December 14th 1987, Depeche Mode at Maple Leaf Gardens

You may not be able to tell, but the ticket in this picture is from the Depeche Mode show at Maple Leaf Gardens on December 14th 1987. The ink has faded considerably, but I can assure you that if you hold it at just the right angle under the light you can see the faint impression of the date and seating information. You'll just have to trust me on this one. And the fact that you can't read this ticket is one of the reasons I started writing this blog. 

When I was a kid and I first started going to see concerts, I decided to keep all of my ticket stubs and start a literal pile of concert tickets so I'd have something to remember all of the shows that I went to. It never occurred to me that I would ever forget any of those nights, any of those shows, any of those moments, I just wanted to keep a record, a souvenir of the experience, something physical that would connect me with a moment. And after a number of years that pile of concert tickets became rather large, which started me thinking about what those slips of paper meant. They were souvenirs, but upon reflection I realized they were something much more than that. These tickets helped to define me, had inspired and influenced the person that I had become.

So I started writing about some of those shows under the auspices that the concerts I was writing about were defining moments in my life, experiences that led me to become the person that I am today. I had this idea that the music that I loved had literally helped shaped who I am, and that seemed like an interesting thing for me to explore a little deeper. But as I started sorting through my collection of tickets in preparation for new posts for the blog, I realized that like this one, some of the tickets I had were starting to fade, perforations had ripped, and a handful of them seemed to be missing. 

Those physical changes made me start thinking harder about my memories of the shows they were for, and I realized that my memory wasn't as complete as I had thought it was. When I started thinking back about things there were shows where I couldn't remember who I went with, shows where I didn't remember the opening acts. There were even a few shows I had tickets for that I couldn't remember attending at all. 

So between the state of some of my tickets and the state of some of my memories, I was inspired to write more entries 'cause I didn't want to run the risk that any more tickets or memories would fade, adding them to the blog as I figured out a spin or an angle or a story to go with each one, each of them meant to give a little bit more insight into who I was, who I became, who I am. Then when the pandemic began and there were suddenly no longer any concerts to go to, I was inspired to write about these shows even more, not just to tell my own story, but also to fill the gap created by an absence of new concert experiences. I wanted to try and recapture some of the emotions and feelings that those shows inspired, and running parallel to that, I hoped that if I wrote about them and shared them with you, then maybe you would be reminded of those shows too, maybe you would reflect on them as well, and maybe you would make your own connections with your own experiences, and how the shows that you've seen have shaped your lives. I was a little worried that my writing skills weren't up to the task, but I thought I should at least try to connect with you, and so over the last twelve months that's what I've done. I'll leave it to you to tell me how successful I've been in my efforts.

So, with all that said, and with the hopes that we'll be seeing more shows happening in 2022 and I can use this blog to post about new shows that I go to and new concert experiences that I have, this is the last entry I'll be making for this year reflecting on past concerts. And given that the very first concert I ever went to was Depeche Mode with my friend Dave, it seems nicely circular to me that this last entry would be the story of when my friend Dave and I saw Depeche Mode in 1987 on the first leg of the Music for the Masses tour... 

***

I often think about the significance of moments, and whether we're ever really aware of what's happening at any given time. History gives us the opportunity to view everything contextually, to pick and choose all the things that matter, but how often do we recognize those moments as they're happening? I suppose it all depends on the kind of event, but when it comes to concerts I don't think that we're ever really able to recognize significance until after the fact. I mean, under the best circumstances if a concert is good you enjoy it, you leave with a smile on your face and a song in your heart. But sometimes you get the feeling that you're in the middle of something special, and I'd like to say that's how I felt when I saw Depeche Mode on the Music for the Masses tour.

In the spring of 1987 Lee Carter, radio host of the "Live from London" segment on CFNY, reported that a new single from Depeche Mode was coming out soon, and it was going to be called Strangeglove. And even though I didn't have any idea what a Strangeglove was, I had every faith that the song would be awesome. I mean, why wouldn't it be awesome?  With every release Depeche Mode had become more and more amazing, and after the juggernaut of sheer incredible awesome Awesomeness that is the Black Celebration album, well, surely this song was destined to be their best ever.  Even though I didn't have any idea what a Strangeglove was.

So when April came and I finally heard it, there was no question that it was Pretty Damned Awesome. And I was kind of relieved that it wasn't actually called Strangeglove. The song title was really  Strangelove and that made considerably more sense to me, even though I wasn't really any more clear about what Strangelove was either (I'll admit that almost thirty years on I'm still not sure what Strangelove is, but I'm willing to bet that it's better than a Strangeglove).  The song was an incredible piece of electronic music that continued the growth of Depeche Mode's sound, adding an immediate accessibility that made it sure to appeal to a wider market.  That's not to say that Depeche Mode were selling out, it was more a case of effectively tapping into the zeitgeist in a way that they hadn't quite been able to do until that point. It was the right single for that moment in time and it was pretty obvious that this would be the one that would make a difference in their careers.

Now I should qualify here that Strangelove isn't the be all and end all of the Depeche Mode catalog, there are tons of far better songs that were still to come in the years to follow (like Enjoy the Silence, In Your Room, Precious, Lilian, and a metric tonne of others), but at the time Strangelove was the beginning of a new era for the band, the start of the next phase in their career.  Their record company felt the same way, and Strangelove was their first simultaneous North American/European release. See, at the time, the European music market was normally a few months ahead of North America, with singles released almost a full quarter ahead of North American releases, but this time I guess everybody at the record label knew that something big was happening with this single. And of course they were right.

As is often the case, the release of a new single heralds the launch of a new album, and sure enough Strangelove was the advance single for an album called "Music for the Masses" that was set for release in the fall of 1987, and when it came out in September it ensured Depeche Mode's place as one of the most prominent bands of the time. While they had a decent sized following before, this was the album that solidified their fanbase and made them stars. With anthems like Never Let Me Down Again, Behind the Wheel, and the aforementioned Strangelove, Depeche Mode were at the top of their game, proving to the world that they were more than just a neat little synth band with cool hair and a taste for bondage-wear. They were destined to be stars!

Shortly after the album was released, the band announced the Music for the Masses tour, which included a date in Toronto at Maple Leaf Gardens. And it seemed perfectly reasonable and obvious that I would go see them again, even though I had already seen them on the Black Celebration tour the year before. I know that lots of people have this idea that if they've already seen a band once they never have to see them again. And I guess in some cases that would be true. But in other cases it's sooooooo not true!!! And even though I hadn't had the chance to have seen anybody twice at that early point in my concert going life, I knew that I couldn't miss this new Depeche Mode tour, because IT WOULD BE DIFFERENT!!!! It might even BE BETTER!!! They would play songs that THEY HADN'T PLAYED BEFORE!!!! It would BE AWESOME!!!  THEY WOULD PLAY STRANGELOVE!!!!!!!

So I decided to see Depeche Mode again at Maple Leaf Gardens. Because I knew it was going to be something special. I went with my friend Dave, and given that he was the arbiter of all awesome musical things at the time, Dave also knew that it was going to be something special. There were never any doubts in either of our minds about that.

Now I'll admit, I'm having a bit of a challenge putting a spin on this entry given how readily familiar most Depeche Mode fans are with the tour in question, but indulge me for a moment and let me wax eloquently about the things that I remember from the show. The Toronto gig at Maple Leaf Gardens was relatively early on in the tour, but all of the pieces were already in place and all of the energy and excitement that would be captured in D.A. Pennebaker's "101" film were already there, but it was still a little raw, still a little unpolished, and there was still a little room for the band to grow.

Dave and I had seats about halfway up the stands to the left of the stage, and they were pretty good tickets. For the life of me I can't remember the name of the opening band, Colourbox? Speakerbox? Musicbox? Something like that, I have faith that Dave remembers and I'll be sure to ask him the next time we chat. Anyway, they were pleasant enough but nothing really stands out in my mind aside from this thing they did where they... folded a sheet? Or a banner of some sort?  I'm not really sure what it was, but it was kind of shimmery and cool, and y'know, as far as opening bands that I don't remember very well go, they're certainly one of my favorites.

