Showing posts with label mean red spiders. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mean red spiders. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

Recording: Ghostlight

Artist: Ghostlight

Song: The Winter Womb [excerpt]

Recorded at Wavelength Pop Up @ Huntclub Studio (Wavelength 640), February 1, 2015.

Ghostlight - The Winter Womb [excerpt]

It'd been awhile since I saw free-range psych collective Ghostlight in action, so it was a thrill to see them taking on perhaps the most ambitious project I've seen 'em tackle. The Winter Womb was ambiguously billed as "a multi-media performance evoking the darkness of Arctic hysteria evolving into the midnight sun". That turned out to involve streamers and balloons acting as a broken screen for abstract projections, as well as an action painting component. The latter was used not only in the fabrication of CD covers that were distributed to the audience at the show's end, but also as part of the soundworld, with the clank of paint brushes against metal bowls being looped as a percussive element. The piece mostly involved slowly-building ambiance, emerging from the "womb" with a driving krautrock jam before finishing with a version of "I Just Feel Fine" by Ghostlight's alter-ego band Mean Red Spiders. Excellent stuff, and hopefully the band will find an opportunity to re-mount this performance.

Monday, September 3, 2012

Sunday Playlist #26

Sunday Playlist #26: Holiday Monday comeback edition — "I Just Feel Fine"

After a longer-than-expected hiatus, time to get back to my Sunday Playlists. These ones seem to have a reasonably mellow, end-of-summer feel.

The Phonemes feat. Maggie MacDonald - Cet air-là

Real Estate - All Out of Tune

Madagascar Slim - Mbo

Eucalyptus - Cookie

Mean Red Spiders - I Just Feel Fine


Sunday Playlist is a semi-regular feature that brings back some of this blog's previously-posted original live recordings for an encore. You can always click the tags below to see what I originally wrote about the shows these songs came from.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Festival: Wavelength 515 (Night 5)

ELEVEN! Festival (Wavelength 515 – night 5) (feat. Ghostlight / Simply Saucer / Neon Windbreaker / LAST [Lullabye Arkestra & Steamboat Superstars Anniversary Band])

The Garrison. Sunday, February 20, 2011.

Perhaps the most focused of any of the nights at the festival, Sunday's closer (at The Garrison, Wavelength's spiritual homebase) was given over to bleeding ears and rock issued from aggressive guitars. Perhaps it was that a certain kind of crowd was attracted to this like moths to a flame, but there was a strange vibe on the night, as if menace and violence were lurking just under the surface. That can lead to some pretty compelling music, but sometimes you worry about it boiling over. Early omen: there was a drunken, middle-aged guy sitting at a table back near the mixing desk, pounding his fists on the table and kinda rumbling at no one in particular. He got tossed before the first band even began. He wasn't totally representative, but there was an older crowd on this night, perhaps reflecting that three of the four bands are very much more "established" than "up and coming".

Ghostlight (who'd fall into that former category) sort of went from soundchecking to playing in an impenetrable blur, which'd be one good description of their M.O. Another would come from Doc Pickles, who jumped up to the stage, delivering a tray of shooters to the band and singing his intro, repeating over and over "Let's get ready / let's get ready / let's get ready to melt faces!"

Sharing a heavily-overlapping membership, Ghostlight serves as a sort of Mr. Hyde to Mean Red Spiders' Dr. Jekyll, stripping away any of the Spiders' pop veneer — don't expect any Bacharach covers here. Rather, this was an eight-man face-melting unit, with three guitarists complementing bass and drums and a couple guys dedicated to adding textures with electronics and various knob-twistings, as well as flute/sax. But the music wasn't mere noise-jamming, there were loosely-structured songs moving in and out, with lyrics and all, although they mostly came in offhanded shouted bursts. One that I could make out was: "You won't know why!"

Besides leading off the set with those shooters, their onstage concepts included tinfoil (for hats and as a musical implement) and insane volume — it all made me laugh with joy. The music surged in a way that was totally ungroovy, but that's not a failing. They played for a half-hour, and the set ended with amps still rumbling even while several members had already started packing their gear. Awesome stuff.1

Listen to a track from this set here.

Ghostlight's zwippling rock chaos would turn out to be an effective lead-in for Simply Saucer. Making the veteran Ghostlight crew look like newbies by association, Simply Saucer formed in '73 and made unprecedented music in near-total obscurity before breaking up near the end of that decade, issuing only one 7" in their active lifespan. It wasn't until another generation of Hamilton rockers at the Sonic Unyon label gave their unissued recordings a more proper release that the band started to be acknowledged as a prescient proto-punk unit worthy of celebration.

That would eventually lead to re-formation of the band, both as a still-occasionally-working live unit and to their 2008 reunion album Half Human, Half Live. This incarnation came with four musicians behind singer/guitarist Edgar Breau and the set led off with a couple songs from that album. The band had the punk rock virtue of being loud as hell, and the main sonic curveball came in the form of Dan Wintermans' distorto-theramin, which added an unsteady buzzing undercurrent, similar to Allen Ravenstine's analog synth work with their contemporaries Pere Ubu. Instrumental "Exit Plexit" hinted at their psychedelicized early Pink Floyd side while "Takin' You Down" had an agreeable tough chug, even if it's less avant then one might might imagine. Some people want to write the blues out of punk, but as this proves that's probably just revisionism.

