Sammy Reigns Supreme

I'm sure you've had this happen to you:
You have a memory of something being amazing, of that thing being the absolute best version of itself that it possibly could have been. Then you get the chance to experience it again-- You know it can't possibly be as good, that you must have been over-exaggerating its greatness in your mind, and so you prepare yourself to be disappointed- well maybe not disappointed, but maybe you lower your expectations so as to avoid disappointment. Then, THEN, you get to experience it and you think to yourself "What the hell was I on? This thing is just as freakin amazing as I remember it being!" For some that thing might be an old movie, it might be grandma's chocolate cake, or a roller coaster you used to ride as a kid...

For me that thing is seeing Sam Roberts Band live in concert.

I love Sam Roberts. Not in some creepy I-want-to-have-his-babies kind of way, just in the good old fashioned band-crush I-want-to-watch-him-sing-all-the-time-forever kind of way. The first time I saw Sam Roberts band perform was the moment I truly fell in love with music. It was at The Kee to Bala, up near my cottage and it was the summer after We Were Born in a Flame had just come out. I hadn't liked "Brother Down" at all-  I thought "Don't Walk Away Eileen was pretty good - but mostly I just loved the idea of going to see a concert up at the cottage (in the same venue my uncles had gone to see shows when they were teenagers...) and Sam Roberts was the only act playing who I had vaguely heard of, so I convinced my best friend to go with me.

Walking into The Kee was the first time I ever felt at home in a concert venue. Everyone was wearing flip flops and sweatpants, their hair still wet from swimming or stuffed under a hat so they didn't have to worry about washing it. When the opener came on stage (Danny Michel if I remember correctly) it became quickly apparent that the building was equally as 'cottagy' (aka shakey- a boat house whose floor all but literally bows when everyone jumps...) and I was already loving it. By the time Sammy finished the first song I was having the time of my life. In all honestly, the only downside is that every time I am about to see Sam Roberts Band play live I think "This can't possibly live up to that first time at The Kee..."

Then I am proven wrong.
Every. Single. Time.

Sam Roberts is the most consistently awesome band I have ever, and likely will ever, have the privilege to see perform live. Hands Down. Hells, I know several people who don't even like Sam Roberts who will drop everything to see them play! They can take a room-full of people who would normally never even be in the same section of town, and turn them into a mob of like-minded singing and dancing happy-people in the time it takes to sing one chorus of "Where have all the good people gone."  A soccer mom, a punk with a mohawk, a hipster teenager, a twelve year old kid, a biker dude, a square dad, and everyone in between. Why? Because they are SO. GOOD. LIVE.

Tonight I saw Sam Roberts Band at The National Arts Centre, here in Ottawa. I usually don't have the highest opinion of theatre venues for concerts- not the kinds of concerts I enjoy anyways- but Sam Roberts Band took the normal weirdness of rock-bands-in-theatre-settings and just threw it out the window. Threw it out the window and stomped on it while playing incessantly amazing guitar riffs. As usual.

I had my classic "Oh man, I forgot how much I love Nuge [Dave Nugent, the guitarist]!" moment a few seconds into the first song (it happens every time. EVERY TIME. I have no idea how I always forget about it, but I do. Its quite an odd habit...) and it just continued to get better from there. They rocketed through raucous and infinitely spectacular renditions of "Detroit 67," "Brother Down," "Them Kids," and my all time favourite "Dead End," (to name but a few) while slower ones like "Taj Mahal" and "Uprising Down Under" (which I don't think I've heard him perform live in at least five or six years... ) provided us with moments in which to catch our breath between the otherwise-non-stop dancing (despite being at the front of an incredibly INCREDIBLY high balcony. That's just the power of SRB, they are so good that they make you forget about the very real possibility of death via falling off of a balcony while dancing your feet off...).

Speaking of dancing, I also feel it necessary to mention the spectacular fancy footwork of Mr Dave Nugent. Its always a daunting task to share a stage with someone as charismatic as Sam Roberts, but Nuge always manages to steal my attention for a good portion of the show. His absorbing guitar playing, and enthusiastically sweaty shuffle punctuate the mid-song jam-sessions in the best possible way. The very few moments when I find my attention wandering (usually maybe once or twice per performance, often near the end of a particularly long instrumental break) I just direct my gaze stage left and am immediately drawn back into the action. I'm not someone who inherently finds guitar playing intriguing, but I could watch Nuge play guitar All. Day. Long. He just so clearly loves what he is doing that you can't help but be drawn in. Next time you're at a Sammy show, take a moment and direct your attention nugewards- you won't be disappointed.

