Rococode, Whale Tooth, Birds of Tokyo, Mother Mother
The Phoenix//Wednesday, March 9
8:10 p.m.: The show is sold out and I’m waiting in a long line to get in. A homeless guy clad in a white sheet and cowboy hat is doing his best to entertain the crowd by rambling on about Rob Ford’s erectile dysfunction and singing surprisingly catchy little compositions, such as: “without you and your stinky poo the world wouldn’t be the same – it’s true”
8:40 p.m.: Opener Rococode takes the stage with a short, beat-driven intro. The venue is still pretty empty.
9:40 p.m.: The second band of the night, Whale Tooth, has started their set and someone just sent a drink onstage. Singer Elise appeals to the audience: “Keep em’ coming, baby.”
10:50 p.m.: Dear Birds of Tokyo singer, I know you want to be all weird and edgy, but the awkward jerky dance moves you’re pulling don’t make up for your lame sound. The singer’s voice is melodramatic, reminiscent of My Chemical Romance (I hate My Chemical Romance).
11:42 p.m.: Mother Mother has owned the start of their set. They’re on their third song right now — a little less energetic than the two before — but still catchy as hell. The lead singer has a feminine quality to his voice that works in perfect sink with the two female keyboard players’ harmonies.
11:50 p.m.: The lead singer is rocking the fist-in-the-air pump. That’s easy to turn into a frat-boyesque gimmick, but the crowd is really getting into it as the beat of his fist underlies the hook.
12:01 a.m.: They’re finishing up a song in a manic, dissonant, hammering on the keyboard while one of the girls is showing off her impressive vocal range. The audience is jumping, dancing, and singing along to their beat-driven songs and their catchy hooks.—ASSUNTA ALEGIANI
Little Girls, Metz, Austra
Wrongbar//Thursday, March 10
10:30 p.m.: Arrive at Wrongbar with Design Editor Tom Cardoso. There doesn’t seem to be too much going on up in the club, so we decide to casually lean against surfaces until shit starts to go down.
11:00 p.m.: Little Girls have arrived on stage and we are immediately in awe. The once-empty Wrongbar starts to fill up.
11:05 p.m.: Excuse the exaggeration — but the sound is hella good as the band launches into “Youth Tunes.” I would happily pay to see this.
11:11 p.m.: The drummer’s glasses are falling off of his face and it’s effing adorable.
11:20 p.m.: This is the kind of music people should fuck to.
11:25 p.m.: The drummer has played it safe and removed his glasses. More on this as it develops.
12:01 a.m.: A decent crowd has formed for Metz — excellently ominous lighting for an excellently ominous band.
12:20 a.m.: Is this music painfully loud or am I getting painfully old? Though don’t get me wrong, I am truly in love with Metz’s work.
12:25 a.m.: The band leaves us with their last song, “Negative Space.” Goodbye Metz, you were wonderful tonight.
12:26 a.m.: Oh man, the dude sitting next to us has put his legs up on the bar table and he’s aggressively bobbing his head around. What an enigma.
1:02 a.m.: Austra is setting up and I’m standing in a crowd of very good-looking people. There seem to be some technical difficulties, and an anxious-looking soundman weaves through the packed house. Oh, and Nasty Nav is here. I feel obligated to tell him that he looks slightly like my dad.
1:24 a.m.: After some technical issues, Austra decides to perform without a DI (whatever that is). I’m sure my untrained ears will not be able to tell the difference.
1:25 a.m.: Yep, it’s true, I can’t tell the difference.
1:32 a.m.: Only a couple minutes into the set and I’m quite confident about the fact that I’ll be bragging about this show for years to come.
1:40 a.m.: The dance party has broken out.
1:45 a.m.: “Austra, Austra, Austra, Austra!” — this shit should be trending on Twitter.
1:52 a.m.: Everyone recognizes the track “The Beat and the Pulse,” and begin to beat and pulse accordingly.—NAVI LAMBA
Modern Superstitions, Molly Rankin, Memphis, Still Life Still, Zeus, Rich Aucoin, The Wilderness
The Horseshoe//Thursday, March 10
8:30 p.m.: Being the opening band must suck. While most people are probably sitting down somewhere to have dinner, Modern Superstitions is taking on the task of partying it up in front of — well, pretty much no one. The only crowd in front of the stage is a swarm of photographers.