After the opening band played their set there was the standard break, and then the lights went down and PIMPF from the new album started playing. The stage was obscured by a scrim so you couldn't really see anything, and the music built up and there were lights and fog and all those things that get me really excited at the opening of a show, and then we heard those two drum beats and the sound of a hubcap spinning on the ground, and Behind the Wheel started. A set of banners fell from the rafters further covering the stage, and the intro to the song kept playing. I'd like to take this opportunity to say that Behind the Wheel is one of my favorite Depeche Mode songs and it's always been great live, but there was a particular majesty to it that evening that made it really spectacular, something big and huge and totally awesome. Anyway, the music was playing, the vocals began and right when Dave Gahan sang "...Now" after the first verse, the banners and the scrim fell and you could see the stage, and there was the band, and damn it all, it was really pretty cool! There's no question in my mind that of all the bands I've ever seen, Depeche Mode really know how to make a curtain falling into something exciting.

The stage set was a two tiered job, with a raised level in back where Martin Gore, Alan Wilder and Andy Fletcher were stationed for most of the set, and a lower part in front where Dave Gahan spent most of his time gyrating and spinning and shaking his hips. I'd like to go on record as saying that of all the bands I've seen, Dave Gahan probably gyrates more and gyrates better than anybody else.

Oh, oh, oh! And Martin Gore and Alan Wilder both had these great big metal sheets on posts beside their keyboard rigs and they'd hit them with various metal scraps during a number of songs like Stripped and Master and Servant, and a few others. It was all very Industrial and everybody at the show thought it was really cool.

Dave Gahan wore white pants that night and a black studded leather jacket with a white tank top underneath. He looked pretty cool in that very unique way that people did back in 1987. Martin Gore was wearing a rather fetching lederhosen and chains combo. He can pull off that look pretty well, y'know? All of the band had great hair on that tour.

For those of you that are interested, you know in "101" how Dave Gahan says "Good evening Pasadena!" after they play Behind the Wheel?  I'm pretty sure he said "Good evening Toronto!" at exactly the same point, carefully enunciating every syllable because nobody ever thinks to tell people that it's pronounced "Taranna". I have faith that he also said "Good evening Montreal/Detroit/New York/whathaveyou!" when they played those cities too. And that's okay, I kind of like the effort to make each audience feel special, and to quote Mick Jagger on The Simpsons "When I say it in Springfield, I MEAN IT!"

So what else?

It's pretty typical in every Depeche Mode show that Martin Gore sings a couple of songs on his own, and this show was no exception. He had a particularly tentative and shy approach to the mike as he sang Pipeline and The Things You Said, but it was all very good and the audience really enjoyed it. Later on in the set he also sang A Question of Lust as one of the encores, and when he did the Gardens was transformed into a beautiful constellation of teeny tiny stars from all of the lighters that were held up, swaying back and forth. Thinking about it I find myself smiling nostalgically for lighters, there's something so much more beautiful about an open flame than a glowing smartphone. While we're talking about Martin Gore, it was pretty early on in terms of his playing guitar on stage too, and he had a tentative and shy approach to that as well. When you see him play these days he's pretty much all guitar all the time, strutting around at the front of the stage with Dave Gahan, rockin' out like a rockin' out guitar player does, but in those days he wasn't nearly so comfortable. I guess over the years his audience has had a chance to watch his confidence grow and as a long time fan I think that's really cool.

I remember Stripped being particularly amazing that night, it's hands down my absolute favorite Depeche Mode song, and Dave Gahan's voice was particularly rich for this rendition. I've always appreciated how pure and true the lyrics seem, and I consider the line "Let me hear you make decisions without your television, let me hear you speaking just for me..." to be one of the most beautiful lines ever written by anybody anywhere. During the song there were these amazing cones of light made by fog and lasers, and it was really pretty wonderful. I am filled with feels just thinking about it.

Also, you know that arm swinging thing the audience does every time they play Never Let Me Down Again? You have to remember that this was the first tour they ever did it, this wasn't "a thing", it was just something the audience did during that song that became a thing. And I like that kind of thing, I like that kind of thing very much.

It was a really great concert, and at the end of the evening after the lights had come up Dave and I left the show thinking how awesome Depeche Mode were, and how much we had enjoyed the evening. It was a perfect moment. And perfect moments like that should always be cherished and remembered.

A few months later Depeche Mode came back to play an outdoor show at CNE Grandstand on the second half of the tour (June 9th, 1988 to be exact).  And in an effort to relive the awesome experience of the show in December, Dave and I decided to see them again. This was towards the end of the tour, just a few days away from the Pasadena gig that would be filmed for "101", and they were a little bit more polished, a little bit more confident than they had been in December. They had clearly reached their final evolution as Swaggering Rock Icons.

There's not much else I can about the CNE Grandstand show that I haven't already said, it was pretty much identical to the set they played both at Maple Leaf Gardens a few month prior and what they would play in Pasadena a few days later. Dave and I were successfully able to relive the awesome experience of the show in December with only a couple of minor changes including Martin Gore singing Somebody,  and Just Can't Get Enough being played as an encore. Like Maple Leaf Gardens, they closed with Everything Counts. And it really does, doesn't it?

Thinking about it now, it's clear that there was something happening that made the Music for the Masses tour more significant than any other tour that Depeche Mode had ever done to that point, and there's no question you could feel it at the time. I'm not a trendsetter or a cool tracker or anything like that, but I know what I like, and I guess at that particular moment in time my own personal tastes were synchronized with everyone else, which in turn were in tune with a band that had moved up to a higher level in the development of their work. Call it synergy, call it zeitgeist, call it right time right place, call it whatever you want, but I was happy to see the Music for the Masses tour when it happened. In retrospect it's proven to be kind of a big deal, and I'm glad that Dave and I got to see it. Twice.

December 4th 1989, The Rolling Stones at Skydome

The Rolling Stones came to Toronto on their Steel Wheels tour in September 1989, and it was kind of a big deal at the time. The Stones hadn't played much through the eighties, there were even suggestions that they had broken up, so when they announced a world tour at the end of the decade it was greeted with a lot of excitement by a lot of people who had been waiting to see them. And there's no question that I was one of those people. The Rolling Stones had always had a strong reputation as a great live act, and from a historical standpoint there's no question that they're up there with the Beatles in terms of musical impact and influence. So I got a ticket for the show 'cause I wanted to see what all the big deal was about. 

And it was kind of lacklustre...

It's not that it was a bad show, there was an effort there, but overall the show was... disappointing. It was very early in the tour, and since the band hadn't played together in a number of years there was a certain amount of sloppiness. There were also some technical problems, missed queues, inflatables that didn't inflate, it was all a bit Spinal Tap to be honest. That happens, not every show is going to be awesome, I'm okay with that and I didn't really think much of it again.

...Until the Fall when I started seeing commercials on TV for a pair of new Stones shows that had been announced for December, all slick eighties editing with slam cuts and neon fonts and huge crowd shots, all very hype worthy, and a deep voice growling about "THE WORLD'S GREATEST ROCK BAND!!! BACK AGAIN!!! FOR TWO VERY SPECIAL NIGHTS!!! IN TORONTO!!! AT THE SKYYYYYDOME!!!" And I'll admit, I kind of bought into the hype a little bit. I started thinking, maybe things would be different for this pair of shows? Maybe the tiny Stonehenge models and Seed pods that didn't open in the earlier date in September would have been worked out, and y'know, the Stones would have had all that intervening time on the road to get their act together. They might be kind of tight by December, right? And that might make for a better show...

Maybe they *would* be two very special nights at the Skydome...

Unfortunately I didn't make those connections until it was too late, the shows sold out in minutes, well before I had reasoned all of this out, and I couldn't get a ticket. And I was okay with that, but I kept seeing those commercials, tempting me with the possibility that the Stones could redeem themselves in my mind. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to see the Stones again. But I couldn't do it without a ticket, and every time I saw one of those commercials I felt like the Stones were taunting me...

And then as luck would have it, one day about a week before the show there was an announcement on the radio that the Skydome was going to release a few tickets for both sold out shows, just a few hundred, and that was the opportunity that I needed. Fate was on my side, and I was able to score a single on the floor, row 94 to be exact, but it was centre and I would be in the building, and sometimes that's all you need for a show like this.

So with ticket in hand I went to the Skydome to give the Rolling Stones another shot, and I'm happy to say that it was everything I had hoped for and more. All of the technical problems from the earlier show in September had been addressed, resulting in a slick and sophisticated concert that lived up to and surpassed the band's reputation. The position of my seat gave me enough closeness that I could see what was happening on the stage pretty well, while also being far enough away that I was able to truly appreciate the spectacle. And it was quite a spectacle, with lights and explosions and pyro and lasers and inflatables, and, y'know, the Rolling Stones were there too.

