Uli Jon Roth’s Ultimate Guitar Experience, March 19 at the Venue

Any show at the Venue is a tradeoff. It’s a useful space with decent sound. I like that they do early shows. I’m totally okay with clearing out at 10:30 to make way for the clubgoers. That’s great. The down side is being merely tolerated by the club staff, who on this night left me feeling like a degenerate for daring to breathe the same air as them.

Andy Timmons started the show with a rock/fusion/Americana blend that reminded me of Morse and the Dixie Dregs at time. He played with a rhythm section who also did duties for Uli’s set. There was a tastefully arranged Beatles medley in tribute to George Martin. He talked affably to the crowd between songs and went up in my estimation by not walking off the stage when some asshat yelled for “Freebird.”

Jennifer Batten played solo, accompanied by backing tracks on a laptop and a screen that showed old film clips and animation. Her set emphasized fun rather than raw chops. For example, she mashed up Weather Report’s “Teen Town” with “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” and ended her set with a medley of 50 years worth of guitar riffs, from the Ventures to Van Halen. Quite a party piece.

Uli Jon Roth left no doubt who the night’s real guitar hero was. His set was like Christmas, New Year’s Eve and my birthday all in one. He wasted no time delivering the heavy hitters—“The Sails of Charon” was the second song, followed by “We’ll Burn the Sky”, “Sun in My Hand” and “In Trance.” The band numbered seven people at times, with the singer (a huge Native American fellow who utterly ruled!) coming and going depending on the song. I can’t say Uli's Sky guitar, with its dog-whistle tones high up on the neck, is my favourite instrument, but it’s part of Uli’s whole deal, and he’s undeniably a wizard on the thing. It was a thrill to watch him work. To end the night, Timmons came out again for an all-Hendrix encore of “All Along the Watchtower” and “Little Wing.” When the set ended, having gone 15 minutes over curfew, the Venue started blasting the shittiest club music imaginable to hurry all us gross old people out the doors.

 

(Photo by Bob Logan)

The Musical Box, February 17 at the Commodore

I had a dream…I had a awesome dream…that I saw Genesis on the Selling England by the Pound tour.

Wait, that wasn’t a dream. That was last night at the Commodore. It might as well have been Genesis on stage. After seeing Quebec’s The Musical Box, I can’t really call them a tribute act. What they do goes beyond that. Their show is more like a historical re-enactment or (and this is the first and last time you’ll see this word in this blog) LARPing. It’s not “Hey, guys, you wanna get together and play some Genesis tunes?” it’s “Hey, guys, let’s BE Genesis.” The level of detail was astounding, from the lighting to the drum kit (I’d wager even the cymbals matched the specs on Collins’ early '70s setup) to the clothes (right down to the white denim overalls that “Phil” sported). An immense amount of research and devotion to this period of Genesis has obviously gone into this production.

Good thing I believed the advertised 8 PM start time, because although I didn’t get a floor seat—yes, there were rows of chairs on the dance floor—I did get a good spot to stand behind the last row. I was glad to not be the oldest old fart in the crowd for once. The place was packed with geezers, many of them sporting shirts from the last King Crimson show.

Musically, the performance was beyond criticism. I haven’t done my research, but I’m guessing this was the exact setlist from the Selling England by the Pound tour. Every nuance was captured; nothing was glossed over. Even Peter Gabriel’s between-song stories were recited word for surreal word. The material is part of my DNA by now, so there were no big surprises during the show, just little revelations here and there. For example, “The Battle of Epping Forest” really isn’t that great of a song. It earned the politest applause of the night. And I never knew that the whole last section of "The Cinema Show" was performed by just the core trio of Rutherford, Collins and Banks. This was actually the highlight of the night—a passage of pulverizing beauty. The crescendo moment was too much for one lady, who jumped up and ran up and down the aisle in an ecstatic frenzy. It was all I could do to not join her.

Overall, I rate this show 5 GIANT HOGWEEDS out of 5.

March into April

Achim Kaufmann/Jeff Younger/Dylan Van Der Schyff March 31 at Merge
Pianist Achim Kaufmann came to town for two sets of stormy improv at Merge. The music roiled and boiled as the trio pushed towards the limits of what was playable on their instruments. Younger grappled with his guitar and blew into its pickups. Kaufmann scraped cups and glasses along the piano's surface and crouched down to prod at the instrument's interior. Van Der Schyff used mallets, brushes and sticks to play the kit—I mean, literally the kit—the shells, the rims, even the threads on the lug nuts. He's a master, and was often the primary shaper of each piece as it unfurled. The direction and development of the improvisations was some of the best I'd heard in this particular genre/field/scene.

The Unsupervised, April 1 at The Emerald
The Emerald, tucked away on Gore Avenue in Chinatown, is a comfortable room with a decent beer selection. The Unsupervised are an excellent band whom I hadn't seen in quite a while. They look to be ramping up activity again with new material from bandleader Jeff Younger (him again) and a new bassist, James Meger. They got right up to speed with older numbers like "Inches" and "Strands" (from Elevator) leading into the new songs that they plan to record and release in 2016. The only bummer was the volume from the punk show going on next door, which was bleeding into the Emerald. While I enjoy "TV Party" as much as the next guy, it didn't mix well with the gig I was trying to listen to.

Magma, April 2 at The Venue
Jesus wept. This little band called Magma came to town. If you didn't see the show, I can't help you much. It was a normal gig in that I experienced (a) the ritual humiliation of trying and failing to get a t-shirt and (b) buying an overpriced can of good old Pilsner. Aside from all that, it was more like going to church than a rock show: a new kind of church where solemn, centuries-old European liturgical tradition crosses streams with the funkiest, most-inbred, taking-up-serpents, maniacal Christ-as-conjurer Deep-South God botherers. And then aliens arrive and tractor-beam the whole works into the mothership for some mind-melding and deep probing. It was kind of like that, but way better. It was rhythm, madness, skill, confusion, awe, joy, and just...holy shit.

Jeff Younger's Devil Loops Volume 2 CD Release, June 18, 2014 at the Orpheum Annex

 

Jeff Younger continues to push his Devil Loops project into new territories, and this event was the furthest he’s pushed it yet. In my reviews of his previous CDs, I’ve noted that the music itself is layered and detailed, alternately soothing and aggressive, and rewards close listening. Younger composes in the moment with guitar, amp, and effects pedals, but also with household objects (combs and nail files) and even a new set of gestures and ways of playing—breathing into the pickups, mashing the strings, or scraping the tremolo springs behind the guitar body. Avant-rock bands like Sonic Youth have been sticking screwdrivers through their strings for decades, but Younger takes these techniques in a completely different direction. Devil Loops on CD is a deep listening experience, its abstract nature also inviting interpretations from other artistic disciplines.

