Recording: Beams

Artist: Beams

Song: How Wonderful^*

Recorded at Trinity-Bellwoods Park (Pitter Patter Festival Five), September 16, 2012.

Beams - How Wonderful

Full review to follow. It might be mildly unnerving to hear a band singing a murder ballad where the deed is done "in the shadow of my favourite tree" when you are, in fact, sitting under a particularly nice one in Trinity-Bellwoods. And while there's a spooky frisson from Keith Hamilton's singing saw, the band's overall vibe was as sunny as the glorious day. Part of the Pitter Patter Festival, you'll be able to hear (and see) more of this set thanks to the folks at Live in Bellwoods, but here's a teaser for now, complete with a bit of wind noise against my mics toward the end.

^* Thanks to ragandbone for passing along the title to this one.

Festival: P.S. Kensington (May)

P.S. Kensington (May) (feat. RatTail and Tripping Hazard @ Wavelength Stage; Speaking Tongues, Planet Creature and The Diableros @ Pitter Patter Stage; Mr. Something Something)

Kensington Market. Sunday, May 30, 2010.

A boiling hot day on the season's inaugural Pedestrian Sunday in Kensington Market. With liquid sun pouring down, the streets were still pretty full as I made my way down to hang around and check out some music. It's actually impossible to avoid on Pedestrian Sundays — up and down the length of Augusta and Kensington, there are groups and soloists set up every few feet creating a symphony as varied at the market itself, with everything from folkie miserabilism to hippie-barefoot-dancing didgeridoo funk. And although this gives the chance for some random discoveries, I was actually folding that around a more structured plan, with a couple beloved indie institutions each running stages at opposite ends of Augusta Ave.

Up at the top of the street just off College, Wavelength was set up at the Faceless Knifefighter stage, in the shadow of the convenience store and right up beside the fancy new bike rack/sculpture. Or, almost set up, as there was a last-minute scramble for equipment underway as I strolled by, members of the afternoon's bands trying to catch some respite from the heat on the shadowed steps near Neutral's doors. But given that this was more of an all day drop-in thing, not being rigourously on top of any sort of schedule wasn't too much of an impediment.

Anyways, once things were set up, the day was initiated by local trio RatTail, who had impressed me back in January. The set featured the main ingredients I remembered from then — a solid and melodic rhythm section creating the foundation for Jasmyn Burke's efforts, both vocally and on guitar. It seems like RatTail's repertoire is growing quickly, with several songs in the setlist that they didn't play when at that last show, including "In Bloom" (not a cover, though Burke did dedicate it to Kurt Cobain). Lots of catchy stuff like "Gasmask", with Burke playing more of a static rhythm part and Ryan Mounsey's bass carrying things along. And also some variety, such as "Go Green", which went for a slower burn. The seven-song set ended with "George Mounsey", the catchy title track to the band's newly-released 7" E.P.

Besides the small-ish clump of friends splayed out on the steps across the street, there was the usual sort of random band-on-street crowd, with passers-by occasionally nodding a bit as they moved past, as well as some kung-fu mutterers taking things in.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Next up were Tripping Hazard, a name that I'd seen listed for shows here and there but had never caught up with. Poking around, they prefer to swathe themselves in mystery on their myspace page, so I can't fill in much information about them, but they look to have been around for a little while. The band's predominant sound was mellow but not necessarily soft — back when the classic rock stations used to play forty-five minute uninterrupted sets, you'd hear something mildly jazzy like this stuck in about two-thirds of the way through, before things would crank up to higher velocities.¹

But with co-ed vox, and the keyb central to their sound, this was cut with a college-rock sort of sound, which added a winning element to songs like "Thumbsucker". There was a relaxed sense of languor to their songs, although they also kept 'em short — with this sort of sound, you could imagine the band slipping into side-long simmering jams, but they kept things two-minutes-and-out concise. Well-suited to a day like this, where you can appreciate the groove, but it's too hot out to move around too much.

At set's end, as Doc Pickles oratorical outro entertained some musings on the new bike rack, I went for a wander. The Wavelength stage was ongoing throughout the afternoon, but as it turned out, I spent most of the rest of the day down at the other end of Augusta Street, where a small stage had been set up in front the The Boat's doors, with some bands playing in conjunction with the Pitter Patter Festival.

