Showing posts with label wilderness of manitoba. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wilderness of manitoba. Show all posts

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Recording: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Artist: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Song: unknown*

Recorded at Christie Pits Park (Bloor Ossington Folk Festival – Day 1), September 17, 2016.

The Wilderness of Manitoba - unknown

It was a bad news/good news sort of vibe down at Christie Pits. There was a sense of triumph that the festival — for the previous five years a well-curated, intimate event with an enjoyably-casual vibe — was happening at all, given that it was at the very precipice of the plug being pulled in the face of some expected grant money not coming through. The joy at the fact that the organizers found a way to go ahead with it was tempered by the sadness at the corresponding announcement that this would be the festival's final edition. On Saturday, the fact the event had been downsized — losing its main stage and moving everything under the beer garden tent — turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the day arrived with the (seemingly annual) dose of rain. The park was eerily quiet but it made everything feel extra dry and cozy as the bands played.

It sometimes gets too easy to take a band for granted when they feel like a part of the background fabric of the musical community. For one reason or another, I had missed out on a whole album cycle of live shows from The Wilderness of Manitoba, for whom 2014's Between Colours was now mostly in the rear view as they previewed material from their forthcoming fifth album. The band has always featured an evolving cast around frontman/songwriter Will Whitwham, so it was no surprise to see different faces surrounding him on stage — but there was a surprising sonic consistency from what I recalled, the group's sonic palette showing their accumulation of folkish and California mellow-rock tendencies, all held together by warm vocal harmonies and a certain "homeyness". Raven Shields, on vocals and guitar, was a new element since I last saw the band in action, but gave a nice contrasting balance to Whitwham's vocal work. This one-off show felt like a casual neighbourhood hang-out for the band — there'll probably be more activity on the horizon once the new album makes its way into the world.

* Does anyone know the title to this one? Please leave a comment!

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Recording: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Artist: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Songs: Echoes + Help Me [Joni Mitchell cover]

Recorded at Trinity-St. Paul's United Church, October 26, 2012.

The Wilderness of Manitoba - Echoes

The Wilderness of Manitoba - Help Me

Full review to follow. A celebratory night for The Wilderness of Manitoba as they launched their new Island of Echoes album to a hometown crowd. This big church-y space is exactly the sort of place I wished I was seeing the band play every time they were drowned out by the semi-indifferent patrons of a bar. The interesting thing is that the band has evolved to a state where they are so much bolder in their presence that they'd have much more of a fighting chance in that sort of environment. It's been happening in stages in front of our eyes, so it's striking to step back and see how much the band has evolved — the close-harmonized folk base is still there, but now the band can just as organically pull off, say, the Fleetwood Mac-flavoured "Echoes".

This was also a coming out party of sorts for new-ish singer/violinist Amanda Balsys, so it was befitting that in the encore she got a vocal spotlight with a sterling take on Joni's "Help Me" — and didn't it feel good.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Recording: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Artist: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Song: Morning Sun*

Recorded at Artscape Gibraltar Point (New Traditions Festival), June 30, 2012.

The Wilderness of Manitoba - Morning Sun

Full review to follow. A lovely day on the Island for the New Traditions Festival, organized by Whippersnapper Gallery, the Fedora Upside Down music collective and Artscape Gibraltar Point. A botched "late night ferry" service put a damper on things at day's end, but there were plenty good memories. A set composed of almost all new material really whets the appetite for the band's sophomore release, forthcoming this fall. The new ones featured the band's signature vocal harmonies, but a couple went in a slightly more rocked-up direction than previously. There was no title called out for this one with its "show me, show me, show me" "jolie, jolie, jolie" refrain.

* Thanks to a commenter for passing along the title to this one!

Friday, December 9, 2011

Recording: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Artist: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Song: Orono Park

Recorded at Lee's Palace (CMW 2011), March 10, 2011.

The Wilderness of Manitoba - Orono Park

My notes for this set can be found here.

Festival: CMW 2011 (Thursday)

CMW 2011* (Thursday) (feat. The Wilderness of Manitoba / Miracle Fortress / Imaginary Cities / Young Galaxy)

Thursday, March 10, 2011.

This is an expansion of my initial notes from the festival, which can be found here.

8:00 P.M.: The Wilderness of Manitoba @ Lee's Palace

For their first time at Lee's, these local folk harmonizers were happy to be playing in their own backyard ("just a twenty minute walk from our house"), making for an easier time than the bands coming from all around the world. They were also playing, at the outset, to a crowd that they could have fit in their house, facing the that typical festival early-slot slightly antiseptic sight of an empty-ish bar with about a half-dozen camera-toting types in front of the stage, snapping away — and not much else.

Showing some awareness of the environment they'd be playing in, the band put together a very well-constructed setlist. After starting with "Hermit", just to announce themselves, they followed with a few quieter songs while the room was quiet — "The Great Hall" got a very nice reading — and after that ramping it up as the place filled in, ending with their more rambunctious material. That meant Will Whitwham's vocals weren't lost along the chatter too much. There was also a nice mix of older and newer material, with "Evening" and the fine new "Chasing Horses" rubbing shoulders before the set closed out with a rollicking version of "Dreamcatchers".1

Listen to a track from this set here.

