In which my fondest wish comes true, and I get to slag off on something...
Yesterday, I posted to P2 with the comment that I find it difficult to write about things that I don't like, and asking for advice. Much of the advice I got was to practice. Last night, I saw a show that I very much didn't like, thus giving me the opportunity to practice. I'm not sure if that implies a blessing or a curse. Comments on either subject or execution welcome, though the execution ones are obviously a bit off topic so you might want to take them off-list, lest I turn this place into a writers' workshop.
Kathleen Edwards at the Mod Club
This was a show that went from good to bad to worse, improved its way back up to bad and then ended with a resounding thud as it collapsed to worst.
I like the Mod Club. It's a nice venue, with good sound, great visuals, and a practice of starting shows early so they can still open up as a dance club later in the evening, which gives us boring people a chance to get home at a decent hour. If you were at the Kathleen Edwards show last night, though, you'd think the sound was terrible and early shows were a curse upon civilization. You'd probably still admire the visuals though, since they were the best part of the experience.
The set opened strong; for the first minute and a half or so, Kathleen was singing, the band was playing quietly in the background, I was impressed. Half way through the first song, however, they switched from quiet, almost accoustic sensibilities to a more rocking style. Unfortunately, the quality of the sound simply didn't hold up to the higher volumes.
The first five songs, which were sung without introduction or interlude were basically a blur of unheard lyrics and interchangeable guitar riffs. You know that moment of excitement that runs through an audience when they first recognize the song that's being played and send up a little shiver of applause? Didn't happen at all, because nobody could tell what they were. There was only one point where the band was quiet enough that you could hear the vocals, and at that point, the vocals consisted of Kathleen moaning like a woman faking the dullest orgasm ever.
I was optimistic when she started introducing the songs that things would get better. At least I'd know what I was listening to. Unfortunately, most of what I was listening to was Kathleen and her bandmates cursing at things. Someone got a Fuck You for not being an Expos fan. Someone else got threatened for saying something about Kathleen's husband (her guitar player, Colin Cripps). The fucking curfew was fucking mentioned several fucking times. The sound quality got cursed out, as well, but at least that was deserved. In recent interviews, Kathleen has suggested that she's all grown up from her days of being a potty mouthed bad girl, matured and wiser. Maybe she's not calling other artists fucking sluts in interviews, but her show is still high school material.
Throughout this, the sound continued to be a problem. Feedback on the mics, random thumping from the speakers, guitars too loud, vocals too low. This isn't a venue problem, there's nothing wrong with the sound at the Mod Club; I've seen other shows that were just as loud, but apparently better engineered, which had no problems.
The encore set was an improvement. Some quieter numbers that were actually intelligible, and a rocking 'Back to Me' that was loud but still listenable. Finally, with curfew looming, Kathleen suggested that she had reached the last song. As they had throughout the night, the crowd yelled for Hockey Skates, her one really high profile song. She started into the song and whatever it was, it wasn't Hockey Skates. After having cursed some random woman, curfew, the sound quality and a few other things, Kathleen had saved this more subtle fuck you to her fans for the end.
She looks back on the material from Failer as shaky and juvenile, and Hockey Skates as possibly the worst offender, but the fact remains, it was the song that the crowd most wanted to hear. It was the song they'd been screaming for all night long. It was the song that she didn't play. That's more juvenile than the song could ever be.
Relevent Links:
Kathleen Edwards
Mod Club
Postcard2