Hayden, you are such a talented man. Why, oh why, must you have such shitty fans? The concert on Tuesday night at the Danforth Music Hall (where everyone seems to play in the last two years…) was excellent. The crowd was obnoxious. What was possibly more impressive about the whole, disjointed affair was Hayden’s cool management of the situation. Faced with a sea of nameless faces, heckles emanating from nowhere, he employed simple, ironic dismissal when ridiculous comments were launched:

Drunk Fan:    “HAYDENNNN PLAY [insert song title]“
Hayden:          “No.” or “Why?”

What a talented man Hayden is. Yes, he is also good looking, but his talent surpasses the asthetics of his curly locks. The show mostly consisted of him on stage, variously playing a guitar, harmonica, piano or another bizarre instrument (think, foot drum.) One of my favorite songs, “Bass Song,” involved the full use of his forearms, banging against the piano in what was the most melodic, well, banging I have ever heard.

His banter was, as always, hilariously self-deprecating. He refered to his two “optimistic songs” which by all accounts, were far from optimistic. The first, is off the new release In Field & Town: “More than Alive”.

One day more of you alone
There’s everyone but no one to show
That you’re more than Alive

You drive alone every night
through windows see other who’d like
to be more than alright

Now, is it just me, or is that wholly depressing? I thought so. His other “optimistic” song is about trying to convince a friend to leave their shitty lover (“Carried Away”). I guess that’s a warm and fuzzy thought… He played this song with clapping from the audience, all the while explaining he was struggling to learn to play to clapping. And of course there was the obligatory “sing-a-long-section”, which could be the reason he classifies the song as “optimistic”. Yes, it is true – it’s hard to feel gloomy when you’re singing “la, la, la, la, laaaaa, la la” at the top of your lungs, particularly when accompanied, or rather led, by a gorgeous man.

Don’t be scared to leave him
You’ve been sad all season
You should think of something to say

Maybe you should tell him
That from the day you met him
You’ve been liking him less and less

But Hayden can also be incredibly sexy. And it’s not just because of his good looks (have I mentioned those curls yet?) The combination of his deep, throaty voice and longing lyrics make for a killer song. Here’s an excerpt from my favorite example of that genre, “Starting Over” off of Elk-Lake Serenade.

Your legs are at the door
I’m feeling good and I want more
But you’ve got one thing on your mind
It’s leaving everything behind

And I feel like starting over
More now, as I’m older

Come on now, come over to me
Drop your skirt down past your knees
If this is the last we ever meet
Let’s go out in style and see

If you feel like starting over
Or you’ll look back when you’re older
At times we had together
And realize there was nothing better

“Starting Over” is also an excellent example of Hayden’s true strength: the short song. The man can pack more feeling into a minute and a half than any other musician I’ve heard. Now that’s what I call talent. And yes, the looks don’t hurt.

I am scheduled to write my GRE tomorrow. Given that I have been quite lackadaisical in my studying, I can hardly be described as punctilious. But despite my indolence, I have noted that a few of my favorite lyricists use circumlocution to create poetic semantics. We’ll call this an encomium to the preeminent artists possessing prodigious vocabularies:

The Weakerthans:
While this blog is a bit of a panegyric to the Weakerthans, I think it is warranted. John K. Samson, I aver, has the most temerity when it comes to challenging lyrics. While, at times, this can make is sonorous music a tad recondite, one still gets the gist despite his arcane word choices:

“As December tries to dissemble the length of its working day.”- Dissemble: “conceal the true identity of something or someone.” This means December, since the days are so short, makes workers feel that they are toiling more than usual, thereby masking the true identity of their time and effort.

“We eulogized fondly, we dug deep and through…Before I spill the things I mean to hide away / Or gauge my eyes with platitudes of sentiment.”- Eulogized: “to speak in praise of someone, particularly after they have died.”; Platitudes “meaningless remarks that are true but not of interest, often cliches.”

The Books:
“He willed away the miles while quixotically attempting to reclaim his inner child” - Quixotic: impractical, in reference to the character Don Quixote.

