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By Omar Goodness - Hooked On Sonics - 04/23/2005

Let’s get this out of the way early. It’s common knowledge around these parts that I listen to all sorts of music. Heck, I even have an unhealthy addiction to easy listening, adult-contemporary (Lionel Richie, you genius, you). My CD collection includes both Dillinger Escape Plan and Norah Jones. And yes, I do like emo, screamo, post-hardcore, emo-core and whatever else you want to call it. Now, this doesn’t mean I go around writing poetry in a diary, constantly muse on how the world has continuously let me down, or spend copious amounts of time adjusting my bangs or dying my hair black. Uh, no. Every genre has its fair amount of bad bands, but lately it’s been understandable why people have this negative stigma attached to the weepy punk genre. There’s just so many horrible bands now, and the Thursday clones out there rival the Helmet clones of the nu-metal era. Translation: let’s see how far we can water this music down and still sucker the kids into loving it. Yeah, it’s gone pretty far. That being said, I can honestly say when we received the latest Underoath CD They’re Only Chasing Safety at château CJLO, I had understandably low expectations.

Already touted by The Kids© as being “amazing” and the latest “band to watch”, I had some reservations about Underoath. These were the same Kids putting lame-o bands like Story Of The Year and The Used on pedastals. These were the same Kids buying Senses Fail and Early November CDs. Good God, people, these were the same Kids who made Chris Carraba a platinum-selling artist. I lost my faith in The Kids© a long time ago, but Underoath pleasantly surprised me, so much to the point that I ranked their sophomore album They’re Only Chasing Safety as the 9th Best Punk-Hardcore CD of 2004 in my Year End Column. They’re not ground-breaking or genre-defining. They’re not doing anything original or anything that hasn’t been done before. The thing is, Underoath do what they do well, and have the hooks and panache to satisfy. Looks like The Kids© were right. All hope is not lost.

Getting a little late to the venue, I was expecting to have missed Fear Before the March of Flames, which sucks because I’ve heard they are amazing, but I couldn’t do anything about it. What I was really making an effort for, was to get there in time to catch some of These Arms Are Snakes who were the added bonus to the bill, and the sweetener that enticed me to go out to this show. Alas, the only These Arms Are Snakes songs I heard that night were the ones coming out of my car’s speakers. It took me 45 minutes to find parking . Obviously, it was a Saturday night in Montreal, yet somehow I did not factor this into my time calculations. Good job, brah. Strike one. Sooooo, I ended up missing These Arms Are Snakes, chalk it down as the umpteenth time I’ve somehow managed to miss them at shows. Strike two.

I arrive and make my way to the men’s room to see a slew of guys at the sinks in front of the mirror applying “product” and/or slathering water into their hair, making certain their shaggy do’s were messed up just right. Seriously, there were at least eight guys there “coiffing”; truly a sight to be seen. The fact that my hair is somewhat long and has the tendancy to hang in my face sometimes led to one conclusion: I need a haircut. And fast. Strike three (note: hair has since been cut). Grooming aside, how was the show?

The Chariot, featuring ex-Norma Jean vocalist Joshua Scagin, took the stage to the crowd’s delight, and I gotta say I was pretty shocked that so many people were into them for such a relatively new band. I’m not really a fan of their brand of metalcore, but they were quite the energetic bunch of performers. Bouncing all over the stage, the quartet was never at a loss for energy, Scagin almost performed one song entirely on his head. Guitarist Keller Harbin was spazzing out so much that his guitar was flying all over the place, I was waiting for the strap to give way and for it to go hurling into the crowd or at one of his band members. No dice, looks like dude uses some heavy duty duct tape.

Alas, it was The Kids© who stole the show here. Parting like the red sea and allowing ample room on the floor for various crowd members to take turns and go in the center and, uh, punch and kick the air. CJLO Station Manager Metal Dave has assured me that he’s been at hardcore shows where some dudes manage to do the solo-punching thing and somehow manage to look “cool.” Hard to believe, considering that looking like an “idiot” and looking “cool” are usually mutually exclusive. Needless to say, they were quite the source of enjoyment for me, and some old dude who kept on taking pictures of the fracas from the balcony. Well played, fashioncore kids, well played.

Ending their set off with a shout-out to their man Jesus Christ and the Big Man Upstairs, the resulting deafening silence was quickly broken with another frenetic hardcore tune before they packed it in. The odd thing, during their entire set there was a group of five guys standing behind them. Just standing there…hangin’. Anyhow, The Chariot? A-OK, but not really my cup o’ tea..

