The Pains of Being Pure at Heart @ the Biltmore Cabaret, 7/24/08

Five minutes before the Pains of Being Pure at Heart were due to go on stage, I walked past the merch table and saw singer Kip Berman passed out cold on the couch. I guess that might explain why the Brooklyn four-piece got off to a slightly slow start during last night’s show at the Biltmore. Opening with a new song (I had never heard it before, at least) the group was a little sloppy, Berman’s eyes staring blanky across the crowd. Next, they stumbled through “This Love Is Fucking Right!,” its chorus marred by off-key vocal harmonies.

Thankfully, the band found its legs with a searing version of the single “Young Adult Friction.” Unlike the sunny jangle of the studio version, the song was a blast of white hot distortion, its guitars soaked in shoegaze fuzz. The group had a second guitarist in tow, meaning that the band’s sound was even more muscular than usual. An amped-up take on “The Tenure Itch” incited a mosh pit near the front of the stage, and one fan attempted to crowd surf but wiped out badly.

The band debuted a new song, “Higher Than the Stars,” the title track of its upcoming EP. With dreamy synth pads and a blissful pop chorus, the song sounded a bit like a long lost anthem from an ’80s teen movie.

Unfortunately, drummer Kurt Feldman broke his snare drum, and since no one had a replacement, the set was cut short. During the final song, “A Teenager in Love,” the snare sounded like Feldman was hitting a torn piece of a loose leaf paper. Nevertheless, the group still managed to play most of its self-titled album, plus a handful of b-sides. The show was unlikely to convert any skeptics, but for fans of the album, it was an excellent showcase of the band’s songwriting chops.

The evening was opened by Girls, a San Francisco four-piece that, like Women, is entirely made up of men. Still, it was easy to see where the group got its name, since both of the guitarists had long, flowing locks of blond hair. Most of the group’s songs sounded like ’50s doo wop played with the dreamy jangle of I.R.S.-era R.E.M. Girls sounded best when they stretched into more ambitious territory, as on the epic singalong “Hellhole Ratrace.” The group’s first full-length is due out in September, and, based on last night’s performance, it could be one of the breakthrough albums of the fall.

Deerhunter & Black Lips @ the Commodore Ballroom, 7/23/09

It’s the week of “big indie” here in Vancouver. Two nights ago, I caught the Decemberists‘ full-length run-through of The Hazards of Love at the Vogue. I reviewed the show for Guttersnipe, so I won’t bother to write a full review here, but the band was predictably awesome, especially guest singers Becky Stark (of Lavender Diamond) and Shara Worden (of My Brightest Diamond). If you want to read more, check out my full review here.

Last night, Deerhunter and Black Lips co-headlined a show at the Commodore Ballroom. Deerhunter went on first, playing an array of songs from its back catalogue, drawing most heavily on last year’s Microcastle. Unlike the ambient drones that feature so prominently on their studio albums, Bradford Cox & co. downplayed their experimentalism in favour of stomping, bass-heavy takes on “Cryptograms” and “Never Stops,” whipping the crowd into a frenzy of moshing, crowd surfing and stage diving.

The energy level was upped even further when the band tore through a fuzzy version of “Nothing Ever Happened,” its epic instrumental passages punctuated by Cox’s squealing feedback solos. The set highlight came during “Saved by Old Times,” featuring an unhinged vocal cameo from Black Lips guitarist Cole Alexander.

As rowdy as Deerhunter’s performance was, Black Lips’ set was full-blown mayhem. I wasn’t keeping a tally, but the group must have played well over 20 songs, each of them a concise blast of southern-fried punk mayhem (as well as a foray into doo wop with the single “I’ll Be with You”). No song passed without several attendees climbing up on stage to crowd surf; security kept its distance, and the band didn’t seem to mind sharing the spotlight with its fans. Unfortunately, a few crowd members exploited Black Lips’ generosity, and at one point, four fans milled around of stage for several awkward minutes. Two of them, apparently meeting for the first time, began dirty dancing until another concert-goer climbed on stage and mercifully dragged them off. Later, a burly fan (who looked for all the world like Sully Erna of Godsmack) grabbed Jared Swilley’s microphone and began screaming until it was physically wrested from him by a roadie.

As the set went on, bouncers poured water bottles into the dangerously jam-packed audience. This added to the barrage of bottles and glasses being thrown around the room; just as the band was starting, I got nailed in the head with a half-full water bottle. The music itself wasn’t as memorable as Deerhunter, but it was easily the most chaotic I’ve ever seen the audience get in the Commodore Ballroom.

