RSS

Now let me just start this review by saying I was slightly worried while going in to the latest Montreal appearance from Manitoba’s Propagandhi (and that worry had nothing to do with the overzealous bouncer at Club Soda taking the batteries out of my portable recorder for fear that I would bootleg the show…although I was then half inclined to go buy new batteries and bootleg it on principle…but that’s neither here nor there.) Rather, in the months leading up to the show I experienced the following interaction more times than I can count with dudes who were wearing polo shirts: “you like punk rock?! Dude have you heard the new Propagandhi (pronounced “propaGANDI” as most French Canadians are wont to do) record?!?!” Now, don’t get me wrong: I love Propagandhi…I love what they stand for, I love the way they go about getting their message across (living entirely within the harder void of melodic-hardcore) and I cannot deny the impact they have had on the North American punk and hardcore scene throughout the course of their over 20 year history (specifically in Canada.)

However, (again, specifically in Canada) they are in every sense of the term “that band.” The band that every poseur who likes to fancy themselves a rebel gravitates to because, if I had to guess, they are loud and swear a lot (this is what Rage Against the Machine was in the 90s and Anti-Flag is in the U.S. now.) Therefore, I was expecting the usual Montreal almost-but-kinda mainstream punk show audience: guys in polo shirts who understand zero English, swilling Heineken with their buddies and frequently forgetting they aren’t at a hockey game and their loud and equally francophone girlfriends. Generally, shows like this make me want to commit poseur genocide. Were it not for CJLOs own Brian Hastie and his manservant Alexander keeping me distracted and the promise of what was sure to be an excellent opening set from Richmond, Virginia’s Strike Anywhere, I very well might have.

Speaking of distractions, while checking out the mass amount of activist propaganda the band brought on tour with them, I heard a charging drum beat coming from the main room and remembered there were actually TWO openers on the bill. After making our way inside to gawk at Montreal’s own Humanifesto, we found ourselves back outside in search of pizza five minutes later. Overly nasal and lyrically contrived, I’m fairly certain the only reason these mooks were allowed to open the show was because of their name. Thumbs down.

Following some delicious pizza from our friends at “that-place-across-the-street-from-foufs” we made our way back inside for the band I was unquestionably the most excited to see: Strike Anywhere. Having been a fan of their politically charged street punk stylings for many years but not having seen them for over a year, I was jonesing for some sweet sweet almost southern-fried punk rock. In this regard, I was not disappointed: their slightly more than 30 minute set hit all the right marks with tracks from all three of their full lengths and their upcoming record out this October and all the requisite intensity and sincerity one would expect from one of the most earnest bands out there today. My problem was the fact that while the room was more than packed, only about ten or fifteen people (including Hastie and myself) really seemed to be into it, which only hammered home the disconnect between the material being put forward by the bands and the audience that had rolled up because they like it when people swear. Simply put: if you like Propagandhi for the right reasons (well crafted hardcore with a message sharp enough to cut through concrete) then you should like Strike Anywhere and if you don’t you are wrong.

Which I guess brings us to Propagandhi themselves. After a relatively earnest presentation by volunteers from the Rainforest Action Network (good kids…I felt for them slightly given that NO ONE gave a shit about what they had to say), the band took to the stage and the room exploded as a lot of now very drunk French Canadians finally got to punch something. I know the band opened with the title track of their latest release, Supporting Caste but I can honestly say I tuned out after that. While it’s probably the number one crime all music snobs commit, I finally let my disgust with the audience take over.  Even though I should be used to it by now, it still boggles my mind how so many people can be so absent minded. Here are some of the smartest, well versed punks the nation of Canada has to offer and I’d say only about 6% of those in attendance knew and appreciated what they had to say. Of the other 94%, I’d say give or take 50% didn’t understand the lyrics AT ALL (thanks language laws), and the other 50 just didn’t care and were there because the band was loud and swore a lot. I’ve often called the band the Canadian Anti-Flag and I’m gonna stick to my guns on that one. However, the comparison stems not from anything the band does themselves, but how people react to them. Now, the jury is still out on how I feel about the whole “throw political jargon at a bunch of blockheads and eventually one or two will get it” line of logic, but I will say that I see little point in laying this good shit out for a bunch of drunken assholes who will wake up the next morning and make zero changes to their lifestyle.

Or maybe I’m just an overly sentimental pseudo-activist with an axe to grind. Either way I just got you to read 960 words chock full of slanted ideas and musical elitism…I somehow think Chris Hannah would be proud.

