Stadium What? Mumford and Sons, what have you driven me to?

Mumford and Sons at the Bell Centre in Montreal. Seriously, The Bell Centre. This was weird. I haven't been to a stadium show since... since... have I ever? oh no wait, yes. So I haven't been to a stadium show since the Sky dome was still called the Sky Dome... for those of you too young to remeber that, thats because it was a looooong time ago...

Alright, technically I have been to many many stadium shows, but always when I was working them, so that means seeing the show from backstage, or more precisely, kind of onstage but just off to the side, like on the stairs or something. And that is pretty good. Sometimes really good (Pearl Jam hour-long encore of only songs from the 90s when I used to listen to them all of the time because my friend Oleana loved them more than air... definitely one of those 'How am I getting paid to be here!?!' moments). But seeing a stadium show from the audience is.... weird.

Most of the bands I like are Canadian. Some of them are respectably popular, Massey Hall type bands (Sam Roberts, Arcade Fire... ok maybe just those two) but most of them are still wee, with smaller, albeit fiercely loyal fans (Library Voices, Elliot Brood, Old Man Luedecke, Said The Whale, Cuff the Duke, B.A. Johnson, Karkwa, Final Fantasy, The Wooden Sky, the list goes on...). Most of the venues I frequent are small. Some very small. We're talking like 60-70 people here, some of the shows even only have a few dozen people in the crowd- and that usually makes them even better! Not because I have some big thing about not liking popular bands, but because it means you actually get to be close! You get to feel the bass pumping in your chest, you get the guitarist's sweat all over you, you get to be in the mosh pit, dancing and jumping along with everyone else there. You get to feel like a part of something. And thats what I love about seeing music live, feeling like a part of something.

In a stadium that feeling is just not there. You would think that having so many more people share in the experience would feel like even more of being a part of something. I went to my first NHL game a few weeks ago and definitely felt like a part of something, but for some reason the concert-going stadium just isn't the same. Maybe its because they're putting on a show. They're not playing [a game of hockey or a song] they're putting on  a  show. And its kinda weird.

Having said that, Mumford and Sons did impress me... I imagine that had something to do with there being a banjo played to thousands of people ;o) but really it was the way they managed to make it feel like a small venue. Now don't get me wrong, I would have obviously much rather seen them in a club that holds a hundred people, but when they started playing, it was almost as if the entire stadium shrank. I didn't know that could happen. Apparently it can.

Of course I would have preferred to see them here...

Besides being an interesting experience (my foray into non-Canadian, non-small-time concert going), it made clear to me that I am not one of those people who is in it for the lights and the pyro and the fifty foot tall speaker racks (ok, ok, fifty foot tall speaker racks in a small place would make for some pretty excellent bass...)- I'm in it for the music, man! Well that and the jumping around getting covered in boy-sweat and feeling the bass drum in your stomach... but yeah, the music, man!

Library Voices in Montreal OR Why Enthusiasm Matters

So my sister has been spending the past six months working on a devious plan to get me to like all of her favourite bands... I should say that this is a) not that devious (basically it consists of making me mixed cds for the car...) and b) not that difficult a task, since we pretty much like the same kind of music to begin with, just different individual bands. Nonetheless it has been a rather successful undertaking, reaching its zenith during the Library Voices show in Montreal this past Wednesday.

Library Voices are my sister's favourite band. Now I know that you think you know what I mean when I say "Favourite Band" but I am rather pretty friggin certain that you are underestimating that statement. Lets put it this way: during a hypothetical conversation about the implausible situation of waking up one day to find all of your musical tastes had been reversed, she suddenly became wide eyed and said (in a barely audible whisper) "But... but... not liking Library Voices would make my heart hurt...!" and then proceeded to tear up. Honest to god actual shiny eyes. Oh little sister, in all my years of encouraging your music love I have never been so proud... ;o)

At any rate, this was by far the band she was most excited for me to see live and most hoping I would enjoy. So we went. Its kind of a lot of pressure- Just before the first song my sister turned to me and says " I am SOOOO excited you're going to see them!!!" (Pressure?!? yes.) I have to say I like their cds a lot, but they aren't my absolute favourite, the venue was pretty small (all parties admitting it was because they never fill the bigger ones), and the opener was good but a little snippy. In other words it was an alright set up, but my expectations were on the low side.

