Recording: No Joy

Artist: No Joy

Song: Slug Night

Recorded at BLK BOX ("NXNE 2013"), June 13, 2013.

No Joy - Slug Night

Full review to follow, but my quick notes for this set can be found here.

Currente calamo: NXNE 2013 (Thursday)

NXNE 2013 (Thursday, June 14, 2013)

While these shows are fresh in my mind I want to get some quick notes down. In the fullness of time there will be a more complete accounting of the night that'll include even more details and recordings.

8 p.m.: Dream Affair @ BLK BOX

I was feeling more inclined to settle in at one spot rather than worry about shuffling around too much, especially on a cool and greyish evening that didn't look conducive to getting around. So I decided to go with this showcase, put together by Pretty Pretty, the dance night-cum-music label run by Cam Findlay and Elliott Jones. The fact that they'd both be playing later on in the evening was a draw, but I also liked the idea of sizing up the undercard and see if anything stuck with me. The venue's sound would be an issue for most of the night, even though in theory this patchcord-heavy kind of lineup should be perfect for the room's new PA system, mostly designed electronic music in mind.

PP's stock-in-trade is dark and synth-y, served with an extra helping of dark, which made the BLK BOX (the current incarnation of the Great Hall's basement) an appropriately-named venue. It is indeed a rather dank/dark space, not unlike a subterranean cavern. As Dream Affair took the stage, it felt all the more broodingly cavernous for having an audience of about fifteen on hand. The Brooklyn-via-other-places trio have an EP out on Artificial records, which makes them labelmates to the likes of Doom Squad. DA's sound is a bit more straight-up dark-edged synth-rock — vocalist/guitarist Hayden Payne looked like he might have been equally at home in a skate-punk band, but he sang with the requisite moody sensibility. If you imagine the background characters in a highschool in a John Hughes movie — the ones hanging out by the smoking doors — this is probably what they'd have on their walkmans. Not entirely distinctive yet, but enjoyable stuff.

Listen to a track from this set here.

9 p.m.: Black Marble @ BLK BOX

Coming after that, Black Marble felt a little, ah, more of the same. Also from Brooklyn, this duo (Chris Stewart and Ty Kube) brought the synths well enough, but didn't put across very much personality at all. Perhaps most telling was how vocalist Stewart set up his keyboards facing away from the audience, leaving even less of a focus on stage when he turned around to play them. The boom-y sound in the room did the band no favours, however, and a lot of their set sounded like listening to someone in the next bunker over cracking up the Depeche Mode, muffled through a thick concrete wall.

10 p.m.: Cellphone @ BLK BOX

Standing astride the "synth band" and "rock band" segments of the night, locals Cellphone definitely brought something more distinct. The band was originally named Skitso Convo, and there is definitely hints of a split personality here — the sonic balance changes a bit from song to song (just as much as the players shift around from instrument to instrument) but the net result is off-kilter metallo-punk with synth elements. It's something you can't quite dance to and can't quite get comfortable with — like an annoying itch that you sort of start to enjoy after a while.

Listen to a couple tracks from this set here.

11 p.m.: Ell V Gore @ BLK BOX

Moving into the headliner part of the night, the crowd (that had been slowly increasing) finally hit the tipping point of the room feeling more full than empty. Pretty Pretty mainman Elliott Jones was using this night to celebrate Sex Static, the first release from Ell V Gore (as well as the first release from Ben Cook's Bad Actors imprint). Even through some lineup changes, the band has been increasingly strong as a live unit and while some of the sonic details were lost in the PA, each song felt driven, like a ferocious beast tearing raw chunks of flesh from its fallen prey. EP opener "Her Vicious" was especially tasty and the band built up to a roar that even the sound system couldn't muffle. I'd catch them again a couple days later on a better-sounding stage and get a bit more out of that, but anyone coming across their slashing goth-punk here for the first time would have walked away impressed.