"Low Profile", a '77 demo recording which came out as a bonus track with Cyborgs Revisited was speedier live, and the band really hit their stride with the seminal "Nazi Apocalypse" which, again like Pere Ubu, looks into the heart of darkness for a metaphor for adolescent angst: "I'm cyanide over you," moans Breau to doomy chords and the haunting ripples of the theramin.

Things got weird during the bouncy misogyny of "She's a Dog" (one of the songs on the band's 7" single released when they were "part of the Toronto punk scene"). In a crowd that was, en masse, not moshing, a couple guys decided to start, bouncing off eachother and people nearby who were just minding their own business. They got shut down by security a couple times. And then, during "Here Come the Cyborgs", all hell broke loose, with a fight starting in front of the stage. As the doorman dragged one of the perpetrators away from the scene, a second scuffle broke out. Doc Pickles — who was right up front and busting some robot-inspired dance moves — seemed surprised to be in the middle of actual fistfights and would later relate, with much gusto, how it was Lindsay Roe of (defunct?) rockers Elbow Beach Surf Club, who waded in and broke that one up. It was almost like a mental hygiene film on the negative effects of punk music come to life — and, almost as if in response, the band finished with "Get My Thrills". I think it was bassist (and, along with Breau, a founding member of the band) Kevin Christoff who'd later comment, "Just like a Friday night in the Hammer!"

I wasn't sure what to expect going into this — there was the possibility that this could merely be a competent rehashing of quarter-century-old glories. And my slightly-worried lack of anticipation was filtered through what I knew about Breau's post-Saucers career, which musically mostly involved a more genteel folk style.2 But it turned out that this was a fully satisfying set. The volume and raw drive in the music managed to tear it out of Hamilton, and out of the 1970's and make it feel like it belonged in this moment, getting the blood flowing and the fists flying.

Listen to a track from this set here.

The least-established of the night's band's, Neon Windbreaker might have collected as many blog posts and column inches as all of the other bands on the bill combined in the months leading up to this show. Not bad for a group existing in a grey zone between joke band (which is what it basically started as) and serious project, all while writing songs after having started playing gigs and adding/subtracting members at a prodigious rate — at this show, the band acknowledged the drummer's first gig with the band while bidding farewell to a guitarist, while also dedicating a song to yet another former member in the crowd.

The set started with a bit of a bait-and-switch, with guitarist Johnathan Dekel leading off with a doo-wop styled introduction ("Can I get more slapback?" he asked before starting) that led right into Eric Warner's more aggressive vocal stylings, ranging from forceful shouts to throat-shredding yowls.3 "Melodic shoutcore" might be the best genre tag here, although the instrumental attack often comes off a bit more mannered than Warner's vox.

"We just released a sandwich a few weeks ago," Warner commented non-nonchalantly between songs, despite the prima facie strangeness of that statement. That would be a reference to their Sandwich + Fruit EP, released at a show where, instead of creating any sort of physical manifestation of their "product", a download code was sold with food items.4 Besides their handful of originals (most in the sub-two-minute range) the band also apparently has a soft spot for mid-90's CanCon radio-friendly alt-rock, covering Limblifter's "Tinfoil". And set-closer "Furniture" was similarly introduced with the assurance that "this song is not a Silverchair song."

Not my sort of thing musically, but for a joke-origin sort of band, they were certainly no worse than a lot of bands who take themselves very seriously. And, more importantly, the band was fun on stage — or off stage, as the case may be, as nearly all the members took a turn hopping down from the stage to play amongst the crowd. Warner started the set there, Dekel would later jump down to wrestle with someone (while still playing), and the bassist was down there during the final song. The sense that they're out for fun and not taking themselves too seriously made this go down a lot easier.5

Listen to a track from this set here.

After all of that, there was still a keyed-up crowd to end the night, eager for headliners (and community-minded Wavelength regulars) Lullabye Arkestra, who were promising something more expansive than their usual performance. In fact, it started off like a regular LArk set, with a billowing smoke machine obscuring the room during a lengthy ambient intro with a keyboard drone providing a spine as bass and drums slowly built up. Justin Small and Katia Taylor then segued into three songs in their usual duo format, ending with "Nation of Two" before they were joined by three additional players from local soul-rock titans Steamboat. The combined unit was dubbed LAST (for Lullabye Arkestra + Steamboat) for this set, and they played with a hard rock ferocity that would have merited tossing in a lightning bolt slash in there: LA⚡ST.

Although one might think of Steamboat as being genteel water to LArk's oil, there's no shortage of connections here. Family is the first, with Taylor welcoming her brother Nick to the stage to take up the guitar.6 Meanwhile, Matt McLaren and drummer Jay Anderson (who'd also played percussion the night before as part of Maylee Todd's band) are no strangers to harder-edged sounds in their Biblical project.

