though.

Scott: No... why would he?

Gord: I dunno. Why would he? I saw 'em at Larry's, I'm still deaf in my right ear. That's why everyone still calls me names to this side.

They gave the sense that they weren't putting on a show so much as they happened to be playing at the same place where some people were sitting and watching them. It was apparently the influence and friendship of late Canadian folk icon Willie P. Bennett that sent Bradshaw down his rootsier road, and tribute was paid with a pair of covers to bookend the set. We also got some Fred Eaglesmith ("Little Buffalo") and Dylan ("Something's Burning, Baby") but the real clincher for the set was the original "Way Beyond The Nicotine". Musically, both Bradshaw's voice and Cumming's guitar expressed a sense of longing that animated the material. Unforced craftsmanship with just that bit of grit that makes it feel right, these "lifetime musicians" (as one troubadour I know might call 'em) impressed most by not trying to impress at all.

Listen to a song from this set here.

With a minimum of gear to be dealt with, we had a short wait before Grant Hart took over on a fairly spartan stage. Just one tall mic stand looming over and pointed down for him to sing in and his amp off to the side, he walked on with "Soul Finger" by The Bar-Kays playing on the house system. "Turn it up!" he called out, playing along to a few bars of chicken-scratch guitar. He launched into "Remains To Be Seen" (from '99's very fine Good News For Modern Man) and we were off. Mixing songs new ("You're the Reflection of the Moon on the Water", from new album Hot Wax) and old (many Hüsker Dü classics, starting with "Never Talking Talking to You Again") we were off on a no-setlist jaunt through Hart's songbook.

Though still sorta prickly, Hart was not above some goofy back-and forth with the crowd. Launching into "2541", a heartfelt song about an apartment with that titular address, Superfan Guy (about whom, more anon) shouted out, "Sweet!" and Hart stopped playing and looked at him quizzically: "Did you say it was a suite? I thought it was a single!"

His guitar playing ranged from playing quiet and unamplified on "Barbara" to jazzy on a couple songs I didn't recognize (One — a cover? — had florid tin pan alley lyrics: "with passion or concern / we proceeded to burn / the candle at both of its ends" and a second one that he said was new, about fallen angels that he introduced by asking if anyone had read Milton).³ Meanwhile, there was a helluva case being made for Hart as a premiere songwriter — even on hearing some of the tracks I wasn't really familiar with, like "She Can See the Angels Coming" or "The Main"⁴, never mind more familiar stuff like "Turn On The News" there was a feeling of distinguished workmanship. And an immense talent for catchy-as-hell choruses, like on "Little Miss Information". Playing from all stages of his career, we even got a mini-set of songs from Nova Mob's The Last Days Of Pompeii.

All of which was played for a fair-sized audience. The 'Shoe was not full by any means, but there was a nice crowd on the floor taking things in. And, unsurprisingly, there were probably more deeply devoted fans than casual ones. Amongst the former was one guy who must qualify as the local Grant Hart superfan, who looked throughout the show like he was going to plotz at any moment when not clapping or singing along. At one point he literally fell to his knees in happiness, and later, when Hart was soliciting requests, he approached, hands out in a begging gesture, to ask for his song. "I can work that in," Hart said. In fact, most requests were accommodated. Though when someone asked for "Love is All Around", Hart replied, "so will your ass be." Before apologizing, "Naw, I'm kidding. Too many years of snappy comebacks — I've hurt people."

And the songs came, one after another, often in rushes of two or three without pause. There was a sensitive run through "Green Eyes", and then, eighty-five minutes after taking the stage, Hart took it all back to the start by pointing to the ceiling and shouting "Soul Finger!"

It was only the quickest of breaks before he was back for more, though, giving the crowd four more Hüsker songs before calling it a night — all told, about an hour and three quarters and over thirty songs. Quite a journey. On my way out, Hart was again out front, having a smoke and chatting with a knot of audience members. I'd have stuck around to catch some bon mots, but I was exhausted and thinking about catching that streetcar.⁵ But in terms of value for money, quite a night.

Oh man, with so much ground covered, it was hard to pick just one track to represent this show. So check out a re-interpretation of a Hüsker classic here, and a solo tune merging into a cover here.

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¹ Which is where you find him on myspace.

² I must confess, I'm utterly unfamiliar with Groovy Religion, but the seminal Have Not Been the Same — and you have a copy on your reference shelf, right? — refers to them as goth-psychedelic punks and outlines their central role in the '80's Queen Street scene, including founder William New's role in launching the Elvis Mondays music series.

³ The only other cover essayed was a harrowing take of Love's "Signed D.C.".

⁴ Both from 1989's Intolerance — I really gotta track me down a copy of that one.

⁵ If I'd had time to hang around, I might have asked Hart why he had a Canadian flag sticker on his guitar. Is it there all the time? Does he rotate stickers for different countries?