Any favorite obscure words used in lyrics?  Leave them in a comment!

Despite my love for Jenn Grant’s album Orchestra for the Moon, I must say that she could do with a class in naming songs. The last three titles should capture my meaning quite simply: “Rainy Day,” “White Horses,” and last, but not least cliche, “Blue Skies.”

While she may not have talent when it comes to writing titles, Grant is a young master of the lyric. My favorite track off this all around solid album is the awkwardly titled “Unique New York.” As an earlier post commented, Grant tends to write unconventional song arcs – she goes from a high school slow dance to a crashing wave beat on almost every track. While “Unique New York” is no exception, it works well here. The song opens with a whimsical love story between a flying man on one side of the Manhattan island and a lady on the other. Either that, or it’s about a suicidal man. Despite such a potentially dreary reading of this track, the beginning has a powerful drum and an upbeat tone:

The car is parked outside your front door
But you don’t even travel for an hour anymore
Since you learned to fly
From your apartment window it’s nearby

And for now
This is all you’ll ever be
For now it’s better than something you have in between
And for now
This is all you’ll ever need
And I’ll be waiting at the shoreline for you hopefully

Then, there is a sudden switch to the slow-dance sequence, which laments her unseen love:

Lately I’ve noticed that you haven’t been around
And I guess it must be cosy on the other side of town
But you take the ferry boat ride
Waiting for the moment someone will arrive and sing
Ooooh la la, Ooooh la la

And then the whole thing picks up again, which is where she sounds like a clone of Cranberries frontwoman Dolores O’Riordan, which makes me suspect that Jenn Grant, with her fiery red hair, may have some close Irish ancestors:

When you feel that
It’s quittin’ time just
Look up, see the sun is on the rise
Ooh oh, ooh oh ooh. On.
Ooh oh, ooh oh ooh. On.

It’s this last, kick-ass verse that makes me like this song so much. Grant employs a lot of sunrise imagery throughout the album, which gives the album a nice hint of rebirth. “Morning Break” as the title implies, is a classical example of this theme, and it opens the album on a warm note. Still, overall, it can be a sad album. Lyrics like “I wanted to find another way to look at you, but everybody’s saying I’ve got way too much to lose,” and “Now you’re telling me that like a wave into the ocean you fell away from me” can kill the mood a little.

Grant has a far reaching range of styles on Orchestra for the Moon. Some tracks like “Sound of Success” have hints of Regina Spektor, while others have a distinct ring of klezmer music, and still others sound faintly like a country album gone indie. Her use of her voice as an instrument is a common technique throughout, which again, reminds me a bit of Ani DiFranco, but mostly I mistake her for O’Riordon. I would bet good money that Grant grew up with The Cranberries‘ albums as staple listening.

Finally, she is hard to tell apart from Joanna Newsom on “Rainy Day” both in terms of her cadence and lyrics. Oh, and there’s the harp. But there is more structure and sense in this song than 90% of Newsom’s eclectic tracks, so you can tell that it’s Grant and not Newsom.  The O’Riordon lilt helps with that.

Definitely a good album to add to any solid collection of folky-Canadian music sung by rich voiced ladies. Jenn Grant sits nicely between Julie Doiron and Jill Barber, so it’s not surprising Jill herself is on the album (where? I don’t know yet.) With quality production by Glenn Meisner, David Christensen and Jason MacIsaac and catchy lyrics to match, this CD is worth a listen. Too bad the single “Dreamer” takes repetition a step too far. Grant would do well to listen more closely to BSS, who have mastered the art of redundancy at the brink of breakdown.

“Best lyric on the album” thought of the day: “Saying you’re a good daughter, oh oh oh, saying you’re a good father, oh oh oh.” – Jenn Grant, “Morning Breaks”

“Someone else’s thoughts on the matter” link of the day: Here’s a more positive review of Jenn Grant live.

For the past month or two, we’ve been considering moving. After having my bike stolen from in front of our apartment and being offered a free place to live for two and a half months, we’ve finally sealed the deal.  January first – a new year, a new place.