Local blues rock the TVees opened the show with a fun, if overly anachronistic set of punchy retro throwbacks. Dressed in dapper suits and ties, the group’s blues punk rave-ups evoked ’60s garage rockers like the Sonics and MC5. It was enjoyable enough, but it would be nice to hear a little more personality in the band’s retread of such an oft-imitated style.

Joel Plaskett & the Emergency @ Surrey Fusion Festival, 7/18/09

It was probably bad planning on the part of the Surrey Fusion Festival to hold the event on the same weekend as the Vancouver Folk Festival. Then again, maybe not, since the festival was packed regardless. (The fact that it was free probably didn’t hurt.) The focus of the event was cultural diversity as opposed to high-profile acts, but that didn’t stop the organizers from scoring Halifax singer-songwriter Joel Plaskett as the headliner.

Plaskett, along with his backing band the Emergency, played a variety of cuts from his 15-year back catalogue, drawing most heavily on Three, his triple disc opus released earlier this year. While the album featured ornate arrangements including horns, fiddles, and plenty of backup vocalists, the Emergency performed as a four piece, meaning that the tunes were stripped down to their basic parts. “Rollin’, Rollin’, Rollin'” was reinvented as an intimate acoustic duet with guitarist/keyboardist Peter Elkas. On the other end of the spectrum, “Extraordinary” featured noisy hard rock accompaniment for Plaskett’s bluesy guitar workouts.

But even better than the musicianship was Plaskett himself, as he charmed the crowd with witty banter and his magnetic stage presence. Many of the highlights of the show were non-musical—watching the band perform “Through & Through & Through,” for example, when Plaskett cracked up as he Elkas affected squeaky falsettos and attempted to recreate the female-sung harmonies of the studio version. During “Work Out Fine,” Plaskett’s spoken intro morphed into a surprisingly convincing rap about his cat White Fang; this effortlessly segued into the song’s hopeful, glass-half-full message.

The show finished with a goofy, synth-heavy take on the 2007 single “Fashionable People.” Plaskett sung the song from behind the kit, joking that his bandmates sounded like computers during the song’s robotic refrain. He wrapped up the song with a thundering drum solo, emphasizing what was already clear: as well as a virtuosic musician, Plaskett is, hands down, the coolest person in Canadian indie rock. Even if you don’t like his albums, be sure to check out his live show and witness one of the most charismatic performers around.

Rah Rah @ the El Mocambo, 6/21/09

I’ve been in Toronto this weekend, checking out NXNE. Some highlights of the festival so far have included Hannah Georgas (backed by members of Mother Mother), the Dudes and Said the Whale. But the greatest surprise was Rah Rah, an indie rock six-piece from Regina. The band’s performance mixed the baroque intensity of Arcade Fire with the thundering rhythm section of the Go! Team, featuring swirling guitars and shouted group vocals. The band members traded off instruments on nearly every song (only guitarist Leif Thorseth stayed put), and Kristina Hedlund switched between violin and accordion. The overall effect recalled Broken Social Scene at its most accessible—like “Cause = Time” with more easily discernible lyrics.

This isn’t to suggest that Rah Rah is a one-trick pony: the set highlight was “Duet for Emmylou and the Grievous Angel,” which was built around massive Can-rock guitar chords and a stunning, radio-ready chorus. Unfortunately I didn’t know any of the songs beforehand, as it could have been the ultimate singalong moment. Elsewhere, the band tapped out polyrhythms against a tick-tocking electronic beat, and one song featured three band members on tambourine.

As well as the songwriting, what distinguished Rah Rah was its sense of fun, and the band members’ unaffected charisma. One song used crackling Pop Rocks (yes, the candy) as an instrument, and another featured an exploding confetti cannon. Without distracting from the musicianship, these moments made Rah Rah one of the most giddily joyous concerts in recent memory. I picked up the group’s 2008 album Going Steady, which I will write about soon. According to the merch girl, the band’s sophomore album is recorded and ready for mixing, and is due for release later this year.

Clues @ the Biltmore Cabaret, 5/30/09

Clues and Apollo Ghosts are responsible for two of my favourite records of 2009, so last night’s show at the Biltmore seemed like the perfect pairing. Unfortunately, however, poor promotion meant that the venue was only half full, a problem likely accentuated by the early start time (there was another show starting at 11).

