Festival Run-Down: Canadian Music Week @ various venues in Toronto, March 7-10
This past weekend’s Canadian Music Week (CMW)—an industry-driven vehicle for the nearly 600 bands that showed up to play 40 Toronto music venues, consisted of three days of bars serving until 4 a.m., longer lineups than many of these bars see all year, and equal parts debauchery and schmoozing.
The swanky Royal York hotel served as headquarters for the fest, and had probably never seen so many sneakers, faux-hawks or bathtubs full of beer. I hit the streets—and the occasional back alley—to see what Canadian music has to offer.
Thursday night’s Rivoli show was a mixed bag of both genres and audience . dbClifford brought some energy to the quiet room of mostly old suits and young lesbians with their brand of jazzand-funk-infused pop.
Though lead singer Daniel Clifford’s voice was close to John Mayer-style easy listening, his lyrics (which have caused controversy with radio stations for a reference to Pope-approved pedophilia), along with his laid-back stage presence and honest self-deprecation, made dbClifford just gritty enough to be palatable.
The surprise of the night was Toronto’s The Cliks. The nearly all-girl band, which wore stringthin ties and frilly cowboy shirts, hit the stage with energetic and honest pop-rock, falling somewhere between ’90s girl-punk bands Letters to Cleo and Fifth Column. Lead singer Lucas Silveira was the real attraction, showing off an incredible range, especially during a particularly pissed-off cover of Justin Timberlake’s “Cry Me a River.”
For the first and only time that night, the venue was full of fans pressed to the stage, dancing, fist-pumping, and singing along, especially during “Oh Yeah,” which has been getting play on MTV
Canada and MuchMusic.
Friday night, the Horseshoe Tavern’s stacked lineup had the grimy Queen West pool hall packed, which required a sneaky backdoor entrance and some fast-talking. Vancouver’s You Say Party! We Say Die! played a fun, fastpaced show, with “Cool Hands, Hot Bodies” getting major crowd reaction. The sweaty momentum came to its climax with a number that pulled of the nowdefunct controller.controller on stage for a shout-fest followed by a Canadian indie hug-session.
Next up was Cadence Weapon, a fast-rising rap artist from Edmonton, who had just won Best Urban Artist of the Year at the Independent Music Awards a few days earlier.
Cadence Weapon, a.k.a. Rollie Pemberton, brought his friend DJ Weasel to throw beats, gave shoutouts to Toronto’s Edmonton expats and covered fellow Albertan Chad VanGaalen’s “Mini TVs,” punching a new perspective into the already-thoughtful lyrics. Stepping outside traditional rap poses (which were likely being seen at the Public Enemy show across town), this paunchy, 21-year-old blogger brought intelligent, selfdeprecating lyrics and addictive beats to a show that was able to fill
a fairly empty stage.
He also got the crowd of Queen West denim junkies to uncross their arms and perform a little overhead clap—no mean feat at this end of town.
Despite a post-Weapon exodus, Montreal’s Land of Talk made an impressive effort to maintain
the energy level through the band change. Before they hit the stage, bassist Chris McCarron told me “I just want to be a band again,” referring to the Land of Talk’s full tour schedule and the way that it has
affected opportunities to write new music. Maybe he was drunk, maybe he was posturing, or maybe he’s just stereotypically Canadian, but McCarron seemed doubtful that people he didn’t know had heard of the band or liked their music. Assuming that Friday’s crowd wasn’t composed solely of his best friends and family, I’d say McCarron is in for a few more surprises. Land of Talk’s disproportionately big sound, cut through by lead singer Liz Powell’s heart-swelling vocals, combine to lift Land of Talk above the Montreal scene’s chatter. Despite playing to an under-aged crowd in a bad venue at a bad time and struggling with the technology required to produce their digitized sound, hellogoodbye’s Saturday matinee at the Reverb proved to be fun—in that cotton-candy and riding to the top of the ferris wheel way. The excitement of the 15-year-old fans holding digital cameras in front of their faces while simultaneously trying to dance and catch keyboardist Jesse’s eye was infectious.
From the Californian band’s saccharine lyrics (“You can’t be close enough / unless I’m feeling your heart beat”) to the massive merch booth lineup, the show felt so entirely adorable that lead singer
Forrest Kline’s f-bomb spliced banter was almost jarring. Saturday night’s festivities proved frustrating and hectic for many would-be concert-goers as most shows were sold-out by Saturday afternoon. In some bewilderingly bad logistic planning, Britain’s indie-pop stars the Pipettes were booked for the tiny
backroom at the Rivoli and much to my dismay, somebody had told the bouncer at the Horseshoe’s backdoor to stop letting people sneak in.
Fortunately, a series of lucky encounters led me to an exclusive industry showcase at the Gibson
Showroom, hidden away in Parkdale, a few blocks south of cool (also known as the Drake Hotel).
The show featured a number of Newfoundlanders and former Newfoundlanders. Whether it was the open bar or the sharing of drummers between bands, there was a real community feeling, in spite of the spatially unfocused venue and awkward record execs standing around.
The 10-piece bunch that makes up The Tom Fun Orchestra brought an East Coast kitchen ceilidh to the
stage with their Celtic-tinged pop, inspiring a massive dance party that straddled both the stage and the floor in front of it. Ian MacDougall’s flat, gravelly voice contrasted with Alicia Penney’s sweet vocals, while the trumpet played off the banjo to form a big sound without being muddied between instruments. Unlike other artists in the lineup, Tom Fun didn’t seem as interested in making corporate connections as having an old-fashioned good time, making them one of the take-home discoveries of the weekend. Based on Saturday’s performance by Blair Harvey—a native of Ferryland, Newfoundland
and part of the who’s who of the St. John’s music scene—he’s about to do something big for Canadian music. Harvey’s unassuming offstage personality was kicked to the curb the minute he stepped on stage, harmonica around his neck and “fuck you” attitude firmly in place.
With Dylan-esque altcountry songs about drinking and heartbreak, his dark tunes, slurred vocals and raw energy all made for a captivating show. This rebel isn’t faking anything lyrically—he defied the strict time allotments and played double the number of allowed songs, all adding to his electric pull. I predict that girls and guys alike will soon be falling for this sneering bad boy.
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