My admirably apt associate summed up the Warped Tour 2009 experience pretty well, so I won’t bore you with a second recounting of the day’s events. I also won’t bother with the obligatory “this was my sixth and last Warped Tour because I am OLD” spiel that encapsulated my reviews of the last two years of everyone’s favorite summer cash suck. Mostly since A) it probably isn’t and B) I’m not old...not yet, and in fact Warped Tour 2009 actually made me feel a lot younger than I’ve felt in a good long while (not like the jump from 15 to 22 is all that impressive…if I were 36 maybe that statement would mean more, but I’m gonna run with it.) 

When I was younger I held this naïve assumption that while laypeople like me could judge bands favorably or unfavorably, there was a general sense of unity amongst “bands.” As I grew older, I realized this is starkly not the case and in fact musicians have been waging war amongst themselves, usually over the entirely silly concept of “credibility”, much longer than I’ve been on this Earth. This elitism has been especially present on The Warped Tour over the past give or take seven years. While initially founded as a summer, carnival inspired punk and ska tour, the lineups rapidly expanded to include representatives from such esteemed genres as emo, screamo, metalcore or, essentially, whatever happened to be hot amongst vaguely alternative kids that year. As the lineups became more diverse, the war of legitimacy raged on as the purists took up arms against the new kids, the punks glued their mohawks ever higher and the scene kids combed their hair even further down their faces. 

Then came 2009…then came “crunk-core”…then came Brokencyde. 

Admittedly, for a self-proclaimed music culture scholar, I did not see this coming. Who could have thought the once mighty hip-hop would…even COULD pervade pop culture like this? Never in a million years did I expect to see screamo kids attempt to rhyme-scream (or worse, lip-sync) over poorly constructed dance club beats. Try as I may, I did not see “crunk-core” coming. Now, admittedly, while they may or may not have attained this moniker, I’ve more or less determined Albuquerque’s Brokencyde to be a figurehead of this movement. Respected British author and commentator Warren Ellis has called the band "a near-perfect snapshot of everything that’s shit about this point in the culture" and I for one see it as a pretty apt description of these four pretty boys, decked out with their hair neatly coiffed and their guyliner (did you know that’s what they were calling it now? I sure as hell didn’t) eloquently applied screaming about tits and ass and throwing the n-word around like it was Tennessee in the 1960s. Despite having confirmation by other bands on the tour that these marvelous pretty boys were actually LIP-SYNCHING on the goddamn WARPED TOUR, kids turned out in droves to see them as well similar (read: similarly horrible) acts Millionaires, 3OH3, I Set My Friends On Fire and Jeffree Star. One could be very quick to crucify tour founder and organizer Kevin Lyman for tarnishing the almost respectable name of the Warped Tour like this, some would say almost beyond repair. However, I for one understand that times are tough right now, and in order to stay afloat at all everyone, even the punk purists, have to acknowledge (not accept, but at least acknowledge) that changes have to be made. To Lyman’s credit, he did manage to pack in a noticeable amount of “respectable”, old school acts in the form of NoFX, Less Than Jake, Bad Religion, Flogging Molly, Anti-Flag, Big D and the Kids Table and earlier on the tour, The Bouncing Souls, to the point that the few screamo acts present (Chiodos, Silverstein and Underoath to name a few) almost seemed like the odd men out, sandwiched between trends long past and trends present (whether this signals the end of screamo in the mainstream remains to be seen.) 

However, this new shift in performers had some previously unforeseen results: the legitimacy bar, once incredibly high, plummeted to the point that it all but disappeared and if you played your own guitars and wrote (and sang) your own songs, you were immediately accepted over the likes of the lip-synching pretty boys and scantily clad showgirls. Never in a million years did I expect to see any member of Bad Religion use the word “friends” and “Alexisonfire” in the same sentence. I was legitimately stunned to observe the playful back and forth between NoFX and Underoath as presented by their merchandise (mentioned above), especially after the very bitter and very public feud that occurred the last time they were on the tour together. For the first time since I was fifteen years old I saw “bands” (in general) united against a common enemy, playing their hearts out for a cause they believed in against someone they perceived as a threat (and rightfully so to some extent.) 