That multi-disciplinary potential was fully and wonderfully realized at the Devil Loops volume 2 CD release event at the Orpheum Annex. The Annex is a big room that’s quite a shift from the kinds of intimate venues that Younger often performs in, but it was perfectly suited to this event, which combined music, dance and visual art into a often-dazzling whole. Every performer brought the spirit of Devil Loops alive in all that project’s challenging, mischievous permutations.

The night started with a playback of several tracks from the album with video accompaniment by Flick Harrison, as well as a solo dance segment by Renee Sigouin to “Queen Bee.” Sigouin was joined by fellow dancers Elissa Hanson and Alexa Sloveig Mardon for “Roomies.” To finish the first half, Younger took his seat on the huge stage (the floor, to be precise) and embarked on the first live Devil Loops music of the event. After intermission, the action got more freewheeling and frenzied, with Younger joining forces with drummer Dylan Van Der Schyff, Chris Gestrin on piano and synthesizer, and JP Carter on trumpet and effects. As the various configurations of dancers and musicians worked together, the action was so involving, the attention required so demanding, that I sometimes wanted to laugh out loud at the brave abandon of it. (I apologize to any of the dancers who came near the front row and might have noticed my agitation—I was just getting caught up in it all.) Dylan Van Der Schyff is the most creative drummer I’ve even seen—for every “out there” technique that Younger used, Van Der Schyff had one of his own. For the show’s finale, every performer was out on the floor, including Flick Harrison, who was shooting live video from every perspective for simultaneous projection on the big backdrop screen.

To see this group of performers working so well together to manifest the whole Devil Loops ethos was a testament to Jeff’s curatorial skills. Although he was at the centre of a lot of the action, he remained a calm presence, presiding over the performances as a guiding spirit, letting the ensemble of diverse talents speak for itself—and they did him and his music proud. It was a night that left my head buzzing with inspiration and endless possibilities.

Vancouver International Jazz Festival, June 20–July 1

A friend of mine, a man of letters and excellent taste, has a saying: all the best porn is at the library. Along similar lines, I guess, is something that I myself have discovered: all the best prog is at the Jazz Fest. Most of it is available for free too, just like those volumes of literary smut at the library.

The main outdoor stages on opening weekend were down at Robson Square and the Art Gallery. I headed there on Sunday for what I called “Norwegian Power Trios on Rune Grammofone Day.” Bushman’s Revenge provided a great moment even before they’d struck a note, as a couple gentlemen, clearly up for some jazzy-jazz, caught sight of guitarist Even Helte Hermansen’s KISS hoodie and immediately bailed on the show. Once the band got going, they produced an intense, surging, psychedelic morass of sound; very much to my liking—they reminded me of My Brother the Wind or Guapo at times. It started to warm up in front of the Art Gallery, and the guitariist’s KISS hoodie came off, revealing a Sepultura Beneath the Remains t-shirt. Although they were the first band I’d seen, Bushman’s Revenge had already won the Jazz Fest, in my view. I went over afterwards and bought their Thou Shalt Boogie LP from their drummer, who kindly threw in a promo CD version so I’d had a digital copy as well.

Even more devastating were The Hedvig Mollestad Trio, who played the same stage a few hours later and joyfully whipped up a crowd of casual onlookers with a torrent of heavy riffs and, yes, blistering solos. Wearing a sparkly red minidress topped off with an Uli Jon Roth-style headband, Ms. Mollestad was all smiles as she wielded a volatile ES-335*. Bassist Ellen Brekken was equally cheerful, but make no mistake, this band was intent on rocking the place down with their Dixie Dregs-jamming-with-Electric Wizard brain-frying jazz fusion. They were the ideal blend of showmanship and musicianship, and I, just a mere loser, did not at all feel worthy approaching their merch table after their set. However, I managed to sputter out some thanks to Hedvig, hand her some money, and walk away with a copy of Enfant Terrible. It was the best of all possible Sundays.

Friday was my first and only ticketed show of the fest, with Pugs and Crows with Tony Wilson. The show was part of the late-night series at the Ironworks, a busy festival venue at the foot of Main Street. In the years since I reviewed their first album, Pugs and Crows have thrived, winning a Juno for their follow-up collection Fantastic Pictures. While last year’s Jazz Fest show at the Electric Owl was a scorcher, this one was a little more nuanced, suitably so given the seated venue and attentive audience. You couldn’t call what guest guitarist Tony Wilson does as “sitting in”—he knows the repertoire and contributes substantially to group’s sound, which is led by Cole Schmidt’s guitar and Meredith Bates’ violin. The rhythm section of Cat Toren (piano), Russell Scholberg (bass) and drummer Ben Brown has a delicate touch, but never plays purely a supporting role. Nobody in Pugs and Crows hogs the spotlight. There’s always so much going on onstage with this terrific band that it’s hard to know where to look.

Saturday I headed to Performance Works at Granville Island for the Lisa Cay Miller Trio (LCM, piano; Andre LaChance, bass; Dylan Van Der Schyff, drums). I found them tricky and inventive, with a fine ear for extended, somewhat sinister riffs. Miller started with a solo piece, featuring what looked like mason jar lids laid across the piano strings, producing a clattering, harpsichord-like effect. I would have liked to stay for all of their second set, but I had to get across False Creek to catch two more bands at the Roundhouse.

I crossed the water in style, on the Aquabus in the company of maniac axe-god Jeff Younger, bobbing through the mega-yacht maze towards Yaletown. I arrived in time to see 4 = 4, a newish band led by guitarist Tom Wherrett and featuring Meredith Bates of Pugs & Crows, drummer Mike Magnusson and James Meger on bass. Their material was spirited and tasteful (including a Yo La Tengo song), but to be honest I didn’t see enough of them to get a real handle on their style. I wish I’d taken some notes so I could describe their sound here in any sort of detail. Wherrett is a terrific guitarist, though, and anything he’s involved with is worth hearing.

During the break I walked around the festival grounds. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything happening on the rain-besieged big stage at David Lam Park. Instead I checked out the food trucks and met my friend Smash prior to heading back to the Roundhouse hall for Sick Boss. Led by Cole Schmidt, the six-piece played a marvellous first set, sounding what I can only describe as jazzy post rock along the lines of a less bombastic Do Make Say Think. Having an oboe and accordion in the band gives them some folky textures that they take in any number of exotic directions. Debra Jean Creelman came on to sing on one song (as she had with Pugs and Crows the night before) to devastating effect. Any time she’s in the house you know you’re going to be crushed. According to Smash, she came back for more in the second set, but I was done for the day.

