Islands,
at the Rio Theatre
March
8 With their fourth album A Sleep & A Forgetting recently released, it
was no surprise that Islands would stick mostly to material from that release
in a live set.
Frontman
Nick Thorburn lacks a stage presence, coming off like a shy talent-show
hopeful; it's only his shining voice that makes him stand out. Though not much
fun to watch onstage, Islands have a well-rounded set list which ranges from
honky-tonk piano ditties, to the early 2000s indie-pop favourites from their
debut, such as the now-relevantly-titled “Don't Call Me Whitney, Bobby”, which
got the biggest response of the night.
Much
like the light-up skull sitting atop the piano may have suggested, their newer
material is getting progressively darker, but it remains accessible to those
familiar with their early work, like the die-hard, sing-a-long groupies
crowding to the front of the Rio's stage. After all, this is the same Thorburn
that once fronted one of Canada's shortest-lived but most-beloved indie bands,
The Unicorns.
With
mid-‘80s Joy Division gloomster imagery like the industrialized set design and
their blackon- black roses cover of Forgetting, it's clear that Islands
are visibly moving in a new direction – or at least attempting to. There is a
lot of potential here that the band seems to come close to capturing, but the
slightly askew stage presence gets in the way. The banter was barely there at all,
with Thorburn introducing a handful of songs by title only, and otherwise never
really addressing the adoring crowd. This lack of connection was augmented by
the dim lighting during the first set.
By
the crowds responsiveness, however, it seems that this detached and fragmented
energy is the band's appeal, and like hundreds of punk bands before them, the
disconnect between band and audience makes them that much more mysterious.
Overall,
the songs stand on their own. One such standouts as the new tortured-heart
ballad "Lonely Love", Thorburn's vocal pallet provides a perfect
springboard for self-doubt sifted through an alt-country filter. So, perhaps
the visual appropriation is just a mere goth tribute, as Islands remain true to
their original sound, showing just enough evolution to not get lost in the
shuffle.
Slow
Club, at the Media Club
March
6 Just when you think Sheffield, England duo Slow Club are virtually unknown to
everyone but yourself, you show up at a packed Media Club, where the entire
room sings along with every verse. I had to actually strategically wedge myself
halfway between the side of the stage and a large speaker just so I could get
an accurate reading of how the male-female harmonies translated into a live
set.
Multi-instrumentalist
Rebecca Taylor charmed fanboys and girls alike with her smooth transitions,
beginning with peppy vocals, extending to guitar, and eventually perching
behind the drum kit by the show's final stretch. Her folksy harmonies with
bandmate Charles Watson are somehow almost better live than on the band's recordings.
Backed in a live setting with two additional musicians to round out their
sound, Taylor and Watson had a great showcase of rounded out, live versions of
their well-crafted alt-pop with notes of blues rock, garage, and just a pinch
of twee.
Slow
Club hover around their debut album Yeah So's foundation, just
slightly altering the formula on last year's Paradise which saw the duo
straying slightly from their cutesy formula.
The
newer songs show the band’s songwriting development, adding in more percussion,
which lends itself well to a live set. The band's early songs, such as set
standout "Giving Up On Love" seemed to be most popular with the
crowd, and fair enough: as exciting as it is to see someone pull off whapping
at the drum kit while delivering a passionate vocal, it's audibly satisfying to
see the duo lined up at the microphones delivering a two-part love song.
The
harmonies in their early material have been so perfected over the past
half-decade that it's impressive that they still seem so passionate in the
delivery. At one point, Watson was shredding on his guitar while Taylor and an
additional drummer both banged heavily on the stage's two drum kits, a sound
the intimate Media Club could barely handle, but it somehow still translated to
tenacious stage energy.
For
all the rock-heavy or folksy harmonizing moments, Taylor seemed dead set on
proving that they're not one of those pushover bands who just give in to every
demand. After about the seventh crowd request for the band's "Christmas TV",
she responded to the crowd with "You know that band who play 'My Sharona'?
I heard a story where one time a crowd requested it and they played that song
straight for a whole hour. And then they made the guy come onstage and take all
his clothes off." The story met with a huge audience group laugh, just as
Taylor cued the band to spontaneously play ‘TV’, which, though a bit rusty,
seemed like it was legitimately a last minute decision – a rare true
rock-and-roll moment, which satiated the crowd.
//JJ Brewis, art director
//Author illustration
//JJ Brewis, art director
//Author illustration
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