Therefore, when Gallows frontman Frank Carter thanked the (substantial) audience for turning up to see them, you goddamn knew he meant it. Now, I know I promised not to retread the ground laid above, but I just have to take a moment to emphasize how fucking incredible Gallows were. I’ve said in the past that Gallows are at their entertainment peak when they are goddamn pissed off. This performance proved that what may previously have been intensity manifested by anger was now very much intensity motivated by love. Gallows, possibly more than any other band that I saw that day, were doing what they were doing because they legitimately loved to be doing it SPECIFICALLY in the face of some of the other acts on the tour. I’ve been fortunate enough to see Gallows four times now and while it’s already old hat for Frank, the elder Carter, to make his way into the pit to rough house with the crowd he very much saw himself as a part of, I was legitimately surprised to see usually reserved rhythm guitar player Steven Carter throw his guitar off and jump into the crowd smiling from ear to ear during the lead out of crowd favorite track “Orchestra of Wolves.” I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: believe the hype, Gallows are one of the best things going on in hardcore right now and they can only get bigger (and better) from here. 

Before I wrap up, I want to mention one more act who I can honestly say not only shook me right to the bone physically, but reaffirmed the power of music to me in general: Minnesota’s own P.O.S. One of only two hip-hop acts on the tour (which is generally one more than usual), his set happened to be conveniently placed right inside the eye of the torrential downpour the pummeled Ile St. Helene that day. However, despite the rain beating down and the aural onslaught of the Anti-Flag performance happening a new yards away threatening to tear him town, P.O.S. ventured down off the stage, his microphone wrapped in a towel, and sang his heart out for the few fans dedicated enough to stand in a circle in the middle of a downpour to see a rapper perform at the Warped Tour. Despite the noticeably biting pellets of rain beating down on me, threatening cell phone destruction and future sickness, I stood my ground, marveled by the performance of this very small fish in the this very big pond. 

So that’s that…another year, another Warped Tour. It’ll be interesting to see where the tour stands next year if the changes present this year are, as some are suspecting, only the beginning. Regardless, for a few brief hours I observed a glimmer of hope for honest, hard working musicians in a scene that is quickly growing away from them. What happens next is quite literally anyone’s guess, but chances are I’ll be around to document it (or at the very least ridicule it.)

The last time I saw the Raveonettes was when they were touring behind their sophomore full length, Pretty in Black, with LA noisepop trio Autolux.  While I’ll admit I went primarily for Autolux (who are probably, and pretty much a well known fact around these CJLO halls, my favourite band currently), having the Raveonettes on the bill was an added bonus, as I was a fan of their Jesus and Mary Chain knock off songs.  It was pretty much a dream show for anybody who likes their pop songs covered in white noise, fuzz, feedback, and the occasional droney rhythms, and the Raves were spot-on that night - bubbly, buoyant and loud.

Since then, some things have changed for the Danish duo of Sune Rose Wagner and Sharin Foo.  The last time they were here, they had a full backing band (drummer, bassist and guitarist) which provided some loud and dense versions of their recorded output.  This time, as they premiered on their stint at SXSW earlier, they’ve decided to strip things down to just Wagner and Foo on guitar, and a stand-up drummer (snare, floor tom/bass drum, and one cymbal only), giving another nod to the early setup of the Jesus and Mary Chain.  While they did employ the use of sequencers for added fuzz and bass sounds (I think Foo only picked up the bass on one song), it didn’t sound too phony, and it also didn’t seem like they were relying too much on sequencers or laptops (*ahem* Jesu.)  While I’m not a big fan of live sequencers, they actually pulled it off nicely, and Wagner and Foo managed to coax enough searing shards of white noise from their stockpile of pedals that pretty much proved that as a 3-piece they’re just as noisy as they were as a 5-piece.

New songs from their latest, and best album, Lust Lust Lust were enthusiastically received, especially “Dead Sound” and current single “I Want the Candy”, while older songs like “Great Love Sound” and especially “Attack of the Ghost Riders” got a fervent (fist pumping…I kid you not) response from the crowd.

Not necessarily the most energetic (already having cancelled one date in Detroit and apparently appearing extremely exhausted at the Toronto show the night before), the band seemed to be still shaking off some of the mental and physical cobwebs brought on from playing a ridiculous amount of shows at this year’s SXSW festival in Ausin, Tx.  That being said, they did have enough energy in their system to put on a solid show, and were probably feeding off of the excited Saturday night crowd.  As well, the subdued atmosphere of black clothing and soft red lights seemed to help with providing a more laid-back feeling to the show, rather than making the trio look tired. 

Leaving the crowd happy, they ended their set with a great take on Stereolab’s “French Disko” and then finally with a searing rendition of Lust Lust Lust’s opener, and one of my fave songs of the year so far, “Aly Walk With Me”, complete with two extended white noise freakouts that you could feel deep in your ear canal.  That was some next-level brain tickling, I tell ya (hehehe, I remember playing this song for CJLO Program Director Brian Joseph and having him cover his ears…not a big fan of the white noise freakouts, that man…).

