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KEREN ANN + Dean & Britta @ Cabaret Juste Pour Rire

By Simon Howell - A Listening Ear - 02/08/2008

"You'll have to keep walking, friend." 

Where am I? Why have I arrived at 9:10 pm, ten minutes after "doors open," only to discover Dean & Britta already onstage, about three songs into their set? Most importantly -- "friend"? Can I get a good, old-fashioned "move, asshole!" or, better yet, indifferent silence, as is customary at every other gig I've ever attended in this fine city, as I make my way through the crowd? Something is amiss.

As I look out on the small mass of seated spectators, with their brows furrowed, necks strained, wine glasses half-full and a few dozen palms firmly applied to chins (with more surely on the way) as if in deep consideration of the concert in progress, I begin to realize that this will not be a typical gig. No, this is the last weekend before that most accursed of holidays, wherein we commemorate a beheaded Christian martyr by either overspending on our significant others or, if we have none, praying for death. Tonight I am surrounded by the former lot -- more specifically, middle-aged, upper-middle class couples for whom this is Serious Stuff. This is going to be a classy evening enjoyed by quiet, serious folks with money. There is a pretty severe handicap against me deriving any enjoyment this evening. 

As I said, despite my obsessively early arrival, things are already underway. Dean & Britta are well into their set of dreamy, shoegaze-inflected duet pop by the time I awkwardly squeeze my way into a seat, feeling very much like a lower-caste citizen. Speaking of Valentine's Day, Dean & Britta (both formerly of shoegaze/slowcore pioneers Luna) make for a handsome pair -- Dean Wareham's all-guitar heroics and Lou Reed grit, going nicely with Britta Phillips' airy croon. Much as I appreciate the smooth songwriting and seamless vocal blending of the two, they don’t really leave much of an impression until the second-to-last song of their set, a cover of recently departed Lee Hazlewood's "You Turned My Head Around," in which Phillips cuts loose with a huge, belting chorus straight out of a Dusty Springfield record. It's a moment strong enough to make me buck up, get accustomed to my staid surroundings, and do my best to enjoy myself.

It happens just in time, because not twenty minutes later, Keren Ann emerges with only a drummer and guitarist -- surprising, since her records are so densely layered with orchestral elements. Within only a few moments of opener, "Nolita," however, my concerns are swept aside; she knows what she's doing. Ann's steady acoustic picking patterns and intoxicating vocals -- sweetly intoning "I think I'm gonna bury you" -- are complimented by her guitarist's carefully strummed, reverberated swells, making for a deeply cinematic contrast. By the time the drummer finally gets around to contributing with lush cymbal washes, we're already sold, and damn it, I now feel like part of the crowd. That's how convincing she is. 

The rest of her set coasts along on her easy charm and obvious talent. Her songs aren't always particularly distinctive -- a couple of early ballads, in particular, don't leave much of an impression -- but when she's on, like during blues-rock stomp, "It Ain't No Crime," on which she convincingly switched to a bass guitar, you're surprised the price of admission isn't twice as high. Her accompanist is clearly a session musician, a complete pro -- his whammy-heavy solo is just too perfect for him not to be. Even Ann shows few signs of human error. During that song and recent single, "Lay Your Head Down," (jauntier here than on record) she even proves to be a mean harmonica player. Thankfully, a few cracks do finally show up throughout the evening -- Ann having to take a breath during the rapid-fire verses of "Sailor and Widow," for instance, or her accompanist's surprisingly tentative backing vocals on the lovely "Not Going Anywhere." These very minor flaws go a long way towards humanizing the experience.

After her brief eleven-song set (and a single song in the encore), I head back out into the cold evening feeling as though I had just stepped into some sort of bizarre alternate universe. Had I in fact gotten a glimpse of my own future? Will I one day be a working professional of some kind, and if so, will this be my preferred form of concert-going, merely as a pseudo-romantic contrivance? Will I react against the noisy, messy music of my youth and partake only in adult-contemporary and its adherents? If that's the case, then as long as Ann keeps her silvery pipes, I have the perfect Valentine's weekend plan for my (admittedly depressing) future self.


Tune in to A Listening Ear with Simon
every Tuesday from 1pm - 2pm

MGMT - Oracular Spectacular

By Simon Howell - The Listening Ear - 01/22/2008

"I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw / I'm in the prime of my life." Beginnings don't get much more confident than "Time to Pretend," the ebullient opener to Brooklyn synth-pop duo MGMT's (pronounced "management") debut album. The track explodes with Technicolor synths, Dave Fridmann's typically commanding production work and an infectious sense of purpose -- even as it tosses out inanities about getting "models for wives." It's a sign either of brilliant things to come, or a band a little too eager to grab your attention.