9:20 p.m.: Molly Rankin from Nova Scotia takes the stage. The back of the venue has filled up but front is still empty. I’m not too stoked to hear this band. They’re all wearing preppy collared shirts, buttoned up all the way to the top. Did they just stumble out of prep school?
9:47 p.m.: Ok, lesson learned. Don’t judge a band by its collars. Molly Rankin’s sound is a dreamy, mellow, indie-pop. It’s accessible, swing-along music, and Molly Rankin is charming as she narrates the show with deadpan humour and dry wit.
10:15 p.m.: I just spotted Kevin Drew! (Nobody else seems to be as excited as I am — I love Broken Social Scene.)
10:20 p.m.: If I “accidentally” tripped and spilled some beer over him, maybe we would end up talking. And then maybe we would go home together. And then maybe in thirty years we could tell our grandchildren about the day we met.
10:40 p.m.: Memphis has been playing for awhile, but I’m not into it. The band’s fans are mainly middle-aged, and it just seems wrong to hear someone talk about ‘fucking’ and ‘weed’ when they look like your dad.
11:30 p.m.: Still Life Still is captivating right from the start, building multilayered sound walls and long, elaborative instrumentals.
12:40 a.m.: Zeus’s singer gets a dance party started as they launch into “How Does it Feel.” The band is at home in their self-described “natural habitat”.
12:47 a.m.: This place is a sauna, except that people are fully dressed and unintended touching is inevitable. Gross.
1:34 a.m.: Rich Aucoin is setting up. There’s a sheet covering half the stage with the words “New Year Countdown” projected onto it. People are distributing glow sticks, and the place is beginning to look like a neon-wonderland.
2:30 a.m.: A piece of advice: go see a Rich Aucoin show before he gets too big. I’ve abandoned my notes because I’m completely caught up in an acid user’s wet-dream of neon-coloured confetti and glow sticks. Everything Rich Aucoin does involves audience participation. With every song he comes down from the stage and dances with the crowd, forming mo-town dance circles, and cueing everyone to jump at the same time. Eventually he brings out a parachute and everyone gathers around to wave it up and down. People are taking turns running under the parachute and dancing. This is what live music should be.—AA
James Vincent McMarrow, Kurt Vile, J Mascis
The Great Hall//Friday, March 10
9:10 p.m.: Arrive to the Great Hall. A long line has formed outside for the much anticipated Kurt Vile, J Mascis show.
9:18 p.m.: James Vincent McMarrow hits the stage. This is a huge change from last night. With this beautiful acoustic guitar, I’m going to have to set my phone to silent. This show is going to cause me to barf flowers or something equally as lovely.
9:20 p.m.: Someone was just shushed — this is so good!
9:38 p.m.: McMarrow is compensating for his lack of a band by sharing Seinfeld-style anecdotes about smoking in airports.
9:45 p.m.: People need to STFU. The shushing is not working anymore.
10:00 p.m.: The main man of the evening, Kurt Vile, takes the stage and receives many woos, the audience is definitely here to see him.
10:04 p.m.: The dude’s guitar strap is a piece of string: What a crafty young man!
10:18 p.m.: Vile breaks out fancy electric guitar and feels the need to explain to the audience that it is in fact a Pinto. No one seems to care.
10:20 p.m.: Kurt Vile fits that “I think I went to high school with this dude” archetype perfectly. That is, if you went to high school with socially awkward, long haired, white boys.
10:24 p.m.: And he just made a “your mom” joke – suspicions confirmed!
11:00 p.m.: J Mascis gets on stage! The guy seems to only have one expression, and it is complete ambivalence. (Old) people are losing their shit.
12:15 a.m.: Kevin Drew joins Mascis on stage and makes his Toronto debut. JUST KIDDING. Who gives a shit?
12:20 a.m.: Mascis does an encore; the man has the stamina of a young race horse. Though, it also must’ve helped that he was sitting on a chair for his entire set.—NL
Bravestation, Allie Hughes, The Meligrove Band, DVAS
Sneaky Dee’s//Friday, March 11
10:27 p.m.: You can tell Bravestation are experienced and comfortable on stage, and a lot of people are singing along. Their sound is reminiscent of Foals or Yeasayer, with great melodies and rhythmic patterns. Unfortunately, the sound here isn’t the best and it swallows the vocals a bit, droning out the lyrics.
