What happens when an imaginative kid finds himself in a series of creatively bankrupt jobs as an adult? What will he do when he's forced to grow up? "Emblogification Capture Device" is a humorous exploration of education, career, employment, lifestyle, politics and pop culture.
I've written before about the idiotic archetypes that often populate outdoor music festivals but after witnessing the U2 concert in Moncton just over a week ago, I feel compelled to give a specific example. So, without further ado here's:
Dave's Top Ten Signs That You Don't Belong At A U2 Concert:
The highlight of the show was playing with the inflatable beach balls.
You have to ask "Who's Larry Mullins (sic) Jr.?" when you spot a sign bearing the name of the drummer who started the band thirty-five f#@$%^& years ago!
If the mental catnip provided by the beach balls is trumped only by two fighter planes flying overhead then you may have taken a wrong turn en route to the airshow. First test to determine if you're in the wrong place: ask yourself if you've heard "Rock You Like A Hurricane" by the Scorpions yet.
You stand as quiet as a church mouse while the bands are on stage but freak out like Steve and/or Doug Butabi whenever one of your baked-to-the-point-of-zombification cronies heaves into view.
For some godforsaken reason you're chronically obsessed with taking off and putting on your "kicks". My vote: keep those funky-smelling canoes sealed in their leather coffins.
Your concert attire of choice: a flat-brimmed Moncton Purple Knights (?) ball cap, baggy pants, a blood-stained wife-beater and facial hair so spotty and nasty-looking you look like an understudy to the cast of The Hills Have Eyes.
You have no qualms about getting back to your place by plowing though people like a bull moose with an erection.
Your girlfriend looks as if she would take a cyanide capsule without pause if it were offered to her.
You're willing to risk life and limb to smoke up even while standing in the cross-hairs of a security guard who looks as if his only other gig was killing hippies during a Rolling Stones gig.
Gang signs are your default method of greeting.
EPIC: Classic...
FAIL: This amazing doc captures the ultimate concert security FAIL.
I just saw Wintersleep and two other stellar up-and-coming bands (Rah Rah http://www.myspace.com/rahrahband and Besnard Lakes http://www.myspace.com/thebesnardlakes) last week and I came to realize that I never did complete my live music series. So, here's a brief summary of some of the more memorable shows that followed in the wake of Pearl Jam's stellar gig:
The Dixie Chicks August 8th 2006. I was an instant fan of the Chicks after seeing their Shut Up And Sing doc from earlier that same year. These gals exhibited amazing musicianship during a very lively performances and kept me more than amused with plenty of now-vindicated Bush-bashing. Not to mention the fact that the crowd that night was, by far, the nicest smelling bunch of people I've ever had the pleasure of being surrounded by at the Metro Center.
This vid quality is pretty crappy here but it's still a fine example of the band's amazing live sound (not to mention the sing-along proclivities of their rabid fans!). Enjoy:
The White Stripes July 13, 2007. I never thought in a million years that indie darlings The White Stripes would ever play in Halifax. Mercifully, thanks to Jack White's ties to the region, we were a shoe-in for a stop during the Under Great White Northern Lights tour of our fair country.
Leading up to the gig, it was fun trying to anticipate where their legendary "secret show" might take place. It turned out to be the understated Locas Pool Hall. Here's a peek:
Well equipped with earplugs this time, I survived their formal auditory assault one night later. It was a real privilege to witness first-hand the borderline eerie, near symbiotic on-stage relationship between Jack and Meg as they picked up each other's cues and delivered the goods. The show was unpredictable, punishing, raw, exhilarating and certainly towards the top of my list of all-time favorite concert experiences.
54-40, Aerosmith, Cheap Trick July 24th, 2007 Although the venue (a former horse racing track outside of Charlottetown, PEI) and the logistics kinda sucked, the sound was great and that was all I cared about.
First off, 54-40 have had a tremendous career and they've produced an amazing catalog of awesome songs and albums. I would love to see a stand alone show featuring these guys and I'm always quick to rip on some idiot for thinking "I Go Blind" was written by Hootie and the Blowfish.
I've loved Cheap Trick since the dawn of time. I think their unique combination of a heavy sound, satiric lyrics (satirics?), and power-punk melody influenced a slew of my own musical heroes like Kurt Cobain, whether deliberate or not. It was a real kick watching several generations of music fans go nuts when the boys rolled out "Surrender". The older crowd knew the song since 1978 and the younger crowd likely had played it about a billion times over the past year in Guitar Hero II. Pure Gold!
Seeing Aerosmith represented a "circle is now complete" moment. My better half has been an eternal Aerosmith nut so it had been a real privilege of mine to get tickets for her to see her rock heroes live in Saint John, New Brunswick on Dec 29, 1993. Unfortunately a winter storm prevented her chauffeur from delivering her to the gig so the ticket and the opportunity went to waste. AAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!!
So, needless to say, the date in PEI was pretty friggin' important. A pre-internal-strife Aerosmith phoned it in like pros. It was a real thrill to finally see my honey groovin' to classics like "Love in an Elevator", "Same Old Song", "Cryin'", "Jaded", "Last Child", "Dream On" and "Walk This Way". No "Rag Doll" tho, so a bit of a BOOOO! from me, I'm afraid.