Sadly, the latter case is a better fit. Oracular Spectacular is one of the most glaringly front-loaded records since The Killers' Hot Fuss. Second track "Weekend Wars" could very well be a lost Life on Other Planets-era Supergrass single, complete with goofy keyboards, a jaunty acoustic guitar hook and an agreeably psychedelic coda. "The Youth" boasts a nicely creepy chord change to accompany its choral echoes of "Are you starting to change? / Are you together?" The rest of the album lacks that song's sense of eerie near-gravitas; "Electric Feel" stomps by strangely unnoticed, while another attempt at an acoustic guitar-driven track, "Pieces of What," also fails to leave any impression. In fact, the only substantive highlight after "The Youth" is "Kids," a catchy, straightforward dance-pop sing-along. Their departures into more left-field territory don't do them any favours; "4th Dimension Transition" and "The Handshake" meander through their twisted sonics and awkward melodic turns without arriving anywhere. Closer "Future Reflections" regains some of the verve exhibited on the album's first half before squandering it with an aimless ending.

Do MGMT a favour: go to your favourite online music provider, pay $3.97 for "Time to Pretend", "Weekend Wars," "The Youth" and "Kids" and encourage them to build up a little endurance for the next record. After all, we want We're In It for the Money, not Sam's Town.

Tune in to A Listening Ear with Simon every Tuesday from 1pm - 2pm

SAM SHALABI - Eid

By Simon Howell - A Listening Ear - 01/22/2008

About four years ago, when I was still ecstatic to have moved to a city in which great music was in abundance at a seemingly endless variety of used record stores, I picked up the Shalabi Effect's self-titled debut. Why? Principally because it had a shiny cover with a nebula on it, and it was a two-disc record for eight bucks, which seemed like an unbeatable bargain. Needless to say that seventeen-year-old me was inadequately prepared to process the two hours of drone-based recordings contained inside that inviting slipcase.

To my surprise, Shalabi's newest release (his third, minus the "Effect") is an eclectic set of Middle East-inspired experimental rock music -- its impetus apparently stemming from a trip to Egypt -- which often features surprisingly straightforward compositional structures. "Jessica Simpson" stomps along to a consistent, bass-driven rhythm for its eight minutes, culminating in a surprisingly intense 70's prog guitar solo (a device that pops up again on "Honey Limbo"). The grandiose structure and instrumentation, combined with the relatively lo-fi recording style, makes for a hazy, narcotic listen. The title track is more exotic, with woozy strings revolving around a simple, hypnotic figure, overlaid by distant, distorted vocals. Other tracks, like "Eddie," incorporate found sound and film dialogue along with the rest of the heady brew. Constellation singer Elizabeth Anka Vajajick takes the reigns on the dark dirge "Billy the Kid." "End Game" is most surprising -- a four-minute, driving rock song propelled by strings and Lhasa de Sela's gritty vocal. Alien8's press release mentions her past collaborations with Tindersticks and Nick Cave, and there's definitely a shared aesthetic evident on her work here. "Billy the Kid Pt. 2" continues in the song-based vein, a ghostly ballad led by singer Katie Moore and featuring a verse-chorus structure. It's expansive in a manner reminiscent -- of all things -- of American alt-country acts like Pinetop Seven. Closer "Pitchfork" resumes the more exploratory leanings of the album's first half with meandering horn and piano lines, creepy onomatopoeic vocal snippets, and martial drumming with a distorted, jarring climax and an acoustic comedown.

Alternately alien and comforting, Shalabi and his all-star cast manage to wring out newly imagined juxtapositions and energies from the confines of their improvisations and collaborations. You may at times be confounded by the results but you certainly won't be bored. At 65 minutes, that's an accomplishment in and of itself.

Tune in to A Listening Ear with Simon every Tuesday from 1pm - 2pm

THE PACK A.D. - Tintype

By Simon Howell - The Listening Ear - 01/22/2008

Too many bands get the particulars right but offer little in the grand scheme of things. They dazzle you with colorful cover art, witty liner notes, slick production, or a clever name. So it was refreshing to discover B.C. duo The Pack A.D.'s Tintype, which eschews all of these superficialities to deliver a surprisingly multifaceted blend of blues-rock, undercut by a compelling moody streak and aided by its bare-bones production (courtesy of drummer Maya Miller). 

