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By Dan Stefik - The Ground-Up - 11/05/2006

Sometime early November, Colin Meloy and his lofty band of Decemberists pulled into Montreal’s Metropolis and delivered on that Sunday night. While I was under the impression that something was missing during their performance, I couldn’t shake the fact that this band has a vast, diversely made-up following dedicated to their own brand of indie-folk/rock.

Appreciating this Portland-based outfit is becoming a contentious affair; some people just don’t get it (the obsession) while others find no need to get anything (obsessed) in the first place. I say just like it if you like it and loathe it if you don’t.

The fact that EMI have signed them on to their shiny, polished roster has rubbed some the wrong way, and with good reason. This new batch of songs (The Crane’s Wife) have a glistening quality about them, especially when compared to the production qualities that nurtured Meloy’s last batch of songs, (2004’s Picaresque).

At the root of the Decemberists popularity is a deep-seated ambivalence. Some say that the band’s histrionics are over the top, and when compared to most cooler-than-thou trendy indie rock bands and their followers, they indeed are. Similar arguments are often leveled at Destroyer’s Dan Bejar and his idiosyncratic vocal stylings. I would argue that Bejar and Meloy are two of the most interesting lyricists in indie rock, but if you can’t appreciate where their pens meet the page, you just might not get it.

So, to say the least, a number of lovers and literature majors recently congregated at the Metropolis club, and Meloy and his cast of characters didn’t let them down. The set comprised a number of tracks from each album, but the majority of them from the latest, which might have disappointed some fans this time around. Regardless of the (major label) track leanings, the show was about much more than meets the ear. Meloy proved that indie rock can be so much more than the iPod generation have made it. It can be smart and it can be dubiously cool. At one point he had the rather large floor-bound crowd split right up the middle, the one side shouting, albeit lovingly, at the other in one immensely uninhibited sing-along. Doesn’t sound original enough for you? How about Meloy organizing his costumed bandmates onto the floor and narrating a scene from the stage: they were to render one of those moments of National Heritage (not unlike those wonderful commercials from Canadian Heritage we’ve all frequently seen on the tube). If that didn’t do it for you (read: make you proud to be a Canadian, or a native for that matter), then nothing could (or you simply weren’t there).

[Tune in to The Ground-Up Tuesdays from Noon to 2pm.]

By Jo Satana - 11/17/2006

I can already hear the sighs in your voice: "Guns 'n Roses... you mean that hack Axl’s poor excuse for a band? He’s ripping people off by selling concert tickets for a band that no longer exists? Who needs him, and besides, there’s nothing he does that I haven’t seen before!"

I want to first start off by saying that if you recognize yourself in the quotation above, then you are a whiny bitch. Secondly, I want to add that I disagree with people who immediately write off an artist by comparing them to an older peer. Art IS evolution, and each new generation of artists build from the structures handed to them from the artists of the past. Writing off Axl as a glorified Steven Tyler for example is like saying Steven Tyler is a glorified Robert Plant... who is in turn a supped-up version of Mick Jagger... you catch my drift.

Now on with the show:

Arriving a little tardy as usual -- come on people, I was gunning it cross-province style -- we completely missed the opening act. I was detained at the entrance by a few of the bouncers in a friendly exchange of conversation and couldn't be bothered to wrap things up rather than hurry on in, out of curiosity, to witness the noisy crapfest that was going on onstage (i.e. I heard what the opening band sounded like from outside and preferred to share a few drinks in the parking lot).

Surprisingly, The Suicide Girls (salivating) were up next and to my dismay, shook their little party things in front of a quiet, polite audience. It's not that their routine was tired or anything (well frankly, aside from the stewardess bit, the awesome hula-hoop bit, and the chocolate sauce as "feces" bit, these girls aren't really great dancers albeit excellent eye candy) but the Ottawa crowd was way too polite and came off a little prudish. They clapped...but were were the screaming and the cat calls? At least the music was good; they strung together a fairly nice soundtrack, kids!

Sebastien Bach was the last opening act and I'm not going to lie: I couldn't take it. Three songs in and a 100 "Canada can really rock/Canadian women are the best" comments later, I was off to the bar to get energized and to cleanse my pallet. Man, what was even worst was the sound. I don't want to jump to any conclusions, but there was either a strategic move to make Sebastien's voice the only thing audible (more on this later), or someone really needs to check if the "on" switch was pulled on everyone else’s equipment (I'm not going to blame the arena's accoustics... yet). Barely bearable set in my book, not from a music perspective but Bach is one of the more annoying frontmen I've encountered in my lifetime and the fact that he messed up "Ottawa" for "Toronto" was the icing on the cake. And yes, the Trailer Park Boys did come onstage a few times, which is curious because WTF were they doing there in the first place? Couldn’t the Suicide Girls come on and join the party instead? I mean, really.).