So although I chose a small sample of acts this year, I think I chose well. Despite some panic when I first picked up the program and tried to plan what I could see, it turned out it wasn’t very hard at all. Many thanks to the organizers for selecting such fine bands and venues, and for making it all available for free, or at a reasonable price. I can’t wait till next year—maybe I’ll get to see one of those jazz bands where someone plays a saxophone.

 *My best guess.

Yes—March 20 at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre

I’ve been lucky enough to see most of the classic prog greats—Rush, Genesis, King Crimson, Jethro Tull, Van der Graaf Generator—but never Yes. When I was in high school they toured Western Canada for 90125, and while I liked that album, it sure wasn’t the Yes of the previous decade, and I snobbishly decided not to go.

I followed Yes casually for the next couple decades, occasionally checking in to little reward. The Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe album was a real bummer, and I couldn’t bring myself to touch that Union enterprise. By the latter half of the '90s there was a whole new progressive rock scene to get into and the Yes soap opera just seemed silly and irrelevant. I had Spock’s Beard, the revitalized IQ, and mail-order labels like The Laser’s Edge and Cuneiform Records to keep me busy, not to mention a burgeoning international metal scene that to me represented the true spirit of “progressive”.

But now I’m old and nostalgic, and it seems that the keepers of the Yes legacy are too. When I had the chance to go to their show last week at the Queen E (thanks to the loveable Luke Meat), I did indeed seize it. The lineup of Howe/Squire/White/Downes and newish vocalist Jon Davison looked respectable, and the show’s format of presenting three classic albums in their entirety guaranteed a solid setlist, albeit an predictable one. The three albums in question, The Yes Album, Close to the Edge, and Going for the One, contain five or six of my favourite songs of all time. I was looking forward to hearing them in a live setting.

“I saw Yes in 1974, and it cost five bucks! And you know who opened for them? THE EAGLES!” You always get these people at the old-time prog shows. I reckon I was the only person in the joint who hadn’t seen them on the Relayer tour. The lights went down at 7:30, quelling the babbling of aging nerds. Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite came on the PA; the band’s traditional walk-on music. This was just like the real thing. Hold on, it was the real thing. That gnome/hippy figure was Steve Howe, and there was Chris Squire with requisite Rickenbacker. Geoff Downes stood among three banks of keyboards. They started with "Close to the Edge" and played the rest of the album in order. It was all bang-on, especially Davison whose voice soared, note perfect all the way. Sure he wasn’t their original vocalist, but his performance was a marvellous tribute to Jon Anderson’s melodic talents.

The stage production was Spartan—nothing in the way of a “set” and minimal backline. A screen behind the drum kit presented animated Roger Dean vistas, rainbow-hued butterflies, mysterious figures in yogic poses, and other suitably-Yeslike imagery. As well, the screen introduced each song with a title card (e.g. “Siberian Khatru” Close to the Edge (1972)).

Going for the One was next, with Steve Howe kicking out the jams on pedal steel guitar. He had a good style of shoving the wheeled contraption off stage whenever he was done with it. A roadie would put it back in place when it was time for another go. Davison’s performance on “Turn of the Century” was a highlight of the GftO segment and earned him a standing ovation. “Parallels” sounded creaky in comparison; probably the only instance where I thought the band could have pounded out a song with more authority. For “Awaken” Howe put on an odd-looking headstock-less guitar. Not to be outdone, Squire emerged with a triple-neck bass/guitar contraption. Hope he has a good supply of Robaxacet for this tour! He’s not a poser, our Chris—he did indeed play on all three necks during the course of the song.

After a 20-minute intermission and some words from Howe praising Vancouver for its more European feel compared to America (“cosmopolitan” was the word he used), they embarked on The Yes Album (1971). They slayed it too, especially on Howe’s solo spot, “The Clap”. Seeing him in action live confirmed his status as a guitar god. After the musical jigsaw that is “Perpetual Change” they left the stage briefly before resuming with “Roundabout” for an encore. This started two folks dancing and going nuts in the aisle at the front of the stage. Maybe the song had been their first dance song at their wedding, in which case I wish I'd been invited to that wedding. They were allowed to boogie down until the first chorus, when they were beaten to a pulp by security and tossed out (kidding).

It really was a great night. The only downside was going home and facing the wrath of Mrs. Mule, who’ll probably never forgive me for not bringing her along. Now that this is published, I’ll never speak of this again.

NWOBHM Sandwich

After a steady stream of great shows all summer, October has seen a crazed torrent of gigs so far. This week I took a deep breath and hit up three shows in three nights.

Raven and Diamond Head, October 8 at the Rickshaw Theatre

Locals Titans Eve opened up with a set of decent melodic death/thrash. A few twin lead passages caught my ear. They kept their stage time short, politely making way for the mighty Raven. Featuring the original core of brothers John and Mark Gallagher and drummer Joe Hasselvander, they opened up with mission statement "Take Control" and proceeded to play a wildly entertaining set. John sang through a headset mic, enabling him to mix it up with his brother. They scurried around like mad things, forming in effect a two-man mosh pit on stage. Their energy put the crowd to shame, really. Those in the audience dug it, though, even if they were largely unfamiliar with the band's crowd participation set pieces. Raven closed their set with an extended "Break the Chain" which incorporated a medley featuring bits of Black Sabbath, Cheap Trick, Budgie, AC/DC, more Sabbath, The Who, and Humble Pie. I thought for a moment that they were going for their own version of Gordon Lightfoot Sings Every Song Ever Written, but then the "Break the Chain" chorus returned and we bade the three sweaty geezers goodnight.

Who'd want to follow that? Diamond Head were a good deal tidier but no less eager to please, entering to a recording of "Mars, the Bringer of War" and proceeding to pull out all the key cuts off Lightning to the Nations. Seeing original guitarist Brian Tatler rip into those legendary riffs was pretty satisfying. The guitars sounded great and the bass punched through in a pleasing way. The only worry was that they were breaking in a new vocalist Chas West (ex-Jason Bonham Band) who had to be summoned at the last minute because of a death in regular singer Nick Tart's family. But despite a few missed cues and a few verses sung while hunched over his lyric sheets on the ground, he did a great job, and his Coverdale-like voice worked well with the material. A few gigs into this tour, and he'll be nailing it. By the time they encored with "Helpless," they were raging, and so was the crowd—one poor girl had a hard fall on the Rickshaw concrete and had to be helped away.