They opened with an incendiary run through Start Me Up, then followed with a few newer tracks like Harlem Shuffle and Undercover of the Night, and while those songs may not have been the best work that the Stones ever did, they did have a punchier sound in a live setting, a raw feeling that really  appealed. They played an amazing version of Miss You highlighted by some sweet sax playing and dueling guitars from Keith Richards and Ron Wood. I've always liked Miss You, surely the best example of sleazy late seventies New York disco vibes you could ever hope for. Great stuff...

The highlight of the show for me was a stretch through Paint it Black, 2000 Light Years From Home, Sympathy for the Devil, and Gimme Shelter, each of them absolutely magnificent, pretty much capturing the entire Stones experience for me. I've long held that Gimme Shelter is the Stones' greatest moment, apocalyptic and unsettling, tense and terrifying, and that night it was all of those things and more, truly a brilliant live moment. They closed the night with Satisfaction and Jumpin' Jack Flash, and I mean, of course they did, those two songs were the perfect pair of tracks to end a great show.

So yeah, I was completely sucked in by the hype of a well done commercial, but this is one of those cases where the show delivered exactly what the commercial said it would. I'm not saying that it was the best show I've ever seen, but it was solid, it was good, and looking back on it I think it was a really good time to see the Stones. This was the first tour where they played Toronto during my concert going lifetime, and in hindsight it was a sweet spot in their career where they still had a spark and they still had some fire. Did they live up to their reputation as a great live act? Yeah, I'd say that they did. Maybe not "THE WORLD'S GREATEST ROCK BAND!!!" like the growly voiced announcer said they were, but definitely a great live act...

November 26th 1990, The Sisters of Mercy at Wembley Arena

 

The Sisters of Mercy had a huge mystique about them in the eighties. Despite their claims that they had nothing to do with the G word, they were undisputed leaders in making dark, brooding anthems for a whole generation of black clad denizens, offering a cinematic scope and grandeur in their music that few of their genre peers were able to touch. The Sisters of Mercy offered something big and bombastic, a dramatic and explosive sound with orchestral flourishes and haunted choirs. It was completely over the top in all ways, but it was also really Really REALLY good, and their songs fully captured the hearts and imagination of the Goth scene at the time.

But as bombastic and epic as their recorded output was, the Sisters of Mercy weren't very well known at the time for playing shows, especially shows in North America. There had been a few dates in the US in support of the first album but not the steady flow of gigs that some of their peers were doing, and as far as I know there weren't any shows in support of their 1987 opus "Floodland" outside of some TV appearances on Top of The Pops and that kind of thing. 

If you read my last post about Depeche Mode, you'll know that a new job had me saving and planning for a vacation that year, and reading in Melody Maker about all of the great shows happening in London I had decided that would be the ideal destination, so it was just a matter of choosing when my best opportunity would be. When the Sisters announced a pair of dates at Wembley Arena I was intrigued, and my choice was made even more clear when I realized that one of the dates was scheduled on my birthday. 

So I went to London, and on November 26th 1990 I found myself at Wembley Arena for the Sisters of Mercy. This would have been for the "Vision Thing" tour, and there weren't any North American dates planned at the time so it was kind of a big deal for me. This was when Tony James was playing bass, and Andreas Bruhn and Tim Bricheno were also in the band. It goes without saying that Doktor Avalanche was on drums, it wouldn't be the Sisters without Doktor Avalanche, and of course Andrew Eldritch was doing vocals.

When the lights went down the band walked out to a drum intro that launched into First and Last and Always from the first album, and the crowd went kind of nuts. Wembley Arena is a fairly big venue, about the same size or maybe a bit bigger than Maple Leaf Gardens, and I had a decent view from the middle side about two sections to the left of the stage that gave me a great perspective of the show, close enough to see the band but far enough away to appreciate the spectacle. Eldritch was wearing a snake skin shirt with a band collar close to his neck, aviator sunglasses, and his hair was freshly cut short in contrast to all of the promo pictures for the album and shows where he had shoulder length hair. Tony James wore a top hat in a nod to his days with Sigue Sigue Sputnik, but I don't remember what the rest of the band were wearing. Whatever it was I'm sure that they were quite dashing.

After a strong opening the band moved into Lucretia, My Reflection from "Floodland" highlighting James' deep bass skills which were pretty impressive but admittedly not as strong as Patricia Morrison who had played on the original version. An elongated opening for Ribbons followed, adding to the song's tension, building around repeated guitar lines and the growing unease in Eldritch's vocals. There's always been an inherent tension within the Sisters' music, that's a large part of their appeal, and that live version of Ribbons walked a particularly fine line that night. 

Their performance of Dominion was dramatic and epic, going over the top in full Steinman enhanced glory, in contrast to Marian and Alice which were both delivered in a more direct and immediate way, rippling with a dark energy that wrapped around the audience. There were apocalyptic takes on Gimme Shelter and This Corrosion, and Temple of Love rolled on forever and ever and ever, twenty thousand people all doing an epic Goth dance while a set of three hanging mobiles raise and fell above the stage reflecting lights and bouncing lasers around the venue. They closed the night with a ferocious version of Vision Thing and a roaring run through 1969 that would have made Iggy Pop proud. It was all pretty awesome.

A few months later the Sisters finally made it to Toronto for a show at Massey Hall with Danielle Dax, and while it was still a big and mighty performance that I completely enjoyed, it had kind of lost something in a smaller venue, a certain power and driving force that was fully evident in their show at Wembley just didn't make it to Toronto. I've thought about it a little bit since and I've come to realize that the Sisters of Mercy aren't really a band made for intimate venues or for individual reflection, they don't gain anything from small spaces. They're more meant for big noisy environments with big crowds, open spaces that they can fill up with a wall of sound that threatens to topple over at any moment, crushing everything that makes the mistake of coming too close. That big sonic energy is at the heart of what the Sisters of Mercy do, and I'm glad that I had the chance to see it in full effect that night in 1990.

November 23rd 1990, Depeche Mode at Wembley Arena

 

 

Depeche Mode's World Violation Tour in 1990 holds a special place for many of their fans, a sweet spot in their history where the band's skills as songwriters and musicians was in perfect synch with their popularity. Having scaled exceptional heights of artistic and critical success with the release of "Music for the Masses" in 1987, Depeche Mode were able to reach even further when "Violator" came out in 1990, an album that many would consider the high point of their studio career. Propelled by four immensely strong singles that fully encapsulated and defined the Depeche Mode ideal, along with a selection of lushly produced and nuanced tracks that embraced and celebrated all of the darker elements that run through the band's work, "Violator" was and is a perfect album, a record that has inspired countless fans and countless artists on their own musical journeys.

Along with releasing the album, Depeche Mode went on tour throughout 1990 in support of "Violator", and those shows have gained a certain mystique since there's never been an official video release or album recording issued, giving the World Violation tour a kind of lost treasure element, a kind of "You had to be there" appeal. I was lucky enough to see it twice, once in Toronto at CNE Grandstand during the summer at a truly amazing show despite it being a wicked cold and rainy night, and a second time in London at Wembley Arena. 

See, around the time that "Violator" was released I had started working a new job, and I set a goal for myself to save a bit of money so I could take a vacation a few months later. And in thinking about where I wanted to go I was inspired by all of the concert listings that I was seeing in the British music papers. As far as I could tell from Melody Maker and the NME, there were amazing shows happening in London every day and all I had to do was wait for the right time when there were a few shows all within the same week so I could maximize the opportunity. And as luck would have it, the stars aligned over a week in London in November where there were a handful of shows that I wanted to see, including Depeche Mode at Wembley Arena. Even though I had already been to the Toronto date of the tour in the summer, the appeal of seeing the show again in such a famous venue was pretty strong, so my mind was made up. I was going to London to see Depeche Mode (and a few other shows) in the fall. 

So if this blog were a movie, now would be the time for a montage playing over an instrumental track from one of the earlier Depeche Mode albums. A shot of me circling concert ads in an issue of Melody Maker with a red pen, me on the phone booking tickets for a flight, eating mac 'n' cheese while I listen to "Violator" on my Walkman, a shot of me pulling a luggage strap over my shoulder and handing a ticket to a smiling flight attendant, all that kind of stuff, all in the service of moving the story along and getting me into my seat at Wembley on November 23rd 1990.

