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!

Inland

When honesty is used in a thoughtful way, it can be a beautiful thing. Leif Vollebekk’s Inland (Nevado Records) is a beautiful a thing. A beautiful, genuine, swooning thing. Violin, piano, guitar, banjo, harmonica and soft brushed percussion form a remarkably lovely body of songs around the spine of Vollebekk’s poetic lyrics. Inland is full of perfect moments where music and words come together seamlessly, as in “Michael Robartes & the Dancer” where Vollebekk’s warm, finger-picked acoustic guitar provides the instrumental support for his equally warm lyric waves: “Blue-eyed sister’s asleep downstairs / In a rocking chair by the old lamp’s glare.”

The overall mood of Inland is one of familiarity: “You Couldn’t Lie to Me in Paris” sounds like an unearthed Bob Dylan b-side; the percussive guitar, strings and piano on “In the Midst of Blue and Green” is something that wouldn’t be out of place on a Nick Drake record.

But at the heart (or spine) of the Vollebekkian sound are his trademark lyrics, his slice-of-life stories set to music. As someone who frequently glosses over lyrics in favour of the general melody, it’s refreshing to continually notice words again, and even better to notice them when not actively trying to. Vollebekk’s lyrics make themselves known by very nature of their honesty and attentive phrasing, and it’s nice to be reminded of the marvellous things language can do for a song.

Inland is a real album. According to Vollebekk himself, the album is meant to be heard on vinyl, an earthier, arguably more “real” music experience. The wavering harmonica solo on “Don’t Go Klaksvik” is real. The emotional range of “Quebec”, from defeat (“When a woman moves on it’s best you just move away / When she fancies your friend, now that’s twice the price to pay”) to audibly strained defiance (“Step on to that bridge / Swear I ain’t coming back”) is real.

In reality, all I’m really trying to say is that Inland is really real and it’s really fantastic because of it… For real.

***

For more Leif Vollebekk
MySpace
Website

David Little g

This brother duo, made up of two members from Ottawa-based band The Gallop had me smiling about three guitar strums in. The music was relaxed, easy to hear, and contentedly warm what with all the Kings of Convenience-esque harmonies and simple song structures. The pair also didn’t take themselves too seriously, keeping it light with unexpectedly blunt lyrics that quite literally made me laugh out loud, such as: “Babe I’m sorry, but not really—Tough luck,” and “Are you kidding me? Honestly. Thanks. Thanks for nothing.” I was fully charmed by this set and have no doubt that these guys will be well-received as they move up through the ranks of folk stardom.

Website: http://davidlittleg.bandcamp.com/
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/davidlittleg

Download the David Little g EP for free on their website.

Jonathan Chandler front and center

I won’t lie. I’m not familiar with Amos the Transparent, but if this (mostly) solo perfomance from their lead singer is any indication, I might have to get familiar. Chandler launched into an acoustic set of mainly Amos the Transparent songs that were a nice mix of build ups, instrumental intensity and small, poetic moments. Throughout his performance, I was constantly impressed (even to the point of uttering an audible “Wow” or two) with the power behind Chandler’s voice. Few men could hit those higher notes at all, let alone with his from-the-belly strength.

One of the highlights included a cover of Alanis Morissette’s “You Oughta Know”, which sounded about as romantic as a musical fuck you could be expected to. But the communal atmosphere of the set was maybe the most amusing and heart-warming thing about Chandler’s set. Not only were there obvious Amos fans sprinkled throughout the crowd, clapping, singing, and even harmonizing along, but above Chandler’s soaring voice there came the sudden, sudden, shushing sound of a shaker. I looked over to see a diehard fan who knew every word and her way around that shaker. I wondered whether Chandler discreetly slipped it to her when no one was looking, or whether she always brought it along to shows in the event of a rhythmic emergency. Either way, it’s kind of great to see a musician do a live, impromptu collaboration with an obviously adoring audience.

Website: http://www.myspace.com/amosthetransparent
MySpace: http://www.amosthetransparent.com/

Amos the Transparent will be playing in Toronto for Canadian Music Week showcase on Friday, March 11 at the Horseshoe.

Leif Vollebekk

Maybe I’m just slow, but I didn’t really “get” all the Bob Dylan comparisons swirling around Leif Vollebekk until seeing him perform live. Now I get it, because Vollebekk most certainly has that classic, folk storytelling thing about him, where the words just keep tumbling out. And even with the undesirably constant thump and rumble in the soles of my shoes from whatever punk/metal band was playing downstairs at Mavericks, Leif jokily brushed it off with a simple “I’ll try and play in synch,” before proceeding to filter out the background noise with an absolutely enchanting set.

