The Cult Of The Dears Grows

Lee's Palace

Toronto, ON

on Jun 23 2001

Sarah Kurchak (CHARTattack)

06/25/2001 1:00pm

For music devotees, seeing The Dears perform is becoming an almost religious experience of epic and legendary proportions.

For those who haven't experienced the band's live show, that probably seems like a ridiculous and lofty exaggeration, but for those who have it's more likely to sound like an understatement.

The sold-out crowd at Lee's Palace on Saturday night obviously fell into the latter category as a palpable anticipation surged through the crowd from the moment the doors of the club opened. It could be felt throughout the opening set by fellow Montrealers Stars, who put on a fairly interesting performance despite the fact that their music sounds more suited to a pair of headphones than the stage.

The crowd was polite and appreciative, even through an ill-advised cover of "This Charming Man," but it was clear that everyone was counting down the seconds until The Dears took the stage.

Taking the stage with a confident bravado and tearing into a series of already classic songs from last year's End Of A Hollywood Bedtime Story from "C'etait Pour La Passion" to "There Is No Such Thing As Love," the band didn't disappoint.

As impressive as they were, however, the older songs paled in comparison to the rest of the set. As the band left Hollywood behind in favor of newer songs, including material from their Pop Noir Romantique EP, the show became a perfect demonstration of their absolutely stunning evolution.

A year ago, it would have been hard to imagine things getting much sweeter than Hollywood, but it's now apparent that that was only a harbinger of the genius yet to come. Equally impressive was The Dears' presence. They commanded the stage with their soaring instrumentation and powerful vocals. Fueled by frontman Murray Lightburn's bleeding soul delivery, they throw themselves into their music with such intensity, passion and abandon that they could single-handedly deliver us from the kind of self-conscious irony and detachment that seems to be plaguing so much of today's music.

As the room reverberated with the closing notes of what may very well be the final live performance of the now legendary "Today, Tonight, Tomorrow, Forever," it started to feel like we were all bearing witness to a moment in music history. Years from now, we'll be at a loss for words, trying to explain to our grandchildren how seeing The Dears live was the sonic equivalent of seeing the face of God.