11:00 p.m.: “Yes, I am the much-buzzed about band Allie Hughes, but I am also the person, and I believe both are equally important.” Allie Hughes begins her show, dressed in a short, purple prom dress, with a long, white veil over her head. Grandeur is for those who claim it. But, I’m not sure if the eccentricity will match the talent.
11:20 p.m.: This is more cabaret than anything else. She is over-the-top and theatrical, self-aware and self-deprecating. More impressively, she is varied in her singing and vacillates from breezy vocals to operatic arias in a matter of moments.
11:21 p.m.: She just asked her boyfriend, Chad, to join her onstage for the next song. Promptly, a short, chubby man in a suit jacket makes his way through the crowd, yelling: “I’m coming through my dear!.” Have I already mentioned that this show is hilarious?
11:40 p.m.: Has it become cool to like Britney Spears? Allie Hughes just played a cover of “Toxic,” which couldn’t have been catchier. I’ve rarely seen anyone so entertaining, but for some reason the audience doesn’t seem to be that into it. Granted her music isn’t terribly catchy, but that’s not what it’s about here. It’s more about the projection of a persona.
1:25 a.m.: The Meligrove Band looks like the consequence of a few nerds deciding to abandon their video games and form a band in the hopes of getting girls. Surprisingly, they have a great stage presence that is both assertive and energetic.
2:50 a.m.: Electro dance band DVAS is the closing act, and against all expectations, Sneaky Dee’s is still pretty full.
3:10 a.m.: It’s late and I’m tired, but DVAS wakes you up. The lead singer and keyboardist has crazy curly hair and sounds like the Bee Gees. Right now he’s rapping to some ‘80’s classic-rock-gone-electronic and it turns the crowd into a dancing mob.
3:45 a.m.: DVAS is done – a fun ending to a good night.—AA
Hannah Georgas , Bombay Bicycle Club, Hollerado , Shad, Janelle Monáe
Canadian Room, Fairmont Royal York Hotel//Saturday, March 12
8:10 p.m.: Headed to the Fairmont Royal York, where the Indies — the largest event of Canadian Music Week, purporting to be the ‘Grammys-of-the-Indie scene’ — is happening. I am most anticipating a set from Janelle Monáe , but not looking forward to the huge crowd.
8:25 p.m.: Enter the concert space — one of the hotel’s grand ballrooms — to a set from Hannah Georgas, a Toronto-based singer-songwriter. She’s softly singing to me that “we should all be lovers in the sun,” but between the crowd, the heat, and the corporate atmosphere, I’m not feeling too amorous.
8:30 p.m.: Bottles of Canadian are $8.50!
8:50 p.m.: Re-enter the concert space to find Sammy Hagar presenting an award. The presenters are an eclectic mix of Canadian celebrities and relative unknowns.
9:17 p.m.: Per an award announcer, the corporate room is at capacity and the Indies have “sold out.” While considering the irony of this ‘selling-out’ statement, I bump into a friend, and we both comment on how non-independent these ‘indies’ seem to be. A large recap of award winners is shown, and somewhere between Taylor Swift winning Best International Solo Artist of the Year, and Metric winning Best Live Act of the Year — the band hasn’t really toured since they released their last album in 2009 — I begin to question the relevance of these awards. If the artists celebrated are largely non-independent, and the nominations seem arbitrary, what’s the point?
9:22 p.m.: Hollerado, an Ottawa act who won the Best Video of the Year award earlier tonight, takes the stage. This band sounds like Weezer and Green Day’s egotistical baby. Nevertheless, it possesses the most energy of the night thus far, and the act works hard to engage them audience with sing-alongs, clap-alongs, and confetti canons.
10:03 p.m.: Janelle Monáe’s drummer just bumped into me. I want his outfit.
10:07 p.m.: Finally Shad takes the stage. He tears it up with a solid opening — he just won Best Urban Artist moments ago — and launches into his most popular track, ‘Rose Garden’. He follows this up with an inventive Kanye West homage by rapping over a Smokey Robinson groove, recognized to hip-hop fans as the sample from ‘Devil in a New Dress’ off of My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy. People go crazy.