Depeche Mode were in fine form that evening, one of the last dates on a very successful tour that had further solidified their reputation as an excellent live draw. And I might be projecting a bit here, but I'm sure that playing London is always a thrill for a band, one of those cities like Paris and New York that has a particular appeal and excitement about it. The show opened with World in My Eyes, where the band literally invited the audience on a trip, similar to how Behind the Wheel was used to open their earlier Music for the Masses tour, suggesting a journey to be taken over the course of the night. I like that idea, there's an appeal to the thought of being taken somewhere else during a show, an escapist fantasy that further strengthens the immersive element of live performance for the audience. Plus, y'know, World in My Eyes is a pretty great song, so there's that too...

At this point in their career the band had a strong back catalog of singles, and the show that followed was a steady parade of fan favorites, along with a few album tracks thrown in for good measure, and it's a testimony to the strength of "Violator" that those album tracks were received with just as much excitement as the hits. Clean was exceptionally impressive that night, haunting and beguiling, a repeated melody that drew the audience deep under it's spell while a video of a slowly spinning cowboy hat played behind the band. The biggest cheers of the night came for Enjoy the Silence and Personal Jesus, both recent singles that had captured the imagination of old and new fans of the band alike, each of them expanded and elongated with additional instrumental grooves that gave Martin Gore a chance to strut a little bit with his guitar. Any nervousness that Gore had displayed on earlier tours was gone by then, and he was more than happy to move around the space while he played. 

The night closed with a medley of Behind the Wheel and Route 66, a sweet keyboard solo by Alan Wilder bridging the two tracks together while black and white videos (I'm assuming from Anton Corbijn?) of US highways played along in the background. It was pretty great, and even though I already knew what to expect from having seen the Toronto date on the tour earlier in the summer, it was still just as exciting, just as awesome as it was the first time I'd seen them play it.

I've seen Depeche Mode about twenty times over the years, a bunch of great shows that have all been enjoyable and exciting, but this date at Wembley stands out as a perfect mixture of great songs, an enthusiastic audience, and the band's own excitement, all contributing to an excellent performance that's stayed with me for years. Definitely one of, if not the best time that I've ever seen them play. If only there was an official video released from that night...

November 18th 2021, Rosegarden Funeral Party at Lee's Palace

 

 

A recurring theme in this blog, one that's appeared many times even as recently as earlier this week, has been the idea of discovery in a concert setting, that moment where you hear an opening artist for the first time, or where you have a new realization about how much you enjoy an artist. That sense of discovery has been a key element in my enjoyment of live music going back to the earliest shows that I attended as a teenager, and it's part of why I'm still going to shows all these years later. I'm always excited to hear something new, to find a new favorite band, it's part of what keeps live music so fresh, so exciting.

I was first introduced to Rosegarden Funeral Party when I saw them opening for Clan of Xymox at a rescheduled show at Lee's Palace in November 2019, one of those concert discoveries that instantly clicked and appealed to my musical sensibilities. Their set was an impressive blend of passion and talent, a near perfect mixture of Trad Goth and Punk aesthetics that worked perfectly in a live setting. They were a tight and ferocious quartet, and you could tell that they had sharpened their skills over countless gigs and innumerable hours of rehearsal. Guitarist and singer Leah Lane particularly stood out as fiercely talented, leading the band with blistering guitar work that stands as some of the best I've ever seen, and delivering vocals with a sincere and emotional power that suggest a true belief in the songs being played. Rosegarden Funeral Party played a wicked good set that evening and I pretty much signed on as a fan then and there, happily identifying as a Rosegardner, or a Funeral Partier ever since...

Needless to say, Rosegarden Funeral Party haven't been able to make it back to Toronto in the last couple of years, but during the pandemic they've been busy in the studio, releasing a number of singles along with a series of videos under the banner Take Cover featuring the band and guests playing tribute to David Bowie, Pulp, OMD and others. And in the absence of live shows, these offerings have maintained and further developed my interest in them through the long months of lockdowns and isolation, earning Rosegarden Funeral Party a well-deserved spot as one of my favorite new bands of the last couple of years.

While another Toronto show may still be a little way off, Rosegarden Funeral Party have recently announced the release of a new album in December of this year, to be celebrated at a show at the Granada Theatre in Dallas where they'll play the album in its entirety along with the full series of Take Cover songs. It promises to be a great evening of music, and hopefully the band will be inspired to take that show on the road, because I'd love to see them play a live version of Bowie's Bring Me the Disco King...

November 16th 2019, Eisbaer Night Two at The Garrison and Kaelan Mikla at the Dakota Tavern

 

The second night of Eisbaer 2019 was lined up for Saturday November 16th at the Garrison, and coincidentally Kaelan Mikla and Solstafir had also been booked for a showcase gig that same night at the Dakota Tavern around the corner as part of the Rejkjavik Calling series. Kaelan Mikla had never played in Toronto before and I had been waiting a while to see them, so I suggested to my friend Ryan that we should try and hit both venues for a two show/five band night. Unfortunately there were no advance tickets for the Rejkjavik show, so we had to line up in advance around 5pm which made for a long wait outside during that bitter mid-November period when winter has finally made it's arrival but there's no snow on the ground to insulate against the chill of the wind. 

Despite the weather we were committed to our mission though, and around 7pm we were able to get into the Dakota. Ryan and I were rewarded for our perseverance with a spot right at the front of the stage for Kaelan Mikla's set, so we were pretty pleased with everything when the band came out and started their first song. They sounded amazing, howling vocals over a haunting bass and synth driven noise that conjured images of banshees and late night rituals. It was intense and unsettling and absolutely awesome, but it was also the only song they were able to play. A bad flu had been following the band around the last couple of weeks prior to the Toronto date and that combined with exhaustion from their tour meant that the lead singer wasn't able to continue with the show. That kind of thing can't be helped and I felt really badly for the band, but I'm glad that they took the opportunity to rest and take care of themselves. I have faith that Kaelan Mikla will make it back to Toronto again sometime in the future, and you can be sure that I'll be there when they do.

With the extra time in the schedule Solstafir opted to do an extended set rather than the showcase they had originally planned for, and I was really impressed by them. I had never heard them before but they played an awesome show, very Metal, and the lead singer played a flying V so that gave them extra Metal credibility points in my mind. Definitely another great musical discovery for me from that weekend.

After Solstafir's set we went around the corner to the Garrison, and made it just in time for Black Dresses' set at Eisbaer and they were incredible. Proudly declared "Punk as Fuck" by headliners Adult., Black Dresses were raw, intense, and all sorts of amazing, playing with the energy and passion that comes from a true love and belief in what they're doing. Absolutely incredible stuff that was a total  highlight among all of the acts that I saw that weekend.

Dreamcrusher were up next and I was completely blown away when they gave one of the most powerful shows I've seen in a while. Immersing the venue completely in darkness for the start of their set, a quiet mix of opening tracks abruptly shifted to a burst of stark strobe lighting that pulsed aggressively while Dreamcrusher stalked the stage delivering a raw and bloodcurdling vocal performance. This was Theatre of Confrontation at it's best, a physically demanding and immersive live experience that shook me right down to my core. Having seen this performance at Eisbaer I would totally recommend that if you ever have the chance to experience Dreamcrusher live that you really should check them out... 

Adult. closed the night with a senses shattering set of Dark Electronic that fully captured why they're universally recognized as legends in the genre. Pulse pounding intensely controlled mayhem at its very best, Adult. have never really been a band that I've felt comfortable describing, they're more an act that you have to experience for yourself, and their performance at Eisbaer 2019 was an incredible experience to say the least. As I write this they've just announced a new album and tour for 2022, and while there's no Toronto gig scheduled yet I'm optimistic that they'll make their way through the city again at some point. Definitely a band I'm looking forward to seeing again.

So yeah, that was night two of Eisbaer 2019, an excellent conclusion to an excellent festival, one that I'm hoping we'll see again in 2022. We've always been very lucky to have a lot of exciting musical events happening in Toronto, and as we slowly ease back into the swing of things in our current Post-Pandemic world I hope that we'll see more well-curated shows like this make a return, and that there will be more opportunities to both revel in the excitement of seeing legendary artists perform and to discover new ones as well...

