The first time I saw Japandroids was during the summer of 2009. A hot sweaty night found me impatiently waiting for the Vancouver duo at the El Mocambo, a Toronto staple for independent music. Hot off the release of their debut full-length Post-Nothing, one of my favourite releases of the year, it is needless to explain how excited I was. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten so hot and bothered over a band (both literally and figuratively), and the surrounding hype biting at their heels in the independent rock community represents that rare instance where not only is it well deserved, it is also well embraced by fans… Or so I thought. Last year’s show, which I raved about here, was a confusing monster: Replete with wind machine and an arsenal of beer and beverages, Brian King and David Prowse killed. Their set was fun, energetic and, most importantly, unpretentious. A band that so easily could have brushed off their fans due to their increasing acclaim constantly thanked everyone in attendance and invited them to play along. The problem, however, was that no one was having it. Never have I seen such a bored audience, and I ignorantly chalked it up to “hipster elitism.” I was afraid that this band I so dearly loved was being eaten up by a merciless, sanitary yup-machine. I was bitter. I wanted to move.
Fast-forward almost exactly a year later: On June 18th, 2010, Prowse and King are still feeling the heat of their raucous debut and they’ve mastered the art of the live show. They’re comfortable, playful, and a lot more confident in their playing and audience arousal. But I digress. There was more to this show than meets the eye.
Lee’s Palace, 9:00 pm. My accomplice and I rush from Bathurst station toward the familiar Annex glow: Honest Ed’s looms in the foreground amidst a heightened sense of congestion due to the North by Northeast (NXNE) boom. There are plenty of people in the area, each seeking a club, a band, or a prolific individual that sounds interesting. My steps turn into a run; I don’t have a wristband and I have a gut feeling that this show is going to get busy. How accurate my foresight is. We arrive at the show a few minutes into Grooms’ set. The Palace is near empty; a few people here and there sipping on beers, quite unassuming. ‘Thank God,’ I think to myself. Tonight is going to be intimate. Grooms were decent: The Brooklyn trio plays a variety of styles, most notably a shoegaze-influenced chord progression accompanied by a snappy bass and better-than-usual drumming. The band wasn’t the best I’ve ever seen, but one can tell they’ve occupied their share of stages in their relatively brief existence. Great sound and a very good first impression. Highly recommended.
Beer’s expensive at these things. You have a choice: Pay close to seven dollars for a bottle of Stella, order a five dollar bottle of water, or head out of the venue to chill with the smokers and mission it to a convenience store for a can of Iced Tea. Suffice it to say, sugary syrup was calling my name and a convenience store was close by. Upon my return to the venue, a noticeable line began growing. Entrance into Lee’s was a little busier and it was becoming more and more difficult to find a comfortable place to see. The Happy Hollows started their set right and set the stage for the rest of the night. Vocalist/guitarist Sarah Negahdari was a totally refreshing sight and sound: Her energetic demeanor, cute but dangerous attitude, and undeniable mastery of her instrument left me in shambles. The lady knows how to rock out, and must be seen live. This was my first experience with the band, and it’s an experience that has led me to order Happy Hollows merchandise online. I won’t try to describe their music on a song by song basis, but I’ll leave it at this: Karen O rocking blues-tinged technical riffs with solid drums and playful bass that bridge bubblegum pop with the emotional honesty of a band like Cursive. Essential stuff, and I’m excited to see where these guys head next.
By the time Wavves hit the stage at 11:00, the place was packed. There isn’t much that hasn’t been said about Nathan Williams‘ lo-fi/noise by way of Beach Boys cacophony: It’s simple, it’s noisy, it’s popular, and it works. Utilizing two propped aliens billowing dried ice and cranking the volume past eleven, Williams, alongside Billy Hayes and Stephen Pope (formerly associated with Jay Reatard before his untimely passing), churned through a good number of tracks off of last year’s Wavvves and introduced us to a number of new tracks. Songs like “Beach Demon,” ‘Weed Demon,” “So Bored,” and closer/single “No Hope Kids” benefited from the inclusion of a bass guitar, and proved that by dropping the lo-fi aesthetic found in the recordings, these songs still slay in front of a receptive audience. A small mosh pit emerged during a few tracks, and I started getting excited. It isn’t very often outside of hardcore and metal shows that I see some good push moshing. The band was refreshing and, a few hiccups aside, put on a very good performance. All those stories of battles with Black Lips are misleading: Williams and his misfit crew are fun. Sure, some of their half-baked banter about the wonders of weed, squirrels and dog fucking didn’t go over so well with certain members of the crowd, but I liked that the band could just let loose. Nathan Williams = Cool dude. I’d love to drink with this guy.
And finally it happened. As members of the crowd situated in the center of the club filed outward for the obligatory smoke and Iced Tea, my accomplice and I rushed toward the front of the stage. The full-hearted reception of Wavves had me excited for the possibilities of this Japandroids set. The night before saw the duo play a secret show at 2am, late enough that my sorry ass would never have seen its way back into suburbia until the next morning. Rumours flying of its excellence permeated my membranes. If you’ve ever been to Lee’s Palace, you know of its difficulties in maneuvering: A single, narrow entrance into a relatively vast space, accommodating seating on the sides, a long area in the back, and a somewhat large space in front of the stage where audience members are able to stand. The whole thing was filled. Pack sardines into a crushed tin can and you’re only hinting at the volume of people in attendance. Enter King and Prowse. Announcing that this would be there last stint in Toronto for quite some time and that they would attempt to fill the next 45 minutes with as much music as they could, the two East Coasters expanded upon the stack of Fender amps that loomed behind them and exploded into “Art Czars.” From the second the first chord struck to the well-known sounds of “Heart Sweats,” “Wet Hair,” “Rockers East Vancouver,” and “The Boys Are Leaving Town,” the audience shifted, expanded, danced and moshed to the sounds of a band hitting it big. What ensued during that night was magical: A communal understanding of something big happening in Canada. The simplicity of Japandroids’ music is accentuated by their sincerity and honest approach to music and their fans. There was a moment of clarity during a destabilizing rendition of their newest (and as of yet officially unreleased) song “Younger Us:” It was a moment where the audience and artists just clicked, unifying as one sweaty, ugly, beautiful whole. Its nostalgic lyrics of the times of yore had everyone close to tears. By the time the quintessential “Young Hearts Spark Fire” exploded through the room, the tired mass of sweaty patrons were neither exhausted nor upset; they knew they had just taken part in something special, perhaps monumental. The energy was unlike anything I have ever seen.
Upon exit I communicated with a tourist from the States: “Geez,” he said. “It’s like all of NXNE came to see Japandroids;” And judging by the 80-some odd people in line in addition to the hundreds of people inside, they very well might have. This is the pull of modern music. A return to lo-fi roots are bringing the focus back to the primal aspects of what makes music beautiful. Like sex, trickery and flashiness only get one so far. It’s that instinctual, primal connection that makes all the difference.
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