SLCR #171: The Dandy Warhols (May 23, 2012)

I was on the fence about this one. When I got corporate approval to attend a week-long conference in Dallas, I was pretty excited for the possibility of seeing some bands that don’t ever tour anywhere near me. Dallas is big, right? They must get all kinds of shows. Then I got on Pollstar, and discovered that I was seemingly there for Canadian Week. It was like they knew I was coming. I have nothing against Great Lake Swimmers, but they play Regina fairly regularly. And I DO have something against Theory Of A Deadman. That basically left the Dandy Warhols and Kristin Chenoweth, and while I liked GCB as much as the next guy (which probably isn’t a whole lot), I decided to opt for the band I vaguely knew.

Much like Kasabian, this was a case of me knowing a whole two of a band’s songs before the show. I also thought that going to the show might make Mika jealous, but it turns out that she only knew two songs too. The same two: Bohemian Like You and We Used To Be Friends. I got both songs from Feely back in the day, which means that it was way too long ago and I am a sad old man. Good songs, though.

I bought the ticket in advance and figured I’d go to the show if I felt like it and if a better option didn’t come along. The first few days in Dallas felt a bit isolating; much like in Regina (but on a much bigger scale, of course), downtown seemed to empty out at 5:00 p.m. The first night, I was lucky to find a Subway that stayed open until 7:30. I had resigned myself to evenings of pricey flaky hotel Wi-Fi, but after Wednesday’s presentations, I went exploring and saw some really pretty architecture (and had a kickass burger). Mood renewed, I decided to take in the show.

I knew the House of Blues was within walking distance, but not knowing the neighborhood, I opted for a $10 cab ride. I can live with that.

The restaurant part of the House of Blues was booked for a private function, so I didn’t get to see it. Instead, they sent us in through the back – which I suspect is normal if you’re going to shows there. I was really impressed by the venue; really good acoustics and sight lines. It was just generally an attractive place – and very cool (in the temperature sense, I mean). I’m not sure why, in the middle of a Canadian winter, I go to a show and I’m sweating in minutes, but Dallas can keep a club so cool that you almost wish you’d brought a sweater.

My experience with Dallas indicates that the Texans have mastered the fine art of air conditioning. In fact, I’d suggest that the hotel was a little overzealous; I saw one conference attendee on Twitter threaten to make herself a hobo blanket out of conference evaluation forms.

Other things Texans like: Dr. Pepper, spicy chips, lime-flavoured chips, spicy lime-flavoured chips, and referencing God at every opportunity. I have been blessed so many times, you have no idea. I had thought GCB was supposed to be satire but mayhaps it was a documentary? At any rate, after the first day, I switched my clock radio to a Top 40 station. I’d rather wake up to the racket that the kids listen to today than news stories about “abortion-inducing drugs” and “so-called gay marriage.” USA USA USA

Anyway. Enough filler and editorializing. Our opening band was called 1776, or at least I assume they weren’t Seventeen Seventy-Six. I am not going to pay airplane Wi-Fi fees in order to do research and resolve this issue. I had been prepared to say “generic rock band with 80s metal haircuts,” but damned if they weren’t kinda catchy. I sense some potential in these ones. They closed with a cover of Aerosmith’s Train Kept A-Rollin’, which left me with a big smile on my face. That song was in one of the early Guitar Heroes and it had a reputation among my friends for coming up “randomly” about every third song. Not only did that amuse, but this was easily 1776′s best song of the evening. I would have liked to see a bit of that energy in their originals.

As far as I knew, The Dandy Warhols had a few hits some years ago and then kinda disappeared. That’s what happens when you rely on Feely for your new music – he eventually finds better things to do with his time and you just assume that nobody is making new songs anymore. But here they were, with a bunch of CDs I’d never heard (including a brand new one) and a club packed with fans. And there had evidently been more hits that I didn’t know about, since we got the requisite moments where they’d play a few notes and everyone would go bonkers and I’d be all “…yeah! Notes!”

Halfway through their first song, a girl pulled me aside and asked if they’d played (Song I’ve Never Heard Of). I told her that this was their first song, and I have never seen such delight. She disappeared into the crowd soon after; I hope they played whatever it was.

