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...

September 22nd 1987, Pink Floyd at CNE Stadium

In addition to seeing Roger Waters in 1987, I also had the opportunity to see Pink Floyd about a month later. David Gilmour, Nick Mason, and Rick Wright were on the road to support their first album as a trio, "A Momentary Lapse of Reason", and the tour included three sold out nights at CNE Stadium. This would have been their first tour to come to Toronto in years, probably since the seventies, so there were a lot of people who wanted to see them given the near-mythological status they had gained thanks to a steady rotation on local radio like Q107 and CHUM-FM. I was pretty excited about seeing the show having spent countless hours actively listening to "The Wall" and "Animals" on headphones, zoned out with the lights off in my bedroom. There was something so immersive about those albums, something cinematic and immense that really appealed.  

Ticket sales for the show were months ahead of the actual date, so the build up leading to the concert was huge, ages spent looking forward to finally seeing Pink Floyd live. As luck would have it the night of the show was raining, so an outdoor venue by the lake in late September may not have been the ideal place for a concert, but despite the weather Gilmour and company did an amazing job making it an impressive show. The first half of the night started with a nearly half hour long take on Echoes from "Meddle" followed by a run through the entirety of "A Momentary Lapse of Reason". After a short intermission, the second half focused on the classics, with "The Wall", "Dark Side of The Moon", and "Wish You Were Here" all represented. The sound was immaculate and as the music bounced around the stadium you very much got the same sense of immersion that came from listening to them on headphones. There was a plane that crashed into the stage during On the Run, there was an inflatable pig that floated around the stadium, and during Run Like Hell there was a very real chance of being blinded by a million laser lights that I'm quite sure could be seen from space. It was a really big production, an absolutely impeccable and flawless stadium show, and I'm hard pressed to imagine anybody in the audience thinking that it was anything less than incredible.

After playing three nights in September, Pink Floyd came back for another show on the second leg of the tour in May 1988 and I went to see them again, because, well, why wouldn't I? The show in May was almost identical in terms of production, except they opened with Shine on You Crazy Diamond instead of Echoes. To be honest, I've always kind of preferred Echoes, but maybe that's just me. It was still an incredible show, still just as impressive as the first time I saw them in September, but admittedly I may have enjoyed it a little more since it wasn't raining in May and the weather was a little warmer. Regardless of the weather on either date I'm lucky to have seen Pink Floyd back in the eighties, to have seen so many classic songs live. It was a completely different experience from listening to them in the dark with my headphones, and it was pretty awesome...

September 20th 1995, David Bowie and Nine Inch Nails at Skydome

There's something magical in the pairing of like-minded artists, a special chemistry that happens when two exceptional talents are able to come together, and David Bowie's Outside Tour in 1995 was a perfect example of that magic, that special chemistry. On the road to support the release of his latest album "Outside", Bowie toured with Nine Inch Nails and it was just as awesome as you would expect it to be.

My friend Robin and I went to the Toronto show at Skydome which was early in the tour, maybe the fourth or fifth stop across North America, and the night began with a set from Prick. Their first album was produced by Trent Reznor so it made sense in terms of them getting the opening spot, and they did an excellent job of warming up the crowd. They played an especially impressive version of their single Animal that night, sparse lighting and shadows complimenting the tension of the song. I would expect that opening for David Bowie and Nine Inch Nails would be a pretty nerve-wracking experience, but to their credit they met and surpassed all expectations.

Nine Inch Nails were up next and their set was epic, a fiery rage filled blend of anxiety, self-loathing, and anger. Reznor and company gave it their all that night, not willing to pull any punches on a journey deep into the heart of darkness. Their set drew widely from the early NIN catalog, blending singles with more obscure album tracks in a skillful way that clearly showed Reznor was interested in flow and artistry more than promotion. I really respect that kind of thinking, it shows a commitment to the work and a respect for the songs. Related to that, in hindsight I kind of feel like this tour was a turning point for Reznor where he began to develop a greater focus for the direction of what he was doing, where he gained a greater clarity and understanding of his work that would inform later more substantial releases like "The Fragile" and other albums. I may be completely off base with that kind of speculation, but there's no denying that his recorded output shifted following this tour, a next level change in sound and a greater complexity to his work that he's still exploring even now over twenty five years later.

