Monthly Archives: May 2009

The GZA/Genius

March 24 @ Commodore Ballroom

Review By Quinn Omori

Last time the GZA rolled into town, he reminded a packed house at Richard’s why his other stage name is “the Genius,” rapping his way through Liquid Swords from front to back. This time around, the show wasn’t advertised as a full run-through of his solo debut, but the set still leaned heavily on the hip-hop classic. Nevertheless, while the rest of his output has been spotty, the featured tracks from the latter part of his catalogue were well chosen. The thing that threatened to kill the show wasn’t the songs themselves, but the set order.

As good as the more recent tracks are, few of them live up to the songs that make Liquid Swords the finest Wu-Tang solo joint. With that in mind, the GZA’s decision to play the most recognizable of his classic tracks in the first half of the set was a strange one. It made for a riveting first 40 minutes, but things started to drag a little after that. That is, until a surprise guest made his way on stage.

Apparently, Talib Kweli’s a pretty big fan of the Genius, because he stuck around in Vancouver after his own show the night before just to check the GZA out. A “way too drunk” Kweli was called on stage to freestyle while the headliner shook hands with fans and signed autographs. His level of intoxication meant he wasn’t quite as sharp as he can be, but even a tipsy Kweli was pretty impressive.

At the end of the day, the GZA solo wasn’t as compelling as the entire Clan coming together like Voltron, but it was still worth checking out.

Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy | Pillars & Tongues

March 25 @ Vogue Theatre

Review By Alex Smith

Will Oldham is notoriously prickly when it comes to the media, so I wasn’t particularly surprised to see his back petulantly turned to the photographic corps during their brief allotment of shooting time. As it turned out, the evening was characterized by this obstinacy—but it was strangely charming.

Openers Pillars & Tongues, though they made an interesting din of droning, wailing and free-form percussion, can only be said to have benefitted from the Vogue’s theatre-seated, captive audience—if nothing else, their subtleties would have been drowned out by chatter in a bar setting.

When Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy and band took the stage, it was easy to spot a certain pained awareness of their recent prominence in Oldham’s manner. And why not? Having recently been featured in The New Yorker, in addition to other uncharacteristically high-profile press coverage, he cuts a somewhat different figure than the man whose last Vancouver appearance was so joyfully informal at a church hall in Kitsilano. Well-known songs from his monumental back catalogue were mostly eschewed in favour of more obscure material: although he played at least one track from almost every record he has released, numbers like “I See a Darkness,” famously covered by Johnny Cash, were conspicuously absent. The show also had a high proportion of material from his latest release, Beware, which, frankly, is not his best work.

Still, in a career which now spans 15-plus years, Oldham has earned the right to his eccentricities. Palace-era gems like “The Brute Choir” and “There There Is No-One What Will Take Care of You” combined with a number of reworked Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy tunes (the solemn dirge of “Nomadic Reverie” became a rollicking country tune) to create a set which highlighted the quality and magnitude of Oldham’s oeuvre without relying on predictable crowd favourites. In any case, all was forgiven with his brilliant cover of R. Kelly’s “The World’s Greatest,” and he left the stage with a sudden flourish of Southern charm, a final unexpected moment in an evening that was both disconcerting and oddly satisfying.

Art Bergmann | Poisoned

March 26 @ Richard’s on Richards

Review By Mark Paulhus

For one night only, Vancouver punk trailblazer Art Bergmann of the K-Tels/Young Canadians and Poisoned came out of hiding in Alberta to perform in support of the release of Lost Art Bergmann, a collection of songs that Bergmann originally recorded for his 1988 solo album, the John Cale-produced Crawl with Me. Richard’s on Richards was filled to capacity with the ghosts of Vancouver punk’s past—faces more often seen on stage or in the back lounge at the Railway Club on Saturday night. The unpredictability of the forthcoming event added to the excitement.

Openers, TV Heart Attack and Rat Silo, were well received and did a great job of warming up the eager crowd. Then the stage was prepared for the main event, guitars resting against their amps, the jet black drums high above the stage, and a pulpit standing empty, waiting for its preacher. At last, Bergmann wandered out from the back room to a roar of cheers. Swilling a bottle of beer, he took a seat on the floor and leaned against the pulpit while the rest of Poisoned took their places: Ray Fulber picked up his bass, Susann Richter dusted off her keys and Taylor Nelson Little scaled the riser to his kit. The band was also joined by the infamous Tony Baloney, filling in for Bergmann on guitar.

