NXNE 2011: Saturday (Part 2)

NXNE — North by Northeast Festival, Toronto, 2011.

Saturday, June 18, 2011 – Part 2. Featuring: Peelander-Z, catl, Biblical, Bad Cop, B-17

N.B.: I had written some contemporaneous notes about the festival here. This redux version comes with a few additional observations as I have now had time to properly go through my recordings. Notes on the first part of this long night can be found here.

Midnight: Peelander-Z @ Comfort Zone

After the relatively sedate button-down orderliness I just left, this was a bit of a fun-aneurysm. Walking into a Peelander-Z set already in progress is like picking up volume seven of a manga series, leaving you wondering how the particularly strange scene in from of you came about. Stories of the band's gleefully absurd live shows are legion, so I thought I knew what I was going to get as I hustled down into the Comfort Zone — but this was more than I was expecting. Within the first couple minutes of my arrival there were on-stage costume changes and an invasion by inflatable monsters.

The band was formed and based in New York City, but it's easy to situate Peelander-Z in the trippy technicolour turbo-mindwarp pop culture of Japan, where all the members originally hail from. Or so one story goes. The band counters such facts with their own cosmic origin story, like a Saturday-morning cartoon version of Sun Ra.

And like a cartoon the songs were introduced with title cards, giving the notion that each segment was more of an excuse for madcap audience participation tactics. In that kind of environment, it's somewhat true that the music was secondary, or at least designed to facilitate the sensory overload. But there's no small amount of fun in their Ramones-y velocity rock, especially given how it could stop and spin off in any direction, from hardcore shout-along to bouncy jazz groove.

Audience participation was pretty much mandatory — but hardly something that had to be enforced. Besides singing along — the lyrics were pretty easy to pick up ("Mad Tiger!" "Ice Cream!") — there were tin bowls and sticks passed out to the crowd for percussion as well as a sort of limbo contest where a rope was passed over the crowd at about shoulder level, forcing everyone to duck. Oh, and there was human bowling.

There was so much going on that I couldn't even begin to account for it all here. The set ended with the band picking out members of the crowd to replace them on stage, and at the end, after all the brightly-uniformed members were introduced by their colour-names, the audience was declared to be "Peelander Toronto". This might sound goofy — and maybe it is — but there something so unself-consciously fun about the whole affair that it transcends any such limitations you might put on it. Next time they come around, don't doubt and don't get hung up on words like "gimmick" — just go.

Listen to a couple tracks from this set here.

12:40 a.m.: catl @ Comfort Zone

The sensory overload didn't end there, as catl's side-stage mini-set started as Peelander-Z's last notes were still fading. "Side-stage" is actually a rather generous description, as the trio were simply set up on the floor in the wing leading towards the bathrooms. So there'd be no separation from the audience here, and soon enough keyboardist/vocalist Sarah Kirkpatrick would be dancing in and with the crowd while Jamie "catl" Fleming plowed onward with his locked-in guitar grooves.

Dancing's an important element here. Always a sweaty celebration of the greasy get-down blues, catl succeed in that they re-invest the genre with propulsive hip-shaking energy, here provided by now-departed original drummer Johnny LaRue. And down in the Comfort Zone's dim blacklight depths, the band was in fine form. They'd already played a full set upstairs earlier in the night as well as three previous between-set quickies like this one. Concert promoter Dan Burke — who tends to run his venues more like semi-autonomous parallel events during NXNE — has had a fair few good idea in his time, but catl-powered festival showcases has to be right up near the top of the list.

Though a good chunk of the packed house fled after Peelander-Z finished, there was a good cohort of folks ready to boogie. With twenty minutes to fill between mainstage sets, the band had time for four songs, three of which were extended groovers — leading with the excellent loose-limbed swing of "Hold My Body Down" — plus the frenzied rush of Hasil Adkins' "Chicken Walk". Playing loose and ragged, this felt just superb, a rejuvenatin' burst that gave me a second (third?) wind that carried me through the rest of the night.

Listen to a track from this set here.

1:00 a.m.: Biblical @ Comfort Zone

The Illuminati was the sort of hard rock band that just wasn't on my radar, so it's unlikely that the merits of bassist/vocalist Nick Sewell would have brought me out to see successor band Biblical. I am, however, an enthusiast for all things Steamboat-related, so a band that includes Jay Anderson (drums), Matt McLaren (here on guit) and Andrew Scott (guit/organ) is going to intrigue me, even if they're working on something out of my musical comfort zone. But Biblical has no traces of Steamboat's feel-good soul groove, instead taking its cues from Sewell's propensity for chugging hard-rock. Local stoner-metal titans Quest For Fire come to mind, but take that amped up a couple notches and veering occasionally from Hawkwind-like drift (thanks to Scott's organ work) into Ace of Spaces velocity.

The talented lineup gives the band some room to deviate from mere heavy metal thunder. Musically, they were more than willing to stretch things out, such as on the more groovy/less menacing "Oubliette", which felt like it'd fit in a "no commercials for forty-five minutes!" extended set on the classic rock station. Also, McLaren's smooth lead vocals on a couple tracks (including "Eyes Of Lies") made for a contrast with Sewell's throaty growl. But it's his gruff voice and meaty bass-playing that really stood out here. He was clearly having fun with this, stepping down into the crowd in the slowed-down middle of closer "Nickel & Dime".

Splitting the difference between cough syrup and trucker-grade speed, this was a bad-news boogaloo that had just the right evil late-night lurch. Heavy music is going through one of its periodic critical re-appraisals right now, so there's no reason that this isn't as accessible to PBR-hoisting Pitchfork readers as unrepentant leather jacket-wearin', devil horn throwin' rawk fans.

Listen to a song from this set here.

2 a.m.: Bad Cop @ Silver Dollar

Headed back upstairs to close things out with the late-night rock'n'roll portion of the programme. I got up in time to catch the tail end of Crocodiles' final set of the weekend. There was a packed crowd for that, but as soon as they finished, a lot of people split, leaving plenty elbow room. At this point of the night, the floor was a sticky mess of spilled beer but the no man's land filled back up when Nashville's Bad Cop took the stage.

I had seen them before — well, sort of — but it was hard to really get the measure of the band that time, as lead singer Adam Anyone (who looked a bit like Paul Robinson in The Diodes' heyday) hadn't made it over the border, and the set consisted of instrumentals from the remaining pair. Making it across intact for NXNE, and bringing an adjusted four-piece lineup, this was a whole different story. Still, even after the first song, basically a garage-y rocker, I wasn't sure what I was going to be getting, but as the band got warmed up, the set leaned increasingly to no-frills punk. After a few songs, a paid of balding middle-aged dudes even tried to start their own pit in front of the stage.

