Review: Best Coast – Lee's Palace, Toronto, 25/09/10

"I guess you all read on Twitter that I'm really sick".

Not the first thing you particularly wanna hear when a singer steps up to the mic, but that's how Bethany Cosentino said hello when her band, Best Coast, took to the stage at Lee's Palace in Toronto.

I was already in a shit mood by this point after watching London's Male Bonding blast through their set with a sound mix that sounded like dog shit. I hadn't heard much Male Bonding before, but considering the fuzzed out/fucked up nature of their sound I'm really surprised they're signed to the reinvented dream noise label Sub Pop.

Despite said technical difficulties, their high-energy performance was enough to scavenge some morsels of respect from the crowd and even had a few kids forking out at the merch table post gig.
















A short interval later the girls (and boy) of everyone's favourite summer/Garfield-loving band took the stage and Bob Bruno strapped on a dirty cool Dan Electro baritone guitar, while Cosentino draped a mind-blowingly sexy sea foam green Fender Mustang around her neck.

And despite her early warning that the show might sound like crap, her beautiful voice reverberated through the room with same power and resonance as it does on the band's debut record album Crazy for You.




















She powered through awesome tracks like The End, Boyfriend, Summer Mood and When I'm With You, at times appearing visibly ill, but maintaining her composure and delivering her vocals with amazing clarity.

In stark contrast to Male Bonding the mix for Best Coast was phenomenal, and the occasional additions of chorus and echo to Cosentino's mic added greatly to the performance.
















One of the highlights of the gig was when Bob Bruno, known for being a bit of a mute, grabbed the mic briefly to thank the crowd for it's love and support, comparing Toronto only to the band's hometown of LA in their favourite places to play. Even Cosentino was shocked at his sudden outburst of gratitude, "What the fuck Bob?!"

By the end of the set, Bethany look exhausted but content, much like the rest of the crowd. If this is what Best Coast sound like when they're sick, I can't fuckin' wait to see what they sound like when their in a happy, healthy mood.

Photos by Rosie Ferguson.

Words by Rav

Originally published on Polaroids Of Androids

Live Review: The Decemberists, The Virgin Mobile Metro Theatre 19/01/2010

I rocked up to The Decemberists' Virgin Mobile (shudder) Metro gig, just in time to catch the end of Bridezilla's support slot. They seemed to have the audience in rapture with tracks from their tops new record, The First Dance. I caught a sweet soundingHeart You Hold, before they awkwardly maneuvered from the stage.

Thirty minutes and $13 for two cans of VB (FARK!) later, The Decemberists made their way on stage, lead by a bearded Colin Meloy. Now, I wasn't the biggest fan of their 2009 album, Hazards Of Love, and was a bit apprehensive that their Virgin Mobile (shudder) Metro gig's set list would be dominated by it. But to my surprise the band opened with the two opening tracks from their phenomenal 2006 album, The Crane Wife - The Crane Wife 3 and The Island: Come And See, The Landlord's Daughter, You'll Not Feel the Drowning.

For the rest of the night, the band waltzed their way through a 'best of' set list that featured tracks from The Crane Wife and 2005's Picaresque. In fact the only song they busted out from Hazards Of Love was a ball tearing rendition of The Rake's Song, clearly the standout piece of the night.

However, the most intriguing element of the evening was the sheer list of instruments the band went through, including:

• a lute
• an acoustic guitar
• a 12 string acoustic
• a hurdy gerdy
• a banjo
• a mandolin
• 2 keyboards
• 4 electric guitars
• a 12 string electric guitar
• a piano accordion
• 2 xylophones
• a melodica
• drums
• 2 extra floor toms (apparently everyone's fucking doing it these days)
• a bass
• a double bass
• a tambourine
• shakers

I have to say though, changing electric guitars two or three times during a song is fucking excessive. Jog on guys.

Despite this wankiness, Colin Meloy kept the audience of indie kids, Josh Pyke fans and dudes that had been dragged there by their hippy girlfriends happy with jokes and witty banter.