They needn't have been.

Even if I was expecting Elvis or Springsteen, Foggerty or Freddy Mercury, I would not have been disappointed. By the second song I understood her trauma at the thought of not liking them. By the third song I was belting out the words to songs I didn't even know I knew. And by song four I was already sure this was making it into my all-time-top-five-concerts. No joke.

My requirements for concert awesomeness?
1) Enthusiasm (the band looks like they want to be there)? Check.
2) Good sound (loud but not so loud it makes your ears bleed, thumping but clean)? Check.
3) Dancing (cuz they/we can't help it)? Check.
4) Sweat (them, me, everyone... if we 'aint all sweatin they 'aint doin' something right)? Check.
and above all else
5) Joy (they are just having so much fun that you can't help but be filled with glee)? Check.

And they were there in spades. All of 'em. Each and every member of the band spent the entire show looking like it was the only place on earth they ever wanted to be (from stepping foot one on stage to coming back out at the end to assure a super fan that they didn't play her favourite song- not because they didn't want to- but because they didn't have the right instruments there and were crap at playing it live). They made each of us in the small but enthusiastic audience feel like we were in on some sort of inside joke, like we were an integral part of their joy, like we were all in the same boat, and that it was the best boat anyone could ever be in. They rocked. They sweated. They danced and jumped and smiled their faces off. They were funny, they were energetic. They were awesome in the original sense of the word.

Sometimes a band is good. Sometimes they're good live and not on cd, or good on cd and not live- sometimes that evens out and makes them just ok. But sometimes, sometimes a band is so good live that it makes listening to them on record amazing. Library Voices is one of those bands. If you ever get the chance to see them in concert, drop everything and do it. It may be in a small venue, there may only be twenty people there (how do more people not know about these guys!?!) but trust me, there is no way you will come away from it not having fallen in love.

Judging a Band by Their Artwork

Art means a lot to me. Pretty much everyone who knows me knows that. People who talk to me on the street gather that in about the first five minutes... I feel that the art someone makes (or for that matter chooses to display as a part of themselves- in their home or in association with something they have created like a book or a CD) says a lot about them as a person- obvious statement I know, perhaps even a bit trite, but I mean in in an actual way. Like seeing someone's artwork, for me, helps me understand them better than anything else does.

Over the years I have likewise noticed that choosing albums based on their covers has never let me down. Now I know that it goes against the tried and true saying, that parents and teachers everywhere cringe as I type these words, but when taken quite literally (as in judging actual books or in this case CDs) I find that time and time again if an author or a band likes their art, and I like their art, I will also like said band.

So. I just discovered ('just discovered,' like not five minutes ago just discovered) that the artwork for my favourite band (Elliot Brood) is, in fact, all created my the banjo player and co-lead-singer of the band, Mark Sasso. This is 1) odd for me because I have loved this band for about five years and I'm not quite sure how I was not previously aware of this fact and 2) particularly odd, seeing as how they are my favourite band musically (on my bike, in the car, in the summer, in the fall, live, on cd, basically just best. yeah, just best) but also by leagues my favourite band artistically (well, by leagues I really mean that The Decemberists are a very close second, but that these two bands are leagues ahead of all the rest... incidentally I also just recently found out that all of The Decemberists' illustrations are created by the wife of lead singer Colin Meloy!).

I love this artwork. I have a limited edition, beautifully hand-made release of their album Ambassador, which I bought the first time I ever saw them in concert, and lovingly display on my bookcase. When they're setting up for a show I peer around other concert goers to get a look at their set pieces, the bass drum image, the carved chair... The first thing I do when I buy one of their CDs is open the cover and pull out the innards to see what they've done this time (sometimes a train schedule, other times a hand written note...). I even decorated my bike helmet with Elliot Brood inspired designs. Their stuff has such a great sense of narrative (just like their music) and nostalgia (just like their music) and frontier aesthetics (just like their music) and quirkyness (wait for it...... just like their music).

