Recording: Heavy Cream

Artist: Heavy Cream

Song: Watusi

Recorded at Comfort Zone (NXNE 2011), June 17, 2011.

Heavy Cream - Watusi

My notes for this set 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.

Recording: Heavy Cream

Artist: Heavy Cream

Song: I Know This^*

Recorded at Wrongbar (CMW 2011), March 12, 2011.

Heavy Cream - I Know This

My notes for this set can be found here.

^* I have also seen this song listed online under the less prosaic title "Boner Party USA"

Festival: CMW 2011 (Saturday)

CMW 2011^* (Saturday) (feat. Fred Penner / Mockingbird Wish Me Luck / The Pack a.d. / Heavy Cream / Ty Segall / Teenanger / White Wires)

Friday, March 11, 2011.

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

8:30 P.M.: Fred Penner @ The Drake Underground

Well, this was a bit of an outlier on the schedule, venue-wise but even moreso in terms of sentiment. When I first saw the name "Fred Penner" on the schedule I laughed, and then I double-checked that it wasn't an ironically-named pop-punk band, then I marked it in my maybe pile.

And then I showed up to see him. Fred Penner and I have a history, though perhaps not the one that you'd expect. I am, in fact, just a titch past the age to have been mesmerized by the original run of Fred Penner's Place on the CBC. I remember it being on, but with typical kid acumen I dismissed anything I was too grown up for. However, years later, on the day I matriculated from university, Penner was the recipient of an honourary degree — so I've always felt a special affinity for him as a fellow member of my graduating class.¹

And it looked like the bulk of the crowd at The Drake also had some long-standing ties to Penner. If you do the math, you'll note that a wide swath of today's hipsters, bloggers and music writers probably did grow up with Fred Penner, so when that familiar theme music chimed out of the speakers there were a lot of smiles about.

"Imagine a log that I just crawled through," said Fred Penner as he stepped on to the stage at the song's end. Wearing a wireless hands-free mic, he told the crowd to stand up straight, clear their throats and sing along. And as he launched into "What a Day", they did without reserve — some things can just cut right past the scaly growths of irony.

Penner was backed by guitarist Paul O'Neill and two backup singers, who would turn out to be his daughters Haley and Kendra. Penner had his acoustic guitar, but mostly relied on his guileless charm. "It's a little different atmosphere than the usual Fred Penner concert," he said, looking out into the crowd in the darkened basement bar. "But the energy is the same and the joy... is the same." There were some slight nods to the grown-up crowd: inspired by Del Barber, who had played before him, Penner declared he wanted to get back to his folkie roots and announced a Pete Seeger song, pausing to chastise the crowd when they didn't cheer in recognition at the name. The topical "Garbage" was followed by another period piece, as "Happy Feet" (presented complete with kazoos) is well-known as a Fred Penner song but in fact comes from the 1930 flick King of Jazz.

After that he paused for storytime, telling the tale of daughter Haley's first bike ride, pantomiming it while guitarist O'Neill added sound effects. The audience was duly prevailed upon to raise their hands and pledge they'd never ride their bikes with their eyes closed. And as that became the lead-in to "Proud", I looked around at the people clapping along, thinking to myself, "yeah, this is shtick-y as all git-out, but so what?" Even I felt some of the emotional resonance at this stuff.

Speaking of shtick, "Company Coming" paused for some shenanigans from O'Neill, trying to work in the intro to "Stairway to Heaven" to impress any industry types in the crowd before the big finale. For "Sandwiches" ("our all-time second most requested song"), Penner pulled up a couple young women from the audience to sing along and play tambourine — they looked somewhere beyond delighted. And then it was no surprise as the set closed with "The Cat Came Back" and an overpowering wave of unabashedly giddy joy in the room as Penner segued into a mini-medley of "Hit the Road Jack" and "Crabbuckit", complete with cat-appropriate lyrics. As I made my way out, there was already a queue forming at his merch table with people looking eager to take Penner up on his offer of saying hello or getting a picture. This is the stuff that memories are made of.

Listen to a track from this set here.

9:30 P.M.: Mockingbird Wish Me Luck @ Wrongbar

I have much less to say about Kitchener quartet Mockingbird Wish Me Luck. To be honest, I wasn't expecting to catch 'em at all, but Wrongbar was running its sets on the half hour, and as I strolled in they were taking the stage. My pre-festival homework had told me that this wasn't particularly my thing, too, but I knew I was going to be camping out for the night at Wrongbar, and I knew it was going to get busy, so I reckoned to beat the rush.