With the extra players joining in without a break in the sound, they tackled a few numbers from LArk's catalogue, filling out "We Fuck the Night" and "Fog Machine" with additional crunch and several guitar solos that fit in quite nicely. Nick Taylor took lead vox for one of his own songs, bringing in some dual guitar leads which was a nice lead in to a mini-set of classic rock covers, leading off with the heavy vibes of Pink Floyd's "The Nile Song"7 and Joan Jett's more playful "Bad Reputation" (Kat on vox here), then traipsing through some Motörhead and Deep Purple (McLaren taking the mic for "Space Trucking"). The main set ended with the "Hail! Hail! Rock and Roll!" call to arms of "Ass Worship", and then an encore (reverting back to just Small and Taylor) brought the set to a robust seventy-plus minutes. A little exhausting, but good fun.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Last years' tenth anniversary festival, celebrating the end of Wavelength's weekly incarnation, ended with a big spectacle and a wrap-it-all-up group hug — a widescreen moment of a thing done. This year's festival just ended like a regular show, which was less celebratory/sad/emotional, yeah, but also more like it's part of a flow — like there's still more to come.8


1 Although they don't play with great regularity, Ghostlight do pop up playing live from time to time. They're also closely affiliated with the boutique inyrdisk CDR label, which puts out limited-edition runs of all sorts of strange, wonderful noises.

2 I remember seeing Breau opening for Richard Lloyd back in '08, and he was singing strange, possessive songs about Nico and gentle, dull songs about oceans — a far cry for the work he's best-known for.

3 Dekel is a noted local rock writer, while Warner is a concert booker and head of the We Are Busy Bodies record label.

4 The "unmastered, live off the floor EP" remains available for free download here.

5 The band remains active, but have slowed down from a heavy live pace they were maintaining this spring. They have a blog, but apparently no other official online presence.

6 The pair have also collaborated on Nick's Church & State project, which is his main vehicle for his own songwriting and production work.

7 This might perhaps have helped to plant a seed in the mind of some members of the local music journalism establishment with regards to Pink Floyd's recent return to "cool" status.

8 Next year's Family Day falls on February 20, 2012, so mark that down and start planning now to celebrate at the next Wavelength festival.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Recording: Mean Red Spiders

Artist: Mean Red Spiders

Song: Shiny Skin

Recorded at The Garrison (Wavelength 511), December 2, 2010.

Mean Red Spiders - Shiny Skin

My notes for this set can be found here.

Gig: Wavelength 511

Wavelength 511 (feat. Mean Red Spiders / Ben Gunning / Vanessa's Entire Heart / Willow Rutherford)

The Garrison, Thursday, December 2, 2010.

On a cold night, headed down from work and got to The Garrison a titch earlier than expected. That's the downside of winter gigs — when it's a cold night out, it's a lot harder to kill time. So I ended up in the venue indecently early, passing through The Garrison's front doors just as Duncan "Doc Pickles" MacDonell was flinging open the curtains to the back room. Caught the end of Willow Rutherford, the night's first act, soundchecking. Vribi, her Finnish violin player, was having microphone problems, so as the sound tech switched cables, the pair stayed on stage and amused each other, playing little bits back and forth, balancing on one leg and so forth.

After Doc Pickles' characteristic intro, Rutherford re-emerged in a striped shirt — with her accordion, she just needed a baguette tucked under her arm to really connote "Paris!". And that would be a propos, I guess, given the romantic café music the duo played. On a stage loaded with Mean Red Spiders' gear, the pair were clearly having a blast playing with each other — watching, holding a note a little long — as if the whole point of the gig was their own amusement. The songs were mostly straightforward sprightly ditties, though Rutherford managed to slip in an occasional off-colour lyric under it all.

It worked well in the mostly attentive, quiet-ish room, with a few rambunctious types on hand willing to sing along — or wail along to mournful lines like "throw me an anchor". Bantering with the crowd, Rutherford showed a quick wit and off-kilter sensibility to go with a good voice, and some nice music. I enjoyed it, though it's not the sort of thing I'd go out of my way for. Your mileage may depend of your appetite for preciousness.

An album launch from one of the bands who had famously played at the very first-ever Wavelength show would be a major event, one would think. But as Mean Red Spiders took the stage, it was to a pretty thin crowd. Similar to a lot of good old-fashioned Sunday night Wavelengths, probably, but I was looking around and wondering: "is this what fourteen years and being fundamental to the scene gets you?"

I've mused a bit on the existential predicament that MRS is up against before — doing their foundational work in the pre-internet era, for one thing, and cursed (as it were) by still being a working group, lacking the romance of absence to create the aura of legend. And generally not given the credit they deserve, seeing how the shoegaze-y torch they've held high has gone from unfashionably marginal to terrifically au courant. Which is to say: if some unheralded group of twenty-year-olds from a fashionable zip code had released any of the band's albums right now, they'd be heaped with visionary praise.

