The Live-Music Experience

I feel like those who say that live music is not worthwhile have just never been to the right kind of concert… Because there are bad ones- concerts I mean- there are those at which the musicians just don’t seem to want to be there, those where the audience is too cool to sing along, and those which, worst of all, have so little substance that even the most adamant fan of live music feels had….

But then there are the right concerts. The ones where everyone is bopping with all of their heart(s). Where you become temporary-best-friends with the dude beside you because you both got super excited about the same song. Where the guy with the guitar stomps around stage shaking his head to the music, not because he thinks it looks cool (which is good, because it looks like pretty much the antithesis of cool), but because he is having such a good time that he just can’t help it. Someone who has never been to one of these concerts, someone who has never had this kind of experience, how can we expect them to understand? And how can we not do everything in our power to help them have said wonderful, magical, ‘right concert’ experience?

Actually, I should pause here and mention that the difficulty with this is that these ‘right’ concerts are not the same concerts for everyone. Therein lies the rub. For one person their ‘right’ concert might be Goldfinger at a giant outdoor festival complete with a mosh pit full of people with safety-pins through their faces.  For someone else it might be Sarah Slean in a little tiny pub where people sit on the floor because there aren’t enough chairs. Heck, one person could count both of those experiences as the right kind of concert for them (I should know, those were two of my favourite concerts ever…)! Its difficult to pinpoint what makes a concert ‘right’ but over the years I have come to believe that they all have the flowing things in common:

1) Enthusiasm! From the audience and from the performers. Of course enthusiasm on both parts is the best case scenario, but a not-so-great band can get energy from an awesome audience and end up having a killer show, as can a so-so audience take their cue from an amazingly into-it band and turn into the most participatory group of people ever… Some bands may be known for being energetic and enthusiastic on stage- but audiences can also have a rep! Which bring us to-

2) Venue! Certain places have reputations for having great audiences, and certain others have the knack for attracting kill-joys. Anywhere where the audience regularly seems to be more interested in what they look like than the music onstage is to be avoided at all costs.  My absolute, bar none, favourite venue is The Kee, in Bala. Its in the middle of cottage country so everyone is relaxed and chill. Concert-goers arrive dressed in sweatpants and flip flops, their skin rosy with sunburn and hair in the laziest wind-styled do. Plus it’s a boathouse. The whole place is over the water, so when everyone gets a rockin’ the walls and floor rock right along with you. Too awesome.

3) Familiarity! This one is not so hard and fast, but knowing most or at least some of the songs is almost always important to your concert-going experience. Study-up! Listen to the CD a few times in the weeks approaching the performance. Have your friend put some of the band’s stuff on your ipod. Being familiar with the music always makes the experience more enjoyable… Having said that, one of the most captivating concerts I ever went to was the first time I saw Arcade Fire. I had never heard of them (nor had anyone else at the time. It was early days- pre-Funeral- they were still selling their EP in plastic envelopes with a hand-printed placemat as the liner notes…), and I didn’t know any of their songs. But by the end of the second number I was dancing and singing along (albeit just making vague tuneful noises rather than actual words), absolutely captivated by their performance. A band can definitely sweep you off your feet without you knowing any of their music- Its just more likely to happen if you go into it with a few lyrics in your back pocket!

4) Good Company! Pick your concert-going partners wisely my friends… Don’t choose someone who only listens to Eminem if you’re going to see Elliot Brood. Contrary-wise a Cuff The Duke fan might not be the right person with whom to attend a Less Than Jake soirée… Try to find someone who is as enthusiastic about the band you’re about to see as you are. This goes both ways- going to a concert with a super-fan when you only kind of like the band is not any more fun than going to see your favourite group with someone who only likes their latest single… If its an obscure band or you just don’t know anyone who knows who they are, think about who they remind you of- who do you know who likes similar sounding bands? Maybe they’ll end up with a new favourite artist! Finally, as a last resort, ask someone who finds your love of the applicable band to be entertaining (note: finds it entertaining, not annoying, stupid or embarrassing!)- who will enjoy poking fun at you all night (as you are busy singing your heart out) and who will come away having had a good time without making you feel like too much of an idiot.