Which has got me thinking about “music to move to” – not move your body, shake your ass, but move some boxes, break your back. An obvious first track is the new “Sun in an Empty Room” off of the Weakerthans’ Reunion Tour.  It calls to mind how empty everything is, with only white walls left, just before you hand in your key:

Now that the furniture’s returning to its goodwill home
With dishes and last week’s paper
Rumors and elections,
Crosswords, our unending wars
The black on our fingers smeared the ink on every door pulled shut
Now that the last month’s rent is scheming with the damage deposit

Take this moment to decide (sun in an empty room)
If we meant it, if we tried (sun in an empty room)
Or felt around for far too much (sun in an empty room)
For things that accidentally touched (sun in an empty room)
…
By parallelograms of light (sun in an empty room)
On walls that we repainted white (sun in an empty room)

I love the idea that furniture lives at goodwill, with brief ventures into different people’s lives. This imagery is exactly what it feels like to move: white walls, doors pulled shut one last time, sunny, sentimental endings. There’s nothing like empty rooms to make you realise how much you loved a place.

This song instantly reminded me of the classic Barenaked Ladies track, “The Old Apartment.” For those unfamiliar with the Canadian music tome, the whole song is hilarious, but these are the best, nostalgic bits.

Why did you keep the mousetrap?
Why did you keep the dishrack?
These things used to be mine
I guess they still are, I want them back

Broke into the old apartment
Forty-two stairs from the street
Crooked landing, crooked landlord
Narrow laneway filled with crooks.
This is where we used to live.
…
Broke into the old apartment
Tore the phone out of the wall
Only memories, fading memories
Blending into dull tableaux
I want them back

One final, good Canadian track about the days of renting apartments that we all seem to go through is Sarah Harmer’s “Basement Apartment.” She first recorded this track when the bad Weeping Tile was together in the late-90s.  I like the version off Eepee quite a bit more for it’s rough around the edges sound.

Now the toaster sticks
And the empties are piled
I haven’t been up the stairs in awhile now
I gotta wash the sheets on my bed
Gotta watch the things that go unsaid
God I wish we’d leave it at this

This is a different kind of “song to move to” – it’s a song to inspire you to move, and to change your life and your sheets.  The last stanza is curious.  Perhaps a reference to a commonplace Canadian habit of crafting smoking paraphernalia from plastic bottles:

We always said that we were different
But you know now that we weren’t
‘Cause there’s holes in all the bottles
And my lungs hurt

Any other songs that inspire you to get packing?

I’m sure (almost) anyone who went to last night’s or Wednesday night’s show was completely enamored with The Weakerthans. True to form, they were high-energy, hilarious, sad, poetic and everything in between. Despite the fact that the show went from 9:15 until almost 1 am (!) – which I suppose is value for your money though not for your knees – it was a grande evening.

The major reason for the never ending event was the two openers – Christine Fellows and Jenn Grant. Christine had a very interesting band set up and the music sounded like a cross between Joanna Newsom and the Amelie soundtrack. They were all quite talented, and you got the feeling that if you listened to the lyrics some more, you would find there was a lot to discover. I will say, however, that despite my general love for depressing music, sometimes Fellow’s lyrics were a little too depressing! I hope she writes some happier songs in the future.

Jenn Grant was a mixed bag. Neither good nor bad – she was both. She was all over the map, as was her band. I suppose they’re just very young and full of childlike energy, so I won’t give too harsh of a review. I will say, however, that song arcs are a place for great improvement. Each tune went from quiet-folky intimacy to excessive spleen (or, as we would say in GRE speak, extreme “iracibility”) and back again. As my boyfriend put it, each track most closely resembled “Bohemian Rapsody” in terms of its direction. This becomes exhausting quickly.

Still, Jenn Grant has a nice voice, which sounds, variously, like Jill Barber, Julie Doiron, Delores O’Riordan (The Cranberries), Shania Twain and someone else. In other words Jenn Grant is all over the map – she needs some focus. As a side note, her violinist is, evidently, quite talented – or so says my boyfriend who was once her stand partner. Yes, the east coast can be a small place.

