Category Archives: Concerts

by | April 30, 2016 · 1:48 pm

Roger Waters Tour Kick-Off Proves How Important The Wall Is

Roger Waters performing The Wall in Toronto

Roger Waters performing The Wall in Toronto

September 15, 2010
Air Canada Centre
Toronto, ON

Somewhere amidst the arrival of the giant inflatable “Mother,” the none-too-subtle animated film showing war planes carpet-bombing suburbs with Christian crosses, Islamic crescents and Jewish Stars of David, plus Shell and Mercedez-Benz logos, and the graffiti-style scrawl of “Big Brother Is Watching You” splayed across the literal giant wall that was rapidly being built to consume the full back 20 per cent of the Air Canada Centre, a nervous pang of realization hit me:

The Wall is really fucking important. And that concerns me because I have no idea what the future holds for this truly important work.

Roger Waters kicked off his massive 30th anniversary tour of The Wall last night in Toronto. It was the first time a full, proper production of the classic album and related stage show has happened since Waters’ former band Pink Floyd toured it in 1980.

True to his word, The Wall was done in its entirety with some incredible technological augmentation and, most importantly, a well-executed focus on bringing a “broader meaning” to what was originally Waters’ intensely personal album about the death of his father, his wife leaving him, abuse at school, and personal isolation.

In the 2010 version of The Wall, fallen 9/11 firefighters share equal tributes with Iraqi civilian casualties in a sweeping condemnation of capitalism, organized religion, politics and the sort of Apple i-everything universe we live in, all with a trust-no-one zeal that would make The X-Files‘ Fox Mulder blush for lack of commitment.

With Waters already deep into his 60s, the odds of him revisiting The Wall again in three more decades is mighty unlikely, despite how spry he looked on stage this night. And if this, like hushed rumours are to be believed, is the last time Waters will ever properly do The Wall, the question that hit me around the time “Goodbye Blue Sky” played became “Who will break down The Wall when he’s gone?”

It’s very clear from Waters’ massaging of the show that The Wall is something now very much bigger than its creator, and something that needs to not only be seen now, but well into the future as well.

Waters himself is often just a bit player in a production full of massive pyrotechnics, flying pigs, arena consuming walls, gang-singing schoolchildren, and elaborately choreographed interactive light and film scenes. Certainly, the lack of ex-Floyd co-conspirator David Gilmour’s presence wasn’t really noticed. His role was filled by a guy who’s name I’d print but you’d be bored by the Google search results.

Waters could easily be swapped out in a future Wall universe. He spent substantial portions of the show behind said Wall, or obscured in a Black Bloc-echoing black hoodie and jeans ensemble anyway. Licencing out The Wall to Eddie Vedder or Thom Yorke or PJ Harvey or someone else with character and artistic judgment would ensure that the revolutionary slogans that get projected onto the Wall during the show could get to live on.

When “Comfortably Numb” was played, in every section of the arena people were jumping out of their seats, holding their arms out with religious fervor and singing along. They could’ve been propelled by the numerous billowing pot clouds and the free-flowing ACC beer taps, but the song played out just as much a cautionary tale as a stoner anthem, so there was more to it than that. Likewise, “Run Like Hell,” which Waters introduced by saying, “Is there anyone here who’s weak? This song’s for you,” received a similar reaction.

What I was really witnessing in that arena last night was a sort of communing of sensitive souls, a meeting of people who think there’s something not quite right in the world. These were people who haven’t quite given up yet, who still want to break down that metaphorical Wall.

That experience isn’t one that should be limited to the attendees of the 100 or so shows that Waters intends to do on this tour. This new Wall is bigger than that. As a concert/theatre/spectacle Waters’ current edition of The Wall is something every self-respecting rock fan should witness. But what’s more important is that The Wall Rogers unveiled last night lives on for a long time.

This review was originally published September 16, 2010 via Chart Communications.

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by | March 21, 2016 · 12:11 pm

LIVE: Heart, Joan Jett, The Mandevilles In Toronto

Queens Of Sheeba tour featuring Heart and Joan Jett

Queens Of Sheeba tour featuring Heart and Joan Jett

LIVE: Heart, Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, The Mandevilles
March 20, 2016
Sony Centre For The Performing Arts
Toronto, Ontario

Right about the time when Heart guitarist Nancy Wilson began winding her way through the acoustic intro to the classic rock ultra-hit “Crazy On You” my internal monologue was clicking away at a checklist:

Are Heart better than Aerosmith? Check.
Are Heart better than Lynyrd Skynyrd? Check.
Are Heart better than The Guess Who? Check.
Are Heart better than Fleetwood Mac? Check.
Are Heart better than Van Halen? Hmmm, those Van Halen and 1984 albums are pretty good…

The point is that Heart, the 40+ year running institution fronted by shattering-voiced Ann Wilson and her sister Nancy, aren’t just the biggest, best and most important band among the “women of rock” (a term I find loathsome for its pigeonholing need to classify musical acts not by whether or not they’re awesome at what they do, but by whether or not they have vaginas), they’re among the biggest, best and most important rock bands of all-times. Because, besides a few foundational pillars — The Rolling Stones, The Who, Bruce Springsteen, David Bowie — Heart are virtually unmatched.