Here a snippet from that show:
Ozzy Osbourne January 26, 2008 Nicely completing my Metal Heroes Live trifecta (begun years before with Iron Maiden and Motley Crue), I was first in line for tickets when the Ozzman eventually decided to cometh. Amidst the epically haunting strains of "Carmina Burana" Ozzy hit the stage with the force of a low-level nuclear weapon. Though a bit wobbly on his feet and his well-toured voice wavered slightly, the sixty year old godfather of modern metal thrilled with a time-honored stage show which featured:
Charming homilies to the audience like: "“Go f#$@%^& crazy! It feeds my f#@$%^& soul!”
Blistering musicianship from expert shredder Zakk Wylde, hyperactive bassist Rob "Blasko" Nicholson, flamboyant keyboardist Adam Wakemen, and a real thrill for me, the punishing percussion of ex-Faith No More drummer Mike Bordin.
Ozzy blasting the audience with a foam-launching fire hose all the while assuring us: "Don’t worry, it’s not cocaine and it won’t keep you up all night!”
After spazzing out to "Bark at the Moon" Ozzy kindly treats us to a Moon from the Loon. Let me tell ya, you'd be scarred for life too if you saw that cottage-cheese like ass up on a jumbotron.
Sharon joins Ozzy onstage and the fans thank her for doing her part in keeping the star attraction alive this long.
Mike Borden rushes to the defense of a fan who mistakenly tumbles into "no man's zone" after catching one of his drumsticks. When security moves to turf the acrobatic audience member, Borden leaps to his defense and has him spared.
Zakk Wylde's 17 minute guitar solo leaves no eardrum unpunctured and no drunken slutty chick's shirt unlifted.
I can die somewhat fulfilled after hearing "Crazy Train", "Suicide Solution", "Mr. Crowley", "I Don't Know" and (for the love of everything unholy) "Paranoid" live!
Here's a little sampler:
Queens of the Stone Age May 13, 2008 Mere days before I'm scheduled to head off to Ireland and Scotland, I have the pleasure of taking in Queens of the Stone Age, one of my favorite alternative/hard rock acts. Standing amidst a bizarrely decorated stage, lead singer/guitarist/contrarian/goliath Josh Homme chain smoked and drank his way through a punishing and perverse set of blistering nu-metal. Despite the copious amounts of alcohol consumed on stage, everything was note-perfect and their flawless presentation was in the same league as those other musical machines of God: the Smashing Pumpkins. Truly amazing.
Don't believe me? There's tons of video evidence out there from this gig and here just one clip of many:
Wintersleep January 29, 2009
Wintersleep kicked off an unprecedented and amazing year for concerts that saw me taking in no less than six historic shows. After a work acquaintance lent me Wintersleep's self-titled debut album from 2003, I spun that f#$@% so much I began to wear it out. When the band came back to Halifax at the end of January, he practically dragged me to the Marquee to experience their live show. It was amazing, as promised.
After the also-impressive Plants & Animals (http://www.myspace.com/plantsandanimals) were done with us, Wintersleep took to the stage and delivered a tight, atmospheric, slow-burn set that drove the already-rabid audience totally nuts. As always, I was smack-dab right in the middle of the scrum and the coiled-spring energy of the band and the pogo mania of the revelers around me was contagious. Even though I wasn't completely familiar with all of their material at the time (something I've long since remedied), the mood was set early and maintained throughout the entire show.
Wintersleep are masters of crescendo. The centerpiece of this is a truly epic tune called "Nerves Normal, Breath Normal" from their second untitled album. By itself, this song is incredibly engaging, but coming at the apex of an already amazing live show that's been building, slowly, inexorably towards this moment, it's almost unbearably hypnotic. Here's the tune in question:
The drummer, Loel Campbell, really uses this as a centerpiece for a virtuoso marathon performance. Mop-haired double-threat Tim D'eon also tends to take this opportunity to climb atop a bar stool and lean into his keyboards like some sort of mad harpsichordist. Riveting stuff.
I've seen them two times since then. The second show was much longer (it had an intermission!) and was more informal since they were test-driving some then-unfamiliar material from what proved to be an awesome fourth album. The last show was plagued a bit by sound problems but in the last quarter, the driving relentlessness of the band kicked in and they were able to deliver in spades.
See these guys whenever you can. They are truly amazing.
KISS July 18, 2009 A massive crowd packed (and subsequently nearly destroyed) a wet and muddy Halifax Commons to witness "the hottest band in the world: KISS!!!" Well, not quite, but the boys can still put on a stellar show. Wisely doing their best impression of the legendary "Destroyer" tour (and jettisoning material from forgettable recent albums like Psycho Circus), this set leaned heavily on vintage hits and all the anticipated stage trappings.
Even with an ersatz Ace Frehley and Peter Chriss, the band completed the illusion in full make up, stage regalia, risers, flame-spouting guitars, high-flying wire acts, blood, and an orgy of pyro and fireworks at the finale. I was so close to the stage that when I made the mistake of looking up at the fireworks display at the end I got a chunk of shrapnel in the eye.