I do know they played We Used To Be Friends right near the opening, and Bohemian Like You right before the end. In between, there was a nice mix of tunes that I could try to describe, but really, why bother? Some songs were fast and energetic and some were slow; see also: pretty much every show ever.

I couldn’t understand the words for many of the songs, but that may have been by design. There were times when the lead singer would belt things out and other times he seemed big into mumbling.

He was also left by himself for two songs when everyone else went to take a pee break. Amusingly, they later said “can we just count these last two songs as the encore to save us the effort of leaving and coming back?” This is exactly what they did, and it is a practice I highly endorse. It feels so much less phony on everyone’s part.

The band seemed to have a good time in general. Apart from the usual talk about what a great crowd we were and what a great place this was, there was something going on at the front of the stage. I don’t know what someone in the crowd was doing or wearing or whatever, but the band ordered the house lights raised so they could take a picture of it. They seemed greatly amused. And not “greatly abused” like AutoCorrect tried to have you believe.

I had a good time too! But I think the guy who had the best time was the middle-aged man standing directly in front of me. (By “middle-aged,” I mean the guy was probably my age but I’ve held on to my hair a little better. God, I’m old.) This dude was clearly a diehard fan. He clapped (off beat) and sang (off key) and danced (if you want to call it that) and at one point said “time to drop some acid!” in a way that left me thinking that he’s not entirely sure what acid is. I think he might believe that one drops acid by adding a base in order to neutralize it. But whatever; this dude seemingly had the time of his life (his wife, maybe less so) and enthusiasm like that can’t help but spread.

Following the show, a nice House of Blues employee kindly directed me to a cab. And I did need direction, since I had absolutely no idea where he was pointing to. Silly tourist. In Texas, cabs park… along the side of the road just like they do everywhere else. I blame fatigue and cultural ignorance. Everything’s bigger in Texas, including my confusion.

SLCR #170: The Joel Plaskett Emergency (April 20, 2012)

Poor neglected middle child. I wrote the Dandy Warhols review on the plane earlier today since it was freshest in my mind. The Kasabian review has been 4/5ths done for over a month, so I tuned it up and finished it off next. And then there’s this show, one about which I had very strong opinions at the time. I wonder if I can remember any of them?

With this show, two months of rapid-fire concerts came to close. It didn’t go exactly as planned; Kathleen Edwards had some issues with her voice and postponed her show until October, and I missed out on both Whitehorse and Electric Six due to work being work. These disappointments were mitigated by a killer Ben Folds show and Kasabian, Michael Bernard Fitzgerald, and John K. Samson far exceeding my expectations. All in all, it’s been a good run.

Mika picked me up at work so we could skip town in a timely fashion. If Joel Plaskett won’t come to Mika, she will go to him. I am fine with this, since I dig Plaskett quite a bit, and I’m always down for a road trip and road trip snacks (but let this review document that no matter how many times I try them, Combos are never a good idea).

We made it to Louis’, my old stomping grounds, with plenty of time to spare. This would have been awesome if it didn’t mean lining up outside in the cold. I think it was cold? Maybe even drizzly? I have no idea. What did YOU do in the evening 36 days ago?

They eventually let us in, where we scanned the stuff table before meeting up with Laura and Heather and Heather’s friend Heather. Or was Heather’s friend also named Laura? I think she was Heather. I know it was a repeat and she wasn’t named Mika or James. We found a good (or so we thought) standing spot near the bar on the far side from the doors.

Our opening act was Frank Turner. I knew nothing about him, but one of Laura’s friends went to the show specifically to see him. And then a few days before the show, I was reading an interview with WWE wrestler Daniel Bryan, who singled out Turner as a musician that he was really enjoying these days. With these two endorsements from people I don’t know and whose musical tastes I know nothing about, I was hopeful. But even my heightened expectations were exceeded, as Turner, playing by himself, tore the house down.

Not everyone went into this set as ignorant as I; there was a small but very vocal contingent who were thrilled to see Frank Turner and who sang along with every song. Turner seemed genuinely surprised that there were people here who knew his songs; he fed off their energy and they fed off his. I was a convert well before the end of his set, and once he was done, I muscled y way over to the stuff table to pick up the two albums he had for sale.