9:00 P.M.: Miracle Fortress @ Lee's Palace

"We'd like to introduce you to some new songs," said Graham Van Pelt as he finished his preparations. True to his word, he presented a set filled with material that would emerge a couple months later on sophomore album Was I the Wave?. He also brought his own lights, laser-y pinpoints that zigzagged around the dancefloor, occasionally blinding audience members with direct light blasts2 while leaving the stage almost entirely in darkness. The Remain in Light-ish textures of "Tracers", including an extended instrumental intro, showed off Van Pelt's new sound, which brings a definite unified sensibility, although a rather different one than he displayed on his first album. Although I'd had a hint that this was the direction he was going in, one got the sense that some people in the crowd were disappointed that it was different songs and a different sound that what they already knew.

Also on stage was drummer Greg Napier, who also plays alongside Van Pelt in Think About Life as well as in his own project Special Noise. Right up front and facing the singer, he was turned perpendicular to the crowd — a layout that may well bring to mind Woodhands, which can only raise unflattering comparisons to that band's Paul Banwatt. Here, rather than driving things, Napier felt more like window-dressing, adding accents to the rhythm tracks. The show could have gone on without him, but he did add some kineticism on stage.

It turned out to be a relatively quick set — just five songs — ending with the I'll-House-You-isms of "Raw Spectacle". But it was certainly enough to make a bold statement of what his new album would be like.

Listen to a track from this set here.

10:00 P.M.: Imaginary Cities @ Lee's Palace

Weirdly enough, when I had previously seen Winnipeg's Imaginary Cities, it was also while I was waiting to see Young Galaxy. And the most glib evaluation I could give of them would be to say that they are a pleasant diversion to pass the time while you wait for another band.

That last time 'round they were pretty new as a unit and a generally unknown quality, their biggest calling card being Rusty Matyas' known affiliations with The Waking Eyes and as a touring member of The Weakerthans. But less than a year later, they definitely had a few woo-hooing fans, and, impressively, one dude who stood up front, mouthing all the lyrics to himself.

And there were signs of a band with a lot more miles on the road — "Say You" had a bit more belt to it, and the band presented with more swagger generally. Marti Sarbit's soul-referencing vocal stylings are the band's best feature, and she was in good form here.

Some of the material felt like stuck-in-first ballad-fodder, like "Where'd all the Living Go" — even if it gave Matyas and the bassist a chance to show off some co-ordinated "rock" moves. And it was good to see that the band is expanding their songbook with new material like "Cherry Blossom Tree" and "Marry the Sea", but maybe because the set was front-loaded with the older, road-tested stuff and the latter part with more of their newer songs that I found it most pleasant at the start followed by diminishing returns.

They certainly put their all into it. By the time the band went out with slow-dance "That's Where it's at Sam", Sarbit sounded winded. And they'd clearly won over a few more people, though ultimately it just doesn't seem like they're fated to have a particularly electrifying effect on me.

Listen to a track from this set here.

11:00 P.M.: Young Galaxy @ Lee's Palace

Swapping fire for water, Young Galaxy decided to push themselves out of their safety zone, reinventing themselves with a glossier, more-dancefloor/less-rock sound on their Shapeshifting album, which they were launching with a quick tour before pausing for some parental leave. And though it is a sonic departure, it's also a continuing evolution from where they had been. Including, for example, in the increased reliance on Catherine McCandless as the lead vocalist, announced here right from the start on "Blown Minded". She has a striking vocal presence, and puts a more unique stamp on the music than partner Stephen Ramsay. For this show, whether it was the challenge of playing new songs with a new lineup or the added wrinkle of being pronouncedly pregnant, she wasn't quite nailing all her marks here — "Phantoms", for example, felt like it was just hinting at its potential.

"It's all so new for us. It's like a new band, basically... it's the first time we've played these songs live." said Ramsay, who was still in top form in handling the bulk of the banter. Now a five-piece, Ramsay (guit) and McCandless (keyb and electronics) were joined by an additional keyboard player, bass and drums, and for this being the first show for this incarnation of the live band, it went generally well. That Ramsay was pretty open about it all ("we're not slick yet... so thanks for your kindness.") made it feel more endearing than stiff.

"This is the dance test," Ramsay said before "Peripheral Visionaries", and after an opening shapeshift-y trio of songs, there was an "old one", with "Queen Drum" to act as a reminder of the past. Even it had some additional electronic textures in the background, and in another switch, "Long Live the Fallen World", which had served as set closer for the past while, had been supplanted by "B.S.E.". That'd be "Black Swan Event" to the less acronym-minded, and its refrain of being "intoxicated by re-invention" was sort of the key to the whole thing.

Listen to a track from this set here.


* A note on nomenclature: for years both the industry showcase and music festival components were known as Canadian Music Week. But as of 2009, this was deemed to be too simple and straightforward, and the music portion was "rebranded" as Canadian Music Fest, under the aegis of the larger Canadian Music Week. I see no reason to put up with this and will simply refer to everything as CMW — although there was a part of me that also considered using the slightly cumbersome "Canadian Music Fest presented by Canadian Music Week" throughout.

1 No pending live dates for the band, but if you're seasonally inclined, they've just released a couple xmas songs.

2 Miracle Fortress: come for the songs, stay for the free laser eye surgery! It should be noted that at CMW, with so many media types around, a standing-in-the-dark type of stage presentation often has the unintended effect of forcing the photogs to break out the flash, kinda undermining the effect.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Recording: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Artist: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Song: Summer Fires

Recorded at The Tranzac (Southern Cross Lounge), December 31, 2010.

The Wilderness of Manitoba - Summer Fires

My notes for this set can be found here.