I also have to note that it was one of the roughest crowds I'd ever been surrounded by. There were tons of drunken meatheads or clowns who were there just because it was an event of some sort. I've never seen so many fights break out in a crowd in my life.
Seriously people, just because you got dragged here and would just as soon as take the ticket out of your wallet and burnt it rather then go, it doesn't mean that those around you aren't interested in oh, I dunno, enjoying the show! F#@$%^& ass goblins...
Regardless of all the chest-thumping and horn-locking going on around me, I still had a blast. Especially 'cuz I got to hear my favorite KISS song right away. Here's the show's stellar kick-off, featuring "Deuce":
Anvil, AC/DC Aug 6, 2009
I know how it feels when you want to see your favorite band live but you just can't get anyone to go with you. My buddy Andrew, like an inexplicably disproportionate amount of people in their early to mid thirties, is still laboring under the misconception that AC/DC is the best band on the planet.
Frankly, when I was getting into metal in the early 80's AC/DC was kind of passe at the time. It was widely regarded that their lackluster Flick of the Switch album likely signaled that the band's best days were behind them. Compared to metal juggernauts like Iron Maiden, Judas Priest and Ozzy Osbourne, they just weren't on my radar.
But when I got out of metal around 1987, they were actually starting to experience a major resurgence. By the time 1990's The Razor's Edge was released they'd completed a successful comeback just in time for a new generation of music fans to seize on to them as the flag-bearers of hard rock.
Slightly older folks like myself, however, had long since jettisoned AC/DC in lieu of the grunge movement. Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Alice in Chains and Soundgarden seemed like more sophisticated metal that it was okay to like without looking like a meatheat. Coupled with the fact that so many "classic" radio stations were now playing AC/DC incessantly, I was completely turned off by the band's interchangeable and one-note sound.
But Andrew really wanted to see the ancient Aussie rockers (actually most of 'em are Scottish) and since I'm all about the wish fulfillment (and my better half's family kindly offered to let us crash at their place) I promised to take him to the show in Moncton.
I have to confess that going into it, I was actually much more keen to see one of the opening acts, who's self-titled documentary Anvil! The Story Of Anvil really snagged my sympathies (http://apps.facebook.com/flixster/m/770682454).
Underestimating the time it took to trek to the concert grounds, we arrived a bit later than I'd hoped. Naturally, Andrew wanted to get a t-shirt to commemorate the event but with the lion's share of 67,000 people already swarming the site like intoxicated locusts, the merch tent was nigh-inaccessible. He went to wait in the massive lineup while I edged down the hill a bit to try and get a glimpse of Anvil as they took the stage.
Bless their hearts, they played their asses off and looked genuinely grateful to have scored such a peach opening gig. Lead singer/ace axeman Steve "Lips" Kudrow, drummer Robb Reiner and bassist Glenn Five
blasted the audience with an unrelenting wall of sound. It was a sonic symposium, a crunchy metallic battery of musical goodness. I really don't know if I could ever bring myself to buy one of their albums, but damn, you can't deny their technical abilities.
They also did due diligence in priming the audience for the much-anticipated headliners. During the lull, we had plenty of time to study the elaborate stage set up. Even inert it looked impressive. Next to the massive view screens stood a high-rise wall of speakers on either side, both crested by a pair of giant red, glowing Angus caps spiked with devil's horns. The elaborate cog, gear and pinwheel frame was studded with enough lighting fixtures to successfully guide a Boeing 747 into a landing in the field behind us.
As the sun went down and the massive concert grounds were enveloped by darkness, the amorphous crowd started to light up with a sea of blinking red devil horns that thousands of fans had snatched up before the show. Little wonder the merch tents had been so busy. The mind reeled when you thought about how much money these simple but unique little keepsakes had generated alone for the band.
When the band's high-octane introductory animated video began to roll, the decibel level from the crowd grew to deafening heights. It was almost as if we were all suddenly strapped into an out-of-control roller-coaster ride bound for rock n' roll nirvana. With the runaway train headed straight for the audience, the masterfully staged sequence culminated with a huge pyrotechnics explosion and an actual friggin' train crashing out onto the stage. Jesus Christos!
The band appeared and then launched into "Rock n' Roll Train" from their Black Ice album. The band was in fine form and well represented by one of the best sound systems I've ever heard for an outdoor concert. Replete in his trademarked "schoolboy" uniform, Angus Young shucked and jived across the runway like a bratty kid. Equally game was lead vocalist Brian Johnson who did his own patented sashay/strut around the stage. Considering the "Gargling Broken Glass" peal of Brian's voice and the untold abuse he's likely put it though on this tour alone, he represented very well. The band's accomplished percussion section (represented by bassist Cliff Williams and drummer Phil Rudd) laid down some relentless propulsion for Angus and fellow rhythm guitarist Malcolm Young.
Highlights included a fantastic rendition of "Back In Black", a chant-worthy "Thunderstruck", and a clap-along "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap". The high water mark for the entire show, however, had to be Angus Young's milestone guitar solo during "Let There Be Rock". Pausing only occasionally to grin devilishly and solicit enthusiastic "WOOO!"'s from the audience, the fifty-four year old guitar god displayed some one-handed showmanship of hammer-on's, crawled around the stage on his hands and knees, was lifted above our heads by risers, played while lying flat on his back, and ran around like a kid one-thrird his age.