5) The Right Band! This is one of the most important yet most variable factors. What you need is a band (or performer!) who makes music that makes you feel something extremely muchly. Makes you feel super happy, or super creative, or super energetic, or super pumped… even super melancholia (Oh Decemberists, how your sea shanties make my heart weep…).  A reputation for being awesome live never hurts, and is possible regardless of genre (I have never known Arcade Fire, Sam Roberts, Elliot Brood, AC/DC, Paul McCartney, The Decemberists, or Great Big Sea, to disappoint!).  The right band makes for the right concert almost every time…

As a final thought, be open to any of these factors occurring out of the blue and you will find yourself having way more ‘right’ concert experiences. If you suddenly realize that you love a country-esque band, don’t shy away from going to see them just because you ‘don’t like country!’ Tastes change over time. Your perfect high school concert might totally beat-up your perfect university concert if they met in a bar, but it doesn’t mean you can’t love them both equally!

Spread the love, man. Spread the love.

 

PS i have recently discovered that Sam Roberts and Elliot Brood played a Labour Day show at the Kee last year (as in 2010) and I missed it. Luckily I was in Halifax at the time, so I had a real actual reason for not knowing about it, but come ON! that would have been my all time favourite concert ever. Seriously. EVER. Maybe its better that I didn't go as no other concert would have ever lived up to that one... yeah I'm goin' with that. ..

The Quiet Epicness of the In-Between

I get weird things stuck in my head. Okay, plain ol' songs = not so weird. But getting phrases stuck on repeat in my brain seems to be somewhat more unusual... It all started in grade five with 'Help I've fallen and I can't get up!' and has progressed from there. The latest? "Willie, Why did you give me campylobacter!?!" It just comes out of nowhere, and I start giggling to myself and everyone thinks I've gone bonkers... thank you John Green.

Hybridized-songs is another favourite category- I have one going on in there and it just morphs into another- then of course I can't hear either of those two songs without hearing my mash-up version instead. The other day I was singing I Could Never Be Your Woman by Whitetown to myself, complete with clarinet/synth riff sung in doo doo dee doos .... when somewhere along the line it turned into the death-star theme from Star Wars! Now I am aware (from the reactions of friends I was with at the time) that no one finds this as entertaining as I do, but its just so unusual to get startled by something that's in your own head... how could I not find it hilarious? Alright, now I really am starting to sound like a crackpot...

Aaaaaanyways, what I actually meant to be talking about is the more pleasant phenomenon of a stuck-in-your-head-song reminding you of something you haven't heard in years, prompting you to re-listen to a long forgotten but much beloved tune. I have recently been chain-listening to There May be Ten or Twelve by A.C. Newman. The absolutely lovely lyrics and the slightly epic musical arrangement are awesome in and of themselves, but they also very very very much remind me of Oysrterband's album Holy Bandits.

Now I'm not a huge fan of Celtic music -I'm sure I've mentioned before that I love bagpipes but can't stand fiddles- but this lack of enthusiasm is easily trumped my love of Oysterband. Epic riffs, sad yet beautiful lyrics, pounding drums and haunting tunes that stay in your head for days... Re-listening to the CD reminds me not only of the time I spent in my fourth-year studio blaring 'Road to Santiago' (and having friends express confusion at the uncharacteristic Celtic-ness of the music) but also of the worlds to which I was always transported when listening to their songs. Not the philosophically-laced fairy tales of The Shins, nor the Grungy Detroit of The White Stripes, or even the Ontariario of Elliot Brood, but the vast in-between that rests somewhere betwixt the real and the imaginary, betwixt fable and fact.

A.C. Newman similarly creates this feeling of within. Of being, not a fly on the wall, but being actually in between the feelings and the words and emotions of the situation, floating in the invisible waters of intangibility. Such a short song, so few lyrics, but believe me, the feeling of epicness rivals that of Homer. And no I don't mean the cartoon one.