They were definitely getting more exciting from song to song, mostly animated by Anyone's stage presence — as the vernacular goes, he gave good face, with animated eyes and constant motion. In fact, it was after he put down the guitar he'd been playing for the first few songs and went full-on frontman that things really took off.

He certainly brought an edge to the proceedings, presenting songs about being "young and stoned" and "doing everything you want, all the time". There was also, as banter, comments like, "this song is about spending most of your childhood in a Tennessee jail. It's called 'Fried by Lightning'". This would have been a perfect match with Teenanger, who'd played the same stage earlier in the night. It turned out to be an exciting and worthy set, so hopefully they'll be able to get back into the country again.

Listen to a song from this set here.

3 a.m.: B-17 @ Silver Dollar

Three in the morning and the bar was even emptier now, and as I walked around between sets bit of broken glass kept getting caught in the treads of my shoes. Given the length of the day, I didn't know if I'd have been able to maintain much enthusiasm for anyone playing a 3 a.m. timeslot, but this was one of my most-anticipated bands of the night. Perhaps a bit unusual for a band playing their debut performance, but B-17 were being billed as an Optical Sounds supergroup, with Action Makes vocalist Clint Rogerson on bass, alongside Nick Kervin (of the Easy Targets) on drums and a pair of Hoa Hoa's (Calvin Brown and Richard Gibson) on guitars.

Gibson handled some of the vox — the split would even up a bit more later on — but here mostly handled the more tuneful guitar parts while Brown threw down with some ace feedback-drenched wah-wah. In their nascent state, the band was well-formed, but not as honed as they'd get over the following year. One got the sense that the DNA of their influences were still being absorbed — a cover of "Real Cool Time" made sense, and there was otherwise a feeling that the songs were still closer to rewrites of covers that the quartet was surely jamming on together while getting their bearings.

There were a couple of the signature songs that would make it to their debut EP (which is now a thing), including set opener "Bad Situation". "Wishing Won't Make It So" at this point didn't have its title or chorus, but its skeleton was there in a set closer listed as "Sabbataph". Like that song, the project as a whole would become sharper and more focused over the months to come — especially as it became clearer that this was more than just a mere side-project — but this was absolutely an auspicious début.

And from there time to stagger home, exhausted, with another year's NXNE complete.

Listen to a song from this set here.

NXNE 2011: Saturday (Part 1)

NXNE — North by Northeast Festival, Toronto, 2011.

Saturday, June 18, 2011 – Part 1. Featuring: Cartoons, Ivan & Alyosha, Guards, Wild Nothing

N.B.: I had written some contemporaneous notes about the festival here. This redux version comes with a few additional observations as I have now had time to properly go through my recordings.

8 p.m.: Cartoons @ Comfort Zone

By Saturday night, the long slog of NXNE was getting to me a bit, and I was more than a little groggy and in need of a pick-me-up. After the first band I was going to see wasn't close to getting on stage as the hour approached, I was in no mood to wait, so I walked over to CZ to find Cartoons already on stage. As it would turn out, being five minutes late meant I missed about a third of their very brief set. Points for not overstaying their welcome. Their abrasive, AmRep-styled guitar-skinning was pretty invigorating stuff, and I managed to pick up a few lyrics like: "You're stupid!" and "Kill the hostages!" in the shouted din.

Later on, more pieces here would fall in place for me, like putting it together that the band is fronted by Denholm Whale (who also serves as the bassist for Odonis Odonis). Cartoons is part of the Buzz scene, centred around that local DIY label and The Garage, its not-metaphoric, now-defunct venue of choice. Many members of that loosely-connected network have been building momentum in the city's scuzz-punk underground, and now that the likes of METZ and The Soupcans have been taking T.O.'s ugly side to the wider world, this substrata of bands might be getting some more attention.

Listen to a track from this set here.

9 p.m.: Ivan & Alyosha @ Lee's Palace

That set certainly gave me a jolt, though with my underlying fatigue, it's around here that my notepad starts mentioning things like "seeing hallucinations almost". As I headed up to Lee's, getting in with folksy combo Ivan & Alyosha taking the stage, my next comment was far less cryptic: "Ah — here's the earnest shit that I've been dodging so far."

Part of that arose from the fact that this by no means my first (or second, or third...) choice for this timeslot. There were a couple things farther afield that I was more interested in — but seasoned NXNE'ers know that the Saturday night is always a hassle for getting around. Between the big, free show at Dundas Square, Luminato, and some manner of MuchMusic event, the east-west streetcar lines were pretty unreliable, and I wasn't sure I'd be able to get anywhere and back without missing something, as I knew I would be headed to Lee's down the line. So I figured I might as well get in there while it was still quiet and see whoever was playing the early slot there.

There was, in fact, no Ivan and no Alyosha to be found (they are, indeed, characters The Brothers Karamazov), and my somewhat snide first impression of the Seattle band turned out to be not wholly justified. Having four guys lined up across the front of the stage, with an electric guitar, two acoustics and a single floor tom for percussion did create the notion of a rustic folk-rock combo, though it turned out that the usual drummer wasn't present (possibly due to those omnipresent border issues) so the percussion here was as a result of the bassist filling in.

Musically, this would fit next to the northwestern rootsy, harmony-laden, bearded adult-alternative band of your choice. That might sound like I'm consigning them to "generically bland" status, and yeah, that was kinda my feeling at first. But as the set went on, they won me over a little on the strength of their comfortably stripped-down, likeable songs. There were some nice touches as well, like the echo-y ruffles during "Easy to Love".

Playing songs from their then-current Fathers Be Kind EP as well as tunes from their '09 full-length, plus a few from a still-forthcoming follow-up, they were also genuinely gracious on stage, glad to be sharing their songs, even if it was to a thin early crowd. Though it must be noted that the place was filling in as they played, and by the end they were getting good applause for songs like "On My Way" and the profane clap-along "Glorify" that closed it out.

10 p.m.: Guards @ Lee's Palace

Now it was starting to get busy for the night, with the Saturday Night crowd filling in as NYC group Guards set up for what looked to be a more theatrical set. There was a large backdrop with a freemason-ish logo, a lamp on stage topped by a stuffed bird and a smoke machine obscuring everything. The music had a similarly theatrical heft, dabbling in atmospherics of menacing gloom that were mixed with jaunty shots of lightness.

Between the fog and my perception slowly becoming even more unreliable, I wasn't entirely sure what I was seeing, wondering to myself if, in fact, I was seeing an omnichord on stage. That turned out to be the case, and one the more unique elements of the band's sound were the little trills it provided underneath everything else. Interestingly, though it sounded central to the songs, it was apparently the player's first show with the band.

