Or Bereft of bouzouki

I thought I'd get to write something today about going to the Decemberists' sold out show last night at the Commodore. The band has been playing some legendary shows recently, and I've always wanted to see live a band that plays the accordion, the hurdy-gurdy and the bouzouki.

Alas, I arrived to some sign posted on the door saying the band was suffering from an "illness," and the tickets I've been holding for two months will have to wait another month to be used. Knowing the Decemberists, it was probably one of the more literate illnesses, like cholera or a 15th century strain of the plague.

In lieu of the concert, we made a stop at HMV downtown to finally buy their latest album (my favorite of this last year), and had an impropmtu concert in the car driving through downtown. Since I had my camera for the concert, I didn't want to waste it, so here's some random shot from the drive, although it's decidedly hurdy-gurdy-less.


(Not pictured: The Decemberists.)

Has it got you?

Watching Arcade Fire isn't so much enjoying a concert as it is watching performance art being created. Among the pluses: a stage setup including several household lamps, the utter destruction of a terrible acoustic guitar, and a band who ends their set by marching into the crowd and continuing to play to a stunned audience. Just awesome.

I wasn't so impressed with the opening band, where Wolf Parade tried to answer that eternal question, how can one suck and blow at the same time?

Holiday weekend post, so I'll end it early with another entry in this blog's famous collection of completely bizarre NFL commentary quotes:

"As Gloria Estefan said, 'the rhythm is going to get you,' and this quarterback has found his rhythm."



Anyone see that Vancouver/Edmonton NHL game where they were showing the famous hockey episode of the Simpsons on the screens? That's gotta be my favorite episode.

Happy Thanksgiving folks.

Look ma, no links!

Saw the Scottish Olympic gymnastic team last night. They play good music.



Franz Ferdinand's stage set up was pretty classy, and made for a lot of high jumps, scissor kicks and the most reckless disregard for a drum kit I've seen since Spinal Tap.

I love seeing shows at the Orpheum. They understand the likelihood that audiences may doze off during more erudite fare, so they even took care to offer something nice for the heads rolled back.



Thankfully, Franz is a potent cure for narcolepsy, as well as that sickness where you hear everything perfectly. Yeah I'm deaf. But hearing "What You Meant" live is worth it.

Arcade Fire, the bar has been set. Your move.

Oh, and for those on Burrard and 11th the other day, your eyes did not deceive you, that was the worst parallel parking job in the history of mankind.

0.1 km to another Starbucks

Been blogless for a while, but that should end, as law school part two (the second in a trilogy, missing a genuine introduction or denouement, but including the spectacular Battle of Helms Deep) has officially begun. So much to say, so I'll give some observations of the intervening period:

The drive from my door in Calgary to my door in Vancouver is precisely 999.9 kilometres.

In the film Red Eye, keep an eye out for Colby from Survivor: Australia, who doesn't portray a senatorial security guard so much as portray Colby trying to portray a senatorial security guard.

Making my way through Bleak House, I'm struck by the notion that Dickens really loved his orphans, as well as portentous portraits hung on walls.

I finally saw The Firm, (I know, I know.) Two frightening observations: one, the interview process and articling work shown is eerily familiar, and two: Wilford Brimley!

Bob Dylan's new live CD, performed 33 years ago, is unlike any other, as you can actually hear waitresses clearing plates in what sounds like an empty cafe. Check out Moonshiner and Barbara Allen, up there with the best of them.

When I saw U2, I didn't know an audience could go so nuts for a band - until I saw Pearl Jam play GM Place.



Despite being a blight on my Tuesday and Thursday mornings, Evidence is shaping up to be an amazing class, and putting me one step closer to annoyingly - but correctly - yelling "hearsay" to everything my friends say I disagree with.

The surprise you feel when you receive a gigantic Taxation textbook free begins to fade when you realize the similarly large local phone book is also free, and eminently more useful.