After an intense run through Down in It, Nine Inch Nails slowed things down a bit and eased into a slower instrumental jam, drifting through spaces and creating some beautiful musical textures. As it continued the jam gained more shape and form and then David Bowie walked out on stage, quietly reciting some lyrics as NIN started playing Subterraneans from Bowie's "Low" album. It was a moment, unexpected and awesome, the idea of Reznor and Bowie actually sharing the stage something that nobody in the audience had anticipated, and just as it settled in what was happening, NIN launched into a manic and heavy run through Scary Monsters with Bowie that was absolutely brilliant, all the energy and swagger and intensity you'd expect it to be. They played a handful more songs together including Hurt and Hello Spaceboy, with members of Nine Inch Nails slowly leaving the stage after each song to be replaced by Bowie's band, until Reznor himself finally left the stage and Bowie began his own set. 

Having retired a lot of his back catalog during the Sound+Vision tour, Bowie played mostly songs from the "Outside" album, along with a few choice album cuts and a couple of singles. As a fan I thought it was brilliant, the new material was really strong and sounded great live, and the opportunity to see rarely played tracks like Andy Warhol and The Man Who Sold the World was amazing. There was a monstrous run through Teenage Wildlife that filled my heart with all the feels, and even Jump They Say was pretty excellent. And in the same way that this tour heralded a shift in terms of Trent Reznor's work, the same could also be said for Bowie who found himself entering a career renaissance where he would produce engaging and creative work that stands with some of his best. 

Was it something in the water? What was it about the Outside Tour that led to such successful artistic  shifts for both Bowie and Reznor? I don't think that we'll ever know for sure, but I'm inclined to think that they were probably inspired by each other, Bowie finding a connection to a new sound and energy in Reznor, and Reznor challenged to push his talents further by one of his biggest influences. Definitely a positive outcome for both of them, and as a fan of each I'm more than happy with the music and shows that they both made in the years following...

September 16th 2005, Nouvelle Vague at The Rivoli

I like the idea of good songs being performed in interesting new ways, and I particularly like the idea of Bossa Nova covers of New Wave classics, so it's kind of a no brainer that I would like Nouvelle Vague. They're quirky and cool, and they fully embody my belief that the truth at the heart of a well written piece of music can still be found in whatever way it's presented. Given their set up of vocals, acoustic guitar, a cello used as a bass, some keys, and percussion, the band sometimes has to be a little clever with how they present their song choices, but they're always able to find the truth inherent in a good song and I really enjoy that. They also seem to have a real appreciation for what they're playing, a passion for what they're doing that keeps their act fresh and vital instead of becoming a novelty, and that appreciation is always apparent whenever I've seen them live.

The first time I saw Nouvelle Vague was a show at the Rivoli on September 16th 2005 with my friends Panic and Steph, a Friday night at one of my favorite venues on Queen. It was an excellent show in a crowded space, with the set list drawing heavily from the songs on their first album along with a couple of extras thrown in for good measure. Who can resist a cover of Bela Lugosi's Dead? Certainly not me! The highlight of the evening was a fantastic shimmying lounge-tastic run through Too Drunk to Fuck by the Dead Kennedys, a chance for the band to really stretch out and rock hard, or Bossa Nova hard as the case may be. Rather than dwell on nostalgia and retro appeal it became something else that was awesome, a banger, a bop, a superlative version of the song that embodied everything that Nouvelle Vague represents. Something old, something new, something fun, something you can dance to, especially if you want to do a little shimmy. Those are all good things to bring to a piece of music, right?

I like to think so.

There's an appeal to nostalgia, a sentimental appreciation for the familiar, but there's also an appeal to something new, a joy in discovery. Nouvelle Vague do an excellent job of balancing nostalgia and discovery in their work, and that balance was on full display that night at the Rivoli, a totally fun and engaging gig that reminds me why I love live music so very much. And as I wax nostalgically about their 2005 gig, I'm also very much looking forward to the next chance I'll have to see them when they come back to Toronto for a gig at the Danforth Music Hall in 2022. It promises to be another really fun show with equal parts nostalgia and discovery, and probably something that I can dance to...

September 11th 2019, Lingua Ignota at The Baby G

I know that a lot of you probably think that I'm prone to hyperbole, that my enthusiasm and nostalgia can get a bit much as I recount some of the shows that I've been to. But please believe me when I say that Lingua Ignota at The Baby G was one of the best shows I've ever seen. I'm quite serious, out of hundreds of concerts I've been to this was easily one of the Top Ten, perhaps even one of the Top Three. The intensity of performance, the raw emotion on display, the awe inspiring talent, the destruction of space between artist and audience, it all contributed to one of the most impressive concerts I've seen.

Kristin Hayter, who performs as Lingua Ignota, is a singular talent, an incredibly gifted artist who has crafted a collection of revelatory works that simultaneously challenge and connect with her audience. Her 2019 release "Caligula" is a masterpiece, an intensely exquisite album that is both powerful and sparse in it's sound, a revelation, and she was touring for this record when she played at the Baby G on September 11th 2019. I've said many times that a strong album often leads to a strong tour, and that statement is especially true for this performance.