Setting up as I ambled by were local duo The Speaking Tongues, rocking out with a pretty straight-ahead blues-rock sound. There were a few hints of garage-y scuzz nibbling at the edges, mostly in the rough-hewn stripped-down rawness evoked by the the two-man set-up. With some respectable originals and a few covers — including an apt go at Eddie Cochran's "Summertime Blues" — the band did a nice job of keeping the beat moving for the length of their set, but didn't do a lot to distinguish themselves. Okay enough, I guess, but not especially grabbing. This was undemanding stuff, more suited for casual listening than close examination.²

Filling in the between-set time, I moved up the street a little bit where local Afro-Beat force Mr. Something Something³ were hosting their pedal-powered dance party, with volunteers' bikes hooked up to the generator that was powering the sound system. As I found a vantage point, the band were launching into "Di Bombs", a critique of globalism in the form of a funky ten-minute jam. Clearly taking musical and social cues from Fela, there was a big crowd on hand dancing away to this. Good fun. "What are You Waiting For?", the following song and closer for this set, was more ballad and less funky. Still nice, but less grabbing. A big crowd gathered around to enjoy this.

Back in front of The Boat, Planet Creature were leading off with a quiet song. It'd been awhile since I'd last seen 'em⁴ and now sporting a re-tooled lineup, it sounded like the band had honed in on their sound a little more. Perhaps from rubbing shoulders with their fellow Optical Sounds bands the group has learned how to lean into a groove a bit — evidenced here by a smokin' instrumental especially, but on evidence throughout the set. Brooke Gagne (guit) and Kristina Koski (keyb) seem to be focusing on sleeker lines — it's as if the songs are being pushed forward by a higher-efficiency engine. Excitingly, one that the band called out as a new one was as good as anything I've heard from them.

Out on the street, the sound wasn't totally ideal, with the vocals rather buried throughout. I remain eager to get a chance to hear this lineup again in higher fidelity.

With the sun a bit lower in the sky, there were more shady spots on the pavement as The Diableros closed out the stage for the day. Going all the way to the far end of their discography, they started with "Working Out Words", the opener from their '05 debut You Can't Break the Strings in Our Olympic Hearts, chasing that with "Any Other Time" from its follow-up Aren't Ready for the Country. It seems as if every time I see this line-up of the band they've re-inserted one or two more songs from the back catalogue.

Meanwhile, the newer stuff was represented as well. The superb "Heavy Hands" from last year's Old Story, Fresh Road EP was a standout. Plus, there was a glimpse into some brand new material — includuing one called "Thunder Tracker". The band was in fine fettle throughout, with Keith Hamilton's fuzzy bass playing off Jordan Walsh's keys. The vocals were buried a fair bit for this set, too, and it sounded like a Brazilian drum corps had settled in down the street. Their percussive bursts kept wafting over between songs, which added a strange undercurrent to the quieter closing strains of closer "Old Story, Fresh Road".

Listen to a track from this set here.

Ran into K. in the crowd during the set, and at its conclusion we decided to retire from the street to a nearby patio to close out the evening with some beers — proper hydration being all-important on days like this.⁵

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¹ Riffing on that jazzy undertow in the music, while keeping things going in one of the the little between-song gaps, the band threw down with an impromptu bit of the Super Mario music.

² Which isn't to question the band's work ethic or their admirable efforts to spread their music — not only were they offering free live CD's to the audience at this show, but they also recorded a Third Floor session, which you can grab for free here.

³ The longstanding crew has four albums to their credit, stretching back to 2004.

⁴ Coincidentally, that show was just a few feet over — and one floor up, at another gig at The Boat with The Diableros.

⁵ The next Pedestrian Sunday is on August 29th. Go!

Recording: Terror Lake

Artist: Terror Lake

Song: Redskin Panic

Recorded at Rancho Relaxo (Pitter Patter Festival), May 28, 2010.

Terror Lake - Redskin Panic

My notes for this set can be found here.

Gig: Pitter Patter Festival 2010 (Friday)

Pitter Patter Festival 2010 (feat. Terror Lake, The Famines, Pkew Pkew Pkew)

Rancho Relaxo. Friday, May 28, 2010.

The Fucked Up gig at the Reference Library ended in good time for me to make my way down to Rancho, climbing up the stairs and emerging into a comfortably-filled room pretty much just in time to catch Pkew Pkew Pkew finishing their set-up on stage. Previously unknown to me, I soon found out that there's no bait-and-switch here, as the band exhibits a level of sophistication pretty much on par with their band name — the blessing and curse of it all is right there on display. It's a little bit like the same gang of boys who had, a few years ago, been playing with toy guns in a tree fort with a "no girls allowed" sign out front had moved on to a garage band, the sign replaced with lyrical sentiments like "friends don't let friends move in with girlfriends".