To finish off the night, the band played a polite, but unrehearsed rendition of the Go Betweens' Bye, Bye Pride, before sending us onto the streets of ol' Sydney town with a singalong of Sons And Daughters.

All in all it had been a fun night. But seriously... $13. Fuck off.

Originally published in Polaroids Of Androids

Live Review: Arcade Fire – Danforth Music Hall, Toronto, Canada. Saturday 12th June 2010

How I ended up at this gig was a simple matter of poor hygiene.

You see, the previous day I’d run out of clean clothes and had only decided to wear my Arcade Fire T-shirt from their 2008 world tour because it stank the least of all my garments. I loaded my trusty torn laundry bag with the more soiled pieces of my day-to-day ensemble and headed to the local Splish Splash Laundromat to scrub my socks, shirts and shorts with suds and soap.

“You know the Arcade Fire are playing a secret show tonight?” said a guy at the Laundromat, who looked remarkably like the lead singer from Mumford And Sons.

“Fuck off?” I replied in disbelief.

“Seriously. Danforth Music Hall. Tickets went on sale at 12pm, less than $40 bucks or something…”

I looked at my watch. 3.50pm! I grabbed my gear out of the wash – still wet – and took off for the nearest subway station. 20 minutes later and a couple of stink-eyes from train passengers displeased with the stench wafting from the sack beside me, I arrived at my destination. Sprinting out through the turn styles I thought, “There’s no way on Earth there are any tickets left. The Danforth only holds like 1200. This is the Arcade Fucking Fire!” Alas, I turned the corner and there was no longer a queue. I’d missed my chance…

“Fuck it, I’ve come this far,” I thought. “I’ll go see if there are any scalpers.” Low and behold as I approached the ticket booth, it was still open.

“Are there any tickets left for the show tonight?!”

“Sure, that’ll be $37.95.”

OMFG!!!

A few hours later, clothes smelling of daffodils and lemon drops and with an excitement level cranked to 11, I was eagerly awaiting entrance to the gig with a 1,000 or so of my fellow AF devotees, our wrists slightly uncomfortable from the tight, fluro pink plastic bands we’d been issued to gain entrance. Finally the doors swung open and we gradually flowed in. I ran straight past the merch/beer booth and headed for the theatre’s gizzard. The Danforth, after all, is a seating only venue and I had to secure a good spot. I found my self a comfy place 10 or so roes back, slightly to stage right. It was only 7.15pm and the band weren’t due to take the stage until 8.35pm, but you could be damned if you thought I was gonna give up a quality spot just to waste my hard earner $$$ on overpriced/shitty beer.

8.33pm. Everyone’s looking at their watches.

8.34pm. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!

8.35pm. The lights go down.

FARK! Everyone’s run out of their seats to the front. Stuff it, I’ve still got a great spot. The roar is deafening as the band take to the stage. I remembered the crowd reaction being equally off-the-chain when AF played the Enmore in 2008 with Spoon supporting (aka The Greatest Gig Ever). They are a musical outfit that command an enormous amount of respect worldwide and have a huge following of passionate supporters.

But how would the new tunes go down. I was one of many that were surprised by the slightly lackluster sound of the two singles they’d released from their forthcoming record, The Suburbs. The title track a gentle, alt-country-esque ballad that pleasantly tinkered along, while ‘Month Of May’ was a more rocking, heavy hitter of a tune. Neither, however, were the grandiose sonic ventures we’ve come to expect from the Arcade Fire. Plus, their paired release was confusing – which angle would the new record follow?

Straight off the bat, the band burst into ‘Month Of May.’ Holy fuck. They certainly haven’t lost any of their energy or intensity live. Win Butler commands the stage, all six feet a million of him, strangling his guitar’s wretched neck and singing with gusto and force; Richard Reed Parry, the world’s most successful musical ginger since Mick Hucknell, shreds guitar strings while screaming into a mounted megaphone; Regine Chassagne, the cutest button in indie rock, pounds the drum skins with fists of fury; meanwhile the rest of the band feverishly bang, strum and scream, resulting in a wall of noise that electrifies the hairs on ones neck. This is the Arcade Fire at their most punk rock. ‘Month Of May’ kind've rules.