November 15th 2021, Eisbaer Night One at The Garrison

 

I've always appreciated the idea of a good music festival. A well curated collection of artists can be a rewarding concert experience, and it's often proven to be a great opportunity for discovery as well, introducing the audience to other artists that they may not have been aware of before. When it's done well it can be an excellent time, and the Eisbaer event at the Garrison on November 15th and 16th was an especially excellent time. Spread out over two nights the event featured a solid mix of local and touring artists with a wide range of styles and it gave me a good opportunity to see some bands I already knew as well as introduce me to some others that have become fast favorites. 

I went to the first night with my friend Carrie, and while it has absolutely nothing to do with the show, I feel the need to point out that on the drive over we saw a possum. I don't think I've ever seen one before, so that was pretty cool. I hesitate to say that possums are cute and cuddly, but there was a certain warrior's heart being displayed in this little beastie when it hissed at us, so I'm going to say that possums get two thumbs up from me for having both Edge and Attitude...

Anyway, I went to the first night with my friend Carrie, and it was a solid evening of entertainment. We got there early enough that we were able to get seats on the raised west side of the Garrison, close enough to the stage that we could see everything with a little bit of elevation, so that was good. Up first was Lee Paradise, who played a kinda funky and kinda synth-y set of Manchester-y groovy goodness. I had never heard them before, but I was impressed and the overall effect had me nodding my head and doing that little shuffly dance that I do in crowds at shows. They were really good.

The second act was Automatic and I had discovered them on Bandcamp a little while before so I was looking forward to a solid set of Retro Futurist Minimal Post-Punk Pop, and they totally delivered on that promise. Their set built on the short sharp staccato sound of their studio material and stretched out the songs into grooves that really opened up the musical space. I really like Automatic, and I hope that I'll have the chance to see them again sometime soon.

Black Marble played last and they played an awesome set, with the kind of velvet-y vocals and processed guitar that whirls and swirls and makes my heart swoon, a blend of Shoegaze and Pop sensibility that really appeals and inspires. It was an excellent set of songs and a great way to end the first night of the festival.

Over the years that I've known her, Carrie and I have often talked about the idea of Perfect Moments, those times where you feel a certain bliss just existing in a state of calm and happiness for whatever reason. I don't think we actually declared it as such at the time, but in hindsight I'm kind of thinking that drive home after night one of Eisbaer was a Perfect Moment. We didn't see any more possums on our drive back, but it had been a great night of music and both of us were riding that post-concert wave that happens after a really great show, and it just felt really good to be alive and to have spent an awesome night out with one of my favorite people. 

I think that definitely qualifies as a Perfect Moment...

November 13th 2021, Odonis Odonis at The Garrison

 

I went to see Odonis Odonis last night at The Garrison, and it was an awesome show on a number of levels. The band sounded great, and new tracks like Shadowplay and Impossible were excellent live. And to be in a space with others listening to music? It was... pretty amazing. I've missed that a lot. I mean, A LOT. The absence of live music has left a hole in my heart over the last twenty-ish months, and it's an incredible feeling to be able to experience it again. Thank you to Odonis Odonis, Transmit Presents, and The Garrison for putting on this show and for continuing to celebrate the joy and excitement of live performance. 

November 13th 2021, Bjork at the Opera House

I became a fan of The Sugarcubes when they put out "Life's Too Good" in 1988, a collection of eclectic and alien songs that were strangely compelling. It was an album that ran a gamut of moods and feelings, moving deftly between the joyful celebration of Birthday and the unsettling unease of Coldsweat with a skill that many bands at the time couldn't dream of. Over the course of the next few years The Sugarcubes released a handful of albums that challenged Pop ideals and aesthetics, randomly releasing tracks that were willfully obscure or brilliantly resonant until they broke up in 1992. 

You'd think that their break up would be the end of the story, but a year later lead singer Bjork released her first solo album "Debut", and, well, that kind of suggested that The Sugarcubes were the prequel to a whole different story. To say that "Debut" is anything less than a perfect blend of sounds and styles is an understatement. The entire album was immediately accessible and appealing, quirky yet connective, slick and sleek and thoroughly awesome, a bold new sound that laid the foundation for Bjork to be recognized as a significant and relevant artist who's distinct and unique work would continue to develop over the course of the next few decades.

It's impossible to imagine that she would have known where her solo career would take her at that point, but there was no question that Bjork was completely confident and sure of herself when she came to Toronto in support of the album. Her show at the Opera House was an excellent study in the mechanics of live performance featuring a complete run through the album along with a stunning version of Play Dead taken from a soundtrack that was released around the same time. She jumped around wildly during a spirited performance of Violently Happy, and during the instrumental parts in Big Time Sensuality she charged head first at her band members like a bull. It was a great show on a variety of levels, but most importantly it ably demonstrated Bjork's vast talent and creativity, one of her first steps as a solo artist on a unique and exciting musical journey that continues to this day...

November 12th 1990, Iggy Pop at The Concert Hall

It kind of feels like this blog would be missing something if I didn't have a post about Iggy Pop. Over the years I've seen him a few times and he always puts on an incredible show, a display of flailing limbs and raw energy, but it was the first time I saw him at the Concert Hall in 1990 that stands out the most to me. I went with Brooke and I feel like our friend Liz was there too and we had a good view of the stage from the balcony on the left side. Alice in Chains opened the night and I think this was the first time they played in Toronto, just before Grunge had really broke. They put on an awesome show, with low deep bass and brooding vocals and I was inspired to buy their first album the next day. Great stuff...

But as good as Alice in Chains were as openers, it was Iggy Pop that we were there to see and true to form he played an awesome set. He had a boundless enthusiasm, literally hopping to the centre of the stage at the start of the show, and then bouncing and contorting and shaking his thang all through the rest of the night. I'm pretty sure that he had some kind of vest on when he started, but by the end of the first song he was definitely shirtless, and, well, that's kind of what you expect at an Iggy Pop show, so it had that going for it.

He played a bunch of songs from his new album at the time, "Brick by Brick" and they were all fine, but it was the older songs that really stood out for me. My initial introduction to Iggy Pop years prior had been through the Bowie produced "Lust for Life" and "The Idiot", so I was happy to hear a handful of tracks from those two albums, and of course he played a bunch of songs from The Stooges, and they were all kinds of raw and grimy and passionate and awesome. I feel strongly that everybody should see a live version of I Wanna Be Your Dog at least once in their lives, and if there's the chance to see Search and Destroy played too then that's even better. My thinking is that any opportunity to discover the street walkin' cheetah with a heart full of napalm that lives inside of all of us is a good opportunity...

November 10th 1990, Skinny Puppy at The Concert Hall

 

In many ways Skinny Puppy were a revelation for me, an introduction to a new world of sound and the way that music could be made. Where a lot of the music being released in the mid- to late-eighties followed typical song structures and conventional instrumentation, Skinny Puppy pushed the boundaries of those forms, applying new ideas and approaches that spoke to a new ideal. They had a much more expansive sense of how sounds and samples could be used in their work, and they actively challenged the way people thought about music. There's no question in my mind that Skinny Puppy were different from any of the other bands that I was listening to at the time.

Yet even despite that difference in sound, they existed within an interesting era when Canadian content rules meant that radio stations were required to play a certain amount of Canadian music, and since Skinny Puppy were from Vancouver that meant they got a fair bit of radio play which contributed to a familiarity and popularity that may not have been as possible elsewhere or elsewhen. I'm not saying that they were at the top of the charts hanging around with Madonna and New Kids on the Block, but they were getting regular play and building a solid audience that were looking for something new.

The size of that audience meant that Skinny Puppy were able to play some pretty decent sized shows, including a pair of gigs at the Concert Hall in Toronto in 1990. I went to see them on the November 10th show with my friend Dave, and from our view on the right side of the balcony it was unlike any other show I had been to up to that point in my life. An eclectic and increasingly disparate wave of sounds washed over the crowd like a dark flood, while Nivek Ogre alternately growled and screamed and intoned lyrics with a sinister menace. There were scratchy distorted videos that played behind the band, and there was a dark tree on stage with claw-like branches.swaying and reaching out to the audience. They played Tin Omen and Worlock and I think that this was the tour where they debuted the Stilt Man routine with Ogre stalking around the stage on prosthetic stilts. It was all rather overwhelming, but it was also rather brilliant, an apocalyptic blend of sound and theatre and madness unlike anything I had ever seen before...  