Or maybe I'm just more inclined to pay attention to omnichords. For most people, however, it's ubiquitously mentioned that vocalist Richie Follin is the brother of Cults' Madeline Follin, though that doesn't mean much to me. He seemed to bring a poppy sensibility and classic rock'n'roll changes, reminding me a bit of Bradford Cox's tin-pan-alley side.

There were interesting moments, but a lot of this didn't connect for me. "Sail it Slow" did just that a bit too much, and when they slowed down again for an extended run through "Trophy Queen" toward the end, it didn't quite carry the crowd along. The upbeat material, when tended to come along in two minute-ish bursts (including a cover of MIA's "Born Free"), fared better, but there wasn't quite there enough to stick in my head.

I hadn't given much more thought to the band since this set, but it looks like the hype cycle is coming back around for them, with a single just dropped and their debut full-length out in early 2013.

Listen to a track from this set here.

11 p.m.: Wild Nothing @ Lee's Palace

By eleven, there was a really full house for Wild Nothing, showing how once again I'd missed the boat on a buzz-y band. Which is mildly strange, as this was the sort of thing that I do casually enjoy — the jangly roll of The Smiths, but with its morose-y vibe replaced by a more upbeat, optimistic delivery. Conceptually not so far from, say, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart. Originating as a recording project from singer/guitarist Jack Tatum, he was here backed by a sympathetic three-piece band. In theory, that should have opened up the sound a bit from the self-recorded material (on which Tatum played nearly everything) but the band wasn't exactly jamming out on the arrangements.

Starting with "Golden Haze" — the lead-off title track of the then-new EP that followed on the band's full-length debut — the set would be filled with trebly guitars and gently dance-able beats. The pleasingly bouncy "Our Composition Book" won me over and from there I enjoyed the set pretty well. The music is mostly situated in a fairly narrow stylistic patch, but there were enough variety to keep things interesting. Those minor variations weren't always to the good — "The Witching Hour"'s slower tempo dragged a bit and pushed Tatum a bit out of his natural vocal range.

The songs were then all new to me, but the EP and full-length Gemini album, out for more than a year, had apparently been around long enough for the crowd to have favourites, as there was a cheer at the opening notes of "Chinatown" and "Summer Holiday". And also long enough that Tatum already had a couple new ones to mix into the set. "Disappear Always" would emerge on this year's sophomore album Nocturne, and set-closer "She Falls Down" (a bit colder, and more mechanical than the template, here slowing things down in an interesting manner and gaining gravitas) was even tastier, though it doesn't yet seem to be released.

It was an efficient ten-song set, straightforward and without much banter or showmanship, but a good introduction — I grabbed a copy of both discs on the way out the door.

There was a positively huge lineup for Twin Shadow as I made my way out, but that wasn't the set for me. I was headed off for something far weirder...

Listen to a song from this set here.

This was a long-enough night that I'm splitting this account in two — the rest can be found here.

NXNE 2011: Friday

NXNE — North by Northeast Festival, Toronto, 2011.

Friday, June 17, 2011. Featuring: Persian Rugs, The Young Things, The Vandelles, New/France, OFF!, Heavy Cream, No Joy

N.B.: I had written some contemporaneous notes about the festival here. This redux version comes with a few additional observations as I have now had time to properly go through my recordings.

8 p.m.: Persian Rugs @ The Silver Dollar Room

"Thanks for coming early. Or loading in, or whatever you're doing." It felt a little jarring to roll into the Silver Dollar so early, with daylight leaking in through the back door out to the smoking area — it's like seeing Joan Rivers without makeup or something like that. And indeed, it was pretty quiet in the room as the band took the stage. Drummer Matt Rubba faced the situation with humour, calling out the band's name and inventing a fictional new hometown for Persian Rugs after almost every song.

The band's amiable, low-key stage presence endears me to them, but really, I broke my informal embargo on seeing bands that I'd seen before more to see how their songs and stagecraft were evolving. The vocals were passed around some, but keyboardist Kaye Hamilton is the best of the band's singers and rightfully had the most leads. But the variety otherwise generally works when deployed correctly: guitarist Ian Jackson has a serviceable range that gave a sleepy edge to "Phone Call From the Lake" and Matt Rubba's plainspoken vox powered "It's What You Think", complete with a suitably fun fakeout ending.

It's easy to underestimate the talent required to pull off unassuming modesty, but Persian Rugs have a fuzzy, jangly line on a very cardigan sort of sound, just like the light blue one Jackson was wearing. Seeing them live felt like time well-spent with some previously undiscovered Sarah Records band.

Listen to a track from this set here.

9 p.m.: The Young Things @ Comfort Zone

After that, ducked downstairs to the much-less daylight-afflicted Comfort Zone to check out The Young Things, a NYC quartet with a scrappy, somewhat-retro garage sound. Showing a bit of "industry" ambition, they had a friend passing out copies of their debut EP ... is the killer, to the crowd while they knocked out the songs from it nearly in order.

There were hints of a Beatles-y melodic sense, and that would come out a couple more times — as would a decent talent at arranging harmonies. That would be tempered by an equal enjoyment for a scuzzier kind of rock, as evidenced by "All My Friends Are Junkies" — although, to be honest, they didn't quite make me believe that claim. That back-alley tendency in their sound was faced head-on with a Strokes cover — which was perhaps a bit too on the nose.

This was all enjoyable enough, though when the band left the retro-y sensibility behind, like on "Talking Too Loud" (or on the warmed-over blues-isms of "It's So Easy For You To Lie") they veered too much toward a safe, homogenized radio-ready pop sound. Obviously, that's no more or less original than the garage-y stuff, but for me it's nowhere near as compelling. My prognosis was that this is a band that needed to get more primitive in order to progress.

10 p.m.: The Vandelles @ Comfort Zone

The Vandelles were also up from the Big Apple, and one could tell that they had that palpable buzz that The Young Things were clearing coveting. All at once, the area in front of the stage was suddenly filled with photographers staking out space.

And I could get what the excitement was about when they started playing, a blast of reverb and "Be My Baby" drumbeats. Leading off with "Way Through You" (which their bandcamp cheekily suggests was "released 06 June 1966"), the band was showcasing some tracks they were getting ready to record (and which have now been released on their Strange Girls Don't Cry album).

No complaints with what they were doing, but I couldn't help comparing the band to Chains of Love, who I'd seen the night before — a comparison that illustrated The Vandelles' limitations. Chains of Love dove more forcefully into the pool of their musical influences and went deeper into their shtick, going full-out in their stage appearance. Here, however, Vandelles vocalist Jason (no last name given) played in sandals and cut-off jeans, though bassist Lulu (also no last name given, and fighting a bad back by playing while braced against a tall chair) looked more the part.