I'm tellin' ya, we all need to look at acquiring our own Rock n' Roll pacts with Satan as we grow older. It seems to be the key to immortality.
A blistering encore of "Highway To Hell" and "For Those About To Rock (We Salute You)" completed the experience for me. Although I was loathe to admit it, I was converted. I had a fantastic time and the band certainly went up several notches in my eyes.
But I still don't own one of their albums. Maybe now that we have a local modern rock radio station that put a ban on AC/DC I may be able to take the plunge one of these days.
There's TONS of amazing video for this show. Here's a choice clip:
Modest Mouse Aug 17 2009
This was the show of the year for me and about a hojillion people packed like lemmings into the Halifax Forum's Multi-Purpose Center to witness these alterna-legends. By the end of the show, which happened to fall on one of the hottest nights of the year, I'd probably lost about five pounds in sweat.
The band played an intense set, trotting out a fantastic spectrum of tunes which nicely represented their eclectic catalog. Unfortunately the proliferation of ankle-biters gathered with their hands in their pockets obviously killing time while the band got around to playing "Float On" kinda got on my nerves. Despite this minor bring-down I thrilled to hearing "Satin In A Coffin", "Gravity Rides Everything", "Dashboard", "Satellite Skin", "The World At Large", "Education", "The View" and much more played live n' loud.
Alright, for all you crazy kids, here's "Float On", but just 'cuz the sound is so good:
Please come back, Modest Mouse. I lurves you.
BlondieOctober 30 2009 Good Lord. As if 2009 wasn't shaping up to the best year for concerts EVAR, punk/pop icons Blondie made two appearances at, of all places, the Halifax Sheraton Casino. For my better half, this was going to be an important concert, since Debbie Harry and company represented one of her first musical loves as a kid. She was initially put off by the steep ticket price, but knowing the importance of the show I bought two tickets for her birthday and we were off to meet our destiny.
Although the casino is truly my idea of hell on earth, we hoped that the intimate confines of the Schooner Room would overcome the staid nature of the venue. But when we were ensconced in our assigned seats, next to a couple of bloodless mummies who'd apparently gotten their tickets free through Players Club points, we feared the worse.
Sure enough, when the band came onstage none of the anal-retentive mannequins nearby made so much as a peep. To make matters worse, they actually glowered at us as we clapped, hooted and sang along.
Mercifully a bunch of kids familiar with the band's anarchic roots, rushed the stage. Unable to remain in place with our oil-painting company we joined them and started to dance, sing and well...do what you're supposed to do at a f%$#^* punk rock concert!
A platoon of scrawny security drones tried to force us back to our seats, but that didn't last very long. Turns out the band liked the club vibe and when we rushed up a second time, we were left to our devices.
And thank God we were. This turned what might have been a boring exhibition at an Arts and Culture Center into a rollicking punk rock show. Bemused by our rebellion and energy, the band played with the same passion and abandon. They genuinely looked like they were having a blast. It was surely one of the most memorable times when the attitude of an audience clearly effected a performance. The resulting symbiotic relationship resulted in one of the most memorable experiences of my concert-going life.
Plus, I never thought in all my days I'd ever find myself standing just a few feet away form Debbie Harry. Meeeee-ooooow!
I was hoping that someone might have recorded my favorite Blondie tune "Atomic" that night, but I can't find it. Oh, well, here's Debbie beating RUN-DMC to the punch with one of the earliest raps ever in "Rapture". Mad skillz, recognize!
Stone Temple Pilots Nov 24, 2009
I had a chance to see Stone Temple Pilots at a small venue when I was in Montreal back in 1994 but I blew it. When they broke up and the brothers DeLeo formed Talk Show and then Army of Everyone and Scott Weiland joined Velvet Revolver I thought those projects were still inferior to the flawed, yet amicable glory that was STP. I didn't hold out much hope that I would ever see this band live.
Well, when the side projects fizzled out and both parties decided they were stronger together then apart, rumors of a re-union began to swirl. Color me shocked when it was announced that a reconstituted STP would be blowing the roof off the Metro Center.
After an interesting set by Melissa Auf Der Mar's band, the boys ventured out onto a stripped-down stage and were all business. They quickly clobbered the audience with no-nonsense renditions of "Silvergun Superman" and "Wicked Garden". By the time they got to "Vasoline", the entire building was hooked and gleefully screaming along with the lyrics.
Favorites like "Big Empty", "Plush", "Interstate Love Song", and "Trippin' On A Hole In A Paper Heart" insured that my voice would resembled that of Mercedes McCambridge in The Exorcist. I love seeing a band live when you're so familiar with their songs that you can scream along. Murder on the pipes, but damn, it's a good time.
The band sounded fantastic and I'm happy to report that they all seemed to be in good spirits. Their last album was a bit of a mixed bag for me but I sincerely hope they stick around and keep hammering at it.
Here's a l'il sample:
Alexisonfire and Billy Talent April 15, 2010
Ever since I first heard the rage and unique sound of Billy Talent's "Try Honesty", I've always wanted to see them live. I got a great opportunity when they came to town at the Cunard Center as a twofer with pals Alexisonfire.