So-- fantastic musicianship, jam sessions that expertly walk the line between wall-of-sound and melodic goldmine, enthusiastic playing and charismatic singing- what else can I say? All the pieces are there, but its really the gestalt of the performance- the sum being so much more than its parts- that's the bread and butter of Sam Roberts Band live. Its the way everyone jumps to their feet the moment the band walks on stage. The way every single song feels like the best song of the night. The way you can't help but jump and dance around clapping your hands. The way Sam spends ten minutes at the end of the show shaking everyone's hands and thanking them for coming (Still! From the tiny hundred-person bars to Massey Hall and the NAC, he is STILL walking down the stage thanking people for coming. That's amazing, even for a Canadian!) The way everyone has an amazing time, the audience, the band, the ushers (yes, I saw you dancing in your vest and bow tie...)... even listening to a live performance now on my computer all of those things come through. When they're in front of an audience The Sam Roberts Band comes alive in a way that makes you realize what being alive means. And that's really something. That's Music with a capital 'M'.

-E

If you've never heard Sam Roberts Band LIVE take a listen to the CBC recording of their Massey Hall Performance last summer- though I have to warn you, you may have the sudden urge to check out the Sam Roberts touring schedule...

Tiny Chipmunks, Tiny Chipmunks Inside of My Heart

So at Folkfest last night I had an experience which has become strangely familiar to me over the course of the past few months- that of falling completely in love with the band playing on stage. At times its with a band I already adore (I am not sure that I am actually capable of explaining how much I feel about Elliott Brood...) or one I have never even heard of (hi Graveyard Train. Yes. You are crazy awesome.  Mostly Crazy. But also Awesome.) but it is a feeling that can be topped by very few things in life. Actually that statement is mostly assumption, as I am simply guessing that seeing your kid for the first time ought to feel better than falling in love with a band, but I would also not be surprised if it felt exactly the same... that's how much I love this feeling.

The most recent subject of my adoration (type two, the "never before heard of them" kind) is Punch Brothers. Its the mandolin, its the banjo, its the low voices, their olde tymey suits and their charming ways that combine to make a magical wonderfullness that makes me so excited that I sprinted from one end of the grounds to the complete opposite corner (in the middle of their set) to purchase a CD, then ran all the way back, missing only one song ( Rye Whiskey is a perfect example of a song of theirs that elicits such a response from/in me...).

And its not just an idea, its not just a feeling, its an actual physical response. I was trying to explain to El what I meant by that and this was the best I could do- their songs make me feel like there are tiny chipmunks running around inside of my heart. Like their little tiny hands are kneeding the inside of my chest, hugging and tugging at my heart strings. Crawling around in there like its where they belong, like they always live there, only they don't let me know it unless they're really really happy. I don't know if that makes any sense at all, but its exactly what it feels like, and it feels both wonderful and super weird all at once. It came out of my mouth, this explanation, and it seemed the only and most perfect time I have ever described the feeling.  And its a feeling I've had before. Its a feeling I've had about music (about certain bands or certain songs) for quite a while. About Sam Roberts, about the White Stripes, about the Decemberists and the Shins, but recently very often about Elliot Brood, Old Man Leudecke, Dry River Caravan and Graveyard Train. And so I found myself suddenly wondering; how why and HOW did it take me so long to realize that I love adore and LOVE bluegrass music!?! 

I am happy being someone who likes many different types of music (I would never say "I like all kind of music" cuz to me that's just something someone says if they don't really like music at all...) , but I always used to add the caveat "but not country, never country"- and that made me happy, I was ok with that as my definition of my sphere of music-liking. Except that it was never true. Big Wreck takes a lot from country, as did CCR, and The Lovin' Spoonful- all favourite bands of my youth. The first time I saw "Oh Brother Where Art Thou?" I did nothing but listen to the soundtrack for weeks... 'Jackson' by Johnny Cash has also been known to lodge itself into my skull and not let go... and don't even get me started on banjo- oh banjo! the most inexplicably sexy and wonderful instrument on the planet.

So I'm giving up another part of who i thought I was, taking on yet another thing that the teenage me would have not only scoffed at, but quite possibly never-spoken-to-me-again over- I no longer hate country music. Pop Country- the Carrie Underwoods and the Kenny Chesneys of the world- is still safely outside of my sphere of like, but prog-bluegrass, death-country and alt-country? I likes em. There I said it. How can I not admit to liking that makes my tiny heart chipmunks so happy?

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.