Sunday Playlist #6: Get Scrappy!!
Magic Cheezies - two unknown songs
Chang-A-Lang - Throw Away Litres
Mutating Meltdown - Raised By A Pack Of TVs
You can always click the tags below to see what I originally wrote about the shows these songs came from.
Artist: Magic Cheezies
Song: two unknown songs*
Recorded at The Silver Dollar Room, February 27, 2010.
Magic Cheezies - two unknown songsMy notes for this set can be found here.
* Does anyone know the title to these songs? Please leave a comment!
Sun Ra Ra Ra (Magic Cheezies / Queen Licorice / Holy Mount / Ghost Trees)
The Silver Dollar Room. Saturday, February 27, 2010.
Show up early enough for one of Dan Burke's bills at the Silver Dollar and you never quite know what you're going to get. There's something touching1 about the way that he will add a band at the bottom of the bill that has no stylistic ties to the rest of the night — in this case slipping in a band of mostly soft edges in a night otherwise filled with hardness. This would turn out to be the case with Ghost Trees2, mainly a vehicle for the songs of singer/guitarist Jamie Steep, backed by a pair of friends on keyb and an 80's drum machine. The latter wasn't used for cranking out programmed rhythms; rather, sitting on top on a floor tom, it was "played" live by Chris B., sitting behind the kit. Its tones — tinny and mechanical but still slightly off-kilter — lent the songs sort of a minimalist C86 type of sound. You know those albums where there are bonus tracks of demos of the album cuts, stripped down, with a drum machine in the background? And how sometimes those demos have a raw, honest appeal that goes missing somewhere when the songs get fully fleshed out? Listening to Ghost Trees playing live was like listening to that. One new song came out a little on the rough and under-rehearsed side, but it was mildly endearing and fit in with the band's gently shambolic kind of vibe. The tunes weren't all killer, but if nothing else, the band is working out a rigourous and distinctive sound which could turn into something quite interesting.
Listen to a track from this set here.
That would be the last time on this night that terms like "quiet, understated charm" would be floating through my head. As a passel of young men started lugging an enormous amount of gear on stage, the place started to fill with a fairly young crowd. And soon that gear — giant bass cabinet and immaculate new-looking Marshall amps — was being put to the test by Oshawa's Holy Mount. Leading off with "Wild Weather", rising out of a couple minutes of guitar noise before a sluggishly churning beat and another woozy guitar line took over. As if I'd just chugged some codeine-laced cough syrup, everything suddenly got slow and heavy. Playing only five songs in their half-hour set (a couple of which stretched out to about the seven-minute mark) the band definitely had some heaviosity going on. Outside my usual musical sweet spot, to be sure, but to the extent I can get behind anything that falls into the wider category of "metal", I'm more likely to be behind something that's appending a prefix like "sludge" to it.3 The vocals were... serviceable, but the band was more about imparting a vaguely psychedelic molasses pour of a time. Again, probably just my particular taste talking, but I actually enjoyed it the most when the tempos were at their most sluggish. On the whole, I liked this more than I thought I might have at the outset, though this probably isn't the sort of thing I wouldn't go out of my way to see.4
Filed more definitively under "wouldn't go out of my way to see" would be Queen Licorice, up next, and sharing the use of all that aforementioned fancy gear. The band's complement included, besides the musicians, a "Spiritual Guru", and I guess this was the skull-mask-clad bloke handing out licorice to the audience as the band finished setting up. Also loud, I must confess that this band didn't do anything for me — they seemed to be aiming more for something like "radio ready modern rock".5 When I'm taking in opening bands, I normally make a point of trying to remain attentive and give them a fair shake, but by a couple songs into this set I'd had enough, and moved over from in front of the stage to find a spot in the raised seating area, leaving more room for the not-insubstantial number of supporters that were in the room — obviously this was to their taste. A couple songs further along, even sitting and watching seemed like too much and I had pulled out my newspaper, keeping myself occupied with that. Other problems notwithstanding, the band arguably overstayed their welcome, with their set lasting for over forty-five minutes. Of course, a long set is always longer when it's not your thing. Plenty of time to look at the headlines and ponder one's mortality.6
But if life is brief, a set by Magic Cheezies is quicker. Once all of that gear was cleared off, the stage looked positively spartan as the trio took over, with Heather Curley's guitar hooked up to a peeny Peavy amp. I was won over by their Wavelength 500 appearance, though the band seemed less-than-pleased with themselves on that night, so I wanted to see them again when they were less preoccupied with technical gremlins. Except for their respective snack-related monikers, the band was pretty much the opposite of the one that had preceded them, which I think gave them a little something extra to push against.7
As with the Wavelength show, the set was here and gone in a flash — nine songs in under fifteen minutes, but it felt like about the exact right amount. Once again, Curley led the band in a white-hot clamour, her singing punctuated by arresting yelps and whoops as she generated crunchy, feedback-laced noises from her guitar. The lyrical content is sometimes hard to decipher, but enough phrases slip through ("so sick and tired!", "you make up the words!", "what are you gonna do?") to get their attitude across. Their flow through the set was much more assured this time, with the last squeals of noise from one song still cutting through the room as the count-in for the next song began. There are moments in my life where I want subtlety and nuance and delicacy — but in the opposite-feeling times, Magic Cheezies is exactly the sort of thing I want to hear. Quite superb.