The band kicked in as if 20 years hadn’t passed, and the aged front man proved he hasn’t lost his spark—or his appetite for tequila. During the first song, Bergmann was quick to get rid of the stool provided for him, using the pulpit and mic stand as props. In between songs his antics were questionable and his banter indecipherable, but from time to time his clever wit shone through as he took jabs at the likes of Gordon Campbell and promised the imminent death of Ticketmaster. The band rolled on through classics such as “Junkie Don’t Care” and “Bound for Vegas,” playing the songs with pride as Bergmann captivated the audience with his wavering sanity. As the furious set came to a close, the exhausted musicians were relieved to quit the stage, but the crowd wasn’t having it. After a few minutes of thunderous applause, Poisoned came out and played one last song.

Mirah | Tara Jane O’Neil

April 3 @ Biltmore Cabaret

Review By Becky Sandler

Although Mirah’s visit to the Biltmore was her second show in Vancouver in less than a year, it felt like quite a bit more time had passed. (a)spera is her first solo release since 2004’s C’mon Miracle, and in the years between these two records, Mirah has performed relying on just her guitar to play her earlier material. However, for this trip, she successfully added a backing band to emphasize the strings and structure of her new songs, and reworked her old music to be just a bit grander.

The crowd showed up early, and waited patiently until 10 p.m. when the opening act broke the quiet banter of the groups of friends scattered throughout the Biltmore. “My name is Tara Jane O’Neil, and I’m looking to get gay married!” deadpanned the petite songstress, before launching into a satisfying collection of yearning electro-folk songs, backed only by a drummer. The extended guitar-jam outro to her last song went just a bit too long, however, reminding concertgoers how long they had been waiting for Mirah.

Despite sharing the stage with a bass, drums, keyboard, violin and second guitar, Mirah remained clearly at the centre of attention. After beginning with the exquisite “Skin and Bones” from (a)spera, Mirah alternated between new material and classic songs such as “The Dogs of BA” and “Look Up.” The only moment eyes shifted from Mirah was when the backing guitarist picked up the kora, a 21-string West African harp-lute, to play the exceptionally beautiful “Shells.” Ending with a dance remix version of “The Garden,” Mirah showed the evolution of her performance. She closed with the same song back in August at Richard’s, but a version much closer to the recording. She continually retools her older songs to fit her evolving sound, which is why she is worth seeing again and again.

However, just talking about music doesn’t give a full account of the performance. I’ve seen Mirah four times in three different cities in the past five years; in her performances, the urgent emotions of the lyrics are palpable, and remind the audience of their own connection to her songs. The nostalgic moments spent listening to her music—summertime road trips, wintertime hot chocolate chats or walks to and from bus stops—are remembered fondly and with renewed warmth. Judging by the faces of the crowd surrounding the stage, I wasn’t alone in feeling a little bit overwhelmed. But I keep coming back, because when music creates that kind of pathos, you never want to let it go.

Women | Nü Sensae | Kidnapping Church of Very Bright Lights

April 5 @ Wise Hall

Review By Justin Langille

This had all the promise of a grand evening. Calgary psych-noise innovators Women were slated to play in the dim-lit, nostalgic ambiance of East Vancouver’s Wise Hall, a suitable venue for their fuzzy noise-pop sound. As the headliners, Women dutifully played last, but were afforded far too little time on a bill filled with comparatively mediocre opening acts. Kristin Cheung, organizer of promotion collective Vanity Presents, explained that the shortened set was due to Wise Hall’s residential setting and the possibility of violating noise bylaws if the show went past midnight.

Church of Very Bright Lights began the night, lamenting the fact that they had come from Calgary to play only five songs. Unfortunately, their music mirrored this apathy somewhat, sounding like a Pixies inspired hobbyhorse shared between drinking buddies.

In comparison, Vancouver’s Kidnapping was a welcome revelation. The trio’s sound was explorative and unpredictable, floating through bleak, melodic freak-folk balladry (“City”) into the futurism of New Order-ish synths (“The Dance of Petrified Conditions”).

Beers were poured and conversation was had while Nü Sensae took the stage. Singer/bassist Andrea Lukic and drummer Daniel Pitout tried dutifully to tear the crowd a new one with their raging spurts of punk, but not everyone in the audience was dialed in.

When Women finally assembled, busy lead singer/guitarist Patrick Flegel openly stated to the crowd that it was going to be a quick set. Songs like “Black Rice” and “Group Transport Hall” received rushed treatment, with Flegel singing like the fast forward button was on. Even newer songs with more intricate composition and improvised sections got pushed through. Whether they were tired from waiting around all night or they felt pinched because of time constraints, Women’s performance lacked some of the usual sonic charisma and ceremony that makes them a sight to see.