I went to the show with my friend Ryan, one of many shows we saw together that year and another in a long list of shows we've gone to since we met. I've known Ryan for a long time, since we were kids really, and we have a shared history that's inextricably mixed with shared musical interests. That shared history is important to me, I often feel ungrounded and rootless in my life, and knowing Ryan gives me a foundation that I wouldn't have otherwise. It was Ryan's idea early in the summer that we should go to the show, which was coincidentally scheduled for his birthday and who was I to say no to that? The chance to see an amazing artist with a friend who cares as deeply about music as I do? Yeah, I'm always up for that.

We met up a little bit before the show, a chance to catch up over a drink and an opportunity to rave about the "Caligula" album some more and make guesses about what the show would bring. We got to the Baby G just in time to see openers Goth Girl and Vile Creature who both did really good sets that I quite liked. We stood in the back of the room by the bar during Vile Creature's set, and as fate would have it Hayter stood about ten feet away from us, watching them play, eating from a bright red box of Cheez Its that seemed at odds with the shadows that filled the rest of the room. We didn't want to disturb her though, you don't interrupt an artist while they're getting ready for a show, especially when they have Cheez Its in hand...

A short break followed Vile Creature, and then the Baby G was plunged into complete darkness and silence for a few moments before Hayter appeared on stage behind a plastic drop sheet, lit only by a hand held light that she carried with her offering an obscured view to the audience, stretched and elongated by shadow. It was a simple but striking effect and it made for a stunning opening, a fantastic visual paired with Hayter's powerful vocals, immediately engaging and focusing the audience's attention.

After a couple of songs she came off the stage and began playing at a keyboard that was set up on the floor level, removing the barriers between audience and performer, building greatly on the concept of the concert as shared experience, drawing us further and deeper into her work. As the show progressed Hayter moved away from the keyboard and moved through the audience, completely immersed and surrounded by us. And that experience of an artist moving through the crowd, the integration of performer and audience, it gave her performance an active connection that differed greatly in strength from other shows I've been to, a rare synergy between her and the audience that transcended the concert dynamic.

I realize that I've spent a lot of time talking about movement and light and darkness and dynamics so far without mentioning too much about the music, and that's largely due to the fact that trying to describe Lingua Ignota to others is kind of difficult, an "if you know you know" kind of situation. I mean I could say that it's a white hot burning intensity, or I could say that it's the sound of a knife cutting through the soul, or even that it's like the pain of a thousand forsaken souls simultaneously screaming for release, but while all of those things are true none of them would quite suffice, and none of them could quite capture the artistry or the dark and tragic beauty of Hayter's work. Like I said, if you know you know, and if you don't know I would recommend that you seek out a copy of "Caligula" so you can count yourself among the knowing.

Ryan and I were both stunned, amazed, and totally impressed. It was quite a show, truly a stand out among hundreds of gigs I've been to, and an especially excellent way to celebrate Ryan's birthday. I've thought fondly of it many times and in many ways since, not just as an excellent performance by an excellent artist, but also as another great memory in a lifetime of memories with a close friend. That kind of combination made for a really solid concert experience, an especially good time that'll stay with me forever. And while I very much look forward to the next opportunity I'll have to see Lingua Ignota live again, there'll always be a special place in my memory for this performance for all the best reasons...

September 7th 2018, Let's Eat Grandma at the Garrison

I've been impressed by Let's Eat Grandma since the first time that I heard them. They're one of those bands that start out with everything perfectly in place, and both of their albums "I, Gemini" and "I'm All Ears" demonstrate strong songwriting, incredible musicianship, and a solid Pop sensibility paired with a keen sense of humour.

Their show at the Garrison on September 7th 2018 (moved from the Drake) was a great night out, a little quirky, a little psychedelic, and a lot of fun, bringing to mind elements of Kate Bush, Switchblade Symphony, Pink Floyd, and more. But aside from their ability to skillfully and seamlessly blend together their influences with their own remarkable talents, the thing that impressed me the most about their live show was their sheer joy in performing, an infectious and enthusiastic excitement in being able to make music and to share it with an audience. That joy, that enthusiasm, that's a special gift, and it's what sets Let's Eat Grandma apart from so many other bands in my mind. Between their exceptional talent and their impressive enthusiasm I think Let's Eat Grandma are destined for great things in the future, and I very much look forward to the next opportunity I'll have to see them perform live again...