Muscle was needed as Louis’ was packed. The show sold out well before the day, and it felt like it. Joel Plaskett has always done well in Saskatoon and this was no exception. Really, I would have preferred to see him in a larger venue, which is not how I usually feel after a show.

This was the last show at Louis’ before it shuts down for renovations. It feels like only yesterday that they were closed for months to get rid of the dank. I assume that’s what they’re doing again, as the dank was back with a vengeance. Sure, it still looked like new Louis’, all metallic and angular and generally poorly suited to hosting concerts, but it smelled like raw sewage. Intermittently at first, but increasing as the evening went on. This did not enhance the concert experience.

And sadly, it was a concert experience that could have used some enhancing. About a half- hour in, I was ready to take off. Between the date (4:20) and the fact that we were on a campus bar at the end of finals, we were surrounded by the loudest, stinkiest, most obnoxious collection of drunks and stoners that you ever did see. I do not want to smell your stale-smoke dreadlocks. I do not want to be spilled upon or shoved. I did not pay to hear you shrieking along with the band.

So yeah, I spent a good part of the show fantasizing about knifing everyone in sight, burning the place down, tweeting snark, etc. It’s a testament to how good Joel Plaskett really is that I managed to enjoy the music despite it all. It was a standard concert setlist – heavy emphasis on the new record with enough old favorites to keep people entertained. It was my first opportunity to hear the new stuff and I quite enjoyed it. Highlights included a very extended version of Love This Town, several songs with lyrics changed to be about Saskatoon, and – of course – a toy monkey with cymbals. Joel had the monkey wired up so he could turn it on and off with a foot pedal, which he called the best $70 he’d ever spent. I can see why; I mean, I want one and I don’t even have a stage to decorate.

SLCR #169: Kasabian (April 7, 2012)

Upon second viewing, the University LRT station has very clear directional signs, and I only took the wrong train on the way back from The Cat Empire because I’m a dumbass. “These things happen, especially to me” definitely still applies, though.

I started this text file over a month ago and the paragraph above would have worked a lot better had I sent this review out the day after the last one instead of six weeks later. I had good intentions. I also had work being work and keeping me there all hours again. Mind you, I also had DrawSomething and Words With Friends and Scramble With Friends and Jetpack Joyride and (most recently) Prose With Bros. Maybe I’ll play a real video game someday.

I used up most of my standard filler to set the scene for the last review, so this one might be short. I have made my peace with this. Besides, I really need to get this review thing off my conscience.

What I know about Kasabian: about twice as much as what I know about The Cat Empire, in so far as I knew TWO of their songs. Club Foot is in Rock Band, and Days Are Forgotten was used for some WWE pay-per-view last fall. She’s much better than I am when it comes to recognizing and remembering songs, but I still find it hilarious that Mika remembered this and I did not. When I looked it up online, I had no recollection of ever hearing it before. Apparently, their song Fast Fuse was used for a WWE show a few years before. I didn’t remember that either. Songs Are Forgotten.

Having used the previous night’s show as a Calgary Transit trial run, I got the timing down perfect and made it to the MacEwan Centre with just enough time to buy the new Kasabian CD, Velociraptor!, and find a place to stand and play my DrawSomething words. The venue layout had changed a bit from the night before, as there was no seating area this time. Essentially, it was a big warehouse with no chairs.

Our opening act was Hacienda, and I am struggling to even finish off this sentence. They were the quintessential opening act, in that I had never heard of them before, I never once thought “I dislike this,” and I never once thought “I need to hear more of this.” They played for their half-hour and it was fine. I feel like I’ve written this paragraph 50 times before with different band names. I wonder if I could make up my own Mad Libs to speed up future review writing.

Before the opener, as I was on my way to an empty piece of wall I could lean against, I ran into a friend from work, which is not something you expect when you’re 500 miles from home. We had a bit of a chance to chat between sets, which was nice. I have no real problem attending shows by myself (even if, as in the case of The Cat Empire, it does take away from the overall experience), but it was good to see someone I could talk to for a bit.

In England, Kasabian sells out arenas and headlines festivals. In Canada, they play chairless warehouses, but their big-stage history shone through. Sometimes too brightly, as it appeared that they brought their arena lighting kit with them and occasionally it hurt. The stage also featured a banner showing the artwork from their newest CD, which looks like four Whiplashes – you know, Whiplash, the He-Man character from 30 years ago – in a circle all eating each other.

