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By Christie Van der Burg - Black Tongue Radio - 01/17/2006

With nothing else but herself, Feist walked out on stage, no guitar, no back-up band. The chattering audience packed into the Metropolis, stopped and from then on could not help but to focus all attention on her. The crowd was captivated within the first few seconds, hooked through their dropped jaws and reeled in. An overwhelming amount of ambiance is portrayed with each note exiting her mouth. The calm mood of the show is similar to what is felt sitting around a campfire or a table at a dark, candlelight and smoky bar. Feist does not confine within one genre of music but incorporates various influences from funk, pop, jazz, punk and rock, fusing them together to produce utter essence. Her band joined her on and off throughout the show in a complementary fashion. Like the wand of a fairy godmother, they were a tool in which this singer could further provide her magic and done in good style. As with most Arts & Crafts bands, fellow friends came out to join the main act on stage: Paso Mino, the opening band who can normally be heard playing for Jason Colette, as well as some members of the Stills, specifically Liam O'Neil (the gentleman playing saxophone who can also be heard at Barfly every Thursday for Jazz Night). In doing this, the musicians clearly demonstrate how much they each sincerely enjoy playing music and entertaining a crowd. It would be difficult to find one who did not enjoy the Feist show; if and if one was to be discovered, I would say they have no comprehension of beauty, for she clearly demonstrates that beauty is not always a concrete object or image, but something which can be heard and felt through music.

[Tune in to Black Tongue Radio every Wednesday 9pm - 10pm]

By Hallie Seline - 11/29/2005

Going to see My Chemical Romance at the Stade was like being in a packed stadium filled with double personalities. When these people are hanging out before and after the shows, they are mostly entirely normal human beings, clad in dark, anti-this and -that clothing, and moody makeup. However, as soon as the music starts, the floor becomes a battlefield and it’s every man for himself. Of course, if you can’t handle the mosh pit, then stay out of it. However, it is apparent that one’s primitive need to be in the front has begun to get a little out of hand when someone is bashing into little girls’ ribs with his elbows just to get him and his girlfriend up to the front of the stage — especially when the said person is twice the size of those around him. Normally I salute the rules of the mosh pit; push, shove and go crazy, but if one man’s down, help him up. I’ve been noticing this type of lack of respect growing in many concert scenes lately, and the arrogance is tending to get worse. Bottom line, if you are fortunate enough to have missed the vertically-challenged gene, and you can see perfectly fine, please do not go punching out a five-foot-nothing female to be closer.

Aside from getting caught up in the politics of the mosh pit, for the most part, the show was hard-hitting, aggressive and wore its black little heart on its sleeve. At the beginning I, along with others I had talked to, were quite disappointed with the first band, Circa Survive. There was nothing enthralling or even remotely interesting to their bland screaming/singing vocals, and overdone riffs and drumbeats. Thrice, however, definitely picked it up from where Circa Survive had dropped the ball. Being the crowd-pleasers that they are, they incorporated the old and the new and amped up their listeners, preparing them for the band of the night, My Chemical Romance.

After a painfully long wait, the familiar poignant vocals and brooding instrumentals pierced through the pre-show chatter, and a wave of excitement consumed the crowd as the curtains dropped, revealing the faces of the music: Gerard Way, Ray Toto, Frank Iero, Matt Pelissier and Mikey Way. From that moment on, the show reached a high note and remarkably stayed there. I had seen My Chemical Romance once before and had enjoyed them, but hadn’t held much of a memory of their show. However on this night, they seemed to grab the heart of the crowd as we passionately joined in with the cynical, humorous and emotional lyrics. Way’s powerful vocals and charismatic stage presence pleased the crowd and the rest of the band was just as strong with their hard-hitting blend of guitar, bass and drums. Most, if not all, songs from their second album Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge were featured, quite a few from their first album and a brand new song dedicated to a girl in the audience, which felt fresh but with the same great MCR vibe. Aside from a few technical glitches with the sound system, the entire show went very well, ending in an encore performance and a blast of red and silver confetti — as all concerts should end.

[Hallie Seline is a first-time freelance writer for CJLO.com; Emo is her big bad boyfriend. Also, this review does not in any way reflect the opinions of CJLO as we love the sound of elbows crashing into little girls' ribs.]

By Antonella Fratino - The Siamese Libertines - 12/02/2005

Certain moments push beyond being mere coincidences. How I found myself flipping through a Nan Goldin retrospective while listening to The Dandy Warhols’ latest album, Odditorium or Warlords of Mars, was one of those moments -- defying machination but respecting some sort of ontological unity. Somewhere between Goldin’s gritty portraits and the evocative “Holding Me Up,” it just clicked -- and I realized why I’m such a fan of the Warhols. Like the cited photographer, the group has been criticized for being contrived, glossy and unoriginal. However, unlike other musicians, the Portland quartet unabashedly alludes to its influences while toying with the boho art world it is part of. And, as both sets of artists prove, certain tropes never get old. In mining matters of sex, drugs and rock 'n roll, Goldin and The Dandy Warhols capture an essence, a scene, a certain place and time. You want to be there. You want to join the party. Yeah.

