Showing posts with label the miles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the miles. Show all posts

Monday, February 1, 2010

Gig: Daps All-Ages Concert Vol. IV

Daps All-Ages Concert Vol. IV (feat. Ruzan Orkestar, Sean Nicholas Savage, The Miles, Santa Guerrilla, Casey Mecija)

Kapisanan Philippine Centre for Arts & Culture. Saturday, January 16, 2010.

All praise to the Daps Duo! Dan and April of Hooded Fang have a nice sideline in inclusive, fun matinées presenting bands across a range of genres. With the shuttering of Rolly's Garage, their spiritual home base, the latest show landed in Kensington Market, in the friendly basement confines of the Kapisanan Philippine Centre. A long, narrow room, low-ceilinged, with the bands set up on a low stage at the far end. Back by the entrance, there was a merch table and hot chocolate for sale, and the long walls were covered with drawing paper, encouraging all comers to add their marks. A nice crowd on hand, mostly younger, but pretty much all Good Attendees, dancing when called for and quiet and attentive when that was required.1

"Hi Everyone... we're Ruzan Orkestar, and this is our last show ever," announced Patricia Auchterlonie at the start of their set — is a bit of a bummer, as far as introductions to bands go. Don't get too attached and all that. On the other hand, the understated melancholy of that greeting nicely set up their first piece of music, a Dirty Three-esque violin-led dirge rather appropriately entitled "Elegy". The band's stock-in-trade was Godspeed-like instrumentals, and perhaps the stuff here wasn't breaking new ground in that regard, but the band showed talent in their compositions. "Stay Golden, Pony Boy", with Egin Kongoli's shouty vocals, was a bit of a departure — feeling a bit like Slint atavistically lurching back into Squirrel Bait — and in this context a little bit jarring compared to the music around it. Auchterlonie's wordless vocalisations on "Emmett's Blood" were a better fit.

Featuring a fill-in drummer stepping in for his departed predecessor, it was clear that this band was a learning experience for all involved right up to the end, and though it seems this project has run its course, it looks like we'll be seeing more from some of the members again in new capacities. The band were selling a two CD-R set of their complete recordings after the show and I picked one up, so I guess they'll now be in the "gone, but not forgotten" drawer.

The band has a link to a download of their set at their myspace, or you could listen to a track from my recording here.

Playing an old acoustic twelve-string, Montréal's Sean Nicholas Savage vamped a bit and sang a few taroola-lays while waiting to see if the sound guy could throw some reverb on his voice.2 Proceeding without, he started to sing in an utterly non-rock'n'roll manner, all high and quavery — sort of like a twee, folksy Roy Orbison. Playing ten songs over a half hour, not all of the selections were winners, but it was pleasingly refreshing stuff from a distinctive voice. In fact, I'd say this was the sort of set that grew on me more after the fact, so I wouldn't object to further exposure.

Listen to a track from this set here.

When I saw The Miles last spring, I was impressed: "like a boys' varsity B-52's" was my summary. A second time round, they remain impressive — and, if anything, tighter and more confident than previously. Looking like private school boys toying with the notion of running away to join the rock'n'roll circus, perhaps some of my admiration stems from the fact that a younger me would have been totally thrilled by/jealous of them, what with their looking bookish but not nerdy, and able to, like, impress girls with their rock moves. Their new wave surf party tunes (mostly about being interested in/tired of girls) aren't yet winning any nobel prizes for originality, but they're delivered with such groovy gusto that that just doesn't matter. Delivering some of the highlights from their album3, including "Stingray", "Trash" and the incredibly hummable/danceable "Can I Speak to Shawna?", these lads continue to leave a tasty impression.

Linking up the location and the music, Santa Guerrilla — the resident music collective at the Kapisanan Centre, with the members rotating to learn all of the instruments — brought the Pinoy vibe. There was a familiar face on the stage in the form of Alexander The, who has previously shown his pop skills in Times Neue Roman. Here he added Korg-y keyb sweetening to the to percussion-based ensemble. Rocking the kulintang (racked gong chime) and agung (large gong), the sounds blended well into a hip-hop sensibility, with the crew adding rhymes to the traditional sounds. Totally unexpected and highly delightful — this is music that deserves to be heard beyond the walls of the Philippine Cultural Centre.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Casey Mecija has apparently been working on her one-woman-band skills, bringing along a small kickdrum/cymbal combo to accompany herself. And for additional safety in numbers, she was joined by her sister Jenny and Anissa Hart on strings — a configuration that was pleasingly intimate without sounding sparse. We had a chance to hear stories about incentives at childhood recitals (a trip to Wendy's, or Arby's if things went really well) along with some lovely new tunes that will possibly be surfacing on the next Ohbijou album.

Leading off with a lovely cover of Nathan Lawr's "Barking At Your Door", the set included a couple old favourites — "Black Ice", plus a version of "The Otherside" where, in the overlapping vocal section at the end, Casey was so caught up in listening to Jenny's part they ended up harmonizing the same lines with each other instead of alternating them. "I honestly thought your voice was my voice," Casey laughed at the end. "No Arby's!" someone in the audience shouted back. The crowd, mostly sitting on the floor, was raptly quiet, right up to the final selection, a very pretty love song ("true one / we've only begun") that Casey played solo. A fine capper to the afternoon.

Listen to a track from this set here.

And then, out at about quarter after six, time a-plenty yet to enjoy the evening. A very well-organized day and smartly put together. You'd be well advised to keep your eyes open for the date for Volume V.4


1 It's nice to have a reminder that it's not young people, per se, that are ill-mannered distractions at shows. It's the booze that's the problem, really, when folks hit that age of majority and suddenly have licence to go out and drink and be loud and inconsiderate, because — and I can certainly identify with this some — it's generally assumed that the booze makes other people loud and inconsiderate, but it makes me fun and as charming as anything.

Thinking more about this, I also wonder if attentive, sober underagers become loud, talky bar patrons just because, on the whole, shows in bars are way less interesting than shows like this. If I had been lucky enough to have grown up on a diet of extraordinarily cool all-ages shows before I was old enough to drink, I would have found the transition to dark and oft-dire clubs to be as depressing as hell.

2 Savage's music gave the impression that he was utterly mis-named. Perhaps "Cardigan" or "Bramble" would serve as truth-in-advertising surnames, though I guess that might be a bit too obvious.

3 Their album's title, Blood on My Blazer, contributes to their Max Fischer-esque image, and comes in a nifty hand-made package with the CD backed against a silkscreened old 7" single — mine is a Philles Records pressing of "Unchained Melody" by The Righteous Brothers. Quite nifty.

4 Word on the street is you should keep March 27 April 10 open in that regard.

Sunday, May 31, 2009

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.


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.