Skinny Puppy's mad brilliance influenced a lot of people, and in the years following I saw tons of bands trying to capture the same kind of sound and style to varying levels of success. Some of them were able to reach similar heights, and some of them not so much, but I've always appreciated those efforts, that desire to bring together ideas in new ways that challenge our notions about what music should sound like and what performance should look like. I guess that idea plays a large part in my interest in seeing live music. Performance is always moving forward, always pushing boundaries, always trying to do something new, and Skinny Puppy completely embodied that idea with their work, opening doors for countless others to follow through, and while they may not have been the first band to do so, they were among the first to make me think about performance in new and different ways, and I'll always be grateful for them opening my mind to those possibilities...

November 4th 1993, Nirvana at Maple Leaf Gardens

As far as I know, Nirvana only came to Toronto for three gigs. The first was a club date at Lee's Palace in support of the "Bleach" album before Dave Grohl joined the band, and history and legend have conspired together to make that show kind of notorious, with bottles thrown and glass on the floor. I wasn't there but by all accounts it was pretty epic. The second show was at the Opera House around the release of "Nevermind" during that sweet spot in their career where people knew who they were but they hadn't quite exploded yet. My friend Brooke asked me if I wanted to go and foolishly I said no, but since then whatever excuse I might have had at the time is long forgotten to me and I've kicked myself repeatedly for having missed it. Brooke could tell you better, but I've heard that it was a pretty wicked gig.

But I did see them at Maple Leaf Gardens in support of "In Utero". Having missed the Opera House show I was determined to see them this time around, and they were every bit as awesome as their reputation would suggest. It was a short show, I don't remember it being any more than maybe an hour and a half with encores, but that hour and a half was packed with an impressive energy and passion. They played a dark and ominously heavy run through  Heart Shaped Box that built on all of the menace and paranoia of the album version, and All Apologies was a great song to end the set before the encores. The night was pretty evenly divided between tracks from "In Utero" and "Nevermind", with a couple of covers and one or two songs from "Bleach", a pretty solid overview of their career to that point. They didn't play Smells Like Teen Spirit, and more than a few people were grumbling about that after the show, but in hindsight it makes a lot of sense that they wouldn't have. Nirvana were so much more than just that one song, and the fact that they could play a great show without playing their biggest hit is an impressive testimony to the quality of their work and to their strength as a band...

October 29th 2019, The KVB at The Garrison

 

The KVB have a glorious shuffling Retro-Futurist sound to them, a guitar and synth based duo that create an immense wall of sound live. They're a little bit Shoegaze and a little bit Post-Punk, and a whole lot of Awesome, and I thought that their Toronto debut at The Garrison on October 29th 2019 was pretty amazing. The show had originally been scheduled for March of that year at The Baby G, so an extra seven months of anticipation ensured that I was pressed up tight at the very front when the show finally happened. Over the course of an hour and a half they played an excellent set featuring tracks from their current album at the time "Only Now Forever" along with some older earlier stuff that I really enjoyed hearing. I'd been a fan for a while by that point and had been waiting a few years for them to make it out live, and I'm happy to say that the show was well worth the wait. 

They have a new album coming out on November 26th and I'm hoping that will mean another tour. I'd gladly see them again, and if they make it to your town I'd strongly recommend that you check them out. It's very apparent from their live shows that The KVB love doing what they do, and any opportunity to share in that love is an opportunity that should definitely be taken...

October 25th 1988, Siouxsie and the Banshees at Massey Hall

I have a tremendous respect and admiration for Siouxsie and the Banshees, not only for their music but also for their bravery. Listening through their career there's a consistent fearlessness that allowed them to define their work on their own terms and avoid being categorized. As a fan that bravery and fearlessness have always been coupled in my mind with the ideas of potential and possibility and living life on one's own terms, which are a pretty liberating set of ideas if you ask me.

As members of the mid 70s UK Punk scene, Siouxsie Sioux and Steven Severin played a significant role in developing the fashion and style of the era before becoming musicians, helping to establish a vital and important sub-culture that continues to influence music, art, fashion, and attitudes even today. Simultaneously, they were also contributing to a redefinition of artist and audience roles, creating an environment where the audience became just as much a part of the performance as the artists were, adding to the spectacle and contributing to an aesthetic. Through their embodiment of Punk's Do It Yourself ethic, Siouxsie and Severin led a shift that would give rise to a new musical paradigm where roles and influence were fluid and interchangeable, a paradigm which was fully realized when Sioux and Severin formed the Banshees to fill an empty spot opening for The Clash and the Sex Pistols at a show at the 100 Club in London. Despite never having played live before, despite not even having any songs to perform, that evening the newly born Banshees displayed a bravery and confidence in themselves born from this new ideal, and that bravery and confidence would carry through the rest of their career as their work shifted and evolved, helping to define them as innovative performers who pushed the boundaries of what they were doing, all the while inspiring generations after them to do the same.

I'll admit, I got to the Banshees' party pretty late. The suburbs of Toronto were about five billion light years away from the streets of London during the height of the UK Punk scene, and y'know, I had just started grade school at the time, so I missed out on that debut show at the 100 Club. In fact, I missed pretty much all of the Banshees career up until one night in 1983 when I was sitting up late watching City Limits and out of the blue the video for Dear Prudence began to play. I already knew the song from The Beatles, but there was something so beautiful and mysterious about the Banshees' version, something that made it just *that* much better. Siouxsie Sioux's vocals had an emotional quality that added to the lyrics, making the song all the more appealing. The instrumentation had a more psychedelic quality to it, something alien and mystical, much darker and lush than The Beatles. Dare I say it? I think, and I still do think, that the Banshees' version of Dear Prudence is better that the original. The video was pretty cool too, with Sioux and Severin and Budgie and Robert Smith all slinking around the back alleys of Venice. There was a sparkle to the video, a particular playfulness that I really liked, and it also called back to David Bowie's video for Ashes to Ashes, with negative images and blobs of flowing colour popping up every so often while the band crept around. I was pretty impressed, and I immediately started trying to find out more about the Banshees. A cassette copy of Once Upon a Time quickly brought me up to speed on the broad strokes of the band's career, an introduction to the glory of Christine and Spellbound, the majesty of Israel, the deceptive playfulness of Happy House, and everything else on that tape.

It would take me a while to find more of their work as much of their catalog wasn't available domestically in Canada at the time, but I stuck to it and was able to track down the rest of the Banshees' catalog after considerable effort. And every one of those albums was a wonder, a marvel, something to be cherished. Admittedly, Kaleidoscope and Juju were my favorites, followed closely by The Scream and Kiss in the Dreamhouse, and then Nocturne and Hyaena (though I continue to have a soft spot for Dear Prudence), and then finally Join Hands. Alright, I'll admit, I'm not too big on Join Hands even now, but y'know, it's an okay album, I just don't enjoy it as much as the rest of their catalog.

Anyway, parallel to my efforts to collect the band's albums, I also found out a little bit more about the Banshees history and where they came from. I heard about their days as music fans and how that led to their first gig, and how they eventually became the band that I would become so enamored with. And that history was soooooooo exciting to me! The idea that a music fan could make the switch from audience member to performer was completely inspiring, opening a world of possibilities and wonder with huge possibilities for the future. Long time readers of this blog will know that I've written extensively about how David Bowie helped me come to terms with myself as a person, how he helped me find an identity and accept myself for who I am. And running alongside that the Banshees helped me realize that I didn't have to accept who I was at face value. The Banshees taught me that I could do anything if I was brave enough to try. And the freedom and liberation that came from that realization was staggering, an incredibly exhilarating realization that made me dizzy with possibilities.

But you know, despite everything that the Banshees meant to me, and despite the dizzying possibilities they inspired, I didn't get around to seeing them until 1988. I know that they came to Toronto at least twice between my discovering them and then, but for whatever reason I didn't go to those shows and I really can't say why. In retrospect it seems like a really significant oversight in my concert going history, and I'm kind of kicking myself for it.