That would apply equally to I Am the Sea, the band's long-gestating fourth disc being released on this night. After the full-on shards-of-noise attack that I'd witnessed in the band's live show, I was mildly surprised at the textured restraint that the album brings. But that puts it right in line with the rest of their recorded output. Perhaps fitting, then, that for this album-celebrating show, the band was less aggressive-sounding than when I'd seen 'em before. There was more of a low thrum underlying the sound than an explosive roar, as if they'd dimmed their ghostlight for the evening, putting Lisa Nighswander's vox more prominently in the mix.

The band launched right into the title cut of the new one, sax wailing away, but weren't afraid to put the new songs up against their older material. In fact, there was a three-song jaunt back to their '98 debut Places You Call Home for "Necktie", "Shiny Skin" and the slow whoosh of the title cut. Further on in the set, the band took the sonic chaos down even further for the sing-song lullaby lilt of "When Will We See You Again" and the nearly tropical groove of "I Just Feel Fine", a definite highlight of the set, drifting along to a mellow flute. The set finished with one last new one in "Somethings". I wasn't feeling physically shaken like I had been the previous couple times I'd seen the band, but I'm not one to complain when a band has enough range in their sound to bring a different vibe.

Within a certain limited terrain — call it the Wavelength worldview, maybe — Mean Red Spiders are a key part of our cultural history. But they're sure as hell not a museum piece or a nostalgia act — they're making music that deserves an audience.1

Listen to a couple tracks from this set — something from the new one here, and a classic cut here.

Doc Pickles, in his mutable introductions, always brings a sense of joyful discovery that he's here to be delighted by whatever's going to happen — his contagiously open-hearted anticipation is a formidable weapon. But this time, he was visibly excited to be presenting Vanessa's Entire Heart. This solo project is the bandonym of Vanessa Hanson (formerly of Ptarmigan) of whom the host pronounced, "if I drank bourbon — and enjoyed it — this is what her voice would sound like."

Added to Hanson's voice was a combination of resonator guitar, looping pedal, folk songs and piercing feedback — a winning mix of, ahem, entirely heartfelt songs with occasionally harsh squealing busts. This recast the songs from something as humble and unassuming as the person delivering them to something much more forcefully filling the room. In that vein, "Psychopath" was a highlight, perhaps most adroitly transforming what could have been a quiet, internal song into one laden with shards of howling feedback. "Girl on the Moon" used a bow to add a layer of ringing metallic dissonance to the proceedings. But regardless of the delivery — and not every song was draped in clamour — Hanson's underlying sensibility is pretty straightforward, as evidenced by an attack on Echo & The Bunnymen's "The Killing Moon" to close things out.

Given the oil-and-water mix of voice and guitar, this might be something of a like-it-or-hate it proposition. I found it quite agreeable — even if I wasn't whooping out my appreciation as Doc Pickles was.

Listen to a track from this set here.

The hour growing late between bands, there was a pretty empty room when you discounted musicians and staff. A lot of the shows that Wavelength are doing these days have a bit more of a "special event" vibe, but I'm glad they're still programming straight-up showcases like they used to. Getting started around ten to one, Ben Gunning might not have been playing to much of a crowd, but I was impressed by the company he was keeping on stage. I was admittedly never much of a fan of Local Rabbits, his old band — and as such I'd never looked into his more recent solo material. But as I saw Allie Hughes, Alana Stuart and Felicity Williams — three of the city's finer voices — taking the stage as backing vocalists I was paying attention. There was more solid talent besides that, with Gunning's vox and nimble guitar work backed by bass, drums and Michael Davidson on vibes. And also Joseph Shabason — more recently seen lending his smooth sax tones to the recent Destroyer album and tour.

With the sax and vibes and those backing vox, the music was, unsurprisingly, on the smooth side. You could call this "yacht rock" and be also quite literally correct, given that Gunning's album Mal de Mer is a song cycle told from the perspective of a disaffected employee on a cruise ship. Gunning's vox were soulful but also somewhat clenched, delivered with a Fagan-esque yalp — one more factor bringing the mighty Steely Dan to mind as a comparison here.2

It was, as Gunning noted on introducing the title track, "a lot of mid-tempo," so your reaction to the whole enterprise would strongly depend on your tolerance for that sort of thing. But there's no denying that Gunning has staked out one little sonic patch of terrain and was tending it with rigour. Besides material from Mal de Mer, the band played a new song called "Destructive"3 and visited Gunning's older Beigy Blur album for the likeable "Why Can't I Leave Myself at Home?". The set finished with "Take the Hook", but Doc Pickles whipped up the crowd enough to merit an encore with "Drinks", which listed back and forth a bit with end-of-set choppiness, but made it back into port.

Listen to a track from this set here.


1 And in case I hadn't put it directly enough: I Am the Sea is a really strong album that does their catalogue proud. Next time you're at Soundscapes, you should pick yourself up a copy.

2 In fact, given the mood and instrumentation they crew was working with, it was a shame they didn't tackle a cover of The Fez.

3 This song is, in fact, now available on a 7" that's getting a release party this Saturday (April 23, 2011) at The Drake. Show up early (9:00 sharp) to catch an opening set from Mantler.

Friday, December 3, 2010

Recording: Mean Red Spiders

Artist: Mean Red Spiders

Song: I Just Feel Fine

Recorded at The Garrison (Wavelength 511), December 2, 2010.

