Monday, March 13, 2006
Metric, Cat's Cradle, 3/12/2006
I was recently criticized by a particular loyal BB reader who opts not to use the "Comments" function, instead prickling me via email (about Mogwai / Growing): "too much time spent on opening act, not enough on the headliners." So, I'll warn you (him) up front: this review will suffer from exactly the same problem -- for reasons you will understand soon enough. As for his general assessment of my review-writing capabilities ("M'eh... you've written better."), he's pretty much spot-on. I never pretended to be a music writer to begin with. Not only do I possess an extremely limited music-related vocabulary, I just don't think my writing's snarky enough to acquire a loyal readership beyond the, uh let's see, three or four people who drop by here regularly. To you three or four: I suck. Deal with it. Now, read on.
You should know (if you do not already) that Emily Haines' Metric (and make no mistake, it's 100% her band) makes impeccably tight new-wave inspired pop-punk that, had it been around thirty years or so ago, would likely have been mentioned in the same breath as Blondie, Pat Benatar, and Joan Jett. As it is, now you can safely mention Metric in the same breath as, um, PJ Harvey, Morningwood, and, uh, maybe Courtney Love I guess.
Unfortunately, for all her efforts Emily Haines just doesn't have the rock star chops of the aforementioned acts. Onstage, she looks skinny (because she is) and a bit haggard. The only other time I saw her -- as a member of Broken Social Scene at Coachella -- I thought she looked even worse: skinny, haggard, and frightened as well. Onstage with Metric last night, though, she wasn't the least bit scared, projecting a ton of confidence once the music started. But as hard as she tried to rock out, those looks still betrayed her. The juxtaposition was a bit unsettling.
My friend, Andrew, agreed with me afterward: it must be humbling to be a professional musician these days -- there's absolutely no room to suck. And suck Metric does not. They ripped through about half of the new record, Live It Out, before bringing out some of the old faves from Old World Underground, Where Are You Now. It sounded so good, it could've easily been the CDs I was listening to. And that's another problem with being too good. For those same $10, you could just as easily buy one of the CDs and listen to it as many times as you want. And, as an added bonus, you won't have to jostle for elbow room with a smelly, six-foot-five coffee shop clerk, or try to glimpse the band through some tattooed guy's earlobe hoops.
Metric did save their best for last: an encore rendition of "Dead Disco" that devolved into an improvisational psychedelic freakout before it was all over fifteen or so minutes later, the impressive light kit (six stage-to-ceiling columns of multicolored computer-controlled LED banks) no doubt inducing a seizure or two in the crowd. I would have preferred more of that crazy shit than by-the-numbers renderings of album tracks, but it's not like I didn't enjoy the show. On balance, it was pretty good.
We caught a few cuts by the first band, Men, Women and Children (not an entirely accurate moniker, btw), a recent major-label signing that sounds conspicuously like The Rapture (and which would have been entirely at home in a tent at last year's Coachella, but which seemed slightly dated last night -- ah, the miniscule half life of a rock and roll trend). Not bad at all, quite competent in fact. Certainly worth checking out again and maybe paying a bit more attention to next time.
Then Islands, seven guys in white jumpsuits, hopped onstage and started to frolick through a set that... sounded awfully familiar. They had a drummer, a clarinetist, an oboist, a fiddler, a keyboardist, a guitarist, a bassist, a singer -- it was mayhem up there on stage. Confused by the familiar-sounding material (I was sure I had never heard a single track before, but it sure as hell seemed like I had), I closed my eyes and started to pace through my deep catalog of indie rock knowledge, when it hit me.
They sounded like The Unicorns! Which made a little bit of sense, since the weblink provided by Cat's Cradle took me to a shitty-looking MySpace page that explained Islands was from Montreal. And The Unicorns were from Montreal, too. And both bands did have an odd affinity for sea shanties.
Well, turns out I was right: I asked the dude selling t-shirts for them what Islands was all about, and he confirmed that Islands is Jaime Thompson and Nick Diamonds from The Unicorns (R.I.P), plus a whole bunch of other folks who seem to come and go as they please. In fact, they sound like The Unicorns evolved slightly, with a bit more cohesive structure. Like maybe they'd been listening to some old Woodentops records and something sunk in. They were also very very good. So I bought the CD, Return to the Sea (and paid an ungodly $15 for it, though I am now very glad I did).
Which, I should also point out, has not yet been released in the US and in fact will not be until April 4, at which point you should really think about buying it (I am talking to you, fellow Unicorns fan). Here's an added incentive: credited on the CD (but not appearing onstage last night, sad to say) are Tim Kingsbury, Regine Chassagne, Sarah Neufield, Pietro Amato, Richard Reed Parry, and Will Butler -- basically, everyone in The Arcade Fire except Win (proving once and for all that his shit seriously don't smell). A mashup of The Arcade Fire and The Unicorns -- a fucking Quebecois indie supergroup is what it looks (and sounds) like to me.