Anciients, Scale the Summit and TesseracT, October 9 at Tom Lee Music Hall

First show of the tour for this trio of proggy acts of varying heaviness. After two kiddie metal acts who were absurdly irrelevant to my interests (tacked onto the bill as the last show of their own tour), Anciients came on and set things right with riffs, riffs, and more riffs. Opening with "Raise the Sun" into "Overthrone," it was clear they've become a tour-hardened machine. "Giants," "Faith and Oath," and "Built to Die"were all pounded home with groove and authority. The acoustics in the hall were very nice. Kenneth Paul Cook, their main singer, was clear and audible throughout. The intricate flow of every song reminded me of the fact that Heart of Oak is one of the best albums I've heard this year—it's high time I reviewed that magnificent thing.

Scale the Summit are the nerdliest of the nerdly and I love them. I don't know what music school they all went to, but it apparently had a two-semester course entitled "From Cynic to Gordian Knot: Studies in Advanced Jazz Metal". The instrumental four-piece combine talent and taste across compositions that never become too indulgent, although every second of what's happening on stage is jaw-dropping. I've been enjoying their new album The Migration for a couple months now, and live they reproduce its songs exactly. It's a damn impressive feat, but part of me wishes they'd take it a step further and devote a bit of time to improvisation. It wouldn't have to be a lot of time. Watching them build something out of nothing over, say, five minutes would be really cool.

TesseracT were the lesser act. I can see why people are into them, but that kind of syncopated low-string pounding non-riffing is the same kind of thing that has sent me walking out of Meshuggah shows in the past. I checked them out for three songs and then went for a beer on Granville with my buddy Smash.

Saxon, October 10 at The Venue

Now for the final course in the feast of NWOBHM that I started on Tuesday. I arrived at 9:30 and saw most of Fozzy's set, which was too bad. It's been almost exactly 30 years since I last saw Saxon. While I thought about this and my old guy status, Gerald the Rattlehead walked by sporting a "Saxon Euro Tour '81" satin jacket that I assure you was not a reproduction. Put things a little more in perspective, I guess. Saxon took the stage about 10:40 and played for nearly two hours, peppering tracks from their new album, Sacrifice, amongst unassailable classics like "Power and the Glory," "Dallas 1 PM" and, most righteous of all, "The Eagle Has Landed." They're a bit craggy, the Saxon guys, but they are unstoppable. I was especially impressed by Nigel Glockler, who must be one of the best drummers to come out of the NWOBHM. Dude had some chops. Biff Byford looked to be in an especially good mood (probably looking forward to flying home the next morning), accepting the gift of a Canadian flag augmented with a Saxon logo, draping it between two cymbal stands on the drum kit for all to see. On "Denim and Leather," he invited everyone from the opening bands on stage to sing along—there were at least a dozen of them up there. It was a damn fine way to celebrate the end of the tour, and a great end to my metal show triple-header this week.

April Gig Roundup

April brought a deluge of unmissable shows to town. There’s no way I could review them all in full, but here are some notes on what I saw last month.

Clutch with Orange Goblin, April 3 at the Commodore Ballroom

I honestly wasn’t that familiar with Orange Goblin, despite having read about them for years. They turned out to be a rowdy lot, riling up the crowd with their Motörhead-calibre attack. Clutch had it pretty easy after that. Vancouver sure loves them. They played a punchy set very much in the vein of Earth Rocker. That jam band they’d been transforming into was nowhere to be seen this night.

Black Wizard with War Baby and Astrakhan, April 5 at the Interurban Gallery

Two things I learned, or had confirmed, watching my buddy Kyle Harcott DJ this show. One, old records sound the best. The tone coming off that copy of Killer was amazing. Two, people will come up and high five you when you play Sabbath. All the bands were amazing at this show. Black Wizard are getting to be too big a band for the Interurban. Which is good; they should be huge. When they played “Jesus,” people went insane.




Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, April 6 at the Vogue Theatre

I finally got to see Nick Cave, and it was worth the wait. The band was flawless (and loud!) and the set list could not be quibbled with. What I did find interesting as a first-timer was that Cave played exclusively to the first three rows of people—those who were within his physical reach. Apart from acknowledging the balcony once or twice, he didn’t exactly bring the whole room together, or transform the theatre into an intimate space. Still, Nick Cave. Phwoar.

Yob, April 6 at the Interurban Gallery

After Nick Cave, I dashed across to the DTES in time to catch Yob’s entire set. I could not have a better life. Trying to describe Yob at the Interurban and do it justice would be impossible. If you know Yob, you know the deal—they really were crushing and transcendent. They played a big chunk of Atma and a sick, gilding-the-lily encore of “Quantum Mystic.” Mike Scheidt is one of the best guitarists I have ever seen. I’m glad I had almost two weeks to recover from that night.

La Chinga with No Sinner, Three Wolf Moon and Harma White, April 19 at the Rickshaw Theatre

This was La Chinga’s album release show (and what an album it is). No Sinner drew the biggest crowd. Three Wolf Moon are always a pleasure to see/hear. I just saw enough of Harma White to realize I was foolish for missing most of their set.

Subrosa with Eight Bells, Astrakhan and Dungeons, April 20 at the Astoria

The two local openers played on the Astoria floor. The consistently impressive Astrakhan are really pushing themselves with their epic songs. They’re reminding me of a certain other local band who’ve broken internationally this year. Portland trio Eight Bells made superb use of effects to enhance their alternately blackened and cosmic compositions. Guitarist Melynda Jackson looked so anxious up there, like it was all going to collapse at any moment; I was rooting for them. Subrosa were unexpectedly brutal in a live setting. With twin violins squalling away and guitar/bass/drums pounding with full force, it was a bulldozer of sound. This gig had an enjoyable “no-goofs” vibe. Ted was there, too, and he took some incredible pictures.

Absu with Auroch, Terrifier, and Xul, April 24 at the Biltmore Cabaret

Wow, Absu actually played the Biltmore. I caught most of Xul’s set and thought they were solid. Terrifier’s speed/thrash attack really impressed me. The always-deadly Auroch were a quartet for this gig, with Shawn from Mitochondrion on bass. The floor filled up for Absu, thus I could barely see them. I eventually found one spot where I could see Proscriptor at work, headset mic and all. Quite the masterclass.

Device with The Twitch, April 26 at the Princeton Pub

Device drummer Kyle Harcott might humbly scoff at his band’s inclusion on this list, but I was really looking forward to this show. Device represent an alternate universe where my own weekend band learns to play its own songs properly, gets a singer, and plays gigs. Good on them for getting out there and doing it. Their original material is way cool meat-and-potatoes metal (or bacon-and-eggs metal, if you prefer Metal For Breakfast), free from trends and “extreme” bollocks. And they encored with “Snowblind” and “Wrathchild.” What more could I want? A raucous yet relaxing way to end an action-packed, sleep-deprived month.