AIDS Wolf | Shearing Pinx | Twin Crystals

April 4 @ Biltmore Cabaret

Review By Quinn Omori

Less than two years ago, AIDS Wolf came to Vancouver to play a show so packed that it had the Emergency Room (R.I.P.) busting at the seams. Their next visit, in support of a better record (their latest, Cities of Glass), attracted about a third of the audience. And their most recent appearance saw even less people turn out. Because of the sparse attendance, the early show at the Biltmore got pushed back as far as possible, resulting in a brief but intense evening of music.

Twin Crystals started things out, mentioning that they now had a mere 20 minutes of performance time, due to the delays. Surprisingly, the short set time made them even more enjoyable, as they crammed almost as much music as usual into a non-stop, high-energy set of their aggressive brand of punk rock.
Shearing Pinx followed, setting up on the floor so AIDS Wolf could set up on stage simultaneously to save time. I’m not sure if it was the fact that they were closer or if someone just decided to crank up the volume, but they were almost painfully loud. It wasn’t the most comfortable listening experience, but it fit with the discordant nature of the band’s music.

Give AIDS Wolf some credit. The lack of an audience didn’t seem to faze them at all, as they turned out a performance that was just as intense as their previous visits to Vancouver. They were loud, they were animated, and they threw everything they could at the people who were smart enough to show up. Hopefully, if they decide to come back again, those people bring some of their friends.

Acid Mothers Temple | Kinski Sonic Suicide Squad

April 7 @ Biltmore Cabaret

Review By Darren Gawle

Sarcasm, from what I hear, is a very un-Japanese trait, making the between-song banter by Acid Mothers Temple even funnier:
“Oooh! Are we Japanese noise band? Are we… experimental? Ooh! From underground! We are the experimental band! Oooh! Even more so than… Captain Beefheart!”

It should be noted that the last part of that quote was delivered by guitarist Makoto in a falsetto several octaves higher than the rest.

Right, then—so the “e” word won’t be used in this review. Let’s say that the openers, New Jersey’s Sonic Suicide Squad, are not experimental, then—their extension of Ornette Coleman’s or AMM’s experiments in free music from 40-plus years ago might struggle to find relevance today, if in fact the need to “free the music” is still entirely relevant. SSS go so far beyond the concept of freeing the music from human conceits that they’ve brought it back to an idiom of pure sound. Progress has become regress, and SSS captures it in a primeval gumbo of saxophone, drums and synthesizer. Occasionally, a brief semblance of melody was discernible before disappearing into the chaos. Experimental? No: this genre’s real experimentation ended 40 years ago—this is an application of the research. And according to a number of audience members, you can bang your head to it, too.

Acid Mothers Temple is a voyage around the collective musical consciousness of the group. Inspired by experimentalism? Yes, but nothing happened onstage to really challenge any musical preconceptions. The music was free to wander as it pleased, meandering though traditional Japanese sounds played on electric guitar, accompanied by what sounded like Shinto chanting. The band’s signature tune, “Pink Lady Lemonade,” featured a delicate, extended acoustic intro and stretched out to nigh on 45 minutes. There was a lot of sonic scenery along the way, the intro eventually leading into a full-on electric reading of the song, with the rhythm guitar holding the groove down (via an arpeggiated riff akin to Public Image Limited’s “Poptones”) while a dialogue between bass and synth ended with what sounded like either a quote or a piss-take on the Doors’ “The End.” This was a show which rewarded closer listening—with Acid Mothers Temple, the devil’s always in the details.

Tucked in between Sonic Suicide Squad and Acid Mothers Temple on the bill were Seattle’s Kinski. No strangers to performing with Acid Mothers Temple, Kinski unfortunately sounded positively conventional between two more exper… uh, I mean between the two other bands. Pity, as Kinski would shine brighter in a different context. The band was compelling to watch, with deceptively simple chord-based arrangements which remained mostly instrumental and drove relentlessly as though powered by some cosmic orgone accumulator. [ed. It’s a crazy invention. Look it up. I did.] Positive comparisons to Sonic Youth or Swervedriver are in order, and the appearance of a flute during the last song of their set proved as welcome as the sun on a windy day.

Search Parties | Golden Touch | Markus Naslund

April 11 @ Kitsilano Showboat

Review By Gerald Deo

After a few changes of venue due to uncooperative weather and a series of frantic text messages about where the show was moving, I found myself standing outside the Kitsilano Showboat on a damp Saturday evening. As the crowd filtered in and settled on the soggy streetlit benches, I was surprised to see that the rain and the sudden changes in venue didn’t seem to have deterred anyone.