Sometime around 11:30 (!) the Weakerthans finally (formally) graced us with their presence. It was nice to see them again. Which is the thing about the Weakerthans and Toronto – they’re always here! But no one seems to mind – they still sell out shows. It was all very high energy and I must say, I’ve never seen them with such large grins! They played old stuff, new stuff, and I enjoyed it all. Even “Pamphleteer”, which I don’t typically like, was quite nice. A full set and two encores later, all of which included guest appearances, I was pleased but ready to go home. I wake up before 9 people!

The entire evening was more like a camp reunion than a rock concert, with various members of the 3 bands performing in all 3 sets. At one point, some evidently famous person on the Canadian indie-rock scene walked on to sing a duet with Jenn Grant . Who this person is, is entirely unclear to me. He sounded a touch like Antony Hegarty, but clearly he wasn’t. I’m sure someone will “out-indie” me soon enough and post “you stupid, it was X cool person”. There – that’s a challenge. Figure it out and you will take the Canadian indie prize from me. (Update: it was Ron Sexsmith – I figured this out listening to the Vinyl Cafe)

My one criticism of the show (which is not the venue – the Phoenix – which I generally hate) is the crowd. The crowd was obnoxious – somewhere between a high-school senior girl whose hair matched her three friends’ haircuts and a middle-aged obnoxious trekkie who talks to loud. The only people I seemed to get along with were the early-30s lesbians. Except the one who bitched me out for picking up a nickel in line at the coat check. Plus no one was rocking out, even with the 16 year-olds in the room. Come on people – show your age! What happened to the campus radio station crowd and my former drama teacher who once lived with the Bassist? I didn’t mind them. Here’s hoping they’re back next time!

“This is something fun I can do today” link of the day: Check out another sweet CBC radio 3 recording – read my Reunion Tour review for the first link – of John K. Samson and his lovely wife Christine Fellows. In case you were wondering, yes, they do do a wonderful rendition of “Benediction” together.

“I still don’t have enough to do” second link of the day: This is the concert I will always regret missing – until now! Yes, you can listen to the ENTIRE Sarah Harmer & The Weakerthans CBC Radio 3 recording online. One question – where are the duets at? Yes, the Sarah Harmer rendition of “Left and Leaving” is as amazing as it sounds.

Who likes to read old news? I do! In the spirit of procrastination I bring you a concert review from June of this year.

I was in Quebec learning le francais earlier this year. Mon francais est ameliore mais ce n’est pas parfait – sa c’est seulement le realitie! Quebec City, or simply “Quebec” en francais is a marvelous little place. If it wasn’t for the winter weather (think ice storm and army rescue) I would love to live there.

I will admit that when I saw The Reminder on the stands this spring, I did not buy it. Let It Die is good, but overrated. And the fact that so few songs were written by Feist makes much of the CD weak. (I think Feist herself realises this.) And I won’t even discuss Open Season – in short, I felt like my good $40 was enough money spent on Feist for one lifetime.

But then, there was a concert and I would be in town – why the hell not. Plus Chad VanGaalen, who I love (see next post) was opening. He was wonderful by the way – one of the few times I’ve wanted the opener to play an encore – or two! He played lots of new stuff, and I can’t wait to hear the new album, due out sometime soon (according to Chad himself…)

The concert was excellent – easily in the top three concerts I’ve ever seen. The Imperial Theatre is a great venue, with excellent views of the stage, and the set up was stunning. There were these gorgeous christmas lights strung from one end of the stage to the other, each row a different colour, and they would flick on and off in different patterns depending on the music playing. Very exciting! On another aesthetic note, Feist was wearing a very beautiful white dress, looking quite bohemian, which I enjoyed – the link has some beautiful photos, check them out. She’s a pretty lady.

And the music was excellent. Her stage act boarders on hokey, with the amount of audience input she demands. But it’s fun! A rare interactive experience. By far, the most interactive was when she forgot the words to “One Evening” and invited a member of the audience to join her on stage to sing-a-long and help her remember the lyrics. It was so marvelous to see this girl begin hopelessly petrified and finish the song feeling entirely empowered. The entire audience was really into it! (Her friend also happens to have a blog, and you can read about it here.)