Of course, none of this mental gamesmanship really mattered once long-time Heart guitarist Craig Bartock dove into the mind-altering “Crazy On You” riff that has propelled it to decades-long anchorings on classic rock radio station Top 100 song lists.

“Crazy On You” was just one wow moment in a series of wow moments from Heart during the Toronto touchdown of the Queens of Sheeba tour featuring the Wilson sisters and crew, Joan Jett & The Blackhearts and The Mandevilles at the Sony Centre. Kicking off their set with the throwdown of “Magic Man” and “Heartless,” the band quickly shifted gears to the uber-ballad “What About Love.” I used to hate this song when it first came out. At the time I was all about Motley Crue’s Shout At The Devil album and this song’s ubiquity (it made it to #3 on the Canadian Adult Contemporary Chart) and ballad-ness felt like a betrayal to the idealized badass rocker version of Heart my childish self had imagined. Decades later, though, the song’s hallelujah resonance is a lot clearer. There were people in the audience for whom this song was their church: hands up, all a-flutter, connecting with their higher power.

The rest of Heart’s set also had a number of lightning bolt moments. “Barracuda,” with its signature chug, was fist-pumpingly satisfying and the three-song cover set encores of “Immigrant Song,” a lysergic “No Quarter” and “Misty Mountain Hop” were, let’s face, probably the closest any of us with get to hearing these songs played by Led Zeppelin in 2016 or beyond.

Not lost on us this evening was the inclusion of equality-minded 1980 single “Even It Up” to the mid-section of Heart’s set. The song’s specific qualities were perhaps less important than its symbolic ones. This was, after all, a tour named after a biblical queen featuring three female-led rock acts.

Which brings us to the evening’s co-headliner, Joan Jett & The Blackhearts.

Joan Jett

Joan Jett

What Jett may lack in GOAT classic rock cache, she more than makes up for as one of the most iconic figures in rock ‘n’ roll history. Without Jett would riot grrrl have existed? Hole? Liz Phair? The Distillers? Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Maybe, but it’s very easy to imagine Jett as the person who cleared the path for future generations of badasses.

If Heart’s set was a masterclass of crescendoes and cloud-touching epiphanies, Jett’s was a tromp through New York City gutters with a switchblade in hand.

From the first moment of signature opener “Bad Reputation,” Jett had the derby girls and Bovine bartenders on their days off in the audience relentlessly hustling through the aisles in attempts to sneak closer to the stage. They had good reason for magnetically pulling towards the stage.

Jett’s time warps through Runaways hits “Cherry Bomb” and “You Drive Me Wild” were both vivid reminders of her icon status and the fact that she has, quite literally, been rocking out since she was a teenager.

Perhaps the most remarkable trait about Jett, though, is the way in which she’s inhabited other people’s songs over the years and made them her own. I don’t know anyone besides the most contrarian rockist who would choose The Arrows’ take on “I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll” over Jett’s world-winning version. Likewise, Tommy James & The Shondells’ “Crimson And Clover” will never match the steamy potency Jett brings to her take on the song.

If there were any missteps in Jett’s set they were tonal more than technical. Jett turned horrible-person Gary Glitter’s “Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah)” into a hand-waving glam-rock singalong. As a song and as a moment it was great. Framed culturally, though, performing a song by Glitter, a convicted sexual predator, isn’t dangerous so much as it’s dangerously out of step with expectations we assign to someone as important as Jett. New song “TMI” might be a little too get-off-my-lawn with its condemnation of social media/selfie culture, as well.

Frankly, most of the Sony Centre audience didn’t care. It was, after all, more about loving rock ‘n’ roll than chin-stroking internal debates on the implied endorsement of reprehensible people by covering their songs.

Indeed, if Jett could distill the complexity of the human condition into the four perfect minutes of “I Hate Myself For Loving You” perhaps I’m putting too much thought into it. After all, Jett’s closing cover of Sly & The Family Stone’s “Everyday People” and its message of peace, racial and social equality is probably a much better takeaway from was ultimately a satisfyingly valiant set of rock ‘n’ roll.