Letting the stage fill with smoke, and with a backdrop of the cover art of their They’re Only Chasing Safety adorning the stage, Underoath finally took the stage. Lights started flashing around, mini spotlights swooped around the room, the smoke continued to rise, the band kicked in, and the place exploded. The kids were going ballistic for the band’s melodic emo-ish metalcore, so much so that I saw at least three kids leap off the balcony into the pit…yowza.

The band was giving The Chariot a run for their money in the energy department. Singer Spencer Chamberlain was bouncing all over the place, vocalist/drummer Aaron Gillespie kept perfect time while singing and thrashing his head and arms all around, but the MVP here was keyboardist Chris Dudley, quite possibly the most energetic keyboardist ever. He almost becomes the focal point during Underoath’s performance. At one point, someone from backstage ran on and hopped on his back and Dudley kept on hopping about and working the keys at the same time.

The segue from the short “Blue Note” into “It’s Dangerous Business Walking Out Your Front Door” was seamless and was the mid-set highlight, with Dudley managing sequencers and keys to create the electronic atmospherics of the songs. Geez, they didn’t even need a recording of the choir part in the bridge of “It’s Dangerous Business…”, the crowd was singing it. The new song played seemed to fit well also, gearing more towards an atmospheric, yet more technical Refused-like hardcore.

If things were already going well by that point, they really took off when the band launched into the popcore of their single “Reinventing Your Exit”. I’ve only seen a handful of shows where a band has connected so much with an audience, to such an extent where everyone in the club feels including in the performance, no matter how far away from the stage they are. Underoath reached that level that night, but here’s the kicker: if “Reinventing the Exit” got the kids up, the last song of the set -- coincidentally the best song off of They’re Only Chasing Safety -- “A Boy Brushed Red Living in Black and White” brought the house down. I’m dead serious when I say I had a huge grin on my face watching the entire Club Soda erupt. This was mindblowingly good, and the whole time afterwards I just kept on thinking, man, of all bands to accomplish that, Underoath. They’re continuously surprising me.

That brings me back to The Kids©. Say what you will, and I can criticize them all I want regarding their fashion sense or musical taste like I did above, it’s shows like these that are the most enjoyable to me. Forget the dusty hipsters who’ll love you today, but ditch you when Spin, Rolling Stone, or some MP3 blog christens someone else as the “new saviour of music”, it’s the kids who’ll be faithful. It’s the kids who’ll count the days until your show. It’s the kids who are totally passionate about your band. They’re not at the show because of some hype or buzz, they’re there because they are willing to put their entire being into the notes and music coming from their favourite band. They hang on every word. And I can honestly say, there’s nothing more exciting than seeing a large group of people complelety go berserk over three minutes or so of music and singing.

And the show? The whole shebang was done at 11pm. God bless these punk shows.

[Tune in to HOOKED ON SONiCS every Tuesday from 6pm to 8pm]

By Paul Brown - The Go-Go Radio Magic Show - 07/18/2005

The great thing about not knowing the opening band is the ability to find a new love. This is exactly what happened last Monday night. The Woggles were a band whose name may be more familiar than their music. In fact, there were many conversations in line with people trying to find out info on the opening act. The only wisdom that could be shared was “uh, they’re from Georgia”.

The Woggles took to the stage with the Professor (lead singer), Dan Elektro (drummer) and the Flesh Hammer (guitar) all sporting fantastic fuscia tuxedo shirts, complete with ruffles. Lady Fingers (bass) complemented them in her ultra-cool go-go dress and boots combo. Clearly, the crowd was in for something special. With a quick intro and a joke, the Professor jumped into the air and the band was off, cranking out their own brand of 60's garage rock/boogaloo, one that has won them fans including Jack White and Little Steven Van Zandt. Think the Sonics' mix of garage rock and screamin’ soul, but hailing from the same fertile waters that gave birth to Little Richard, James Brown and Ray Charles.

Burning through the first song, it seemed like human forms of Jim Henson’s genius muppets were performing for the rather stunned crowd, who weren’t sure what to expect, but definitely up for the ride. During the second song, "Get Tough", the Professor leapt off the stage, taking the show to the floor. Singing and dancing among the audience, he raised their status from “opening act” to “tough act to follow”. Shortly into the set, the bass fell apart, literally. A screw had fallen out and the show was halted, forcing Dan Elektro to point out that this was “a worst-case scenario”. After a fruitless search, Lady Fingers decided it was better to go on with only three strings than no bass at all. Once again, the Professor was back in the audience, pulling out all his best James Brown moves during the R&B-charged "Push". Before long, the band whipped the crowd back into a frenzied, dancing mass.