The remaining member of the group, vocalist/guitarist (and occasional pianist) Becky Black is a revelation -- while her riffs are more reminiscent of early White Stripes or The Black Lips, her vocal phrasings and blinding passion evoke a young Corin Tucker. The duo spends the first five tracks (there are seventeen in all, clocking in at a speedy forty-seven minutes) demonstrating their effectiveness at delivering fairly conventional blues-rock with ample energy, especially on raucous opener "Gold Rush." Brooding slow-burner "Pilot's Blues" relaxes the pace for a moment, paving the way for the first of three piano instrumentals. These interludes help greatly in aiding the album's feeling of emotional starkness, although they get slightly wearisome as they get longer, with the third lasting nearly three minutes.

Perhaps the best sign of greatness to come from this promising duo comes through on “Walk On" -- a simple, two-minute ballad you might miss on first listen. In its simple execution and graceful progression, one can hear the possibility of embellishing it on a greater budget, with a choir or some Memphis horns backing Black's reserved croon -- but this wouldn't make the song any better. Everything they'll ever need is right there on the track. Here's hoping they have the wisdom to preserve their bracing sense of economy in the future.

Tune in to A Listening Ear with Simon every Tuesday from 1pm - 2pm

THE DIABLEROS - Aren't Ready for the Country

By Simon Howell - A Listening Ear - 11/01/2007

What's a plain old rock band to do? There has never been a more difficult time for two to five people to congregate in a garage with the usual accoutrements and concoct anything worth hearing -- it's inevitably been done before, and better, and in a hundred permutations. Nowadays you don't know whether to give these foolhardy new bands a pat on a back for their bravery or a smack upside the head for their stupidity. Right now, "not having a niche" isn't a good niche. Whether that's a good or bad thing I leave to you, but it must certainly be said that those who enter this arena face an uphill battle.

Unfortunately for them, Ontario's Diableros face an additional problem: vocalist and songwriter Pete Carmichael writes solid -- sometimes even pretty great –- songs, but they'd be better served by a full-time vocalist. He often sounds out of breath where he should confident, but more importantly, there's nothing distinctive about his vocal timbre. Occasionally he'll write a song suited to his limited vocal talents, like album standout "Ever-Changing," but even then there's the inescapable sense that a more dynamic vocalist might have really sent the song into the stratosphere. This is especially true of "Nothing Down in Hogtown," which features what should be a memorable chorus worthy of The Walkmen, but Carmichael doesn't quite have the gusto the song needs. The case is the same for the seven-minute centerpiece, "Turning Backwards," which requires an engaging vocal to carry its extended running time (and drags without it).

All of this is a damn shame because as a band, Diableros are appealing and inventive; the feedback and organ combination on "Ever-Changing," and the tasteful use of horns and pedal steel, respectively, on a pair of tracks indicates their ability to convincingly broaden their palette; the chord progressions often take surprising turns but are never uncomfortable; they have an instinctive sense of when to pile on distortion and cascading guitars and when to ease up and let the song breathe. It wouldn't be worth harping on the vocal aspect if they didn't have a number of things going for them, so here's hoping Carmichael improves, or that the remaining four members start contributing, so that the vocal aspect can match their otherwise-impressive sound.

Tune in to A Listening Ear with Simon every Tuesday from 1pm - 2pm

PETER BJORN AND JOHN + Young Galaxy @ Club Soda

By Sinbad Richardson - There You Have It Folks! - 01/21/2008

After canceling their Osheaga performance last August (to appear at the Music Video Awards in Las Vegas), Peter Bjorn (pronounced BUH-jorn) and John left their Montreal fans bitter -- this at the height of their first wave of international popularity. Last Monday, the Swedish band performed at the very friendly Club Soda with plenty of tickets still available. I “missed” the opening performers, Young Galaxy, but caught the lead singer when she joined Peter, Bjorn and John to sing the female vocals of their smash radio hit, “Young Folks.” Folks from The Guinness Book of Records were on location to register the new record number of people whistling at once, which was last set by a crowd attending an Otis Redding concert. Although the overall performance left me unaffected, I did appreciate the live version of “Amsterdam” off of their latest album, Writer's Block.

I remember a Bill Nye the Science Guy episode where he explained what made a song catchy and what didn't. What makes a band great? It has to be more than a hooking melody. Cultural phenomena have expiration dates and I think it's time for Peter, Bjorn and John to get back to the drawing board to preserve their creative credibility that I am sure they have.