As for the venue, I’ve never seen a show at Les Saints, and had just been told it’s usually too big for the shows booked there.  Luckily for the Raves, the show was pretty well attended, and the hall, which basically looks like an oversized basement, surprisingly had pretty good sound.  Asides from an exit-line that pretty much bottlenecks near the coat-check area (*cough* fire hazard *cough*), it’s not a bad venue for shows.

Anyhow, end result?  Not a bad show at all.  Nothing too special, but a pleasant performance nonetheless…and I at least got my white noise fix for the week, giving me some cloudy hearing post-show for a few minutes…yeeeah, totally worth it.

The thing about side-project bands is that they are always a gamble the first time around…and when gambling, the outcome can go one of three ways: win big, lose bad or come out even. The latter is how it was last night at the Green Room when Nickel Eye pulled into town to kick off their North American tour. Given the fact that their debut album, The Time of the Assassins, will only be released on Jan 27th (and I haven’t had the chance to hear an advanced copy either), it was -30° outside and the show hadn’t been overly advertised, breaking even isn’t such a bad thing.

Nickel Eye is a clever play on words for The Strokes’ bass player Nikolai Fraiture’s side project. While the hiatus following the last album and tour for his main day job began to drag on, Nickolai hooked up with the UK band South and recorded some demos in London. Taking the songs back across the Atlantic, he enlisted the help of some New York musicians/friends (Nick Zimmer of Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Regina Spektor) and finished the album. Completely written and produced by Nikolai, Time of the Assassins, is a departure from the Strokes upbeat post-punk sound. Rooted in the songs of Leonard Cohen, it is much more influenced by the 60’s Greenwich Village folk sound than the 70’s Lower East Sides music scene. Now this may not be the best description of the album, but as I’ve already said, I have yet to be able to sit and give the album a proper listen … but since this is a review of the show and not the album that isn’t something I’m going to worry about.

The fact that I gave the show a “breaking even” rating isn’t to say that the music wasn’t good, it had more to do with other factors that kept it from being a stand out show. First was the fact that it was the kickoff show of the tour and it felt like it. While the songs were okay, it just seemed like the band had not had enough time playing them to inspire an audience that has yet to hear them. It was more like a dress rehearsal than a proper show. Adding to the problem was the fact that even though the Green Room was pretty full, most of the audience seemed like they had come to see a member of the Strokes rather than Nickel Eye. This is something that is going to happen when you begin a tour two weeks before the album comes out and you are mostly known for being the quiet member of the band who at the turn of the century were christened the saviors of rock. Singer-songwriter folk rock isn’t going to get much of a response from people expecting The Strokes hits like “Last Nite” or “Hard to Explain”. At one point early on, Nikolai even mentioned the lack of energy in the room by commenting “You can cut the silence with a knife,” that got a few snickers but didn’t solve the problem. All of this added with the Wednesday night slot, the aforementioned -30° and the drive through a snowstorm in the Adirondack Mountains to get here, the show was in a bad spot from the start.

That’s not to say that there weren’t any highlights. The first single Brandy of the Damned is the closest thing to a Strokes song Nickel Eye has. It could easily be an out-take from Room on Fire or First Impressions of Earth, with its weird Gypsy/reggae beat and jangly guitars. Back From Exile, which is the B-side to Brandy, is a Dylan-esque folk-rock song that could easily have been released as a single on its own strength. My personal favorite Nickel Eye song of the night was probably Providence, R.I., a song rooted in the memories of visits to his Grandfather’s place in the woods of Rhode Island. In fact it was the one song that was shouted as a request from someone a few songs into the night. Deciding to stick to his pre-arranged set list Nikolai reassured the audience member that it was coming up and adding “this is all we got.” The best song of the night had to be the cover of Nico’s classic track These Days. I hate to say that the best song of the night was a cover, but when you have the foresight to pick such a perfect song that works with both your folk-noir sound and your New York City connection, then it isn’t a negative, is it?

All in all I give Nikolai credit for doing his own thing and not just trying to recreate The Strokes. These are his songs and his musical statement. For the quiet one to step out of the shadows and pick up a guitar and harmonica takes guts. Had the album been out a while and the band been able to have a few more shows under its belt, then this show would probably have rated higher for me. Then again all things are relative, since a girl named Claudia told Nickel Eye on their myspace page that it was “the show of a lifetime.”