Another sort of bravery was on display this night from opening act The Mandevilles. While promoters probably could have gotten anyone they wanted at a certain level to act as curtain jerker for the Sheeba tour, the choice of the Niagara Falls-based Mandevilles had symbolic value. Fronted by Southern Ontario scene veteran Serena Pryne, the inclusion of The Mandevilles was a nod to all the women of rock who are still fighting it out in the clubs. Pryne and her Bonnie Tyler-ian wail had the odds stacked against them, having to play acoustically to a slowly filling theatre, but by relentlessly pushing forward with “Windows And Stones,” the brassy “I Stole Your Band” and a spirited run through The Who’s “The Real Me” they held their own. And if the “hey, that wasn’t bad” proclamations from the cottage rock dads sitting behind me post-set were any indication, The Mandevilles should take their efforts this evening more as success than faint praise.

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by | March 16, 2016 · 5:06 pm

Stills And Young Briefly Awaken Crosby And Nash

Crosby, Stills Nash & Young. Photo by Rachel Verbin

Crosby, Stills Nash & Young. Photo by Rachel Verbin

LIVE: Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
July 10, 2006
Air Canada Centre
Toronto, Ontario

Named the “Freedom Of Speech” tour and featuring Neil Young playing most of his anti-Bush album, Living With War, the current Crosby, Stills, Nash And Young jaunt seemed perfectly designed to reharness the counter-culture energy that made CSNY protest heroes almost four decades ago.

The big question, though, was whether would the audience turn on and tune in or drop out. The early odds were even. Sure there were pockets of young rascals and sweet familial pairs (a father with tangled hair and teenage daughter dressed in burlap — how noble it is to keep Greenpeace supplied with volunteers), but the bulk of the audience was comprised of middle to upper-middle class, well-heeled white people. Your dad, wearing a casual golf shirt, was there. So was William, the assistant director and his well-pilatesized second wife, Audrey.

The key factor in all of this is that these people — the comfortable charity gala lefties — were the ones who would really have to dig the messages CSNY were putting out if the show was to have any success. No offense to the dudes up in the cheap seats, but you’re not the fellas that can affect real change. At least not yet.

The show kicked off with Young’s “Flags Of Freedom,” complete with a backdrop of rotating Canadian, British, American and associated allied flags. It was well received, although it’s hard not to rile up a crowd with the cheap pop of flag waving. The remainder of the 13-song first set rotated fairly evenly between Living With War numbers (“The Restless Consumer,” “Shock And Awe,” “After The Garden”) and tracks from CSNY’s various permutations (“Wooden Ships,” “Military Madness,” “Immigration Man”). Tom Bray’s trumpet work on Young songs, and throughout the evening, added a consistently solid punch, but the rants against Bush (David Crosby referred to him as a “chimpanzee” at one point) and song-form shots at bureaucracy and consumerism seemed to fall on relatively disinterested, if not deaf, ears.

The 20-minute intermission before the second set allowed CSNY to recharge. The piano double shot of the Graham Nash-featured “Our House” and Young’s “Only Love Can Break Your Heart” roused the crowd with some much-needed hit power. Sure, they’re love songs, not rebel songs, but they at least got the crowd moving.

The rise in temperature in the audience also buoyed Stephen Stills’ romancing-the-crime song, “Treetop Flyer.” With snap-of-finger suddenness, it brought the wobbling Stills to life. Until then, it had been mostly Young showing any spikes of emotion, but now half of CSNY seemed dialed in.

Stills’ next move, “Southern Cross,” brought the full band, four astride (no wandering by Nash and no rooted disinterest from Crosby), to full attention. From here on out, the quartet rolled out the protest that they had flirted with aggressively all night. “For What It’s Worth” was awkward, but Young’s blunt “Let’s Impeach The President,” complete with a video monitor that flashed mugshots of dead soldiers, brought it all back home. The payoff that would follow was a truly fiery “Ohio.”

It may have taken CSNY ’til the two-and-a-half-hour mark, but there it was. That combustible hippie righteousness had finally flickered, fanned and burst. The crowd, tepid for much of the night, was singing, clapping and in some pockets, downright flailing (eighth row, centre, floors — dude, I saw that usher trying to bum your trip all night).

I must say, even my jaded rock critic soul experienced suspension of disbelief when the band then hurdled into “Rockin’ In The Free World.” That five minutes of sloganeering was followed by a brusk run through “Woodstock” and then it was done. In the end, there were about 20 minutes total in the nearly three-hour set where pure, unadulterated fight-the-power-ness actually broke through to the crowd. In the mathematics of rebellion, Toronto ultimately had little screw-the-man vigor in its heart.

It wasn’t a complete loss, though. There’s a causeway that connects the ACC to Union Station that features an array of fancy display automobiles. Walking past them after the show, I noticed someone had besmirched one of the SUVs with a Greenpeace bumper sticker. It was surely the work of one of those burlap-wearing teenage girls and not one of the Eddie Bauer golf dads, but it was at least something. Perhaps it’s really about the small victories. If that’s the case, consider Toronto a win.