Listen to a couple tracks from this set here.
I was also eager to have another chance to see Sun Ra Ra Ra. Besides wanting another dose of the energy they brought to the stage, the last time I'd caught 'em, they were short a keyboard player, so I did want to see how that affected their sound. The vintage Ace Tone did do a bit to gather together the sonic confusion, and its presence was felt on the opener, which was more of a slow groover. But by and large, the Sun Ra Ra Ra sound is raucous garage spasms, presented with a semi-chaotic stage presence. The vocals — presented with I-drank-acid-and-I'm-pissed-off-about-it scratchy intensity — might be at the far end of the take-it-or-leave it scale for some people, but fit right into the band's ragged gut-punch aesthetic. If the Stooges spent an afternoon huffing turpentine and then decided to bash out some Chuck Berry covers... well, you get the idea. An essential live experience, especially their glossolalian version of "Surfin' Bird", which, in defying description, needs to be seen to be believed. Suffice it to say, SRRR take the song past "creepy", and nestle it right up against "alarming". The finale involved a lot of instrument-swapping with the song in progress, concluding things with the right amount of ragged abandon.
Listen to a track from this set here.
1 Or possibly totally mercenary.
2 Not to be confused with Ghost Bees, Ghostlight, or Ghostkeeper. Or, for that matter, not to be confused with Screaming Trees or Treepeople.
3 I mean, like, yeah, I have some Melvins cassettes stored away in a box somewhere.
4 If this sounds like your cup of tea, the band is offering a newly-recorded EP for free download on their myspace.
5 And, oh — that sentence required some lengthy consideration to keep it mostly out of the realm of making me sound like a pretentious knob. My notepad has some less kind commentary written at the time, including "suitable for bored kids to smoke hash to" — which might actually be looked at more positively by this band than I meant it.
6 The latter thoughts were probably dredged up by the fact that I was sitting across from the Gord Brown mini-plaque affixed to the back of the wall seats. It's a touching thing, worth keeping an eye out for next time you're at the Dollar. It made me ponder at which venue I'd want my engraved memorial, should I suffer an untimely demise.
7 "Thank you to Pearl Jam for that lovely long set," was how Curley put it. And to a certain extent, the lack of appreciation from Queen Licorice's fans was reciprocated — a couple women who had been right up front dancing through QL's set lasted for about one minute into Magic Cheezies before they gave each other a preplexed look and decamped from the room.
Wavelength 500 (night 3) (feat. From Fiction, The Bicycles, Laura Barrett, Magic Cheezies, Young Mother)
Sneaky Dee's. Friday, February 12, 2010.
The third night of the Wavelength Festival returned to the series' spiritual home base, where nearly three-quarters of the Sunday night shows had taken place. Showed up shortly after doors to find a bit of a lineup outside, but it was only a few minutes' wait to get in. Word was, after the fact, that some people showing up later had had a dire time getting in, so I guess I'm glad I was there in good time. Climbing up the stairs, it felt good to be in Sneaky Dee's, just something comforting and right about that space. All the more so with the swirling General Chaos lights feeling like they were back home, too. Like a "regular" Wavelength night, it was a little thin in the early going, even as things got started at about ten to ten.
A five-piece band on stage, with drummer, two saxophonists, bassist, and a guy with a bunch of electronics and a beat-up, old TV, the tube pretty much blown, emitting just a single, failing blob of light on the screen. This was Young Mother, who, on their myspace, pretty much swathe themselves in anonymity, though some searching does indicate that it's the project of one Jesse James Laderoute.1 Commenting, "we're going to play one song, how's that sound?" the band launched into a nearly five-minute introductory segment, with rising saxes and bursts of TV static before a regular bass line and drum rhythm kicked in. Suddenly, there was a bit of a jaunty, dark pop song here, Laderoute singing about being "a million miles away" as the band chugged behind him. And then back to the squall of static and bleating saxes, and the set ended with the speaker of the TV fuzzily spitting out one of those propagandistic messages from the government about "Canada's Economic Action Plan". One song, yes, but a bit more than fifteen minutes overall.