Apollo Ghosts took the stage at 8:45, immediately kicking into high gear with “Little Yokohama.” The band’s energy was relentless, especially singer/guitarist Adrian Teacher, who thrashed around the stage and made Iggy Pop crazy-eyes at the audience; within the first two minutes he had already climbed onto the risers at the side of the stage to perform a guitar solo, crouching slightly so as not to bang his head on the low ceiling. In keeping with Teacher’s manic intensity, the set emphasized the band’s punk influence, eschewing quirky ballads in favour of Ramones-inspired stompers like “Land of the Morning Calm” and “Bad Apple.” The trio scarcely paused between songs, and this blistering pace meant that Apollo Ghosts were able to play almost half of Hastings Sunrise, as well as several cuts from their brand new EP Forgotten Triangle. Of the new songs, the standout was the set-closing “Palm of my Hand,” during which Teacher led the audience in a Congalaise Flea Dance, as well as performing a guitar solo while crowd surfing.

After the party atmosphere established by Apollo Ghosts, Clues’ brooding art rock was an anticlimax. The performance began with the creeped out drone of “Elope,” featuring frontman Alden Penner’s half-whispered vocals and bandmate Lisa Gamble on musical saw. The rest of the set emphasized Clues’ abrasive tendencies, with squalling feedback and thundering dual percussion; “Haarp” was an explosion of noisy crescendos and jagged guitar riffing, and even the bouncy “Perfect Fit” was overdriven and harsh.

The five members switched instruments on nearly every song, all joining in for shouted group refrains on “Ledmonton” and “Approach the Throne.” It was an impressive show, but the group’s stage presence was haughty and withdrawn; audience interaction was kept to a bare minimum, and Penner & co. seemed eager to leave the stage, wrapping up almost half an hour before the 11pm curfew. Perhaps it wouldn’t have seemed so off-putting if not for the contrast with the energy-filled Apollo Ghosts.

Danny Michel @ the Biltmore Cabaret, 5/28/09

To call Danny Michel a singer-songwriter only tells half the story. Not to sell the man’s music short—his lyrics are quirky and memorable, and his guitar playing is borderline virtuosic. But at last night’s show at the Biltmore Cabaret, many of the most memorable moments came between songs, as Michel regaled the captivated audience with stories and jokes, and even noodled with brief snippets from The Rocky Horror Picture Show. With his charming stage presence, he recalled the ever-affable Hawksley Workman, his face plastered with a perma-grin throughout the hour-plus set.

Armed with only his guitar and a loop pedal, he created surprisingly dynamic arrangements by overlaying his songs with hand drumming (playing on the body of his guitar) and harmonized vocal scatting. This allowed him to show off his chops with numerous extended solos, at one point including an interpolation of the theme from James Bond. He recalled the husky voice and retro sensibilities of M. Ward, with songs that ranged between dusty folk noir ballads and countrified rockabilly. The stand-out was “Whale of a Tale,” a series of outrageous lyrical boasts, including “I discovered a dinosaur,” and “I once broke out of prison.” Michel closed out the set with a cover of Elvis‘s “Song of the Shrimp,” a bizarre tale of crustacean murder that was the perfect end to an eccentric set.

The show was opened by local singer-songwriter Hannah Georgas, who played a brief-but-stunning acoustic set with Robbie D., a multi-instrumentalist from her band. Without a rhythm section to support her noisy tendencies, Georgas’s vocal freak-outs were more restrained than usual, placing the focus on her lyrics rather than her arrangements. “All I Need” was sombre and haunting without the propulsive dance rock climax, and the usually-sneering “Chit Chat” was similarly mellowed-out. Nevertheless, Georgas’s bandmate provided enough dynamics to keep things unpredictable, switching between electric guitar, banjo, ukulele, and shakers, as well as providing backing vocals. Ryan Guldemond of Mother Mother joined the pair on guitar for “Love Sick,” a new tune culled from Georgas’s upcoming full-length album. Based on the quality of it and other new songs, the LP is going to be one to watch out for when it’s released early next year.

Carolyn Mark also played a set, but I had just run into some friends, and wasn’t paying much attention. Whoops. It was undeniably pretty, but nothing really caught my attention, aside from when she sung a vocal solo while gargling a mouthful of water.

Grizzly Bear @ the Commodore Ballroom, 5/27/09

I didn’t make down to Sasquatch this year, but at least I’ve been able to enjoy some of the festival’s sloppy seconds (ewww…sorry). Animal Collective played on Sunday, and on Monday TV on the Radio was in town (which I passed on, since I’ve already seen the group once on the Dear Science tour). Last night, Grizzly Bear played a record release show at the Commodore, celebrating the critically-approved Veckatimest.

