PASCALE PICARD BAND + Two Hours Traffic @ Club Soda

By Comma Chameleon - Semicolon Cancer; - 12/07/2007

I went into Club Soda with, admittedly, slightly raised expectations. OK granted, there are few seats at the Club; if you want to go upstairs to the mezzanine and claim a seat that's a treat, but you have to snag it fast. The two consecutive nights that Two Hours Traffic opened for the Pascale Picard Band were complete and utter sell-outs. I was somehow tricked into thinking that it was reversed: Pascale Picard opening for THT! Who did this!? I had seen THT play before... and as I came in late (no excuse), I caught the second half of their set, chocked with perfectly scream-worthy (self-proclaimed) "power pop" melodies that people seemed to catch like The Cure, and sort of had taken it upon themselves to bop around liberally within their confined space.

Where did these young guns pop up from? They're good ol' boys -- the last thing I'd seen of theirs was their music vid for “Jezebel.” I had heard nothing directly off of their latest studio album, Little Jabs (are they pulling a few punches?), but regardless, lordy, colour me impressed. Appreciate the well-adjusted sound? I applaud the venue. Kudos and three thumbs up to the sound tech at C-Soda for bringing out the rhythm section and high fives to THT guys for pumping up and filling out their eager chant and stomp breakdowns, and a free whistle on a gold keychain for bringing front guy Liam Corcoran's melodic, but not overwrought huff-and-puff delivery to the fore. Thanks guys -- nice set.

Here came the mind-boggler: a good 20 minutes later, Ms. Picard hopped up onstage and the crowd went temporarily primal. This is batshit insane. These people are bloody Thai stir-fry crazy -- this woman just popped up, and people screamed, like someone hit the panic alarm button. I have to give props and accessories to Pascale Picard's band, they're quite talented and I think the show was a fine testament of that. I had a few winces when Picard opened the set screaming like the devil, and then throughout the rest of the night like a girl who found out her band had taken a shit on her pumpkin pie after eating everything else on the spice rack. People seemed to like this woman; the middle-aged Joe and his woman next to me were having a great time.

I saw Picard as an Ani DiFranco type, without the element of strong song writing or charmingly quirky vocal capabilities. I wanted to see into the depths of her lyrical jabs that the crowd was applauding but I couldn't make out a word she was saying. I was unable to shake the feeling that I was unwillingly undergoing an aural hysterectomy. Borrowing a line or two from The Big Lebowski, I feel like a small child who walked into the theatre in the middle of a movie. There has to have been something I missed here.

Tune in to Semicolon Cancer; with Comma Chameleon every Sunday from 9am - 10:30am