And musically, the band were willing to get a little sloppy and could even hint at some Jesus and Mary Chain velocity, but it felt too much like these were ill-fitting sheets draped over songs that really didn't invest themselves fully in the sensibility they were playing at. The fact that they would more recently be selected to open some touring dates for JAMC implies that maybe they're a better fit with that sound than I was giving them credit for, and as they closed with a trio of songs from their Summer Fling EP I was certainly willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

Listen to a track from this set here.

11 p.m.: New/France @ El Mocambo

Crossing the street, I went to this on a hunch, finding something interesting in a blurb mentioning that the band featured "ex and present members of local stalwarts Groovy Religion and La Casa Muerte". Besides the notion of a band mixing together musicians from different generations, the Groovy Religion connection intrigued me.

And, indeed, this band would have no less than Groovy Religion's William New on vocals. Perhaps this linkage of players (who didn't immediately look like they all belonged in the same band) arose from the same ethos New has displayed as a founder of Elvis Mondays — an essential community-building role in T.O.'s indie scene stretching from the 80's to today. Guitarist Roy Pike looks to be of the same vintage, but I can't dig up much about him — and he lacks an index entry in Have Not Been The Same.

Regardless, he did an ace job trading corrosive riffs with Bo Frantz (the Casa Muerte connection, making the band's moniker a bit of a play on words on its two founders' last names) in a stereo back-and-forth of bracing minimalism. The sound was tied together by Jenny Charlton's Mo Tucker-ish drums, played standing up with mallets. There were some superb moments here, with that guitar give-and-take and New tersely sing-speaking his lines in a voice somewhere between Art Bergmann and Iggy Pop while staring down the crowd with a thousand-yard stare beaming out from under his wild nest of hair.

New clearly didn't always feel the need to be the focus, and when not singing, he'd sometimes simply wander to the back of the stage, facing away from the crowd, while the guitars duked it out. And while there were a couple points where things were a bit out of sync and the drums skipped a beat, on the whole this was a rewarding moment of no wave-ish menace. "Moment" is key here — although I did get another chance to see this unit, my understanding is that it was not built to last and is no longer active. Bo Frantz has shifted gears to the promising new Das Rad, while William New endures as William New.

I'd posted one track from this set here — but given that it seems like you won't be able to hear these songs anywhere else I've added another one here.

12 a.m.: OFF! @ The Horseshoe

As the New/France set moved along, there was a shifting dynamic in the crowd at the El Mo, with a different cadre of folks building up at the front anticipating a reunion set by Rusty. That wasn't my scene, so I headed out and ducked down Spadina to Queen Street.

I had something more ambitious in mind, and for once I was going to see one of the more-hyped bands at the festival — which meant, of course, that I was dubious that I'd be able to get in. But with a plethora of good bands playing at midnight, I figured I'd be okay in settling for one of my Plan B's — so much so that I was more than mildly surprised when I managed to get into a packed, sweaty 'Shoe just minutes before OFF! took the stage.

Though I don't have an immense background in hardcore, I do like to feel the energy of it every once in a while, and this new group of veterans seemed like a can't-lose proposition. Fronted by Keith Morris — original Black Flag vocalist and founder of the Circle Jerks — the band includes Burning Brides frontman Dimitri Coats on guitar and Rocket From The Crypt/Hot Snakes drummer Mario Rubalcaba. Rounding out the lineup is bassist Steven McDonald (of Redd Kross fame), younger than the others but emerging from the same Californian milieu.

"Stephen and I go back to a place called The Church in Hermosa Beach," Morris told the crowd. "And we hope that we can transport some of you back there tonight." Evoking the golden age of west coast hardcore (right down to the Raymond Pettibon cover art on the albums) is the band's stock-in-trade.

Even with a slim catalogue of songs to their name, the band had no problem filling out their timeslot when Morris' raps and introductions were considered. Highly entertaining (if a little erratic), Morris discoursed on post-9/11 politics with as much direct intensity as he welded in considering what to do with the errant shoe that had been flung onto the stage. The two things, it turned out, didn't have anything to do with each other, though the possibility was discussed. It also provoked some audience interaction:

Dude in crowd: Play a song!

Morris: Dude, what's your hurry? It's fuckin' Friday night. Where ya goin'... mom and dad gonna show up in the SUV?

When they did focus on the music, the band started at the beginning of the first of their EP's with "Black Thoughts", following it with a couple more of its mates (including an excellent "I Don't Belong") before pausing for a break for Morris to offer forth some more discourse. That set the pattern of two-three song rapidfire bursts followed by pauses for Morris to banter. Both parts of the performance — banter and music — were equally entertaining and just standing back in the crowd watching (I didn't need to be near the frothing moshpit) drained me. But still, great fun.

Listen to a couple quick songs from this set here.

1 a.m.: Heavy Cream @ Comfort Zone

Headed back up the street for another band that I'd seen before, mostly because when I'd first seen bouncy Tennessee crew Heavy Cream at CMW they were suffering through a set with terrible sound. I was able to get the impression that this was my kind of thing, but it was hard to really appreciate them. And though they were battling with some issues here as well — as the last band of the night, they were suffering from a drumkit that was coming apart at the seams — this was a much better showing.

It took 'em a couple songs to get warmed up, but the one-two punch of "Watusi" and "I Know This" was quite fun — sorta like a meeting of the minds between Be Your Own Pet and The Ramones. The band was a constant blur of energy, especially from vocalist Jessica, who exhibited classic frontwoman magnetism, bouncing and shimmying without missing a note.

They played a fair number of songs that would later turn up on this year's Super Treatment, which was produced, notably, by Ty Segall with a lot more oomph than their earlier recordings. And even when the songs might have sounded a little silly ("Summer Bummer" was one title here) the band was seriously into it. The set was over in a flash, leaving a most pleasant aftertaste.

Listen to a track from this set here.

2 a.m.: No Joy @ The Silver Dollar Room

And, making the night close out full circle, it was back upstairs to see another "secret guest" that was pretty widely advertised in advance. I was pretty eager to get a chance to see Montréal's No Joy, whose Ghost Blonde album had really impressed me. Live, the four-piece brought a bit more animation to their shoegazey tunes than I was expecting — the title track, which lead off the set, got some more "push" that isn't there on the album from the drummer.

That wouldn't be expressed with much physical animation, mind you — singer/guitarists Jasmine White-Glutz and Laura Lloyd (the co-founders of the band) were shoegazers in the most literal sense, playing doubled over, their long blonde fair almost constantly obscuring their faces. Sort of the Thurston Moore school of guitar playing, just as there was certainly a bit of Sonic Youth in the band's music. They weren't much for banter, coming and leaving the stage without saying a word, preferring to build up segues between songs (on a couple occasions with sampled film dialogue) instead of creating dead time that might encourage audience interaction.