Gig: Tranzac New Year's Eve

Tranzac New Year's Eve (feat. Octoberman / Sandro Perri / The Wilderness of Manitoba / The Rural Alberta Advantage / Light Fires / Hooded Fang / Sister / I Am Robot And Proud)

The Tranzac. Friday, December 31, 2010.

Deciding where I was going to go for New Year's Eve was pretty much a no-brainer. Instead of going to a bar and feeling dour, for the past couple years I'd enjoyed the friendly-faces vibe in the Tranzac's shabby living-room surroundings — the fact that there was good selection of local bands playing is almost just a bonus.1 At least that's the sensibility I tried to approach the evening with, as more of a fun and social time than a musical event to be observed and documented. That the notes below veer in and out of thoroughness is a sign of my mixed success at the endeavour — try as I might to just hang out, my brain usually gets caught up in the gig at hand.

Pre-show festivities out meant that I got into the Tranzac around 9:30 — early for a gig, never mind New Year's Eve — but it did mean that I'd missed an early set by Laura Barrett. As it was, just managed to catch the end of Octoberman, which is essentially a vehicle for the songs of Marc Morrissette, as far as I can tell. Sometimes he plays solo, but here he was backed by a group of friends — I recognized some of the people with him on stage, including violin player Randy Lee. I didn't have more than a passing notion about the band going in, but the vaguely Wilco-y material that I heard intrigued, putting the band on my radar for a fuller accounting.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Popping into the main hall, caught a bit of the end of Sandro Perri's set2, but didn't stick around too long, heading back to the smaller Southern Cross Lounge to snag a spot for The Wilderness of Manitoba. As the acoustic guitar and prayer bowls sounded the extended opening to "Hermit", I wondered if the NYE crowd would stay quiet to listen to this. But though the chatter picked up a bit as the set went on, it was far better than I expected.

Like a lot of local bands, The WoM had played some of their earliest gigs in this room, and their homespun, rootsy sounds still felt quite right here. Fairly packed with people, despite playing opposite The Rural Alberta Advantage, the room was boilingly hot by set's end, which was acknowledged with the otherwise-unseasonable "Summer Fires". A nice capper to a successful year for the band, the set drew mostly from their full-length When You Left the Fire, but dipped back for the older "Evening" (by now a clap-along standard to the audience). And mixing up the setlist, the band played the brand-new "Chasing Horses", a sign that there's more to come.

Listen to a track from this set here.

And then back to the main hall — where the big digital clock projected above the stage was at about quarter to eleven — for the end of The Rural Alberta Advantage's set. Didn't feel too bad about missing out on the rest, having caught them at Lee's a couple weeks before. It was surprisingly roomy for a set by a band that'd sold that much bigger venue not long before, with a small cadre of folks up front, and a lot of elbow room and people chatting further back. And it was rather unusual to see Paul Banwatt to the rear of his bandmates in the "usual" drummer alignment instead of being lined up with them at the front of the stage — though that was explained as singer/guitarist Nils Edenloff thanked Hooded Fang for sharing their gear before they wrapped up with "The Dethbridge in Lethbridge"

I only saw a song-and-a-half of RAA, which is okay, as on this night I was more looking forward to Light Fires, who I'd been interested in seeing for awhile. I'm generally interested in anything new from Reg Vermue, for whom this has become an outlet for something different than Gentleman Reg, his "name" band. But though usually considered as having come from the troubadour school, he has long shown an interest in electronic music — the electronic stylings of "We're in a Thunderstorm" having been presaged by some other dancefloor dabblings. Further giving this a distinct identity, Vermue performed the set as Regina Gentlelady, his drag persona, foregrounding all the brash fabulousness he can muster.

He was backed up on stage by the more subdued James Bunton, best known for his work in Ohbijou. Here, the drummer was working with an entirely different set of rhythmic tools, standing barefoot behind a table of electronics working the beat in real time.

As they got ready to play, Vermue teased the crowd with a few a capella lines of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance", and if I were a more with-it observer of popular culture — in fact, I had to google the lyrics to figure out what song it was — I'm sure I could whip off some astute observations on the aspirational connections at play here. Instead, though, I'll just have to let Vermue's pithy, slogan-worthy choruses speak for themselves, and the most memorable of the lot — "If you're bored, make it up!" — does the job nicely.

Working in this beat-driven domain, Vermue boiled his lyrics down to easy-to-grasp catchphrases, like in "The Better" ("the riskier the better / the butter makes it better") where his words were warped with an aggressive autotune effect. I liked the buzzy upbeat groove of "Let's Get Divorced", after which Vermue had to slow things down for a song that was less dance-y and more synth poppy — and actually one of the best songs they had. Meanwhile, as the pair moved through a full set (nine songs, all told) the crowd was keeping busy batting around the dozens of balloons that had been dropped from above. A good way to ease out the year.3

After that, a quick changeover so Guy Lombardo Hooded Fang could be on stage and ready with a couple minutes to spare before the giant digital clock hit midnight. As the crowd counted down to the new year, D. Alex Meeks greeted it with a drumroll and the horns kicked into "Auld Lang Syne", the rest of the band picking it up with an amusing slight lurch before veering off into an equally unsteady cover of David Bowie's "Let's Dance". As singer/guitarist Daniel Lee read the lyrics from his notebook, Nicholas Hune-Brown pulled a sweet 80's new wave vibe from his keyboards. It had an appropriately "let's get ripped and dance" sort of feeling.