Alexisonfire is certainly one of the better "screamo" acts. How can you not love a band that describes their own sound as "two Catholic high-school girls in mid-knife-fight"? Truly their music is a perfect fusion of beauty and horror. Any given song can veer drunkenly from harmonious and melodic tones into bursts of guttural rage.
Their showing here really put them on the radar for me. They displayed a superhuman level of intensity and despite their ferocity, their sound is super-polished. They certainly made a fan out of me.
Billy Talent also didn't disappoint. If you could have harnessed the energy they expended that night for us in the name of entertainment you could power the entire eastern seaboard for a month. Now, they weren't trying to overcompensate for any lack of technical ability. They successfully replicated their material live with pitch-perfect precision but also weren't afraid to riff off in new and interesting directions from time to time.
This vid is great; it actually shows approximately where I was standing during this show and how boisterous and well-received it was by the audience. Electrifying...
Rich Aucion, Classified, Hot Hot Heat, Weezer July 24, 2010
One of my "bucket list" bands came to Halifax this year. After their now-classic Pinkerton album went over like a lead balloon back in 1996 it was rumored that Weezer might pack it in. They came storming back in 2001 with their Green album and have been knocking out records consistently ever since.
And even though their more recent material hasn't reached the creative heights as their debut album, Pinkerton or Maladroit, I've always had them on my top five list of must-see bands. Four days after my fortieth birthday, I finally got my wish.
Sort of.
See, the boys got entangled in an ill-conceived outdoor music fest organized by a promoter who obviously didn't know his ass from a hole in a mini-putt course. Instead of creating a festival with a consistent theme (like all pop, all metal or all alt-rock) these clowns thought they could suck the masses in my trying to appeal to everyone.
So we got this Frankenstinian patchwork of a concert featuring The Jimmy Swift Band and The Stanfields for local fare, Classified for the urban market, Rich Aucoin, Hot Hot Heat and Weezer for the alterna-crowd and - Sweet Baby Jesus - The Mother-F#@$%^ Black Eyed Peas for people dropped on their heads as children.
Soooo, basically, I knew a slew of people that really wanted a full set from Hot Hot Heat and Weezer but refused to buy a ticket for fear it would go towards a free lunch for the f%$^&' Peas. Plus I also witnessed a slew of simpletons standing around watching Rich Aucoin, Hot Hot Heat and Weezer trying to figure out what these bands were doing with all those odd accessories and accouterments. By the way, they're called instruments, you tools.
But, if it got me a chance to see one of my favorite bands of all time, I'd fiddle for the devil. Well, on to the autopsy. The Stanfields bored the piss out of me. The Jimmy Swift Band was interesting and original at least. Rich Aucoin gave a spirited performance and did what he could to engage the the limited (and confused) crowd. His creative use of samples, overdubs, props, witty lyrics ("We are not dead, we are UNDEAD!") and crowd surfing (?) really won me over.
Classified's stocks, on the other hand, fell a couple of points in my eyes. I loved the smart and patriotic rhymes I'd been made familiar with by osmosis with singles like "Oh...Canada" and "Anybody Listening" but his stage show kinda fell back into the stereotypical trappings of a typical rap act. Considering how many kids were in attendance it seemed kinda in bad taste to me to constantly drop f-bombs and blaze up a big fatty on stage. Didn't bother me, but kinda seems stupid for such a clearly clever dude to be frontin', is all.
Hot Hot Heat was fantastic, but were probably left wondering "What the hell are be doing here?" Looking like Carrot Top's...well, like Carrot Top used to look before he hit the juice and the eyeliner, lead singer Steve Bays climbed the risers and stacks to try and engage the near-static audience. Sorry, guys, but the two of us could only make so much noise for you...
Here they are trying vainly to spark some audience participation amongst the slack-jawed troglodytes standing around:
As a giant gold-lame curtain bearing the band's name was readied I suddenly became terrified for Weezer. I knew there were a lot of people around me who were there to specifically to see them, but I feared that the majority of mouth-breathers standing around wouldn't have a clue how to react. As it turned out, my fears were unfounded.
There was a time when frontman River Cuomo considered being the frontman of a rock band to be a bit of an albatross around his neck. More recently, however, he's come to see the importance of his role. By taking on touring drummer Josh Fresse, this frees up usual skinman Pat Wilson for guitar duties, thus allowing Rivers to launch into full audience engagement mode.
And engage he did. Rivers attacked the stage like a hypoglycemic kid after horking down an entire box of Frosted Flakes. At once he could be seen bounding off a trampoline, co-opting camcorders, tossing inflatable beach balls into the crowd, stealing headwear, destroying a guitar, running along the outer fringes of the audience, heaving rolls of toilet paper into the gathered, climbing a tech tower and usurping the camera, and was willingly groped by a pack of hoochies on the beer patio. He seemed obsessed with getting close to people, engaging their attentions and making an impression.
His bandmates displayed some fantastic on-stage camaraderie. Dynamic bassist Scott Shriner cut a mean grove while clad in an appropriately bitchin' kilt. Guitarist Brian Bell rocked out and got a chance to quote some the Bard (he and Rivers had taken in Shakespeare By The Sea's performance of Twelfth Night the day before!). Drummer Pat Wilson looked like he was having a blast. Moving to the forefront on guitar really let his on-stage charisma come through.