11:15 p.m.: A tuxedo-clad man takes the stage, to a sound-collage evoking the frightening noises of a Hitchcock soundtrack. He promises that we are about to partake in an experience like no other, and challenges us to begin the adventure by following his chant of “Janelle!” with our “Monáe!” Through a dramatic monologue, she establishes the storyline of her latest concept album: an android from a future dystopian and oppressive society, she has traveled back in time — to our time — to preach the solution: we must dance, or die.
12:25 a.m.: I’m resting my feet in the lobby, trying to process what I just witnessed. That was one of the most incredible performances I’ve ever seen. Her performance blended electrifying stage presence, unbelievably talented musicianship, costumed theatrics, and a 15-minute encore that involved crowd surfing, sing-alongs, and a body of people screaming, singing, and passionately fulfilling Janelle’s earlier preaching — that we should loose ourselves in the music and dance. She is a passionate force, and the only artist tonight who successfully roused the subdued audience to move.—ALANA LEPRICH
Zoobombs
The Comfort Zone//Saturday, March 12
12:30 a.m.: I’m debating whether to head home — because, how can it get any better than that? — or to continue on to check out an old favorite, a Japanese funk band called Zoobombs.
1:05 a.m.: I’ve decided to soldier on, and have arrived at Comfort Zone with three close friends — including A&E Editor Emily Kellogg. It’s dim, it smells bad, and one friend comments that it is the creepiest bar she’s seen in a while.
1:10 a.m.: Zoobombs takes the stage, and immediately engages a small but impassioned crowd. The four-piece screams, sweats, and distorts its way through song after song, each one blending non-stop to the next. These guys work hard to please, and the frenzied and fast-paced dancing of the crowd echoes their efforts.
1:57 a.m.: To much chanting and screaming, Zoobombs returns to the stage to play a long and loud encore tune. People go nuts, and I’m so glad I came. —AL
No, but really, what is Canadian Music Week?
Alana Leprich
Glad you asked. Canadian Music Week is an annual music convention held in Toronto, featuring conferences, speakers, panel discussions, and awards. Its affiliate organization, the Canadian Music Fest, is a simultaneous festival-component, which presents over 800 bands in 60 venues throughout the city. The event is a focal point for music professionals and music fans to meet, consider, and enjoy music, and is in its eleventh year.
CMW isn’t another good-times music festival, like Lollapalooza or Coachella — it purports, in its summits, conferences and panel-discussions — to be something more. I’m not convinced. Without a clear mission, or identity, CMW is mainly confusing, inaccessible, and under-developed.
Though it’s a rare and rewarding opportunity to see a lot of bands in a short span of time, the purpose behind the event seems fragmented and underdeveloped. Canadian Music Week calls itself “one of the premier entertainment events in North America focusing on the business of music.” The statement goes on to outline what the convention has, but not what the convention actually does. Why the focus on business? What’s the point?
The online statement also establishes a distinction between itself and the Canadian Music Fest, the performance component of the convention, which showcases hundreds of live bands in dozens of venues throughout downtown. I am confused by the separation of the two organizations, which seem to work in tandem but have different branding, different websites, and different sponsors. There also seems to be a significant lack of Canadian-ness in the Canadian festival: Canadian bands are not highlighted or necessarily showcased, and instead, the choice of participating bands seems arbitrary and disjointed.
The festival’s shortcomings were embodied in its largest event, the Indies, an awards ceremony calling itself the “Grammys-of-the-indie-scene,” and a celebration of “the successes of indie artists — both from home and abroad.” I was surprised by the international component. All award categories but two focused on Canadian artists, and the international categories seemed rushed and ill-conceived, pitting a variety of contrasting and incomparable artists against one another.
I was also surprised by the blatantly non-independent nature of many nominees: I understand that the term “indie” within music has evolved to mean more than the signage-status of a band, but that being said, last night’s Indie award-winner Taylor Swift is by no stretch of the imagination an indie artist, nor were many other artists. Even stranger was the random assortment of nominees, where highly successful and established artists were pitted against emerging talents in the same category, or where incomparable artists of vastly-differing genres were placed within the same category. The award ceremony, with its strange nomination choices and illogical wins, leaves me with the notion that CMW is ill-planned, arbitrary, and therefore irrelevant.
After a week of shows vacillating from the amazing to the downright subpar — I’m left wondering: What is Canadian Music Week, and why does it exist? Who does this weeklong convention benefit, and what does it accomplish?
