Currente calamo: Wavelength THIRTEEN Festival (Part I)

THIRTEEN: The Wavelength 13th 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.

So — what is Wavelength at thirteen? Easy cracks about the venerable concert series entering its awkward teenage years notwithstanding, the main theme that was evident from this year's anniversary celebrations was of an organization with a mature self-confidence. In its post-weekly-series incarnation, the collective has definitely found certainty in a new organizational principle that is based around the tentpoles of the February festival and summer ALL CAPS excursion. With the assurance that they know the ins and outs of running a multi-night festival, there was a general feeling that everything was running smoothly, meaning that instead of behind-the-scenes drama and worry, the element of chance and risk was left to the artists on stage.

Another thing that really sets the festival apart is its ability to not only showcase bands that are still new and unheralded, but reach back to some of the previously-unheralded success stories that played WL in their formative years and are willing to keep coming back. That meant that veteran bands (like, say, Do Make Say Think, who recently played The Opera House) could serve as a drawing card to get a new audience in front of the emerging groups — and both could radiate a palpable sense of joy at being part of the WL experience. Given how this was a success in terms of programming, execution, affordability and accessibility, this WL festival was also a challenge for other music presenters in the city to raise their game.

Night 1 — Thursday, February 14, 2013

The Shop under Parts + Labour — feat. Slow-Pitch / This Mess / Fresh Snow / Ell V Gore / Lullabye Arkestra

The Venue: Parkdale's Parts + Labour is about the furthest afield that many regular show-goers can be cajoled to get out to — and some avoid it for reasons beyond its location at the western fringes of coolness. The low-ceilinged basement space can set off feelings of claustrophobia, especially when it gets packed. It also has a rep for less-than-high-fidelity sound, and indeed, it's at its best when playing host to rough-and-ready DIY'ers with a naturally scrappy sort of sound. Last fall's renovations to the room (flipping the bar to the opposite long wall) have actually done a lot to improve the flow of the space, but you'll never mistake being there with the feeling of, say, wandering through an open meadow. But sometimes you want to experience the opposite of wandering through an open meadow.

The show: Festival regulars (or astute observers) will notice that the WL formula isn't quite that "there is no formula", as once again a punk-ish night at the basement bomb-shelter of Parts + Labour began with a stylistic curveball. Slow-Pitch is a new nom de guerre for Cheldon Paterson, known for his work with production unit iNSiDEaMiND. He is also known as Professor Fingers, but the separate musical identity is a clear signal to expect something different on stage than the hammed-up fun ProF brought to the Wavelength festival three years ago. Here, the vibe was noir-ish, almost austere, and the sounds were all live and improvised. That meant for a set of atmospheric, ambient-leaning tracks, with as many surface crackles as beats being looped as Paterson flipped records on and off the turntable.

The sounds were generally compelling, but as with many kinds of music being built up in front of your eyes, there were a few static stretches where I was ready for the next layer to propel things forward. That itch was scratched with a couple turns near set's end from local improv sax master Colin Fisher (of Not the Wind, Not the Flag, Elfin Choirs, etc, etc, etc) who used the beatscapes' structures to launch a couple inquiries of his own. As with any improvisation, there were a couple spots where the two sonic modes didn't quite jibe, but there were more parts (a slowly roiling fog here, a skittering scuff to match the needle's scratch there) that intrigued. And, as something that many in the crowd weren't expecting, a nice way to lead off the festival.

Listen to a song from this set here.

SST-inspired hardcore-ish trio This Mess were a bit closer to what one might hear coming down the stairs to P+L on any given night. Celebrating the release of their first full-length States (available on tape or for download), the trio jumped right into their quickly-growing catalogue of songs — usually coming in hundred-second bursts. That works best when the band can careen right from one song to the next, but here the band had some trouble attaining escape velocity — guitarist Matt N-L regretting his decision to change his strings right before the show as he stopped to tune a couple times. Once Matt and John swapped off on guitar and bass, things began to settle in and they charged through the remainder of the set with their usual momentum. By the end, drummer Adham Ghanem was leaning forward over his kit like a sprinter approaching the finish line — before he hopped off at the conclusion to switch back into his role as WL's production manager, keeping things running admirably on time in a whole other capacity.

Listen to a song from this set here.

The pre-festival word from Fresh Snow hinted that a broken-handed bass player would necessitate some sonic shuffling. The promised "synth apocalypse" manifested in the form of a V of keyboards at the front of the stage area, but the players would be visually upstaged by an old-fashioned tube TV¹ at their apex which was playing an analogue-fuzzy live visualization, rippling away in time to the music. The stage was otherwise pitch black as the band set into a slow-building piece based around a sampled autohypnosis recording for use in lucid dreaming. The fantastic track, which dominated the set, certainly contained some oscillating, mind-altering properties.

There would only be one other offering in the shortened set before the lights went back up and the band offered the TV to anyone in the crowd willing to drag it home with them. This was a more minimalist presentation than their previous forays into band-obscuring projections and the like, but it was intriguing to see them go with something different. Musically, this was potent stuff, so I imagine that the band at full-strength would be even more of a force.

Listen to a track from this set here.

In contrast to Fresh Snow's blackout, Ell V Gore frontman Elliott Jones was soon fiddling with the lights above the stage to speed up their cycling colours to near-seizure-inducing velocity, which would make for an appropriate pairing with the band's no-wave speedswamp style. The band's rotating drum chair is now occupied by Jay Anderson, which hasn't lead to any major changes in the rhythmic approach, but does give a firm platform for Jones' aggressive knife-slash guitar work. There's a fierce underpinning to the music, whether Jones is leaning back, legs wide to play, or craning forward to engulf the microphone in his mouth. The strobelit flash in the neocortex lingers afterward more in the subconsciousness than in memory — akin to the experience of waking up on an unfamiliar mattress in an alley, sore in unusual places, and with a creeping suspicion you were up to something wrong.

Listen to a song from this set here.

Lullabye Arkestra, who closed out the first night, have famously played nearly all of Wavelength's anniversaries: The actually met at the first festival in 2001, and their absence from last year's fest was necessitated by their daughter's birth.² Even if drummer Justin Small would characterize Valentine's Day being to real lovers what St. Patrick's Day is to real drinkers (completely missing the point to those that practice it every day), the timing of this post-parental-leave return to action was still a reminder that Small's romance with bassist/vocalist Kat Taylor-Small is at the heart of their churning rock'n'roll. Showing few signs of rust, the pair knocked out a fairly ferocious set.