Midnite: No Joy @ BLK BOX

By midnite, the room was quite full for No Joy. Although I've seen the band a few times before, I was curious to see if there would be any changes in their live presentation, given the huge forward strides they'd taken on their massive-sounding new Wait to Pleasure album. The answer was "not really". Having established their live incarnation as quite-literal shoegazers, ignoring the audience while ferociously playing doubled over their guitars, Jasamine White-Gluz and Laura Lloyd don't seem to be inclined to mess with the formula too much. There is a bit more swagger to it now, as if they're doing this by choice instead of out of necessity. (This was borne out in a slightly more streamlined on-stage presence — gone were the segues of prerecorded movie dialogue, used to cover up long stretches of tuning, for example.) The first two-thirds of the set were devoted to the new album before mixing in a couple from debut Ghost Blonde, and even if this didn't give me cause to readjust my preconceptions of the band, it was still a good time.

Listen to a track from this set here.

1 a.m.: Tonstartssbandht @ BLK BOX

As could be expected, about 75% of the crowd headed for the exits after that, though I was definitely sticking around, as I was intrigued by some of the high praise I'd been hearing for Montréal-via-Florida brother duo Tonstartssbandht, even if I hadn't investigated them too closely. Taking the stage after the night's quickest changeover, the pair launched into a near-continuous stream of twitchy avant-Americana music — imagine hearing a three-hour Grateful Dead set played in thirty minutes and you're on the right track. A lot of the remaining crowd were intensely into this, from the women sitting on the sides of the stage to the dancers on the floor, but I have to confess it somehow didn't click with me at all. Maybe it was fatigue setting in or something, but I didn't get much out of it — though after the set a local musician with impeccable taste commented to me that it was the best set he'd seen in five years.

2 a.m.: Kontravoid @ BLK BOX

As the hour grew late, the crowd thinned out even more, though a few night owls could be seen coming down into the room. They were probably folks who knew that Kontravoid is the sort of band you want to be listening to at the end of the night, when you needed something that could articulate all the stresses building up in your system. Cam Findlay is still playing without his facemask, but that doesn't reduce the menacing air that he brings to his dark synth concoctions. In blackness save for the strobelight at his feet, Findlay's music has the cold austerity of a leather glove slapping against constrained flesh — and there's a certain subset of the population that are willing to shell out to experience just that.

Listen to a track from this set here.

On the whole, a good night, but not an exceptional one. Although the Pretty Pretty aesthetic should be right at home in a dark cavern, the space just didn't quite jibe with the show, and the sound was never as good as the music deserved.

NXNE 2011: Friday

NXNE — North by Northeast Festival, Toronto, 2011.

Friday, June 17, 2011. Featuring: Persian Rugs, The Young Things, The Vandelles, New/France, OFF!, Heavy Cream, No Joy

N.B.: I had written some contemporaneous notes about the festival here. This redux version comes with a few additional observations as I have now had time to properly go through my recordings.

8 p.m.: Persian Rugs @ The Silver Dollar Room

"Thanks for coming early. Or loading in, or whatever you're doing." It felt a little jarring to roll into the Silver Dollar so early, with daylight leaking in through the back door out to the smoking area — it's like seeing Joan Rivers without makeup or something like that. And indeed, it was pretty quiet in the room as the band took the stage. Drummer Matt Rubba faced the situation with humour, calling out the band's name and inventing a fictional new hometown for Persian Rugs after almost every song.

The band's amiable, low-key stage presence endears me to them, but really, I broke my informal embargo on seeing bands that I'd seen before more to see how their songs and stagecraft were evolving. The vocals were passed around some, but keyboardist Kaye Hamilton is the best of the band's singers and rightfully had the most leads. But the variety otherwise generally works when deployed correctly: guitarist Ian Jackson has a serviceable range that gave a sleepy edge to "Phone Call From the Lake" and Matt Rubba's plainspoken vox powered "It's What You Think", complete with a suitably fun fakeout ending.

It's easy to underestimate the talent required to pull off unassuming modesty, but Persian Rugs have a fuzzy, jangly line on a very cardigan sort of sound, just like the light blue one Jackson was wearing. Seeing them live felt like time well-spent with some previously undiscovered Sarah Records band.

Listen to a track from this set here.