Live, they sounded at times like a very drunk Weezer running through a B-52's cover, forgetting what they were playing and ending on some old chugalug country song. Kinda fun but they lost me some when they led off "Clever Girl" with a chorus of "Kokomo" — these lads are obviously too young to remember the widespread psychic damage that this song caused in the late 80's. Which is also about the last time some of the jokey sampled sound effects (cheering audience noises, etc.) might have seemed clever. Plus, sometimes the maturity level of the lyrics ("Why does the dick have to be such a cock?") dipped to somewhere below the schoolyard potty-mouth level.

On the flipside, though, that lyric comes from "Asshole Pandemic", which still manages to be insidiously catchy — and that counts in the band's favour.¹ Plus, the lads handled themselves well on stage, with solid musicianship segueing effortlessly from one song to the next while they were obviously having a ball on stage. Employing that contemporary yelpy team vocals thing, with songs based on repeated chantable bits, makes it hard not to hit on something a little catchy now and then — but it can also get same-y in a hurry. Not everything stuck with me — or even hit me the right way, but they were certainly likable on a song like "Demille Bop" with its deadpan sing-speak.

Ending with their self-titled ode to friendships forged through drunkenness and inertia ("We ain't got nowhere to be tonight so we're just gonna sit and drink here/ We're all buddies and we all brought beers so we're just gonna sit and drink here") this band is willing to share a clubhouse with anyone who wants to raise a pint and revel in life's simple, pottymouthed joys. If that sounds beneath you, well, it's nowhere near impossible that maturity might catch up with these guys, smooth out the shout-y edges and shape them into slightly wiser (if no less boozier) songsmiths. So keep an eye on 'em.²

After the loose and relaxed approach of the opening set, things got tenser and tightened up with The Famines. The duo (guit, drums) from Edmonton hit the stage with an aggressively harsh sound. It's common, when speaking of two-man bands, for people to say that they sound like more. Famines do in fact just sound like two guys, albeit two guys playing bloody loud. There's a certain underlying spareness to their sound, and not much bottom end, but still enough noise to make your ears bleed a little. As far as duos go, this one's lineage might be somewhere a few generations down the evolutionary tree from Deja Voodoo, but without the swampiness. Indeed, there was a whiff of 80's postpunk hardrock at play in their music.³

Live, the focus was less on the songs than the performance. The dance floor wasn't packed, and with some open space in front of him, singer/guitarist Raymond Biesinger ranged well off the stage — at one point confusing the hell out of a patron entering the venue at the top of the stairs, clearly not expecting to find a guy with a guitar standing a couple feet away from him. The cat-like Biesinger seemed eager to explore any spot that he could squeeze himself into, and by the middle of the set he was sprawled out on the ground, and after that almost curled up in a foetal position between the cabinets at the foot of the stage. Meanwhile, while he was cozied up there, drummer Garrett Kruger took to the floor, too, dragging a mic stand with him and wrapping the cord around a guy standing in front of me, pulling him against the wall in some sort of embrace. All of which is to say that even if the songs weren't memorable, the overall performance was a good time.

I'd seen Terror Lake at last year's Pitter Patter, and had enjoyed them enough that I'd been meaning to see them again. Though it took longer than I expected to revisit the trio, I'm glad to note that everything I liked last year is still in place, the band still mixing surfy twang and raucous energy in just the right measures.

the set launched with the catchy "Freehold", light on lyrics and long on energy. I dig the way that the band is comfortable starting their songs off with a couple minutes of instrumental groove before drummer Wendy⁴ would add her voice. Guitarist Matt sang on "Tigers & Lab Rats", which was welcome for adding some variety to the set, although his vocals aren't as cuttingly distinctive as Wendy's. In fact, it was good to see the band knows both the formula that they work best in as well as when to push away from it a bit, such as on a run through the VU's "Rock & Roll", which is a bit of a departure from their core sound but still fits in nicely with the two-guitar interplay.

The band also slowed things down and stretched them out on "Redskin Panic", which had some nice textured edges before ending closer to the starting point with the spiky kiss-off "Sucks 4 U". The crowd wanted one more ("are you sure?" Wendy asked, making it sound more like a genuinely surprised question than rock-star toy-with-the-crowd move) and the band stepped back in for "Jix", which segued into a rockabilly-styled number that that sounded like a distant grand-nephew of Johnny Burnette's "Train Kept A-Rollin'".