Starting with "We Fuck the Night", they'd be joined by Nick Taylor on guitar for a few songs, giving shades of the LAST time the band played the festival. Just as they were storming into "Ass Worship", the power cut out on the PA, but with pounding drums and shout-along spirit, they seemed hardly derailed. Maybe because the very idea of the band is so compelling — oh, and the knock-you-down rock-storm of their live shows — I've come to rather appreciate Lullabye Arkestra, and it was a good feeling to have them back among us.

Listen to a song from this set here.

Night 2 — Friday, February 15, 2013

The Great Hall: BLK BOX — feat. THIGHS / Blonde Elvis / Blue Hawaii / Cadence Weapon / Doldrums

The Venue: Formerly known as the Theatre Centre (which has decamped down the street), the lower level of The Great Hall has been re-branded with an unfortunately abbrviatd name. To the good, however, there has been a bit of work put into the space. Somewhat disorientingly, the layout of the floor (the room is a sort of analogue of the Great Hall above, with a circular balcony running all the way around the room above the main level) had been flipped one-hundred-eighty degrees, with the seating risers removed and a new stage in their place.

That does serve to open up the room and improves the flow with the main stairway (that was formerly behind the stage) now the main access between levels. Sadly, the benefits of that are currently somewhat minimized as the entry doors that go right out to street level on Dovercourt aren't being used — to stay in the neighbours' good graces, I hear — meaning it's a bit of a up-one-stairway-and-down-another winding trip to attain ingress.

But most importantly, there is a brand-new powerful PA in place. The sound crew were just getting used to it at this show (there were a few spots in the room with mushy sound, indicating they haven't figured out all the nuances yet) but there were moments that hinted this could be a worthy space to hear a gig in. My understanding is that the room will be marketed mostly to the DJ/electronic music crowd, so we'll see how many chances there will be to hear bands there.

Most noteworthy at this show were the visuals: a cut-out Toronto skyline animated by pulsating projections supplied by Live Action Fezz. Definitely a visual representation of the living, vibrating city animated in part by Wavelength.

The Show: At the start of the night, I wasn't sure if that new PA was going to get put to the test by THIGHS. When I've seen 'em before, they were noteworthy for their wall of amplifiers which acted as their own sound system. That wall was indeed in place in front of the stage as they got the night started — its an arrangement that's pretty effective at putting the band right up against the crowd. That's especially true for vocalist Mark Colborne (also of Pants + Tie) who will generally range as far as his mic cord will allow.

The floor was loosely filled this early in the night, and looking down from the balcony above, there was no clear demarcation between the band and the crowd — as if it just happened that these four guys had wandered up first and grabbed the instruments. Such casualness would be belied by their locked-in focus, and if the spectacle of what the band does is reduced a bit after seeing them a couple times, it's made up for the by the force of the blow the music lands with.³

Listen to a song from this set here.

Things moved up to the stage proper after that for Blonde Elvis. Fronted by Jesse James Laderoute (in a dapper turtleneck/gold chain/white pants combo), the band serves as the let's-have-a-good-time id to the consider-the-consequences superego of his main project Young Mother. Having only played a handful of gigs, this is a band that's still finding its sound — there was more tasty guitar work than when I'd seen them previously, for example — but the underlying message is generally along the lines of "it's Saturday night, let's have a drink!" Even if they come off as a group that you might find passing around a flask in a stylish back alley, that doesn't conceal that they're building up a repertoire of well-crafted pop songs.

Listen to a song from this set here.

After that, it felt all at once like there was suddenly a whole different crowd in place in the suddenly-packed room. In terms of anticipation and the level of excitement in the room, Blue Hawaii were the night's de facto headliners. Raphalle Preston-Standell is known for her work in Braids, and surely some of that band's buzz was rubbing off on this project. Here, providing vox and manipulations, she's in a duo with Alexander Cowan, who was manning a big table of electronics. The songs were beat-driven but not particularly pop-structured, and sounding positively great in the room — this was definitely a proof-of-concept for what that new PA system could do.

That said, I must confess it wasn't doing much for me, and by the end I was mostly reduced to an indifferent shrug. The impression that the live set gave was that Preston-Standell was drawing from the least-interesting elements in Braids' music, delivering repurposed Björk-isms over generic beatscapes. But I shouldn't quite let that be my last word on this act, and would offer two caveats: first, this was proclaimed by almost everyone I talked with to be one of the highlights of the festival; and second, I have heard that the pair's recorded output relies more on textured nuances that might win me over a little more. We shall see.

Listen to a song from this set here.

Just as Rollie Pemberton (who records as Cadence Weapon) is now oft-mentioned as being from "Montréal-via-Calgary", his music has always thrived on keeping his feet in different camps — a rapper who travels in indie rock circles. It means that he has a wider range of pop culture references to draw on (I have no data, but I can't imagine a lot of other rappers can be so blasé as they slip in a Richard Hell reference) and a wider range of scene politics that he can riff on. But most importantly, in a live setting he can bring it as an MC, relying on stage presence and verbal dexterity to keep a show moving without getting caught up in the indulgences that weigh down a lot of hip-hop music. The set drew from last year's Hope in Dirt City but wasn't limited to profiling it, reaching back for a few older cuts ("Real Estate" was sounding pretty good) as well as debuting a new one. Pemberton took care to talk about his links to Wavelength, sending a shout-out to Spiral Beach while recalling playing to eight (or so) people at his first time through T.O. — this is how WL brings things full circle.

Listen to a song from this set here.

The real legacy of Spiral Beach is only now starting to be felt, with all of its members currently involved in noteworthy bands. I've been seeing Airick Woodhead developing as Doldrums for almost three years now, so it's been interesting to see the project continually metastasizing and mutating to the point of congealing into the brand-new Lesser Evil album. Playing with a rotating cast of musicians (though his brother Daniel "Moon King" Woodhead and Steven Foster — both on stage here — are often in the mix), in a live setting his music has always sailed on the choppy waters of indeterminacy, the performance buoyed by the fact that things could get weird or go wrong at any moment.