I seriously love this band's artwork. Seriously. And finding out that its made by someone in the band makes me love them even more than when I thought they just liked it too.

Its kind of weird when you think you can't love something more and then get proven wrong. Of course I guess that happens often when you read/listen to things covered by artwork you love... 'Can't judge a book by its cover' my ass!

When they are good they are very very good, and when they are bad...

As you have likely gathered, I enjoy discovering new bands through live music. Of course there's the radio (mostly CBC, cuz I'm a Canadian, and a dork ;o) and recommendations from friends, but there's nothing like that feeling of being captured by someone onstage who you've never heard of before, picking up their cd and then listening to it in the car non-stop for the next three weeks... Festivals are great spots for this to happen, but the more common (read non-summer) experience of live-band-discovery happens during openers.

Mostly openers are so-so. Come ci Come ca. Fine. sometimes they're awesome and you want to take them home in your pocket (Rah Rah opening for Said the Whale, The Daredevil Christopher Wright opening for Dan Mangan), and every once in a while they just make you mad. because they're wrecking the vibe. seriously. wrecking. it. I went to two shows last weekend covering both ends of the spectrum. And here they are:

Wrecking-the-vibe: One Hundred Dollars opening for Elliot Brood
I love Elliot Brood. I really Really do. And there is nothing that could wreck an Elliot Brood show for me, but One Hundred Dollars came pretty 'effin close. They were alright at first, a little intense but the lead singer's voice was excellent and the guitarist was entertaining, but it was just so.... well weird really. The band members didn't actually seem to like each other very much and the singer acted like she was on heroin. It was like she was starting into your soul, and not in a good way. We were creeped out. And by 'we' I mean we alllllll were creeped out. Every single person around me turned to their friends at least once and literally said "Man, she is creepin' me ouuuuut!" And it just. kept. going. It didn't get less creepy, it just got more so. For almost an hour. A creepy opener for almost an hour. not cool. Thank goodness I love the Brood boys or this might have been an all out wash. Close save.

So-awesome-you-want-to-take-them-home-in-your-pocket: Northcote opening for The Wooden Sky
the following night, on the COMPLETE opposite end of the spectrum... The Wooden Sky were great (though I had my first experience of actually feeling too close as I almost got hit with the guitar neck a few times...), but I had seen them a few times on youtube and was expecting said greatness. Still great, but expected. Northcote was phenomenal and unexpected. Singer Matt Goud is an adorably bearded ginger, who is as friendly as he is talented, and the guitarist and bassist/melodica-ist are equally good-natured and good-skilled. They breezed through a too-short [only because it was awesome, I'm sure it was actually regular-lengthed] set and finished off with a few older songs (one of which I got to play the tambourine for ;o), punctuating the whole thing with cheerful banter, gigantic smiles, and genuine mirth. Their music was beautiful, they were wonderful, and it made the whole evening just vibrate with happiness.

This is what an opening band should be. Heck this is what all bands should be. Thanks Northcote for undoing the momentary disillusionment created by One Hundred Dollars. And thanks for just being generally fantastic.

Lyrical Musings on Musical Classifications or "What it means to like country"

CBGB stands for Country, Bluegrass, Blues. Seriously now, who would have guessed that? I mean obviously if you're a CBGB fan you would almost certainly know it, but most people who have only a cursory knowledge of CBGBs as a former rock club in New York City (arguably THE former rock club in New York City), I think would be surprised to learn that name of the legendary local has nothing to do with Rock and everything to do with Country...

I used to be one of those people who likes "all kinds of music... except for country and rap." Which was complete bollocks because 1) People who say they like 'all kinds of music' are usually the same people who can't name three of their favourite bands, and I am most definitely NOT that kind of a people, 2) I actually do like some rap, particularly 80s era rap, and I'm not sure that this is the best example of 'rap' music as we define it nowadays, but The Fresh Prince of BelAir was one of the first songs I ever knew all of the lyrics to, and 3) I totally do like country. My teenage-self would hit me over the head with a two by four for even thinking of uttering that sentence, but it does not make it any less true. I actually love country music.