Terror Lake are a superb party band and a lot of fun to listen to — but don't take that to imply that there isn't some solid craftsmanship under the hood. Well worth seeing, and more than once a year at that.

Listen to a track from this set here.

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¹ Which is one of a half-dozen tracks on their recently-released Royalty EP, which captures the band's energy level fairly well, mixing the campfire singalongs ("Friends Don't Let Friends Move In With Girlfriends", "Oysters & Wine") with the shouty group chants ("Stop Calling Us, Chief", "Asshole Pandemic"), in a package that plays to the band's strengths without hanging around for too long.

² And if you're eager to see 'em right away, take note that they are playing this Friday (August 13th) at The Silver Dollar, and also have a Saturday night (September 11th) lined up at Rancho.

³ And, interestingly, as seems to be disproportionally common for rock'n'roll duos, this pair seem to have a flair for design exhibited in a rigourous visual aesthetic — on display from the stylized "F" on the kickdrum to their meticulously packaged merch (including a seven-song live cassette accompanied by "accompanied by 268 pages of contextual liner notes").

⁴ "No Fuss" may be as much of a motto as a song title for the band, with no last names furnished at the band's myspace or website — just Wendy (drums + vocals), Tim (guitar) and Matt (guitar).

Gig: Pitter Patter Festival 2010 (Thursday)

Pitter Patter Festival 2010 (feat. The Hoa Hoa's, The City Streets, Epigram)

The Horseshoe. Thursday, May 27, 2010.

Returning for another year of not-for-profit idealism, the strictly pay-what-you-can Pitter Patter Festival is increasingly ambitious in scope, with shows in Toronto at fourteen venues over three spring nights, as well as well as nearly a dozen out-of-town venues, allowing both visiting bands as well as locals getting their feet wet to set up a quick mini-tour. With that unbeatable price, it's an excellent chance to go out and get familiar with some new bands. In that spirit, on the festival's opening night I found me a lineup that offered a couple groups I knew nothing about, anchored by one of my favourites — meaning I knew there'd be something I'd like if the thrill of the new didn't pan out.

First up in front of a pretty quiet room was local quartet Epigram. Two guitarists, each with a large rack of pedals, were flanking the bassist at centre stage. No mics, I noted — and indeed there'd be no vocals during the set. That, and the extended lengths of their songs, would possibly indicate their name was chosen with a certain wryly-raised-eyebrow sense of misdirection.

The set started with a couple minutes of quiet interplay, one guitar's gentle line playing against the other's e-bow before martial drums came in, building in a chimingly atmospheric ascension. The tones were more soaring than aggressive, and the song's construction used a build-and-release template, stretching out seven minutes.

Perhaps the liberal application of the e-bow here would be the best indicator of the mood that the band was interested in exploring — gliding, shimmering and dreamy. Perhaps it makes sense, then, that their forthcoming sophomore album is entitled Reverie. For better or worse, the band mostly stuck with that throughout, lending a unified sound to a set that detractors might call too much of the same thing. By the last selection I was feeling a bit of that as well.

I note that the band discusses using a wider instrumental palette ("piano, organ, accordion, glockenspiel, and melodica") on their new album — a bit of that brought to the stage would add a needed bit of seasoning to a hardy but stolid broth. But for a half-dozen titles over forty minutes, I found it an enjoyable soundtrack to the evening's start, even if it was, perhaps, not so groundbreaking. I did enjoy it, though, and respect the way the band has chosen to lull rather than hammer the audience.

Listen to a track from this set here.

As out-of-towners, Edmonton-via-Montreal trio The City Streets didn't even have the small retinue of friends that Epigram had brought to the place, and it was feeling rather like a ghost town. There was plenty of room to take things in from the dance floor, but I must confess that after a couple songs I went and found a seat to take things in from a bit further back. Not that there was anything especially wrong with what the group was doing, but it just didn't do much for me. Playing a sort of literate, stripped-down guitar rock, I think they were reaching for a sort of late-era Replacements sound. They scratched at that in a couple songs like "Irish Rose", whose lyrics ("baby since you've gone/ I've been wearing all your clothes") matched the roughed-up musical swagger. But too often they sounded to me something like The Goo Goo Dolls immediately before they lost their edge, or maybe Soul Asylum immediately after they lost theirs. Others might be more amenable to this — I could theoretically imagine it striking someone else as a good example of melodic, sensitive (but not spineless) rock.¹

By 11:30, there were more people on hand, but there was still a low-key sort of vibe for a Hoa Hoa's gig. It's unusual to see the band outside their own sorts of events, where the show is part of a party for an audience of friends. Here, in the empty-ish bar, the vibe was more like an away game — the sort of indifferent environment where the savvy side might play for a draw and save their strength for another day. Not that the band was lazy or indifferent, but this set had a different feel.

