People are always bitching that Toronto has no culture and is nothing but a Mecca for corporate claptrap. But what they don’t know is that Toronto has hosted the five-day Canadian Music Week (CMW) festival for 18 of its 19 years in existence. The festival has been dubbed “the single largest entertainment and broadcasting event in Canada.” February 27 to March 3 saw over 180 bands at 18 venues.
And the only question left: could our town measure up? Bloody right! Five days of rock, punk, thrash, emo, country, jazz, spoken word and everything in between. Being slightly musically biased, I spent my time checking out the Rock And Roll: Cheerleader, CJ Sleez and the STDs, Moneen, the Smugglers, Slutarded, Damn 13, Maximum RNB and the Exploders (plus so, so many more) in just in two magical nights.
Starting things off at the Tequila Lounge, I saw Toronto’s Cheerleader, whose most memorable RNR moment was kicking the mic stand in disgust and spitting at the audience, just because. If your definition of Rock And Roll is ceaseless assaults to your sense of well-being that leave you cowering in the corner with nothing but brutish noise ripping into your soul, then you just might like them. They play it old school, dirty and dangerous—just the way mom wished it wouldn’t be.
Up next was every guy’s favourite, another Toronto-based act—CJ Sleez and her darling STDs. Decked out in a leather demi-halter top with matching hot pants, CJ wheeled and dealed her pornographic version of Rock gone terribly right. Most memorable moments include watching her give a handjob to the mic stand and seeing her flail her thin tatted limbs about with feigned-femme rage. It’s too bad she cut the set short, as her gnawing vocals and repetitious “Get the fuck up here!” taunts were starting to warm the scarier ones in the crowd to get on stage with her.
Trekking through downtown, I made it down to the Rivoli, where Brampton’s Moneen was playing to a near-capacity room and an impressive line-up waiting outside, as well. This quartet calls their sound the “collaboration of melodic influence” and you can definitely hear it. The thunderous attack of thrashing guitars was in full effect as they mocked and terrorized the audience into submission while the deep bass lines rivetted and shook the innards like a cardiac arrest. All this over drums that punched through the electric noise and riled the patrons like a tribal summons, grounded in lyrics that were at turns highly humourous but always retained an introspective feel.
Memorable moments: witnessing the lead singer stalking around on stage in his U.S.A boxers and shorts slouched on his head. Finally finding comfort perched on a speaker, he lurches his body forward, reaches out to his mom and mockingly sings: “How many times have you seen me naked?” Embarrassed, his mother utters, “Too many times,” much to the amusement of all in attendance.
Last stop had me at the Legendary Horseshoe Tavern to see Vancouver’s Smugglers. I was met with smoke and a ringing fire alarm, the result of the pyrotechnics-laden Robin Black set and the ultimate foreshadowing of events.
I need to make a disclaimer: I don’t own a Smugglers album. However, I have a penchant for their live shows. They have the unique ability to channel energy, producing manic fits of spastic dancing and rebel yells that’d make Billy Idol look uncommitted. Their fans are as devout as they come, singing along with Grant and telling him how much they love him. If you don’t have a soft spot for the Smugglers, you obviously don’t have a heart. Period.
Memorable Smugglers moments include seeing Grant and the lads trade up their black sport jackets and rubber boots for white sports jackets and white 60’s Mod dress shoes—but who else but wacky West Coasters could get away with such a brazen attitude towards fashion? Never let anyone tell you Toronto doesn’t know how to put on a good show. If they do, they’ve never been courted by the Canadian Courtesan of Rock And Roll, otherwise known as CMW.