During a mid-set rendition of “Colorado,” the closing track off of 2006’s Yellow House, a fan screamed “You’re amazing!” at the top of his lungs. And that simple statement pretty much said it all—Grizzly Bear is a technically stunning band, each member is virtuosic at his instrument, and bassist Chris Taylor is so man-pretty he could have been carved out of porcelain. (That last statement might be irrelevant to the band’s music, but it’s still worth noting.) Every song was flawlessly executed, without so much as a note or a beat out of place.

But the band’s greatest strength was also its greatest weakness. With such meticulous attention to every detail, the performance came off as overstudied—no one could ever accuse Grizzly Bear of being too lively on stage. What’s worse, with only four members on stage, the band wasn’t able to replicate the grandeur of its studio arrangements. “Cheerleader,” so hauntingly beautiful in studio form, was flat and lifeless when replicated live.

The songs that worked best were those that emphasized melody over musicianship. “Two Weeks” and “Knife” were predictably awesome, as were the explosive harmonies on the chorus of “While You Wait for the Others.” But on the less pop-oriented material, the band resembled the chamber pop equivalent of prog. It’s counter-intuitive to suggest that a band play less well, but for Grizzly Bear, it would be nice to see the members take a less studious approach.

Animal Collective @ the Commodore Ballroom, 5/25/09

The last time I saw Animal Collective, it was on the Feels tour, and the group looked almost like a regular rock band: Deakin rocked out on guitar, Panda Bear provided thundering tribal percussion, and sort-of-frontman Avey Tare spazzed out like he was on catnip. And the burly, bearded Geologist looked like a bass player, even if he actually served the role of sampler from behind a synth deck.

But the 2009 incarnation of the Baltimore experimental outfit looked like a slightly more animated version of Kraftwerk, its members spending almost the entire show hunched over tables piled high with synthesizers and looping machines. Now reduced to a trio (Deakin is sitting out this album and tour), the group had scarcely any live instrumentation, with Avey, Panda and Geologist acting primarily as button-pushers and knob-twiddlers. To compensate for the lack of action onstage, the show featured a flashy, psychedelic light show, with swirling colours projected onto a huge white beach ball hanging above the stage.

Ironically, by eschewing traditional rock instrumentation, Animal Collective’s sound has become more palatable than ever. Like this year’s (comparatively) pop-friendly Merriweather Post Pavilion, the performance emphasized the group’s Beach Boys-style harmonies and incessantly catchy melodies. “Summertime Clothes” got the crowd bouncing early with its buzzy synth loop and relentless four-on-the-floor beat. A few songs later, “My Girls” provoked such an enthusiastic singalong that the audience nearly drowned out the band during the choruses. Best of all was the pulsing techno of “Brother Sport,” which featured percussive shrieks and reverb-soaked chanting from Avey Tare and Panda Bear.

The show was dominated by Merriweather tracks, but the band also included reworked versions of a few older gems, including “Lablakely Dress,” the set-ending “Slippi,” and a dense electro version of “Who Could Win a Rabbit” that was almost unrecognizable as the same song that appeared on 2004’s Sung Tongs. “Fireworks” was one of the only songs of the night to feature live guitar and drums, its pounding middle section stretched out into an epic jam. Despite being reduced to ¾ of its usual lineup, Animal Collective’s live show was better than ever, balancing boundary-pushing experimentalism with tight musicianship that emphasized the group’s ever-increasing songwriting prowess.

The show was opened by Grouper, a waifish singer-songwriter armed with only her guitar and an array of effects and loop pedals. Her set was dreamy and atmospheric, overlaying haunting ballads with ambient swirls of heavily manipulated guitar sound. It was pleasant performance, but the highlight came near to the end, when a guy standing near me affected a booming British accent and yelled “You’ve satisfied us! Indeed!” I’m not sure if he was expressing genuine appreciation or requesting that she get off the stage, but it was brilliant either way.

Mother Mother @ the Commodore Ballroom, 5/9/09

This show was a major coup for local music. The Commodore Ballroom is the biggest and best rock club in Vancouver, with a capacity of 900 (according to this website). So when Mother Mother announced that it would be playing the Commodore along with Said the Whale, Hannah Georgas, and Gang Violence, some eyebrows were raised. But the show sold out—weeks in advance no less—meaning that the street outside the venue was littered with scalpers and assorted poor saps asking around for extra tickets.

Dance punk trio Gang Violence got things off to an energetic start, with feedback-laden rave-ups that evoked You Say Party! We Say Die! and the Rapture. Rob Andow was particularly impressive, splitting duties between guitar, keyboard, and synthesizer—often all within the same song. Unfortunately, the set got derailed after only a few songs when the synth malfunctioned. After several minutes of tinkering, the band gave up and abruptly left the stage. It was especially baffling considering the guitar was still in full working order; apparently the group doesn’t subscribe to the “show must go on” axiom.

