By Erin Stewart - Rock the Plank - 05/15/2006
It was a rainy Wednesday evening outside, as the Spectrum filled with a crowd buzzed with the anticipation of Scotland’s post-rock kings, Mogwai (named after the cute, furry, yet potentially sinister gremlin-producing/becoming creatures from the film Gremlins). Despite being a full show located at one of Montreal’s largest venues -- well in my world anyway -- I knew nary a soul in the largely francophone crowd. I was previously unaware of the franco-devotion to this sextet of aging Glaswegians, but my Montrealais ex-boyfriend informed me after that his ilk loooove Mogwai. So after nudging my way through the French chatter into the sweet spot (middle back, between the speakers) the house lights dimmed and the fancy, ray-of-colour-beam-shooting disco lights commenced along with a droning wall of noise.
Mogwai ambled onto stage, wearing matching green track jackets; however, this was not your garden variety boy band. Instead of breaking into choreographed dance moves, these six thirtysomething, pasty white Scottish men launched into a serene, vocoder-employing, super-loud sonic ballad to an excited crowd. The sheer bulk of sound waves emitting from Spectrum’s massive speakers was palpable; the bell-clear drum beats resounded to the very core of my mildly vibrating sternum. I stood transfixed for a while, literally feeling the music and the emotion of the performance. Not that the lads themselves were particularly “show-stoppers”; they mostly stood in place and went through the motions, one by one shedding their athletic exteriors. It was the music -- a lot of it unfamiliar to me as I stopped paying much attention after Rock Action despite Young Team being one of my favourite albums of the 90's -- that was positively entrancing.
I’d also never really considered Mogwai stoner music until I smelt the Mary Jane being blazed by les hommes beside me (and subsequently recalled one time this dude Chris, who used to hang around my warehouse abode last year, sat in the middle of the room stoned out of his pants facing the speakers blasting Mogwai at 3am) and thought yeah, that makes sense. Having gone through a mellower period in the middle of their eleven-year career, the most recent album Mr. Beast returned to the louder, more cacophonic sound of early Mogwai, and they were certainly producing quite the sonic wall that evening.
Check out Mr. Beast released this past March on Matador Records, and I recommend Young Team -- which I’ve owned for nearly a decade, don’t I feel old -- featuring a vocal appearance from fellow Scot and super nice guy Aidan Moffat of Arab Strap.
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