Japandroids Noise Finishes Pop Montreal Day Three

Various venues

Montreal, QC

on Oct 2 2009

Erik Leijon (CHARTattack)

10/06/2009 11:20am

So it wasn't just me: the mood surrounding this year's Pop Montreal did feel slightly different.

The shows were definitely more packed than usual — to the point where not getting into your favourite show seemed a likelihood — and the preconceptions about what an ideal Pop Montreal weekend were vastly changing. If you wanted to have a good time, the impetus would be on you to seek it out.

With that, I'll end any doubt by saying that not only did this year's Pop Montreal equal its previous iterations, but it may very well have been the best in its eight year history. In these rough economic times, the resilience of a musical community came shining through.

Friday, Oct. 2

7:05 p.m.: It was a quick bite at the Desjardins Complex food court and across the street past the city's gaudy/colourful Complexe Des Spectacles waterworks to the Museum Of Contemporary Arts, where immensely arty and talented local chanteuse tUnE-yArDs (a.k.a. Merrill Garbus) serenaded with her ukelele, African percussion and impressive pipes. Alas, the museum setup was daunting to say the least, so we left early to catch Kid Koala's latest project, The Slew, instead.

7:45 p.m.: Across town at La Tulipe, opening act MC Clarity impressed me with his ballsiness. The local MC (who looked to be in his teens) was standing on stage by his lonesome, spouting backpack rapper nuggets of wisdom. He may never be the second coming of Talib Kweli, but we certainly hung on his every word and did his best to open our minds, as he might say. His attempt at telepathy did fail, I'm afraid.

8:15 p.m.: The multi-ethnic, catatonically nerve-wracked rappers who followed Clarity, one of whom may have been Lil'G, were much less polished.

"Some rappers, all they care about is their diamonds," said the portly MC, right before introducing another rapper sporting a couple of blindingly bright earrings.

The skinny one recited an entire verse without moving a muscle beyond his jaw. PBS telethon announcers are more animated. Again, they all looked very young, so I suspect they all have many better years ahead of them.

8:30 p.m.: Brooklyn, N.Y.-based performer Adira Amram was next and proved to be the ultimate lead-in for a night of fun.

Adira was flanked by a couple of b-girls, and all three women sported fluorescent spandex and headbands stolen from the set of a Koodo commercial. She sang an ode to her mother, played a bacon cheeseburger kazoo and generally flung her body around like a Molly Shannon SNL character. It was all uniformly funny, especially her in-between song banter.

8:40 p.m.: Best line of the night, courtesy of Ms. Adira: "You would think with my body I've had a lot of children. I have the hips of a mom."

Somehow, this segued perfectly into a C&C Music Factory-inspired dance track.

8:55 p.m.: Adira finished the set to ravenous applause.

"I'm going to Facebook the shit out of Montreal," she said with gratitude.

9:15 p.m.: The Slew is Canadian turntable whiz Kid Koala's most accessible, fun project yet. Along with Seattle DJ Dynomite D, The Slew utilizes an amazing collection of obscure '70s garage rock samples, delivered with Kid Koala's typical scratching.

Was The Slew a real '70s Seattle band, as alleged? It doesn't matter, because Eric San making harder rock music than the rockers is the real story.

9:20 p.m.: The Slew's album, 100 %, is only being made available on this one-time only tour (finding it online shouldn't be tough), but this live setup was another beast altogether.

Kid K and his longtime scratch buddy P-Love manned six turntables between them. Chris Ross and Myles Heskett, otherwise known as Wolfmother's former rhythm section, made this a rock concert of epic proportions.

From the crashing opening notes of the set, it was pretty obvious this wasn't your mom's favourite DJ's usual performance. Even the in-between song banter was samples of some MC5 wannabe (possibly the lead singer of MC5).

9:50 p.m.: Kid Koala always looks like he's going to crack up in laughter during his sets, but have you ever seen him jump around like a psychotic mosher, all while not missing a note?