He built up a real sense of atmosphere in the (wonderful but) generally non-atmospheric Cafe Dekcuf as he led us through live and looped guitars, bursts of harmonica and soft walls of violin sound. I even saw a grown man sitting on the ground with his fists tucked under chin, looking a little starry-eyed as he watched the set unfold. But I can’t blame him. Vollebekk is really everything I could ever want in a solo performer. His voice is captivating: alternately controlled and wandering depending on what the moment calls for, occasionally raspy, and with a jazzy waver when he gets up into the higher registers, reminding me of Patrick Watson. In terms of stage presence, Vollebekk is again a bit of a hypnotist: not only is he a technically skilled musician, but the music seems to manifest itself in every part of his body. His movement is constant, but fluid and expressive as his torso twists around the melody, the palm of his hand hitting against the guitar with an earthy percussiveness.

Over and over again, I see little quirks in his performance that will set him apart from other solo acts. It’s in the way he deliberately chooses to tune live so that the audience can be a part of the process, remarking that he’s always liked the way you can hear musicians tuning on old, live records. It’s in the contrast between his total absorption during each song and the almost childlike giddiness between. At one point during the show, Vollebekk got amusingly sidetracked, using the light glare off of his guitar to spotlight the sound guy and proclaiming, “Look! It’s like the bat signal!” before lapsing back into musician mode. It’s in the way he injects extra lyrics and throws en Français words into his songs. Essentially, Vollebekk is a born performer. It’s rare to see someone who so fully brings together personality, stage presence, banter/anecdotes and technical skill while having it seem completely genuine.

The set was mainly composed of material from his most recent release, Inland (“Quebec”, “Don’t Go to Klasvik”, “Michael Robartes & the Dancer”, “1921”), but also ventured off the record, including a completely engaging, looped violin cover of Neil Young’s “Barstool Blues.”

But I feel as though I simply cannot call this review complete without mentioning this: in the midst of tuning, one of Vollebekk’s guitar strings broke, so he sent out a request for a guitar, and who should sidle up beside the stage with a guitar but the man I can only assume is Shaker Woman’s significant other. Screw Kate Hudson, these people are the real Band-Aids.

Anyway.

The moral of the story is that you should go and hear Leif Vollebekk’s musical stories. Live. And I have a feeling that it won’t be too long before he starts raking in support and fans of all sorts, so I’d recommend taking the opportunity to see him in intimate, teeny tiny venues like Cafe Dekcuf before it’s too late. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

P.S. Thanks to Matthew overt at i(heart)music.net for organizing this great showcase.

***

For more Leif Vollebekk,

Website: http://www.nevadorecords.com/leifvollebekk.php
MySpace: http://myspace.com/leifvollebekk

Leif Vollebekk will also be in Toronto on January 22 at The Cameron House.

A chilly panda.

“If my record sounded like a panda, we’d all be in a very good situation,” says Leif Vollebekk of Inland (Nevado Records), his most recent release. I can’t claim to know what a panda bear sounds like (though according to Vollebekk it would probably have “a really nice set of pipes”), but Vollebekk’s Inland is at the very least a very, very good situation.

He describes the record as being an attempted cross between Leonard Cohen’s first album and Nick Drake’s last album, a lofty attempt indeed. But what with Vollebekk’s lyrical nods to familiar Montreal beacons and Inland’s general swoonery, I’d say it was a successful cross indeed. Vollebekk also claims that the record should be experienced in what is now a widely overlooked format: “[Inland is] a vinyl record. It should not be listened to on CD,” he warns. “Anyone with a CD should burn it and buy the vinyl. I made it for vinyl, so I’m really excited about people getting to hear it the way it’s meant to be heard.”

For Vollebekk, having the album available on vinyl seems to be an extension of his back-to-basics song writing style, a style which has often been compared to that epitomic rambler himself, Bob Dylan. “You know, you gotta hand it to Bob,” says Vollebekk of Dylan’s stripped down style. “After the Beatles came out with Sgt. Pepper’s, which was the most psychedelic, mind-blowing, over-the-top produced record in history at that point, he was like, ‘Okay. Screw that. I don’t like that. I’m gonna make a record with drum and bass and acoustic songs about pastoral and biblical stuff.’” Vollebekk has an obvious appreciation for Dylan’s approach where “all the images, all the colour and all the psychedelia [are] in the words.”