They played the lion's share of their first album and a slew of their best-known singles. It's was almost as if they would have taken great personal umbrage if every single person there wasn't watching them at all times. To engage the kids who's interest in music obviously went back no further than three years, Rivers and company broke out a brilliant MGMT and Lady Gaga mash-up just to make sure they were all paying attention.
Some other notable spectators could be seen standing just off-stage. At one point in time all the members of the Peas (Wil.i.am, Fergie, Josh Duhamel, even the the Asian dude) were standing in the wings, looking suitably impressed. It was almost like they were taking notes on how to entertain an audience and, in turn, shitting bricks that they had to follow such an engaging and well-received act.
Anyway, enough blabbering about the gig. Here's one crazy clip amongst many:
My only gripe about the performance: it wasn't two hours long. God, I hope they come back and ditch the baggage this time! And I ain't talking about just Fergie...
After they vacated the stage, we wormed our way out of the crowd towards the exit. Most people were still standing around trying to figure out what they'd just witnessed. Many of them looked like they'd just been clubbed in the head with a railroad tie.
Thank you Weezer, for showing these kids what a real outdoor rock show should be like. They took a crowd of 20,000 people and made it feel as if we were seeing them in a small club.
As we left the concert ground before our sights and senses were assailed by the f$#%^&* Peas, security stopped us and said:
"Wait, you can't leave!"
"Why not?" I returned.
"Because if you leave you can't get back in!"
"Is that a promise?" my better half asked.
They stared at us as if we were nuts. Why would someone pay a hundred bucks and not even bother to stay for the headliner?
Well, as far as I was concerned, we'd just seen the headliner.
So, the Sherlock Holmes-types amongst you may have already puzzled out that I'm kind of a music geek.
Ergo, I'm also a fan of live music. Having just experienced the second-best concert-going experience of my entire life at the ripe old age of forty a mere few days ago, I thought it time to explore my history with bands in the flesh.
Wow, I totally just made myself sound like Pam Des Barres there. Oh well, it's a fair cop...
It kinda sucks being a music nut growing up in a small town. You may have found something that you're passionate about, you may even encounter a couple of similarly-minded people to hang out with but the chance of your rock idols playing anywhere close to you live is pretty friggin' remote.
Especially if you live on an isolated spike of rock in the middle of the Atlantic. Remote, indeed.
My penchant for metal saw me hanging out in High School with some guys that were in a band. We were all identifiable as so-called "Bangers" by our distinctive uniform:
ONE STANDARD-ISSUE BASEBALL METAL SHIRT
(Preferably Maiden, Ozzy, Zeppelin or Crue)
ONE BLACK UNADORNED LEATHER JACKET
ONE PAIR OF TESTICLE-CRUSHING JEANS (PREFERABLY BLACK)
ONE PROTOTYPICAL AND FAIRLY RIGHTEOUS MULLET
My first experience with live music was actually courtesy of our school's unofficial metal/rawk mascot band. I can't even remember what they called themselves; all I remember is being in awe at their bravery and inherent coolness while they played Journey's "Stone In Love" like clockwork at every High School variety show.
The reality is, they were probably just trying their best not to look and sound too much like Degrassi Jr. High's "Zit Remedy":
When I got to university in the beautiful city of Halifax I completely snapped on live music. Within the first week my concert-going cherry was broken at one of the Saint Mary's "Bashes" at the Tower, courtesy of Canadian New-Wave outfit "The Spoons":
I have to confess that I spent most of the show making goo-goo eyes at the impossibly hot Sandy Horne. Mutter, mutter...stupid restraining order...
I was in lurve. Not just with a hot professional chick bassist but with the experience. I began to see concerts, like sporting events or live theater, as a set of particularly unique circumstances that will never happen again. The memories you generate from events like this become little amber-frozen moments that are precious and timeless.
Before I grow too maudlin, let me prove my point. As a fourteen year old squirt growing up in Stephenville, Newfoundland I would never in a million years thought I'd ever see Iron Maiden live in concert. But on January 13'th, 1991, a young metal-head's dream came true.
Before the show we went to drink over at friend's house. He'd moved off-campus to a place on Robie Street (affectionately dubbed "The Swamp") to swill a bit of moonshine before the show. After one blast of this high-octaine space-shuttle fuel I remember thinking to myself:
"Hey, dumbass! Stop drinking! You're about to fulfill the dream of a lifetime by seeing Maiden live and what?!...you're gonna get so drunk you won't even remember it? That's f#@$&^* stupid!"
No amount of coaxing, torment or peer pressure could needle me into another drink. To this day I never drink before concerts. Why pay a hundred bucks only to stand around swaying in place, mouth agape, not even noticing when someone hits you in the face with a frisbee?
Anthrax opened up for Iron Maiden and put on a phenomenal show. I wasn't a fan of theirs at the time because I'd gotten out of metal when it became "thrashy" but Anthrax was flawlessly tight, high-energy and didn't take themselves seriously. I'm still a fan of theirs because of that night. I thought my buddy Mike was going to have a conniption during their performance of "Indians".