Now for the moment of truth, the pièce de résistance, the moment that validates and qualifies this review in the first place: Axl Rose's new G'nFkn R!

Walking leisurely onstage at the early time of midnight, I was immediately taken aback from what I saw: Axl Rose really is the artist that time forgot. My mouth was almost agape as I watched the world's most notorious frontman walk pleasantly onstage during "Welcome to the Jungle", smiling genuinely at the audience, wearing a respectable black shirt and jeans. I was suddenly overtaken with the impression that the world really did move on without him for the past 15 years and that we are suddenly becoming re-acquainted with someone who obviously took the time to mature and perfect his game. Let me explain.

When he first announced his comeback two years ago, it was a disaster. He had strung together a freak show of a band that he obviously didn't fit in with (or respect) and was plagued with stories of brawls and show cancellations. They were obviously trying to hold onto the torch that has long been unlit. Obviously learning from his mistakes, what I saw before me was an artist who culled together a nice adult band comprised of virtuosos and jammers who could easily fit in as Joe Cocker's group. It was shocking. It was as if he shed his "Appetite" skin and is now able to focus on something else entirely. Really weird stuff considering the last version of him I saw was a coked-up wife-beater on the road to destruction.

Live, the group played their classics ranging from the fast to the slow. It’s obvious that his voice (which was always plagued with problems since the beginning) no longer has the power to carry like it used to and the sound, for the faster/louder songs at least, were subdued and very tame. I was put off by this at first because the only thing audible at a respectable Rock 'N Roll level was his voice and whatever solo was being played. Frankly, if the sound arrangements were done otherwise, Axl would have been completely drowned out. On the plus side, the slower ballads were perfect and were actually the most pleasurable part of the whole experience: I can totally see Axl doing a small club tour in the future, just him, his piano and a guitarist.

So there you have it, two hours and a half, all the classics, one encore, five new songs (insert Chinese Democracy jokes here) and a very upbeat and surprisingly appreciative -- I can even say HUMBLE -- Axl. I have no clue where his current journey will take him, but if 15 years made him what I saw last night, he is definitely on the right path. At 2:30 am, the car ride was quiet on the way home (everyone was fast asleep, jerkoffs!), but looking into the barren countryside of the 417 on my way back to QC, I couldn't help but smile and realize that Rock 'N Roll isn't dead, it just traded its leather jacket and bandana for a smoking blazer and a nice pair of shoes.

Great, mature and professional Rock 'N Roll that was stained by an unfortunate appearance by Sebastien Bach. He even came onstage with Axl and gushed like a little school boy. Blergh!

[Jo Satana doesn't work here anymore, but he keeps sending us stuff.]

By Katie Seline - Wrong Side of the Bed - 09/12/2006

I have a confession to make: I am a sucker for pop culture. I dance around my room to really bad pop music, I will stay home to watch prime time television such as The O.C. and Grey’s Anatomy, and my favourite movie is, to this day, Reality Bites. Does that make me a big lame-o? Probably.

At the risk of getting beaten up by my peers at the station, I am willing to admit that Snow Patrol’s latest album, Eyes Open, was one of my favourite of 2006. I picked it up while my iPod was in the shop and all I had was a &5 CD player from the Australian version of K-Mart, two other CDs and a hell of a lot of time on a bus from Sydney to Brisbane. I listened to the album once, liked it, shelved it for my $2 copy of Neil Young’s greatest hits, and then rediscovered it after my backpacker love affair inevitably came to an end and I was feeling that kind of angst that only cheesy pop love songs and a lot of wine out of a box can relieve. My man Gary Lightbody has gotten me through some lonely nights.

When I first heard Snow Patrol was coming to town, I played the whole cool indie kid thing and told everyone I was going to see opening act The Duke Spirit -- who, by the way, are amazing. When The Duke Spirit cancelled the gig the week before, my cover was blown. I found myself at Metropolis with the only friend I could get to come to the show with me (bless her heart) amongst a slew of 15-year-old girls who all looked like Marissa Cooper. The band finally took the stage and began the show to a bombardment of shrill screams I thought I could only possibly hear at a Backstreet Boys show in the mid 90’s. Then things started going wrong -- well as bad as they could possibly go at a show like this. Lighbody’s guitar broke during the first song. Tech guy comes on stage to fix it. It breaks again. Lightbody is given a new guitar. That guitar breaks. Tech guy returns. Things go well until the end of the song. Repeat. Eventually a guitar is found that works. Lightbody explains that everything on this tour has broken. We all wonder why a band that has sold roughly half a million records has crappy gear.

