The Cat Empire

I was initially kind of peeved when I read the Montreal Gazette review of The Cat Empire’s set that condemned the group as being an “Antipodean wedding band” and wondered if their worldly music sound had a place amongst more traditional hipster types like Sonic Youth and We Are Wolves.

And while I can certainly admit that The Cat Empire would kill if they started working the wedding circuit, I think the fact that they strayed from the standard Osheaga soundscape is what made their set so much fun. It was a breath of fresh air in what was otherwise enjoyable but fairly expected indie fare.

Basically, The Cat Empire are a band out to make you shimmy. They’re a of bunch high energy dudes who are completely at ease on stage, and whether it was the cocky-but-winsome grin of charismatic lead singer Felix Riebl or the silly, two stepping dance style of the mini horns section in the back (who I affectionately started thinking of as
nouveau Pips), these guys are infectiously upbeat.

Even better is the fact that they’ve got some serious chops when it comes to the instruments department. This prowess was made most obvious on “How to Explain” with its revolving door trumpet solos and again during “In My Pocket” Sting-voiced Harry James Angus went off on an insane freestyle that just kept going, but somehow didn’t get annoying. I even willingly put my arms in the air when I was instructed to. And I liked it. Usually I’m not one to partake. So. Score one for The Cat Empire.

Did The Cat Empire blow my mind? Are they a band that I would go out of my way to see again? No, they’re not, because they’re not doing anything earth shatteringly fantastic. But they are a band who have a good time and thus make it easy for everyone else to have a good time too. And that definitely counts for something.

For more,
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/thecatempire

The Black Keys

Some bands can be awkward when taken out of small, intimate venues and plopped on an outdoor stage, where the impact of the music can get lost in all that open air. The Black Keys are not one of those bands.

From the first feedbacked seconds of “Thickfreakness” and on, Dan Auerbach and Patrick Carney radiated the same signature cool that can be heard on their albums. It’s a sound that respects all the cigarette voices and garages that have paved the way, but one that is grounded and thick and swaggering.

It was so great to see two comparatively men dominating an entire stage, filling it with big bad guitar riffs and drums that just didn’t quit. And my only real complaint is the choice to add two other musicians (bass and keys) into the mix. I was bummed that they felt the need to supplement themselves, because the core members of the Black Keys
rock harder together—you’d only need to have stuck around for their full-on conquering attack of “Your Touch” for evidence of that.

But regardless of how many musicians were kicking around on stage, the Keys are a prime example of how to  command attention. They didn’t need to overcompensate with overdramatic theatrics or attention whore antics (coughTorqCampbellandRiversCuomocough) to draw a crowd. All they needed were a guitar, a drumkit, and two talented, commited musicians, because that red hot Black Keys sound speaks for itself.

For More,
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/theblackkeys

Pavement

I adore Pavement. I just about peed myself when I found out they were going to be playing Osheaga. My fangirlish excitement had been trampled upon during the Stars set, but with the first jangly strums of “Gold Soundz”, Pavement reignited every ounce of anticipation that I had built up over months of waiting.

Even though on a logical level knew that I was hanging out on some gravelly terrain in Quebec, on an atmospheric, lost-to-the-music sort of way, the experience of seeing Pavement live was an intensified version of what I generally experience when I listen to their albums. It’s a beautiful feeling of having been transported to Midwest America–blue skies, beckoning highways and carefree summer days rolling endlessly on.

And it’s not just that Pavement’s music is still every bit as viscerally satisfying as I assume it was when they were young sprites, because a big part of the awesome of this set was how cool these guys seem. Even when some disrespectful idiot in the crowd launched a beer bomb that exploded over Stephen Malkmus’ head, completely drenching him down to the waist, Malkmus only faltered for a moment before a) speculating that the beer was of a Labatt-y nature, and then b) bringing a corner of the soaked shirt to his mouth for a taste, confirming that he had in fact been targeted by a Labatt drinker with excellent aim. But nobody in the band seemed significantly bothered. After singling out the culprit (to a wave of loyal boo’s from the crowd) and some silly taunts about how the beer-launcher would be going home in a Montreal ambulance, Pavement dug back into their set almost immediately after. I loved them all the more for it.

I can’t remember if I read this in Rob Sheffield’s book Love is a Mixtape, or if it came about in a Pavement-based conversation I had with my guitar teacher a couple years back, but at some point, somebody/somebook expressed the sentiment that Pavement started losing fans when they started becoming more technically skilled musicians. While I can certainly see how the sloppy charm of Pavement could be hindered by overly-polished playing, after seeing them live I am of the opinion that their improved technical skill absolutely does not take away from the boyish tomfoolery of their music. Malkmus is still a lanky, goofy dude singing about how pigs look when they walk. Scott Kannberg is still of questionable sanity, a guy who hurtles himself around the stage and screams fantastic nonsense into microphones. Pavement are seasoned band who act like a loveably new-to-it-all band.