After making notes that Matt Beckett (ex-Bicycles) was sitting in for bassist April Aliermo and considering the merits of a pleasingly ragged run through "Highway Steam", I remembered it was New Year's Eve, and reckoned I should try and have a happy and sociable time to try and start the year off on the right foot, so I made the unusual move of wandering around, and treating the music as background, so I don't recall what else went down in much detail, though there was an unprecedented second cover (even one is rare for Hooded Fang), with a sprightly clap- and dance-along version of New Order's "Age of Consent".

During HF's last song, moved over with a bunch of friends back to the Southern Cross lounge, which was running a little late. We managed to step in to catch pretty much the whole set from Sister, who I'd been waiting to see again after enjoying the first time I'd encountered them. They were still playing the snappy "Wishbone" as we entered, and I thought this might be another set where I'd be paying half-attention, but my friends settled attentively in right up front, so I ended up back in my usual mode.

So named for the connection between singer/guitarist Carla Gillis (also a local music writer of note) and her sister, drummer/vocalist Lynette, the trio (rounded out by Pete Johnston on bass) were mostly playing songs from their EP, as well as some that haven't been released yet, like "Imaginary Love Notes". A bit more considered and "classic rock" than the Gillises past work in well-regarded East Coast fuzz-poppers Plumtree, Sister's songs tend to stretch out to four or five minutes. Letting the groove cook a little, the journey is just as important as the lyrics, fitting for a band whose songs employ no shortage of travel imagery, from the "Off Ramp Up Ahead" to the train in "Orion". On the latter, Geoff Miller once again joined the trio on keyboards, adding a tasty saturation to the sound before the set closed with the jaunty "Feather on the Ocean Floor".

After that, a lot of the crowd started to make their way out, so by the time that I Am Robot and Proud were getting started around 1:30, enough bodies had left that I could grab a seat. And though there was still some boozy rambunctiousness afoot, it was staggery and muted, and this felt more like a regular Tranzac gig. All the moreso with the players on the stage being no strangers to this room. The brainchild of Shaw-Han Liem (on keybs and laptop), the live band is rounded out with Robin Buckley (drums), Mike Smith (bass) and Jeremy Strachan (guit). Those musicians can be found with Liem in a series of overlapping bands, stretching back from the Sea Snakes to more current projects including Tusks and Jim Guthrie's band.

The vibe for this instrumental project is technofuturistic optimism, smooth and sleek. This is the sort of music that should come with projections behind the band — perhaps computer-animated footage of an endlessly unfurling highway ahead, or an anime superhero flying off into the horizon. On studio recordings, the band is more strictly defined by Liem's keyb sounds, sometimes sounding like distant kin to Richard D. James Album-era Aphex Twin. But with the band behind him, there was more "rock" (even of a restrained, arranged sort) in the sound, and tracks like the fab "Making a Case for Magic" could easily fit in on a Sea and Cake album, with Strachan's sustained tone bending up against Smith playing the highest notes of his bass. The songs stretched out enough that there were only played five titles in the half-hour set, including a new one called "Circles" and finishing off with "Center Cities" from The Electricity in Your House Wants to Sing, a title which also sums up the band's vibe pretty well.

Casting a warm spell on the humanoids dispersing from the cozy Tranzac, the music gave me a shield of protection against the hell-is-other-people parade of Bloor Street at two a.m. on New Year's Eve. Goodness, was I ever glad I was in the Tranzac all night and not out with those people.

Listen to a track from this set here.


1 And, of course, the night was also important as another in the series of fundraisers to help get the Tranzac back on a stable financial foundation.

2 A., also searching for a non-bar NYE excursion, came out for the night. Having seen Hooded Fang before, I think he was under the impression that all the bands would be upbeat, poppy fare — y'know, something to dance to on New Year's Eve. That something as artfully askew as Sandro Perri could be featured on the main stage, even relatively early in the night perplexed him, and as we headed out of the room he asked me, "is there any music here that won't make me me want to kill myself?" With HF and Light Fires it mostly ended up a draw and he survived the night.

3 Light Fires are a natural pick for Pride, and will be playing the Alterna-Queer stage (Alexander Parkette, next to Buddies in Bad Times) on Sunday, July 3, 2011 at 3:15 — well worth ducking away from the parade for.

Friday, April 15, 2011

Recording: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Artist: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Song: Forest City Love

Recorded at The Horseshoe Tavern, November 25, 2010.

The Wilderness of Manitoba - Forest City Love

My notes for this set can be found here.

Recording: Olenka Krakus

Artist: Olenka Krakus (feat. members of The Wilderness of Manitoba)

Song: Flash in the Pan

Recorded at The Horseshoe Tavern, November 25, 2010.

Olenka Krakus - Flash in the Pan

My notes for this set can be found here.

Gig: The Wilderness of Manitoba

The Wilderness of Manitoba (Leif Vollebekk / Olenka Krakus)

The Horseshoe Tavern. Thursday, November 25, 2010.

A No Shame-promoted Thursday night at The 'Shoe is probably going to get a pretty good crowd, so my main worry going into this one was whether it would be quiet enough to hear the bands. Thankfully, the fact that the whole bill was on the quieter/folky side probably kept away some of those looking for a more hootin' and hollerin' sort of show, and it worked out generally okay. The night started with the quietest of the three acts — London's Olenka Krakus who was, on this night, performing sans her Autumn Lovers. I was, admittedly, checking this out more out of curiosity than devotion, as the only other time I had seen Krakus perform, it hadn't done much for me. But she had gotten some pretty glowing reviews for her new album And Now We Sing so I tried to see if I had been missing out on something.