9 p.m.: The Young Things @ Comfort Zone

After that, ducked downstairs to the much-less daylight-afflicted Comfort Zone to check out The Young Things, a NYC quartet with a scrappy, somewhat-retro garage sound. Showing a bit of "industry" ambition, they had a friend passing out copies of their debut EP ... is the killer, to the crowd while they knocked out the songs from it nearly in order.

There were hints of a Beatles-y melodic sense, and that would come out a couple more times — as would a decent talent at arranging harmonies. That would be tempered by an equal enjoyment for a scuzzier kind of rock, as evidenced by "All My Friends Are Junkies" — although, to be honest, they didn't quite make me believe that claim. That back-alley tendency in their sound was faced head-on with a Strokes cover — which was perhaps a bit too on the nose.

This was all enjoyable enough, though when the band left the retro-y sensibility behind, like on "Talking Too Loud" (or on the warmed-over blues-isms of "It's So Easy For You To Lie") they veered too much toward a safe, homogenized radio-ready pop sound. Obviously, that's no more or less original than the garage-y stuff, but for me it's nowhere near as compelling. My prognosis was that this is a band that needed to get more primitive in order to progress.

10 p.m.: The Vandelles @ Comfort Zone

The Vandelles were also up from the Big Apple, and one could tell that they had that palpable buzz that The Young Things were clearing coveting. All at once, the area in front of the stage was suddenly filled with photographers staking out space.

And I could get what the excitement was about when they started playing, a blast of reverb and "Be My Baby" drumbeats. Leading off with "Way Through You" (which their bandcamp cheekily suggests was "released 06 June 1966"), the band was showcasing some tracks they were getting ready to record (and which have now been released on their Strange Girls Don't Cry album).

No complaints with what they were doing, but I couldn't help comparing the band to Chains of Love, who I'd seen the night before — a comparison that illustrated The Vandelles' limitations. Chains of Love dove more forcefully into the pool of their musical influences and went deeper into their shtick, going full-out in their stage appearance. Here, however, Vandelles vocalist Jason (no last name given) played in sandals and cut-off jeans, though bassist Lulu (also no last name given, and fighting a bad back by playing while braced against a tall chair) looked more the part.

And musically, the band were willing to get a little sloppy and could even hint at some Jesus and Mary Chain velocity, but it felt too much like these were ill-fitting sheets draped over songs that really didn't invest themselves fully in the sensibility they were playing at. The fact that they would more recently be selected to open some touring dates for JAMC implies that maybe they're a better fit with that sound than I was giving them credit for, and as they closed with a trio of songs from their Summer Fling EP I was certainly willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Listen to a track from this set here.

11 p.m.: New/France @ El Mocambo

Crossing the street, I went to this on a hunch, finding something interesting in a blurb mentioning that the band featured "ex and present members of local stalwarts Groovy Religion and La Casa Muerte". Besides the notion of a band mixing together musicians from different generations, the Groovy Religion connection intrigued me.

And, indeed, this band would have no less than Groovy Religion's William New on vocals. Perhaps this linkage of players (who didn't immediately look like they all belonged in the same band) arose from the same ethos New has displayed as a founder of Elvis Mondays — an essential community-building role in T.O.'s indie scene stretching from the 80's to today. Guitarist Roy Pike looks to be of the same vintage, but I can't dig up much about him — and he lacks an index entry in Have Not Been The Same.

Regardless, he did an ace job trading corrosive riffs with Bo Frantz (the Casa Muerte connection, making the band's moniker a bit of a play on words on its two founders' last names) in a stereo back-and-forth of bracing minimalism. The sound was tied together by Jenny Charlton's Mo Tucker-ish drums, played standing up with mallets. There were some superb moments here, with that guitar give-and-take and New tersely sing-speaking his lines in a voice somewhere between Art Bergmann and Iggy Pop while staring down the crowd with a thousand-yard stare beaming out from under his wild nest of hair.

New clearly didn't always feel the need to be the focus, and when not singing, he'd sometimes simply wander to the back of the stage, facing away from the crowd, while the guitars duked it out. And while there were a couple points where things were a bit out of sync and the drums skipped a beat, on the whole this was a rewarding moment of no wave-ish menace. "Moment" is key here — although I did get another chance to see this unit, my understanding is that it was not built to last and is no longer active. Bo Frantz has shifted gears to the promising new Das Rad, while William New endures as William New.