The set was mostly material from the album, though it did closing out with an extended run through The Shangri-Las' "He Cried", the bassline holding steady to anchor a few minutes' guitar noise to close things out. The musicians weren't inclined to acknowledge the audience but the set definitely made a solid impact on me.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Gig: CMW 2010 (Saturday)

CMW 2010^* (Saturday) (feat. Alfie Smith, Ostrich Tuning, The Bats Pajamas, Elise LeGrow, Easy Targets, Black Feelings, Action Makes)

Saturday, March 13, 2010.

7:10 P.M.: Alfie Smith @ The Silver Dollar Room

It goes without saying that we fail to observe our own blind spots. Having combed through the schedule with an eye to finding different acts — and different kinds of acts — to check out, I thought I did a good job of looking outside my usual boundaries. But when I was going through some of the stuff I was thinking of going to see with a friend, she said to me, "hey, you should check out Alfie Smith." Flipping through all my notes to find who she was speaking about, I was flummoxed until I realized that he was playing in the Blues showcase — which I suddenly realized had been pretty much totally outside my perceptual framework. It's funny how out of habit your brain can just edit stuff like that out without you really noticing. So, after the in-store show at Criminal Records, I found myself making the tromp northward through the grim, lousy rain to The Silver Dollar to dive into something that's generally off my radar. Well, plus there weren't a lot of other options anyways.

It felt strange to go in there with the juxtaposition of the familiar surroundings and completely different crowd than I was used to. By and large the Blues crowd is middle-aged and more sedate. A couple women jumped up to dance as soon as the music was fast enough to justify it, but otherwise folks stayed in their seats. Also a more well-organized crowd, with a table from the Toronto Blues Society handing out newsletters, which seems charmingly quaint.

On stage was Alfie Smith He stayed seated throughout, starting off playing solo on a resonator guitar, with nimble slide runs and a voice that was gravelly, but soulful. Likable stuff, and I think the solo segment was closest to overlapping with I appreciate more about the blues. After a couple songs on his own, he brought up his band (bass, drums, electric guitar) and they tackled the standard "Sittin' On Top of The World", done with a sort of bluesy Bo Diddley beat. And then from there, the sound got incrementally more energized. Smith's own compositions played with the band leaned more toward blues-rock, but again, with a soulful edge. Not entirely my thing, but full credit to him for playing originals to a crowd that would have been completely fine hearing songs they recognized.

I was getting a sense of diminishing returns as the set went on, and yes, I was starting to think of the music as more Blueshammer-y as I headed out with enough time to make it for my eight o'clock pick. Not my scene, but I can appreciate what the crowd was getting out of this — something dependable, something you can dance to a bit, and in an environment where you can sit down and appreciate the show. I suppose that no matter our age, we tend to think that people older than us don't really know how to have fun anymore, but that probably says more about our own age-related insecurities — I've still got it, right? Right? The crowd here wasn't looking for the cutting edge, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves just fine.

8:00 P.M.: Ostrich Tuning @ Comfort Zone

My original pick from this slot was Ottawa's New Teeth, so I made my way over to Neutral. Getting there a couple minutes before eight, there wasn't much gear on the stage, and there were musicians wandering around, crouching and looking at various cables. Looked like it would be a fair few minutes before anything got started. Not in the mood for dead time — and seeing as I'd arrived here as much from the result of a coin toss than a deep curiousity — I decided to move along, and wandered back over to where I'd just left, this time ducking downstars into the Comfort Zone.

Stepped into the room with Ostrich Tuning just about to start. There were five players on stage¹, two guits/bass/keybs/drums, and there was some switching up throughout the set but the music never stopped, with droney segues bridging songs and the spots where folks were passing 'round instruments. There were "songs", I guess, but the band was almost working more as a sort of sonic installation, not rushing anything along, finding a groove and sticking to it. With the General Chaos light show on site, this totally had a space-out-and-drift kind of vibe to it.

Oh man, you have no idea how much this is exactly my sort of thing. Imagine the first Velvets' album being played as slowed-down shoegazer anthems and you get the idea.² There were vox, but they pretty buried and more textural than anything. A top-notch set — one of my favourites of the festival.

This was the first set of the night's Optical Sounds showcase, and from the outset there were some Hoa Hoa's and other members of the OS family in attendance, sitting down and digging the sounds. As I think I've said before: part of what is making Optical Sounds such a powerful force on the local scene is that they are a community of fans and friends as much as anything else. When they bring out a band, it's because it's a band that they want to hang out and listen to. Were I looking to settle in at one spot for the night this would have certainly been it. And with the cold rain continuing outside, it indeed took an act of will to leave and move along.

Listen to a track from this set here.

9:00 P.M.-ish: The Bats Pajamas @ Velvet Underground

Headed down to the Velvet on Queen Street, to see Ten Kens, a local act that I've been meaning to check out for quite awhile now. Walked in at about five minutes to the hour and was a bit to confused to find a band onstage. Someone was running rather late or starting early. I managed to work out that it was The Bats Pajamas³, who were the scheduled eight o'clock band. So — what to do? Unsure if this lot had just started, or were just about to wrap it up, I pulled out my pocket schedule to consider my options. There wasn't anything nearby that I had put in my maybe pile, so I figured I might as well stick around. You never know, right? The ideal for a festival like this is that you randomly walk into a set by some band that you've never heard of and end up finding a new favourite.

Which was not to be in this case. The Bats Pajamas were, it turned out, decent enough, but not especially compelling for me. If I were to pick a point of comparison for this local trio, I'd probably go with early 90's Primus with the funk toned down. I hung around for about fifteen minutes and decided I was ready to go. On the way out, noticed a small, hand-lettered sign indicating that the bands had all been moved up an hour. Timely information, that.

9:30 P.M.-ish: Walkin' in the Rain

Not in any particular hurry to get where I was going, I decided to walk back towards College rather than grabbing the streetcar. A questionable decision, given that there was still a persistent cold rain coming down. But a little pause in the middle of it all to wonder at myself about my approach. Looking at my watch, I realized I could wander up to Rancho and find a lot of friendly faces and check out The Brother Kite — hotly tipped, and probably the sort of thing I'd have easily dug. But I was feeling a resistance to that. Somehow my stringency had slid up a notch: Not only was I looking to avoid bands I knew and liked, I even seemed to be steering myself away from the broad stylistic path I'd normally head for. To what end? Had I moved past challenging myself into some sort of vague masochism? Most importantly, I wondered to myself: who the hell was I trying to impress, anyway?