I myself went totally bat-s$#^ nuts when Maiden finally took the stage. This was during the "No Prayer On The Road" tour and rumor had it that the show would be very stripped compared to, say, the "Powerslave" tour. When the stage was revealed I realized they weren't kidding. All we got was a curtain with the album art back-projected, a modest stage arrangement which still allowed frontman Bruce Dickenson to indulge his penchant for acrobatics and a cameo by mascot/inspiration to all career-minded zombies "Eddie" (The 'Ed).
I spent the entire show balanced precariously on the backs of two chairs so I could see everything on stage. During the infrequent song breaks Bruce Dickenson apologized for a head cold that was wreaking havoc with his usually operatic pipes and for a more sparse stage set than normal. At the time he claimed that a cargo ship which was carrying a ton of their gear as ballast had sunk a few days prior while en route to Halifax.
Over the years I'd come to think of this as total bulls#$! until I "Googled" this just minutes ago:
Regardless of the crazy circumstances (and the lack of Adrian Smith's presence) I have nothing but fond memories of the show. By the end of it I'd screamed my voice into oblivion while belting out such trachea-rending faves as "Wrathchild", "Hallowed Be Thy Name", and "The Number of the Beast".
Here's l'il sampling. TURN IT UP!
I was now completely addicted to the live music experience, which was further intensified by seeing bands in smaller venues. Diverse, exciting and eager-to-please domestic acts like The Barenaked Ladies (detailed here: http://emblogificationcapturedevice.blogspot.com/2010/07/clothes-make-man.html...yer humble host), The Doughboys, The Grapes of Wrath, The Pursuit of Happiness, Sloan and The Watchmen all impressed me to an extent.
The amazing Leslie Spit Tree-O, for example, did a series of very wild and interactive shows. I remember standing by the stage quite often with Mike and lead vocalist/free spirit/interpretive dancer Laura Hubert who often would humor our requests for songs.
Well, here's a request I'll expect to have honored when I become Emperor of Canada: I decree that Leslie Spit Tree-O will promptly drop everything their doing right now, re-unite and perform the song "Falling Star" live on a constant loop until I demand otherwise!
*Hurm*, I couldn't find "Falling Star" but this will nicely exhibit their prodigious harmonic talents:
To drive home how important it is not to drink too much before a concert, I must tell the sorrowful tale of my friend Mike. In the early Nineties, we were all collectively (and somewhat inexplicably) fans of "Bootsauce", Canada's answer to the "Red Hot Chili Peppers". In fact, if memory serves, it was actually Mike who first introduced us to them. Here's a sample from the "Much Music" video archives:
Anyway, every member of my inner circle just loved these guys to death and it took forever for them to come to Halifax. When the announcement came that they were to finally going to pay a visit to the late, lamented "Misty Moon" on Barrington Street, we were on the cusp of major upheaval.
This came at the end of a school year and just before we all moved out of the house we shared together. This was to be more than a mere concert. It was a signpost, an exclamation point, a sure omen that a glorious era was coming to a close. There was no better time nor occasion for one last big group hootenanny.
We counted down the days before the show. Finally the big night came and most of us got psyched by playing the band's albums incessantly. Mike, however, decided to prepare for this auspicious event by getting completely obliviated drunk.
Even to this day we still struggle to convince Mike that he was even at the show.
"Dude, trust me! You were there! You had the time of your life!"
"Nope! Didn't happen! Never saw 'em!"
"But you and Colin sang 'Love Monkey #9' with the lead singer, for f#@$%'s sake!"
Word to the wise, kids: heed me on this one!
And now I'm gonna contradict myself a bit. One time drink saved my life, but it wasn't because I drank before the show so much as during and immediately after.
We'd seen Toronto Ontario's King Apparatus before and had a blast with their quintessential brand of punk, ska, energy and witty lyrics. When we learned of their return to our fair city at the late, lamented (I grow weary of writing that) "Double Deuce" our presence was not so much suggested it was required.
There was just one little thing standing in the way: the weather reports were reporting b-a-a-a-a-a-d s#!% that evening and threatened to derail our fun. Well, it almost did for about five minutes, but we quickly decided "f#@% it" and went anyway.
Undaunted by the weather warnings and doomsayers we grabbed our long-sleeve shirts (jackets were a pain in the ass to check in, sometimes costing half the price of a drink, fugedabouddit!) and made our way to the "Deuce" during blizzard conditions. Despite the terrible weather, a rabid little crowd had gathered to watch the band bounce through their modest catalog of grooves like "Hangin' On", "Five Good Reasons", "Made for T.V." and this appropriate ditty:
The show was a blast. Me, Mike and our unlikely-but-stalwart ally Colin sang, drank, bounced, shouted and danced (read flailed, moshed and pogo-ed about spasmodically) until the end of the set, totally oblivious to the dangerous, whiteout conditions just outside the door. After the show I bought a concert shirt (likely where my penchant for such things first started) and settled in for an evening of heavy libations.
Eventually we closed the place down and got kicked out into what has since become known as:
THE STORM OF THE CENTURY
That's right, folks, we staggered home during the gale that sunk George Clooney's boat. Mercifully it did grow relatively mild somewhere along the trek, but it left two or three feet of packed slush to swim through, since we could all barely walk.