Quite good stuff, reminiscent of the avant-punk music coming out Cleveland in the mid-70's — this band wouldn't sound out of place next to some stuff by the Numbers Band or groups of that ilk. And as I was standing there at Sneaks, the General Chaos visuals roiling behind, a thin crowd up front, and a band working out some unconventional rock moves, I was happily thinking to myself, "this is Wavelength!"
Listen to an excerpt from this set here.
Still a lot of room on the floor as the From Fiction people started settling in (about whom, more anon) and Magic Cheezies took the stage. Shouting out her mic check in about three seconds flat ("Check-check-check! W-w-w-woah ah-hurgh ah-ah-ah! Okay, we're good.") singer/guitarist Heather Curley gave a hint of the conciseness to come. A rough start to the set, the first song going about thirty seconds before Curley waved it off, making some amp adjustments and calling for a do-over. A bit of roughness even after that, with Mark McLean's bass2 dropping in and out a little. By about their third song (which, given their song lengths, was about four minutes along) they were settling in, though from those original sound issues on forward, you could get the sense that the band wasn't entirely happy with how they were sounding. From the floor, though, it was good stuff, and rough edges wear well with this music — fast, brash punk, Kleenex-via-riot grrrl style. Curley led with her buzzsaw guitar and a roll of her eyes, her vox and body language suggesting, "oh, I'm bored with you." The set went nine songs with an average length less than ninety seconds, and if this was the band on an "off" night — though it sure didn't seem that way to me — by the end I was eager to see 'em with all cylinders firing.
And then, an object lesson in how an audience can have an effect on an artist. Right up front, against the stage, there was a small group of young people3 that had clearly come down not to celebrate Wavelength and see a bunch of cool bands, but to come to a From Fiction show — a different sort of conceptual mindset altogether. Looking them over, I was mildly apprehensive that they might be a tad, um, insensitive to the other patrons who were there for the other bands, and talk loudly amongst themselves until their band came on.
Especially in the face of the decidedly delicate creations of Laura Barrett. As Jonny Dovercourt took the stage to introduce her, they were rather boisterous. Again explaining to the crowd that he was substituting for Doc Pickles, one shouted, "I like you! You're awesome!"
"I like the cut of these guys' jibs," said Dovercourt.
Which set them to chanting, "Yeahhhh! Jibs!" — they were a bunch that could be described as 'easy to get to chant'.
"Yes... the future..." Dovercourt half-muttered, gesturing at the group in front of him, not quite keeping a laugh out of his voice, "is right here."
"Jibs!" shouted another, a step behind the conversation.
Getting back on track with the intro, he noted, "this musician plays an amazing instrument called the kalimba..."
And this was immediately take up by the group, shouting "Kalimba!" at each other, as Laura Barrett took the stage. Playing solo to start, she was just hitting the first notes of the intro as one shouted, "more kalimba!".
Much to my surprise, though, the group didn't immediately start talking to each other — they actually paid attention, and when Barrett hit the instrumental break with a flourish, there were again appreciative shouts of "kalimba!". They continued after the song as the rest of the band took the stage, and as Barrett was switching instruments and checking her monitor levels, she reported back to Chantal the sound tech, "all I can hear is these guys saying 'kalimba'."
Playing on this night with a three-piece backing band of Ajay Mehra on banjo, plus the double-duty-doing duo of Randy Lee (violin) and Dana Snell (flute and vox), both of whom'd be back on stage with The Bicycles. In the midst of a string of rather high-profile gigs opening for The Magnetic Fields, the band was in awfully good form, even if mildly discombobulated from facing a crowd probably quite unlike any they'd encountered lately in the soft-seaters.
"Somebody learned a new word today," Barrett commented after the now-obligatory shouts of "kalimba!" at one song's end. Running with it, Mehra commented to the group in front of him, "you know, usually the kalimba goes inside a calabash shell," eliciting some shouts back of "Callllllllllabash!", and "where's the calabash?" but that didn't prove to have as much sticking power. Throughout, Barrett managed to maintain an air of bemusement at this, and in turn, the group were surprisingly into it, clapping along to "Consumption".4
As Lee and Snell departed for the final song, Mehra remained on stage for "Robot Ponies", and in the spirit of the set's oddity, she called to him, "act it out!" and showing off some expert improv chops, he did just that, pantomiming the entire song, with Barrett just able to maintain her vocal momentum without breaking out into laughter. A rather unusual time, all things considered. Goofy as all hell, but fun. I've seen Barrett play in bars before, and sometimes it can be pretty dicey — I've seen her try to play to far worse than this lot. And it even seemed to have an effect back on them — "That was so good!" one of the guys said to his friends after. So I nodded to myself, thinking that maybe these kids are all right.