The Professor had just gotten back on stage when he sent Lady Fingers out to “take her bass for a walk”. The singer and the Flesh Hammer soon joined her, turning the dance floor into a sort of Dr. Tongue’s 3D House of Go-Go. Advancing and retreating through the masses, it was like the most rocking version of theatre that one could hope for. Rock 'n roll sometimes needs a little show biz mixed in and the Woggles combined the two perfectly. In a just world, they would have been household names a long time ago, but somehow have managed to fly under the radar for quite some time. No doubt, for those who didn’t know the Woggles prior to the show, they’re likely to remember them the next time they’re talking about best live performers.

The energy was high by the time Holly Golightly and her band took the stage, but how would they follow such an amazing opening act ? The answer came slowly and acoustically, shifting gears from a high-ball to a cup of tea with lemon. With the room in her hands, Holly announced that they hadn’t done a sound check or prepared a set list for the show, which only became a problem when they were five songs into the show. A recurring theme and sound in all the songs chosen made it feel a bit repetitive. It seemed that their desire to not play the same set every night -- to keep the show fresh for themselves -- came at the expense of the crowd. No doubt about it, Holly Golightly is a very talented songwriter with an incredible voice and an amazing band backing her up. There were even moments when one could compare some of her anti-love and breakup songs to Tom Waits, but there were just too many of them and not enough Waits-isms between the songs. The impression caused by this attempt at improvising would have been a disappointing end to what had started as an excellent night of live music. And then Holly came out for two encores, which turned the whole thing around.

Returning to the stage accompanied by only a single guitar, she did a sassy take on Hattie Hart’s blues classic "I Let My Daddy Do That" and then was joined by the full band for an intense performance of "I Had A Dream". Both these songs proved that Holly Golightly is deserving of all the acclaim she has received. One can only hope that the next time she passes through Montreal, her show will be as focused and charged as her finale.

[Tune in to The Go-Go Radio Magic Show Fridays midnight - 2am]

By Stephanie D - Idle Minds - 07/07/2005

Warning: this is a review written by an Idle Mind

It was a warm summer night in Quebexico, and I didn't know what to expect.

After hearing a bitter man named Ridley Bent whine about his psycho ex-girlfriend while playing an acoustic guitar, I stood with my co-host Matty Matt wondering what exactly Buck 65's brand of Hick Hop was going to sound like live. I had listened to an older album, Talkin' Honky Blues, a few times in the past and what came to mind back then were the stylistic similarities to Tom Waits -- particularly Richard Terfry's raspy vocals, strange music, and of course the storytelling. However, what the live show offered was a unique bent on this time-honored tradition. Buck 65 is what happens when you mix Tom Waits, Grandmaster Flash, Stereo Total and the Parisian-style old-school rap. Whether these influences are intentional, Terfry blends these genres to make music that is uniquely his own.

Clearly, Buck 65 knows the value of performing songs, not just playing them behind a backdrop of intense lighting and banners with logos, all meant only to distract, which other musicians have fallen victim to, oh so many times before. Terfry's show, by contrast, was the hip hop version of "Our Town". The stage was sparse and simple and he did not require a band. It was just him, his deep phlegmatic voice, turntables ready to be scratched, pre-recorded tracks of his original music on a mini-disc player, and other samples of songs such as "Venus in Furs" by the Velvet Underground. Finally he shared with us the basic anatomy required for all hell to break loose: a punk-ass rapper, a flaming skeleton on a motorcycle, an innocent connector, and "an idea so crazy it might even work!"

Spaces between songs became elements of the performance too, giving Buck 65 the chance to entertain the audience with banter and anecdotes about his groupies and what he thinks goes on during development meetings at Yamaha. How did they go from making pianos to motorcycles anyway? His answer: an idiot with a crazy idea who sits at the back of the board room.

Buck 65 performed at the Main Hall two nights back-to-back. A packed audience the second night got to witness what Buck 65 said was his first "error-free" performance. It was indeed perfectly timed and executed, and aided only by a tiny notebook that he consulted on occasion. We were treated to the debut performance of a song done entirely in French with his wife, Claire. Buck 65 also performed a new song composed that day that was inspired, according to him, by the previous night's show.

Terfrey expressed his preference for playing smaller venues but, in perfect Idle Minds fashion, also mentioned his weariness to pass gas in such an intimate setting. Whether he gave into these primal urges, I do not know as I was standing in the back by the merch table. And did I mention how much I loved the Buck 65 T-shirts? They were designed with an outline of an antelope branded with the numbers 6-5 across the body. Damn, if only I had 20 bucks (pardon the pun). But I digress. I left the show T-shirtless, but very happy and thoroughly impressed.