Would I suggest this band to a friend who has been living under a rock for the past year? Probably not. Was the concert a total waste of time? No, not really. Do I always ask myself questions which I then answer too? Sometimes. My favorite part of the evening was the choice of words of Peter, Bjorn and John's backdrop, which read: "Peter, Bjorn and John's Backdrop." I appreciate that sort of humor.

The band formed in Stockholm in the late ‘90s with a major English pop influence. It would be interesting to see what happened between then and now. When a band gets a major break from a hit, there seems to be a one-year period where it can ride on the success of that song. Perhaps now would be that point when we either forget about them or we whistle to a new hit.

My rating for Peter Bjorn and Yawn: 3.5 / 10

My question to the reader: Do you ever feel silly enjoying something hyper mainstream?

Tune in to There You Have It Folks! with Sinbad every Monday from 9am - 11am.

 

SALLY SHAPIRO - Disco Romance

By Simon Howell - A Listening Ear - 10/30/2006

Of Sally Shapiro and producer/writer Johan Agebjörn, it can be said that first and foremost they know their product and its audience very well. The album is explicitly winter-themed, from Shapiro's snow-covered face on the cover to several song titles specifically name-checking the season -- it's a record meant for those of us who find ourselves seasonally affected as the windows frost over. The first thing you hear on eight-minute opener, "I'll Be By Your Side (Extended Mix)" is Shapiro's heavily vocodered voice, followed by drum patterns affectionately borrowed from ‘80s dance-pop (itself having been successfully plundered by the likes of Toronto's Junior Boys). Shapiro's voice eventually comes through the mix cleanly and without fanfare, and the combination of her direct-but-dreamy approach and the music's lush romanticism is an intoxicating one. When the album diverts itself from straight dance floor outings, Agebjörn and his muse don't lose any of their hushed confidence. "He Keeps Me Alive," the album's standout track, prioritizes its chilly glow -- provided by a rich bed of synth pads and chimes -- over its percussive elements, and pairs nicely with the song's theme of repressed emotion. Similarly, "Skating in the Moonshine" perfectly evokes its namesake with its swathes of reverb and sweetly tinged, minor-key melodies. Even further from the dance floor is "Jackie Jackie (Spend This Winter With Me)," with its quietly spoken verses and string-aided chorus. If you find yourself growing increasingly wistful as the temperature drops, you owe it to yourself to give Shapiro and Agebjörn's effervescent collaborations a spin.

Tune in to A Listening Ear with Simon every Tuesday from 1pm - 2pm

KATE NASH - Made of Bricks

By Simon Howell - A Listening Ear - 01/08/2008

UK chart pop is a considerably more idiosyncratic realm than its North American equivalent, at least on the surface. Its stars have always been able to get away with greater eccentricities along with their predictably slick aspects. The majority of the pop stars and semi-stars of the last five years that have exhibited significant deviance from cultural norms have been British, whether they're aggressively flamboyant (Mika), subtly creepy (James Blunt), politically active (M.I.A.) or unusually human (Lily Allen, Amy Winehouse). Kate Nash is the most recent in this latest wave of UK pop hopefuls -- where it was once nearly impossible to cross the great divide in a significant way (ask Robbie Williams), people are so starved for non-homogenous voices that anything seems possible.

If Nash is going to find success in the Americas it'll be on the basis of "Foundations," the lead-off track and by far the most effective song on the entire album, a clear-minded and catchy meditation on a failed relationship. It finds the right midway point between Nash's seemingly natural state -- the regal if blunt singer-songwriter -- and the sonic whirl brought in by producer (and on two tracks, co-writer) Paul Epworth. Quality levels drop exponentially after the initial success of "Foundations," as the lyrics get less witty and more inane for the most part. “Mouthwash”’s chorus ("I use mouthwash / and sometimes I floss / I've got a family / and I drink cups of tea") is destines to be added to the pantheon of awful UK pop lyrics, along with Des'ree's "Life" and Oasis' immortal rhyme of "plasticine" and "trampoline" on "Little James." The music suffers from diminishing returns too -- they seem to yearn for simpler treatments than the production offers, and yet there's the sense that without the pomp they might vanish into thin air. Other tracks offer promise only to be dashed by an irritating turn, like "Mariella"'s nauseating "never ever ever ever ever ever…" ending. Yet every ten minutes or so we get a glimpse of actual wit, as with the ending of "Birds," when Nash's vocal hits just the right note to express her protagonist's confused admiration for her boyfriend's avian analogy for their romance. If she can harness her natural abilities without falling prey to her more irritating impulses (or getting produced into oblivion), Nash may yet find an appropriate place in the often-baffling twin realms that have been so elusive for many would-be success stories in the past.