I'd posted one track from this set here — but given that it seems like you won't be able to hear these songs anywhere else I've added another one here.

12 a.m.: OFF! @ The Horseshoe

As the New/France set moved along, there was a shifting dynamic in the crowd at the El Mo, with a different cadre of folks building up at the front anticipating a reunion set by Rusty. That wasn't my scene, so I headed out and ducked down Spadina to Queen Street.

I had something more ambitious in mind, and for once I was going to see one of the more-hyped bands at the festival — which meant, of course, that I was dubious that I'd be able to get in. But with a plethora of good bands playing at midnight, I figured I'd be okay in settling for one of my Plan B's — so much so that I was more than mildly surprised when I managed to get into a packed, sweaty 'Shoe just minutes before OFF! took the stage.

Though I don't have an immense background in hardcore, I do like to feel the energy of it every once in a while, and this new group of veterans seemed like a can't-lose proposition. Fronted by Keith Morris — original Black Flag vocalist and founder of the Circle Jerks — the band includes Burning Brides frontman Dimitri Coats on guitar and Rocket From The Crypt/Hot Snakes drummer Mario Rubalcaba. Rounding out the lineup is bassist Steven McDonald (of Redd Kross fame), younger than the others but emerging from the same Californian milieu.

"Stephen and I go back to a place called The Church in Hermosa Beach," Morris told the crowd. "And we hope that we can transport some of you back there tonight." Evoking the golden age of west coast hardcore (right down to the Raymond Pettibon cover art on the albums) is the band's stock-in-trade.

Even with a slim catalogue of songs to their name, the band had no problem filling out their timeslot when Morris' raps and introductions were considered. Highly entertaining (if a little erratic), Morris discoursed on post-9/11 politics with as much direct intensity as he welded in considering what to do with the errant shoe that had been flung onto the stage. The two things, it turned out, didn't have anything to do with each other, though the possibility was discussed. It also provoked some audience interaction:

Dude in crowd: Play a song!

Morris: Dude, what's your hurry? It's fuckin' Friday night. Where ya goin'... mom and dad gonna show up in the SUV?

When they did focus on the music, the band started at the beginning of the first of their EP's with "Black Thoughts", following it with a couple more of its mates (including an excellent "I Don't Belong") before pausing for a break for Morris to offer forth some more discourse. That set the pattern of two-three song rapidfire bursts followed by pauses for Morris to banter. Both parts of the performance — banter and music — were equally entertaining and just standing back in the crowd watching (I didn't need to be near the frothing moshpit) drained me. But still, great fun.

Listen to a couple quick songs from this set here.

1 a.m.: Heavy Cream @ Comfort Zone

Headed back up the street for another band that I'd seen before, mostly because when I'd first seen bouncy Tennessee crew Heavy Cream at CMW they were suffering through a set with terrible sound. I was able to get the impression that this was my kind of thing, but it was hard to really appreciate them. And though they were battling with some issues here as well — as the last band of the night, they were suffering from a drumkit that was coming apart at the seams — this was a much better showing.

It took 'em a couple songs to get warmed up, but the one-two punch of "Watusi" and "I Know This" was quite fun — sorta like a meeting of the minds between Be Your Own Pet and The Ramones. The band was a constant blur of energy, especially from vocalist Jessica, who exhibited classic frontwoman magnetism, bouncing and shimmying without missing a note.

They played a fair number of songs that would later turn up on this year's Super Treatment, which was produced, notably, by Ty Segall with a lot more oomph than their earlier recordings. And even when the songs might have sounded a little silly ("Summer Bummer" was one title here) the band was seriously into it. The set was over in a flash, leaving a most pleasant aftertaste.

Listen to a track from this set here.