Mon ami francais happens to have filmed a bunch of the concert, so you can judge the concert for yourself on YouTube. “My Moon My Man” was excellent, perhaps outpacing the 80s inspired music video. The whistling at the end is a direct feed into the next song, “The Park.” And for another taste of the interactivity, check out the audience’s adept clapping in this version of “When I Was a Young Girl”.

In short, if you get the chance, see Feist live. Though, really, she’s coming to Toronto in the new year and I didn’t buy tickets. Lame, I know, but there are just too many concerts lately! And besides, sometimes one amazing experience is enough that you don’t want to tempt fate and spoil it by replacing the memory with a bad experience.

“Things are wonderfully nostalgic in the fall” lyric of the day: 1,2,3,4 tell me that you love me more. Sleepless long nights, that is what my youth was for. Oh, teenage hopes are alive at your door. Left you with nothing but they want some more.” – Feist, “1234″, The Reminder

“Things are so pretty” link of the day: In case you need more videos, check out how talented Chad VanGaalen is! “Red Hot Drops” is my favorite of his beautiful music videos. Look at the little creatures flying!

Chad VanGaalen is on the brink of big. Really big. After a tour with Feist (who is now really big), and a short list nomination for the Polaris, in addition to being awesomely talented and putting on a great live show, VanGaalen is gonna be great – at least in the Canadian sense of the word. What can I say? Mark my words – He’ll make it big.

My favorite song of his is quite short – “Build a Home Like a Bee”. The imagery and setting isn’t quite clear, but there’s a sense of being underground and in motion, as if the protagonist is on a subway, staring at a stranger across the aisle.

With all the points of glowing light
With all the panes of mirrored glass
I don’t have have to look at you
I can stare at your reflection instead

Cause you don’t know me at all
But I’m sitting across from you
Don’t blur out with underground effects

You don’t know me
But I’d like to build us a home in the trees

I also really enjoy the contrast between the imagery the song sets up – metal, glass, mirrors – and the twist at the end to a yearning for the natural – a tree, a reverence for the impeccable workmanship of bees. Yet, it’s a yearning for the human space in nature: a home, our archetypal view of bees. A very romantic idea – in both the sense of the 19th century transcendentalists and the sense of simple, idealistic love.

These days, I think many of us living in various concrete jungles, can relate to such contrasts; our disconnection from nature feeds this feeling of wanting a ‘home in a tree’. VanGaalen’s music often captures the sense of alienation in modern society – take, for another example, the song “Blood Machine,” which sets up some kind of dystopian reality in which people are communally dependent on a machine for life:

They had cities built there
Buried deep underground
People had their hearts plugged in
To a giant machine that could circulate blood

Please, please, please
That’s all they could say – is please, please please
Help us escape
From the blood machine
Help us escape
From the blood machine

One of them explained to me
How they used to be free
Before the machine got built
And before there were laws regulating free will

Reading the lyrics out like this might make the whole thing sound preposterous and far from lyrical, but the song is oddly intriguing and addictive. It strikes at this feeling of alienation and lack of control. Many of VanGaalen’s lyrics are ridiculous, but the free wheeling images he creates is exactly what makes his writing so attractive.

On a final note, VanGaalen is probably the only famous person (apart from academics) that I’ve met. I talked to him after the Feist concert in Quebec City this spring, and pretty much gushed about his music to him. Yeah… I didn’t exactly ‘play it cool’ – hilariously embarrassing for my friend who I was with. Made for a good laugh at any rate! In general, I don’t think meeting famous people is my thing. Just let ‘em be! They’re just people after all! He seemed very nice at any rate.

“Things are funny” lyric of the day: “Pterodactyls. Abandoned Pianos. Your stepdad’s bongo drums. The snails that live inside aquariums.” Chad VanGaalen, “Wing Finger”, Skelliconnection

“I think I was write” fact of the day: Sara did indeed say she was living in a house in Australia post-So Jealous touring during the Danforth show a few weeks ago. I have no idea how long she lived there, but that is where the pigeon story took place! This blogger ain’t wrong – on that fact… I think.