I was there -- in that space of nostalgia and utter cool -- the night of their recent Montreal show at the Spectrum. My last live memory of the Warhols consists of a topless Zia McCabe bouncing about to “Song 2” when they toured with Blur back in 1997. This time around, it was about the boys showing skin as both frontman Courtney Taylor-Taylor and drummer Brent deBoer graced an ecstatic crowd with their shirtless presence. Already commanding the stage visually, the Warhols rocked, and rocked loudly. Engaging the audience with favourites “Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth” (which was performed with surprising enthusiasm), “Bohemian Like You”, “Boys Better”, and “We Used To Be Friends”, the band also incorporated the longer, more atmospheric tracks from Odditorium without losing drive.

Working two mikes seamlessly, Taylor-Taylor embodied the playful sexual energy from songs like “I Love You” and “Minnesoter”, as did the rest of the band members. What became evident as the show progressed was just how much the band actually felt their songs -- and respected the art of music. The Warhols weren’t just performing for the crowd but creating music with us, and their sincere involvement made the night all that more enjoyable. So much so that almost two hours into their set, I didn’t realize it was already time to go. This is when Taylor-Taylor did something I’ve always wanted to see happen in a concert but have never witnessed before. After thanking us for being so great (which we were), he presented the last three songs the band was going to play and stated that there would be no encore, as he felt the whole process was ridiculous. Sure enough, after playing the last song -- a great cover of “Little Drummer Boy” claimed to be performed only between Thanksgiving and Christmas -- the group headed off the stage. Knowing when to leave a good party, The Dandy Warhols did just that.

[The Siamese Libertines rule, OK? Thursdays 4pm-6pm]

By Cara Ventura - Classified - 10/11/2005

There is something to be said for having the uncanny ability to tell a story with a song...

...and here comes the Weezer comparison (“in the second sentence?”, you may ask. Yes). Pinkerton was a painstakingly written album. The ups and downs of love and life -- dare I say high/lows -- were documented with an ingenuity and heart-on-sleeve mentality that was at once explorative and concise. The balance is devastating. As a side note, the album is so personal -- and the poor initial reception was taken so personally -- that Rivers Cuomo and company never perform tracks off of said album live.

Here we go, then. New York-based Nada Surf pre-existed Weezer as a band: Weezer formed in 1993 shortly after frontman Cuomo left Baltimore for college on the West Coast, whereas Nada Surf members have been together since 1988. They released their first indie single in 1993, and shortly thereafter Nada Surf was signed to Elektra where they finally released their first LP High/Low in 1996, nine months after Pinkerton dropped. Pinkerton took nine months to record; High/Low was recorded during the third month of Pinkerton’s recording. Both albums were produced by Ric Ocasek.

The track “Popular” was a hit, but never brought Nada Surf to the forefront of the geek rock scene as “Buddy Holly” did for Weezer. It is possible that the somewhat mean-spirited tongue-in-cheek attack on the cool high school kids didn’t sit well with the alternative rock audience of 1996, although the more probable reason is that "Buddy Holly" was catchier (and had a freakin' cool Spike Jonze-directed video that got insane rotation on MTV). Nada Surf thus had to deal with being overshadowed by the sensitive rock that the Weezer phenomenon brought to the Top 40 lists of the mid-90's. As their career pushed forward, they became known for the unparalleled ability in the alternative pop scene to tell a coherent and witty story with each up-tempo song on each album.

All this paves the way for some discussion about the show at La Sala Rossa on a crisp October evening. Chris Walla (of Death Cab for Cutie guitarist fame) produced The Weight Is A Gift and that hit music store shelves on September 20th 2005. But first, a bit about The Weight Is A Gift. It is good… it is musically solid, and sounds quintessentially Nada Surf with their trademark perfectly in-key vocal harmonies and extremely competent musicianship. Herein lies the “but”.

The lyrics seem half-baked and the concepts behind the stories are not strikingly cogent. If I didn’t understand English, or if I was twelve years old, I’m pretty sure I’d like this album infinitely more. There doesn’t seem to be any huge step in a direction away from the niche that they have found tried and true -- and to be fair, they have been an obvious musical influence on acts that sprung up around the turn of the millennium. "Blankest Year" and "All Is A Game" could have been easily placed on any of their albums, yet somehow they don’t sound terribly anachronistic.

The performance was, as expected, perfectly executed. The sound in the venue usually causes issues, but they were ignorable. Even the discrepancy between the production on the album and the somewhat unclear acoustics became a non-issue due to the chemistry between the band members, the audience and the music. There was a sense of nostalgia in the show. I did feel as if I was walking back into in that sort of limbo era, post-Pavement pre-Get Up Kids.

There is an earnestness in Matthew Caws’ performance. He has a really genuine heart-on-sleeve delivery with each note he sings and each chord he plays. Matthew is a good balance to Daniel Lorca’s bravado and very "on" stage style. The latter's persona-driven performance of Let Go’s "Là pour ça" was almost cringeworthy.

I enjoyed myself. The show earns three and a half happy faces out of five -- mostly for the overall solidness of the performance. Yet it really wasn’t anything to write home about.

[Classified is currently on hiatus. Keep an eye out for a return to the CJLO family soon.]