Tune in to A Listening Ear with Simon every Tuesday from 1pm - 2pm

 

ALOHA - Light Works

By Simon Howell - A Listening Ear - 12/04/2007

Some bands seem to have everything stacked against them. Aloha suffer from a boring name, generic song and album titling, less than magnificent lyrics, and an uninspiring vocalist. They are not particularly adventurous or distinctive in their pristine indie-rock sound, for the most part. Against the odds, however, they managed to quietly accomplish some impressive work; their last release, Some Echoes, featured a number of memorable songs with unconventional arrangements, relying heavily on xylophones, percussion and keyboards while minimizing the use of guitars. Light Works sees them substituting most of the keyboards for actual piano, and penning a set of songs so nondescript as to vacate your mind as soon as they leave your ears -- an example of living down to expectation?

Opener "Body Buzz" is probably the most memorable track, thanks to an agreeable chord progression, but there's a nagging sense that the track could have just as easily been recorded by any one of the deluge of Coldplay acolytes we've been subjected to over the past few years (The Fray, Keane, Snow Patrol, etc.). From there, things don't improve, as the number of lyrical inanities and redundancies increases. On "Broken Light," Tony Cavallario insists that "time is on my side" and that "today is like any other day," which makes you wonder why he bothered to write about it in the first place. The track slogs along for over five minutes without inspiration or revelation. "Trick Spring" shows promise, with its sprightly acoustic guitars tucked in either speaker and a return to the synth-driven sound of their previous output, but the song fails to capitalize on its potential energy, preferring to squat in place and squander a melodically interesting chorus with some inane chatter about weather machines. "The End" finally injects a bit of energy, adds some subtle horns, and manages to keep things under three minutes -- there's a bit of that potential at work, finally. "I know you can make an effort," they intone.

The effort stops, or at least it disappears from view. "Passengers" puts us firmly back in Keane-land, with its annoying chorus -- "too much of anything is wrong" -- which manages to be both prescriptive and distinctly unhelpful. At least "Gold World" brings in some of the unique percussion they're known for, but it's again paired with a blandly conceived ballad. Even the apparently improvised closer "Equinox" comes across as completely lacking in spontaneity, perhaps the greatest indicator of the group's aggressive sense of immobility. The drums try valiantly to play with emphasis, the synth lines meander a bit, the song meanders on over six minutes, but none of these elements manage to take the track anywhere. The most hopeful thing one can proffer up about this release: it's essentially a stopgap release as opposed to a "proper" new LP; let's hope it's not a harbinger of things to come for the talented but seemingly stifled group.

Tune in to A Listening Ear with Simon every Tuesday from 1pm - 2pm

BIG D AND THE KIDS TABLE + Brain Failure @ Foufounes Electriques

By Lindsay Wood - Through Being Cool - 12/08/2007

Concerts at Foufounes are always a gamble. Sometimes they can be rad. Other times, the crowd seems lost and the venue seems inappropriate. Seeing Big D there was one of those times where it seemed to be just right. I, personally, am very partial to the older styling of Big D so newer shows will never quite satisfy, although I will give them credit for having energy and mixing it up. For someone that has never seen them, this show was a pretty good idea of what they are all about.

As I was standing off to the side of the stage, there was a moment that struck me. Big D was tooting away on their instruments and for a brief moment, I realized that they sounded very much like one of my favorite ska core bands of ALL time, Link-80. I never got the pleasure of seeing them live and I drifted off for a few brief moments during the show and thought to myself, “I’m sure they would’ve been great.”

Now, onto Brain Failure. What an act to follow. When I go to a show and see a kick-ass band that I have been a fan of for years, such as Big D, I think to myself, “What are they thinking/doing before I see them?” I know I am sitting in the audience sipping my rye and coke, waiting to see them rather impatiently. But I have to ask myself, are THEY sitting back stage shitting bricks about whether the “warm-up” band is going to upstage them for the second show in a row? (My Toronto source says they did.)

Brain Failure did just that. They stole the show and embraced the venue in a way I have only seen bands like The Queers do. With loud, twangy guitars that make me think of Social Distortion and enough style to beat up any harijuku girl, these guys actually made my night and made the show. Keep your eyes on them, they are on their way up with an original(ish) thing going.

Next time around I may just have to skip the Big D and move onto the Brain Failure. 2008 is the year of new things, right? Or was it the year of the rat? Either way, out with the old and in with the Beijing Punk Ska Rock goodness.

Tune in to Through Being Cool with Lindsay every Monday from 11am - 12pm

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