Or, a very scruffy Agent Smith

This won't garner any sympathy from people living east of the Rockies, but I landed down in Calgary this evening and felt something I haven't felt in a long time: cold. I know they say living on the West coast makes you soft, and it's true, but it's such a gloriously warm softness! Anyway, I don't mean to disparage my hometown -I still loves my prairies - but coming home from Vancouver is not the same as coming home from Kingston. Which is more accurately a mad dash.

To business now, and last night's musical entertainment. Before I get to the Irish lads, I'll spend a few moments on Kings of Leon, whom in all reviews of these shows seem to be avoided.
Naturally, the brothers' sound isn't best suited for a large arena, a smaller venue obviously being the better choice. That they still managed to kick ass, however, is simply a bonus. "Four Kicks" has never sounded better. And kudos to the band for playing "Soft." If the audience had any idea about the subject matter of what they were listening to, the applause may have been a tad more... disgusted. Oh, and lead singer Caleb Followill looked a lot like Elrond from Lord of the Rings. Just thought I'd mention that.



And U2. It would be pointless to expound on how great these guys are, because "kick-ass" has only so many permutations. I will say that I've never seen a crowd go so insane, so consistently. I'd normally pick out some highlights of the show, but there honestly was never a low point, or even a "I could take it or leave it" point.



The lads were up to eleven the entire night, and even the new stuff sounded just as good as the old. Thankfully, Achtung Baby! got the lion's share of older material representation. Also, two encores, eight songs: how cool is that? Very cool is what.



If I have one complaint, it's that they didn't play "Stay." Weather aside, leaving Vancouver was extremely tough for another special reason, and had Bono played that song I may have simply submitted to the lyrics, and told folks here, "blame him."

Law school inside joke #374

I should be reviewing notes, but I'm reviewing concerts. Last night was a great triple bill at the Commodore, and I wanted to get my thoughts down before the ringing in my ears stops and I can once again hear those siren's voices beckoning me to the books.

Maybe it's the overt sexuality of their lyrics, or the fact that the lead singer looks uncannily like legendary axe-man Nigel Tufnel, but Louis XIV is perhaps the closest I will get to seeing Spinal Tap live in concert. For anyone that knows me, this is a dream of mine. (People request hits at concerts, I request "Stonehenge.") They look and sound British, so it's easy to forget these guys are from San Diego - clearly outside the indie boundaries of the O.C. Hearing them tear into the first five notes of "Finding Out True Love is Blind" was a truly amazing moment, guaranteeing that I will see these guys when they hit town again.



Next, the four lads from Northern Albion, the Futureheads. As this region is generally considered the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution, I always picture its denizens as having an impeccable work ethic. Accordingly, the band did not disappoint. Each band member truly plays his heart out - even when lead singer Barry Hyde broke three string in one song, he still managed to pull off a great song. I don't think I would be denying them a compliment if I called them a veritable assembly line of rock. For me, the set highlight coincided with the album highlight, when, on "Hounds of Love," they sing in unison the hilariously cruel line, "take your shoes off / and I will throooooooow them in lake!" Whatever floats your boat in England.



Finally, Hot Hot Heat took the stage to a rapturous crowd. Their set featured a solid mix of new stuff and old stuff. A great aspect about these guys is that every song sounds like a hit single, so there's little chance of disappointing. There were a few technical difficulties with a mic early on, but things came together for their best songs, "Oh Goddammit," "Bandages," and the best track on the new album, "Middle of Nowhere." To boot, Singer Steve Bays also displayed the most assured microphone swinging I've seen since Robert Goulet played Bart's Casino. (Poor, poor Milhouse.)



The set became doubly interesting when the "tide" came in and a wash of crowd surfers managed to land on stage. The bouncer had his hands full grabbing them one after one and leading them to an exit backstage. Not surprisingly, he tired of the routine, and in order to describe his new attitude, I need only direct you law student readers to recall the facts of Bruce v. Coliseum Management. Yeah... ouch.

Soy Bomb was less of a jerk

I've seen Joel Plaskett play three times live now, each in a tiny venue that either has (Kingston's Grad Club) or could (Vancouver's Media Club) double as someone's house. My feeling is that if the idiots at Joel's label marketed his albums properly, he could be filling venues ten times the size. Yet at the same time, the intimate setting suits his act just fine.