Scott Kelly and the Road Home at the Railway Club, March 9

This was initially going to be a solid night of pickin’ and grinnin’, until those magicians at Nothing Is Heavy took it over the top and announced that they’d added Scott Kelly (Neurosis and Shrinebuilder) about two weeks before the gig date. I’d just seen Neurosis in Seattle in January and now one of their main singer/songwriters was going to grace our humble, hallowed Railway Club? This would be too amazing to miss.

Mike Hodsall was up first. He took a fairly self-effacing approach in his song introductions, which he didn’t need to do. He mixed up some dark, involved instrumentals and original songs, and despite admitting to being nervous in this intimate setting, he delivered superbly. The instrumentals reminded me a bit of Six Organs of Admittance in their phrasing and overall feel. He ended the set with a cool, somewhat jazzy interpretation of "Black Sabbath," a good choice seeing as there were a lot of metalheads in the crowd.

By contrast, Johnny Wakeham was real easygoing on stage. His material was decidedly more country-oriented, complete with bouncing bass lines and songs about trucks, motorcycles, and being faithful to your woman. The tunes were uniformly terrific and performed with foot-pumping verve. He chose a cover for his last number as well, going with the Pointer Sisters’ “Slow Hand,” which fit in perfectly with the rest of the set—Conway Twitty also covered the song, so it's already got a country pedigree. Thanks for the earworm, Johnny—I had it in my head for the rest of the weekend.

T. Nile brought along a full band of fiddle, drums and bass, while she herself alternated between guitar and banjo. Did they ever sound good, hitting a perfect balance between instruments, every musician understanding when and when not to play. Compliments to the soundman as well. Not only was the overall sound in the room great, he took the time to make sure every act was happy with what they were hearing on stage. T. Nile’s from Galiano Island originally, and that upbringing might have something to do with the free spirit she brings to the whole thing. She had a varied batch of songs that she performed wonderfully, and her band was tight-tight-tight while still looking like they were having fun on stage. The bassist gets Difficult Music bonus points for his Rush shirt. The peak of good times on the night.

More banjo, please! Gordon Smith and Blake Bamford brought their guitar/banjo sitdown duo next. I didn’t realize it at the time, but they’re from the band Percheron, whose tape I mentioned in a previous post. They played a low-key, enjoyable set. It felt pretty intimate, like they were a couple buddies playing in your living room, telling stories about near-death experiences and other misadventures, rather than playing in a club getting more packed by the minute in anticipation of the headliner.

First off, it was strange to hear Scott Kelly talk on stage, because Neurosis aren’t too big on between-song banter, choosing to focus exclusively on crushing you to death with their music. Secondly, I hope he didn’t hear my friend and I chuckling when he asked if anybody had been at the Cruel Elephant in ’92 when Neurosis and Sleep played there. Having seen our share of shows at that short-lived venue back then, we were instantly imagining what went down, and it was little much to take. Like I need another regret in life, now I know that I missed Neurosis and Sleep at the Elephant in 1992. I’d have to ponder this later, though, because here I was at a Scott Kelly show with the man not two metres away, acoustic guitar in hand. Flanked by Noah Landis (Neurosis keyboardist, here playing electric guitar and a midi keyboard/laptop setup) and Greg Dale on acoustic guitar and the aforementioned keyboard, Kelly proved that he’s a master of heaviness no matter what format he’s working in. Give Kelly an acoustic guitar, and he doesn’t suddenly turn into some casual strummer—he’s still Scott Kelly. The songs were as weighty and solemn as Neurosis material, only without the deafening crescendos. Compared to the material on his first solo album, Spirit Bound Flesh (the only one I’m familiar with), the new songs were a bit more tuneful and nuanced…beautiful, in fact. He ended the set with “We Burn Through the Night,” which he dedicated to the family he’d be going home to as soon as the tour was done. I left the club feeling enriched and, above all, thankful, during my own trip home.

Please check out Ted Reckoning's excellent photo gallery from the night. Thanks, Ted!

A Difficult 2012—Concerts

Our still-awesome, still-improving local scene provided most of my live action in 2012. Local promoters Nothing Is Heavy arrived and immediately set new standards for killer bills comprising either the cream of local bands or combining touring and local acts. Not into forking out for arena shows anymore, I ended up in GM Place/Rogers Arena exactly twice: once for being an unwitting extra for a Metallica movie, and once for an amazing, unhinged night with Neil Young and Crazy Horse. All in all, I’d rather just go to the Rickshaw.

1. Heart, August 18, PNE
This concert was better than it had any right to be. I had low expectations. It was a free show on the opening day of the Pacific National Exhibition. We hemmed and hawed about getting a good vantage point, not willing to park in a spot for five hours like other fairgoers clearly were. We ended up a good distance away from the side of the stage, drummer out of sight, surrounded by complainy soccer moms, and reliant on jumbotrons to view all the action. But the joyful professionalism of Heart overcame all that. Maybe they were relieved to be in the cool Vancouver air—away from the oppressive heat south of the border—in their adopted hometown, but they did indeed “kick it out” and entertain with a verve I’d never have expected from a band pumping out all the old hits on the summer fair circuit. It was a bombardment of FM dial classics: “Magic Man,” a couple power ballads, album cuts like “Heartless,” a Zeppelin cover, and “Barracuda” in case your face wasn’t already melted. The Wilson sisters rule.

2. Neil Young and Crazy Horse, November 11, Rogers Arena
3. Dysrhythmia/Dog Shredder, October 26, Iron Road Studios
4. Accept, September 21, Rickshaw Theatre
5. Six Organs of Admittance, October 2, Waldorf
6. Napalm Death, November 9, Rickshaw Theatre
7. Anciients, March 23, Rickshaw Theatre
8. Black Wizard/Occult SS, etc., October 5, Rickshaw Theatre
9. Barn Owl, November 10, VIVO Media Arts Centre
10. Diecember Fest (night one with The Nautilus, Astrakhan, etc.) Dec. 6, Rickshaw Theatre
11. Darkroom Alchemy II (with Hoopsnake, Chapel), November 17, Interurban
12. Cormorant/Young Hunter, June 9, The Shakedown (Bellingham)
13. Shooting Guns, June 15, Pat’s Pub
14. Helms Alee/Thrones, April 1, Iron Road
15. Mares of Thrace/Anion/Weirding April 27, Funky’s

Gods of the Grave (Rickshaw Theatre), Dysrhythmia/Dog Shredder (Iron Road Studios), Oct. 26

This was one of those nights when I just had to go for it. I’d originally planned to attend just the Dysrhythmia show, but that show’s promoters, realizing that there were some competing gigs on East Hastings, moved the set times towards the wee hours.