There May be Ten or Twelve by A.C. Newman

There are maybe ten or twelve
Things I could teach you
After that, well, I think you're on your own
And that wasn't the opening line
It was the tenth or the twelfth
Make of that what you will

Once there was a haunted loop
Of your deep, fallen tears
A forehead resting on a record shelf
Amid moving boxes stacked
I'm still waiting for the right words
Make of that what you will

And the eyes they were
A color I can't remember
Which says more than the first two verses
And it is the devil you know
That will slam the door harder
Make of that what you will

Home, Home, Hooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaame

I lived 'away' for quite a number of years- four provinces away from home for over ten years to be exact, and I never stopped longing for that feeling of being where you're 'supposed' to be... Its great to travel, its great to see the world, and I could not be happier that I didn't just live in one place for my whole life, but there are places that feel 'right' and places that just don't, and the longer you live in one of those 'just don't' places, the sadder you feel.

Music was always the most difficult thing for me- on the east coast its all about fiddles and bagpipes- now don't get me wrong, I love me some bagpipes (especially piobaireachd) but east coast music is just not the same as music from Ontariario... I missed the experience of going to concerts, I missed the summer festivals and the accessibility of it all, but more than anything it was the overwhelming feeling that got all stirred up in me when I listened to a home-town band.

There was many a time driving home from work when a song would come on and have me in tears of homesickness, but no band was more responsible for these occurrences as Elliot Brood. I thought that I could pinpoint it to a song (for a long time I thought it was just Oh Alberta) but as I listened to more and more of their music, I realized that there is just something about it that screams home for me. Something about the sound and the lyrics and the enthusiasm and the unabashed love for where they live that jumps out and grabs me by the intestines. There are bands that are like this about many places, Old Man Luedeke will forever symbolize the South Shore to me,  just as the Decemberists practically scream Portland, but I'm not from the South Shore or Portland, I'm from Ontario, and Elliot Brood captures that feeling of Ontario Home like no other band I know.

The other day The Valley Town came on the radio. This time the opening banjo chord, the building complexities and the rousing chorus at the end made my heart soar instead of making me homesick. I don't know how they do it, or even what they're doing, I'm just happy to be able to experience it where I'm meant to be. Home.

Sam Roberts Does Massey Hall OR How on Earth Do People Sit During Concerts?

How do people sit at concerts? No really, HOW DO PEOPLE SIT AT CONCERTS!?!?!?
I'm not talking about the symphony or the opera, okay okay I understand how people sit at those type of concerts, I mean how do you sit at a rock concert? How? How do you feel the bass and sing along, and not stand up? I am baffled- As apparently also were several other concert-goers at last night's Sam Roberts show at Massey Hall... more on that in a moment...

Sam Roberts was one of my first concert loves. Sam Roberts at the Key to Bala. I think that was the first time I fell in love with a concert, the first time I felt like i was on the moon afterward. Cuz Sam Roberts- he is good live. What I mean is, he is GOOD live. I mean GOOD. I challenge you to see him live and not enjoy it. Seriously. My friend El doesn't really even like him on CD, but will drop everything to see him in concert. Its the energy! I know that sounds all lame and hippy-dippy, but its really the only way to describe it- The Sam Roberts Band have great energy on stage. They always look like they're having the time of their lives, they sing/play their hearts out, the sweat everywhere (you say 'gross', I say 'sexy') and they sound GOOD.

I've lost count of how many times I've seen them live (Once three times in four days...! OK, ok, I was going through a bit of a Sam Roberts phase...) but they never disapoint. And neither do the fans. There are many things I love about a Sam Roberts show, but the fans have gotta be right up there. The most random people love Sam Roberts. Seven year olds love Sam Roberts. Hard-core punks love Sam Roberts. Hippies with dreadlocks down to their knees love Sam Roberts. And those who love him LOVE him. No really, LOVE him, and don't care who knows it.

Last nights show was no exception. Now I should likely start off by saying that  I haven't seen Sam Roberts play in a few years, and he did not disappoint even one little bit (the addition of a horn section just made it that much better), but I did go through the all-familiar concert psych-out before it started. You know, the I-haven't-seen-this-band-in-a-while-and-I-used-to-love-them-so-much-I-hope-I-am-not-just-gonna-be-disappointed psych out? Yeah, you never have to worry about that with Sammy. Everything I remembered about their shows was upheld with remarkable intergrity. What I did, hoever, forget, whas how entertaining the other fans were.

Casein point: sitting down.