Featuring an amped-up version of a Heartland college-rock sound, the most distinctive thing here was the fact that the band had not one, but two hoarse-voiced singers. That's a "punk" signifier that doesn't do much for me — in fact, my notes describes their vocal stylings as "Hrarrarrar Huurgh!". That aside, the sort of songs the band were playing reminded more of, say, Buffalo Tom more than anything. Which is a good starting point. But I just couldn't get past the vocal style.

The band's efforts weren't helped when a kick drum pedal died on them and the set kinda skidded to a halt for a couple minutes. I'd been taking this in from up in front of the stage, but after that I went and found a place to sit down and kinda tuned the rest out.

10:30 P.M.: The Pack a.d. @ Wrongbar

The room was filling nicely as this Vancouver duo — Drummer Maya Miller and guitarist/vocalist Becky Black — took the stage. Launching what would be a recurring feature through the night, there were some feedback issues and monitor trouble as the set started. Despite having trouble hearing each other, the pair generated some convincing scuzz-blooze.

Black is a howler and Miller drums with hair-flinging intensity. She was also an engaging ham and a charming banterer between songs. In a between-album phase, the pair were no longer entirely focused on 2010's we kill computers, but were only mixing in a handful from what would become their highly-praised Unpersons, though a few like "Hear Me Out" got an airing. The music is mostly a straight-ahead garage-punk version of the blues, but they did take the foot off the gas pedal a bit after a few songs, for relatively more sedate stuff like "Oh Be Joyful".

Being associated with the blues idiom can be a bit of a stylistic trap, and being a guitar-drums duo can certainly make for certain easy comparisons, but it didn't feel like the band was unduly limiting themselves. The bluesy-ness was more pronounced on some of the older stuff like "Don't Have To Like You", with Black forcefully mumbling the lyrics, but for the newer stuff, it's too reductive to play the White Stripes card — at least live, the band's vibe is more garage-punk splatter, with definite pop potential on songs like "Deer" and especially "Crazy".

They certainly had an evil-invokin' rock'n'roll hoodoo thang going on — especially for one woman in the crowd, who danced in front of the stage for most of the set, then suddenly took to kicking one of the barstools a few times. And during the last song, she picked it up, hurling it across the dancefloor. Good fun 'til somebody loses an eye.

Listen to a track from this set here.

11:40 P.M.: Heavy Cream @ Wrongbar

The sound issues that had plagued the last band were multiplied for Heavy Cream. After a dragged-out turnover, the Nashville four-piece welcomed the crowd with a steady loud hum behind them and had to pause following their first song for a secondary line check. After that, the momentum was never quite there, and the sound was never quite right — for most of the set it was stuck as a dull loud roar punctuated by feedback yelps.

Despite that, the band plunged through and it did get a little better as the set went along. One gets the impression that they've probably played their fair share of basements and dive bars, given their inclination to just make do and plunge onward. It took a little effort to extrapolate, but what was going on underneath the sound problems was definitely good stuff. Catchy poppy punx with a dynamic frontwoman in Jessica McFarland, even with a truncated set stopping short of twenty minutes — three of them spent adjusting things — the band managed to tear off nine songs. No fault of their own that this didn't feel entirely satisfyin', and I marked the band down as one to revisit.²

Listen to a track from this set here.

12:20 A.M.: Ty Segall @ Wrongbar

The joint was now at maximum crammage, that state where it's almost impossible to move or breathe when you're anywhere close to the stage. I was here mostly out of curiousity, but there was obviously a rabid local fanbase for Ty Segall. The prolific Bay Area rocker took the stage, looking every inch like an All-American, a fair-haired cornfed surfer golden boy who could muster a plucky grin in the face of adversity. Which is to say, he didn't look entirely the part of an up-from-the-underground rocker.

His music, too, was apparently not what it seemed to be. Sounding, to my ears, like scrappy DIY rock jams, it was received by the crowd as pure, unadulterated punk. I never really understand how people collectively decide that some artists are meant to be moshed to, so even if Segall's music doesn't immediately register as, y'know, especially mosh-y, the crowd was quickly roiling along. I guess it's some combination of the fact that he plays rough'n'ready rock, delivered with punk-ish intensity and that a certain audience has adopted him. Whatever the recipe, the outcome was barely-controlled chaos, both on the stage and in the crowd.