So, a few technical hiccups here (with one song being stopped and patchcords being puzzled over before it got a do-over) seemed downright professional from an artist who, as a relatively-unknown bottom-of-the-bill performer at the WL festival two years ago pressed play on a Madonna track and jumped off the stage to go grab a mid-set beer. In any case, given how Woodhead's amorphous pop sensibility had been slowly sublimated into actual songs — and damn good ones — it was amusing to see that ol' randomness intruding back on them once again.

Listen to a song from this set here.

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¹ Do you have ANY IDEA how old it makes me feel to have to distinguish what I always thought of as a "regular TV" in that way? Sigh.

² Sometime while Burning Love were playing, by Justin Small's calculation.

³ THIGHS will be celebrating the vinyl reissue of last year's cassette (alongside DAS RAD, also celebrating a new album) at The White House on Friday, March 1, 2013.

Gig: The Beets

The Beets (Brilliant Colors / Planet Creature)

The Shop under Parts + Labour. Tuesday, June 14, 2011.

In the nearly six months since I'd headed downstairs at Parts & Labour, the room had a few tweaks that moved it towards its "finished" state. Most notable was the railing running down the middle of the room running parallel to the bar, giving a bit more drink-setting space. Or, in this case, a spot to put the pizzas that promoter Mark Pesci¹ was carrying down to feed the bands. Some dangling white LED xmas lights were illuminating the stage area, which was quiet as the early patrons filtered in. I was reminded, once again, that shows at The Shop just don't start early, even on a Tuesday night.²

But in the meantime, there were some familiar faces to say hello to, including local openers Planet Creature. It was especially interesting to see them at this show, to try and put some thought toward a conundrum that frequently nudges its way into my consciousness: how does one rank bands that are local and that we're familiar with and have a continuing context for against ones from afar, where our expectations are conditioned by recordings and buzz and other third-hand references? Moreso, how does one evaluate musicians who are peers and acquaintances against strangers? I'm never sure which "critical discount" is bigger: the desire to, basically, be nice to people you know you're going to see around town and at other shows, or showing deference to the hype around bands that come from a cool city, or are on a cool label, etc. I would never pretend to be a particularly objective observer, of course, but by night's end this was crossing my mind as I was struggling to see if it was merely my biases that made it seem like the openers were kicking everyone else's ass.

Planet Creature were just back from recording the tracks that would become the fabulous You're On Planet Creature album, and they were at that point where they had the material down cold. There could have been no monitors, the members could have been blindfolded — one just got the impression they'd have knocked it out of the park regardless, seeing how they were playing the material with such effortless confidence, including songs like "Valentine", which hadn't been in their setlists as much.

And with that confidence, the band was positively charging through the material — I'm pretty sure this was the fastest I've ever seen 'em play. But even at that, there was nary a missed note, even on older stuff, like a rampaging drive through "Das Pirates". The only downside is that there wasn't a great vocal presence in the room, and the harmonies weren't felt as strongly as they should have been. But all told, this set showed Planet Creature's garage-pop tunes at maximum punkrock velocity, and it looked very good on 'em. After this — and this is a band that I've seen no few times — this was the standard to measure their set against.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Meanwhile, the main reason I had come to this show was to hear support act Brilliant Colors, who were exactly the sort of band that I might overvalue because of their cool exoticness. Like a lot of bands on the Slumberland label, you could probably pass off one of their songs as something from a C-86-era compilation. I liked their Introducing album — the sound of it, and the very idea of it — pretty well, though there weren't really any specific songs that stuck with me.

The San Francisco trio brought a very basic set up on the road with them, just bass and drums behind Jess Scott's pedal-free guitar, which she played raised high up on an unusually short strap.

The set led off with the quick burst of "Over There" — like their debut album, the songs were mostly around the two-minute mark. The set would mostly draw from that album, although they did play a couple tracks (including "Back To The Tricks") which would emerge on sophomore album Again and Again. And given that they are also fond of releasing a lot of non-album singles, there were a couple other things sprinkled in there, like the tasty "Walk into the World".

Scott was not much for interaction at first, and when she spoke some later on, it was fairly hard to get much of what was being said, the words coming out in the same reverb-y muddle that the songs were cloaked in. Even if there weren't a lot of lyrics that you could pick out, the band's rangy minimalism paid off — it sounded kinda great in the room, and after a few songs it was really working for me, even if, like the recorded versions, specific hooks mattered less than the tasty sonic lump of the whole thing.

During "Painting Truths", just eight songs and hardly twenty minutes into their set, it all lurched to a sudden and unceremonious end, thanks to a broken guitar string. "This'll take forever, so... thanks," commented Scott as the band called a halt.

"Live-ness" can definitely paper over the problem of semi-indistinct songs kinda blending together, and here, the set came and went in a most pleasant flash. If the greatest pleasures the band brings are merely transient, that's not too bad a starting place. As it stands, they have shown a bit more ability to sonically separate the songs from each other on their second album — and as for how that comes off live I will have more to say on commenting about the next time I saw 'em.

Listen to a track from this set here.

I didn't really know anything about The Beets coming into this show. My first impression was that they must have a rather meticulous sensibility, given the amount of time that they were taking not only to set up their instruments, but to dress the stage as well. There was an illuminated globe under a large backlit American flag and a couple banners, the more bold of those stating, in block letters, "THE BEETS I'D RATHER WATCH PAINT DRY".

Attending to all the bricabrac would be a non-playing member of the band's retinue, sitting on the floor, flicking lights on and off while the trio of musicians cranked out the songs' quick jabs. The music turned out to be short, scrappy bursts, played as a nonstop thrust with one song careening into the next, the rumble all backed by a consistent Mo Tucker-ish beat to support the co-bellowed vox. With that driving rhythm and caustic sensibility, locals The Soupcans came to mind a bit, though The Beets sounded like they were approaching the songs with more of a distorted pop sensibility, and with about as much sardonicism as The Soupcans bring menace.

There was, as one might say, a singularity of purpose to their musical attack (though a cynic might simply call out the band for playing repeated variations of the same song). And perhaps the band was no deeper than the concerns in their titles ("I Don't Know", "Watching T.V.") but it got the crowd worked up and wiggling, so they were doing something right, even if they seemed to relish heading right for that fine line between clever and stupid.