Upon further listening, I feel my initial, cursory exploration of the new Craig Cardiff album, Goodnight (Go Home), might have been a tad bit shallow and narrowly focused. In other words, the CD is growing on me. In a big way.

Cardiff is, principally, a stellar songwriter. The title track of his album, “When People Go,” is the most bubbly take on death I’ve ever heard. But despite the deliciously syrupy music which accompanies, the lyrics are still heavy with emotional weight:

When people go
When people leave
Makes some people cry
Makes some people drink

When people go
When people leave
It’s the saddest thing

When people go
Is it like they’re asleep?
Lost to the world
In the longest dream

Like when boats at sea
Never come back
Is it like that?

I think it’s gonna be
Another long night
I think it’s gonna be
Another long ride

He conveys the fallout people face as a result of death perfectly: some people cry, and others drink. The metaphors in this song, which he described as writing for his young child, are both playful and overwhelming.

I particularly like the last major verse, or perhaps we could call it a bridge. His imagery is the perfect balance between cliche and fresh insight, which may just be the magical formula for good songwriting; where the familiar meets the unique.

Dizzy in the head
Broke in the heart
There’s no business
It’s all art
Until it’s far behind
And it all comes back

When people go it’s so sad
So sad, so sad.

As Cardiff commented at his recent Toronto show, this upbeat music has caused a number of his college fans to use the song as a “clearing out the party” track to get people to, well, GO HOME. It’s pretty funny to think people would miss the heavy death imagery, but then again, not everyone pays attention to lyrics.

“Let’s all use less energy by turning off our computer tonight” lyric of the day: “Rolling blackouts, put out the light. Let the sun go down. Bring on the night, put our blankets on the floor, ’til the power gets restored.” – The Constantines, “Hotline Operator,” Tournament of Hearts

This blog is rapidly turning into a concert reviews site rather than a lyrics blog. I suppose now that I’m out of school, I go to a lot more concerts. Plus, there appear to be more good concerts this fall than there were all summer in Toronto. How bizarre. When I was younger, I always longed for the summer big-band shows; Radiohead and Coldplay in particular spring to mind. But this year, I didn’t make it out to a single show in the summer. Nothing was appealing enough for the big ticket price.

In contrast, there are so many good shows this fall, I don’t know what to do with myself! Tegan and Sara, Ani DiFranco, Jose Gonzales, The Weakerthans, The New Pornographers, Iron & Wine (which I attended and didn’t enjoy), and most recently, Craig Cardiff.

For those of you who haven’t heard of him, Craig Cardiff is a folk-singer-songwriter, popular with the campus and camp crowds. It’s the kind of music your friend gives you a burned copy of as a ‘no good reason for it except its so good’ present. He has a viral fanbase that doesn’t always buy his music. But then again, who ‘buys’ music these days? Shockingly, I do.

Cardiff’s new album, Goodnight (Go Home) is produced by Les Cooper, who also plays guitar in Andy Stochansky’s band, has something to do with Jill Barber (!), and has a beautiful, though entirely disfunctional, website. Unlike his earlier recordings, which have a rustic, recorded in the basement feel that is oh-so-appealing for folk musicians, this latest album sounds, well, professional. It’s a lot more easy listening, a lot less rough and perfectly imperfect.

The show was great. Cardiff has the ability to command the audience’s noise level with a simple undulation of his voice downwards. All his music, filled already with intentional semantics, becomes even more meaningful in person. He’s worth seeing live if you get the chance. And given that he’s going on tour, including through the US, you might just get the chance.

That said, Cardiff complained during his show on Friday night at Hugh’s Room, a beautiful folk venue on the west side of downtown Toronto, that he’s sick of hearing people tell him his music isn’t ‘radio ready’ enough. This, he claims, is the basis for the song “Maybe You Should Drive”. A close listen to the lyrics does not make this intended meaning very apparent:

It sounded less like Don McLean
And more like Lenny Bruce
I’ve been wrapping my head around your idea
Of truth.
Oh, is it truth brought out in fear?
Or the truth put on display?
Or the truth when people leave,
And people go away?

