The Fox Cabaret was set to host Gus Dapperton, Up and coming Groove Rocker from Warwick, New York. Gus reached e-fame, as so many young talented artists are doing, from his devastatingly catchy singles “Moodna, Once With Grace”, and “I’m Just Snacking” from his first EP release of the latter’s name. Self-produced and sultry, Gus is also known for his fashionably hip donning of the bowlcut, dyed green with an ambitiously elevated hairline, as well has his crisp perfect generation-Z stylishness.
The Fox is a venue which sets the mood for many, as the name suggests, cabaret-ish acts, with high ceilings, a jutting stage and disco ball strung from the ceiling. It really is the perfect place to host the show, with Gus’ nostalgic-yet-modern take on sexy groove rock.
Gus bounces on stage and begins by introducing his bandmates, including his sister playing the keyboard, all of whom he proclaims are six foot five inches tall when they aren’t. Thus, a fun air of whimsicality introduces the set which Gus continues in between and throughout. The crowd’s excitement is palpable.
When the songs begin it takes you to as if it were a serenade, forcing you, the room, to move, as if it were all, the world, the sweetheart.
It’s all just so damn sexy. Gus’s dance moves are just as vivid as in his edited music videos, and he is just so terribly nice at his banter in between songs. The whole Vancouver crowd is swaying along, which is saying a lot for the city which usually has a hard time with something as simple and easy and beautiful as dancing.
It really felt like he was enjoying the enjoyment of those in witness, a performative selflessness; or rather, that as much as Gus was performing for the audience, too was the attention of the audience a performance for him. It was a symbiotic show like that. He was there to please us, and we were there to please him. It is something that perhaps, in Gus’ younger generation is a lot stronger- the urge to been seen, noticed, a craving for attention. Though the era of social media and connectedness is exactly the thing that helps people like Gus achieve their status, it is through that same demon that one can get lost in self-consciousness and image and persona.
With Gus there is a trifecta of performance- the music, the aesthetic, and the show. None is missing and that is why he will continue to succeed.
The show comes to a close with an encore of Twist and Shout by the Beatles (my personal favourite Beatles’ song, and, let’s face it, probably Gus’ as well.)
The Biltmore cabaret was set to show the acts of Pinky Pinky, garage-rock come-ups from L.A., on tour with the ubiquitous Strokes’ guitarist Albert Hammond Jr, a tour celebrating the release of his latest solo-work project, Francis Trouble.
Not knowing but except the vague sounds to be heard from going to a “rock concert”, and being a diehard early Strokes fan, I am fairly prepared for any sort of guitar-lead acts awaiting m’ears.
Pinky Pinky is a trio playing as I walked in with wicked talent, as I deem any band with a drummer/lead singer combination. Funny enough, the only other drum/singer I have seen played on the very same stage years ago (Whitney).
Noticeable are the roles of each instrument. Pinky Pinky is a band with three lead musicians, with them all sharing an equal part of the sound: bassist with powerful complex lines, drum/singer with the beat n’ super haunting vocals, and guitarist with sharp progressions. I figured this is how a garage-rock Angel Olsen would sound- a wicked preface for a main act sure to please.
And what a spread like hummus on bread, the Albert Hammond Jr band was composed of five fellas including him; three guitarists, one drummer, and good ol’ Albert Hammond Jr singing like he does.
There is a perfor-motive to every show. I am sure Albert knows that Strokes fans will flock to see him no matter what he sounds like. They have come to watch him sing pop indie-rock, with albeit his own original vocal cadence, It is what The Strokes would be without Julian Casablancas, and if there were simply a shuffling of musician hierarchy.
It is not bad music by any means, it is just not wholly original, which is what you’d expect. He isn’t known for his sound, but for the sound he is a part of, that he helped create.
Throughout the show, Albert is interacting with everything. At one point he pulls down the projector screen in a childesque wonder kind of way. He’s chatting away and has good banter in between songs. He is a veteran after all.