2 a.m.: No Joy @ The Silver Dollar Room

And, making the night close out full circle, it was back upstairs to see another "secret guest" that was pretty widely advertised in advance. I was pretty eager to get a chance to see Montréal's No Joy, whose Ghost Blonde album had really impressed me. Live, the four-piece brought a bit more animation to their shoegazey tunes than I was expecting — the title track, which lead off the set, got some more "push" that isn't there on the album from the drummer.

That wouldn't be expressed with much physical animation, mind you — singer/guitarists Jasmine White-Glutz and Laura Lloyd (the co-founders of the band) were shoegazers in the most literal sense, playing doubled over, their long blonde fair almost constantly obscuring their faces. Sort of the Thurston Moore school of guitar playing, just as there was certainly a bit of Sonic Youth in the band's music. They weren't much for banter, coming and leaving the stage without saying a word, preferring to build up segues between songs (on a couple occasions with sampled film dialogue) instead of creating dead time that might encourage audience interaction.

The set was mostly material from the album, though it did closing out with an extended run through The Shangri-Las' "He Cried", the bassline holding steady to anchor a few minutes' guitar noise to close things out. The musicians weren't inclined to acknowledge the audience but the set definitely made a solid impact on me.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Currente calamo: The Wavelength TWELVE! Festival (Part II)

TWELVE: The Wavelength 12th Anniversary Festival

While it's all fresh in my mind, a few notes from this year's WL Fest. Longer, more comprehensive reviews will follow down the road a piece.

Last year's Wavelength festival had a transitional feel, just as WL itself did in shedding its old skin as a weekly series and trying on new formats like so many hats. But throughout 2011, Wavelength really gained strength, with new blood on the programming team and a willingness to try some new and interesting things. It's befitting, then, that this year's festival was more streamlined (down to four nights) and bold in its lineups, reaching out to some bigger names for the headliners while still mixing in a lot of newer, less-well-known acts. My recap of the first two nights can be found here.

Night 3 @ The Great Hall

Saturday, February 18, 2012. The Weather Station / Off The International Radar / Nat Baldwin / Sandro Perri / No Joy

Not too many bodies in the stately (if somewhat echo-y) Great Hall as Tamara Lindeman took the stage. Her Weather Station project might be best suited for listening to 'round a campfire under a starry sky, but it was a fine table-setter here. It was easier to fill the space now that she's being joined by friends to fill out the songs from All of It Was Mine. Ian Kehoe (of Marine Dreams) and Andrew Barker (her bandmate in Bruce Peninsula) added instrumental textures, while fellow BP'ers Misha Bower and Matt Cully came on for some backing vocals. You don't want to wish a small crowd on any artist, but I'm super-glad it was quiet enough in the hall to lean back and listen to this without interruption.

It's perhaps a little bit surprising that the longest-tenured band at the festival was arguably the one that I knew the least about, but I had never crossed paths before with Off The International Radar. Kudos to the WL crew for putting 'em on the bill though, as this was one of my favourite sets of the festival. Employing electronics and keyboards and filled out with bass and guitar, the first word to come to mind as a descriptive would be "planetarium". The slowburning textures might come off as anticlimactic to anyone waiting for the band to kick into a higher gear, but once I caught the rhythm I felt all my limbs getting heavy and a pleasant, zoned-out sensation come over me. And quite perfectly accompanied by General Chaos' swirling lights slowly shifting away behind the band.

Listen to a couple tracks from this set here.

I've never particularly cottoned to Dirty Projector's brand of decentred contemporary haze-pop, which might explain why I never checked out any of the solo material from DP bassist Nat Baldwin. But here, as he set up for a solo set accompanied only by double bass, I was a little intrigued — if only to see if he'd be able to hold the growing crowd's attention. Limiting himself almost entirely to short-stroke bow work, Baldwin still managed to create enough musical range to accompany his pure-pitched vocals. There were a few mildly aharmonic runs here and there, but his approach hewed closer to popcraft than avant garde-isms. But still not too surprising that the chatter from the back of the room started to pick up as the set moved along. Enjoyable regardless, and a nice little challenge to the audience to pay attention.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Since his album release shows back in November, there's been a little bit of buzz for Sandro Perri, and from the crowd's reaction, you might have guessed that he was the night's headliner. Which is kind of awesome to see for an experimental singer-songwriter backed by a band of all-star improvisers. Balancing woozy keyboard workouts with polyrhythmic accents, I liked it most when the band stretched things out and let it cook. Perri is taking this material on the road soon with some of these musicians who can really do it justice — there's gonna be a lot of acclaim echoed wherever he takes this stuff, but somehow I'm glad to see that this really is getting some hometown love before all that happens.

