All work, all play for The Arkells

Last week NLG took a trip to Ontario, or rather Vancouver’s Ontario House, where the Arkells had the honour of representing the most populous province for Olympic visitors. Hailing from the steel town of Hamilton, ON, the Arkells played a rock n roll that was so blue collar they made Bruce Springsteen look like a government worker. Exuding more elbow grease than a Russian mechanic, they conveyor-belted out songs about punching in timecards and John Lennon (a true working class hero) with vocals that were as raw and strong as iron ore. Their driving and powerful guitar riffs were skillfully fused with blues and Motown elements, which included a hammering rendition of Stevie Wonder’s “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” that had the crowd stomping their workboots and Serge looking for a hard hat for fear of the roof coming down. The last song they played, the punchy “Oh! The Boss Is Coming”, was so rowdy that it may have just inspired the whole crowd to take collective sick day the following morning. From what may be the hardest working band in Canada:

The Arkells - Oh! The Boss Is Coming

Line ups are for grown ups

After waiting in a line that was the largest congregation of people NLG had ever seen long enough to glimpse Mother Mother through a chain link fence, and arriving at La Maison du Quebec (otherwise known as the Quebec House) just in time to see Malajube dismantling their set, one would think that NLG’s foiled attempts at free shows during the 2010 Olympics would get us down. Hardly the case. Even though the line to get into Wilco stretched past NLG’s East Van hangout location (or was that to get a free Vitamin Water?) and with hell even the Saskatchewan House being plugged up, we are just pleased that Canada’s talented acts are getting the world stage. Loyal supporters of bands from the Great White North, we can imagine nothing better than some Norwegian biathlon fans inadvertedly subjected to fast rockin’ Les Breastfeeders or Constantines or the highly entertaining ramblings of Buck 65. Of course we would rather be there ourselves, but unless athletes such as Jennifer Heil quit being so captivating and making us drink so much while they win medals, there is no way we will get in line early enough to see anything. At least we can wait until they all come back to play at the Biltmore when the town is back to normal!

For the Norwegian biathlon fans:

Apologies to what may have been White Denim

Dear White Denim,

We woke up face down on my landlord’s living room floor, fully clothed, feeling like we had been cast in a cheap remake of the hangover movie. We knew we had been to your show the night before, but could only start to make out the details of the night by piecing together the bar receipts that were spilling out the pockets of our still-on jeans. This led to a general review of what was left of our personal belongings, which didn’t take very long for Gene, as he was missing some fairly important possessions. Serge, on the other hand, was able to gain some information from sent texts (“Let’s get Tim-Campbell-drunk tonight”). More memories starting dribbling in as we conducted personal physical examinations, revealing a cracked lip for Gene, and scraped elbows and a bruised rib for Serge. A few well-placed phone calls later informed us that not only were we involved in a mosh pit at your show at the Media Club the night previous, but we may well have instigated it. That’s when we realized that perhaps we (namely Serge) were a little too familiar with the members of your band after the show. We’d like you to know that it was all meant well and that we quite enjoyed your performance, at least from what we can recall. Maybe when you are back in town we can have a beer or two and forget all about it.

Sincerely,

No Look Guns

PS Your videos are great

2 minutes 45 seconds

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NLG goes to Phoenix

This past weekend marked the commencement of Vancouver’s “Cultural Olympiad”, a two month long cluster-fest of insane entertainment (may or may not include winter Olympics) that has NLG drooling on our v-necks.

Stop one on NLGs celebration of the Cultural Olympiad: a show by a little group of Frenchmen called Phoenix.

After a hasty repast courtesy of Falafel Town, home of Vancouver’s best falafel, we arrived at the Orpheum Theatre at 8:50 PM, only to find we had missed opening act, You Say Party! We Say Exclamation Mark! Feeling slightly saddened by this, and by that fact that we were rudely accused of not being drunk enough, we decided to improve our situation by relocating ourselves from our seats in the upper balcony to a standing position in the front row. Thanks to insufficient security, this proved to be no problem at all.

Then came Phoenix, a French revolution of pure unbridled vibrancy, with musical consummation smoother and more satisfying than the finest chèvre. Opening with the oh-so-sentimental-not-sentimental-no “Lisztomania”, they had us immediately jumpin’ and jivin’ and firing NLGs in all kinds of directions from all sorts of angles. Amid a sea of American Apparel, Serge and Gene were quickly whisked into a separate reality of horizontal stripes and overall musical elation.

At the midway point of the show, during “Love like a sunset”, front-homme Thomas Mars took a prolonged nap on stage, only to rise from the ashes to conduct a Napoleonic invasion of my frontal lobe that lasted until the end of their set.

