This show was a different kind of experience for me. Most of the shows I’ve been to have been in “clubs” and this one…was in…THE ZOO. I will get into the ranting after the actual review of Tegan and Sara’s set …IN THE ZOO…
Tegan & Sara – They performed a good selection of songs, even including a mix of their “old Calgary sound.” By old Calgary sound I refer to a time when they merely played acoustic songs (busker-ish) and were celebrated on Much Music’s older version of “Going Coastal” (Much West?…I can’t remember, it’s been a while). I never cared for them, but I did celebrate the point that they made their home in Calgary (Calgarians: often hated by other cities in Canada for acting in a superior nature when comparing themselves to the rest of Canada). Back to the subject, I enjoy their music now and appreciate their further introduction of an “alternative” to the typical 4 (straight) man band.
Unlike their “supporting act” the stage banter that accompanied almost every song was witty and served as an actual introduction to the following song. To paraphrase: “I’m proud to be like our mom, a socialist humanitarian social worker, but one of us had to be like our dad. Sara, is uncomfortable with discussing her feelings, leaves me, …(I forget).” (It was funny at the time, trust me…I was there)
As I mentioned before I don’t have a long history of being a fan of the band, with that being said I was happy to hear a god mixture of the songs I’m familiar with from their latest release “So Jealous.”
(Please stop reading if you’ve come for the review of the set, though it wasn’t much of a review…what I’m really concerned with is, how you say…ah yes…THE RANT)
I have tried to get used to the fact that I’m #1 – not cool #2 – not young enough to fit in with the young hipsters #3 – not old to fit in with the 30 somethings who are still “on the edge…for their age.” Waiting for the gate to open before the show I felt an unbearable emotion, almost a sickening bitterness with a hint of shame. I was surrounded everywhere by emo. Emo-yuppies with their weekend faux hawks. Emo-kiddies with their sh__ty $40 haircuts and Green Day buttons on their wish-it-was-a-thrift-store bag/purses. Emo here, emo there emo, emo everywhere.
During the slow walk behind his posse to the gate I overheard him talking about how (exact quote) “Davey Havoc needs to update his look.” Normally, I wouldn’t think twice. I was, however wearing my AFI shirt which I purchased almost three years ago. My emotions at this point in time? Well, I don’t know. Here’s this douche bag who’s the indie equivalent to gutter punk talking smack about someone who he only knows of through MTV and Alternative Press. Either he was as ingn’nt as he was a douche bag, or he was making a weak personal attack, on me.
There was this dude…security guard. He had this gut that was absolutely brilliant. Normal guts, have fat. Lots of fat. Hanging droopy “sweet crap I’ve let myself go” fat. This gut did not. It went straight out, straight down, and back to the body. No hanging fat, no fat at all. One large rock of a gut. Imagine if you put a keg in your shirt. Now, instead of “you” imagine a bald 50 year old security guard. Nice.
Communiqùe. No no no, this isn’t some fruity frenchie bisque. This is a band. They are bad. This is my opinion, and the opinion of the audience. THE audience, who was 1. not expecting to see them play, and were already pissed that the show started a half hour late…then more sitting through their mediocre rock crrrrrr(roll the tongue)rrrrrrrrrrap. Boring. But…
Their rhythm guitarist had his own world, he lived in it all alone, and in his world no one walked anywhere. Nor did they stand still. They thrashed and white-boy-James-Brown-ed everywhere they went. Imagine a spastic guitarist (similar to the lead singer from the Mars Volta, but on crack…and white) and imagine him sucking. He was a fine vocalist (back-up) and a fine guitar player. But he sucked. To you sir, tone the act down. I can only imagine what he was thinking:
“Oh man, I’m rockin’ their lily white faces off. Can you feel this heat Apple Valley, Minnesota (lay some Sebastian Bach-ish type DAP on that last shout out)…or wherever we are. I should be on broadway with this kind of s__t. Ouch, step back, huh, got touch myself. Hey Minnesota, can you see your face in the mirror? S__t no son, cause I rocked it offffffff!!!” I’ve lost my damn mind. But the last clear thought I had…Communiqùe funkin blows.
[This post was first published by Culture Bully.]