With nine songs in about eighteen minutes, nothing overstayed its welcome. Only closer "Flight 14" stretched out to any appreciable distance past the three-minute mark, and then the set was finished in less time than they had taken to set up. I wasn't overpowered or converted, but it was a quick enough jolt to keep me entertained.

Listen to a couple tracks from this set here.

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¹ More recently, it was nice to see Pesci get some well-deserved recognition for his non-stop work at putting a wide spectrum of DIY shows together.

² I was also pleased to see that the pricelist behind the bar included EARPLUGS $2 — a necessity in this loud, enclosed space, and something that should be on offer at every venue for folks who haven't invested in a good, permanent pair. P.S.: if you go to shows with amplified music on any sort of frequent basis, you should own a decent pair of ear plugs. A proper pair will not muffle or distort the sound — they will, in fact, make things easier to listen to and being out details that would otherwise get bludgeoned in noise. And you will enjoys shows way more if your ears aren't ringing afterward.

Gig: Frankie Rose and The Outs

Frankie Rose and The Outs (Little Girls)

The Shop under Parts & Labour. Wednesday, January 12, 2011.

Wickedly cold out after a big snowfall, the last thing I wanted to do on a Wednesday night was head out to Parkdale. My vaguely grumbly mood going in wasn't helped by the fact that the show was starting pretty late for a weeknight, with sets slated for 11:30 and 12:30. So there were some things set against it from the get-go, but at least I was warm as I descended into The Shop's basement space. A laptop DJ played a mix of girl group and similarly retro sounds to set the mood as the place filled up and I looked at my watch, hoping that things would go on relatively on time.

Openers Little Girls, no strangers to playing at The Shop, were having a bit of a tough time getting through a linecheck so the start was indeed pushed back a little. Although it was actually rather instructive to pay attention to Josh McIntyre and company as they prepared — the band's preferred sonic palate is so muffled that someone might mistake their preferred deliberate tweaks for an accidental mess. Once things got underway, the band seemed a bit more prepared to stretch things out and glide along compared to the last time I saw 'em. That had been recent enough that most of the changes in the set were little things — the vocals were higher in the mix, for example. That doesn't mean they're comprehensible, mind you, so much as an echo-y muddle. But definitely a louder one.

Also, as more time goes by, this feels more like a band and less like the bedroom recording project it started as. McIntyre's fellow guitarist¹ is making increasingly key contributions both instrumentally and with his vocals. Again, you have to watch them a little to see just what's going on — given how much echo there is on everything, different voices and guitar lines sometimes bleed and melt into each other. Enjoyable stuff, and I would note that the band is continuing to evolve from what I'd seen here, with McIntyre taking an increased interest in a keyboard-driven sound.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Outside of the vague/wide net of "reverb-heavy pop", there wasn't a lot to align the openers musically with Frankie Rose and The Outs. The band is something of a pedant's dream with all the connections and comparisons that can be drawn out. Frankie Rose's project tends to get lumped in with, say, Best Coast and Dum Dum Girls for narrow stylistic reasons (as well as lazy gender ones). And Rose's past membership in Vivian Girls and Crystal Stilts are easy pointers, too. The scuzzier elements of her sound do link her solo material with the latter bands — and there's a bit of Golden Triangle in there, too. But on record the traces of sonic murk ultimately are subsumed by the pure, sunny AM-radio popcraft of Rose's songs.

Live, with Rose plus a second guit backed by a rhythm section, there's understandably a bit more rock'n'lurch, but there's also an "implied" element of restraint to the songs, like opener "Save Me" (the last track on their self-titled album) which was delivered in an agreeably languid style, the band not in too much of a rush. That mostly worked, but there were a few points where I was kinda waiting for the music to shift up to the next gear, which didn't always happen. Rose did tear into bubblegum anthem "Candy" with some gusto, mind you.

Rose was also in an upbeat mood on stage, praising crowd and venue and even returning a lost wallet that she'd found in the bathroom. Acknowledging the enthusiastic vibe amongst the crowd, the set hit most of the upbeat points of the band's self-titled album, wisely not slowing things down too much with some of the album's quieter moments. There was also a new song or two in there as well.

It was a satisfying set, but not mind-blowing. All told, there wasn't anything here that improved on the album versions. I suppose my reaction is coloured by the fact that this was not my favourite crowd ever. More than a little yappy, there were a lot of people who apparently wanted to come stand right up front and get caught up on their gossip with friends. And during the bouncy "Girlfriend Island", a guy near me started yelling at the woman beside him — though he was later bounced, so was a bit more amped-up than the crowd at large. Still, in a place like Parts & Labour, where you can only really see the band if you're right in front of them, you'd think you'd be able to hear 'em there as well, too.

Listen to a track from this set here.

If you noticed that the pictures here are way better-looking than they normally are in these parts, that's because I've borrowed a few shots with the kind permission of Ivy Leah. Ivy captures the passion of bands because she's passionate about them as well — and can be found right up in the thick of it at many of the city's finer no-bullshit rock'n'roll shows. Check out her stuff here.

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¹ I'm having trouble finding a reputable source for the band's current and relatively stable lineup — even the band's wikipedia entry lists two different lineups.

Gig: Brides

Brides (METZ / Tropics / Actual Water / Young Mother)

The Shop under Parts & Labour. Saturday, December 11, 2010.

A bit of an event down in Parkdale, with local No Wave noisters Brides playing their final show together. Although their recorded legacy is thin, they were well-beloved as a live unit, and went out in style by bringing no less than four like-minded bands to play with them. I was more of an admirer than a fanatic, but I felt like I should be on hand for this.

Knowing this was going to get jammed, I took care to get to The Shop in good time. My feelings for the venue continue to be a bit up and down — I rather like it when there's about fifty people in the long, low-ceilinged bomb shelter-like space; but when there's a couple hundred people on hand, it feels like a claustrophobic sweatbox and it gets hard to see and hear the bands. Weighing my options for the night, I decided to forgo my usual spot right up front (where at least you can see who's playing) and park myself on the back of the tiered gym benches along the long wall opposite the bar. From there, I was as elevated as could be over the crowd, so I could make out some of what was going on up front — though not a good spot for a bad photographer like me. It takes you out of the action a bit, but at least it generally sounded good and kept me out of harm's way.