For their encore, Phoenix attempted to quell the utter lunacy of the crowd by playing a couple acoustic jams, this only resulted, however, in an excess of pent up jubilation that would be released on the unsuspecting musicians as soon as they plugged back in. All it took was one daring individual to hop on stage and before security could grasp the situation, a small city's worth of Phoenix’s most dedicated fans were on stage (Serge and Gene inclusive). Although definitely fearing for their lives, Mars and co. managed to pound out their final two songs whilst being mauled by an overzealous mob of Francophiles, and concluded with a death defying execution of “1901” which threatened to break the stage… if not from sheer weight, then from the water damage caused by the sweat of what felt like 1901 fanatic stage dwellers. The entire experience left Serge and Gene in a state of euphoria, and no doubt gave the Frenchmen a reason to remember Vancouver.

In typical NLG fashion, no night stops when the concert ends. After Gene found himself on the business end of a gutwrench suplex from an estranged redheaded compatriot, it was off to the Cambie for a night cap, while we pondered the amount of phenomenal mayhem in which we had been so fortunate to participate.

This also marks the 3rd time NLG has written about Phoenix... for those keeping score at home.
Phoenix - Lisztomania
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A TV Screen?

With two full length albums as critically acclaimed as they are apt for a 3 am dance party in your parents’ basement, incredibly remixable singles, and live shows that are as physically rewarding as aurally, it’s surprising that LCD Soundsystem isn’t the biggest band in the world right now. Well, perhaps its that Punk/Funk/Disco House isn’t exactly accessible to the masses, or the fact that their name doesn’t fail to bring to mind the thought of home entertainment sets. Still, their first single “Losing My Edge” is as ‘relevant’ as it was when it was released almost 9 years ago, with their most recent album Sound of Silver and latest single “Bye Bye Bayou” keeping blogs buzzing with remixes ever since. With a new album set to come out this spring, as well as a just-announced tour, our guess is that LCD’s days of getting confused with flatscreens are soon over. From their 2005 debut album:

LCD Soundsystem - Tribulations
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So much for the Weekend

I was under the impression that the saying went, ‘everybody’s working for the weekend’. Well, now it looks like Serge is working on the weekend. Serge had his travel plans to go back and get roonied on the island cut short, as The Man informed me that Saturday would now be joining lunch breaks and evenings as the latest to become corporate property.

I thought perhaps listening to Vampire Weekend’s latest album, Contra, might cheer me up a little. After all, this was one of the most anticipated albums to come out since the soundtrack to the Big Chill…that is, until Vampire Weekend decided to pre-release two of its tracks, Horchata and White Sky. At the time, I really wasn’t sure why Ezra Koenig & Co. would pre-release what I thought must surely be the album’s worst songs, but as I soon found out, they are definitely not Contra’s worst songs. No, that probably goes to “California English”, in which Ezra uses a vocoder to warble lyrics such as “Fake Philly cheese steak/But she use real toothpaste” against disparate and erratic melodies. Any bright spots? Not really. Which is why we would rather play Hot Chip and Peter Gabriel doing a cover of Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa, in which Gabriel contemplates how unnatural it would feel to sing his own name. Now things are looking up.

Hot Chip & Peter Gabriel - Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa (Vampire Weekend cover)

NLG gets a full release

Gene was recently invited to the CD release of your math teacher’s favourite alt-metal/garage-punk band, and good friends of NLG, Carry the One. Seeing as at previous Carry the One shows, I have been politely asked by security to put my shirt back on, and to stop pouring beer on the band members, I knew it was going to be a good night.

We arrived just in time to see opening act Rule 27 taking the stage for their set of original estrogenious indie-pop joints. Apparently Rule 27 states that the two young ladies at the back of the dance floor, near the pillar, must make out for the entire set… they of course obliged. Other females in the crowd may have misinterpreted the rule, or been inspired by the two young ladies at the back of the dance floor, near the pillar, because they too seemed to take a fancy to one another. Come to think of it, maybe Rule 27 isn’t a rule at all, but just three girls who attract a somewhat liberal female crowd and play catchy tunes to accompany the visual stimuli.

After a short intermission, and the consumption of some sort of flaming beverage, it was time for some gradeschool addition as Carry the One took the stage. The summation of 1 drum set, 2 guitars, 1 base, and an infinite value of badass, CTO doesn’t take long to whip the crowd into an unequivocal frenzy. Their power series of greasy guitar licks, and expertly calculated percussive blows had Gene bouncing off fellow fans and fist pumping like a champion (fully clothed this time). At one point, a Dutch-named band member beckoned to the crowd, clearly asking for beer related theatrics, so Gene in typical fashion shoved a beer bottle in his mouth. My generous offer of libation, however, was declined by the tightly pantalooned guitarist… I guess I also did some misinterpreting that night. But all be told, the night was a success.

This was CTO’s last show as residents of Victoria, as they will be moving to Vancouver at the end of the month. Thus if you want to catch a glimpse of these guys in the future, your best bet is to check the smoking section in the grungiest of Vancouver watering holes.

PS- We will have a track up for your ears as soon as a select member of Carry the One figures out how to use the internet.