If you are a Strokes fan, this was a good concert. If you are an Albert Hammond Jr fan, this was a great concert. Loud, nostalgic and quite a performance. Though personally, I’ll still spin Is This It before Francis Trouble.
On Tuesday March 13th at The Biltmore, Indie Pop performers COIN front-lined an energetic set for all All-Ages crowd.
As it was the youngest group of people I’ve encountered in one music venue since 2008, you can also imagine that this concert was chalked full of youthful enthusiasm: lots of squealing/shreaking, hair flips, crowd belting in unison the band’s top songs on Spotify, dabs (or whatever those are called), and way too many phones. I felt like such a grump but all ages shows also mean no alcohol on premises. Clearly, when it comes to kitschy pop, I appreciate being allowed to order a beer to help me swallow it down.
Old-millennial-throwing-shade-on-slightly-less-old-millennials-and-their-music-taste aside, this band brought a nicely curated, paced and energized set.
The band has two full length albums. “COIN” out in 2015, and “How will you Know if You Never Try” from 2017. The band is composed of four instrumentalists (guitar, bass, piano/synth, percussion), and paired their music with one lead singer and two backups. All really well sung- absolutely on pitch. COIN know their instruments too. The background/lights were pixelated rainbow hues, a groovy sunset, and pictures of the band members in what looked like their first class photos respectively.
Lines like “I’m not your boyfriend” and “What’s another night out” seemed to reaaaalllly resonate with the pre-19’s ;). Their lyrics aren’t carrying the most depth, but their songs are super catchy.
I personally like COIN‘s older stuff. My favourite of the night was “Run” from their debut album.
COIN was all and all a good time. I appreciated their clearly amazing musicality and stagemanship. Visually they were captivating too. Unfortunately I just like their older stuff more.
In summary: not my favourite crowd, not my favourite lyrics, and a lil too kitschy, but the crowd was eating them up and that’s really all that matters.
Also no encore…maybe the kids these days don’t know they have to ask for one?
I first heard A Tribe Called Red about four years ago. One afternoon I wasin my bedroom and suddenly loud drum beats shook my walls from the stereo in the living room; BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM. Then, as the First Nations inspired chanting kicked in over the electronic music I burst into my living room to find a room mate flailing his arms and legs jumping to the beats. The two of us jumped and danced – invigorated by the tribal sounds. This was the power of their music. Music that is an evolution of Native sounds with modern dance and hip-hop . The drum beats create a sharp energy that hits on an instinctual level, making it near impossible to sit still.
When A Tribe Called Red announced that they would be performing in Vancouver, a friend of mine from the First Nations community of Klemtu in Northern BC immediately bought tickets for their show. The tickets sold out within the first day, so the band announced that they would add a second show to their Vancouver line-up and I purchased my ticket to join him on the second night. Before the show, I met my friend at his hotel and we reminisced about other A Tribe Called Red performances we had attended. He pointed out how one of his favourite things about the band was their appeal to all ages. Last summer, as we danced about to the tribal beats at PNE, a toddler approached us to dance with us and bounced along to our jumping. In the back of the crowd folks using wheelchairs and elderly people bopped their heads and clapped their hands. Every person had a big grin on their face.
When we arrived at The Commodore last weekend we caught the tail end of the opening act, El Dusty; sexy beats with a hispanic flare. I found myself instinctively dancing with my hips. Even though it was Sunday night, the crowd was awake and alive, driven by the sultry sounds. I thought it was a perfect opening act for A Tribe Called Red, with trap/hip hop mixed with a specific cultural flare (in this case, Mexican influence). The crowd was feeling sexy. After his set, the lights came up in the room and the music turned low. Most of the dance floor went off to line up for beers and the bathroom. I stood with my friends, making sure we had our place marked on the dance floor.
I remembered the last time I saw A Tribe Called Red they were chanting to the crowds, and prompting us to chant along with them, “FUCK ENBRIDGE, FUCK KINDER MORGAN!” Kinder Morgan is an oil company that is illegally planning on building more pipelines through unceded Native territory. This issue is only a more modern one in a long history of First Nations Rights land being used without consent. ATCR is an outspoken advocate of Idle No More, a grassroots movement bringing advocacy to Native peoples and their supporters. They speaks of this plight in some of their songs including “Burn Your Village to the Ground” or “We Are The Halluci Nation.”