But you know, you also gotta hand it to Leif. He keeps things restrained, creating intentionally spacious sonic layers in his songs where music and lyrics are given plenty of elbow room, despite the fact that he plays not only acoustic and electric guitar, but also piano, violin and harmonica*. According to Vollebekk, “If God didn’t invent high school, I don’t know how I would’ve learned instruments.” Take these words to heart, yond teenagers, and take comfort in the possibility that, after begrudgingly toiling away hours of your educational life trying to unfurl the mysteries of the bass clef, you too could end up as a multi-instrumentalist whiz kid.

As the interview comes to a close, I ask Vollebekk what he’s most looking forward to in the new year. He first restates his excitement over people hearing Inland on vinyl, but mostly seems relieved at the prospect of finally having all his projects come into fruition. Along with his latest album, Vollebekk recently finished another that will hopefully be released this fall. “Apparently it’s a logical direction,” says Vollebekk of the forthcoming record. “A friend of mine said that it makes sense. But it’s really different. This one is more like a folk thing, but it has kinda this alternative blues-y thing. [The album is] still acoustic guitar and bass, but I went to the States for a bit and I’ve been listening to a lot of old 1940′s country, so it kinda has more of a Nashville country feel.” So if things go as planned, maybe this year Leif Vollebekk fans will never suffer that always cruel waiting period between album releases.

And if things don’t go as planned? Given the logic behind his answer to the if-you-were-a-singing-animal- what-would-you-be question, I’m not sure I’d raise too much hell about it: “I think a panda. A panda! ‘Cause I hear that they’re kinda vicious, right? But they look really cute? Not that I’m cute.”

I like that what he chooses to refute isn’t his viciousness, but his cuteness. Well. At least he’d be a modest vicious panda.

*Maybe it’s just me, but if I could play such a bevy of instruments, I feel like I’d be tempted to ditch restraint and throw down every single one of my musical skills. All the time. One (wo)man band style. Like this guy.

***

For more Leif Vollebekk,
Website: http://www.nevadorecords.com/leifvollebekk.php
MySpace: http://www.myspace.com/leifvollebekk

Leif Vollebekk will also be in Toronto on January 22 at The Cameron House.

Hooded Fang

9. Hooded Fang @ Cafe Dekcuf (Ottawa) Friday, January 23

Even though Rural Albert Advantage were the headliners at this show, Hooded Fang completely ran off with my heart about thirty seconds into their set. Between the male/female harmonies, the unpretentious inter-switching of instruments and the copious amounts of good cheer that they spread around the room, I was sold. And judging by the bouncing, shimmying attendees around me, I’d say everyone else caught the Fang fever.

8. Rah Rah @ Cafe Dekcuf (Ottawa) Friday, May 15

The second the band hit the stage, I felt like I’d been saved from the brink of musical disparity. I had assured my friends that this would be an excellent show, and felt incredibly guilty for making them endure THREE opening bands that were either flat out awful or dreadfully mediocre. But when Rah Rah got going, I (and hopefully my friends) felt  re-invigorated, forgetting the earlier musical blunders. The band was just so into it and so excited to be there, making their Going Steady material come alive. And of course you can’t talk about Rah Rah without mentioning the throaty beauty of Erin Passmore’s rich, soulful vocals, which the crowd were hootin’ and hollerin’ for, much to her bashful chagrin.

7. Spiral Beach @ The Mansion (Kingston, ON) Tuesday, April 28

This show was particularly special due to the fact that the opening band flaked, meaning that Spiral Beach stepped in to fill the void. That’s right. Two back-to-back sets of Spiral Beach: the first a stripped down, folksy affair, and the second being the regularly scheduled program of raucous, cow-punk-circus-in-space rockers. It was a Tuesday so the audience was a little sparse, but this only added to the especially intimate atmosphere of the evening.

6. Most Serene Republic @ Zaphod Beeblebrox (Ottawa) Saturday, November 14

I knew that MSR would have no problems living up to my high expectations, even before a single note was played: the show began with Adrian Jewett leading the crowd in a spirited chant of “Rufio! Rufio!” (ala Hook), followed by the necessary crowing. From there on, the night was a blur of Jewett’s psychedelic dance moves, Emma Ditchburns clear, jazzy voice ringing out above everything, down-on-the-floor trumpet solos, and the sound guy’s compliance when the band requested that the ignored disco ball be put to use for a freak out dance party during an all-or-nothing performance of “Don’t Hold Back, Feel a Little Longer.”