I was also eager to be there early to catch Young Mother, who had impressed me when I'd seen 'em before. And though their first song was titled "No Straight Lines", I think that they were a bit less single-mindedly monochromatic in their presentation than when I'd seen them before — the songs were a little shorter and punchier this time 'round, and singer Jesse James Laderoute even cracked a joke, telling the crowd, "I promise I didn't match my guitar to my turtleneck intentionally." Still, underneath all that, the band was still manufacturing a calculated squalor with occasional bursts of rapidly babbled sing-speak lyrics breaking out into howls and no-wave sax bursts¹. After four relatively concise songs — a couple in the two-minute range — the band closed with the relatively expansive "The Well-Tempered Male". Impressive once more, it was nice to bookend a show demarking one band's denouement with another really on the cusp.

Listen to a song from this set here.

Meanwhile, the night's between-sets entertainment was handled by Doldrums, with Airick Woodhead doing something in the slippery zone between conventional DJing and his standard one-man-band chop/copy/loop routine. Perhaps best to say that he "Doldrumized" the music he was playing in the same manner he creates his own, tweaking sounds in real time, dropping in treated samples of the music from just-completed sets all while bopping away as if he were there primarily to entertain himself. Later on in the night, Woodhead would test the goodwill of the crowd by playing some of the most diametrically opposed tunes imaginable to the evening's bands, including dropping Cher's "Believe" — and then deconstructing it in real-time, talking over the music to ponder on the lyrics and ask the crowd if, in fact, they really do believe in life after love.

I'd been curious for a while about Actual Water, who'd originally had a rep for noisy squalor. But that's been torqued with the release of The Paisley Orchard, their third album, which promised something else entirely. Apparently a core duo of Tony Price (guit/vox) and G.P. (drums), they were rounded out with bass and second guitarist. Laying down a loud rock racket crossed with twelve-string jangle could go wrong, and when the first song kinda muddled along, I wondered if this was going to be any good. But suddenly it all clicked together gloriously and all at once the band's sound was in focus — flower punk with no lack of heaviosity.

As others would throughout the evening, Price mused on their connection to the night's headliner: "The first show we ever played was with Brides," he noted. And, as if eager to get to their set, the band kept things concise, cramming in seven songs in just over twenty minutes. Intriguing stuff, and a band worth checking out.²

Listen to a track from this set here.

From there, the rest of the bands were more familiar to me, including Tropics. "I want to welcome you to the Battle of the Bands, 2010," joked singer/guitarist Slim Twig after leading off with one that might be called "Holy Water", which worked in the basic Tropics template of hammering drums from Simone TB countering Slim's slashing guitar and slurred screeches. But their sound is evolving a little, I think. The guitar is a bit less thin/harsh than is used to be, mediating the abrasiveness of the sound. That's relative, of course — the music is still way more Alan Vega than Buddy Holly, and still feels like a cauterizing wallop in the band's usual quick bursts.

Joking about the quick twenty minute sets the bands were playing, Slim Twig noted, "most bands have to shorten their sets — we're lengthening ours." In fact, they still came in as the shortest burst of the night, but there was some definite gems in there, including "Pale Trash", now out on a 7".

With METZ taking the stage, the room seemed as full as before, but now there were twice as many people trying to cram themselves right up against the band, making the back half of the room look quite empty by comparison. As loud as it was, people obviously wanted to get face-to-face with the band's riff-y ferocity. As usual, the stage area was dark, the illuminated bass drum the only source of light. Once the band's spazz-grunge attack was underway, I couldn't see much of anything going on past the pulsating crowd, but there must have been some bodies bouncing off the gear, as the microphones kept getting unplugged every once in a while.

Still in the process of recording their debut long-player, for this set unreleased material would outweigh the stuff from their singles — I recognized "Dry Up" and "Negative Space", and there were a couple familiar from past shows. There were also a couple brand new songs, including one with a snappier-than-usual tempo: "this is the only song that we can honestly say is a dance song," commented bassist Chris Slorach. I've now seen the band enough to be past that initial shocked-and-awed stage, but I still found it to be a bracing experience.³

Listen to a track from this set here.

The hour growing late, some of the crowd slipped away after that. It would be about ten to two when the last set began. Overall, from the outset Brides went about their business without sentimentality — this was more like a one last mad rush into battle than a victory lap. And despite the finality of the occasion and the reverence paid to them by all of the earlier bands, they didn't play for very much longer than anyone else, preferring to lay out their final testament in a concentrated blast that was done in under half an hour. That didn't mean they were rushing it — the set began with a few minutes of instrumental build. This might be a sign that the band had grown some since I'd last seen 'em — or perhaps my mind tended to remember the blasts of skronk more. Still, all the main elements I remembered were here, with saxophone blats butting up against the thrum of the music, all a backdrop for Elliott Jones' panicked-sounding vocals.

Even if the band seemed relatively reserved, there was certainly more palpable emotion coming from the crowd, and even when the music was syrupy slow, the audience was still seething and slipping around on the beer that had been sprayed around at the set's beginning. I wasn't close enough to really be able to catch what was going on, but there was some antipathy towards the audience from Jones — whether that was part of the band's antagonistic pose or the crowd was getting a bit too aggressive I cannot say. But when Jones commented, "that's it man, I'm not doing any more... everybody's bleeding too much playin' up here," he wasn't speaking metaphorically. Afterward, I spotted guitarist Michael Pytlik washing a bleeding gash in his hand clean. How that came to pass, I couldn't see from my vantage, but it probably explained the "fuck all y'all" that the band closed with. Maybe not the best way to go out, but rather apt, metaphorically speaking, given the band's abrasive vibe. Thus passeth Brides, though some members can already be seen around town in new bands, perpetuating the rock'n'roll circle of life.⁴

Listen to a track from this set here.

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¹ I noted that the band had a new sax player in tow, but I have no information on who he was. Apparently savouring the mystery, there's still not a lot of information online about the band and who's in it, but they do have a generous assortment of music to check out on their soundcloud, which is the most important thing.