After that came the shoegazing treatment that Montréal's No Joy excel at. But whether it was their intense volume or the late hour, the full crowd was steadily melting away as they played. No matter, this probably sounded the best of any of the times I've seen 'em — and we were treated to a bunch of new material, building on the strengths of their Ghost Blonde album. As always, the band were rigourously uncommunicative while on stage, but I was glad to see 'em chatting and laughing at the merch table afterwards.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Night 4 @ The Garrison

Sunday, February 19, 2012. Most People / Motëm / Army Girls / Burning Love / PS I Love You

Capping it all off was a night back at WL's Dundas West spiritual homebase. There was a surprisingly vigourous crowd on hand soon after doors, and it just kept getting more and more packed. Certainly more on hand than I would have expected for bedroom popsters Most People. The bearded duo had a laptop on stage for backing tracks, but managed to keep things feeling live with guit, bass and a sundry assortment of drums laid out before them. That gave the songs enough momentum to keep things interesting, even if the overall vibe was more laid-back. Is "post-chillwave" a genre yet?

Amongst the changes in Motëm's stage setup was replacing the candles he had last time with battery-powered versions of same. Whether that was some sort of nod to the meta-artifice of his persona — or even if whether or not what he was doing was meant as ironic artifice — I cannot say. Otherwise, the Hamilton-based swkeee-hopper brought a totally different musical set to backdrop his enthusiastic stage routine. I thought the music was a little tastier, but on the whole, I'm unsure on the persona, and I really can't say that I "get" what the whole routine is about.

After that came the shift from the "pop" to the "loud" part of the night, making Army Girls the perfect transitional agent. Drummer Andy Smith and singer/guitarist Carmen Elle just celebrated two years of playing together, so it's no surprise that they're tinkering and finding new ways to keep the older material interesting. Even better, though, was a bunch of new tunes bound for the band's first full-length that showed no dropoff in quality. All of it was warmly received, and this was the closest I've felt to an audience demanding an encore from a mid-bill band in a while.

Listen to a track from this set here.

I sort of sidled a little further away from the centre of the room after that, as I was expecting some moshing action for local hardcore group Burning Love. And while a big pocket opened up in front of the stage as the band got started, the pit never really took off, just creating a large open area for two or three preening guys to shove and posture at each other while everyone else had to squeeze into a smaller space. Not my idea of fun. But I did like the roar coming from the stage, delivered with wide-legged rock stances from the guitarists and bass player. Chris Colohan, meanwhile, delivered the lyrics with a crouch and a growl, occasionally springing down to prowl around that open area on the floor in front of the stage. Because of the preferred vibe differential, I pretty much never go out of my way to see hardcore shows. But I do like seeing it done well, so this is one more case where I'm glad WL was throwing something like this into the mix.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Up to this point, WL stage manager Adham Ghanem had once again kept things running admirably on time. It was only a balky microphone connection before the last act that kept the festival from having a perfect record top to bottom. Still, this set's slightly delayed start was still more efficient than most any other rock show you could think of, and once PS I Love You got going, no one was kvetching about the wait. It was really satisfying to see the fruits of Paul Saulnier's successful labours in the form of a spiffy double-necked guitar that he played for most of the set. There was also the chance to broaden the group's sound by having old friend Tim Bruton (Matters/Forest City Lovers) on stage, playing keyboards and second guitar. The set was based upon some of the new songs coming out on the forthcoming Death Dreams album, though there were a few older audience-pleasers mixed in there as well. Firery soloing from Saulnier abounded, so there's no doubt that the new album is going to be filled with shreddy goodness. The night — and the festival — were capped off with John O'Regan (a.k.a Diamond Rings) coming out to sing on "Leftovers" and "Facelove" during the encore.