I don't really know when or how it happened, but it happened. Hard core. (Okay not THAT hard core, because I only like a very specific kind of country music (CBGB one might say...) and still have a very viscerally unpleasant reaction to pop country- you know, the my-girlfriends-stole-my-truck-and-ran-over-my-dog-on-the-way-to-go-marry-her-cousin kind of country... or the I-got-nothin-to-say-but-gee-don't-I-sound-real-perdy kind. no good. borderline offensively bad.)  And this is what I love: banjo music. Johnny Cash music. washboards and wagon trains and tumbleweeds music. Hells my current favourite band (Elliott Brood  of course) boasts two banjos a harmonica and a slide guitar and has more than one song about a wagon train (as does Graveyard Train, another current love- though they also play chains, washboard and stand-up bass...)

(I swear this will relate back in a moment so bare with me) I recently saw Dan Mangan in concert and have since fallen in love with his song Road Regrets, particularly one stanza which goes, and I quote: "and rob he likes his country tunes. it’s never been the lens that i see through. but i guess driving for a week or two puts words in your mouth. so find dodge and then get out of it. it’s about as country as i get"

though arguable not 'country at all' the video for Road Regrets has 

numerous similarities to Elliott Brood's video for Second Son

It captures something about country that I have up till now had difficultly grasping- that it is a lens rather than just a sound. I may love the banjo and the hitting-objects-with-wooden-spoons, but its the storytelling that gets me, more specifically the way in which a country-song story is told (both lyrically and with the music...). Its the narrative and the music working together to create the imagery, to create the story, to create the world of the song... So despite my best intentions, it actually is the my-girlfriends-stole-my-truck-and-ran-over-my-dog-on-the-way-to-go-marry-her-cousin that I love. As long as its more about wagon trains and less about soap operas set in backwater Texas...

Sorry sixteen-year-old-me, I just can't help it- I loves me a good yarn.



Road Regrets by Dan Mangan
we’ll drive until the gas is gone. and then walk until our feet are torn. crawl until we feed the soil. film the whole thing. it’s all business in the left hand lane. drive there and then drive back again. escape can’t be the only way to escape. so i’ve gotten used to coffee sweats. still getting used to road regrets. hell, i took you up on all your threats to leave. it’s a shame, it’s a crying shame. and ain’t it always the way that takes you back to from where it is you came. and rob he likes his country tunes. it’s never been the lens that i see through. but i guess driving for a week or two puts words in your mouth. so find dodge and then get out of it. it’s about as country as i get. see you ain’t living until you’re living it. not dead ’till you die. but watch out for the paraphrase. for they will crown you then they will take your legs. see the cost is more than what you get paid. but do it anyway. it’s a shame, it’s a crying shame. and ain’t it always the way that takes you back to from where it is you came.

"We Love You Montreal!"

Sometimes you go to an event, for me usually a concert, and you get this weird feeling, this feeling that this is one of those things that you're going to tell your kids about. That you're going to get to say "I was there when..." This was one of those things: Aracde Fire and Karkwa, Free in Montreal.

Alright so I already love Arcade Fire, and I already love Karkwa... and this show was free. So it was a pretty easy sell. But I didn't really count on how easy a sell it would be... to everyone. I have never seen so many people at a show. They closed down Places des Arts. They re-routed the busses. They handed out free water. And it was so worth it.

The concert was great. The music was great, the sound quality was great, the video was great (I felt like I could see everything despite being behind three trees...). The vibe was great ( I feel like a dork saying 'vibe' but all alternatives sound even lamer... so the 'vibe' was great). Everyone was in such a great mood, people were singing and dancing together, talking with random strangers, being pleasant and happy... Of course the fact that it was all free didn't hurt, but I can't help but feel that having that many people being that happy in that small a space, makes everything seem just a little bit better. The air sweeter, the water taste better, everyone friendlier...