² Tropics and Actual Water (plus out-of-town guests White Suede) will be playing June 17, 2011 at the Feast In The East II show at the Dickens Street Theatre.

³ During NXNE, METZ will be playing a free show at Yonge-Dundas Square (June 16, 2011) along such distinguished company as Fucked Up, Descendents and OFF!

⁴ Though I haven't caught 'em yet, Elliott Jones' new project Ell V Gore — which also features Tropics' Simone TB on drums — has been hotly tipped.

Gig: Anagram

Anagram (Deloro / Bruised Knees)

The Shop under Parts & Labour. Friday, October 22, 2010.

A return for Anagram to the bomb-shelter environs of The Shop, this time as the headliner celebrating the long-awaited release of Majewski¹, their second album. The album adds by subtraction, stripping things down to the raw fury that the band exhibits at their shows, with Willy Mason's taut guitar lines the counterpoint to brother Matt's aggressively slurred vocals.

This would count as highly-anticipated in some circles, and I figured there'd be a tightly-packed crowd coming out for this one. I figured it would be a good idea to get there early — fortunately there was an intriguing pair of openers to start things up.

Leading off the night was Bruised Knees, who don't share much information about themselves on their myspace, but I recognized Chuck Skullz (ex-Creeping Nobodies). Leading off with a five-minute instrumental featuring textured guitar and extra percussion, they were definitely not afraid to let the songs stretch out. With a detuned, off-centre groove, the first point of comparison here is probably going to be Sonic Youth — Skullz' guitar work (at one point he jammed a screwdriver in the neck of his guitar) and vox do bring Thurston Moore to mind.² But Natalie Logan's vocals, as well as her extra percussion, tug that in a different direction. Apparently the first time out with a new lineup, the band (anchored by Dennis Amos' drums and Graham Hancock's bass) was pretty fluid in the execution, which is vital for music that is more about the texture than singalong moments. Enjoyable stuff.³

Listen to a track from this set here.

I definitely came to this show excited to see Deloro again — the first time 'round they were very much an unknown quality to me, though with some intriguing familiar faces. While they set up, someone beside me in the crowd had asked me if I knew anything about the band and I gave a flip response along the lines of "imagine if Slint recorded a country album". Which was succinct and adequately reductionist for random semi-shouted conversation with strangers in a dark bar, but obviously a bit short on nuance. Still, as the band started playing at a slow simmer, if felt kinda right. The trio of vocalist/guitarists up front (Jennifer Castle, Paul Mortimer and Tony Romano) worked off each other as drummer David Clarke (a member of $100 alongside Mortimer) and bassist Dallas Wehrle (ex-Constantines) kept order.

The place was now packed and boiling, the band playing to a semi-attentive audience, even right up front. It was a "hey brah"-heavy crowd — about whom we'll hear more anon — treating this as background noise while busily getting their drink on. Some material managed to cut through — especially the superb "Drugs", as well as a pair with Jennifer Castle on lead vox. If there's a connection to the hurtingest kind of country music here, it's the the general sense of dread that the music trades in — the sense that things have been going wrong for a long while, and everything points to things going wrong up ahead. The music slowly built up to a shouty frenzy ("she said, 'take me as I am!'") and Paul Mortimer's closer had a bit of a redemptive vibe to send things out on a less-bleak note. Powerful stuff, and I was glad to have caught the band again, though I still hunger to hear them under slightly better conditions.

Listen to a track from this set here.

And then, The Shop was at about maximum crammage as Anagram took over. Launching straight into a schizophrenically locked groove, it took about the length of a song for the crowd to reach the hypnotized state that seems to take people over whenever they play. By the time band launched into "I've Been Wrong Before", bodies were bouncing around, and soon, it was pretty crazy.

Given singer Matt Mason's propensity to wander out among the crowd, there's always a fuzzy sense of where the band's space ends and the audiences' begins — and in the no-stage setup at Parts & Labour, it was even fuzzier than usual. The front rank of the crowd were pressing in past the monitors and the mosh-y people were getting really intense. People — by which I mean "dudes" — were pounding on the low ceiling when not bracing themselves against it to gain leverage as bodies bounced around.

When Mason wandered into the crowd, he was getting more than just bumped into, and the people pressing forward were knocking into the gear. From what I've seen of Anagram, it says something when the crowd is getting too much for the band. After "Evil", Mason inveighed against the crowd, "this is fun, but could people stop treating this like a fucking therapy session!"

Playing for nearly an hour, this was a marathon set by Anagram standards that allowed for not only an intense airing of the Majewski material but more as well. Not only did the band play go-to Cleavers cover "Fish", but also took a run through Leonard Cohen's "The Butcher".⁴ In one sense this shouldn't surprise, as Mason's songwriting, full of internal rhyme schemes, is less far away from folk cadences than you might expect. And lyrically, this one fits just fine into the Anagram worldview: "Well, I found a silver needle, I put it into my arm. It did some good, did some harm."

And then just a couple more to close it out, the quicker "Oh Well" followed by an extended run through the appropriate-to-finish-with "That's a Wrap". The set ended with Mason calling out individuals from the crowd: "You're an asshole."

Now, I come from outside of the punk/moshing culture, so admittedly some of the subtleties are lost on me, but I left the show thinking about the relationship between this band and their music and how crowds react to it. Is the crossing of a line from self-governed frenzy to assholish disruption a logical extension of the behaviour that band encourages? At some level this is music with a murky relationship between bad vibes and catharsis mediated through aggression and controlled chaos. Ask any suburban kid who tried making napalm in their back yard and you'll hear about the fine line between ecstatic release and getting burned. But it must be tough for a band that banks on a very particular kind of dynamic with the crowd to power their performances to depend on everyone — even the Friday-night "hey brah!" lunkheads — to understand the limits how far they can push things. Or each other.

But still, if you're not interested in the social experiment angle of an Anagram show — and not all of them are like this, by any means — you can still experience what's best of them in your own headspace with a copy of Majewski.

Listen to a track from this set here.

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¹ The album is titled in tribute to late poster artist and friend of the band, Michael Majewski.

² Skullz was a precision craftsman, with one rack of effects for his guitar (which was then, I believe, run through a keyboard) and another for his vocals.