Mean Red Spiders - I Just Feel Fine

Full review to follow My notes for this set can be found here — this new CD celebratin' set had a slightly less abrasive undertone than when I've heard MRS in the past, but it felt fine.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Recording: Mean Red Spiders

Artist: Mean Red Spiders

Song: Some Things

Recorded at The Garrison (Wavelength 500 – Night 5), February 14, 2010.

Mean Red Spiders - Some Things

My notes for this gig can be found here.

Gig: Wavelength 500 (night 5)

Gig: Wavelength 500 (night 5) (feat. Kids on TV, The Barcelona Pavilion, Mean Red Spiders, Neck, Boars plus Thomas, Owen Pallett and The Hidden Cameras)

The Garrison. Sunday, February 14, 2010.

The grand finale of the Wavelength 500 celebrations was the only pay-what-you-can, no tickets up front night of the bunch. And though I had my wristband to guarantee my entry, I figured there'd be an early rush, so I was waiting in line a bit before doors opened. With a busy night in the offing, I didn't want to be stuck waiting outside with the first act on stage, though I was mildly cynical that things would start on time. In fact, just as I was pronouncing that to the folks I was chatting with, Doc Pickles took the stage, right on the tick, to get things going. That's okay — no one like a Cassandra, right?

Pronouncing "we're gonna kick off the Olympiad of indie rock tonight", Duncan inaugurated a torch run, inveighing someone in the back to grab a bar candle to carry overhead to the stage, so it could be passed around the room.

And then we were into Boars, the night's first act. Although a relatively new band, the duo of Alex Durlak and Damian Valles have played their part in the Wavelength saga as members of volume rockers I Can Put My Arm Back On You Can't.1 The set started with a rising ambient wave that coasted for a couple minutes before a mean rock groove kicked in that worked up to a controlled — but not mannered — racket. With a table full of electronics to shape his sounds, Durlak sometimes sounded like Roger Miller and Martin Swope sharing one body. Meanwhile, Valles' pounding insistence kept the all-instrumental songs moving fairly fluidly under Durlak's brooding post-hardcore-ish guitar. Though not fast-moving, this was engaging live stuff, with a nice tension between the "played" and "shaped" guitar tones.

And then, as a sort of bookend to the weekly series, the next pair of bands were the same ones that had played at the very first Wavelength. "One of the reasons we started Wavelength was so people could go to Neck and Mean Red Spiders shows," explained Doc Pickles. His description of Neck2 as being "like Burt Bacharach fucking Deathtöngue"3 turned out to be somewhat apt, as the band did reveal a musical compromise of catchy and rough textures. There was a pop sensibility at play here, though one that acknowledged the historic import of Hüsker Dü's power-chord ethos. It made for a pleasant surprise, like discovering a time-capsule filled with unheard early 90's alt.rock classics. The short, melodic songs lasted no longer than required to make their point, and the band reeled off fifteen of them in their half hour. They were mostly powered by Dave Rodgers' slightly yelpy vox, though a couple were sung by Andrew McAllister.4 The band was well-rehearsed5 and seemed to generate quite a thrill from those who were there the last time around — not in the least Doc Pickles, who shouted off titles between songs and got to leap up to throw in some backing vox towards the end.

Listen to a track from this set here.

With a more continuous (though not uninterrupted) existence since that first Wavelength, Mean Red Spiders6 took to the stage, opening with the lengthier "Places You Call Home", the title cut from their '98 album which, just maybe, they performed at WL1. That led to a series of shorter songs like "iiieves cove" (with some abrasive sax) and "I Am The Sea" (the title track from their still-forthcoming new album). And though MRS have a repertoire of good songs, their live sets are more focused on their overall immersive sound — an aural bath of noise, as if the band had thought things through and realized there's no problem that couldn't be solved with an additional layer of steel-wool guitar. And the music does seem to be rigourously thought through and carefully constructed. But though that might be an indication of staid fogeyism7 the band is not going gently into the night. In fact, the set was certifiably Loud (in the sense that the music physically shakes you up a bit), with the guitars all piling up like blankets on Lisa Nighswander's vocals.8 The set finished with a lengthy excursion through "Azimuth of Panama", the whole being a hazy stagger of a good time.9

Listen to a track from this set here.

Barcelona Pavilion presented an interesting shift in the tone of the night's celebrations. Unlike the previous two bands, whose ethos was reflected in the very creation of Wavelength, BP came partially out of the creative ferment that the series engendered. Bursting out of the early aughts' "Torontopian" spirit, the band arose out of pure DIY enthusiasm, fashioning themselves out of the elements at hand: a bass or two, beats played via iPod, and an interest in semiotics.

