Tokyo Police Club / Hollerado @ The Sound Academy – December 15, 2012

December 31, 2012 Written by Dustin Cordeiro No comments
Tokyo Police Club / Hollerado @ The Sound Academy – December 15, 2012

The Christmas spirit was definitely in the air (along with a few other things) at the Sound Academy on December 15th, as Tokyo Police Club, Hollerado and last minute guest Topanga played for a very cheerful crowd.

Although the show was not nearly as sweaty as most crowds of this calibre are, it was certainly rowdier than some. The mayhem began near the beginning of Hollerado’s set when rainbow confetti and paper streamers were blasted into the audience from both sides of the stage, along with big, glowing beach balls a few songs later, which members of the band even had to dodge. But these were the least of anyone’s concerns as crowdsurfer after crowdsurfer plunged over everyone’s heads. (These are the moments when it’s not quite as fun to be front row.)

Amidst the chaos, Hollerado played their singles “Pick Me Up,” “Good Day at the Races,” “Juliette” and a track which lead singer Menno Versteeg presented as “a song about a homophobic man.” Versteeg also told a short story about a man with a unibrow who biked past him and apologized for having a unibrow (sometimes it’s just one of those days). One of the highlights of their set was their song “You Got To Lose” which built up to a crowd sing-along of the chorus “You got to lose love if you want to find love” and a fakeout ending.

Tokyo Police Club brought even more Christmas cheer when they started their set, full of their short punchy songs, which allowed them to pack in more hits than most bands are able to perform at one show. TPC opened with “Cheer It On,” the first song off their 2006 EP, A Lesson In Crime, which created a swirl of buzz around the young band at the time of release. They played nearly the entire EP, including the anthemic “La Ferassie”, “Nature of the Experiment,” and the robot dystopia track “Citizens of Tomorrow,” which seemed incredibly well-suited for this year’s apocalypse scares, despite its line: “That’s 2009.”

The boys played a “new” song (although they’ve been playing it live since the start of the summer) called “Argentina,” which had a bit of a Vampire Weekend vibe to it, and a more grown-up feel for them. Hopefully we hear more new material from them sometime near the start of the new year.

As the artificial snow continued to fall, Tokyo Police Club played “Let It Snow,” which seamlessly transitioned into their song “Frankenstein.” They were later joined by Menno Versteeg of Hollerado during the encore for a duet of another holiday classic, “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home),” which they both clearly poured their hearts into.

Santa Claus even made a surprise appearance as a back-up dancer, even though earlier he was in a bit of trouble with the security guards for crowdsurfing. During one of the guitar solos, Menno left the audience with these small words: “Alright, let me tell you something about Santa Claus. Santa Claus is a little thing that lives inside of every one of us.”

Joel Plaskett @ Horseshoe – December 13, 2012

December 22, 2012 Written by Jamie Macdonald No comments
Joel Plaskett @ Horseshoe – December 13, 2012

Hawksley Workman @ Trinity-St.Paul’s Church – December 12, 2012

December 22, 2012 Written by Jamie Macdonald No comments
Hawksley Workman @ Trinity-St.Paul’s Church – December 12, 2012

Plants & Animals @ The Great Hall – November 15, 2012

December 8, 2012 Written by Krystle Merrow No comments
Plants & Animals @ The Great Hall – November 15, 2012

Metric @ ACC – November 24, 2012

December 8, 2012 Written by Melody Lau 2 comments
Metric @ ACC – November 24, 2012

Photos of Stars by Geoff Thomlinson

Some might say that Metric is the reason why I’m doing what I do today – sitting in an office, writing about music, making a shitty but satisfying living off of a love music and words. They were the gateway band into a world of Canadian talent that I didn’t know existed outside of my bubble of Top 40 hits and whatever Ja Rule was putting out at the time. It might not have been the most exciting starting point, but I’ve come to terms with it. I didn’t start off dusting off Beatles records or moving like Jagger; my familial surrounding wasn’t very musical, so I had no guidance. Anyway, I’m not judging you on your gateway bands; I don’t see why you’d need to judge me. I don’t reference my age often, for fear of judgment, but I’m 22 years old; Metric was at the forefront of the buzzing indie scene I took refuge in at the time. That has become my version of the heyday – sorry if it’s not yours.

I didn’t belong in high school. I didn’t have many friends; I didn’t have any self-esteem or clue what I was going to do with my life. But then I was introduced to Toronto’s Metric by a girl I volunteered with and I suddenly found myself grasping onto music for the first time in my life – not just some cheap bubblegum pop star whose flavour would fade away after a few listens. Metric’s music hit me like a ton of bricks and I immersed myself in their riffs, their rhythms, their words. Emily Haines’ voice was tattered and imperfect, something that opposed the glossy and cold voices on the radio and something that I fell in love with immediately. Even better, no one at school really knew who they were so I held onto them for dear life. I had something I felt was meaningful and brilliant that they didn’t know about. It belonged to me.

At this time, Metric was still playing in relatively small venues – well, relative to the Air Canada Centre where they played last weekend, at least – and those rooms felt intimate. I felt like I was part of a small club where the music only drew our bodies closer. I made some of my first friends out of school with like-minded Metric fans.

From there, I had accidentally cracked my way into a goldmine of acts through association and through buzz blogs like Pitchfork and Stereogum. I was hooked and since I was quite the shy and awkward girl – I still am – the only way to spread my love for these bands was through writing. I tried to make a zine (evidently laziness prevailed over my shyness), wrote on message boards everywhere, and I even started a dinky little music blog. The one you’re reading this piece on now.