Still, leading off with "Postcards", that familiar rush came over me, and the band hit the sweet spot early on with a slashing version of "Vinyl Richie" with some electric jug-like vocals thrown into the stew, sounding like the band had maybe been listening to some 13th Floor Elevators. The set also included "The List" (from previous album Sonic Bloom) with its New Order-ish guitar line as well as a repeat of the "new-ish" song recently added to their setlist. "Blue Acid Gumball", in its customary set-closing slot, didn't reach the highest heights that I've seen it taken to, but still closed things out in fine rave-up style.

Conceptually, a bit of a hodge-podge on the night, but that's what you're going to get at a festival like this. As always, huge praise is due to Keith Hamilton and everyone else that makes this PWYC festival happen — it's a great idea, and it's especially cool to have shows like this in relatively bigger venues like The 'Shoe. One slight problem — something that I witnessed here and that I heard about through anecdotal reports of other Pitter Patter gigs — is that given how much work went into putting these shows on, it's disheartening to see lacklustre crowds. The logistics are well in hand — the next step is getting people out to these shows.

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¹ Their third album, the just-released The Jazz Age, is available for free download via their myspace.

Gig: The Diableros / Sports: The Band / Terror Lake / Archipelagos

The Diableros / Sports: The Band / Terror Lake / Archipelagos

Pitter Patter Festival. Sneaky Dee's. Saturday, May 30, 2009.

In an unusual confluence of gig-goin' events, this turned out to be my third Saturday night in a row at Sneaky Dee's.¹ Paid-what-I-could for entry to a Pitter Patter powered night and was on hand with the early crowd to see the lead-off band, Montreal's Archipelagos, the quickest summary of whom might be "Sounds Like: The National". By which I kinda mean rather a lot. Which isn't the worst thing in the world, by any means. Vocalist Jesse LeGallais even had a version that grip-your-own-forearm-and-twitch thing that Matt Berninger is remembered for.² This is not to sound snarky or dismissive, as the band were quite entertaining in their own right. With dramatic, carefully sculpted guitar parts and a smart sense for dynamics, the band's songs built up into some crafty little maelstroms. Suffering from the aftermath of van-related traumas which forced the band to stay overnight in Belleville while en route down the 401, the band played pretty intensely for a sparse crowd. Certainly worth keeping an eye on.

Terror Lake were a complete unknown to me, but left a very positive impression. A three piece, with two guitarists playing interlocking parts, drums and no bass. With that line-up and Wendy Fowler's vibrato, the words "Sleater" and "Kinney" might come to mind. But the band's approach is more akin to surf music, which gives them their own sound. Stripped-down and lean sounding, the band got great mileage from a rigourously lean aesthetic. Their half-hour set punched my buttons and are now on my list for another taste.

Listen to a song from this set here.

A bit of a change of pace after that as Sports: The Band took over. Smart pop, with boy-girl vox and a bit of a new wave sensibility. But also, as the set moved along and the band found their groove, increasingly dance friendly. Keyboardist/vocalist Robin Hatch, celebrating a birthday, came equipped with an elegant hat — we're talking hat-box-worthy — and took lead vox for some of the band's better material, including a peppy number presumably titled "Postcard". Sports had an eager crowd on hand which responded warmly for the whole forty-five minute set. Reasonably good stuff — a few of the songs didn't totally gel, but the band seems to be working towards a more interesting cohesion.³

The capper was the real treat of the night. The Diableros always put on a good show, and it'd been a decent stretch since seeing them last. With the prospect of new material in the offing, this was something I'd been looking forward to. The band lead off with a series of tracks from their soon-to-be-recorded EP that are a logical extension of their signature sound — like all of us, growing less fuzzed-out and sound-saturated with age.⁴ Of the new stuff, "Heavy Hands" had the best showing out-of-the gate.