For this night, Krakus was getting by with the help of some Toronto friends in the form of a rotating support cast from the evening's headliners. That included Stefan Banjevic's cello and Melissa Dalton's harmony vocals on "45". "The rest of the band is drunk in London," Krakus joked with the crowd while introducing "Berlin", the first of a few songs done totally solo. The thinner crowd out for the opening slot were paying attention to her warm voice ("I believe this might be the quietest I've even seen The Horseshoe," she commented) making this feel like the right situation to properly appreciate her efforts. Still alone on stage, she did a beautiful version of Big Star's "Thirteen", her voice illustrating the yearning ache of the lyrics. This went a fair ways towards winning me over.

And then Banjevic and Dalton returned, this time joined by Will Whitwham, making a whole alternate mini-band for "Mama's Bag". Feeling at ease in front of a crowd that was playing attention, Krakus played "Shadow Walker", a fresh one, newer than her just-released album. The set closed with the older "Flash in the Pan", Whitwham getting to join in on what he called of his "favourite songs ever".

A worthy set — enough that next time around, I'll go in prepared to pay some closer attention.

Listen to a track from this set here.

The first time I saw Leif Vollebekk I was actually a little surprised that it clicked with me. I'm generally suspicious of singer-songwriters who wear their Dylan-ish influences so openly on their sleeves — if only out of a sense of their general fungibility. But something in Vollebekk's toothy smile and unaffected air — not to mention his songs — did work for me.

He's pretty open about his inspirations — there's no doubting the affinity he feels for a scuff-it-up-a-bit sonic approach. "It's out of tune — this is an homage to Neil Young," he said, launching "Off the Main Drag". "If not, the next one will be." But lyrically, he's more inclined toward Dylan, cementing that with a cover of "You're A Big Girl Now".

With the room filling in, there was a bit more background chatter by that point so I was glad to see him with a backing rhythm section, including stand-up bass. The trio brought a nice kick to "Don't Go To Klaksvik". Besides that one, there's a marked geographic theme to Vollebekk's titles, with the set also including "Quebec", "Southern United States"1 and "Cairo Blues" all helping to mark him as the classic sort of wandering singer, soaking up everything he sees.

He did a lot of tuning between songs, but it was mostly covered with engaging banter and it didn't leave much sense of dead time sapping the momentum. And keeping things nicely mixed up, the set closed with his slowed-down take on Neil Young's "Barstool Blues", now with just Vollebekk plus his drummer, the delivery involving a loop pedal to build up a sonic backdrop of violin parts behind his electric playing. A good closer, capping off a solid set of well-written songs and earnest delivery.

Listen to a song from this set here.

Though I was no stranger to them, this was probably the first time I was eager to see The Wilderness of Manitoba. I was a little dubious after the first couple times I had seen 'em, filing their gentle folk excursions in the "merely pleasant" pile. My opinion was changed a bit by their sheer ubiquity as a local live act, but moreso by actually sitting down and listening to their full-length When You Left the Fire, which really made a case for the band.

I was worried that a show in a get-drunk-and-loud bar environment might not be the place to consolidate my appreciation, but leading off with the rollicking beat of "Dreamcatchers" (from their 2009 debut EP), it seemed like the band has learned something about grabbing the attention of a larger, maybe less-attentive crowd. Getting people onside with something upbeat allowed them to hold onto people when they followed it up with the quieter "Orono Park". As the set went on, people got yappier, alas, but never enough to impact too much on the set.

And this was a good room for the band's harmonies, which are central to their sound. With a line of microphones up front, the well-arranged four-part harmonies are one of the band's strongest points. That they are writing some strong songs to put their voices into helps as well, and I was glad to hear "Hermit", one of the selections from the album that had made me think I'd been selling the band short. The set drew mostly from the album, though they threw in the unreleased "Forest City Love" and closed out the main set with "Evening" — a signature song of sorts, and one of the original touchstones that defined the band's sound.

They returned for a couple more, closing with the seasonally-correct "November", another of the album's best tracks. No doubt playing a lot of shows and getting out on the road a bit had done the band some good — overall, they were more focused than when I'd seen 'em before, holding things together over a longer set. All told, a warming finish to a good night.

A couple different flavours on tap: check out a couple songs from this set here and here.


1 That one made for a weird coincidence: Krakus had played a song called "Berlin", and this song talked about listening to Lou Reed's Berlin.

Friday, March 11, 2011

Currente calamo: CMW 2011 (Thursday)

CMW 2011 (Thursday)*

While these shows are fresh in my mind I want to get some quick notes down. I'm a nerd for not wanting to throw my full reviews out of sequence, so there'll be a fuller accounting of the night by and by.

6 p.m.: The Balconies @ Sonic Boom

A good turnout during the first afternoon of a three-day mini-festival in Sonic Boom's basement, the store raising the bar once again and hosting an hourly daytime cavalcade of acts. The Balconies were making something of a spring awakening, emerging out of hibernation with a set filled with new material. The new songs leaned a bit more towards "rock" — and away from "pop" — than the stuff from their debut album that we'd gotten used to, as well as leaning more heavily on guitarist Jacquie Neville to take an even larger share of the vocals. Neither of these are a bad thing. The new songs might be a bit less immediate than their precursors, but I'm prepared to give them a good chance to grow more on me — I'm sure we'll be getting plenty of chances to see them over the next few months.