Exhibit A) The soccer Mom. Older Lady, balcony, tight tan pants and an overly flowery shirt. Very excited. standing. Did not care at all that no one else around her was (apparently people think being in the balcony means you shouldn't stand up... bollocks. Stand up.). Awesome.

Exhibit B) Dude with the mohawk and dirty white tank top. totally opposite end of the standing-spectrum. He was standing. He was clapping. He was singing along (which in and of itself was super entertaining), and he was having none of anyone also not doing those three things. At one point he literally ran down the aisle, took another guy by the shoulders and started making him dance. Again, Awesome.

Alright so maybe I'm not exhibit A or B (not on the outside anyways...) but I secretly would love to be either of them (or both!) because here's the thing... ok I have no thing, I have no big eloquent reason, just a feeling. Just a feeling that if you're sitting down at a rock concert, you are missing out.

So here is a simple rule: If you can feel the bass, you should be standing up. Done.

The Honesty of 90s Lead-Singer Rock 'Dancing'

I am an 80s kid, I lip-synced to Madonna and Fresh Prince at sleepovers, I wore neon legwarmers, and I crimped my hair. I watched Sunday morning cartoons and was scarred by Bowie's pants in Labyrinth.  I loved Return of the Jedi best based solely on the Ewoks.

I was a kid in the 80s. But I was a teenager in the 90s, and that's when I fell in love with music.

Recently my room-mate and I went on a 90s-music-video-binge. On this particular occasion it was sparked by the mention of Train's first-time-around hit Meet Virginia, and how much better it was than their recent Hey Soul Sister. Now admittedly this opinion is largely based on Meet Virginia having a time and a place for us, a sense of nostalgia, but it is also because the lead singer just looks creepy in the newer video! No, its not because he is older, its not because he looks like a messed-up version of Uncle Jesse on Full House, its because of his dancing.

Despite their recent rebirth, Train is a 90s band. The lead singer is a 90s singer. He should dance like he's a 90s singer in a 90s band, not all choreographed and slow and smooth! The 90s, especially Alternative Rock in the 90s, was not about smooth dance moves (unless you were the Backstreet Boys, whose dance moves were... well slightly more smooth I guess?). 90s Alternative Rock 'Dancing' was all about the grab-the-mic-walk-back-and-forth. Simple? Sure. Kinda dumb looking? Usually. Honest? Most definitely. These guys were singers, not spokesmen, not fashion models, not marketing creations. They were there to sing- not the most groundbreaking, innovative, creative songs in the world, but songs that were about what they were about. Songs about speeding down the highway, songs about recreational drug use, songs about breakin' up and feelin' bad about it. Songs about life. Average, everyday, un-choreographed life.

That's what everyone says right- about the music of their generation? That it was so much more honest, so much more awesome, so much more than 'this crap kids listen to now-a-days.' Except that that's not what I'm saying at all- I like much of the music 'kids listen to now-a-days,' in fact I absolutely adore quite a lot of it! Kate Nash wasn't around when I was a teenager, nor were the Decemberists. Most of the bands I listen to hadn't even met each other pre-2000. But most of them are also magical- they tap into the deeper unseen bits of the dust of the universe and turn it into melancholia, beautiful, and heart-pounding odes to the wonder of everything. That is not what 90s music was about. It was about Rock. It was about fast driving, and parties, and stealin' your best friend's girl. It was about being a 90s teenager, even if you weren't a teenager like that at all.

And it was about honest dancing. It was about mosh pits and jumping and waving your hands in the air while you got covered in sweat that wasn't yours, and ducked so you didn't get an errant shoe in the face. You can see it in all kinds of 90s music videos (from back when Much Music actually still played music videos...), the kinds of videos teenyboppers like Miley Cyrus and Justin Beiber try to replicate all the time. Promise by eve6, Third Eye Blind's Semi-Charmed Life, or The Oaf by Big Wreck all fit the bill- awkward rock dudes with guitars (or basses) stomping around, grabbing their mic stands, taking two steps forward and two steps back, singing their hearts out, lookin' kinda dumb and surprisingly sexy.

Maybe it isn't super-innovative. Maybe it isn't magical, or beautiful or awe-inspiring. But it is honest. Simple, straightforward, and honest. Its my music as much as any of what I listen to now, and I still love it every bit as much as I did back then. Which is a lot.