Things turned around quickly once Said the Whale took the stage, starting things off with an epic take on “Love Is Art/Sleep Through Fire” (a mashup of two songs from the EP Let’s Have Sound). Beginning as a gentle acoustic ballad, the song suddenly exploded halfway through, with heart-stopping crescendos and cascading drum fills. “B.C. Orienteering” was another standout, an upbeat folk song with lyrics that read like a survival handbook for a backwoods game of capture the flag.

During the set, local singer-songwriter Hannah Georgas played Feist to Said the Whale’s Broken Social Scene, joining the band mid-set to contribute backup vocals. The collective also played a cut from Hannah’s upcoming album called “The Deep End,” which featured choppy banjo strumming and dazzling group harmonies.

Mother Mother took the stage near 11, with large screens on either side of the stage showing videos of swimming fish and still-beating hearts, shot entirely in black and red. In previous years, Mother Mother’s arrangements were almost entirely acoustic, but the group’s setup now features a keyboard and a synthesizer, which provided an atmospheric backup for the group’s recent new wave-inspired direction. “Touch Up” was reinvented as a Pixies-style rocker, with a lumbering bassline and sing-song boy-girl harmonies, while “O My Heart” featured squalling electronics and a distorted drum pad. Bassist Jeremy Page doubled as a horn player, offering up a jazzy sax solo during a haunting version of “Try to Change.” But it was the group’s three-part harmonies that stole the show, particularly during a chilling take on “Angry Sea.”

By the end of the show, it no longer seemed so remarkable that the venue was sold out; in fact, it seemed stupidly obvious. The guys and girls of Mother Mother came across as fully-fledged rock stars, every bit as charismatic and overpowering as you’d expect Commodore headliners to be. By selling out and blowing away the Commodore, the group has graduated from its previous status of local secret; Mother Mother, welcome to the big leagues.

Dan Deacon @ Richard’s on Richards, 4/26/09

About halfway through his set at Richard’s on Richards on Sunday night, Dan Deacon requested that the audience form a wide circle around the perimeter of the dance floor. He explained that we would be playing what was essentially a massive game of duck-duck-goose, culminating in the entire audience sprinting in circles around the floor. My friend turned to me with genuine panic in his eyes—”We’re all gonna die,” he said flatly.

The circle began spinning quickly, with fans racing as if around a human plughole. Except, with nowhere to drain to, the plughole inevitably resulted in a teeming mass of bodies, moshing and dancing without any semblance of formation. I suddenly found myself face-to-face with an old friend who I hadn’t seen in four years, as we were crushed flat against the stage. My head was swimming and I saw stars as I began to imagine the next day’s headlines: “17 Die in Dan Deacon Plughole Incident.” Looking up, I realized I was inches away from Dan himself, his signature red glasses sliding down his nose and his right arm in a sling (due to a shoulder dislocation earlier this week). Beside me, a girl reached up and handed Dan a shoe, which he held high above his head as he screamed into a microphone that made him sound like a chipmunk.

It was the most surreal moment of a night full of off-the-wall weirdness and crazy audience-participation stunts. At one point, Dan cleared the floor and began a dance contest; later on, he asked fans to link arms with one another to form a human archway, while others danced their way through the tunnel of bodies; during “Snookered,” he instructed audience members to rest their hands on the heads of the people in front of them and focus on a guilty memory. It could have failed miserably if everyone hadn’t played along—but everyone did, and by the end, anyone who wasn’t dancing like a maniac looked strangely out of place.

Compared to the audience-participation experiments, the music was secondary by comparison. The songs seemed like an accompaniment to the main show—which was Dan’s crazy hijinks—rather than vice-versa. This isn’t to say that the performance was anything less than spectacular, with a thirteen-piece ensemble thrashing away at xylophones, guitars, and drum kits. The live band transformed electronica anthems into tribal rave-ups, with almost all of the instruments being performed acoustically, then filtered through Dan’s mass of effects. The backing musicians did the majority of the legwork, but it was Dan who delivered the charisma, spending much of the show with one arm stretched high above his head as if hearkening the heavens.

The show went until past curfew, meaning that there was no encore, and the venue turned on all of the house lights in order to hustle people out the door. Looking around me, everyone was bathed in sweat, matted hair pressed against their foreheads and dazed expressions in their eyes. Of the few snippets of conversion I overheard, no one seemed capable of saying anything more substantial than “Oh my God.” Oh my God—if you ever have to opportunity to see Dan Deacon live, go. But be warned: it will make every other show you’ve ever seen seem tame in comparison.