[Deleted: thirteen more sentences pondering the relationship between what shows one goes to, self-perception and the image of ourselves we project. And some vaguely rambling material considering the existence or non-existence of "the panopticon of proper taste" and "cultural self-policing".]

For just a moment, the grim trudge in the night felt like a bit of a metaphor for the whole thing.

10:15 P.M.: Elise LeGrow @ Bread and Circus

Perhaps adding to my slightly unhappy mood was the my immaculate bang-bang timing was off, and I arrived at Kensington's Bread and Circus early. Enough to just catch the end of Anne-Lise Dugas' set, which was — ummm... — more or less the opposite of what I like, musically speaking. Also, it seemed like I'd found where the "industry" people were unwinding, as there were quite a few sitting around with with swag bags and fancy threads. Enough to put me in vaguely grumpy and oppositional state of mind.

I was here for something completely opposite to pretty much everything else I'd been seeing. Going through stacks of myspace samples when thinking about who to check out, hearing Elise LeGrow taking a page from Ella Fitzgerald and Anita O'Day was a bit of a ray of sunshine, making me curious enough to take a chance. LeGrow, in an elegant blue cocktail dress, was joined on stage by double bass and guitar and also accompanied by Asher Ettinger, playing the piano at the foot of the stage. The bulk of the songs were standards, and all of the musicians were up to task, from opener "Now Or Never" (popularized by Billie Holiday) to a speedy run through "Take Another Guess". Ella Fitzgerald would definitely seem to be the template here in term's of LeGrow's musical approach — and if we're obliged to passingly say that LeGrow is no Ella, the proper follow-up is to shrug and note she's pretty good.⁴ Never sounding rote, she approached each of the songs with gusto and wasn't trapped in a completely narrow range of music, throwing in a slowed-down take on the Motown classic "My Guy". There were also three or four originals mixed in — which again, maybe can't quite stand up to the standards, but it was nice to hear them regardless.

I enjoyed this, though admittedly there was a part of me that was resistant. Maybe just because the set flirted with Diana Krall territory, and, y'know, some part of me is standing on guard against me losing my edge and so forth — no matter how much I'll rail that there are no guilty pleasures and we enjoy what we enjoy and so on. But this was fun and entertaining and a generally pleasant time.⁵ The set started about quarter after and was still going strong when I left just before the top of the hour, which was probably bad news for anyone taking my place in the venue expecting the next band to be starting on time.

Listen to a track from this set here.

11:00 P.M.: Easy Targets @ The Silver Dollar Room

What was that about ignoring the sort of bands I usually go for? Well, you can't do that all the time. Headed back to the Dollar for the first act on the Dan Burke bill, and the first after the end of the Blues showcase. As such, a bit of a weird mix to the crowd, as most of the seats were still filled with the remnants of the earlier attendees. It was interesting to see some different reactions from those folk to Easy Targets — one woman, who had been dancing in front of the stage when I'd been there hours earlier was still at it, and looked like this suited her just fine. Meanwhile, a couple guys sitting at the bar, who probably had a deep respect for the skills and chops of the blues musicians could be heard audibly complaining to the room at large that these guys on stage were completely talentless, were only playing the same two chords, etc. etc.

And, well, maybe they were technically correct on that last point, but they were missing the big picture. On taking the stage, the band started with a couple minutes of psychedelic raga, not doing much but slowly building up. In fact first song "Secret Door" would go on for about ten minutes of let's-take-a-trip goodness. The band had an appealing monochrome sort of sound, helped along by some mildly droning sax, and although it was a good set, that first song was excellent enough to make the rest suffer a bit in comparison. The more straightforward songs that followed were good, but didn't push as hard as that first one. Perhaps it was meant as a statement of intent that served to define their turf, and the rest of the music operated inside that perimeter. At any rate, the other songs did show some different faucets to their sound, including "Hungry All the Time", which touched on folk rock, and their last one, which sounded like Syd-era Pink Floyd after an extra mandrax. The set only went five songs — the last one also stretched out a bit. Something I'd see again, for sure.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Midnight: Black Feelings @ Comfort Zone

Headed back down to Comfort Zone, and immediately felt comfortable, running into some friendly faces. The biggest band of the night, The Hoa Hoa's, had just finished their set, and the crowd was a little on the thin side as Montréal psychedelic-doom-krautrockers Black Feelings were getting set up. Their set started with rolling drums and waves of pitch-altered vox before the weird howling fell into place in more of a song structure. After the first song, singer/drummer Owain Lawson asked "does anything sound really fucked up? 'Cause we didn't have time to do a soundcheck or nothin'." I was pretty unclear here — the band's basic sonic territory seemed to be pretty fucked up to begin with.

The trio gave a sense of filling their physical space — while bassist Brian Mitchell (a dead ringer for Meathead-era Rob Reiner) stayed fairly rooted, guitarist Kyle Fostner felt free to range out into the crowd. And all the while Lawson, wearing a wireless hands-free mic, wobbled like a weeble on his drum stool while yelping out largely incomprehensible lyrics. Neither quite all-the-way spazzy nor noisy, the music oozed around enough to be hard to pin down and generally moving at a quick-enough clip to keep it interesting. There was a dark undertone to the music, but also a goofy spiritedness throughout — it all added up to sort of a Saturday morning cartoon version of a bad trip. Although there were a couple bursts of aimless meandering when the band didn't find their groove, on the whole this was entertaining stuff.⁶

Listen to a track from this set here.

1:00 A.M.: Action Makes @ Comfort Zone

And then, in the rock'n'roll spirit of things, I guess, I broke all my rules and stayed put to hang out with friends and enjoy a band that I had seen before. Action Makes had been kick-ass good at the Hoa Hoa's album release party in December and suddenly it seemed like an eminently good idea to bask in their heavy vibe. Which worked out well, because Action Makes are one of the most exciting live acts in the city right now — not so much, perhaps in their songs or musicianship, but just in the energy they generate, and how their music puts a bit of an evil charge in your spine. Sorta like in those social hygiene films from the 50's warning of the dangers of rock and roll, it didn't take long before audience members were making their way up to the front of the stage to dance — and, in one case, to vogue even, which was unexpected — as if the music was appealing to some base instinct.

At first, Clint Rogerson's vox were almost completely buried in the mix, but that sorted itself after a few songs, and the band powered through nine numbers with a Stooge-y amphetamine propulsive blast. And just like the last time, the set ended with drummer Ryan Rothwell coming over his kit — good-night CMW, there will be no encore.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Although I'd been at it for hours, I must admit I felt like a bit of a slacker not to keep going. There were actually venues with sets going on til three a.m., but that was it for me. Stood around for a bit afterwards in that "so where are we going now" mode as the room cleared out. We got swept upstairs and did step into the Silver Dollar for a couple minutes, where Give Us The Daggers were on stage. But once I had stopped moving forward, I hit the wall quickly, and got out to make my way home.