Spiral Beach

5. Spiral Beach @ Zaphod Beeblebrox (Ottawa) Friday, October 30

So it might seem a little excessive to have two Spiral Beach shows in the same list, but if you’ve ever seen these guys live you’ll understand that this isn’t really excessive at all. Since the first time I saw the band play at the Wolfe Island Music Festival back in 2007, these humbling-ly young musician types have only managed to knock my socks off with increasingly greater force. As per usual, they induced me into complete, grooving, musical submission, such that I didn’t even mind the vaguely patronizing “Isn’t she cute” smirks that I kept getting from a middle-aged lady. Whatever, lady. This is Spiral Beach. Smirk away.

4. Lykke Li @ Phoenix (Toronto) Friday, February 6

Although the long wait time before she hit the stage was totally uncalled for, this petite Swedish powerhaüs delivered. She danced like a freak but was so confident in her freakitude that I could only wish that I, too, had the ability to twitch around like that and look cool doing it. Her backing band played a huge role in offering up really dynamic takes on material from the breakout Youth Novels, and complied during her respectable little rapping detours.

3. Ben Kweller @ Mod Club (Toronto) Sunday, February 22

I have had a long love affair with Ben Kweller. I think I was twelve when I first heard his live cover of “Drug Buddy” (by the Lemonheads), and have spent the past eight years in regular cycles of obsession over what has come to be a pretty extensive and varied music catalogue for someone so young. Given my long-term relationship with Kweller, he has been in the top three on my concert bucket list for a while, so it goes without saying that I was a little manically over-excited the night of the show. In the moments before he sidled up onstage, my stomach was executing some impressive gymnastics, but upon finally seeing that muppet face of his and hearing his voice in person, all Southern drawl and take-him-home-to-mom charm, I felt like a little part of me had been made complete. He’s an instantly likeable kind of guy, humble and personable with a natural storytelling ability and easy humour. Ben and his backing band hit a few of my old favourites (“Family Tree”, “On My Way” and “The Rules”), but approached them with the countrified sound of his latest album. Going into the show, I wasn’t really sure about the twangy of his newest release Changing Horses, but I left convinced of its merit and ever more enamoured with my favourite little Texan.

2. Frightened Rabbit @ Horseshow Tavern (Toronto) Wednesday, July 22

First in-person band interview: backstage, pre-show with front man Scott Hutchinson. First free journalistic beer as a result of said interview. (I kept the bottle cap). Ridiculously welcoming and enthusiastic crowd.  Explosive, equally enthusiastic performance from the band. Lots of torso-twisting dance moves. Lots of sing-a-longs. Lots of oh-my-god-I-can’t-believe-I’m-here moments. I’ve been wanting to see Frightened Rabbit live ever since my first spin of Midnight Organ Fight, and it’s really nice to know that when so many bands are absolute shit live, there are still musicians out there not only making amazing records, but elevating their studio recordings by giving sincere, passionate live performances.

Fleet Foxes

1. Fleet Foxes @ Metropolis (Montreal) Monday, August 3

The musical skill packed into each of these band members is all at once inspiring and capable of knocking any aspiring musician down a couple of pegs. I have never heard a band who can perform live THIS flawlessly. They so perfectly executed the signature, intricate harmonies that make up the FF soundscape, leading me to believe that Fleet Foxes are physically incapable of singing or playing a bad note. Ever. The atmosphere in the venue switched between silent awe during each song, and an onslaught of appreciative noise-making as the last note faded out. But I felt like I should be doing more than just cheering my loudest at the end of each song. I felt like I should’ve been constructing some sort of Fleet Foxes shrine in the middle of the sardine-packed crowd.

Aside from seeing Final Fantasy play in a church a couple years back, I’ve never experienced such transcendence at the hands of live music. And I think this is the ultimate for live shows, those times when you let go of everything but the music and are able to enter into a state that’s probably something like an out-of-body experience. The band seemed continually bowled over by the audience’s adoring response, and the night ended with three fist-clenched bouts of thank yous from lead singer Robin Pecknold as he proclaimed that it was the best show they’d ever played. Now I know it’s naive to think that this hasn’t been said before to other crowds, but I’m choosing to take stock in this statement given the mutual, almost sappy appreciation that was blatantly exchanged between audience and band. As the Fleet Foxers made their way off stage, they could be seen embracing each other and shaking their heads at each other, seemingly disbelieving and overwhelmed by the crowd’s response.

We were pretty overwhelmed, too.

-Alie