I had a few hours to kill, so I decided to hit up the Rickshaw Theatre for Nothing Is Heavy’s Gods of the Grave event first. This was another of their local metal bonanzas featuring umpteen of the finest bands in the city. I arrived in time to see The Nautilus lay down a mind-bending set of spazzy, avant-garde metal. I need to keep an eye on this impressive trio; I’m sure they’ll be playing a lot. M16 were next, and had a more traditional thrash approach. This being my first exposure to them, I couldn’t quite figure out what they were going for. The riffs sounded more European than Bay Area. Did I detect a Coroner influence? Surely not. They were tight—with Mike Hannay from Anciients on drums, they couldn’t help but be—and talented players, so it’ll be interesting to hear how their sound develops. Every band was having problems with monitors and stage sound, but Auroch suffered the most of the bands I saw. They were ready to kill with their intricate and atmospheric death metal, but got a little out of sync during their first number, “From Forgotten Worlds.” They managed to cope, however, and the rest of their set decimated as intended. After a bunch of songs from their outstanding new album, they brought out a Mitochondrion dude on vocals for their final song, a wicked cover of Akercocke’s “Enraptured by Evil.” I had time for one more band, and that band was the mighty Galgamex. Hell, I’d make time for Galgamex if I had to. I defy you to find a more manic, punishing band than this East Van Death Metal (that’s what I’m guessing the EV/DM on their banner stands for) quartet. I’ve seen them three or four times now, and I honestly couldn’t tell you how any of their songs go; they’re just too much to take in. Total destruction.

By now it was closing in on 11:00, so I reluctantly turned my back on Archspire and headliners Tyrants Blood and caught a bus down Hastings to Iron Road Studios. There wasn’t much of a crowd there yet, but I’d say 30 or 40 people showed up at the evening’s peak. Hidden Towers were a nice discovery—tight, punchy prog rock played by a crack trio. They reminded me a little of A Ghost to Kill Again, who’ve unfortunately disappeared since I reviewed their debut album. Dog Shredder were just nuts. Since I last saw them at the Rickshaw, this Bellingham trio have become an improvising monster. They took a familiar song like “Battle Toads” and blew it up out of (nearly) all recognition. They also brought their own lighting “rig,” which consisted of two towers of super-bright work lights that illuminated the band from behind. I say this a lot, but I was happy that I was almost completely sober. Another beer and I would have toppled in the face of such sensory overload. After some long changeovers between bands, Dysrhythmia didn’t start playing until 1:35, but god, they were amazing. Compared to their set opening for Cynic a couple years ago, this experience was much more punk rock and personal. Watching them do what they do—i.e. shred their asses off—right up close in this little room was truly flabbergasting. The setlist stuck to the Test of Submission album as far as I could tell—they might even have played the whole thing in order. As the last band I’d see on this evening of ultra-intense music, they pushed beyond all the boundaries for 45 sweat-soaked minutes. It was an exhausting, exhilarating night.

Nylithia with Scythia and Terrifier at the Rickshaw Theatre, September 26

You really can’t go wrong with an all-local metal bill in Vancouver, such is the strength of the scene these days, and this show just reinforced that view. With folk metallers Scythia heading out on tour (including a stop at Calgary's NOCTIS Metal Fest tomorrow) and a new EP release to celebrate, they decided to hold court at the Rickshaw along with a couple of other killer local acts.

First up was Terrifier (formerly Skull Hammer), a new—to me—quartet who blew me away almost immediately with some tight thrash/death. Although the band most assuredly has no weak links, what stood out for me was that both guitarists could shred like crazy. They weren’t shy about it, either, as they freely traded solos during songs like “Scum Ridden Filth” and “Welcome to Camp Blood.” Polished yet absolutely devastating.

Scythia opted for the middle slot on the bill and played most of the material off their new For the Bear EP. Scythia are all about the gung-ho spirit—all galloping rhythms and reeling melodies. They’ve rejigged the band a bit lately, dropping the keyboards and toughening up their sound by adding Brian Langley (Tyrant’s Blood/Infernal Majesty) on second guitar. They apparently haven’t convinced him to put on a kilt yet, but he was well into the spirit of things. A Scythia show is typically a maelstrom of fun, and this gig was no exception. As if the costumes and oboe-festooned folk-metal tunes weren’t enough, they had Vancouver’s premier metal belly dancer, the beautiful (and brave) Mahafsoun Faroogh, join them on stage for “Voice of the Blade.” Fancy! All in all it was a memorable sendoff for a  tour that’ll see them travelling to Montreal and back, after which those stage getups are gonna need some serious Febrezin’.

Nylithia closed the show by giving us all a right good thrashing. They’ve developed into one of Vancouver’s deadliest acts. Again, there are no weak links in this quartet, and the energy and mayhem they produce is incredible. Guitarist Royce Costa is especially phenomenal. The guy is like five guitarists in one. As he fires off frantic, single-note riffs, alien Voivod funk grooves or crazy solos, he’s intensity personified. The fact that he’s got three bandmates who can keep up with him and keep it tight is just as impressive. Worthy headliners for sure, on this or any other night.

Metallica 3D Movie Shoot at Rogers Arena, August 27, 2012

Having lived in Hollywood North my whole life, it’s almost inevitable that I’ve worked a couple times as an extra on film and TV shoots around town. It’s almost like everyone's civic duty. As you’d imagine, these were long days mostly spent waiting around for a few two-minute bursts of action when the cameras rolled. The job was basically boring, but it made for an interesting day off from my regular job. The pay was OK, and I got fed, plus I might see myself on the teevee sometime.

Monday night’s Metallica event felt almost exactly like being on the set again, except on a much larger scale. Also, there was no catering truck, and we sure as hell wouldn’t be collecting a paycheque. The dynamic was exactly the same, however: brief outpourings of energy followed by long waits where we watched men wearing headsets run around and fuss with cameras.

The show was billed as a “3D Movie Shoot” and all tickets were 5 bucks. Proceeds went to the Vancouver Food Bank, which was a classy move on the band’s part. Metallica had already played two “real” shows on the weekend that were also filmed (read Kyle Harcott’s account here). This extra show presumably gave them a chance to shoot additional coverage and footage that wasn’t possible to get during the other shows. I was fully prepared for it to be a little unusual, and went in expecting to be at the mercy of the film crew. You know, maybe there’d be a camera occasionally blocking the view, or they might need to stop the show a few times to try a new setup or something.