I finally got around to seeing Siouxsie and the Banshees live in 1988, and they were amazing. Like, totally awesomely fucking amazing. They had just released the Peepshow album in September of that year, and it was a radiant and beautiful album that equaled Kaleidoscope and Juju in my mind, a collection of brilliant songs that all resonated with me on a variety of different frequencies. I was fascinated by Peek-A-Boo and all of it's backwards and forwards distorted accordion looping genius. I loved the string-y elegance of The Killing Jar, and the harmonica driven country twang of Burn-Up. The stately beauty of The Last Beat of My Heart brought me to tears on more than one occasion, and then there was Rhapsody, which stands as my very favorite Banshees song of all time, six and a half minutes of Siouxsie singing Severin's poignant lyrics with near-operatic perfection. I mean, really, the album is a fucking masterpiece, truly a highlight in their impressive career. So thinking about it now in retrospect, maybe it was a good thing that I waited until 1988 to see them live, because it may well have been my best opportunity to do so. Extensive concert-going experience would suggest that a band with a strong album will usually do a strong show, and there's no question that Peepshow is one of the strongest albums in The Banshees' career.

The show was scheduled for late October at Massey Hall, which is one of my favorite places to see a show in Toronto. It's a small-ish theatre that holds about 2500 people, much more intimate and better acoustics than the majority of Toronto venues. I had a ticket in the fifth row on the right side of the orchestra, and that was pretty much the perfect place to be sitting, as it was close enough to see the band in detail but also far enough away to appreciate the spectacle and theatricality of the performance.

When I got there, a large curtain covered the entire stage, and as the lights went down the band marched out from behind it to the front of the stage and began a stripped down version of The Last Beat of My Heart. It was such a simple way to start the show, so elegant and understated, and I think that it worked far more effectively than something more flashy and show-y would have. From the start there was a sense of intimacy created, a sense of the band playing "with" you rather than "to" you. I suppose I'm probably projecting my own thoughts about the band on top of everything else here, but it was an opening that really made a connection with the audience, and I really liked that.

The Banshees all looked particularly stylish that evening, with flashy clothes, long tailored jackets, hats, kind of a vaguely surreal Victorian look. Siouxsie wore a top hat, her hair was cut in a bob at the time, and the resulting effect was quite sophisticated. Martin McCarrick wore a vest, and he might have had a top hat as well. I'm pretty sure that Jon Klein wore a leather cap, and he looked very long and insectile, almost spider-like. Budgie wore a top-knot on his head and that was about all I could see of him when he was behind his drum kit, bobbing along in time with the music. I'm afraid I can't remember exactly what Steven Severin wore, I'm pretty sure he had a waist coat, but I worry that I might be confusing that evening with one of the other Banshee shows I'd see in later years. For the purposes of setting the scene let's assume that he wore a blue waist coat and go with that. Whatever he wore, I remember that he looked very dashing that evening.

After opening the set, The Banshees returned behind the curtain while Siouxsie stayed out front to sing Turn to Stone. She commanded the stage, moving from side to side, her voice rising and falling with the lyrics. She did this arm swaying thing that looked like she was summoning spirits, and it really added to the effect of her presence. Siouxsie has always had an incredible stage presence.

Following that, the curtain swept away to reveal a white scrim that The Banshees played behind for The Killing Jar. Bright lights shone from the back of the stage so elongated shadows of the band were projected during the song. Martin McCarrick sat on the side of the stage playing cello-y goodness throughout, and his shadow was particularly prominent. Such a simple but brilliant effect.

At the end of the song the stage was revealed, filled with ramps and bridges and catwalks and multi-leveled places to slink and strut and do all that wonderful stuff. As I write this I'm actually wondering how complex it was, because the practical side of my brain is wondering how much you could really fit on the stage at Massey Hall, but the emotional nostalgic side of my brain is yelling at the top of it's brain-y lungs "IT WAS HUUUUUGE!!!! GINORMOUS!!!!! ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY GIANT!!!!!!!" It's hard to argue with that kind of surety. Anyways, it was a very cool set, and the band used it to slink and strut and do all that wonderful stuff as they ran through Christine, Wheels on Fire and a bunch of other great songs. During Rawhead and Bloodybones Siouxsie sang from under a bridge, adding to the claustrophobic quality of the song. They played an amazing version of Red Light with blinding red spotlights that flashed in time with the shutter click of the song, and during Peek-A-Boo, Siouxsie led Martin McCarrick and his accordion on a merry chase around the whole stage. It was all very cool.

They closed the set with a stunning run through Rhapsody that delivered on all of the strength and beauty of the album version while blue skies and clouds were projected in the background. I remember the power that I felt when Siouxsie sang the line "We can dream all we want to...", giving voice to everything I had felt about the Banshees and the inspiration they had given me. It was kind of a moment, y'know? Thinking about that performance I still get chills...

There were two encores that night, the first featuring a manic run through El Dia De Los Muertos from the Killing Jar single, and then an extended and epic version of Spellbound that lasted for almost ten minutes, with the band all stretching out their parts to breathe new life into one of their best songs. They closed the night with Israel and it was everything I could hope for, Siouxsie's voice still in perfect form even after having played for a couple of hours beforehand. A lovely way to end the evening.

The Peepshow tour stands as a personal favorite show for a variety of reasons, and I'm really glad I got to see Siouxsie and The Banshees on that tour. There was a tremendous energy and a sense of wonder in their performance that night in 1988, and I think I got a little taste of what The Banshees may have been like at the 100 Club when they played their very first show back in the mid 70s. Cool, confident, passionate, like they could do anything if they were brave enough to try...

October 24th 1994, Killing Joke at the Opera House

Killing Joke's show at the Opera House in 1994 was excellent, a monstrous wall of Post Punk/Goth brilliance performed by a group of legends who had made a huge impact on a variety of musical genres. Touring in support of the "Pandemonium" album, the show brought together the original line up of Jaz Coleman, Geordie Walker, and Youth for the first time in years, and they were an intensely tight and dynamic unit even despite having not played with each other for so long, a tremendous indication of their individual talents and their chemistry as a group. 

The show opened with the three of them walking in a line onto the stage to much applause, with Coleman wearing a large black jester's hat with bells that bobbed and shook as he walked and his eyes were lined with thick layers of kohl. It was a particularly sinister look that was more than a little unsettling, and I distinctly remember turning to my friend Bevin and telling her that I was kind of scared of him. By the end of the first song the jester's hat had been ripped off and the kohl had run in streaks down Coleman's face like tears, giving his eyes a bleeding look that was still kind of scary but looked absolutely awesome.

As far as reunion shows go it was different from the approach that most bands take where they stick to the nostalgic side of things and play old hits from back in the day. Instead Killing Joke chose to focus on their new reunion album, playing most of "Pandemonium" with a few classics thrown in, and in retrospect I think that was the best choice they could have made. This wasn't a reunion designed to celebrate past achievements, this was an effort to continue and build on their legacy, and that meant moving forward with new material that was just as strong as their earlier efforts. Newer songs like Millennium and Pandemonium all sounded great, vital and monstrous and really heavy, mixing well with older songs like Love Like Blood, Requiem and others, crafting a consistently solid show that highlighted their skill as a group and the ways that their individual talents complimented each other so well. 

It was an excellent show, a great performance that impressed me on a variety of levels, and I'll always remember it for the band's confidence and strength in their delivery, and how they didn't need to rely on the hits to be awesome...

October 19th 1994, Oasis at Lee's Palace

Oasis' first show in Toronto at Lee's Palace in 1994 has kind of a legendary status among fans, a band poised on the edge of stardom playing a small venue following the release of their first album just before they made it big. I'll admit though that based on the strength of that show I wouldn't have expected them to become as popular as they did. 

 

I had enjoyed the Supersonic single when it was released, and they were getting a lot of good press in the UK music papers so I was curious to check them out, but the show just didn't appeal to me. They were pretty static, not very dynamic, and to be honest I thought that they were kind of boring. Admittedly though, the live version of Supersonic was kind of great and they closed out the show with a really good cover of I am the Walrus, which was kind of a gutsy choice and sounded pretty cool. 

 

Certainly not the worst show I've ever seen, but definitely not one of the best. Admittedly I was always more of a Blur fan myself, so maybe the experience was just lost on me?

October 5th 2019, Ladytron at the Danforth Music Hall

Looking back over my collection of concert tickets, it seems like October has been a particularly good month for seeing Ladytron in Toronto, with at least three separate gigs happening that month over the years. I've been a fan of them since I stumbled across their debut "604" back in 2001, and I've always made a point of seeing them perform whenever I've had the chance. In my mind Ladytron exists in a similar space as Curve and Lush and Interpol, making music that transcends format and style, creating their own unique musical niche. I really appreciate their Retro-Futurist sound, their blend of electronic and organic elements, and their strong songwriting skills which sneakily subvert the Pop music format in interesting and creative new ways.