This is followed by 'Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)', the first song from their first record (and my personal fave). The crowd collectively lose their shit. This is the song that many people identify with as their first experience of the Arcade Fire – track one, side one of their debut album. It has a townhouse in the heart of many an AF fan, as we imagine Win and Regine tunneling with their bare hands through the snow towards each other’s warmth and love. Or something. At number three on the set list is ‘City With No Children,’ another new offering. The whole band is in full swing. Guitar chords forcefully strummed, piano keys bashed in unison, the strings filling the air with honey and the band and audience clap as one as Win sings of his childhood growing up in the suburbs just outside of Houston. A future classic.

‘Rococo,’ without a doubt the AF’s strangest song title, is next in line. But it’s the uniqueness of this word and it’s dominant role in the chorus, “Rococo, rococo, rococo!” that has the entire audience singing along by the time the second chorus rides by. ‘No Cars Go’ is only one of two Neon Bible tracks the band will play in the entire set. No-one is sure if this will be a trend that will continue for the remainder of the tour, as whispers suggest they played a similarly limited amount of tracks from their sophomore record at the previous night’s show. ‘No Cars Go’ however - and its partner in crime a few songs later ‘Intervention’ - are enough tidbits from Neon Bibleto keep crowd sing-along participation at a fever pitch level throughout the night.

But before we get to ‘Intervention’ the band busts out ‘Haiti,’ not one of the more celebrated tracks from Funeral, but a song that has developed its own identity as a powerhouse live. Regine’s dainty, leather gloved hands seize the reins from her husband’s grasp as she pulls the AF juggernaut in a direction that gets the whole crowd jumping up and down in ecstasy. Full on party-time.

Next is the only awkward moment of the night, ‘The Suburbs.’ As a song itself, it’s quite nice, but it doesn’t really grab the audience in the same way as the rest of the set has done. The band looks uncomfortable playing it, like they’re still sorting out the kinks in its presentation. In time perhaps it will find its own identity and confidence, but for now it’s the only forgettable part of the performance. Follower, ‘Suburban War’, is the polar opposite. This is without a doubt the best fucking new song I have ever heard a band play. I was actually repeatedly saying “Holy fuck, holy fuck!” the whole way through it.

There is nothing left to say about ‘Wake Up', it is just incredible. Folklore. ‘We Used To Wait’ was the song that convinced me that if I didn’t pre-order The Suburbs I was nuts, another instant classic off an album that is sure to garner the same response as its predecessors. I desperately want to hear it again and again and again.

The main set is closed out by a one two punch of ‘Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)’ and another newie ‘Ready To Start’; the former being introduced by Win with a simple “One, two, three, four,” before an explosion of noise. It challenges ‘Wake Up’ as their best live song. But it's when the final notes of ‘Ready To Start’ ring out, that the decibel levels really reach their peak. The collective cheer and applause from the audience is phenomenal. It’s one thing to see the Arcade Fire in front of a room full of adoring fans. It’s another thing entirely to see them play to a room full of adoring fans that are also their fellow countrymen.

For two full minutes the applause rings on, until the inevitable ‘slow clap’ began to echo through the room and the band take heed and dance back on to the stage. For the encore we get something old and something new. ‘Modern Man’ is yet again another new song so accessible that you feel like you knew every word, every melody change, every chord progression. Finally, with beaming smiles the band breaks into ‘Rebellion.’ They can hide their exuberance no longer. They know they’ve got another hit on their hands and the victory lap is well under way before the starter pistol has even been fired.

As the lights go down we pound our palms into bloody pulps and cheer until our vocal chords are shredded. It's only the house lights that save us. And in the warm light of the theatre as everyone wipes away tears and collects their things, we know we have seen something truly special.

I now have two Arcade Fire T-shirts, just in case.

Originally published in The Vine