We were there for four and a half hours. And I thought 1991’s “Evening with Metallica” Black Album show was a marathon. Pah, that went by in a blink of a gnat’s eyelash compared to this. Things got underway with the Assistant Director coming out, thanking us for coming and explaining there would be a lot of breaks in the action. He also asked us to keep our energy levels high—which sounded like a reasonable request at that point—and avoid looking at the cameras, which would be swooping around on booms and traversing the arena on wires.

The lights went down and the band came on and played “Creeping Death” and, wow, it felt just like a Metallica concert! My buddy on my left was snapping pictures like a madman, as he does. The beer-guzzling Australian guy on my right was yelling all the lyrics. Dennis from Sinned was whipping his hair around a couple rows down. It was a totally authentic concert experience for six minutes and thirty-six seconds. Who needs 3D movies; I'd gotten in to see Metallica for five bucks! The song ended and they started pounding out the intro to “For Whom the Bell Tolls” and then… intermission time! The band walked off to their respective offstage areas while the techs paced around dealing with their issues. A few minutes later, the band picked up with the second half of “Creeping Death” then played “For Whom…” all the way through.

And so it went—lights out, a song, then lights up and another long break. Sometimes it was only half a song. They played the first half of “Sad But True” and the last bit of “Nothing Else Matters.” They played “Fuel” and “One” twice. During the audience participation parts, the PA was turned way down so they could get a good recording of the crowd to add to the final sound mix, I assume. As a once-estranged member of the Metallica family, I tried to be a good extra. When I gave up on Metallica after Load, I never imagined that I’d one day find myself warbling along with the Marianne Faithfull part from “The Memory Remains.” But there I was, trying to keep up with my Aussie pal with my out-of-tune “La-da-da-das.”

When they were playing, they were the Metallica we know and (sometimes) love, racing through a pretty decent setlist. Three songs from Ride the Lightning made the cut, along with a couple each from Master and Justice. Between songs the band teased us with bits of “The Call of Ktulu,” “Symptom of the Universe,” and “Oh Well”, but they didn’t give us any full bonus tracks. Everyone in the band is playing well these days. Hetfield’s right hand is lethal as ever. Lars Ulrich looks like he’s playing fast and loose, throwing in new fills and often generally being on the verge of getting crossed up, but he always kept it together.

The songs were good, the band was good. The biggest obstacle to enjoying the event was that it didn’t flow like a concert; there was no build up to anything—so much so that when the band did “Enter Sandman” and the show’s climactic set piece went off, our reaction was more "Wha—?" than "Whoa!" Was the staging really supposed to fall apart like that? Are people actually hurt? After the few hours that had passed and all the distracting technical issues we’d already observed—mics malfunctioning, cameras being dismantled, etc.—the fact that we’d reached the end of the “concert” took a while to register.

By the time they’d wrapped up their Garage Days encore of “Seek & Destroy,” featuring an absurd “Metal Up Your Ass” toilet prop, a good third to half the crowd had left. Some members of the Metallica family obviously had an early bedtime. Those of us who stuck around saw additional takes of the show’s two biggest production numbers. “Fuel” was punctuated by huge fireballs erupting from the stage floor, and “One” started with an elaborate battle sequence made up of explosions, simulated tracer bullets, and more fireballs. With those songs filmed in their 3D glory once again, the AD and each member of the band thanked us for being there, and we were set loose. That was a wrap.

I steered clear of the Stadium SkyTrain station and walked over to Main Street where I could catch a bus home. I felt dead on my feet, famished and weary, thinking I’d never need to listen to Metallica for another 20 years. Right then, a car pulled up blasting “Sad But True.” Fuckin’ A, dudes. You win. I’ll see you at the theatre when the Metallica movie comes out.

(Photos by Ian McClelland. Thanks, JR!)

Black Wizard, with Tobeatic, Weirding, The Rock Band Called Time, and WTCHDR at the Rickshaw Theater, June 30, 2012

As if playing in a ruling band wasn’t enough, Chris Dyck of Ancients (along with Sab Kay Design) has created Nothing Is Heavy to book and promote gigs around town. The first Nothing Is Heavy event went down last Saturday night, and the amazing lineup of local talent made for a storming show. Everything was heavy!

WTCHDR are turning into a tight, powerful unit. Forget about easing us into an evening dominated by somewhat more laid-back bands—WTCHDR gave us the full shock treatment. Their style incorporates a variety of tempos, from crawling sludge to pummelling grind. Most songs were brief explosions of chaos and anguish (their vocalist sounds like he has a lot on his mind), underpinned by two guitars downtuned to the key of Hell and some really impressive drumming. We had achieved liftoff.

The Rock Band Called Time not only have the coolest name ever, but they’re the sort of band that’s not afraid to rhyme “lose control” with “rock and roll”. They were just pure power-trio sweetness. Needless to say, I was on board from the first chord they struck. Playing such a classic style might look simple, but it’s not easy to pull off, especially in a trio format. Every note and every beat needs to stand on its own, or the whole enterprise falls apart. As the lead vocalist/lead guitarist, Braden is the most assured and accomplished performer, and clearly the musical force behind the band, but the rhythm section holds it together. Their drummer was playing on Weirding’s kit, which appeared to take him a song or two to get used to, but the whole band was quickly up and grooving. Their material was bang-on as well, nailing that no-nonsense ’70s style. You like Lizzy? Quo? Rory Gallagher? Maybe some newer retro-rock, like Firebird or Graveyard? Then you need to check these guys out.

Time for a power trio of a different stripe, shifting gears from speedin’ along the Freedom Rock highway to sinking into the tarpit of terror. Stoner/doom lords WEIRDING are all about power chords, amplifier worship, and relentless distortion curdling the air. While WEIRDING are a fantastic live band with a raft of memorable songs, their whole approach is also a testament to the simple joys of turning it up really fucking loud, slamming the pick hand down and going BRRRUUUUUUNNNGGG! I bet if you stood stock still in the theatre you’d vibrate clear across the floor. From the triumphant thud of opener “Bastard” (already a classic track in my mind) to the lurching horror of “As a Crown,” to the final feedback flourish, this was a brilliant set mostly drawn from their debut full-length, Each Birth Is a New Disaster, newly pressed on vinyl and available at the show. WEIRDING really have it together, lineup-wise. Each dude’s talents is well matched to the others, they all throw themselves into it, and I can’t imagine it being the same band should one of them leave. Guitar, bass, drums—they all crush.

