CJLO ＠ NXNE: Day 1

Under the crimson lights of the glowing, ominous CN Tower, I found myself stumbling towards my hotel room just south of 2 am. It had been a long day, starting with an early-morning ride on the Megabus (complete with a Megarainstorm and Megabumps in the road) and through a myriad number of short journeys to get to this spot, here in chilly Toronto.

I stood on Queen Street, watching technicians piece together the giant outdoor stage for Sunday's MuchMusic Video Awards, complete with giant screens, reflective surfaces and smoke machines galore with some amusement. I stood staring at this giant monument to commercialism and thought how ironic that a celebration of all things indie is capped off, incidentally, by a great big video party starring Hannah Montana. A sad truth, and a surreal juxtaposition to think about. I thought that this was a fitting introduction to four days' worth of NXNE x CJLO coverage... Either that or terribly self-indulgent. Take it as you will. I'm just spitting out words and making observations.

While most of the attention of concert goers here in Toronto was pointed north-east to the banner opening show (headlined by the Eagles of Death Metal), I decided to venture out to other pastures, willing to take a chance on something else. I've seen the Eagles of Death Metal and I'm sure that they put on a competent show, but part of the allure of a festival such as this is the ability to see new acts for short periods of time. With that in mind, I made my way down Queen towards Bovine Sex Club, a faux-dive bar with a netted ceiling and a security force in full effect, complete with earpieces. The Juicebox showcase offered too much to resist: a night of fast and dirty punk music in a sweaty and cramped club.

Good punk rock songs deal with three distinct, yet somewhat interrelated activities:

     1. Fucking shit up (aka disrupting the status quo)

      2. Being on the road doing point 1 (aka spreading the propaganda) 

     3. Getting your heart broken while living through both points 1 and 2 (aka the loss of personal relationships in order to achieve the greater goal).

Keeping that in mind, Toronto act !ATTENTION! tore through their half-hour set with youthful glee, keeping all three notions alive in their songs about being in the van and fucking shit up. The band stopped only to quickly tune up and catch their breaths three or four times during their set. !ATTENTION! definitely know which few chords to pluck for maximum effect and managed to get the crowd worked up enough to send a few willing souls up and to the side of the venue via half-assed crowd-surfing, throwing people up against the ceiling-cum-chainlink-net, and it looked kinda painful.

After !ATTENTION!'s rather speedy tear-down, midnight rolled around and a new act took the three steps that divided the crowd from the stage. The worst thing that can be said about Montreal (and CJLO-charting) act Dig It Up is that singer Mike Rokos has that fresh-outta-day-outpatient look to him. Bearded, a little portly, wearing a simple grey t-shirt, he commands the stage before him like the leader of a demented street gang. If I had money, I'd strap some cameras on him and chronicle his amusing adventures, and I'd call it "Rokos' Modern Life". Bad pun, great concept. Now, I'm not about to pull out the kneepads and call myself the official band fluffer, but the band's magnetic presence is undeniable.

Rokos, as well as the musical quartet backing him, put on a show that was nothing short of frenetic. While !ATTENTION! were all quick blasts of punk fury about work, the ills of society and a host of other quickly-announced topics, the MTL quintet displayed both punk rock fury and great glimpses into the musical chops of each band member. A quick guitar run here, an engaging bassline there... The interlocking guitar licks, the inventive drum patterns as well as a willingness to explore facets of other genres with gusto. Reminiscent of Black Flag, Refused, At The Drive-In, Hot Water Music and Every Time I Die, the band bridges multiple musical subgenres seamlessly.

Dig It Up also utilized what I think to be the best secret weapon a band can have in a live setting: tons of gang vocals. Sweaty, dirty, beer-soaked gang vocals were the order of the day, 'whoaaaaas' reverberating off the walls. The band played a few tracks off of their Magnets EP as well as their as-yet unrecorded full-length, mixing it up during their half-hour to ensure a grab-bag/sampler to get most of the club moving in some sort of capacity.

After a sweat-soaked set, the band's outside, full of adrenaline and smiles. I wanted to stick around for Toronto's The Video Dead at 1 am, but I know doing so will force me to fall asleep on the way back to the hotel, somewhere on the side of the street. In the hotel room I continue eyeballing the schedule and see that the Misfits are playing, and a debate ensues whether or not it's the real Misfits or a tribute band. The irony of that statement is lost on any of us as we sleepily make conversation before drifting off to the sounds of an honest-to-God videoflow on BET.

Tune into part 2 as I throw darts at the NXNE schedule and decide what acts to go see. Thrilling, I know. I can at least promise you there's a good chance I won't be seeing the giant outdoor shows, I'm gonna leave that for other people to discuss.