What impressed the pants off of me was Lightbody’s composure during all of this, and how his vocals and the sheer power of his voice completely made up for the lack of guitar. It definitely sounded like something was missing, but the music certainly didn’t sound bad to any extent. I’m not even sure most of the kids there knew what they were missing. The rest of the set went off without a hitch, the band playing a really nice combination of songs from their new album and their first release Final Straw. Songs like "Run" and "Open Your Eyes" maintained the haunting quality that they had when backed up by visuals in the season finales of shows like Grey’s Anatomy and ER, and the band totally rocked out playing songs like "Chocolate" and "You’re All I Have". If I had actually paid for this show I would safely say without any hesitation that I would have gotten my money’s worth.

I have always wondered why it is that making money, getting played on Top 40, and licensing your music to television means selling out to a lot of people. When Snow Patrol released Final Straw, they were considered by many as an indie act to be reckoned with. Upon their latest, more polished and produced release, they are now considered pop and have lost a lot of their clout in the indie community. I ask myself all the time, is it pop because it sounds a certain way? Or is it pop because it is popular? In the case of Snow Patrol I think it is a little of both and I believe that there is a lot on the album that shows the band as a more mature indie act that has been overlooked due to the success of "Open Your Eyes" and "Chasing Cars". A good example of this is their duet with Martha Wainwright, "Set The Fire To The Third Bar". For some reason since I have bought the album back in the summer time, I have not been able to stop listening to it or at least enjoying it when I do hear it and to me, that is far more important than whether or not far too many other people like it as well. Call me lame if you want. Call me a sell-out if you wish, but I like what I like and I will never be ashamed to admit that.

Snow Patrol returns to Metropolis on March 30th with OK GO and Silversun Pickups.

[Tune in to Wrong Side Of The Bed every Wednesday from 5pm to 7pm.]

By Johnny Suck - Turn Down the Suck - 10/28/2006

Johnny’s History of Seeing Hatebreed: The first time I saw Hatebreed (April 2001, opening for Sepultura) I didn’t care. The second time I saw Hatebreed (January 2002, opening for Slayer) I didn’t care. Then they released Perseverance and I ended up loving it. Now that I cared, I went to see them a third time (June 2002) but they cancelled. They rescheduled and I went (July 2002), but they cancelled again. Then, for whatever reason, I missed them the next time they came to Montreal (September 2003). Years passed, I stopped caring, but for old times' sake I decided to go see them for what was supposed to be their return to Montreal (May 2006), which ended up being cancelled. They came through with System of a Down at Parc Jean-Drapeau not long after (August 2006), but seeing how I still hold a grudge for the 2002 SoaD show at Jean-Drapeau being one of the worst shows I have ever been to, I stayed home. So anyway, the point is that the October 2006 edition of Hatebreed in Montreal was a damn long time coming for me.

Now, the thing about Hatebreed is that they are a perfect example of a band that receives both way too much hype and way too much hate. Exposure to either can seriously skew one’s view of the band and to properly enjoy the music you really have to be able to ignore hype, ignore the hate, and ignore the derision of everybody else in the CJLO Loud Rock division. Only once that’s done can you go in and take the band at face value.

So here I am at the Hatebreed show with all these different factors floating around: there’s the bitterness towards a band that has cancelled the last three times I was supposed to see them; the desire to love the show as much as the kid who listened to Perseverance every single day for an entire summer would have; the ‘yeah I like it, but not that much’ attitude towards their new album; the doubt of whether I even care anymore; the regret of missing Mouth of The Architect over at Café Campus on the same night; and the distortion caused by all of the external hype & hate. But to their credit, Hatebreed were able to come out and cut through, no, make that smash through all that noise and made the show about one thing and one thing only: the music.

Sure it may not be the most intelligent or artistic music around, but it fucking connected. And when you go to a show, that’s really all that matters. Hatebreed managed to connect better than any band in the last two-dozen shows I’ve been too, so we’re talking 70+ bands here. Not too shabby, eh? Hearing those songs from Perserverance really brought out the teenager in me, and man, I used to enjoy shows so much more back in those days! It wasn’t all nostalgia though, the songs from Supremacy and their other albums managed to hold their own as well. So there you have it: if you liked Hatebreed, past or present, it was a good show, and if you don’t like Hatebreed, you weren’t there anyway. My only complaint about the show was that the sound was too loud but without any real oomph. It was like being screamed at whereas it should have been like getting punched in the face.

Speaking of getting hit in the face, the most interesting part of the show happened when I ignored not one, not two, but three important Halloween safety tips: 1) Don’t wear masks that impair your vision. 2) Don’t wear masks that have metal bits on the inside. 3) Don’t head bang in said masks. Violating these three little rules led to some, uh, misfortune. And by misfortune, I mean smashing my face into the back of someone’s head (what the hell was he doing in my banging zone?) and badly bruising and cutting the bridge of my nose. For days later, whenever I would move my nose or something would touch it, I would first wince in pain and then laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole incident.

Highlight: Being the only idiot to show up to a metal/hardcore concert on the 28th of October in a Halloween costume.

[Tune into Turn Down The Suck every Monday from 6-8pm.]