During the changeover I could see that we were in for another change of pace with Tobeatic. There were now six musicians on stage, including up to three guitarists and a keyboardist with a bunch of effects boxes at hand. This could get interesting. But I wasn’t prepared for the total onslaught of the band in full flight. Tobeatic were like a gruesome collision between Uriah Heep and Motörhead, creating a glorious, riff-crazed racket that pushed beyond psych-rock territory into a truly dangerous realm. The now-packed room picked up on the vibe as well—people were starting to go off. The band's momentum was enough to shake off a kick-pedal disaster late in the set, get rolling again and power through to the end. Afther their deranged headrush of a set, I can't wait to catch them again. I'm still trying to process what I saw.

Failure notice: Sorry, but I bailed early and missed Black Wizard. My travelling companion, not used to such stacked bills, reached his saturation point after Tobeatic, and I kinda felt the same. But now I feel like kicking myself in the head for having missed them, based on the visual evidence in this Aaron Davidson photo gallery. Anyway, I paid the cover, bought merch—just trying to do my bit.

Live Action, Spring 2012

The gig-going year got off to slow start, but things picked up after the Ancients extravaganza in March. Some interesting and impressive tours have come through town lately…and also Van Halen. Here’s a quick rundown of some shows I attended this spring. I didn’t take any notes at these gigs; I’m working from memory, so details and insight are pretty sketchy. I just wanted to get these down for the record.

April 1: Helms Alee, Thrones, Anion, Dead Terror at Iron Road Studios

Finding Iron Road Studios was a challenge. I followed my usual strategy of discreetly tailing a likely looking pair of rockers off the Hastings bus and down some desolate East Van alleyways till I reached the venue, which doubles as a rehearsal studio. Once I was inside I still had a hard time finding the exact room where the gig was happening. I could hear bands playing behind every door! After doing a complete lap of the place, I found the makeshift bar and merch tables, along with the main room itself. I missed Dead Terror but arrived as Anion were setting up. I’ve seen this band so often lately that I’ve run out of things to say about them. They were loud and intense as usual. Thrones consisted of Joe Preston, his bass, drum machine, and a cluster of very large amps and cabs. Although he played a bass, he doesn’t play bass, if you know what I mean. His music was droney, sludgy, at times ethereal with his pitch-shifted vocals floating overtop. For me, the highlight of his set was a cool interpretation of Amon Duul II’s “Deutsch Népal.” Seattle trio Helms Alee played a sweaty, powerful set of art-skewed heaviness. Tremendous.

April 27: Mares of Thrace, Anion, Weirding, WCHDTR at Funky Winkerbeans

WTCHDR (that’s “Witchdoctor” to you and me) are a newish outfit featuring a couple Burning Ghats. They had the heavy, grindy mayhem down pat; it was just hard to discern what their particular angle on it was. Maybe I’ll figure it out next time I see them. I last saw Weirding at their disastrous DIEcember Fest appearance, where amp problems kiboshed their set halfway through their first number. It looked like the curse had followed them to Funky’s fortress-like stage when their guitarist broke a string before playing a single note in anger. They recovered nicely though and played a great set. Apparently there is Weirding vinyl on the way, so you need to get your mitts on that when it arrives. Anion were up next, rocking up a cake-fueled frenzy on frontman Johnny Matter’s birthday. Mares of Thrace had a troublesome sound-check—half of Thérèse Lanz’s amp setup wasn’t working properly—followed by a couple awkward/comedic minutes waiting for the “all-clear” from the sound guy to start their set. The amp problems continued, but the duo didn’t let any technical issues slow them down. MoT’s chemistry on stage is a joy to observe. You don’t often see bands of their ilk smiling amidst the din they create, but there are moments when the veil of ferocity lifts and they exchange a quick grin for some reason—whether at a little mistake (I didn’t hear any), some in-joke related to the song they're performing, or simply from the fun of playing the music in the moment. The crowd at Funky’s adored them, and demanded (and received) an encore.

April 28: Antediluvian, Mitochondrion, Auroch, Radioactive Vomit at The Rickshaw

Radioactive Vomit kicked off this night of 100-proof, Ten Fucking Skulls Death Metal encased in leather and spikes, hoods and masks. Auroch were a touch classier but no less brutal, delivering some impressive black/death metal as a bass-less trio. I’ve been looking forward to seeing Mitochondrion for a long time, and I wasn’t disappointed. Their presentation was imposing, stoic, and unique, with the drummer’s interesting half-acoustic/half-electronic setup. A trio of twisted minds working as one, they summoned a whirlwind of gruesome sound. Antediluvian had their own unified look, clad in tunics draped with bones, but appeared to struggle to get their sound across. The Rickshaw PA wasn’t helping much either. Although I admit not being very familiar with the band’s material, what I was hearing didn’t give me much to take away, save for a few quieter, atmospheric passages. Despite the sonic deficiencies, the crowd was thrilled to be witnessing the spectacle.

May 1: Opeth, Mastodon, Ghost at The Orpheum

The Heritage Hunter Tour proved to be a tidy, efficient package, custom tailored to give the people what they wanted. Pity the unfortunate Mrs. Mule, who missed Ghost while SkyTraining to the venue after work. Stupid early shows with 7:00 start times. There are no surprises anymore in this YouTube era, so Ghost delivered what I expected. The quintet of nameless ghouls was polished and professional during this recital of Opus Eponymous, save for a track or two (they left out “Stand by Him,” my personal favourite). Judging by the number of people sporting Ghost merch before their set, the Swedes had made a lot of fans already, and gained a lot more afterwards. Mastodon are a great live band, no question, but they’re all business, blowing through their set—most of The Hunter, with at least one song each from Crack the Skye, Blood Mountain, and Leviathan—like a well-tuned machine. From my vantage point, Troy Sanders looked like the only member working to engage the crowd. There was no banter, just some impeccable music. After the last song (I think “Blood and Thunder” ended the set) Brann Dailor thanked the crowd and they were outta there. It was a weird vibe at The Commodore the last time Opeth played here, with the tough-guy grumbling getting louder as the band played through their exclusively mellow set list. The Orpheum crowd was more relaxed, taking the Heritage material in stride and rejoicing in heavier tracks like “Demon of the Fall” and “The Grand Conjuration” tossed at us later in the set. While death metal vocals aren’t Mikael Åkerfeldt’s forte anymore, banter still is. He namechecked Rush and April Wine, teased the crowd about Sweden’s hockey superiority, and mentioned that they had shot the video for “Burden” just down the street at the Vogue Theatre. Putting the band in a plush, all-ages venue more suited to their current musical direction was a good move. It was a satisfying, if not exactly revelatory, evening out.