The lights turned off on the dance floor, and the stage lit up in an immediate frenzy as the music kicked in hard and fast. A Tribe Called Red opened with a remixed version of “Electric Pow Wow Drum.” The beat was hyper and the crowd jumped along with it. A friend of mine once said that there are three ways of dancing; you can self-consciously move along with the beat, you can dance in a way that exudes sexiness, or you could do what she called ‘mint’ dancing. ‘Mint’ dancing, as my friend put it, was when you’re ‘just give’n er‘. In other words, dancing hard and fast; not caring what you look like. The crowd was going mint. I was going mint. The music itself never relented in it’s beat; never slowed down, even a notch. A couple songs in just as I was starting to feel tired from dancing so hard, a group of break dancers took to the stage in front of the sound desk that the two musicians of A Tribe Called Red stood at. The break dancers acted as the hype, making the crowd go wild and giving us a second wind.
There was a noticeable absence from any sort of political message at this show, other than the continuous images of war running across the wall behind them. An image of warrior men in headdresses riding on horses raced on the screen. There were clips of Native men holding machine guns draped in feathers, with neon yellows, pinks, and white psychedelic patterns in between. The break dancers returned to the stage to hype up the crowd a few times. The dancers were a cast of approximately 8 people, and were some of the best dancers I’ve ever seen – all of whom were of Native descent.
The show overall felt like they were revisiting their root sounds and amped up the bpm. It was hard to keep pace with them the entire time but it was a welcome evolution of songs with which I was familiar. I get the impression that they are pulling away from a political message, for what reason, I do not know. I look forward to seeing what they’ll bring next time they’re in town.
Lights pixie pop phenom has been creating pop jams since the since the late 2000’s, becoming popular with the rise of toy-synth musicians like Owl City.
Imagine it is the late late 2000’s. A slew of angsty self-entitled millennials occupy the world’s high schools. Post-scene-pop-rock is what they listen to, and they’re emotional. I know because I was one of them and I loved it. I often listened to bands such as the All-American Rejects and Yellowcard, bands which preyed, or rather appealed, to my high school worldview of mostly confusion.
I remember Lights being somewhat of a fringe scene kid, occupying the niche left in the wake of the aforementioned POP ROCK BOYZ, sporting scenester hair and resembling early YouTube virus boxy. She blasted onto the scene with quirky and smooth pop hits like Saviour and Ice, with equally surreal bedroomcore music videos.
I arrive just as the second opener is finishing. I wait. It is dark, and I don’t know what to expect.
The crowd is murmuring as Lights enters and they all go wild, and then she begins. Wild pink lights are happening, flashing, and the opening song is what you would expect: energetic, captivating, loud. It is not reminiscent of the soft pop I was used to hearing from her.
She appears to have evolved into a super Christian version of Kesha, in the best way.
Second song is a pop rock jam, what I imagine a saloon-style club from the future would sound like, with a little country twang going on.
The third song is a throwback. ‘Second Go’ from her first full length release in 2009, ‘The Listening’. This is the Lights I remember and it brings back some melancholic memories of lonely teen walks I had around the park where I grew up.
Further into the set we go, and I notice that the music she’s making has matured. It’s fun. It has certainly transformed from what in retrospect was a naive attempt at something emotional, to a refined pop rock. Her aesthetic is where her creative and weird core shines through. With huge long orange hair, I can tell she feels very comfortable with her image. And she is a heck of a performer.
The visuals are great. At one point the screen behind her begins to play a graphic novel scene which I later learn is a sort of fantasy she has enrolled herself in- she being this mysterious flame haired sprite. As the comic is playing, all sorts of candles are brought out on stage to form a sort of shrine. It’s theatrical and interesting- a mid-show séance really, and then out comes Lights with an acoustic guitar and a costume change. She begins interacting with the audience and playing old school hits such as ‘February Air,’ once again from her first full length release.