Playing in a quartet, Segall was backed by second guit, plus bass and drums. With a pretty hefty catalogue of songs to pick from, Segall careened through a dozen or so songs in his thirty-five minutes. Thank goodness that mid-set he had to cadge a spare guitar, allowing a moment's respite. I'm normally one to hold my position, and while I wasn't even in the thick of things, the crowd was so tightly packed, pulsating around me, that eventually I had to bail and find a bit of personal space. Even if it was a good-humoured and amiable crowd — I got a friendly "sorry" from a guy whose arm had bounced off me — it really was more than I liked. Working my way around, I eventually ended up facing perpendicular to the stage, where it was a little calmer.

On the whole, it was good stuff, albeit more of an experience than musically excellent. And like life, I suppose, you can celebrate that you endured it.

Listen to a track from this set here.

1:30 A.M.: Teenanger @ Wrongbar

With a lot of people heading out after Ty Segall, there was a much more manageable crowd left over, though there were some shove-y people pushing their way to the front as Teenanger started. By this point of the night, I was well content to stand behind them. Interestingly, in my mind, Teenager's sound — which can be summarized as "throbbing bad vibes" — was well-suited to the late hour and was exactly the sort of thing that should merit the sort of crowd action Ty Segall received. It's strange to me that people come out for the out-of-town hype and split before the local band that's working at just as high a level.

For their set, the band was focusing on their newer (and then-unreleased) material, some of which will just now be seeing the light of say on their Frights LP³. There's some fabulous songs there, like "S.L.W.". The set included an anti-shout-out to Rob Ford, and some songs (like "Tired of You") burst by in whitehot minute-long flashes while a couple further on in the set stretched things out — including the set-closing rendition of "Frights" that pulled back the velocity to good effect. Keep an eye on Teenanger in 2012, folks.

Listen to a track from this set here.

2:30 A.M.: The White Wires @ Wrongbar

As his bandmates set up around him, bassist Luke Martin was busy with a bit of DIY instrument upkeep, daubing whiteout dots on the frets of his instrument's neck. Such roughshod charm co-exists with precise rock'n'roll songcraft in the band's music. Launching with statement of purpose "Pogo 'Til I Puke Tonight", The White Wires are easy-to-grasp in the best way — when I first saw 'em, I noted they have "as much Eddie Cochrane as Young Canadians in their lineage" and that seems about right.

Playing with the wobbly certainty of the last band up (and therefore being the ones partying for the longest while waiting), singer/guitarist Ian Manhire uses breakneck speed to elevate his songs on the evergreen topics of rockin', partyin' and lookin' for a little love. Zipping by in something of a blur, there was a sort of soft ending to the set — after efficiently cranking out ten songs in twenty-five minutes, the band thought they were done. Told they had ten more minutes, they shrugged and went back at it for three more tunes. Things started pulling apart at the seams a bit toward the end, but it felt about right. White Wires are pretty great live band, and this was a good way to wrap up the festival.

Afterwards, the remnants of the crowd lurched out into the night. With the time change it was now four a.m., which made it feel even more like the end of a full day's night of rock'n'roll.

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 This was, in fact, by far the most memorable part of my convocation, as after receiving his degree, Penner pulled out his guitar and did a couple songs reminding us all that we could be whatever we wanted to be.

Fred Penner should be on hand to greet undergrads on their first day of university telling them that.

² And in fact, I did so at the next available opportunity.

³ Coming out on January 24 on Telephone Explosion records, there are a lot of folks salivating for this record — some scene-watchers even venturing to predict that this might push the band up into the wider consciousness.

Currente calamo: NXNE 2011 (Friday)

NXNE 2011 (Friday, June 17, 2011)

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 that'll include all the details on the in-store show and ambivalent feelings of getting to skip past the lineup.

8 p.m.: Persian Rugs @ Silver Dollar

Broke my informal embargo on bands that I've seen before to check in with Persian Rugs. 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. It was pretty quiet in the room as the band took the stage, but it did fill in some as the set progressed. Drummer Matt Rubba faced the situation with humour, calling out the band's name and inventing a fictional new hometown after almost every song.