A distinct lack of equipment on stage (and of people setting up said equipment) was quickly explained away: the show was being held behind the Showboat, not atop it. We crowded into a concrete dressing room, with lights surrounding mirrors on the walls, bare tubes on the ceiling, and an amp and a worklight on the floor.

The B-Lines cancelled and were replaced by an exuberant three-piece calling themselves Markus Naslund. [ed. Hockey fans: Naslund? Exuberant? Ha, ha!] Proudly pointing out that they’d never played in a real venue, the three-piece filled the narrow room with energetic poppy punk. After a set which got the fairly well-packed crowd moving, a quick drummer change and mic readjustment revealed the Golden Touch, whose singer/drummer requested everyone move five feet forward, deeply into the space occupied by the musicians. Golden Touch launched into a set marked by crowd favourites, a couple of new songs, and a fair amount of pleasant banter. Although it was difficult to differentiate the two at times, both Markus Naslund and Golden Touch delivered pop hooks paired with a punk sensibility and had the steadily increasing crowd dancing harder with every song.

After a short intermission for setup and also to let the audience breathe some air that hadn’t already passed through someone else in their immediate vicinity, the dressing room was filled tightly for the Search Parties set, and they did not disappoint. Presenting all new material with a significantly larger feel, Search Parties somehow hit an unexplored point between stadium and post-rock, and lead singer Harlan Shore (who also organizes Dancing in Our Debt) reinforced the d.i.y. punk nature of the night with raw vocals and a previously unheard ability to scream.

As I squeezed out of the venue, I took a look back into the room and saw a united mass of dancing bodies, motion working its way backwards through the room, fueled by joy and transmitted by body contact. I escaped into a clear night surprised at how much I had enjoyed both the spectacle and the music of the evening; I doubt I was alone on that front.

Bob Mould

Life and Times (ANTI-)

Review By Nate Pike

Thirty years ago a trio of teenagers formed a kick-ass little band called Hüsker Dü that went on to become one of the most influential and commercially successful punk/hardcore bands of the day. When Hüsker Dü called it quits in 1988, Bob Mould went on to record the first of nine solo albums (not including Sugar or his LoudBomb electronic music output) that comprised a body of work ranging from folk-acoustic to the furious hardcore of his days past.

Life and Times sees the artist revisiting his roots from an observant and personal point of view. Life, aging and the dynamic of relationships gone pear-shaped play heavily in the 10 tracks that make up this record, which is a varied and healthy mix of acoustic, electric and a bit of punk. Be it the angsty and biting title track, or the hard as nails, controlled chaos of “MM17,” Life and Times is full of self-inquiry and speaks a language nearly anyone can understand.

The album’s best track, the lovely but mournful “I’m Sorry Baby, But You Can’t Stand In My Light Anymore,” explores a failed relationship. When Mould sings the line, “I always find the broken ones / so what does this say about me?” who among us can’t relate? Quality music from an old favourite, Life and Times is a mighty addition to an already great body of work.

Casiotone for the Painfully Alone

Vs. Children (Tomlab)

Review By Miranda Martini

It says something about a man when his chief fixations are felonies, dead or absent parents and spouses, and unplanned pregnancy. Chicago native Owen Ashworth extracts a surprising range of emotions from these subjects on Vs. Children, the latest release under his project Casiotone for the Painfully Alone. He finds new life in classic poetic tropes—the beat-up old car with a history, the doomed bank-robbing lovers, the pregnant neglected wife—and also throws a few curve balls of his own into the mix, like the startled couples dealing with unplanned pregnancy on “Killers” and “Harsh The Herald Angels Sing.”

For all of his fascination with the most raw, poignant facets of humanity, Ashworth completely resists sentimentality. His songs paint deliberate, exacting portraits of his characters, into which sympathy only rarely makes an appearance. His deadpan delivery, set to the backdrop of a stomping drum machine, underscores the detached, observational tone of the album. While this controlled approach is brutally effective and often beautiful, listeners may find themselves wondering what would happen if Ashworth would allow himself to let go of his restraint. The only hint of a crack in his hipster reserve comes on “Optimist Vs. The Silent Alarm (When The Saints Go Marching In),” when he briefly loses himself to the giddy abandon of the escaping couple in this Bonny and Clyde-esque love story. It’s a welcome moment of release on a stunning and well-crafted album.

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