Nowadays, my Metric CDs are marked with scratches and safely stowed away on a shelf somewhere, but my intense lonely-girl possessiveness hasn’t subsided. Every time their video gets played on TV or I hear a fifteen-year-old girl geek out about “Stadium Love”, I twitch a bit and think, “HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THEM?” Don’t get me wrong, I am overjoyed and proud of the band’s success, but a part of me will always say, “But they were all mine at one point! All mine!” *pouts* *crosses arms* *rolls my eyes at the young’uns*

Which is, of course, why Saturday night’s ACC show was a bit of a mixed bag of emotions for me.

Seven years after I “discovered” Metric, I found myself in a stadium filled with thousands of people screaming and cheering for a band whom I had spent years screaming and cheering for in my bedroom, alone. Suddenly, they didn’t belong to me anymore. They belonged to the girls who ignored me in school. They belonged to the Avril Lavigne fans that pushed me out of the way in the hallway. They belonged to the racist jocks that drove me to the point of depression and self-mutilation.* The band found their way out of my death grip and onto the laps of those who I hid them from.

Although Metric is still considered to be a favourite of mine today – even through my waning enthusiasm towards their newer releases – the one thing I was consistently underwhelmed with was their live shows. Even after the first time I saw them, I distinctly remember it being a good show, but not a great show. And this was long before I developed the ability to critique music for a living.

Something gets lost in translation for me. Songs are brought to life, but doesn’t leap across the crowd and jump at me. There’s a coolness to their performance that’s both rock ‘n’ roll, but not big enough. After seeing them countless times, I never felt like I can give them both thumbs up; just one.

But something at the ACC worked. The large stadium worked in their favour and their new tunes filled the venue with every drum beat, every swelling synth line, and every Jimmy Shaw guitar solo. Jimmy is finally the guitar god we knew he could be and Emily, the glamourous frontwoman.

I might not have wanted them to belong in that stadium, but they did. Tracks off their latest album, Synthetica, echoed throughout the room with a robust confidence and even old favourites like “Empty” and “Dead Disco” found new life in there. And, of course, “Stadium Love” – that’s a given.

Neither Metric nor I are the same as we were back in those heydays. Metric has slowly, but deservedly gained a popular following, and one that I can’t project my teenage elitist angst on anymore. They are the rock stars we always knew they would turn out to be and through the glimmer of awkward feelings, I can say that I’m quite proud to see them own a show that size. I’ve also grown up, figured some – not all – of my shit out and am definitely more confident and sure of myself than I was back in high school.

Metric doesn’t belong to me anymore. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever had the right to even claim ownership to begin with, but we all have one or a few of those bands, right? (Stars, who opened the evening, also fell under that same category for me.) They belong to everyone now. All those people who filled that venue though may vary in levels of fandom, but they shelved out money for a band they like enough to see and that’s fine by me.

 

* I can actually confirm that these people are Metric fans now.

The Wooden Sky @ The Phoenix – December 1, 2012

December 7, 2012 Written by Meryl Howsam No comments
The Wooden Sky @ The Phoenix – December 1, 2012

I’d been eagerly anticipating this show, first of all because I knew The Wooden Sky had been on tour in Europe for over a month and were excited to come home, and also because I’d only seen them play once, outside at the Toronto Islands, so I was curious to see them take over a larger venue.

I arrived early, in time for the second opener, fellow Toronto band, Wildlife. I hadn’t heard their music before, but was impressed – their songs were energetic and fun, and their final song included three of their five band members playing various drums and singing choruses of “ohhhhh’s.” They’d been touring with Wooden Sky, and seemed genuinely excited to announce they were up next.

Wooden Sky came onstage to cheers from their loyal fanbase — the Phoenix wasn’t full, but the crowd was warmer and more welcoming than any crowd I’ve witnessed in a long time. Perhaps lead singer Gavin Gardiner’s onstage persona contributes to the overall feeling: he regularly addresses the audience, and despite his tall stature and all-black attire, seems pretty laid-back. He announced that the band was going to play older songs in addition to songs from their new album, Every Child a Daughter, Every Moon a Sun (likely after having to play a lot of new songs on the tour). The band started with older material early — their second song was the stirring folk song “When Lost at Sea,” the title track from their first album. (They definitely do sound good in a larger venue!) They effortlessly transitioned between albums, and between traditional guitar and synth-heavy rock songs, to ballads, to alt-country songs with violin and melodica solos. It was impressive and unexpected (and unlike I remembered) to hear such variety in the live show.

The band’s collaborative skills and musicianship were evident and contributed to their cohesive sound. Bassist Andrew Wyatt sang soft harmonies against Gardiner’s deep vocals, while occasionally playing melodica and bass simultaneously. Simon Walker, the keyboardist/guitarist, also sang backup, tirelessly played guitar and piano, and experimented with synth. The synth was especially poignant during the swingy ballad “Take me Out” (which Gardiner dedicated to his parents — awww). Also in the name of dedications, Gardiner dedicated “North Dakota” to another Toronto band, Ohbijou, who were playing Lee’s Palace that night.

At the beginning of the encore, Gardiner announced that he’d set a goal to write a song every day. It didn’t last, but he sang the first song he’d written, a sparse guitar-and-violin version of the mournful “River Song One.” And the mood changed, yet again, for the final song of the encore, when Gardiner stepped down into the audience, who gathered around him to belt out, “Oh My God (It Still Means A Lot To Me).”

The entire show felt like a love-in. Both the band and crowd were appreciative, the stage banter was intimate, and the enthusiasm was high. Everyone is clearly glad the band is back home.