Ladytron's most recent visit to Toronto was a stop at the Danforth Music Hall on October 5th 2019 in support of their self-titled sixth album, and it was their first show in the city since they played at the Phoenix back in 2011. Given the length of time between shows, the band wisely chose a set list that largely alternated between songs from the new album and fan favorites, all of them working together nicely to present a solid overview of the band's career. They opened the night with Black Cat, as they have for many of their shows over the years, and then they followed it with The Island which would have been their most recent single at the time. As the show moved forward they played Ghosts, Runaway, The Animals, Fighting in Built up Areas and more, all of which were well received by the crowd who spent most of the night singing and dancing along with the band.

They saved Seventeen and Destroy Everything You Touch for last, an encore of their most popular tracks to end the night on a high note. And it really was a high note, it was a great show, an excellent performance inspired by the synergy between audience and performer, and as Carolyn and I left the venue and made our way along Danforth towards the subway we were filled with smiles and that post-show glow that always comes from a great concert. 

My experience has been that Ladytron never disappoint in a live setting, they're always pretty awesome, and this show at the Music Hall fully lived up to and surpassed my expectations. Definitely a band that I'm grateful to have seen so many times in the past, and one that I very much look forward to seeing again in the future...

September 28th 2019, Nick Cave at Convocation Hall

 

When my friend Carrie and I went to see Nick Cave at Convocation Hall in 2019 we were treated to a very different experience from past shows that he'd performed in the city. More than just a concert, Cave had structured the evening as a solo piano performance paired with a conversation with the audience, offering people the opportunity to ask him questions and speak directly with him about anything they wanted. Following the format of his Red Hand Files website, Cave listened to people's queries and answered them in a thoughtful and considered way, offering insights, advice, telling stories, and sharing his thoughts. It was a pretty special night, a rare opportunity to have a candid discussion with an inspired and inspiring artist.

Over the course of a couple of hours Cave played stunning solo voice and piano renditions of The Weeping Song and Jubilee Street and more, even taking a few requests like Into My Arms for a couple who had played it at their wedding. From that standpoint it was a stunning performance, a truly beautiful night of music, but it was when Cave spoke to the audience that really inspired, that really captured the imagination. He told stories of his early days as a musician and songwriter, he spoke candidly about his failed relationship with PJ Harvey, and he spoke about love, and grief, and loss. It was his thoughts on grief that resonated the most with the room, talking openly about the death of his son a couple of years prior, speaking to us very honestly about his experiences dealing with that pain. And in doing so, he naturally created a safe space for others to share their experiences, and it slowly dawned on me that there aren't many opportunities for people to speak about grief and loss with others, it's not something that we do very often. And I suppose that many of the people in the audience had the same realization, and when the chance was offered to them they took the opportunity to speak and share in ways that were very sincere and open, and probably more honest about their feelings than they would normally have been. 

The whole show was really quite a moving experience, a powerful and emotional night that transcended the concert format and became something else that was much more personal. I respect and admire Cave for opening up that kind of dialogue with his audience, and for speaking in a way that encourages both reflection and thought. It's not something that happens very often, and I applaud Cave for taking that kind of risk as an artist, for baring so much of his self and for encouraging others to do the same...

September 27th and 28th 1997, David Bowie at The Warehouse

I was very lucky to have had the opportunity to see David Bowie play live a few times. Some good shows, some amazing shows, and a few shows that weren't really so great in my mind, but all of them were special to me in some way as a fan. And as a fan, I would have to count the shows that he played at the Warehouse in 1997 as two of the most special performances that I saw him do, a couple of intimate club dates where he played two amazing sets.

It was during the "Earthling" tour, a period where Bowie had embraced the Drum 'n' Bass scene and other electronic elements in a continuation of the career renaissance that had begun with the release of "Outside" a couple of years prior. After a long period of lacklustre albums in the eighties and early nineties, Bowie had finally seemed to have rediscovered his groove, and you could tell from interviews and performances from around the time that he was excited about making music again. That excitement led him to record some great albums including 1997's "Earthling", and when he announced a tour in support of that record I was totally on board for the opportunity to hear it performed live. 

But the appeal of the "Earthling" tour wasn't just the chance to see Bowie live again, it was also about the size of the venue he'd be playing in. This wasn't going to be a big stadium show, or even an arena sized concert, this was a club gig, an audience of only about a couple thousand people and that made it an event. By that point I had already seen him play shows from up close, but those had been at larger spaces where Bowie was still working with that old theatre ideal of making grand gestures because you're playing to the back row. The appeal of the "Earthling" dates was the chance to see a more focused performance, something up close and personal. 

I was able to score a single for each of the two nights, and on the Saturday show I tagged along with my friend Nat who remains one of my most favorite people and a solid Bowie fan to this day. Nat and some other friends and I met up at my place on Queen Street before the show so we could take a cab over to the Warehouse together, and when we told our driver that we were going to see David Bowie he got very excited, telling us that he had gone to school with Iman and that she was very kind and a good student. Nat and I took that to be a good sign for the show to come and we spent the rest of the ride asking him questions about Iman which he was all too happy to answer. It should be noted that even now, twenty five years later, Nat and I still remember that taxi driver who was probably the best driver that either of us have ever ridden with.

We got to the Warehouse shortly before the show started and found a space roughly central to the stage towards the back in a slightly raised area that gave us a nice perspective for the whole band. And just as we got settled in, Bowie walked out on stage with little or no warning, an acoustic guitar over his shoulder and a quick launch into Quicksand from the "Hunky Dory" album. Not a choice that I ever would have guessed to open the show with, but a welcome treat just the same. But that wasn't the only surprise of the night, 'cause he continued the set with The Supermen, Queen Bitch, Panic in Detroit, and a cover of Waiting for the Man by the Velvet Underground before he got around to anything from "Earthling". Bowie did a great job of linking sounds and themes within the set, with the new material working well with a selection of reworked older tracks, and true to his promise to retire the hits after the Sound+Vision tour in 1990, Bowie filled the setlist with mostly choice rarities and deep cuts with a few exceptions for Fame and The Jean Genie.

It was a great night of music, and the band that Bowie had assembled for this tour was particularly strong, with Gail Anne Dorsey on bass, Mike Garson on keyboards, Zachary Alford on drums, and Reeves Gabrels on guitar, all of them veteran players who had a rich history of playing with Bowie. Dorsey shone particularly brightly that night with some tight playing, singing duets with Bowie on Under Pressure and a cover of Laurie Anderson's O Superman, both of which spoke to her impressive vocal talents. Gabrels was on fire too, an amazing guitarist with a distinct and unique sound that defined a lot of Bowie's work up to that point in the nineties. Alford was the perfect live drummer for the pulse of the new material, and of course Mike Garson is always awesome, a steady companion throughout most of Bowie's career. Bowie's voice was in fine form this tour, and as suggested earlier it really felt like he was excited to be there, excited to have reconnected with his work. That excitement, that reconnection made it a particularly great time to see Bowie in concert.

After such a great show on the Saturday night, I had pretty high hopes for the Sunday show, and I'm happy to say that it lived up to my expectations and then some. I went by myself and I ended up walking to the Warehouse so no taxi driver telling stories about Iman and no Nat to listen to me obsess over how he hadn't played X song since the Diamond Dogs tour, but it was still pretty great. Bowie changed the set list up a bit including a jaunty run through My Death and a rare performance of Strangers When We Meet, which is one of my favorite tracks from "Outside", so that was pretty cool. He closed the Sunday night show with Moonage Daydream, and of course he was an alligator and we all kept our electric eyes on him, and we all freaked out as was to be expected. 

There's no question that seeing Bowie in a small venue was pretty special. My experience has always been that there's something about smaller shows that inspires a greater connection between artist and audience, a sense of intimacy that often makes for a better performance. I expect that part of that has to do with actually being able to see the audience, a better opportunity to create some kind of synergy between the artist and the crowd, and I would expect that the synergy from smaller audiences went a long way towards inspiring Bowie's return to form in the nineties and beyond. A club tour was definitely the way to go for him to reconnect and to be re-energized by his music, and the albums that would follow definitely benefit from Bowie's revitalized attitude...