2009 In Review: Best Concerts (Part I)

So, in 2009, I went to one hundred and thirty shows, give or take, as long you consider anything from a three-song acoustic in-store set to an all-day mini-festival to be one "show". And looking over my list of gigs for the year, I can say there's not much that I regret going to. Which means, of course, that everything falls on that big ol' sliding scale of liked it some/liked it some more. To come up with the best of the bunch, I went with that unscientific method of scrolling down the list and stopping at those things that elicited that little internal smile and nod. There were a lot of other shows that were really good, but these — presented mostly in chronological order — stood out. To, y'know, save effort, I'll shamelessly quote myself as much as possible here, but links are provided should you want my whole view from at the time.

CMW Saturday Night

Lee's Palace / The Horseshoe / The Silver Dollar. Saturday, March 14, 2009.

A busy night of venue hopping not only served to re-establish the bona fides of some old faves (Jon-Rae Fletcher, Young Galaxy), but ending the night hanging out at the Silver Dollar proved to be prophetic — not only would I end up spending a lot more time than previous here in 2009, but I'd be introduced to a couple of my fave live acts of the year, in The Disraelis and The Hoa Hoa's. Of the latter, I noted "they managed to press the exact buttons to excite me," though I don't think I realized then how devoted I was going to become. Like anything you fall for, I guess, it's not always the one you were expecting.

I don't have any audio from that show, but I ended up posting a lot of live Hoa Hoa's.

Julie Doiron

($100 / Rick White) The Horseshoe. 2009-03-26 (Thursday)

AND:

Julie Doiron (Herman Dune / Shotgun Jimmie)

Lee's Palace 2009-10-27 (Tuesday)

Through whatever combination of circumstances, I had never been to a Julie Doiron show, so this was quite an immersion. The Horseshoe gig floored me. Going to shows involves an unspoken kind of social contract, where we all agree to shut and listen to various degrees. But it's rare and precious when a whole room of people seem to really get that, and are held, rapt, by an artist's fragile sounds: "Leading off with an a capella number, there was almost unimaginable silence in the room — the only other sound to be heard was the dishwasher at the bar. This sort of became a mutually reinforcing spell, as the crowd realized that Julie (happy throughout, though visibly fighting a cold) was quite into the moment and kept working to prolong it, coming up on the spot with the idea for more songs to play solo before bringing the band out." The rocking part of the show was nearly as good, close to falling apart in the most delightful way.

And then, her October show was almost its equal, even in a bigger room with a totally different band and heaps of expectation on my part. Incredible work.

No audio from the February show, but I do have a couple tracks posted from October.

Ray Price

(opening for Willie Nelson)

Massey Hall. 2009-04-08 (Wednesday)

Setting aside the comic weirdness of the whole Billy Bob Thornton imbroglio — I missed the real escapades by a night — the most memorable part of this show was a wonderful set by an 83 year old titan: "cast your mind over that for a moment — I saw a guy on stage who was a roommate with Hank Williams, and who inherited his band after Hank's death. It staggers the mind to think that history and legend are still that close to us!" No longer the swingin' honky-tonker he was in the '50's, Price instead used his rich voice to unleash a torrent of hits in a more countrypolitan vein, and it was time-stoppingly sublime. That Willie Nelson, no spring chicken or slouch himself, was the icing on the cake only underlines how wonderful this was.

King Sunny Adé

(appearing with Femi Kuti)

Harbourfront Centre. 2009-07-04 (Saturday)

There was music and dancing and I was in just such a mood and the sun was coming down just so. But —— sometimes words can't do it, and sometimes recordings can't capture it. But whatever it was, I was lifted up and rocked by the jùjú master's set: "In retrospect, I'm mildly at a loss to explain as to why I was so into this — but that's one of the reasons to go to concerts, isn't it? For those rare moments where your self can get past itself and just feel the music in an unmediated way. Which, despite the intoxicating tools that can help it along, usually just has to come over you of itself. There was simply a presence to the show that transformed itself into one of those ineffably sublime moments."

My recording from the show is nice enough, but this was one of those times it didn't capture the whole vibrant spark of the show.

Kemer Yousuf

Afrofest, Queen's Park. 2009-07-12 (Sunday)

One of the most magnetic showmen I saw all year — how many local indie artists are beloved enough that people would scramble over one another to stick twenty dollar bills to their sweaty foreheads? "...danceable stuff, and fronted by a man who had a Mr. Please Please Please level of dedication to entertaining — moving around the stage, dropping to his knees, pumping up the crowd." The keystone of a rather fine day at Queen's Park, including Mauritian mystic Menwar and the conscious party grooves of superstar Oumou Sangaré.

Get in on Kemer Yousuf's rockin' party here.

catl / The Disraelis

Mitzi's Sister. 2009-07-31 (Friday)

On a night that I could have just gone home after seeing a movie, I figured I might as well check out a gig as well, and ended up in Parkdale in a decidedly-less-than-packed joint. And sometimes you're just in the right mood, and the bands nail it and it's all fantastic. Local blues-scuzzers catl worked their always-reliable drunk dancin' delirium, but on this night it was their guests' set that turned me into a disciple: "...enjoyable despite — because of? — the small group of mostly friends out to see them. At any rate, the space felt ideal for the band's sound, which connotes a slightly regretful dreamy lassitude."

I also got a really nice capture of the sound that night that you can check out here.

Part II can be found here.

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

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

Massey Hall. Wednesday, April 8, 2009.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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