This show is really an experience. I feel like if I were a die-hard Lights fan I would be getting my money’s worth.
Post-Séance, Lights once again goes backstage briefly for a costume change. She starts performing her newer pop-rock songs, once again bringing the energy in the venue up. I have to say the energy dynamics of the show are really well executed. The acoustic set in the middle of served as an intermission between two different climaxes.
Overall, the show was an incredibly nostalgic experience. Lights has really refined herself and she’s doing her- whether it is in the imaginative fantasies she’s thought up or dying her hair random magical colours or jamming to pop blasts, she has come a long way from the amateur bedroom pixie she once was. Some would say a Kesha from a different dimension where flaming unicorns and colourful surreal wastelands and bass are the norm. Lights now- a musical phantasmagoria. Yup.
There’s no slow build up in this review- no beating around the bush: Passion Pit delivered one of the best acts we’ve seen since 987 came to be. I’ll give the band most of the credit, but shout out to the crowd who gave me hope that the Vancouver crowd scene isn’t dead. (credit: 87/13).
While eagerly waiting in the photo pit for the show to start, I admit, I had no idea how this set was going to go. I’ve heard mixed reviews about Passion Pit, including one not-so-great review from yours truly (circa: 2010).
Oh my goodness, how they’ve redeemed themselves. They started off with the banger, “I’ll Be Alright,” which got the fans jumping. I honestly forgot I was supposed to take pictures momentarily. Throughout the whole set frontman Michael Angelakos knew exactly when to stop singing and point the mic to the crowd, to which we all would respond by singing our hearts out.
Next came “Sleepyhead,” a track that I consider to be Passion Pit’s magnum opus of songs. It seemed almost a shame to be at a Passion Pit show and not in the “pit of passion” that was The Commodore Ballroom’s dance floor that night. We were allowed to shoot the first 3 songs, but I got the shots I needed after 2, coat checked my camera, grabbed a cheeky pint, and rushed back to my pals.
They started off at 100 km/hr and showed no signs of slowing down. Although I’m a fan of their new album, “Tremendous Sea of Love,” I was a little nervous they would dedicate most of the night to it. It’s safe to say they heard my prayers and played every single song I was hoping to hear. Banger after banger after banger.
If the sweat on Angelakos’ back was any indication of how hard he was giving it on stage, he earned Passion Pit a whopping 9.87/10. (If you haven’t caught on by now, that’s the highest honour on this blog).
It’s been a few years since “Take a Walk” was over played on the radio, and I was ready to embrace it once more. It was the perfect end to one hell of a night.
There are blue lights as the ensemble enters. Five boys walk on stage and the crowd shrieks.
Hippo Campus, an indie rock group hailing from Minnesota, have been touring since their first full-length release, ‘Landmark’ in early 2017.
It is blue and then dark and then Jake Luppen, the 22 year-old frontman, becomes spotlit.
A mature and impressive voice rings shrill in the opening few lines of their set. Jake calmly swaying as the rest of the band bob their heads, rather fiercely resembling pigeons. This is indie rock- and I am not entirely sure what’s more impressive, the at times perfect addition of trumpet segments to the fierce array of twang, or Jake’s own confident, appropriate presence.
I say appropriate because often indie leads just don’t know what to do with their bodies. They over-contort in attempt to match the often wacky ‘n poppy cadence of the genre; however, Jake does not over-do it. It seems he is focused on other aspects of the performance: his rhythmic shredding and maintaining that angelic tenor voice of his.
The first song incorporates a soft trumpet interlude to which I am generally flabbergasted. I often fixate during performances on things that I find impressive or eccentric. First song- totally innovative indie banger. Great, great opener. Honestly this trumpet is killing it.
The second song, called “Suicide Saturday,” hits with snappy and clear drums about. It is somewhat of an ode to the traditional indie track, with a wickedly catchy chorus:
“Oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh oh,
it was a Suicide Saturday,
oh oh, oh oh oh, oh oh oh…”
Something this catchy is dangerous and kind of has me wanting to commit.