There was a moment right at the end where they released dozens of giant glowing balloons into the crowd, and there was a great gasp. An actual audible collective gasp. It was fantastic. and when I tell my kids about that show, its not the video or the lights or even the balloons that will get the spotlight- it will be the dancing, the singing, and the gasp. Hearing tens of thousands of people simultaneously gasping in delight. Perfect.

You never grow too old to do the things you love, only too old to remember you love them OR A Love Letter to Moshing

As promised,  'I Love Concerts' part deux ;o)

So Thursday I had kind of a shitty day. Nothing huge or earth shattering, just not that wonderful either Just shitty. And I felt like I really needed to do something . ANYTHING. just something INVOLVED. Participatory. Fun. Concert.

Luckily a friend of mine had mentioned earlier that he was going to see the Planet Smashers so I asked him if I could tag along, he said sure, so I met up with him and some of his friends.

Now I should say right off that the Planet Smashers are a ska band- one of the few ska bands I actually ever listened too, but that I kinda forgot that ska is usually grouped in with punk... so I turn up and I am by far the brightest person there (in my rainbow shirt, neon green hoodie and bright turquoise toque...), but I have decided not to let anything stop me from having fun. I decide I do not care if I stick out like a sore thumb. And I don't! Apparently sometimes 'just deciding' something actually works! Score one for me!

I quickly discovered that the Real McKenzies were opening (bagpipes! punk music with bagpipes! so good) met the friends of friends (who were of the the super-excited-about-live-shows persuasion- my favourite kind of folk), got a beer, and settled in near the bar (right in the middle of the highway to the bar in fact). The constant flow of people, was nice though instead of annoying or frustrating! Each and every person who bumped into me said sorry or smiled in apology.  Someone would catch your eye while you were bopping your head to the music and randomly give you a huge smile or even a high five just in support of your enjoyment of the music. It was great! I had almost forgotten how friendly people are at punk shows, how exactly the opposite of the image they portray...

But what I had forgotten even more was how much I love the pit. For Planet Smashers we all decided to head up to the front and it was less than a second from when they picked up their instruments to when everyone went crazy. Skanking, moshing, crowd surfing... By the end of their set I was soaked from head to toe (Josh commenting: "you're sweating like me!"), smelled of other people, had a throbbing nose from getting elbowed in the face, bruised arms and knees, a throat raw from singing, ears that were ringing and toes that felt like they had been crushed to a pulp. I had been shoved around, lifted off my feet, half-lost a shoe, fallen over and been picked back up again... and I could not have been happier. Good bye shitty day, hello awesomeness.

This is when I understand why people look at me funny when I try to explain why I love concerts. I mean, it doesn't really sound like much fun when its written down in black and white like that... I get it. I get that, for all intents and purposes, getting trapped in a swarm like that seems like something that should be terrifying (especially for someone like me who grew up pretty petrified of crowds) but it just isn't. It never has been. Its always seemed strangely comforting (may even have been one of the main factors in helping me get over that fear)! There is something to be said for losing yourself in a crowd- a rambunctious, enthusiastic, singing, dancing, strangely kind and polite crowd- all doing the same thing, all working as one, all there to have fun and support everyone else's fun-having.

I had forgotten how much I love mosh pits. I had forgotten how much I love being in a position of complete trust with everyone around you (weird that eh? being bashed around by strangers, but knowing that the second anything bad happens ten of those same people will making sure you're ok...). The jumping, the getting lifted up off your feet, the getting dizzy and lost, then the surprise at being suddenly face to face with a friend, or even just someone you shared a high five with after an earlier song...  All of those things, but most of all, best of all, the falling down- because you barely have time to realize you're on the floor before someone is lifting you back up.

Life should be more like that, life should be like a mosh pit- where its crazy and exciting and silly and kind, but most of all where complete strangers pick you up when you need a hand. Where you feel safe- even when you get elbowed in the face, where you feel respected- even when someone crashes into you, where you feel love- even when everyone is shouting at the top of their lungs...

Life should be a mosh pit. I'm tellin' you, it really should...