CJLO @ NXNE: Day 3

It's really a perfect storm.

Either that or it makes for quite the mess.

 

Either way, I digress. Who gives a shit about philosophical ranting in faraway cities when there's music at hand?

 

The day kicked off rather early as our man Omar Goodness was drafted, at the last second, to be part of a NXNE panel that was essentially a demo derby. The gist of it was simple: artists sumbitted demos to the panel, along with sets of lyrics. The panel (which included major record label scouts and other assorted illumating figures) would render judgment. Omar tried his best to be nice, but sadly that was short-lived. A quick quote from a response to a song towards the end of the panel: "This kind of music makes me want to put a gun to my head." Yes folks, he really speaks from the heart. All was not lost, though, as a few acts showed genuine talent and originality, which made suffering through the 90-minute panel a little more pleasant.

 

I decided once again to ignore the bigger shows, such as the Yonge/Dundas Sloanstravaganza in favour of striking out on my own and picking bands at random. I took a street car up Dundas to College and got off, quickly heading east to my first find of the night: The Neutral Lounge. Located in the basement of a commercial complex, the dingy setting really cheered me up... The smell of floor cleaner and the fact that I could go pee and stare at insulation somehow made me giddy. What made me even more giddy, though, was Toronto act The Futureless. Three clean-cut dudes in sweater vests and hoodies, rocking out with a menagerie of laptops in front of them? Count me slightly excited. Their set was all crashing waves of harsh beats and tasteful atmospheric layers of music, a melange of darkwave and straight-out ambient tunes. Subdued in tones, the trio managed to built up musical pieces to satisfying climaxes, the payoffs dancy and noisy.

 

UK act spaceships are cool look like an earnest bunch of young adults whose pop sensibilities (as well as love of a variety of instruments) they proudly display for all to see. The high point of their set was definitely the ever-present use of a theremin to add dramatic effect. I ended up texting a variety of people with the words 'THEREMIN, SHIT YEAH', though the reason why I did that wasn't all that clear. Perhaps an over-eagerness to see an instrument utilized properly. Either way, the band put together a decent 35-minute set, seeming happy to just be playing in another country. Their mellow melodies and vocals reminiscent of Built To Spill's Doug Marsch quickly won me over, though the false starts to a few of their tunes showed that they were perhaps a tad nervous. It's all forgivable, though, as their Mountain Goats On The Moon shtick (complete with astronaut uniforms) thankfully had more substance than their gimmicky costumes promised.

 

Sandman Viper Command's set at Sneaky Dees offered little in the way of a pleasant auditory experience. Their guitar-heavy brand of folksy indie rock (think Titus Andronicus, minus the parts that make TA fun) at Sneaky Dee's did little for me, the high point being the melodic vocals reminiscent of mid-period Beach Boys. I regretted my decision to check them out and headed out to the Bovine Sex Club, where I was told there'd be honest-to-God hard rock with real guitar solos.

 

That little tidbit turned out to be true as I made my way through the door just as Netherlands act De Staat were finishing up. They were in the middle of a furious jam, interlocking instruments and gradually speeding up the tempo, bringing the kids to a shrieking, fist-pumping mess. By all accounts their set went down well, so it looked like I'd finally found sweet respite.

 

Queen Kwong offered up a set of thrashy tunes that were reminiscent of early Smashing Pumpkins, sonically, with the vocals of a mid-period Courtney Love... Y'know, the period where Kurt was still alive. Either way, it was a competent yet simply pedestrian set that made me feel absolutely nothing.

 

Brank Bjork and The Bros' demographic can essentially be split up into two groups: heshers and extremely tall people. Their midnight set at the Bovine Sex Club was sweet and groovy, yet the stage was oh-so-very hard to see from anywhere beyond the first row as the legions of black-t-shirt-wearing giants stood around with their mammoth fists clenched under their armpits, arms crossed, ready to be impressed. And impress Bjork did... I wonder what would happen if he decided to clean up and change the name of the band to Brank Bjork and the Persons Of Immediate Interest or the likes. Would the heshers still be okay with that? And yes, there was some Kyuss involved.

 

Also, since when did the kid from Two And A Half Men play guitar in the band? Motherfucker's got a doppleganger who can seriously bang out the sweet, smokin' solos.

 

I quickly exited the club as Bjork and his brethren finished up their set and made my way north towards the Dakota Tavern to see the simply sweet Young Nurses In Love. The TO quintet, who are vocally represented by two women, quickly won me over with their smart pop sensibilities as well as can-do attitude. Their half-hour set was heavy on catchy 'oh/ah' patterns and quirky start-stop rhythms, bringing many in the venue to dance... Well, dance as well as awkward white people can, at least. Culling songs from a recently-released EP as well as playing a brand-new track they hope to put as the opening number on a forthcoming album, the band made quite an impression to those who attended.

 

Rock Plaza Central's surprise stint at the Dakota Tavern at two was a nice treat, though by then I definitely felt the burn of standing for over 8 hours. I stuck around for a bit of their ocean-ccentric tunes, at times haunting yet starkly beautiful. The fact that singer Chris Eaton was sick and thus unable to make the show made for an interesting conundrum: the band pulled up a number of friends and well-wishers onto the stage to sing at various points in the evening, lyric sheets lining the tavern's stage floor. Seeing artists read directly from lyric sheets has become a growing commonplace occurence at my time here in Toronto, as last night's Buck 65 and Walter Schreiffels shows proved. I hope this is not a growing trend in music, or else that might be a sloppy, sloppy problem. Still, the beautiful, stark imagery conjured up by the Toronto collective made for a nice cap to an uneven though in retrospect pleasing evening.

 

 

PS. There was no secret Jerry Only/Misfits show tonight. I sighed. At least I didn't have to sit through that dude from the Raveonettes DJing, amirite.

PPS. There are now balconies on the MMVAs laser-show set. I think I may have to break in and take pictures tomorrow night.