Maybe you should drive.
Shut your eyes closed,
Shut your eyes and read between the lines.

The verses are clear enough, but the chorus is just a nice hook. He seems to be implying that it’s people’s fear that causes them to not like his folky quality. Hmm – bizarre thought. It’s a decent song at any rate, even if his intended meaning is unclear.

But there’s an irony here. If he was so pissed off by people telling him his music wasn’t professional enough, well, he certainly made the professional CD that was wanted. And the thing is, I don’t like it quite as much. It’s a little too Andy Stochansky – a little too squeaky-clean pop. It’s still good, but his re-recording of “Dance Me Outside” doesn’t ring quite as true as the first version of the song off of 2001’s Happy. But musicians do change, and we should, of course, allow them that liberty. It’s just a little surprising that he should do just the thing that he’s complaining about not wanting to do.

I wish I knew this before the show, but you can download his new album from a USB key for 10 bucks! Five bucks cheaper, and a lot less crap to take back to your already over-stuffed apartment. Exciting. Very ‘In Rainbows,’ which I have neglected to download… yet.

If you’re looking for another review of this album, check this out.

‘Things are hilarious’ lyric of the day: “Find the aeroport at 7AM, my heart pumping pure mini-bar. Sit on the concrete by the carts and some girl, throws a dime in my lap. You won’t be laughing when you hear, how this one ends. So I sleep through the entire flight.” – “Relative Surplus Value,” The Weakerthans, Reunion Tour

‘Things are looking up’ thought of the day: Gore and the IPCC!

I wasn’t expecting much. Between my hot and cold feelings for The Con (developed solely through listening to their Myspace profile), and my increasing distaste for The Danforth Music Hall as a Toronto venue, this was looking like it wouldn’t be a great show.

Oh the joys of pleasant surprises!

Is it just me, or do people sometimes have tickets to shows they never make it out to? While Tegan and Sara were touring So Jealous, I had tickets to the Phoenix, but after an exhausting pre-dinner with a friend, I blew off the concert. How good could these two girls really be live?

In short – they’re great. Between the hilarious sister banter, which if you have a sister makes the whole thing even more funny, and the beautiful harmonies they sing together, these girls are grade A performers. I even found myself enjoying their slightly-too-loud-for-my-taste new album.

The structure of the show was also interesting. They played around 5 new songs and then told the audience they’d play an ‘old stuff set’ before returning to the new material. Given that I often find the balance between old and new stressful at concerts, this was a very calming and enjoyable solution. Perhaps a trite comment, but the set list worked for me.

Highlights? A hilarious story told by Sara about guiltily evicting a pair of breeding, pigeon lovers from her balcony when she was living in Australia. The sisters’ banter about their violent tendencies during adolescence. Tegan’s ‘early days of touring’ story about writing “My Number” because no one ever called her. Oh, and there was also the excellent music. My favorite was the last song they played, “Living Room,” which had the cool-audience clapping along as if they had suddenly been transported to a hoedown. “Divided,” done as a solo act with the two twins, was gorgeous, soft, acoustic and filled with fleshed out harmonies not found on the original recording.

That’s what I like the most about the show – the twins were able to take their music as it is on the album, and make it something just a little more on stage. It was neither the “whoa – this doesn’t sound like the same album,” nor the “and I might as well have brought my walkman” experience. The perfect blend of creativity and replication.

Plus the sound guy/gal wasn’t incompetent. A small miracle given the unbalanced sounds I regularly hear from so-called ‘professionals’ in this city.

On an unrelated note, I read up on the Pitchfork review of So Jealous. 3.6/10. What the fuck. That album is amazing. At least a 7.5 by complacent hipster standards. Chumps.

“Things are getting better” lyric of the day: “You slip your hands inside my pockets / tell me nothing else would do / without me you can’t live / You slip your heart into my chest / they both become one of the / strongest pairs when strangers come.” Tegan and Sara, “And Darling,” If It Was You.