THE TREWS @ Cabaret Juste Pour Rire

By Georgia Wisdom-Kuhns - MoonRocks - 05/29/2008

For the past year, I have been trying to convince my fellow CJLO-ians to give The Trews a chance. "They're really good live!" I keep saying. But claiming that a band's studio albums don't do justice to their live sets is a lot like saying, "she's really pretty in person, she just doesn't photograph well," which is more often than not, a lie. So, despite my best efforts, I arrived at the Trews show at Le Cabaret this past weekend, alone.  But it turned out that my coworkers were not the only Montrealers that needed convincing on merits of this east coast outfit.  I arrived just as The Trews were coming on, and was shocked at the minuscule size of the crowd.  No more than 75 fans had showed up that night to see the band play. Even after the release of their most recent and most commercially successful album, No Time For Later, this city wasn't buying, and I think the band knew it. When they got out on stage, the four boys (and their mysterious new keyboard player) didn't seem like the easy going Canadian rockers I had seem so many times before. They seemed...drunk.

For the majority of band's contrived hour and a half long performance, lead singer, Colin MacDonald, and brother/ lead guitarist, John-Angus, wailed around on stage, stumbling into each other looking bloodshot and sweaty. In between songs, where there should have been banter, Colin only managed to slur various versions of "thaaaanksMontrealforhavingus." I think I even caught him saying, "It's great to be back in Ontario." And so often, where there should have been actual songs, John-Angus seemed only to manage masturbatory solos. What happened to the band that I had been defending to no avail for the past year?  Where were those riff rocking Nova Scotians I loved so dearly?

During the band's hit, "Tired of Waiting," John-Angus pressed his Les Paul-ladened crotch into the faces of the band's newest market, the slightly-too-old-to-be-slutty slut.  The screaming women stretched out their arms to get hold of MacDonald's piece while he perversely licked his lips at them and raised a pair of horns into the air. Seriously, was this a joke?

As the show went on, I feared that The Trews were taking a turn for the Nickelback -- something that happens all too often in the world of Canadian rock. First, you're winning radio talent search contests, next stop Jack.Fm and the Much Music Countdown. And then despite the fact that no one really knows who you are outside our borders, you're writing songs about the trials and tribulations of being a "rock star."  From what I was seeing on stage, it seemed like only a matter of time before one of the MacDonald boys would be making local papers for crashing a Lamborghini into a lamp post in some backwater borough. 

Okay deep breath... the show was not the total disaster that I'm making it out to be. My claim that The Trews albums do not do their musical talents justice still stands, and to the casual listener, their show probably did not suck. There were at least two excellent performances that night. The first being "Paranoid Freak" off their latest album which is full of loud power chords, harmonies and ballsy -- albeit cheeseball -- lyrics that were just meant to be played in front of an audience. The second standout was a cover of The Band's most famous track, “The Weight.”  Each Trew got involved and sang a different verse which was great so see, since I was beginning to think that silent bassist, Jack Syperek, in his skinny jeans and sparkly vest wasn't actually part of the band and had just taken a wrong turn on the way to the Pete Wentz and Ashlee Simpson wedding.   

After a hasty encore and an even hastier exit from the band, I left Le Cabaret feeling pretty let down, and hurt by the band that I often labeled as my favourite. I joined their street team, man! Granted, I never contributed, but I don't willingly agree to spam mail from just anyone. But in the end I could never stay mad. After milling over the show for a few days, calling the band sellouts on my show and vowing never to play them again, I just gave in and decided to chock their basement jam session quality performance up to the fact that Montreal is just not a Trews town. It’s nothing personal, but this city has its own musical direction, and it doesn't include the resurrection of classic rock. 

There's no doubt in my mind that this band will continue to rock throughout our home and native land, baring any returns to this fair isle, and that their real fans will follow them. Yes, their show at Le Cabaret was upsetting, but really, how can I stay angry?  I love The Trews, and as everyone knows, trew love is blind.

Tune in to MoonRocks with Georgia  every Wednesday  from 1pm – 3pm