8:30 p.m.: The Wildnerness of Manitoba @ Lee's Palace

The crowd slowly filing in to Lee's wasn't too substantial at first, which meant there were less people discovering this fine band, but also meant there was enough quiet to appreciate what they were doing. They took advantage of that, front-loading some of the quieter material at the start of the set. Proud to be playing Lee's for the first time, they were mostly relying of their familiar material, though ace new one "Chasing Horses" made it into the set list. As the room filled, the band got a bit more raucous, never getting drowned out by the crowd, so hopefully some new ears were exposed to their richly harmonized sounds.

9:30 p.m.: Miracle Fortress @ Lee's Palace

It's been more than a year-and-a-half since I've checked out Graham Van Pelt's pop project, and the stuff that he was working on then has now fully gestated with a new album finally on its way. Jumping out of the gate with a strong Talking Heads vibe, the material has an 80's DOR undercarriage. Joined by a drummer on stage, Van Pelt still isn't putting on much of a show, but this time brought some high-powered lights and lasers to dazzle/blind the crowd. Not that such a distraction is necessary — he's on to a good sound, and there were a few top-notch songs here.

Listen to a track from this set here.

10:30 p.m.: Imaginary Cities @ Lee's Palace

Strangely enough, this is a band I've seen twice while waiting for Young Galaxy to play. But while they were very new and rather an unknown quality last year at NXNE, here they had a crowd of fans waiting to see them — fans enthusiastic enough to be singing along to themselves. The band was certainly more natural in their delivery than when I saw them last year, but that confidence has manifested in a bit too much bland smoothness. There's nothing wrong with their brand of soulful rock'n'roll, but it didn't really stick with me at all.

11:30 p.m.: Young Galaxy @ Lee's Palace

"It's like a new band," said singer/guitarist Stephen Ramsay, commenting on a set filled with both new material and a torqued musical approach. That's evident on their new third album Shapeshifting, and Ramsay told the crowd they were the "guinea pigs", the first to be subjected to the new live approach. Trading in anthemic guitars for more shimmery keybs, the band has metaphorically made the elemental shift from fire to water, well symbolized by singer Catherine McCandless, who was très enceinte. In the past Young Galaxy have been a bit of a hit-or-miss live proposition, but I think that the mechanized elements of the new approach are enforcing some regularity on their sound. Which has to be considered a good thing, as this was an interesting set, with even older material gaining a new disco-y sheen.


* A note on nomenclature: for years both the industry showcase and music festival components were known as Canadian Music Week. But as of a couple years ago, this was deemed to be too simple and straightforward, and the music portion was "rebranded" as Canadian Music Fest, under the aegis of the larger Canadian Music Week. I see no reason to put up with this and will simply refer to everything as CMW — although there was a part of me that also considered using the slightly cumbersome "Canadian Music Festival presented by Canadian Music Week" throughout.

Friday, November 26, 2010

Recording: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Artist: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Song: Hermit

Recorded at The Horseshoe, November 25, 2010.

The Wilderness of Manitoba - Hermit

My notes for this set can be found here.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Recording: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Artist: The Wilderness of Manitoba

Song: Evening

Recorded at The Garrison, January 21, 2010.

The Wilderness of Manitoba - Evening

Notwithstanding the breaking glass near the end, this was about the least talked-over song during the set. Not as pristine as I'd have hoped, so here's hoping I'll have a nicer recording of this band further along.

My notes for this set can be found here.

Gig: The Wilderness of Manitoba

No Shame Presents: The Wilderness of Manitoba / Ghost Bees / Casey Mecija

The Garrison. Thursday, January 21, 2010.

Out on a Thursday night to check out this No Shame presentation at The Garrison. Nice to note some little signs of things "settling in" there. The famous blank red walls are now broken up a bit with some non-art — black, fabric-covered squares looking like Velvet Elvis paintings yet unborn. Plus, I noted a strip ad in eye's clubs page lending a sense of established permanence to the place and alerting the larger world a bit more to its existence.1

I arrived in a bit of a haze, heading over after a rather baffling film and spent my first few minutes there staring blankly off into space trying to sort it all out in my head, dizzy with idea of reincarnation or eternal return or the universal similarity of human experience. Or something like that, I think. Fortunately K. — a bit sad for having a connection for some Dinosaur Jr. tickets not come through — showed up and re-focused me on the present.

In a weird, back-to-back sets coincidence, the first artist of the night, Casey Mecija, was also the last I'd seen at the last show I'd been at. This time out, things were even more stripped down, with the bulk of the set being a truly solo affair, just Mecija with her guitar and kickdrum. Different enough to make it feel like I wasn't just getting the same set twice, and a nice chance to hear the new material again and let it sink in a bit more. She led off with two of the same new songs heard at the Daps show, and then was joined on a few songs by Jeff Debutte (from The Acorn) adding some sympathetic, understated guitar lines and backing vox for a couple more new ones. The night's chatty crowd was a bit of a bother during the set, although with the venue still filling up, it wasn't too bad at the start. A gap to change tunings amped up the chatter a bit, though, and from then it didn't really abate, even when Mecija launched into the much-loved "The Otherside".2 The set ended with another run through Nathan Lawr's "Barking at Your Door" — "I wish I'd written this one," Mecija told us.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Somewhat to my surprise, by the time that Ghost Bees were on stage, the place was packed. And folks were getting a little restless waiting for the set to start, not helped by a lengthy wait for the band to get everything plugged in and ready to go. Definitely a bit of a rough set-up day for the band — sometimes that just happens, but the slow start and frequent gaps between songs didn't help things along. Once things were underway, they started with one of those zither-y songs, filled with the close harmonies of twin sisters Sari and Romy Lightman accompanied by their uncanny looks directed at each other (implying "we're communicating telepathically!"). The band's effectiveness was being undermined by the loud music from the front room making its thumping presence felt over the delicate sounds on the stage, which seemed like a lack of care on the management's part towards the punters trying to watch the show.