Even the typically stationary P-Love couldn't help but hop from turntable to turntable. Bassist/keyboardist Chris Ross was at the centre of the stage, transforming the entirely sample-based 100% into an all-out funkfest. Kid Koala and P-Love were serving as pseudo duelling guitarists, ripping through some mean punk riffs.

10 p.m.: Although the set slowed down with the final two songs, the loud, bombastic encore reminded the audience why everyone was chattering to their neighbours in disbelief at the start of the night. The Slew is certainly the coolest thing Kid Koala has done in a long career of interesting left turns.

"This was supposed to be it," he said, "but we're thinking about heading into the studio to record all-new material."

A Slew record featuring the live rhythm section would be something worth waiting for, even if it pales in comparison to their epic live set. It was one of the best rock concerts I've ever witnessed, all delivered by turntables.

11 p.m.: On to O Patro Vys. I was still revelling in The Slew's performance, trying to enjoy the pretty good, but unfortunately named Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band. If the goal was to devise a band name that's impossible to shorten colloquially, mission accomplished.

11:15 p.m.: Mt. St. yadda yadda are an awkward Pacific northwest indie rock group with a big, percussion-heavy sound. They're more gimmickry than songcraft, although their 13-year old drummer was as good as advertised. The female member was also pounding away on two very long sticks with tambourines attached to their tops.

As with a lot of bands with too many members and unconventional song structures, the chaotic denouements tended to be more interesting than the songs themselves.

11:35 p.m.: Still at O Patro Vys, I saw former Doughboy John Kastner's dreadlocks in the distance, and I wondered who he planned on catching tonight. I then saw actress Jessica Pare as well, and I wondered if any of these people were who I thought they were.

12 a.m: It was down to La Sala Rossa for some old fashioned Motown soul with diminutive funkster Lee Fields.

Before getting into the set, I have a minor axe to grind with Pop Montreal concertgoers and organizers. La Sala Rossa is a small venue, and with the lineup outside getting longer and wider across the narrow entrance stairs, from outside the room it seemed disorderly and overstuffed.

Upon entering and passing through the glut of people packed near the doorway, though, it turned out the middle of the floor was quite empty. For everyone's benefit, please ensure that not everyone is crowding the doorway at future shows.

12:15 a.m.: The set began with 10 minutes or so of Fields' backing band, The Expressions, playing some '70s Philadelphia street soul to warm up the crowd. They're competent, but largely unspectacular.

12:30 a.m.: Only Fields' stature is small, as the suit-sporting singer finally emerged, heart in hand and perspiration upon his wrinkled forehead.

"Hands up to everyone who's in love!" Fields requested, before kicking into one of his many songs about the subject.

His raspy, passionate wail was a dead ringer for James Brown.

1 a.m.: Right about the time Fields' set became exclusively about the couples in attendance, I skipped down St. Laurent Street to Le Divan Orange, where lauded Vancouver duo Japandroids were about to turn the usually pretty hot venue into microwave oven status.

The show was presented by Concordia University radio station CJLO, which meant the crowd would consist entirely of CJLO workers, their friends, family, and if they can squeeze them in, the bands themselves.

1:10 a.m.: It was already a sweat factory when guitarist Brian King and drummer David Prowse hit the stage. They thanked the crowd for making their debut album, Post-Nothing, one of 2009's most unlikely success stories, and showed their gratitude by destroying our collective eardrums within seconds. Japandroids are about passion through repetition, and this show celebrated what made Post-Nothing such a jarring listen.

1:35 a.m.: A shirtless Japandroids roadie prepped to jump into the mosh pit, cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth. The record for keeping the Grizzly Adams lookalike aloft was over four minutes in Buffalo, N.Y., said the group.

1:40 a.m.: The Montreal crowd easily passed the record, holding him high despite nearly clipping off his head and hands on the perilously low hanging ceiling fan.

1:45 a.m.: I was too sweaty and rocked out to last 'til the end of the set. Japandroids probably could have kept going on until the morning, and perhaps did, but I went home to prepare for the next night.