Listen to a track from this set here.

All told, an excellently curated and executed festival. The initially-announced "workshop & speaker series" didn't come together, but even without that it felt like an action-packed long weekend. Many thanks are due to Jonny, Ryan, Kevin, Duncan, Dorice, Adam and Adham — plus General Chaos and all the volunteers who kept things going smoothly. Details about the next few events are already starting to come out, and it looks like there's more exciting things afoot. Thirteen might be luckiest year of them all.

Recording: No Joy

Artist: No Joy

Song: Ghost Blonde

Recorded at The Great Hall (Wavelength TWELVE! Festival, Night 3), February 18, 2012.

No Joy - Ghost Blonde

Review to follow, but my quick recap of the festival can be found here.

Recording: No Joy

Artist: No Joy

Song: Maggie Says I Love You

Recorded at The Silver Dollar (NXNE 2011), June 17, 2011.

No Joy - Maggie Says I Love You

My notes for this set can be found here.

Currente calamo: NXNE 2011 (Friday)

NXNE 2011 (Friday, June 17, 2011)

While these shows are fresh in my mind I want to get some quick notes down. I'm a nerd for not wanting to throw my full reviews out of sequence, so there'll be a fuller accounting of the night by and by that'll include all the details on the in-store show and ambivalent feelings of getting to skip past the lineup.

8 p.m.: Persian Rugs @ Silver Dollar

Broke my informal embargo on bands that I've seen before to check in with Persian Rugs. Felt a little jarring to roll into the Silver Dollar so early, with daylight leaking in through the back door out to the smoking area — it's like seeing Joan Rivers without makeup or something like that. It was pretty quiet in the room as the band took the stage, but it did fill in some as the set progressed. Drummer Matt Rubba faced the situation with humour, calling out the band's name and inventing a fictional new hometown after almost every song.

Starting off with some fuzzy, jangly fun, the band exhibited a very cardigan sort of sound, just like the light blue one singer/guitarist Ian Jackson was wearing. The musical maturity that I was looking for after the last time I saw 'em was certainly on offer, and it felt like there was more coherence to the band's sound, with the songs now feeling more like they're facets of the same general underlying shape. Hopefully the band has a few more songs ahead of them of the calibre of "Phone Call From the Lake" and "Always All", and in the meantime, seeing them live feels like time well-spent with some Sarah Records band you hadn't previously discovered.

9 p.m.: The Young Things @ Comfort Zone

Ducked downstairs after to check out this NYC quartet with a scrappy, somewhat-retro garage sound. The first song had a Beatles-y melodic sense, and that would come out a couple more times — as would a decent talent at arranging harmonies. That would be tempered by an equal enjoyment for a scuzzier kind of rock, as evidenced by "All My Friends Are Junkies". That tendency in their sound was faced head-on — and perhaps a bit too on the nose — with a Strokes cover.

This was all enjoyable enough, though when the band left the retro-y sensibility behind, they veered too much toward a safe, homogenized radio-ready pop sound. Obviously, that's no more or less original than the garage-y stuff, but it's nowhere near as compelling. In the long run, this is a band that needs to get more primitive in order to progress.

10 p.m.: The Vandelles @ Comfort Zone

The Vandelles were also up from the Big Apple, and one could tell that somehow or another they've got a bit of that palpable buzz around them, as the area in front of the stage was suddenly filled with photographers. And when they started playing, one could see the immediately charming elements in play, including reverb and "Be My Baby" drumbeats. The following songs were a bit less overtly forged from that template.

This was good enough, but I couldn't help comparing the band in my mind to Chains of Love, who I'd seen the night before — a comparison that showed The Vandelles' limitations. CoL dove more forcefully into the pool of their musical influences and went deeper into their shtick, going full out in their stage appearance. meanwhile, Vandelles vocalist Jason (no last name given) played in sandals and cut-off jeans. Bassist Lulu (also no last name given, and fighting a bad back by playing while braced against a tall chair) looked more the part. And musically, the band were willing to get a little sloppy and could even hint at some JAMC velocity, but it felt too much like these were all ill-fitting clothing draped over songs that really didn't invest themselves fully in the sensibility they were playing at.