As Doc Pickles ambled through a monologue concerning the frequency of the vibrations of the stars and tomatoes growing in crystal pyramids ("I know that's awkward for all of you to think about," he comforted the crowd), he momentarily lost his train of thought and was interrupted by Steve Kado. "This is amazing," Duncan said, "it's like 2005." The crowd whooped and then, with sitcom precision, Kado and Maggie MacDonald replied, in unison, "it's more like 2003", as if this whole thing was running according to some strange script, or the performers were acting from some Torontopian muscle memory. This is, in fact, a difficult show to say anything substantive about, as there's a gigantic temptation to simply present a transcript of the band members' running banter. That banter, in fact, would take up no small percentage of the set's running time, but the very idea of a running meta-commentary of the show taking place was wholly compatible with everything else going on. In this case, singer/bassist/theorist Steve Kado10 missed no opportunity to reflect on the passage of time and his uneasy relationship to rock'n'roll nostalgia, noting, "this is the dinosaurs of rock outing... There is absolutely no development or improvement in any of our songs. We have not grown as musicians. Nothing has changed, except that we are now fat and old... Let's let the weepy theatrics start, then!"

And thus launched the set of rock as performance theatre, beginning with "Die Welt Ist Schlecht" and moving through pretty much everything in the band's brief catalogue. Other bassist Kat Gligorijevic's t-shirt read "Chaos reigns", but the band was relatively together — at least as much as they wanted to be — the music reflecting the creators' interest in the tensions between the 'amateur' versus the 'professional'. And, I suppose, between art and artlessness. Provoking the crowd is central to the band's raison d'être11, so it's no surprise that the centrepiece of the set was "How Are You People Going To Have Fun If None Of You People Ever Participate?" which is perhaps the band's most subtly nuanced provocation — does participation mean "shut and and dance", or are they telling you to stop watching, leave the venue and go start your own band?12

Amongst all the other self-reflective elements in the set was the sense from the stage that this was merely a lark, a revisitation of something that has been done, and is done with. In lieu of an encore — MacDonald asking, "do we even have any songs left?" — they simply played someone' else's song on the iPod, while MacDonald danced and sang along and Kado packed up his bass. And what did it all mean? It was quite fun, but to me — who hadn't been there the first time around — it wasn't the highly-charged emotional experience it looked to be for some.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Not counting secret special guests, the last band to play the Sunday night stage at Wavelength was Kids on TV, well-loved in these quarters. Easing into their set, the band started off with the slightly more sedate "We Are the New Keith Cole" before kicking into "Dazzler", and that basically broke the ice and got a good chunk of the crowd dancing. It certainly looked like some people who had no idea who KoTV were were starting to get into them. As always, the band put on a visually exciting show, with the ever-energetic Wolf bringing along a new supply of masks.

KoTV were a nice choice to end the "formal" portion of the night, as these indie-culture stalwarts represent a lot of what is good about Wavelength. And, in their ever-forward style, the band chose not to use this a chance to look back at the stuff they were playing last time they were at WL, back in '05, instead focusing on their newer material. This included the excellent "Dazzler" and "Poison", as well as the still very new "City of Night", perhaps the most new-wave-y thing they've done13, now complete with its own visual backing and sounding more confidently fleshed out than when last heard. Only with the last couple songs did they look back, ending on "Breakdance Hunx", complete with Maggie MacDonald taking the stage to drop a verse. As always, a real blast, and after a long night, revivifying stuff.

Getting set up while last call at the bar went out, Thomas took the stage for some after-hours jams. After the high-energy of Kids on TV, this was a quick and sudden slowdown, and at this point in the night, I was probably looking for something to keep my energy up. With the titular Thomas Gill — now also a sideman with Owen Pallett — trading vox with Felicity Williams, the band covered a Kim Burrell track, "Love is What You Do". With the God-y vibe and the very smooth delivery, it evoked those lite-rock bands that you sometimes flip by on the evangelical television shows — at one point I half expected a 1-800 number for a prayer line to flash in front of me. All the mellowness and flutes and whatnot also brought to mind, say, "Always" by Atlantic Starr. Really not my thing — this is a quiet storm that I'd probably rather stay inside and avoid.

It did set me to thinking though, about how this music fits in the little indie-rock bubble we were celebrating. If Wavelength was set up to give bands like Neck and Mean Red Spiders a place to play, that was partially because other avenues of getting music to people were clogged up by music that sounded a lot like what Thomas was playing here. On the other hand — and this is where it gets kinda interesting — to the extent that Wavelength was successful and helped move the aesthetic goalposts, as it were, then what Thomas is playing could be seen as a challenge to that new prevailing orthodoxy. Admittedly, I was finding that mulling this over in my head was more interesting than the music.

Meanwhile, Doc Pickles called up the whole Wavelength crew to the stage for an SNL moment/group hug. As is usually the case for Owen Pallett's very cool but complicated equipment, there were a lot of patch cords to plug in and so forth, so there were a few more moments before Pallett, now playing in his new duo format, was ready to go. Backed by Thomas Gill on drums and guitar, the pair played a short set of mostly Heartland material, starting with "Keep The Dog Quiet" and "The Great Elsewhere". After a nod to the past with "Many Lives → 49 MP", Pallett tipped his hand, noting "there's actually a secret secret guest waiting backstage, so bear with it." He called up Steve Kado to throw some guest vox down on "Independence is No Solution", a crowd pleaser that I'm guessing Pallett learned from Kado, who covered the song in his guise as The Blankett. True to form, Kado lent the song a more rough-hewn edge than it sounds with Pallett playing it on his own, but it certainly felt like a fitting pairing on this night.

