Hallo-Ween At Sound Academy No Treat

Sound Academy

Toronto, ON

on Oct 26 2007

Evan Dickson (CHARTattack)

10/29/2007 1:00pm

What a disappointment.

Ween are a great band who happen to be just popular enough to play all the worst venues when they come to Toronto. The last time I saw them was at the Kool Haus, an ugly, cavernous warehouse space on Toronto's lakeshore. After seeing a few shows there, I made it my hobby to tell whoever would listen that Kool Haus was the worst venue in the city. I have a new hobby.

I'd never been to Sound Academy (formerly The Docks) before, so of course I was late because it's about as conveniently located as a prostate tumor. I thought Kool Haus was depressing, but this place was not only harder to find amongst the darkened warehouses on the industrial waterfront, but the room is terribly designed. It's so narrow and long that unless you are in the first 100 people you're looking at ants on stage.

To compensate, a few video screens were set up near the back. They mostly showed a long high angle view of the stage that likely came from a camera on the ceiling in the middle of the room which was still too far away to see anything. The screens only reassured those of us at the back that we wouldn't have had it any better if we tried to get closer.

Of course, none of this was the band's fault. Gene 'n' Dean pleased the varied crowd of hippies, teen misfits and thirtysomething weirdoes with a sampling of hits from throughout their career, including "Voodoo Lady," "Piss Up A Rope," "Exactly Where I'm At," "The Argus" and even "Push Th' Little Daisies." The only tune I caught from their new La Cucaracha album was the smooth jazz gag, "Your Party." I was a little relieved that they didn't lean too heavily on their new material because it's not so great.

From the back of the room I felt like I might as well have been listening to a mix CD. The real musical highlights were Dean's guitar solos. In case you haven't noticed, Dean Ween is one of the great guitar virtuosos of our time. His controlled psychedelic riffs alone were almost worth the price of admission.

When the Deaner wasn't tearing it up, I mostly got into chit-chat with some other bored people who were either too late or too short to try for the front of the room. There was no shortage of passed-out dudes, yawning girlfriends and other disinterested folk hanging out on the couches near the exits. They probably wanted to at least stay until the end of the show they paid for, even if there was nothing to do back there except get drunk. I luckily ran into an old high school friend who was kind enough to show me a way back to the subway that didn't cost a $10 cab ride.