Soul-Time-Sing-A-Long

I love to sing along with songs. You know this about me (and possibly about yourselves!) though I don't think I wrote that quite properly... it should read:

I LOVE to sing along with songs!!! 

There are many things that make me happy, but this would be top five, maybe even top three.... actually more like top two. I love it so very very much. Very much.

There is something about singing in the car specifically.... in the summer, windows rolled down, driving way over the speed limit, with the music so loud your ears are ringing and singing so loudly that your voice goes hoarse (I actually once sang so enthusiastically to 'Bicycle Race' by Queen while on the way to work that I lost my voice and had to write things down for the whole day...) and I can't even put into words how much joy this brings me. I have tried on several occasions and just never seem to be able to quite capture it... However, on a recent road-trip I re-heard one of my all time favourite songs (I'm not afraid to admit it, its uber 90s alternative, and not exactly the most profound thing ever, but I can't help it, it speaks to my soul!) and was reminded of all of the things I love about singing in the car. As cheese as it is, this experience is so fully encapsulated in Open Road Song that I feel the need to block-quote it...

"I crack a window and feel the cool air cleanse my every pore, as I pour my poor heart out to a radio song that's patient and willing to listen, my volume drowns it out. Yeah but that's okay, 'cuz I sound better than him anyway, any day. Yeah my voice is sweet as salt. I search for comfort and I find it where I found it many times before, though times before can be forgotten..."

Its the singing-along part! The you-drowning-out-the-music part!  The finding-comfort-in-pouring-your-heart-out part!

Back in high school all of my car-songs needed to be of a certain type to be able to 'work'- loud, fast, rock. Thats's what car music was to me, but my car-music tastes have broadened vastly in the interim... From Sons and Daughters by the Decemberists to Valley Town by Elliott Brood they have widened to include songs that paint sweeping vistas, that use intricate harmonies and gut-grabbing melodies, not just those that are loud and fast. And yet the all important lyrical factor has remained unchanged. I know many people who would disagree with me on this, but lyrics are as important to a song as the melody, the production values, or the instruments its played on.

I sing along with songs. You need good lyrics to sing along to, and I need to sing along for a song to be real to me. Singing along is how songs seep into my soul and become an inseparable part of me. Its how they transport me in time (Semi-Charmed Life), its how they make me homesick (Oh Alberta), its how they make my heart burst (Wake Up)...

Two of my current favourites are Ghosts by Laura Marling and Gentleman by Said the Whale. Neither are all epic, neither are all loud, neither are what one might call all hard-core... but both have absolutely sweet and beautiful lyrics that melt my insides when I hear them and even more so when I sing along.

Whether the song is quietly beautiful or heart-thumpingly exciting- that feeling of flying down the open road, singing at the top of your lungs.... perfection.

Melancholia and Music

Sometimes its nice to feel sad. Not usually, usually its not nice to feel sad. Usually something happens, there's some sequence of events that makes it feel like your life is spinning out of control or like you just don't know what to do... Something immensely personal and upsetting gets you down and you just can't run away from it, because its inside of you. Sometimes what makes you sad isn't inside of you, its not something you can run away from, but it is something that affects more than just you, something that seems bad now, but might be okay later on. And sometimes, every once in a while, its kind of nice to feel like life holds some sort of beautiful mystery that will always elude you, like all of the things that seem not-so-great will one day be revealed to be the self same things that led to wonderment and joy.

I'm not good with definitions. I tend to make up my own very specific meanings for words and be willing to argue them 'till the cows come home ("an ass is not a dork, nor is a knob the same thing as a dink" will take me long into the wee hours of the morning...). This is by way of saying that this second kind of sadness, this one-day-it-will-be-important-that-this-sadness-happened type of sadness is what I imagine melancholia to be. And this type of sadness, this melancholia has, of late, been captured for me in the beautiful song Oh My God by the Wooden Sky.

Hauntingly beautiful and quietly sad, its made me feel like crying my eyes out and smiling my face off all day long.  Thank you Canadian music, thank you small timey bands, thank you art for once again proving your awesomeness....