---

^* 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 The band seems to have something of a flexible membership — their myspace lists five (or possibly nine) members.

² And indeed, their name refers to the specifically droney tuning that Lou Reed favoured in the Velvets' early days. For the curious, Reed's "ostrich tuning" was D-D-D-D-d-d.

³ And, yeah, [sic] throughout on their name, something which probably doesn't help endear the band to me.

⁴ Interestingly, this is only one facet of LeGrow's musical work — she's also a member of local rock combo Whale Tooth.

⁵ My enjoyment did sag a bit when some drunken dudes, pitcher in hand, came and plunked themselves on the floor near me, feeling free to chat amongst themselves and sing along, as if they were in their living room.

⁶ If you want to investigate further, the band are offering a "tape" for download at the Free Music Archive.

Gig: CMW 2010 (Friday)

CMW 2010^* (Friday) (feat. Julie Fader, Brian Borcherdt, Giant Hand, Gemma Ray, Dexateens, Sydney Wayser, Phantogram, Fergus Brown)

Friday, March 12, 2010.

8 P.M.-ish: Julie Fader @ The Music Gallery

Leaving the in-store at Criminal Records there was a cold wind to go with the persistent rain. Looking for the quickest path to shelter, trudged up to The Music Gallery with young T. to catch what we could of Julie Fader's set. This was one of those "limited wristband" events functioning more as a regular gig (for Wintersleep side-project Postdata) than a showcase, so we were mildly worried about getting in, especially as by the time we got there a warm and dry sanctuary was much needed. But the place wasn't too crowded — perhaps more of a "we're coming for the headliner" mentality was keeping the early numbers down, so we slipped in and managed to catch about five songs or so of Fader's set.

Long known for her support work to other artists (including Great Lake Swimmers and Chad VanGaalen), I'd been digging Fader's solo debut Outside In and waiting on a chance to see her playing some of this stuff live. This was certainly the right environment for it, with the loosely-packed crowd mostly sitting on the floor taking the drum-less combo in under the churchy arches. A stripped-down sort of sound, but rich in little touches from Randy Lee (violin) and Graham Walsh of Holy Fuck — Fader's producer and former band-mate. It was a pleasant surprise — but not a big shock — when "my friend Tony" that Fader called up to the stage was Tony Dekker of Great Lake Swimmers, adding some backing vox in a reversal of the situation I've probably seen Fader most frequently in. Pleasantly low-key and lovely — I could definitely stand to see a full set, and hope we get another chance in such fitting surroundings.

8:30 P.M.: Brian Borcherdt @ The Music Gallery

With time to kill before the next stop on the itinerary, stuck around to catch the first few songs from Brian Borcherdt, with the Holy Fuck-er working his singer/songwriter side. Although some of the songs — including the Kim Mitchell cover — were familiar to me from his solo set at the ALL CAPS Island show, what I heard this time 'round was a bit more filled-out and engaging, especially when he was joined by Walsh and Lee. Perhaps his solo stuff was growing on me — however, after a handful of songs it was back out into the rain to trudge down toward Spadina and King.

9 P.M.: Giant Hand @ Global Village Backpackers

A large festival sometimes plunks venues in somewhat unlikely places, so I guess it's not on the face of it absurd for acts to be playing at a "Hostel Party" stage. But there was a sort of weird disconnect for that to be the site of an acoustic singer-songwriter gathering. Even as I headed in to the venue, which turned out to be in the lounge/poolroom part of the hostel, I was worried that I was going to be feeling like an old man surrounded by dreadlocked/drunken young backpackers, busily out seeing the world. And, indeed, the long wall of the narrow room where the musicians were playing was adorned by a gigantic Jägermeister banner, and there were clearly more people using the space in its usual function than there were wristband-wearing masses out hoping for peace and quiet to hear the music. But, still, I've been in worse. Set off to one side in a semi-separate room, the "stage" was at least somewhat unique, a loosely-demarcated zone at one end of the room with a red wall behind the performers covered with a grid of white xmas tree-type lights.

"Hey everyone, I heard it's karaoke night, so I'm going to sing some Giant Hand songs," said Ottawa's Kirk Ramsay, who operates as a solo performer under that bandonym. Blessed with an attention-grabbing back story¹ and, more importantly, a solid debut album, Ramsay has been building up an audience through the time-tested tools of good tunes and DIY persistence. A guy and a guitar, the songs often unwound as two-chord vamps behind his quavery voice, all serving his persistent imagery of monsters and caves and dark places, decidedly non-metaphysical tussles with God and Satan, and an overwhelming fear of death and/or being forgotten.

Besides some of those Daniel Johnston songs that sent him off on this whole adventure, the artist that Ramsay brings most to mind is cartoonist Charles Burns — and not only in how the spareness of his music is along the same lines of Burns' stark monochromism. "Books", a new song, mines the same childhood fascination and dread as Big Baby while Ramsay's treatment of mythic themes — an extended metaphor connecting monster-dread to existential terror — aren't too far from, say, Black Hole.

The musical simplicity — at some level his songs might sound like stripped-down variations on America's "A Horse With No Name" — is an effective companion rather than a limitation, but it was also good to see him reaching a little further, using a looping pedal and some basic beats on his final track. It's worth noting that a third of his set was stuff not on his album, suggesting that he's writing new songs and advancing quickly.² An interesting guy, and worth checking out.

Listen to a track from this set here.

10 P.M.: Gemma Ray @ The Silver Dollar Room

With nothing strongly suggesting itself to me in this slot, I went with Bobby B.'s recommendation to check out Gemma Ray, over from London, and a completely unknown entity to me. Playing solo with electric guitar, the set started with a less-than-rosy opening, the artiste informing us, "my voice is completely gone, so I'll try and do one or two songs... maybe three". As she played her opening track, it was apparent she was struggling to reach the higher notes. But, though sounding somewhat froggy, she did work around it, dropping into a lower register and even a dramatic whisper at a couple points.³ And too bad, as it sounded like she was on to something interesting here — a pop sensibility shining through noirish twangy tunes. Visibly disappointed with losing her voice, Gemma Ray took shelter in — or, perhaps, revenge on — the music, turning in a roiling set that reflected her unhappy state. The heart of what she did play — and in the end, by stretching out her songs, we got something close to a full set's worth — was a series of covers⁴, starting with Etta James' "I'd Rather Go Blind".