Islands is coming back to the Cradle next month as headliners. Chances are good I'll be there, but this time I'll be singing along. And far less confused.
You should know (if you do not already) that Emily Haines' Metric (and make no mistake, it's 100% her band) makes impeccably tight new-wave inspired pop-punk that, had it been around thirty years or so ago, would likely have been mentioned in the same breath as Blondie, Pat Benatar, and Joan Jett. As it is, now you can safely mention Metric in the same breath as, um, PJ Harvey, Morningwood, and, uh, maybe Courtney Love I guess.
Unfortunately, for all her efforts Emily Haines just doesn't have the rock star chops of the aforementioned acts. Onstage, she looks skinny (because she is) and a bit haggard. The only other time I saw her -- as a member of Broken Social Scene at Coachella -- I thought she looked even worse: skinny, haggard, and frightened as well. Onstage with Metric last night, though, she wasn't the least bit scared, projecting a ton of confidence once the music started. But as hard as she tried to rock out, those looks still betrayed her. The juxtaposition was a bit unsettling.
My friend, Andrew, agreed with me afterward: it must be humbling to be a professional musician these days -- there's absolutely no room to suck. And suck Metric does not. They ripped through about half of the new record, Live It Out, before bringing out some of the old faves from Old World Underground, Where Are You Now. It sounded so good, it could've easily been the CDs I was listening to. And that's another problem with being too good. For those same $10, you could just as easily buy one of the CDs and listen to it as many times as you want. And, as an added bonus, you won't have to jostle for elbow room with a smelly, six-foot-five coffee shop clerk, or try to glimpse the band through some tattooed guy's earlobe hoops.
Metric did save their best for last: an encore rendition of "Dead Disco" that devolved into an improvisational psychedelic freakout before it was all over fifteen or so minutes later, the impressive light kit (six stage-to-ceiling columns of multicolored computer-controlled LED banks) no doubt inducing a seizure or two in the crowd. I would have preferred more of that crazy shit than by-the-numbers renderings of album tracks, but it's not like I didn't enjoy the show. On balance, it was pretty good.
We caught a few cuts by the first band, Men, Women and Children (not an entirely accurate moniker, btw), a recent major-label signing that sounds conspicuously like The Rapture (and which would have been entirely at home in a tent at last year's Coachella, but which seemed slightly dated last night -- ah, the miniscule half life of a rock and roll trend). Not bad at all, quite competent in fact. Certainly worth checking out again and maybe paying a bit more attention to next time.
Then Islands, seven guys in white jumpsuits, hopped onstage and started to frolick through a set that... sounded awfully familiar. They had a drummer, a clarinetist, an oboist, a fiddler, a keyboardist, a guitarist, a bassist, a singer -- it was mayhem up there on stage. Confused by the familiar-sounding material (I was sure I had never heard a single track before, but it sure as hell seemed like I had), I closed my eyes and started to pace through my deep catalog of indie rock knowledge, when it hit me.
They sounded like The Unicorns! Which made a little bit of sense, since the weblink provided by Cat's Cradle took me to a shitty-looking MySpace page that explained Islands was from Montreal. And The Unicorns were from Montreal, too. And both bands did have an odd affinity for sea shanties.
Well, turns out I was right: I asked the dude selling t-shirts for them what Islands was all about, and he confirmed that Islands is Jaime Thompson and Nick Diamonds from The Unicorns (R.I.P), plus a whole bunch of other folks who seem to come and go as they please. In fact, they sound like The Unicorns evolved slightly, with a bit more cohesive structure. Like maybe they'd been listening to some old Woodentops records and something sunk in. They were also very very good. So I bought the CD, Return to the Sea (and paid an ungodly $15 for it, though I am now very glad I did).
Which, I should also point out, has not yet been released in the US and in fact will not be until April 4, at which point you should really think about buying it (I am talking to you, fellow Unicorns fan). Here's an added incentive: credited on the CD (but not appearing onstage last night, sad to say) are Tim Kingsbury, Regine Chassagne, Sarah Neufield, Pietro Amato, Richard Reed Parry, and Will Butler -- basically, everyone in The Arcade Fire except Win (proving once and for all that his shit seriously don't smell). A mashup of The Arcade Fire and The Unicorns -- a fucking Quebecois indie supergroup is what it looks (and sounds) like to me.
Islands is coming back to the Cradle next month as headliners. Chances are good I'll be there, but this time I'll be singing along. And far less confused.
posted by Bill Purdy, 9:51 AM