I'm not exaggerating here, Incredulous Reader, we swam most of the way home. Which is pretty incredible since I really can't swim. With my blood steam awash with enough alcohol content to paralyze a gazelle, I was well insulated against the elements but I seem to recall that Colin prevented me from drowning a few times by hauling me to my feet using my belt. At one point in time Mike picked up my t-shirt which I'd lost and was now adrift a few yards back.
I still remember us crawling up the steps of our rented townhouse on Lucknow like exhausted survivors on a desert island and a housemate slowly opening the door to appraise as if we were nuts.
Good judge of character, that one.
Another seminal act that we took in without fail was Saskatoon, Saskatchewan's Northern Pikes. You may laugh now, but back in the Early Nineties, these guys could do no wrong. Their song "Girl With A Problem" was like the de facto theme song for half the girl on our sister floor in residence:
I recall nearly dying of heat prostration when we illegally packed like lemmings into the "Misty Moon" to see these guys entertain about a hojillion crazed fans. The crowd was sweating, the band was sweating, the glass work in the place was sweating. I'm sure I lost four pounds on average during every one of their shows.
Sadly nothing stays the same, which proves the old adage: see your favorite bands now, folks! Don't wait 'til it's too late.
We now know that internal strife within the band soon caused trouble in paradise for the "Pikes". The last Saint Mary's "Bash" we saw them perform was pretty mournful. It's as if all the life and joy had been sucked right out of them. Things hit rock bottom years later, when in 2001, I saw them play a spirited but slightly pitiable show at "Key Largo's" in Lower Sackville for a small handful of fans, slack-jawed yokels and overweight families too distracted by their chicken wings to even pay attention.
Also during this time Metallica's self-titled "Black" album was swiftly becoming one of our soundtrack discs. I had the privilege of witnessing them destroy our Metro Center on February 10, 1993 with the following unrelenting set:
Enter Sandman
Creeping Death
Harvester of Sorrow
Welcome Home (Sanitarium)
Sad But True
Of Wolf & Man
The Unforgiven
Justice Medley
Through the Never
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Fade to Black
Master of Puppets
Seek & Destroy
Whiplash
Nothing Else Matters
Wherever I May Roam
Am I Evil?
Last Caress
One
Battery
I still remember just how flawless their sound and presentation was. They used their diamond-configured stage to entertain the audience of ten-thousand as deftly as if they were playing a small club. They were like perfectly programmed metal monster machines who's only function was to blast your face off and leave you bludgeoned, pantless, deafened and whimpering for your mommy. The pyro alone was enough to ensure your head was completely devoid of eyebrows by the end of the show.
Here's some proof:
Ahhhh, I long for the days when Metallica didn't suck.
I also had the privilege of seeing my life-time favorites "The Tragically Hip" go from cultish club darlings to consistent arena-packers. Their tour in support of the "Fully Completely" album was riveting. The band used beautiful and evocative back-screen projected art to keep the audience wired. At one point during the song "Courage (For Hugh McClennan)" the band threw up the house lights and I distinctly remember entering some sort of weird concert nirvana. I looked up and for one amazing moment it seemed as if I could clearly see the faces of every one of my fellow revelers around me, bullet-time style. It was a fantastically communal and borderline tribal moment.
Alright, I know what you're thinking: (best read in voice of Phil Hartman as Frank Sinatra) "You may not have a meetin' with the minds with Jack Daniels before a show, but you're smokin' somethin'! Lay off the funny stuff, Ringo!"
You can think this all you want but I maintain: it's all natural baby! That's concert magic in action! Or it could have been a contact high...
The experience with "The Hip" was also aided considerably by Gord Downie's constant stream-of consciousness ramblings. I still remember his first words to me as an audience member. At one point in time between songs he just looked down at the roiling sea of humanity below and calmly observed:
"I like to think of all of you as the sperm and I'm the ovum."
One of my favorite concerts to this very day also occurred during this era. It was Dread Zeppelin at the "Misty Moon". For you poor uncultured bastards out there who don't know who Dread Zeppelin is, here is their Wikipedia entry:
"Dread Zeppelin is an American band best known for performing the songs of Led Zeppelin in a reggae style as sung by a 300 pound Vegas Elvis impersonator."
And let me tell ya, baby, this is just as awesome as it sounds. Here's a vid:
We got ready for the show by renting dread lock wigs from "Boutilier's Costume Shop" in Dartmouth, which was kind of an unfortunate choice for me because the black wig with the red bows I got stuck with sorta made me a dead ringer for comic book scamp Little Lulu.
We also procured some "Rick's Fine Foods" pre-cooked hermetically sealed hamburgers using our meal cards as a gift for lead singer Tortelvis, who had a penchant for munching on such offerings mid-concert.
The place was packed and we managed to weasel our way next to the stage. We were nearly crushed by the throng of Zep/reggae/Elvis crazed lunatics. At one point one of our numbers got up on stage, flailed around a bit like Kermit the Frog on crystal meth and than promptly dived back into the audience, which promptly parted like the Red Sea. He was nearly killed in the process.
Good times.
Stay tuned folks, more concert tales are a-comin'...