11 p.m.: New/France @ El Mocambo

Went to this on the thinnest possible hunch, finding something interesting in a blurb mentioning that the band featured "ex and present members of local stalwarts Groovy Religion and La Casa Muerte". The Groovy Religion connection interested me as much as the very notion of a band mixing together musicians from different generations, and it turned out that it was no less than William New on vocals. Perhaps this linkage of players (who didn't immediately look like they all belonged in the same band) arose from the same ethos New displayed as a founder of Elvis Mondays — an essential community-building role in T.O.'s 80's indie scene. Guitarist Roy Pike looks to be of the same vintage, but I can't dig up much about him — and he lacks an index entry in Have Not Been The Same.

Regardless, he did an ace job trading corrosive riffs with Bo Frantz (the Casa Muerte connection, making the band's moniker a bit of a play on words on its two founders' last names) in a stereo back-and-forth of bracing minimalism. The sound was tied together by Jenny Charlton's Mo Tucker-ish drums, played standing up with mallets. There were some superb moments here, with that guitar give-and-take and New tersely delivering his lines while staring down the crowd. There were also a few points where things were a bit out of sync and the drums skipped a beat, but on the whole, this was a rewarding bit of no wave-ish menace.

Listen to a track from this set here.

12 a.m.: OFF! @ The Horseshoe

With a plethora of good bands playing at midnight, I figured I'd be heading for one of my Plan B's — so much so that I was more than mildly surprised when I managed to get into a packed, sweaty 'Shoe just minutes before OFF! took the stage. Though I don't have an immense background in hardcore, I do like me some once in a while, and this new group of veterans has been building a ferocious rep.

The band is fronted by Keith Morris — original Black Flag vocalist and founder of the Circle Jerks — and he's certainly the focus on stage. Even with a slim catalogue of songs to their name, the band had no problem filling out their timeslot when Morris's raps and introductions were considered. Highly entertaining (if a little erratic), Morris discoursed on post-9/11 politics with as much direct intensity as he welded in considering what to do with the errant show that had been flung onto the stage.

When the songs started, he gave a theatrical performance while flanked by Steven Shane McDonald (bass, famed for his work in Redd Kross) who kept stoically still in a wide-legged stance and guitarist Dimitri Coats who bounced around a little more. Each blast of music was accompanied by a fairly frothing moshpit. Both parts of the performance — banter and music — were equally entertaining and just standing back in the crowd watching this drained me. Great fun.

Listen to a couple quick songs from this set here.

1 a.m.: Heavy Cream @ Comfort Zone

Another band that I'd seen before, but when I'd first seen this bouncy Tennessee crew at CMW they were suffering through a set with terrible sound. I was able to get the impression that this was my kind of thing, but it was hard to really appreciate them. And though they were battling with some issues here as well — as the last band of the night, they were suffering from a drumkit that was coming apart at the seams — this was a much better showing. Sort of like a meeting of the minds between Be Your Own Pet and The Ramones, this was a constant blur of energy, especially from vocalist Jessica, who bounced and shimmied without missing a note. Even if the songs might sound a little silly ("Summer Bummer" was one title here) the band was seriously into it. The set was over in a flash, leaving a most pleasant aftertaste.

2 a.m.: No Joy @ Silver Dollar

Another "secret guest" that was pretty widely advertised in advance, I was pretty eager to get a chance to see Montréal's No Joy, whose Ghost Blonde album had really impressed me. Live, the four-piece brought a bit more animation to their shoegazey tunes than I was expecting — the title track, which lead off the set, got some more "push" from the drummer that isn't there on the album.

Singer/guitarists Jasmine White-Glutz and Laura Lloyd (the co-founders of the band) were shoegazers in the most literal sense, playing doubled over, their long blonde fair almost constantly obscuring their faces. Sort of the Thurston Moore school of guitar playing, and there was certainly a bit of Sonic Youth in the band's music. They weren't much for banter or crowd interaction, coming and leaving the stage without saying a word. Regardless, this made a solid impact on me.

Listen to a track from this set here.