³ I've already seen this band in further action and I can report that they're getting into their groove even more than when I saw 'em here. I do recommend checking them out.

⁴ "The Butcher" is now available with "Fish" on a 7" from the Telephone Explosion label.

Gig: Bishop Morocco

Bishop Morocco (Procedure Club / Little Girls)

The Shop under Parts & Labour. Saturday, August 28, 2010.

"Due to the nature of lemon-flavoured rum," as my notes indicate, my memories of this night are a little fragmented. A delightful summer evening of backyard hanging out and barbeque had me sipping beverages since late afternoon, so I was pretty wobbly by the time I headed off to the gig. Which put me in a hyper-observant and obsessively documentary frame of mind. My notepad has page after page of observations from this night — a good chunk of them from before I even got to the gig, as I was apparently trying to tease out mystical signifiers on the Lansdowne bus ("this is the holy route into Parkdale") and considering the virtues of "fake mental text messages" (?!). Unsurprisingly, of course, even when my scribbles were legible, it was mostly drunken woo-hah.¹

Though I was slow in getting down to Parts & Labour, I had the drunkard's serene egotistical belief that they wouldn't start without me, and as I stepped in I indeed had time to grab a drink — oops — as Little Girls finished setting up. It'd been awhile since I'd seen Josh McIntyre's combo — in fact, all the way back to their fourth show, just as the project was transforming from bedroom-based recording project to buzz band. As that bubble of hype was waxed and waned, there's been the full-length Concepts and a pretty regular slate of local shows. And, beyond the momentary flash of hype, some genuine forward movement.

Live, the quartet created a murky, underwater sort of vibe. After an opening instrumental, the remaining songs featured McIntyre's deeply buried vocals mired in layers of reverb, sometimes sounding like they might belong in a slower song entirely than the rest of the surrounding band. Generally speaking, the music was spiky two-guitar stuff. There were some points where the guitars got muddled like the vocals, but there was still room for the band to get catchy on songs like the jaunty "Youth Tunes". It all created a somewhat dissociating vibe ("this is happening," my notebook reads, as if I was trying to reassure myself) but there was a more consistent sound than I remember, and some moments where it all blurred together rather deliciously.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Slotted in the middle was the band that I had come down to see: Procedure Club, a two-piece out of New Haven, Connecticut with Adam Malec on guitar and Andrea Belair on keybs and vocals, with the drum machine sitting on a stool beside her. I'd rather enjoyed their Doomed Forever album² on Slumberland — one of the best labels going right now. With their hazy bedroom pop offering flashes of Black Tambourine via the Jesus and Mary Chain, Procedure Club fit well on the Slumberland roster, and I definitely wanted to show my support on their first visit to these parts, even if I was vaguely worried about how the lo-fi duo were going to pull it off as a live unit.

As they got going, the potential frailties of their setup were evident, but more than overwhelmed by the pop sensibility behind it all. The songs were generally built up from a steady drum machine beat, rhythm guitar and fuzzy keyboards which sometimes sounded like there was a loose connection somewhere, with Belair's vocals tying it all together, even when they were the lowest thing in the mix.

It was a largely stripped-down sound — a bit too so much at times — though the economic virtues of not adding any extra hands to tour with are pretty clear. It did make it a little harder for the pair to break through to a non-rapt, semi-chatty room but I was taken with the uncluttered sound. Songs sometimes came off a bit more straightahead than on the album versions, as on "Feel Sorry for Me" with one less layer of haze to draw attention away from the popnugget underneath. That didn't always work as well — the ridiculously wonderful "Rather", slowed down from its album incarnation, didn't quite capture the magic.³

If there's a criticism to be made here it's that the songs are sometimes a little indistinguishable. But I really love the sound so that doesn't matter so much to me. And there is a bit of a limit to what two people and a drum machine can replicate live. But if you thought labelmates Pains of Being Pure at Heart were getting too commercial, this is a band worth checking out.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Having gotten what I came for, seeing the night's actual headliners was just gravy, although I was curious to see Bishop Morocco — mostly to see what kind of musical common ground had been negotiated between the band's two principles. A partnership between Jake Fairley (ex-Uncut, though also with some solo work to his name — most notably his big beat album Touch Not the Cat⁴) and Jim Sayce (ex-Deadly Snakes as well as co-founder of the late Tangiers), long-time friends whose music to date has not been particularly overlapping.

The upshot of their collaboration was something that initially sounded closer to what I would have expected from Fairley, inasmuch as there was a synth-y sensibility to the whole thing with beats a few steps closer to the dancefloor than the garage. Along those lines, the first song featured atmospheric synths over a metronome drum machine beat. The tempo picked up after that, but the material was still synth-heavy in a dark disco kind of mode — my overall first impression was that for them "Last Year's Disco Guitars" wasn't just a song title so much as a statement of purpose.

Starting as more of a studio project, the pair played everything themselves on the tracks that'd become their self-titled album, but live have grown into a four-piece. Even then, it wasn't until a half-dozen songs in that the drummer joined the fray, which added a bit more of a "rock" sound — though at a few places that was rock in the manner that, oh, New Order was rock. Sayce and Fairley traded off vocals from song to song, but there was a unified underlying vision.

Ultimately, the vibe was plastic permagrim, and it was okay to listen to, but nothing in the set really reached out and grabbed me. Mind you, I'm not sure if the muffled sound they were getting here helped. And, to be sure, I was sobering up by this point — my notes by this point are more focused on the vast number of pedals in the band's employ than in the deeper meaning of what they were doing — so that might have something to do with their music affecting me differently than the preceding bands.

They played an eleven song, forty-minute set which pretty much represented their entire output so far. I wasn't won over, but I wouldn't say I was turned off. If we manage to cross paths again, I'd give 'em another go.

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¹ Perhaps all-too-aptly, I made some breathless notes about being on the verge of aphasia, though in retrospect I'm really sure I meant synesthesia.

² You can download two of the best songs from the album over at Slumberland's website.

³ I don't know whether to be sad or relieved that the band didn't attempt "Seventh Circle of Hell", another of my faves, which sounds like the work of someone attempting to write an ABBA song where their only point of reference was a slightly warped cassette copy of The 6ths' Wasps' Nests album.