Like I said, I really wasn’t that familiar with them, so I couldn’t tell you what they played. I got the two songs I knew, but I enjoyed everything else as well. It was loud and fast and fun from start to finish. I’ve been listening to that CD, and it’s not bad or anything, but doesn’t compare to the live show.

Although speaking of the finish, I will say that the show ended on an odd note. You know the normal routine: the band ends with a hit song, they really give ‘er for the finish, they leave, everyone cheers, they come back and play a few more. But at the end of Kasabian’s set, they just wandered off, one by one. It was the opposite of a big climax – an anti-climax, if you will – and the crowd wasn’t sure what to make of it. Despite the crowd going nuts for the whole show, there was very little reaction when it was over. I think people really just didn’t get that the main show was done. And then there was more of the same after the encore. It didn’t wreck the show, by any stretch, but it was a slightly confusing end to what had been a fantastic show.

Feistodon!

Living where we do, I never get to participate in Record Store Day goodness. We just don’t have any shops that participate, in our sad little town. So Mike said he’d get me the exclusive Springsteen 7″ from this go-round (which he did, should be here soon). And then James told me about Feistodon. At first, I thought he was kidding. Feist and Mastodon, covering each others’ songs? No way! Stop pulling my leg! Well, there was no leg pulling. It exists!

The call went out. I NEEDED THAT 7″! No one found it in shops, but I managed to find a copy online, and for a whole lot less cost than most places were gouging people for it. Score!

It arrived yesterday. It is beautiful. Sadly, the tape on the cardboad packaging in which it was sent to me was a rushed job, and a corner of the sleeve was protruding when it arrived. There is a small scratch on the record, but it plays OK. 

And the music? It’s pretty damn interesting.

Side A finds Mastodon roaring through Feist’s song A Commotion. Jeez, Brann, I don’t think you hit your drums often enough! So awesome. I played the original version off Metals first, and Feist’s version is a quirky, clunky little track of oddness (with her vocals pasted over the top of it all). Mastodon lets the bottom drop out, turning the song into this chugging thing that, quite frankly, gives it a whole lot more life. Nothing wrong with Feist’s song, but Mastodon proved it could easily be a metal song. Metals, indeed.

Side B is Feist covering Mastodon’s Black Tongue, the first track off The Hunter. We all know that the original track kicks all sorts of ass. Feist’s take on it strips away a lot of the hugeness of the track and gone are the thundering drums and full-on metal sound. In its place is a single phase-shifter guitar (did I get the terminology correct?), a slower tempo, and Feist singing the lyrics with her trademark sound. I liked it. It was hard to hear it this way, knowing the original as well as I do, but Feist’s stab at it makes it into something wholly other, and I like that.

Feistodon. Get you some. It’s all kinds of awesome.

Kurt Must Be Spinning

Walking through our local grocery store a couple of nights ago. As always, I was pretty attuned to the muzak playing over the speakers in the ceiling. It was a lot of shitty-sounding shit.

And then they played Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Not a muzak version. The album version from Nevermind. And at a really low, unobtrusive volume, too. 

Yeah, I’m sure Kurt meant for his song to be played while your Grandma chooses her vegetables.

Fuck.

 

Hey Blue Rodeo! Which Is It?

One thing has always bugged me, Blue Rodeo.

Your classic I LOVE IT album is called Five Days In July.

Your song, the first track on that same album (and a BRILLIANT song it is), is called Five Days In MAY.

July. May.

LeBrain says they named it with July ‘cos that’s the month in which they recorded the album. James didn’t know, but guessed that maybe they needed to drop a syllable while recording the song? I don’t accept “artistic license” as an answer. That’s like saying “g-d works in mysterious ways,” which is a cop-out for not knowing, the religious equivalent of that old parental chesnut “go ask your mother.”

I have no guesses. But I know this conundrum has driven me crazy for the longest time.

So c’mon Blue Rodeo, which is it?

RIP Adam Yauch

The Universe is askew. One of the Beastie Boys is gone. It’s just not right.

Too soon. WAY too soon.

We will miss you, Adam.