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As the old adage goes, in order to survive, one must adapt and change with the times. Papa Roach, the chameleons of nu-metal, have, through the generous application of leather layers and guyliner, managed to transform themselves from a band that wore simple black work shirts and that concerned themselves with Important Issues (note the capitals, folks) like child abuse, suicide and economic discord, into the sort of band that appeals to the Mötley Crüe/Godsmack crowd. Their brand of lyrically sex-tinged, power-chord bashing rock can still apparently muster enough interest to draw an audience, considering that they managed to sell out Metropolis (which seats just shy of 2,000 people) on a quiet Wednesday night in the city.

The night started off in a rather forgetful manner: openers Bleeker Ridge (who recently put out theirdebut on Roadrunner Records) and My Darkest Days (signed to Nickelback mainman Chad Kroeger's 604 Records) showed that Canadian rock isn't dead, but instead it’s merely limping around and trying to prove to the world that we can be a true contender, all while softly suckling from the teat that the aforementioned Nickleback provides. Inoffensive, good ol' boy rock centered around small town boredom (Bleeker Ridge's "Small Town Dead") and objectifying women (My Darkest Days' "Porn Star Dancing") shows that pandering to the lowest common denominator can pay off... And by paying off, I mean "can attract young fat dudes in black band t-shirts, mouthing the words to your one minor radio hit", which in My Darkest Days' case, means featuring Kroeger and Black Label Society's Zakk Wylde, as well as... rapper Ludacris? Yeah, I don't get it either, but I digress.

Don't get me wrong - both bands seem like nice enough young fellows, but their brands of radio-friendly rock lacked any sort of punch or even a hint of originality, and instead relied on several rock stand-bys (the slow ballad about love, the in-between song banter, some chanting, a by-the-numbers guitar solo) to get by. There was little room for showmanship and no hints of potential for future artistic growth. Though these bands may see some sort of moderate fame and play the radiofest circuit this summer, I'm not entirely sure how the bands plan on parlaying this into some sort of long-lasting career. In a field littered with second-tier acts that have overstayed their welcome, I fear that these lads and their even more generic sound will peter out rather soon.

When your two biggest hits center on drugs and misogyny, you've pretty much defined your band's aesthetic very clearly. Buckcherry's twin dragons/monster jams (coke anthem "Lit Up" and feminist-baiting "Crazy Bitch") were definite set list lock-ins, making their appearance in the second half of their 50-minute set. Buckcherry singer Josh Todd, shirtless and still heroin chic skinny, introduced "Lit Up" with the sage words "I still remember the first time I did some coke, wow!" Scholars, this band ain't. But that's okay – the band, much like Papa Roach, have identified their target audience and tailored their message in such a manner that it's going to be a definite hit: singing about love lost, booze consumed and drugs inhaled will always find you an audience. And the audience ate it up, singing along to most of the set. Though these songs were designed to win the red-blooded hearts of the American Midwest, even up here in chilly Montreal they still manage to find a home and an army willing to support the cause of rock.

Ensconced deep within the belly of the (white trash) beast, I conversed with an employee of the venue, who disclosed to me that some 500 tickets had been bought the day of, much to the bewilderment of the venue staff. I stared out onto the floor just before the headliner took the stage; dudes who could pass themselves off as second-hand bikers, girls with shitty tattoos on their arms sipping on over-priced beer and wondrous teenagers who no doubt had not yet taken in all of the flavours of life that the bands on-stage had sung about, but who were excited at the prospect of such experiences, intermingled. French, English, and drunken gibberish were all being spoken at once. These were blue-collar workers, mostly, who came to blow off some steam. They were definitely not looking to be preached at or reproached about their lifestyle choices, they just wanted to rock. And so far, the three bands had delivered. The headliners, thankfully, would carry that tradition on admirably.

Opening with "Kick In The Teeth" from Time For Annihilation, Jacoby Shaddix and company cut deftly through over a dozen tracks that covered most of their discography, though their material favoured their two last records (Time For Annihilation and Metamorphosis) and 2000's Infest. The stage banter was obscenity-filled and light, as the foursome ran through a number of their singles ("Scars", "Lifeline", "Getting Away With Murder", "Forever"), saving their biggest hit (Infest's "Last Resort") for last. The band performed admirably, managing to get the eager audience to join in at the appropriate moments. As someone who once listened to this band a lot during those confusing teenage years, I found myself remembering the words to songs I hadn't heard in more than half a decade.

Since first seeing them open for Eminem and Limp Bizkit over a decade ago, I've not really followed the band's progress closely. Their transformation seems like an organic one, not one imposed by a record label ('sup, My Chemical Romance?), but rather by a desire to be a band they can be, free from more immediate trends they could be associated with (such as their appearance on an international stage while nu-metal was in full swing). Papa Roach put on exactly the type of show you'd expect from a band of their stature, a show free of surprises and elaborate stage productions, focusing on pared-down riffing, anthemic choruses and a little bit of showmanship, keeping the crowd enthused for more than an hour. The sold-out audience seemed to leave happy, content in knowing that there will always be a place where reliable rock will live, always ready to be listened and related to, as well as appreciated.

-Brian H hosts Countdown To Armageddon every Monday from 8-10pm