It turned out that knife tucked into her guitar wasn't just for protection, as by the second tune she pulled it out to saw on the strings, adding loops of their howls to the songs. She was, in fact, equipped with a solid stock of pedals and gear to complicate her sound, including an entire second set at a second mic to add effects to her voice. The peak of it all was the finale, a run through Mudhoney's "Touch Me, I'm Sick" stretching out past seven minutes, the song turning into a deconstructed blues dirge over a drum loop. Obviously venting some frustration, the song ended in a haze of backwards vocal loops slipping into noise, with some gear getting pulled down along the way. I definitely felt for her, fighting her way through the set — and if there was an element of disappointment in that it only hinted at what she is capable of, it was tempered by being witness to a raw experience, and hopefully a set like no other for Gemma Ray. Let's hope she comes back this way to demonstrate her full range.

11:30 P.M.: Dexateens @ Comfort Zone

With the set ending early, I had a bit of extra time on my hands to play with. Looking at the schedule, I decided to switch things up and make a longer run afield, heading over to The Drake to check out Vancouver's Brasstronaut. So, hop on the streetcar, change at Queen and poke along westward to get there in decent time to catch the start of the set... only to be told at the door that the room is at capacity. Ugh. Well — no way I was going to wait around for people to leave, and there wasn't anything immediately scintillating nearby, so, minutes after arriving, I was retracting my steps almost right back to where I started.

Fortunately, Comfort Zone was starting its sets on the half-hour, so I got back there just in time as Dexateens were about to start. Hailing from Tuscaloosa, Alabama, the five-piece featured a three-guitar attack, but delivered with ferocious energy that suggested their roots included as much punk as Southern Rock. As a live unit, the focus was on the energy and rockin' more than the words and songcraft — they might be penning anthemic, well-spoken lyrics, but in this environment it was all full-speed ahead, no-bullshit rock, snarling guitars played with a grin.

The bandmembers were certainly wearing their roots on their sleeve, and everything about them said, "damn right I'm Southern", whether it was their overalls or switching gears mid-song for a mini hoedown. Bracing stuff, and though I didn't stick around for the end of the set, it gave me my second wind to keep going on the night.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Midnight: Sydney Wayser @ Global Village Backpackers

With my rock quota fulfilled, made my way back down to the hostel to try my luck there again. A few hours on, the ambiance of the place was, unsurprisingly, boozier and blearier — less crowded, but those that remained were louder and drunker. Taking a gamble on an act whose myspace samples sounded a cut more interesting than anything else going on, hit the venue a bit late as Sydney Wayser was still getting ready to play. I must admit I was a bit worried about the singer/songwriter fungibility problem⁵ but the point of the wristband was to push myself a little — generically this was a sort of music that I have an interest in, but that I'd usually not go out and see.

New York-based Wayser — dressed in what appeared to be pyjamas — turned out to have a warm, inviting voice. Playing mostly on keybs, she was joined by Adam Tressler on guitar and backing vox, but the sound was generally spare throughout — "I keep it on the quiet side, usually," she commented to the sound man as she turned her volume down between songs. Showing some variety, she switched over to ukulele to sing an adequately dreamy song inspired by Before Sunrise, and on the next one added some glockenspiel (which required a jury-rigged sound setup, the mic dangling over the back of a chair). Singing over the background chatter and the occasional loud shout from the players at the pool table in the next room, it was generally a pleasant set. Perhaps not necessarily at the thin end of the fungibility bell curve, but solidly entertaining. Plus, Wayser was engaging enough on stage, getting some of her personality across, to make it a worthy live set.

1 A.M.: Phantogram @ Supermarket

Wayser's set ran a little long, and I was enjoying enough that I didn't feel any need to bolt before the end. As such, when my made my way down to a crowded Supermarket — where apparently no-one was working at the door, for I walked in without anybody wanting to see my wristband — to check out the next band on my "hey, why not?" list, their set was already underway. This was Phantogram, from Saratoga Springs NY — another band I knew pretty much nothing about, but had been twigged to by something on their myspace, or perhaps a stray mention I'd caught somewhere.

Whatever it was that's sent me this way, oh goodness but I wasn't feeling it. The duo were playing a synth-heavy kind of downer dance-pop, and it just wasn't something I was in the mood for. To be sure, I stuck around for about two-and-a-half songs before I bailed, walking over to the convenience store for some orange juice. On this night, electrolytes > Phantogram, though I am willing to affirm that might just have been my mood at the moment.

2 A.M.: Fergus Brown @ Rivoli

But I did feel like I had one more set in me, so I headed down Spadina one last time to Queen, and popped into the Rivoli. By this time of the night, it was pretty quiet in what had been a night-long Australian showcase. Many of the remaining patrons looked like they might have been playing earlier and were now mostly hanging at the back and enjoying the facility's extended licence hours. Which is to say there wasn't a large crowd on hand that looked like they'd dropped in just to hear Fergus Brown play. But Brown took to the stage as if intent to gain a few converts regardless. Starting off backed only with bass, he was joined by various members of fellow Australians Dead Letter Chorus, who were also from Sydney, Australia, but whom he met in an airport in Nova Scotia. The addition of a rhythm section and Gabrielle Huber's harmony vox brought "Nerds in Love" to life, but the songs done solo (such as "Little Pinks or Blues") worked nicely as well.

Once again, there was that problem of singer-songwriter fungibility, as I sat listening for that one little thing that separated this guy from the horde of guys doing music like this. And I actually found it, to some extent, with "John, She Was Never Only Dancing", a sly sort of much-after-the-fact answer song with some crafty references ("She talks like Susie Sontag / she walks like Siouxsie Sioux"). And though a couple of his songs sort of felt a bit too much like typical fare, on the whole Brown pulled it off with an undercurrent of slightly-subversive/slightly goofy wit.

Listen to a track from this set here.

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^* 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 In short: man watches The Devil and Daniel Johnston, decides to get a guitar and make up a few songs, and within months is playing shows.

² I'm guessing some of these will surface on a new EP being recorded with Rolf Klausener of the Acorn.

³ It would turn out that what she referred to as her "man voice" wasn't just a product of a bad cold, but the onset of laryngitis, which would cause her to cancel her other CMW appearance.

⁴ She has apparently just recorded an album's worth of covers, charmingly titled It's a Shame About Gemma Ray.

⁵ Which is to say, I guess, that like light-hitting left fielders that cover a lot of ground, there's a massive oversupply of singer-songwriters, and it's hard sometimes to work up the enthusiasm to try and separate the merely good-enough from the excitingly engaging ones. When a loud rock band isn't quite doing anything original, they can still captivate with volume and performance, but when it's more on the words and performer, there's a lot less to hide behind — so, one might conclude, other things being equal, a marginally interesting singer-songwriter is less entertaining than a marginally interesting band rocking out.