Throughout their tragically short one hour set, Pavement proved over and over again that they have undeniably still got it. This wasn’t a lacklustre reunion show by a band past their prime. Rather, Pavement breathed new life into beloved songs that never lost their spark to begin with. They moved through well-established crowd pleasers (“Stereo”, “Range Life”, “Stop Breathin’”, “Cut Your Hair”), surprise numbers that I hadn’t expected and was all the more thrilled to hear (“Starlings of the Slipstream”, “Fin”), and rounded everything out nicely by ending the set with the poignantly be-fitting “Here”, Malkmus’ talk/sing voice taking things to a bittersweet close with the line “Everything’s ending here.”

Gold sounds indeed.

K'naan

I went from feeling deeply happy after the Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros set to feeling deeply inspired during and after the K’naan set. And I know how cheesy that sounds, but it’s kind of impossible to listen to K’naan or to see that uptilted smile of his without feeling like he’s onto something big. And judging by the size of the crowd swarming his stage, K’naan is definitely onto something big.

He opened the set with two of his more aggressive tracks, “ABC’s” and “I Come Prepared”, quickly bringing everyone to attention with the polished, harder-hitting beats before seamlessly easing into the musical territory that associate most closely K’naan–the earthier, more eloquent sounds of “Fatima”, “Strugglin’”, and “Be Free”. I was pretty pleasantly surprised by how gentle and tuneful his singing voice was, since I fully expected flawless rap/spoken word from him, but a much more amateurish singing style.

One of the most successful meldings of K’naan’s harder edge and his eloquence happened on “In the Beginning”, where his voice was a nasal whine usually on the verge of an all-out scream, but this harshness was softened by the la-la-la’s and light hand claps in the background. This meeting of soft but powerful created the perfect mood for the remainder of the set, with K’naan wrapping things up with a chorus-only rendition of “Take A Minute” (another abridged number that left me pouting), and ended his set with the obvious choice of “Wavin’ Flag.”          

Outdoor music festivals can sometimes make or break these fist-pumping, anthemic tracks, because if you can’t get a huge crowd of people rallying behind a song that is essentially made for the enjoyment of huge crowds of people, then that song has failed in its purpose. Luckily, “Wavin’ Flag” did not suffer such a fate: from beginning to end, hands were up in the air (waving like they really, really cared) and that unique, all-consuming optimism brought on by thousands of people singing along to a song everybody knows was running rampant. And I was totally swept up in it. It’s the kind of moment I laugh about now because it’s such a cliché, but mostly I just want to go back and feel that rampant optimism again.

For More,
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/knaanmusic

Bedrooms & Basements

I feel like I’m both the PERFECT person and the IMPERFECT person to be doing this review: perfect because Everlea are from my hometown and I’ve seen them a few times at free local outdoor shows; imperfect because I never enjoyed those shows. It took me a few listens to get past my hang-ups, but I think I’m starting to see some good in this EP. 

So here’s the good. With the Bedrooms & Basements EP, Everlea are showing some unexpected promise. They’ve progressed since the angry-sad emo crapola of days before. Not that they still aren’t doing the sad, emo thing, but with this EP they’ve decreased the level of crapola and brought some other things into the mix, adding layers and more intricate instrumentation that goes beyond power chord, power chord, power chord. On the whole, these songs are melodic and just about every one has some simple, pretty guitar work that’s nice on the ears.

But here’s the bad. These songs are melodic and just about every one has some simple, pretty guitar work that’s nice on the ears… Even though I’ve listened to this EP a good number of times now, I keep expecting so much more because there is room for so much more. The entire album is on the cusp of something better, just about to fall headfirst into a grander sound-scape that could explode in a slow and sadly beautiful way.

Take “Find a Way”, for instance. This song is okay as it is, but wouldn’t it be kind of amazing if, at some point, they threw in horns and crashing, syncopated drums? They’re on the right track with an all too brief section that features handclaps and some really solid, twanging guitar. But again, Everlea shies away from sustaining anything truly interesting, and the song just peters out, forgettable and unfulfilled.

I realize that this is an acoustic EP, and that generally acoustic albums lean toward the quieter side. I happen to quite like the quieter side. But Bedrooms & Basements sounds like an album made by a band who aren’t really committing to any sound, quiet or not. This music is insubstantial. It’s filler. And this is upsetting because there are quite a few moments in here where Everlea have potential, where they could move beyond their immature whining and bad lyrics about lost loves. (Every. Damn. Song.)

Basically, with the Bedrooms & Basements EP, Everlea improved, but they didn’t really improve all that much. They took a baby step when they should’ve taken at least a toddler step.

So Everlea, if you’re reading this, I think I see where you were you going with this album. I even like where you were (theoretically) going with this album. But next time around, just stretch those legs a bit more, boys.

For more,
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/everlea

Catch Everlea this Saturday at the Rivoli!