And then, speaking of rough but right, Pallett said, "for the first time since 2003, we're going to have the Hidden Cameras play with the lineup from that beautiful era that brought us all together." And so, in lieu of an encore, a family reunion of sorts, with a large number of current and past members of The Hidden Cameras taking the stage.15

Once everything was ready to go, the mass of people on stage launched into a ragged version of "I Believe in the Good of Life". There were indeed quite a few alumni of the '03 version of the Cameras — I noted Magali Meagher, Lex Vaughn, and Gentleman Reg up there, plus some friends like Kevin Drew. And soon, folks from the audience were getting pulled up on to the stage to dance, crowding it still further and adding a hint of chaos to the music. The vocals were unbalanced, and things were getting unplugged here and there, and I'm guessing the band couldn't hear what they were playing very well, but it was pretty fantastic nonetheless. And I could think of no better song to sum it all up.

With the staff eager to clear out the room, just time for one last outro from Doc Pickles, once more telling the members of the crowd that it was their turn to start a band and get themselves on stage16, and wound his way around to close with the cautionary, "but don't worry... for the next decade, you'll have Jian Ghomeshi," before hopping off the stage. He happened to land right next to where I was standing, and noted brightly, to the general vicinity, "What a way to go out!"


1 Beyond playing music, Durlak is also an asset to local music fans through his proprietorship of Standard Form publishing, purveyors of many of the finest CD packages around — a blessing to those who still enjoy having a well-hewn physical thing to contain their music.

2 Neck were/are also known as Christiana, essentially changing their name along with a lineup shift in 1999. Although the players for this reunion show (featuring Jonny Dovercourt on bass) corresponds to the Christiana-era lineup, they were generally referred to by all involved as Neck. You can sort this out further on the band's chronologically divided myspace pages, referred to as 'neckchristiana' and 'christiananeck'

3 Though a cover of "Let's Run Over Lionel Richie With a Tank" was not included, sadly.

4 Extending the past to the present day, McAllister and Christiana drummer Paul Boddum now ply their trade in the group Soft Copy, who have just put out the well-reviewed Vicious Modernism and are said to be well-worth checking out, and those wanting to do so will have a chance on April 9th at Teranga.

5 And in a sure sign that these guys are older, more together types, they brought to the stage a crisply-printed setlist pulled from a laser printer — not just some fragments of titles scrawled on the back of a random scrap of paper. With luck, the organizational advantages of maturity will keep us in the game against the scrappy youths nipping at our heels.

6 I tried to consider their historical import the last time I saw 'em.

7 During the set, guitarist Greg Chambers said, "someone has to pick up the torch and start a new Wavelength. Keep it young — forget about us old guys and start again."

8 Within the band's deliberately murky mix, the sax was perhaps a bit too much on top of everything else, cutting cleanly like a scalpel while all the other sonic elements worked more like a lead pipe wrapped in velvet.

9 MRS are always worth checking out, and look to have a show coming up on April 2nd at Rivoli.

10 Kado, previously omnipresent at local independent culture events, is now located in California doing grad work in the visual arts. In his time here, he was both a powerful instigator on the local scene — helping, for instance, to found the Blocks Record Club — while at the same time acting as an gadfly of self-criticism towards performers and audiences alike.

11 "Well, I noticed none of you guys were dancing all that hard either. And I know why — it's 'cause you're old now. Or you're too young to remember why this would have been fun before."

12 If my reaction to all of this were to be rendered as a New Yorker-style cartoon, it would show me standing in the crowd, head tilted, with a caption like, "Well, I think I'm participating —— but am I participating enough?"

13 Although the musical vibe here follows logically from the "original mix" of "Poison" (check it out on the Friends in Bellwoods 2 comp), which differers from the Siquemu remix that forms the basis of the live version, so maybe "City of Night", too, will also gain an extra dancefloor backbeat in time.

14 Because, frankly, busting out CCM tunes to the Garrison crowd is a sort of subtly audacious move.

15 Helping to kill time as everyone got set up, Dave Meslin, always one to dream of the fate of democracy, managed to get a pitch in for the Better Ballots initiative, citing his hopes that it could "do the same thing for politics that Wavelength did for music" — and replace the same old top 40 mentality with something fresher and more representative.

16 Which, I must confess, I have not done. But if there are any other practitioners of musical laienmalerei out there interested in working out some of the implications of the Vulgar Boatmen and Tom T. Hall, do drop me a line, and we can get prepared to entertain Doc Pickles at Wavelength 1000, which he promised would be held in SkyDome.

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Recording: Mean Red Spiders

Artist: Mean Red Spiders

Song: Azimuth of Panama*

Recorded at The Silver Dollar, August 1, 2009.

Mean Red Spiders - Azimuth of Panama

My notes from this set can be found here.

* Thanks to Henry's dad for filling in the title for this one.