This story was originally published July 11, 2006 via Chart Communications.

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by | March 14, 2016 · 3:49 pm

Dead Man’s Bones Are Thrillingly Alive

Dead Man's Bones

Dead Man’s Bones

LIVE: Dead Man’s Bones
October 20, 2009
Opera House
Toronto, Ontario

Ryan Gosling and Zach Shields shouldn’t be good. Their singing voices hover around adequate, their playing is often rudimentary, their songs usually contain one or two solid verses and shouty choruses that can’t sustain even a modest three minute single, and their live shows are patchworked, under-rehearsed affairs that have the feel of a high school talent show.

Throw in Gosling’s Hollywood heartthrob status, the spotty pedigree of other actors-turned-musicians (Keanu Reeves, Kevin Costner, Billy Bob Thornton, etc.), and a dogging cred-burning stigma that they’re just two tourists playing rock star at the expense of the lifers and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.

In short, Dead Man’s Bones shouldn’t work at all.

But they do, and quite often gloriously so.

The sign on the door said “SOLD OUT” by the time I arrived at The Opera House (the show had already been upgraded once from the much smaller Music Gallery) and the floor was packed with people trying to keep up with the jive of Mysterion The Mind Reader.

Mysterion’s a bit been-there-done-that to anyone who frequents Parkdale bars, but plunked in the middle of a rapidfire variety-show-as-opening-act his routine helped establish a fantastical tone for the evening.

Tatiana “from the circus” then threw four white doves around the stage with varying levels of success before a pair introduced as Phillip and Tanya executed a series of lifts, dances and contortions. Tatiana then returned to the stage with a team of dancing poodles.

Shields and Gosling walked on to the stage immediately following the poodle routine (with some of the dogs still loitering side stage) to squeals and a sea of flickering camera phones. They backed the ghost-sheeted narrator of the variety portion of the show in an old tyme-y number, escorted a face-painted, white cloak-wearing ghost choir of children on to risers and hurled into “Flowers Grow Out Of My Grave.” The ghost kids went crazy, dancing around, pumping their fists and losing the hoods of their costumes.

It was a darling start and it set the tone perfectly.

Up next was “In The Room Where You Sleep,” complete with Shields pounding away in some sort of percussion playground and Gosling bouncing at the keys.

The extended clapalong start to “Lose Your Soul” brought a party vibe that pretty much ran contrary to a song about losing your soul, but that was probably the whole point.

After introducing the ghost choir as students from the Etobicoke School Of The Arts and playing the rather morbid “Buried In Water,” the show devolved into a mini-opera. This involved one of the ghost choir girls getting shot with sparkly streamers and then somehow transforming into a film sheet which the band then held up to project black and white home movie of what appeared to be Shields and Gosling hiking around.

Shields quavered his way through “Werewolf Heart” before Gosling took the lead again on signature track “Dead Man’s Bones.” It was about the time the ghost choir broke into an extended crying/sobbing fit during the song’s breakdown that the true depth of Dead Man’s Bones’ ridiculousness really became clear.

To be fair, it all felt 100 per cent genuine. Gosling and Shields aren’t taking the piss or pulling one over on people. It’s clear in their world nothing says good times like singing about hauntings and death while letting loose with a choir of teenie-boppers. It’s wonderfully twisted and fun and it’s way more charming than you’d ever think it would be.

The band are at their best when they’re making like it’s 1957 with Gosling in the role of Buddy Holly. Indeed, “My Body’s A Zombie For You,” complete with cheerleader-style “Imma z-o-m-b-i-e, Zombie!” chant, could soundtrack any period b-movie horror set at the sock hop.

“Pa Pa Power” devolved into a near rave out and concluded with Shields counting out “1,2… 1,2,3… Die!” with everyone then collapsing in a heap of playdead bodies onstage. This then morphed into a crowd singalong of the “Paper Ship” line “a ghost ship on the blue” and a polite exit from the stage. There was no encore.

A slogan sublimated on to the back cover of the Dead Man’s Bones album says “Never let a lack of talent get you down.” On this night Dead Man’s Bones and a bunch of schoolkids playing ghost did just that and proved if you’ve got the right spirit, even dead things can seem incredibly alive.

This story was originally published Oct. 21, 2009 via Chart Communications.

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by | March 12, 2016 · 6:18 pm

Fred Penner Hosts Music Therapy Trust Concert

Some of the Music Therapy Concert performers

Some of the Music Therapy Concert performers

A neat concert took place last night where veteran children’s entertainer Fred Penner got together with a bunch of young whippersnappers to support the Canadian Music Therapy Trust Fund.

Before the concert I found out a little bit about music therapy and spoke to Penner.

To read the story about it head over to Samaritanmag by clicking here.

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