Starting off with some fuzzy, jangly fun, the band exhibited a very cardigan sort of sound, just like the light blue one singer/guitarist Ian Jackson was wearing. The musical maturity that I was looking for after the last time I saw 'em was certainly on offer, and it felt like there was more coherence to the band's sound, with the songs now feeling more like they're facets of the same general underlying shape. Hopefully the band has a few more songs ahead of them of the calibre of "Phone Call From the Lake" and "Always All", and in the meantime, seeing them live feels like time well-spent with some Sarah Records band you hadn't previously discovered.

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

Ducked downstairs after to check out this NYC quartet with a scrappy, somewhat-retro garage sound. The first song had 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". That tendency in their sound was faced head-on — and perhaps a bit too on the nose — with a Strokes cover.

This was all enjoyable enough, though when the band left the retro-y sensibility behind, 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 it's nowhere near as compelling. In the long run, this is a band that needs 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 somehow or another they've got a bit of that palpable buzz around them, as the area in front of the stage was suddenly filled with photographers. And when they started playing, one could see the immediately charming elements in play, including reverb and "Be My Baby" drumbeats. The following songs were a bit less overtly forged from that template.

This was good enough, but I couldn't help comparing the band in my mind to Chains of Love, who I'd seen the night before — a comparison that showed The Vandelles' limitations. CoL dove more forcefully into the pool of their musical influences and went deeper into their shtick, going full out in their stage appearance. meanwhile, Vandelles vocalist Jason (no last name given) played in sandals and cut-off jeans. 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 JAMC velocity, but it felt too much like these were all ill-fitting clothing draped over songs that really didn't invest themselves fully in the sensibility they were playing at.

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

Went to this on the thinnest possible 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". The Groovy Religion connection interested me as much as the very notion of a band mixing together musicians from different generations, and it turned out that it was no less than 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 displayed as a founder of Elvis Mondays — an essential community-building role in T.O.'s 80's indie scene. 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 delivering his lines while staring down the crowd. There were also a few points where things were a bit out of sync and the drums skipped a beat, but on the whole, this was a rewarding bit of no wave-ish menace.

Listen to a track from this set here.

12 a.m.: OFF! @ The Horseshoe

With a plethora of good bands playing at midnight, I figured I'd be heading 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 me some once in a while, and this new group of veterans has been building a ferocious rep.

The band is fronted by Keith Morris — original Black Flag vocalist and founder of the Circle Jerks — and he's certainly the focus on stage. Even with a slim catalogue of songs to their name, the band had no problem filling out their timeslot when Morris's 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 show that had been flung onto the stage.

When the songs started, he gave a theatrical performance while flanked by Steven Shane McDonald (bass, famed for his work in Redd Kross) who kept stoically still in a wide-legged stance and guitarist Dimitri Coats who bounced around a little more. Each blast of music was accompanied by a fairly frothing moshpit. Both parts of the performance — banter and music — were equally entertaining and just standing back in the crowd watching this drained me. Great fun.

Listen to a couple quick songs from this set here.

1 a.m.: Heavy Cream @ Comfort Zone

Another band that I'd seen before, but when I'd first seen this bouncy Tennessee crew 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. Sort of like a meeting of the minds between Be Your Own Pet and The Ramones, this was a constant blur of energy, especially from vocalist Jessica, who bounced and shimmied without missing a note. Even if the songs might sound 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.

2 a.m.: No Joy @ Silver Dollar

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" from the drummer that isn't there on the album.

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, and there was certainly a bit of Sonic Youth in the band's music. They weren't much for banter or crowd interaction, coming and leaving the stage without saying a word. Regardless, this made a solid impact on me.

Listen to a track from this set here.

Currente calamo: CMW 2011 (Saturday)

CMW 2011 (Saturday)^*

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.

4 p.m.: Zoobombs @ Bait Shop

This daytime show was at a skateboard shop, a very cool old warehouse-y space with the band set up on a platform above a half-pipe. The crowd was both below them in the flat bottom of the half-pipe and above in the overlooking loft. A good environment for the gonzo apeshit rock'n'roll that Japan's Zoobombs bring. Trapped half a world away at a time of grave crisis in their homeland, the band rocked to ease their broken hearts. It'd been a couple years since I'd seen 'em and I'd forgotten a little how much energy and craziness singer/guitarist Don Matsuo puts into it, spinning his guitar around, climbing the walls, mugging for the cameras, all while unleashing a nonstop heavy attack. Absolute fun.