Meanwhile, of all the gigs that I was expecting to see a steel drum solo, a Ghost Bees show might have been near the bottom. But there it was — an interesting idea, it was sort of played with a melancholy edge as a segue while the band's "secret" guests took the stage for a trio of songs. Although masked, John O'Regan would probably stand out in any crowd. The hooded keyboardist, meanwhile, might have remained shrouded in secrecy until beginning to sing — Katie Stelmanis' lovely, distinct voice quickly giving the game away. The four-piece played a slow, dirgeful tune that lumbered along a bit like a sleepy golem.3 The final song with the expanded lineup was a little more animated and showed the potential here, as the twins traded lines back and forth with Stelmanis and O'Regan, like an excerpt from some creepy opera.

But overall, I'd file the set under "not wholly successful experiment". Certainly the venue and crowd had something to do with the somewhat difficult reception this engendered in me, but part of the problem could also be gleaned when the twins came back out, unaccompanied, to play (as a slightly-unearned encore) their signature song "Sinai" ("You came tumbling and I was sorry") — which has a bit of something catchy to it, something you could hum to yourself afterwards, while the other material, well, not so much. I guess I'm glad that Ghost Bees are challenging themselves and their audience, but for myself, I need a bit more of a spoonful of sugar to make the medicine go down.

Although the last time I saw the Wilderness of Manitoba I found them pleasant but not compelling I knew I'd be seeing them again for further evaluation. As K. found a chair to sit a bit between sets, I told her that this would probably be down her alley, what with it featuring banjo and curly-headed boys and all that. Tired, she stayed sitting down as the band emerged at about quarter after midnight, but had moved up to where I was standing after a couple songs, giving a nod of approval. The band's central elements remain in place — the rootsy sound backed with harmonies and singing bowls, but it did seem tightened up some over the past few months. Plus, the set included some new material, such as "St. Petersburg", "Orono Park" and "White Water", the latter featuring a very fine string intro from Stefan Banjevic. The new songs seem like a nice extension of their original burst of material. Of those, "Evening" still works pretty effectively, and showcases why no small number people are utterly convinced by this band.

But not everyone, I guess — the crowd was still chatty during this set. Less so than during Ghost Bees, but still enough to be a distraction. As for me, on our way over to the bus stop after, I admitted to K. that there's still something about the band that keeps me from totally buying in. She promptly told me I was crazy and wrong, so take that under advisement. Still, I would yet like to hear the band in a fully sympathetic environment.

Listen to a track from this set here.

In the final analysis, this show was... okay. Maybe it was just in the wrong venue — the same bands playing at the Music Gallery, say, or Holy Oak would probably have gone over much better. It does make one wonder — what can the Garrison do to facilitate quieter shows? It's mildly amusing that in a venue that was quickly becoming famous for overwhelming volume that the bands were getting overwhelmed by crowd noise. But it's probably a good thing that bands playing quieter music didn't just have the volume knob cranked up — which'd probably just lead to people talking louder anyways. The biggest part comes from the atmosphere and culture being created at The Garrison. Is this just going to be a — ugh — hipster hangout, or is this going to be a place where people come to listen to music? I wonder what would happen if, for a show like this, the venue simply set up a few rows of chairs in front of the stage — would that be enough to get people to settle down and pay attention?4

Regardless, kudos to No Shame champion Lauren Schreiber, who packed the place out on a Thursday night with home-grown talent. I bet there were touring acts with higher profiles passing through town this same week playing to less crowded rooms, so it's worth celebrating what was going on here. The next step is being able to hear it as well.


1 The admirably minimalist website, however, could use a slightly sharper eye at the controls, this show being listed as the sic-inducing "Wilderness of Manaitoba + Ghost Bees + Casey Macida".

2 In a more just world, there's be a roadie at the ready to hand Mecija a different guitar for a seamless transition.

3 It was, however, a chance to see that O'Regan unleasing his inner Wyrd Visions, showing off some hitherto undemonstrated guitar skills in unfurling melancholy minor key folk lays.

4 My first idea — roving docents with cattle prods issuing escalating warnings to the yapping folks — is, admittedly, probably a non-starter.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Gig: The Rural Alberta Advantage

The Rural Alberta Advantage / Hooded Fang / The Wilderness of Manitoba

The Horseshoe. Thursday, July 30, 2009.