The great thing about seeing Joel live is that he offers commentary for his songs, oftentimes right in the middle of them. ("Chris Martin eat your heart out.") Opener Peter Elkas came up on stage to play a few songs with Joel, and was first asked to play some guitar solos and then jokingly asked to stop because he was "too good." Like Jeff Tweedy of Wilco, Joel is a hilarious entertainer, my favorite line of the night being:

"How much did they charge you for this show, ten dollars? You paid twelve?? Peter Elkas we're rich!!"



There was, of course, the standard issue concert-going jerk in attendance. See Thom's blog for a full account of this. Let's just say we can all stand a little chatter during a show, but this guy actually told entire stories (with full-body actions) to uninterested members of the fairer sex, while standing in the front row no less.

Before the show, we stopped at Guu with Garlic, a remarkable Japanese izakaya restaurant on Robson Street whose food is best described as tapas. Cheap, delicious, and - when the waiter forgets who's been waiting an hour and seats you almost immediately - even better!

The night also featured a stop at the Virgin Records store downtown, which was notable for a very strange occurence. I waited about ten minutes for a guy to finish at the listening station for the new Basement Jaxx album. While I browsed, I kept looking over, and he seemed to be really into it, making me want to listen to it all the more. When he finally left and I took the headphones, there was nothing, not even static. Apparently the headphones were dead, and there was a now-visible sign indicating how the station was out of order. What music from beyond the grave haunted that man for so long? And can I download a copy?

Any chance Napoleon won that battle?

No sooner do I discover and rave about the band Louis XIV then I find myself in possession of a ticket to a show they're playing. Even better, they're on a bill with two other equally amazing bands, The Futureheads and B.C.'s own Hot Hot Heat. I've managed to unearth Louis XIV's earlier albums and EPs too, and I'm certain they'll put on a good show. Any downloaders out there, check out "Illegal Tender." Tell me if I'm wrong, but there's something positively Gilbert and Sullivan about that song, notwithstanding its ass-kickery. If the band's original name was supposed to be the Pirates of Penzance, it wouldn't surprise me.

As for the British laddies, those who watch the O.C. with the same frequency as I do will recall hearing the Futureheads shamelessly blared over the opening scenes of last week's episode - "Meantime" was the tune. And those who didn't hear Hot Hot Heat's first album might currently be inclined to say they sound like the Killers, when if fact it's the other way around. All in all, it should be great. Or, to quote a friend of mine, it'll be Hot Hot Neat! (Ouais, c'est vrai AM, et si tu veux le réfuter, tu devrais commencer un blog de ton propre!)

Yet tomorrow night, is of course, the Joel Plaskett show. I'm aiming to get a few choice photographs of the Lankster himself. I'll also get some shots of opener Pete Elkas, a musician who I played roadie to for all of 2 minutes a year ago. At Joel's Kingston show, Elkas was also the opener and he asked me to hold his guitar while he put away some equipment. As any roadie would do, I acted like I could care less.

To cap off this amazing trifecta of aural pleasure, it's just over a month till I see U2 and Kings of Leon in town. It's my last night in Vancouver before I head home for the summer. It'll be tough to leave this city even for four months, but it should be a great send off. Here's hoping that they play "Stay."

Elsewhere, it's a four day weekend here, and most people have vacated the premises, heading back home. This leaves me alone with only the Canadian Justices themselves. Really, who can be lonely when you've got loudmouth Denning over there in the corner!

As for studying, two subjects are particularly frightening. Contracts has gotten quite difficult of late, and Property... Property shall be my Waterloo. I think to ease myself into this study-fest occupying the next several weeks, I'll start with the others, Torts, Legal Institutions and Criminal Law. Though, I suppose if I really wanted to study Criminal Law I could just fire up the ol' PS2, pop in some Grand Theft Auto and truly get into the mind of a criminal. That's all kinds of illegal!