Gig: Heaven / Mean Red Spiders

Heaven / Mean Red Spiders

The Silver Dollar. Saturday, August 1, 2009.

At the end of a long day out that had started out down by the lakeshore watching the Caribana parade, headed to The Silver Dollar to catch one of Dan Burke's late-night specials. Definitely value for money, as I thought I was getting there with time to kill, but instead found that Woodward Company, a late addition to the bottom of the bill, were already near the end of their set. It seemed decent stuff, but I didn't really hear enough to form a strong opinion. Meanwhile, I cast my eyes around the nearly-empty Dollar, wondering where everybody was as I settled onto a stool in front of the bar.

Quarter after eleven, Mean Red Spiders took the stage. This is a band that got a raw deal, arguably. If you were making a map of Toronto Indie History, you might slot them in as the missing link between Trans Love Airways and Broken Social Scene. And whereas the latter became famous, exporting a certain kind of hazy, shoegaze-informed guitar rock to the world, MRS (and TLA, for that matter) were left relegated to "cult status". Write it off to bad timing, and missing the right world-historical moment because they were creating the underpinnings of that moment — and not any kind of lack of talent.1

The band — moving from year-to-year with an ever-shifting lineup — certainly isn't looking backwards. With a paucity of banter (or even mentioning who they were) they launched into a powerful half-hour of swirling three-guitar rock, melodic at the centre, but full of interestingly jagged edges.2 It took them a few minutes to get into their groove, but once they were there, it was powerful stuff, with a couple songs toward the end of the set stretching out with some nice instrumental action. Whether by design or a house sound that tends to bury vocals, Lisa Nighswander was rather buried in the mix, but with this style of music that's usually bearable. I can't say I know enough of their back catalog to say if they essayed anything from the past or were just working from what appears to be a forthcoming album, but this was really exciting stuff. At a time when we like to fall over ourselves praising the next and the next and the next band, it's incumbent on us not to forget to praise the artists who built the groundwork of our scene — and all the moreso when they're still putting on exciting and vital shows like this.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Also taking the stage without much in the way of banter or audience interaction was Heaven3, who I'd been hearing good things about for a few months and had on my list of bands to see at NXNE but managed to miss 'em. This young four-piece (drums, two guitars, vox and no bass) is working the more astringent/less dreamy end of the shoegaze spectrum, which implies that live'n'loud is probably the optimal way to hear 'em. Within the nearly empty bar, they were indeed cranked up and sending out harsh waves of sawtooth guitar noise that implied that they prefer to listen to the noisy middle of MBV tracks more than the poppy beginnings. Co-ed vox provided a structure to the songs, but not a lot to give you something to hum on the way home. A rigourous half-dozen songs in just over twenty minutes was a reasonably-sized portion to appreciate this band's merits. Good stuff.

Listen to a track from this set here.

K., who'd been out with friends for a swank dinner and drinks, had decided she rather needed more dank in her evening instead, and had joined me during the break before Heaven went on. After their set, I was considering my options for the rest of the night. I had largely come to see these two opening bands, and had no opinion either way on Religious Knives, the night's headliners. I was feeling a bit sleepy and considering whether I should bail and get started homeward while the subway was still running. Once Heaven was done and had broken down their gear, there was no-one else busying around to start setting up. In fact, the house lights went up part way, and, with the smokers out at the curb, the place was alarmingly empty. I asked K. if she'd be interested in ending the night with nachos at Sneaky Dee's, and before I was finished the sentence, she was already walking down College. So my night at the show ended there.4 Dunno where the long-weekend crowds were, but they were probably overpaying for their entertainment elsewhere.


1 This is undoubtedly a rather inadequate history lesson, going back to the local scene before I was really paying that much attention to it. If anyone knows of any resources that do a better job of situating MRS and their work, do let me know. Those innerested in this kind of thing might enjoy this Sarah Liss piece from 2002, which serves to remind us how much the ground has shifted from one end of the decade to the other:

Still, the Spiders insist that they remain fully committed to their shoe-gazer roots. I wonder if that’s what’s keeping them off most people’s radar. The sun has sorta set on the dream pop landscape. Sure, Toronto used to be shoe-gaze central — Italy’s Losing Today zine highlighted the T-dot as a North American hub and sponsored an eponymous Losing Today ethereal-rock fest.

But bands like My Bloody Valentine and Dinosaur Jr. — names that usually get tossed around in a discussion of Mean Red Spiders’ influences — have long since put away their effects pedals and called it a quits. Right now cool is neo-garage, revamped retro-rock like the Strokes and the Hives. So are the Spiders really making music that’s relevant today?

2 To my delight, the instrumentation included a small keyboard — something not unlike the Realistic Concertmate that I own — left on its own on top of an amp, bits of masking tape holding down keys that one could hear quietly burbling away between songs.

3 I had a bear of a time finding my way to their Myspace, so I'll pass along that you can find it here. Perhaps not totally surprisingly, a brief sampling indicates that their live sound is a lot harsher/noisier than their studio tracks.

4 In fact, it turns out that the headliners were a no-show, which I didn't find out until after the fact, so it's good that we didn't bother sticking around any longer.