LAMBCHOP @ Le National

By Alex Huynh - Losing My Edge - 09/23/2006

Music is not always about rock stars. It is easy to forget, attending many shows where your senses are directed towards the stage and ultimately, short of already having the band's music wired in your head, what you see factors in just as much as what you hear and feel. Start the show off right in front of the band, immersing yourself in a bubble and then mid-way, go to the back with all the cocktail chatters and your detached position lends a different perspective to the proceedings.

I admit fearing the worst going into Lambchop's first-ever Montreal gig, because their music is the perfect companion for that last drink of the night alone, long after you've played that Tom Waits record. This being the new Montreal with shows starting on time (*gasp*), we were a long way from that soul-searching moment at closing time. After the first few notes, these fears were gone. It was like watching the jazz band performing at a piano bar in the movies, except the main characters have already left the venue. This was soundtrack music that refuses to stay in the background.

Despite them being on this occasion a six-piece accompanied by Austin's Tosca String Quartet, the glue is still crooner Kurt Wagner and his distinctive vocals. Every word is like the first breath uttered after waking up, lingering yet deliberate. The lush orchestra hangs around him, the piano especially waltzing with the vocals like two aging ballroom dancers. The lights were dimmed for the most part, helping to create the sensation that your surroundings have melted away and there you stand alone in your headspace.

There is one aspect to Lambchop that is not to be forgotten: their willingness to be subtilely deranged. It seeps into their music very quietly, but there is something beyond haunting and off, like something coming out of an old-time radio in a David Lynch film. Bursts of noise would slip in unannounced but never unexpectedly because the band has been building up to it almost inconspicuously. Of course, all this sounds great, but it is up to the observer to decide whether to step inside that bubble in the first place. Perhaps some were getting jittery -- this was one show that made you shake your fist at the smoking ban -- but as far as providing an overwhelming soundtrack to your drunken head-sorting, I can't think of a better way to spend a lonely Saturday night.

[Tune in to Losing My Edge every Sunday 2pm-4pm and Tuesday 8pm-10pm.]