⁴ I note that Fairley was a couple years ahead of the curve in the indie rock cat sweepstakes.

Gig: METZ

METZ (Anagram / Induced Labour)

The Shop under Parts & Labour. Friday, August 13, 2010.

Having arrived after heading over from my previous gig, I only caught about the last ten minutes of Induced Labour who were perhaps as discomforting as their name suggests. Being stuck back in the crowd at The Shop is not a good way to be able to garner information like how many people there were in the band or what precisely they were doing to cause all that screaming.

That would turn out to be nothing more untoward than one manner of the group's vocalizations — there'd also be some croaking and shrieking on tap, all accompanied by rapid fire drumbursts and a constant guitar roar. If you listened to about five randomly-selected vintage AmRep tracks at once — or the soundtrack to a rock'n'roll demon possession in real time — you might get a similar effect.

Straight-up noise rock is generally outside my purview, so that I didn't get too much out of this should be taken with that in mind. Even when there was a veneer of tunefulness — like in the last song where they were ripping off "Ode to Joy" — this wasn't easy-to-digest stuff.

As the floor cleared out between sets, I was able to move up and grab some real estate closer to the front. And I did want to be be close to see Anagram, though experience told me I'd have to pick my spot carefully to not put myself in the path of what would surely be plenty of bouncing bodies. My absolute interest in seeing this set certainly struck me — when I saw Anagram for the first time at the start of the year, I enjoyed it, but I hadn't been electrified. And yet it was one of those shows whose memory grew on me, enough that I did seek them out a couple more times, seeing them at shows that managed to make me into a most ardent enthusiast. Perhaps it was partially that this show in P&L's somewhat claustrophobic basement surroundings was the most "standard" environment I'd seen them in for awhile might help to explain my affection.

Or perhaps it's that Anagram's music is so affecting. Even if I'm not one for the physicality that this engenders in some, there's something here that gets under my skin. And even if it's not something pleasant, given the band's emotional tone and subjectmatter, it feels damn good. To put it another way, the response in those forcing their way up to the front was not so much mosh-y as push-y and agitated.¹ Looking around, I noted I wasn't the only one captivated enough to want to get close despite the peril — I'm amazed at the extent to which people will risk expensive-looking cameras by getting right in the action during sets like this.

Leading off with "Done Yet?", the turbulent thrum built up and there were soon bodies moving around — and suddenly waves of heat and stale beersmell started wafting through the room. That song, like most of the set would be from their then-forthcoming (though now-released²) Majewski album. At this point, seeing them live was the only way to commune with these songs and to get a feel for how they are constructed. It's interesting to note how most songs don't start with a count-in but rather a bass riff from Jeff Peers, whose low-end underpins things as Willy Mason's guitar slashes in from various crosscutting angles. Meanwhile singer Matt Mason attacks the songs on another front, prowling out into the crowd as far as his microphone cord would allow.

The songs are lean and sinewy but they can stretch out as necessary, the band sometimes riding out an unchanging chord to tension-inducing lengths. Besides the originals there was an especially good version of "Fish", a song by Whitby's Cleavers that Anagram have made their own. Mason's pauses stretch out longer and longer ("she scratches by back... scratches my toes...... Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.") to almost awkward lengths before the band comes back in. An intense and rather excellent half-hour.

Listen to a track from this set here.

I'd been hearing good things about headliners METZ for a while, but before this night our paths had not crossed. Taking the stage about quarter past one, the trio were celebrating the release of their third 7" single. They've been stingy on the official releases while building up their repertoire and their rep as a superior — and loud — live act.

As the set began, I felt a pleasing burst of flannelled familiarity — this is grunge, in the sense that we meant it back in my day.³ The band makes no effort to dispute this connection, here even introducing "Negative Space" (one of the sides from the new 7") as "Drown". "Alex wrote it with Smashing Pumpkins back in the day. It's on the Singles soundtrack," was the joke from bassist Chris Slorach. Labels aside, the music was, as advertised, loud and intense. I'd been holding the spot I'd grabbed to listen to Anagram, but things right up front were getting more animated. For my own peace of mind I moved around to the side, where it was generally more peaceable but the sound a bit more muddled up. The band did a pretty good job of plowing through what could have been a slop-inducing mess, beer flying through the air and friends up front more than willing to lean in to the microphones to add their vocal contributions.

Playing from all of their singles plus throwing in a couple newer ones, I was generally enthused by the band's interesting positioning in the catchy/not-catchy continuum. Not a lot of singalong choruses or anything, but some guitar hooks that you can catch on to. But also plenty shouty sharp corners in the Jesus Lizard-y mold, and the band was willing to let the beat drop and the guitar slip into shards of less-structured noise every once in a while. Good stuff.

Listen to a track from this set here.

As I'd felt on other occasions, I had somewhat mixed feelings about the venue — the vibe is apropos to the music but there really isn't enough space to step away if you happen to be a one that doesn't want other people's sweat (or gawdknows what else⁴) on you. And if you want to actually hear and see the band, you have to insinuate yourself right up in the thick of it. At the same time, a few overenthusiastic knobs aside — and they're everywhere, sadly — it's generally a comfortable enough crowd to be in, and the people who run the joint are class acts. Which is to say the space isn't without flaws, but I guess they're not so immense to keep me from heading back there on a semi-regular basis.

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¹ This, of course, doesn't give people licence to act outside the bounds of polite behaviour. For the life of me I cannot understand how these tall louts who suddenly have to be at the very front once the music starts think it's okay for them to push aside and stand in front of people shorter than them.

² By virtue of trying to capture their live raw abrasiveness, Majewski is the band's least compromising recording to date. Although not suitable for every mood, it's a rip-snorting bit of work and one of my favourite albums of the year. No CD release, but you can grab it on vinyl if you're into that sort of thing, or as an intangible artifact here. Bonus points for selling the album in FLAC sans extra mark-up.

³ When I say "grunge" in casual conversation, I don't mean anything like a lot of dross that came to get lumped in with the term — I mostly mean, "it sounds a bit like TAD."

⁴ On my way out, as I stopped to give my regards to Anagram guitarist Willy Mason, there was a dude doubled over one of the room's plastic garbage cans. "Is that guy puking? Is that what's happening here?" he asked, looking mildly less than thrilled.