Listen to a track — played on kalimba! — from this set here.
Or maybe not. It wasn't long into The Bicycles' set that a member of their group had to be pulled back from getting into a scrap with one of their neighbours, which was defused before it could boil over, but certainly left some bad blood between different groups of people at the front of the stage.5 What precisely was going down I do not know, but it was an odd incident for a band that is perhaps as incendiary as a nice cup of chamomile tea.
It did, however, give the band a chance to make a lot of jokes about how fighting doesn't lead to anything good, and will just cause your band to break up. For this was, indeed, a reunion show, the band having played their last gig nearly a year ago at least year's CMW. Not back in the murky depths of time, I suppose, but I missed the band's heady mix of pop hooks crammed into lightning-quick songs. In more than just a reunion, Randy Lee — who had parted ways with the band as a full-time member several years ago — was back, playing bass for the bulk of the set.6 Otherwise, Matt Beckett has added a moustache, but not too much has changed in the past year.
The band was fairly well-rehearsed, perhaps playing a bit more deliberately than in their prime. Some songs like "Gotta Get Out" were still a giddy rush, and there were a couple missed notes here and there, but on the whole, a very strong set. The first part leaned more strongly from their debut (2006's The Good The Band and The Cuddly), but eased more into its follow-up ('08's Oh No, It's Love) as things moved along. Fourteen songs in a forty minute set covered most of their catalogue's highlights bouncing along in a giddy haze. Whether this is a one-time reunion or not, the band will be missed, but as the song suggests, I know we have to be apart.
Listen to a track from this set here.
And then a bit of a turn-over. As a whole bunch of people were quickly jockeying for positions right up close to see From Fiction, I was among the numbers making their way against the flow. Partially just out of comity, I suppose — I'd gotten to be right up front for the bands I'd most wanted to see, so now best to leave room for someone who was there for From Fiction. Because frankly, I was not. Not my thing, simply put. The only time I had ever seen them play live was at a show where they were quite incongruously slotted as the openers for Wilco at Kool Haus back in aught-and-three, and it just didn't work for me, though even after that I gave their album a spin just to be sure and it wasn't anything I wanted to hear twice. Their not-quite-shouty, math-y stop-start-spasm version of guitar rock has never done anything for me, so this was a one reunion — the band broke up '06 — that I had no emotional investment in.
Taking the stage to Peaches & Herb's "Reunited", the four members of gathered together for a bro-hug before strapping on their instruments and tearing in. Notwithstanding any of my opinions of their music, I could readily see that they were tearing in with gusto and playing the hell out of their songs. The even came with a new material in hand, offering a short-ish, mostly instrumental number.
To my surprise, I enjoyed it more than I thought I might. Some of it was even... okay. Some of their more ponderous stretches didn't do much for me, but I guess I had some appreciation for what they were doing. I liked some of the intricate guitar interplay and the lift from Rob Gordon's drums.7 It was a big hit with the crowd, natch, so obviously in some quarters they'd been missed pretty intently. I left satisfied with my night, and hoped, vaguely, that the Kalimba Kids had a good time, too, and maybe took home something new from this show.
1 I also recognized one of the sax player from Brides, but they're not big on giving names away, either.
2 My understanding is that this was McLean's first Magic Cheezies show on bass, having previously been behind the kit. So that change, and a new drummer in tow, might well explain some of the band's not-quite-smoothness.
3 And it took the most stringent efforts of my inner editor to delete the word "suburban" from that sentence. Not only do I not know where these kids came down from, but I really don't want to be one of those types who effortlessly derides any sort of gaucheness as suburban, as if anyone living on the GO line instead of the TTC, say, is some sort of barbarian at the gate of real culture. Like it's really so simple as that, as much as I'm susceptible to falling into those tropes. Let those of us whose cultural sensibility was born, fully formed, from the forehead of some boheminan, downtown god of cool cast the first stone here.
4 Though she did ask, after, looking sidelong at her bandmates, "is it frosh week?"
5 It's not impossible that the frequent trips to the bar were shifting these kids from sloppy-genial to something further along the boozy spectrum.
6 And, in fact, Lee was the only one who showed up "in uniform", with a small cut-out felt letter B pinned to his shirt. The rest of the band — previously noted for their team-like home-made B-shirts — were all without.
7 Gordon was also on the WL500 stage back on Wednesday night in his new gig with Pony Da Look.
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