Throughout their set, they are constantly setting different moods- whether changing from quippy verses to soft asides, or catchy choruses to slow outros. But I think the brilliance of the act is in the way they transition from one to another in an engaging and honestly unnoticeable way. Which is impressive, considering their diverse soundscape, at times even with incredible bass lines literally shaking my very bonesies.
The climax arrives when after a lengthy built up intro, and they begin playing “warm glow”, which showcases the impressive vocal range of Jake and the groups overall ability to hold musical tension.
So what sets Hippo Campus apart from the indie sea of almost indistinguishable riffage twangboys? Their songs are a balance of the energy that the genre has to offer as well as the sensibility of musicians that want their songs to be dynamic. Full of not just energy, but all kinds of emotion. Each song offers a string of sad-happy, slow-energetic, interlude-segment compositions. These guys ain’t brainless, these songs ain’t brainless, these boys are mad talented.
Now for obvious reasons, any show having to follow up Mickey Avalon at the Cobalt (Saturday Oct 7th) was going to be a tough play for this reviewer’s heart, body, and soul. Nevertheless, on a crisp Saturday evening, I made my way down to the Cobalt with my friend Brittney* as co-pilot to review Shabazz Palaces. Unlike at Mickey Avalon‘s set, she was not throwing up around the corner before going inside.
I think the best way to describe the crowd at The Cobalt for this show would be a collection of people who looked vaguely Australian, artsy bros you met 5 years ago in Montreal, and your parents coolest friends.
First and foremost, if you haven’t seen Shabazz Palaces live: do it. I don’t know if it was the live bongos, the soulful bass vibes, or the occasional maracas but they are one of those acts whose live sound adds another dimension (maybe even 3 or 4) to their recorded sound.
Palaceer Lazaro at times reminded me of a mix of Eazy E, Kendrick Lamar, and your favourite neighborhood beat poet who doesn’t shower (in sound only). He delivered his usual experimental verses, but also dropped a few freestyles that showcased his traditional capability on the mic.
Tendai “Baba” Maraire handled most of the instrumentals and showcased impeccable stagemanship that really made this show such a joy to watch. I’d say that when the two of them broke it down, their abilities could even rival Spoon‘s (whose jams are mentioned here).
I was told by one of the aforementioned Montreal artsy bros that their live show had some interesting variations, like a sci-fi sounding remix of their own sci-fi sounding song. I was already convinced, but little details like this are what really make me recommend this Seattle-based duo.
Shabazz Palaces provided just the right amount of hip hop and soul to accompany this eclectic crowd.
2 bongo drums out of 2!
* Some names and identifying details not changed to protect the privacy of individuals 😉
The Devil Makes Three, a California-based bluegrass and ragtime trio, played a passionate set at the Commodore Ballroom (Sunday Nov. 12th). The stage was set in long string lights, and the floor of The Commodore, notoriously packed with springs, was the perfect venue to experience this Americana group.
The foot-stomping of the crowd was set to a mixture of their more recent material (Redemption & Ruin / released 2016) and some older tunes (The Devil Makes Three / released 2002). The trio’s harmonious vocals were paired with the twang of a stand up bass (Lucia Turino), guitar (Pete Bernhard), and Banjo (Cooper McBean), simultaneously complemented by a guest fiddler and percussionist. The crowd swayed in response to some of my favourites: “Old Number Seven,” “Hallelu,” and “Graveyard” to name a few. This performance put bluegrass hot on 987’s radar!
The musical and cultural impression of The Devil Makes Three is less reflective of their home state, California, and more so of South Carolina. Similarly, the atmosphere felt less like Vancouver and more like…let’s say…Vernon? The Devil Makes Three brought out the down-to-earth side of the Vancouver music scene and the crowd clearly adored the opportunity to appreciate some simply and impeccably performed old-time country music. Here’s to The Devil Makes Three for broadening our musical horizons, and showing us a damn good time.