[Tune in to Idle Minds Sundays 4pm - 6pm]

By Jordan-na Belle-Isle - Canadian Invasion - 06/29/2005

On a humid Montreal Wednesday evening, a packed Metropolis housed three of those newfangled emo/screamo quasi-punk bands that are all the rage with the young ‘uns these days. It was a threesome of angst-ridden music with only one winner who emerged sweaty and victorious from the weeping anthems, pained shouts and quick guitars.

First up was Kill Radio from Los Angeles and who could easily be placed in the pop-punk category, with their blond golden boy lead singer elliciting schoolgirl screams from the females. Kill Radio’s repertoire consisted mostly of catchy, slightly angry, punk. The kids dug it, pumping their fists to the rhythm, throwing their bodies in the air. Yes, there was a mosh pit but aside from that, Kill Radio’s set was pretty safe, bordering on radio-friendly. The only thing preventing these guys from being Clear Channel’s bitches was their staunch anti-Bush/America sucks stance. “We’re from America but don’t worry; we’re the good ones”. Their merch featured T-shirts that mocked Bush. More power to them yet their opposition seems to be their only raison d’être, just another band that cropped up with the anti-Bush movement, hopping along for the ride. Politics in music is a good method of getting your message to the younger generations but it occasionally begs the question: are you just trying to cash in on a political movement that easily profits financially from its popularity? It seemed to be the case with Kill Radio who seemed a bit too safe and flat with their political “message.”

All in all, Kill Radio’s set was pretty neutral; I didn’t love or hate it. I won’t rush out to buy the album nor will I clamp my hands over my ears when their songs pop up on some punk kid’s myspace. They were an ideal first opening act, enjoyable but not even close to stealing the show. It made it easy for Story Of The Year to make their grand entrance. This will henceforth be known as the “spaceship has landed” entrance: blinking lights in the darkness and weird atmospheric noises that suddenly explode as the band hops on stage and rips into one of their quicker songs. At first, Story Of The Year gave off infectuous energy with their jumps, spins and screams. They sang about being oppressed and standing alone, the omni-present sensitive themes set to loud punk guitars and screaming lyrics. This band is fully aware of their role as entertainers for the young minds. It was all about audience participation, one gimmick being that whenever the lead singer would say “Montreal”, the crowd had to scream the drummer’s name. They maintained a safe balance of acting like cocky rock stars (“Who wants to lay out drummer? He has a really huge cock.”) to feeling the plight of the common teen. Hey, we might be on stage, but we suffer just like you. It seemed a bit too well-orchestrated and the lack of spontaneity and sincerity left me a bit cold. Yet despite my personal criticism, Story Of The Year seems to understand the anger and thoughts of their target audience very well and manage to package it all very neatly in a way that reflects that anger but never in a deep or dangerous way. Teen angst has become a commodity and these guys know exactly how to cash in with their catchy singalong anthems.

Headliners Alexisonfire could teach Kill Radio and Story Of The Year the benefits of not trying too hard yet stepping up to the plate by being honest about what you do. They didn’t need the buildup entrance or to rile the crowd or to wax political. From lead singer George Logan’s first signature scream, the crowd was with them. Their energy was not derived from juvenile pranks like jumping off of speakers or from capitalizing on a common enemy; it came from their music and fed the crowd into an hour-long set that ended all too quickly. Logan sounds a lot less like Scooby-Doo live, his deep-throated screams meshing beautifully with Dallas Green’s soaring vocals, backed by tight guitars and drums, surprisingly easy and pleasant to listen to while still knocking a punch or two and kicking your ass. Their music is creative and avoids the stereotypical singalong choruses which are standard for empty, insta-hits; it’s not so much about the glaringly obvious, spoon-fed themes. It’s music that makes you think and listen in a different way while giving you room to feel and experience through your ears and body. Just like Kill Radio and Story Of The Year, Alexisonfire are angry but they project this emotion in a way that is believably raw and unpolished so you can see the beauty and the filth. Alexisonfire does not make their music safe or easily marketable; it’s an acquired taste. If you like it, it’s because it reaches you on a specific level, not because all the kids are singing it. Their success lies in the fact that they have managed to take their music to a mainstream audience that obsessively buys merch and goes to show in copy-cat herds by simply doing what they do without the gimmicks and hype.

[Tune in to Canadian Invasion every Friday 4pm – 6pm]