Even though this was a sold out show, I was mildly surprised at how many people were out early. Although I'm sometimes one to carp about "these kids today", this was fairly decent young crowd, and fairly genteel — save for a small knot of screaming, arm-waving idiots. Perhaps this music (the commonalities of all three bands could be categorized under "The New Sincerity") just appeals to slightly more earnest people. Which might explain the robust turnout for early openers The Wilderness of Manitoba.1 The most earnestly sincere of the evening's bands, this crew draws from the same folkie harmony-worshiping, cite-CSN-as-an-influence waters as your Fleet Foxes and your Bon Ivers.2 The band's sound featured cello, banjo, ukulele and occasional keening, high falsetto. Launching with images of bluebirds singing and autumn leaves, the songs were dominated by earthy imagery and woody sounds. "We're not a very heavy band," averred singer Will Whitwham near set's end — undoubtedly true, and very much the band's blessing and curse. Even with a relatively attentive crowd, their music was eaten up a bit in this space. In a smaller, quieter venue, or out under some trees, this would fit in a little nicer. Although this isn't a style of music that totally accords with my headspace, I was drawn in some by what they're doing — especially when the harmonies hit. Not every song got over, but this band has tapped into a musical vein that could carry them along some. A nice table-setter for the night.

An open apology to Hooded Fang: So, between sets, I was exiting the bathroom, just as HF vocalist Daniel Lee was stepping in. Passing him, I nodded and said, "good luck". And then winced to myself as I headed back upstairs, as I remembered that whole reverse hoodoo thing where you're never supposed to say that to showbiz people. You're supposed to say, "break a leg!" or something like that. So I spent the rest of the between-set time mildly fretting that I'd cursed them.3 I'm sure, though, that Hooded Fang are getting seasoned enough by this point that such small misfortunes cannot overcome them. For this set the sound was a little weird — hopefully not my fault! — with the keybs way down in the mix, leaving the sound a little... empty somehow. This did have the benefit of featuring the rhythm section a bit more than usual, and upping the danceability, which is usually a good strategy for an opening act to employ. So, even if this wasn't the best sounding set I've heard by the band, it was still reasonably fun. Hooded Fang are building up a nice arsenal of tunes, like the peppy "Younger Days", beyond the first salvo that were featured on their EP. Hopefully they won't keep us waiting too long for that album.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Well, things certainly have changed since I last saw The Rural Alberta Advantage this spring. Buoyed by that ineffable buzz, it felt like the RAA were on another level, even if I were only standing a couple feet further away. In this allegedly post-CD age, their album's re-issuing on Saddle Creek is still enough of a big deal to warrant a "CD release party" more than a year after it originally came out. By this point of the night, the 'Shoe was crammed full and getting meltingly hot. From the moment the band took the stage, if was a total love-in — every song was a singalong. Admittedly, this left me with the sense that I was attending other people's church as though I like this band, there are obviously a lot of people who have found this stuff to be in that special category of songs that have become close to them.4

Leading off with "The Ballad of the RAA" and "Rush Apart", it seemed for a moment that the band might've been following through on sorta-kiddding threats to play the album track-for-track, but things were a bit more mixed up from there. It's trite, I'm sure, to bring out phrases like "road hardened", but there was something different in the band's deportment from the previous times I'd seen them. Call it professionalism or just a paucity of goofing off, but Paul Banwatt and Amy Cole now seem to roam the stage less while Nils is playing. And the sound is similarly no-nonsense, beefed up and with any unnecessary frippery stripped away. And while I wasn't amongst the part of the crowd having a transcendent experience, there was plenty in this show to love. I was struck by the quieter moments of "The Air", as well as Banwatt's Ringo-channeling drums on "Sleep All Day". There was also a new song ("The North Star / guiding us home in your friend's car") that looked forward to the future after Hometowns. Perhaps it's best in these loud'n'sweaty circumstances that the band didn't close with their unamplified "Good Night Song", although it was missed.

It's hard to guess what could be next for The RAA. I left thinking "they've made it all the way to the top", as by the standards of bands I tend to follow, they've climbed up a pretty long way. Of course, going home I got on a subway packed with people coming back from seeing Coldplay — apparently they're still around — and remembered that there's that whole other giant terrain of mershy success. I dunno how far this wave they're on will carry the Rural Alberta Advantage, but with luck maybe they'll take their place in yet more listeners' hearts. People could do a lot worse.

Listen to a song from this set here.


Special thanks are due to T., who helped me replace the battery in my recorder, allowing me to get back to fearlessly taping full sets instead of being limited to ever-diminishing bursts.

 

1 Admittedly, from the outset, I took a bit of a disliking to that moniker. My first thought was along the lines of, "um, aren't they stealing RAA's steez with a name like that?" And then there was a sense of generalized discomfiture brought on by the fact that I spent my childhood in the wilderness of Manitoba, meaning I'm allowed to have ambiguous/negative feelings towards it — call that the "Weakerthans effect", perhaps.

2 If I recall correctly, the Mayan calendar predicted that CSN would become a publicly acceptable influence again in 2008 — a sign of worse things to come in 2012.

3 To the good, though, I managed to then distract myself for a few minutes trying to remember why actors aren't supposed to refer to Macbeth by name.

4 It actually arouses a kind of nostalgia in me to get the sense that people have spent a lot of time with the album, know all the words, etc. etc. etc., as this sort of thing happens a lot less to me than it used to. Just part of growing older, I guess, and finding there are less new things to take you by surprise. As to how much falling in love with fewer pop albums is a sign of a wider thing — a fading ability to look at the world with wonderment instead of a vague disenchantment — is a topic that sprawls beyond the purview of this blog. You can observe me, if you must, thinking this one over while wandering the streets or standing at streetcar stops, flicking at the curb with the point of my shoes as I search for cigarette butts worth retrieving to disassemble and combine into new roll-your-owns.