5 p.m.: Dinosaur Bones @ Bait Shop

"Fuck you for making us play after the Zoobombs," joked Dino Bones vocalist Ben Fox, knowing there was no way they could duplicate the intensity that had come before them. Instead, the competed on their own terms with their more anthemic approach. It had been nearly a couple years since I'd seen these guys, too. They were touted as being on the cusp of bigger things even back then, and now, with a new album just out, it looks like their moment may be here. One can see why, with Fox's reach-the-rafters projection and a musical approach that might be summed up as "active brooding". Not entirely my thing, though they do have a couple winning songs. And bassist Branko Scekic is still no slouch in the climb-up-stuff department wither.

8:30 p.m.: Fred Penner @ Drake Underground

Taking the stage to his old show's theme music (of course), this one was — to put it mildly — a bit of a departure. And one for beloved children's entertainer Penner, too, playing to anything but his usual sort of audience. Accompanied by a guitarist and two of his daughters on backing vocals, Penner packed in a mini variety show in his half-hour, with the songs broken up with a storytime break and a couple skit-like interludes. It was shticky as hell, natch, but as adults we're conditioned to treat anything this completely direct as mere corn. So what? This was also kind of awesome, filled with audience singalongs and ending with his most requested song — I think you could guess what that is.

Listen to a track from this set here.

9:30 p.m.: Mockingbird Wish Me Luck @ Wrongbar

Thought that would occupy me long enough to get to Wrongbar, where I was planning to settle in for the night, before the crowds but after the night's first act. It turned out, however, that the sets were running on the bottom of the hour so I got there as this Kitchener quartet was starting instead of ending. I'm sure there's nothing at all wrong with this combo — musically, they brought to mind, say, a harder-edged Buffalo Tom — but they still rubbed me the wrong way. Chalk that up to a pair of gravel-voiced singers, who invested every syllable with a shouted/growled huurgh hurrgh hurgh. Just not my thing.

10:30 p.m.: The Pack a.d. @ Wrongbar

I've been passingly familiar with this Vancouver-based duo for awhile, but I'd never seen them live. That is, according to multiple sources, where Maya Miller (drums) and Becky Black (guit/vox) really shine. And, in short, that's correct. Bringing their own punk-infused approach to the blues, the best moments here were great fun. Miller is an action hero, with hair flying and sticks ablur, as well as a bit of a ham while posing and chatting between songs. There were a couple spots where if felt like they were restraining themselves a little, but it can't all be white-hot intensity. If it were, the one woman dancing like a maniac right up front might have inflicted more property damage than just drop-kicking and hurling a barstool around.

11:30 p.m.: Heavy Cream @ Wrongbar

I'd done no research on this band, figuring I was going to be here to see 'em regardless, so they turned out to be the pleasant surprise of the night. Even while fighting some massive sound issues, this Nashville crew sent out a salvo of fireball punk bursts. Poppy fun throughout their short set, I'd definitely like to see 'em again when the sound wasn't being sucked into a dull low roar.

12:20 a.m.: Ty Segall @ Wrongbar

I also didn't know a lot about San Francisco's Ty Segall, but the reports of his past visits to the city were pretty glowing. The recorded material that I've heard has more of a psychedelic-pop tinge to it, but live it was all filtered through a punkrock roar and came out all like one intense blast. At least I think it was like that — truth be told, my recall of the music is pretty spotty, as it was all subsumed to the intensity of the experience. By this point, the venue was rammed-beyond-rammed, and the crowd up front was moshing so intently that it would have been dangerous if people weren't packed in shoulder-to-shoulder, making it more like a sort of violent brownian motion. I lasted about two-thirds of the set at the edge of it before fleeing to a mildly less crammed spot. As Av. put it afterward, "a Ty Segall show is a good time you don't remember having."

Listen to a couple tracks from this set here.

1:30 a.m.: Teenanger @ Wrongbar

The crowd thinned out after that, but those who remained just had more room to knock into each other for locals Teenanger. Projecting their throbbing bad vibes out to the crowd with maximum intensity, this again falls somewhat into the realm of "you'll remember the experience more than the songs", but it's a pretty fun ride.

2:30 a.m.: White Wires @ Wrongbar

Wrapping things up to a thinner crowd was Ottawa's White Wires, who play good old-fashioned rock'n'roll with pogo-til-you-puke velocity. Vocalist/guitarist Ian Manhire does a good line in catchy choruses, and this was a satisfyingly bouncy way to end the night, giving me a burst of energy to mask my last-night exhaustion.

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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 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.