The current lineup (containing only Pete Carmichael and guitarist Ian Jackson as long-time holdovers) seemed at ease with both new material and old. That Pitter Patter maven Keith Hamilton found time from what was presumably a busy weekend to play bass was pretty impressive. As the hour grew later, the crowd thinned out a bit, which left more room for the random intrusion of a gang of possibly drunk people intent on wrapping each other in police tape.⁵ It was a highly satisfying set, and I'm looking forward to hearing the new songs in their finished forms.

Listen to a track from this set here.

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¹ Although it might have a bit to do with the fact that, at the end of my kid-with-a-new-toy binge with my recording gear, I've found that my mics seem to work particularly well at Sneaks. Undoubtedly partially because I picked 'em to work well in small, loud spaces, but some credit is also due to Steve the Sound Guy, one of the city's best, who does a pretty amazing job, especially when you consider the sheer number of set-ups and changeovers on stage on a night like this.

² But the panicked, thousand-yard stare, his eyes bugging out and looking like they were about to roll backwards into his skull as he fell into a seizure is his own thing.

³ Although I think I'm going to quietly align myself here with the side that's advocating against vocoder use.

⁴ In fact, one of the new songs, rolling out at a sedate pace for The Diableros, talks about that fear of getting old, but holds out for the hope that "we'll still have rock and roll".

⁵ One of whom shouted, between songs, to one of her friends, "What's the name of this band? Chart Attack?" Guessing from the banner on the stage, she proceeded to chant, "Chart Attack! Chart Attack!"

Gig: The Miles / Pants & Tie

The Miles / Pants & Tie

Pitter Patter Festival. The Boat. Friday, May 29, 2009.

Heading out of the Apostle of Hustle show, J. averred that he was sufficiently rocked for the night and was heading home, but I felt like I had the energy for a little more. Headed west from the Music Gallery towards Kensington, mentally flipping a coin, as I had nothing strongly in mind. Figuring that the gig at The Boat looked as good as anything, headed in there, where — marginally interesting fact alert — I had not previously been.

The venue more-or-less matched the impressions I'd heard from various sources — a long room, stage at one end with a dancefloor, bar at the other with restaurant-y tables. And decorated like, yes, the inside of a boat — possibly during the Carter administration. I have a certain soft spot for venues in their fading Blanche DuBois stage, so the portholes and red lights seemed okay by me. The crowd was a little worrying though — a whole lot younger and more fashionably dressed than me, setting off that tingling sense that I'd stepped into some other gang's clubhouse.

That sense of social displacement was probably as good an entry point as any to Pants and Tie, who were setting up as I arrived and soon launched into their set. A three piece, combining stripped down beats, Chic-esque guit and bass and a singular vocalist, whose twitchy yelps brought to mind nothing more than Bobby McCollough's sax in "Super Bad".¹ Très no-wave. The band was obviously exploring the tension between those edge-of-breakdown vocals and the very controlled rhythms. Which is a worthy idea, and there's something there. At some points though, it did miss its mark, leaving the band sounding merely like an over-caffeinated INXS — possibly because a few of the programmed beats were a little too stiff and airless. Still, interesting to see live.

Out of nowhere, the dancefloor was packed with dancing young people. One looked over at me and, pulling out her American Apparel-branded shiv, hissed at me, "are we gonna be cool, Mr. Weatherbee?" and flicked it casually through the air. Nodding, I took a step back.² The crowd, apparently, were suddenly in attendance to see The Miles, an energetic young three-piece. Rocking with guit, drums and keyb/synth bass, the vox were shared around, mostly between Steven Foster and Jesse Lee Wadon. Hitting the stage with a surf beat and ooky-spooky Munsters-theme organ, the band projected like a boys' varsity B-52's, throwing down an infectiously dancey new wave party. The band and audience were clearly having a blast, and it was hard not to get sucked in and quickly convinced of their merits. Projections are notoriously tricky things, but if there were a Toronto Band Stock Exchange, you might be wise to invest in The Miles now. Not that the band looked hung up on anything more than entertaining their friends — inviting the crowd up to dance on the stage near set's end. Worth seeing again — bring your dancing shoes.

There was one more band on the bill, but I was feeling wiped, so I decided to leave on that high note.

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¹ Or: imagine Paul Giamatti having a very bad day which ended up with him fronting a stripped down disco band, sputtering about his sexual dysfunctions.

² Some elements of this paragraph are not, sensu strictissimo, entirely factual.