Hedley

You know you are old when you go to a pop-rock concert and there is no lineup at the beer tent. This was the first disparaging event at the Hedley concert Monday night at the Air Canada Centre. As we rounded the corner of Front and Bay and joined the throngs of shrieking, hyper- excited teenage girls I knew my twenty-something companion and I were in trouble. Trouble, because I had underestimated the audience demographic and also because I tend to rant about the degeneration of North American society and the Facebook/ iPhone generation. There we were twenty something totally aged and exposed by the sea of teenage conformity that was ebbing and flowing, tittering and tweeting all around us.

The ACC packed up quickly for the sold out performance. A quick look around gave me the distinct nightmarish impression of being trapped in a funhouse mirror maze where all the cajoling reflections look exactly like Ashley Tisdale. Our seats were slightly off centre and bordered on all sides by mom chaperones and fanatical screeching tweens. The ten year old behind me took some great photos but had an unearthly wail that left ringing in my ears for the entire opening sequence by Hedley.

The best music of the night was played as a backdrop for the Alliance films summer screeners, which they showed ad nauseum at each intermission. Since most of the pubescent audience around me was too busy texting or updating their status on Facebook with their iPhones, I doubt they even noticed the previews.
Besides Hedley’s appearance, I was most interested in the climate in the arena. I watched as the wave slowly died off after eight laborious laps. I heard the petulant chant of impulsive adolescents “Hedley…Hedley…Hedley” burble up five rows behind me and spread stadium wide into a deafening command to appease the masses.

I watched, in abject horror, as the Urban Outfitters crew three rows ahead of me (uniform: thin bow tied hair bands and super long, pin straight, side-banged hair) spotted the Urban Behaviour crew seated three rows behind me (uniform: black eyeliner and black lace stockings under cut off distressed jean shorts). The iPhones were out in a flash, for a horrified moment I thought the Urban Outfitters crew was deconstructing my outfit on Twitter. The phones got passed around, texts were sent and at the next intermission the lead Urban Behaviour-ite directed an insecure approval-seeking smile-wave towards the Urban Outfitters crew leader who promptly snubbed her and then texted about it to some clean cut dude named J.J.

Teenage girls scare me.

Fefe Dobson

Seriated by squeal appeal and talent, Fefe Dobson, Stereos and Boys like Girls opened for Hedley. Fefe Dobson is Canada’s take on Miley Cyrus, except she’s brown and spastic. The set went downhill when she stepped on the stage. She entered stage left to the opening of Jimi Hendrix’s "Foxy Lady", a maligned tribute to her own self- importance. There were about five people who were actually eager to see her perform. The entire performance felt like she was playing dress-up for her high school talent show. This was definitely a case of trying too hard.

She isn’t a rockstar and I am not sure why she insists that she is one, or who she thinks is actually listening to the pitchy relationship diatribes that she calls songs ("Bye Bye Boyfriend", "In your Touch"). She pelvic-thrusted, fist-waved and front kicked her way through each song. Her moves were an amalgam of Hannah Montana’s cutesy gesticulation and Mick Jagger’s reverent epileptic fits. Every now and again she would pose on her knees in tribute to the rock gods who are most definitely shunning her from their golden circle.

All of her songs are maladapted to her vocal ability because they are written for someone with a more gravelly cadence. The only song where she demonstrated any vocal aptitude was the first verse of "Bye Bye Boyfriend", which she has been singing for 7 years so it should be perfected for the stage. The pressure of a live performance can make or break a vocalist; it is her job to figure out which songs she can sing live. She either sung too low to be audible or she sung too hastily to show off the average talent that she does possess. She should relegate herself to pop ballads for which her voice is infinitely more suited. With the right type of song she could be as ordinary as Ashlee Simpson.

For all intensive purposes this should have been the right crowd for her uninspired, run of the mill, ex-girlfriend anthems, except that she couldn’t hold her audience because there was no connection. The crowd gave her the most applause when she announced she had two songs left. There was a sense of relief when she got off the stage because now everyone could get back to the important tweeting she’d rudely interrupted with her theatrics.

Stereos

Stereos took the stage after Fefe Dobson's negligible performance at the Hedley Concert April 5, 2010 at the Air Canada Centre in Toronto. Front man, Pat K, may think he’s part of something novel and exciting but there was nothing novel or exciting about this generic electronic-pop band. With such poorly composed hits as "She Only Likes me When She’s Drunk" and "Summer Girl", it is little wonder they haven’t transgressed away from their tween fan base.

Pat K’s bleating vocals perverted the already chaotic juvenile quality of their ‘live’ performance and made every song sound like a continuing verse in an epic tribute to musical banality. For some reason, probably to validate their musicality, they actually have a basic band setup with drums and electric guitars on stage. I’m sure at some point in the creative process Stereos actually used instruments but because the composition is so heavily processed and each song sounds alike I'm not totally convinced (as I should be with a live performance) that some computer in the back isn’t generating the entire set.

In terms of performance, the lead was too fussed about messing up his glossy and super straight man-mane to exert any action. This left the on-stage action to the two guitar and bass players. They demonstrated their showmanship with such hackneyed moves as mounting an the amp and proffering their instrument to the crowd; mid-riff rock style jump-splits and homo-erotic, gender bending guitar duets. I suspect that without the trendy synthesized vocals, or the high energy, rapid fire pacing of the rap-like lyrics, or the ingeniously catchy choruses, “do wah, do wah, let’s make this happen”, the Stereos would fade into the oblivion that they ultimately belong in.

Boys Like Girls

Boys Like Girls garnered the most energy of the opening acts at the Hedley concert at the ACC, despite being the most depressing and angst ridden. Within seconds my view of the stage was obscured by the enthusiastic bouncing and all-hailing of the adolescent enthusiasts. They had a more fine tuned stage presence than either of the other headliners, Stereos or Fefe Dobson. With the amount of estrogen being screamed their way, I think it’s safe to say that they are the Emo heartthrobs of the moment.

The live performance gave their music an edge that makes their songs almost complex. Live is the closest they are going to get to sounding like a real alt-rock band. Their set was a veritable sing-along. The ten-year old behind me was blasting me with her tone deaf rendition of "Thunder". I tried to sing along to the only song I’ve heard in passing, "Two is Better Than One", in a feeble attempt not to age myself. Instead, I managed to age myself more by proxy as the PG 13 chaperone beside me was also only singing at the same parts. It looks like we both listen to Chum-FM at work.

The lead, Martin Johnson, in his eyeliner and bed head, exuded the kind of heart-sick anguish that only 15 year olds can empathize with. He maneuvered the stage with the temerity of a fledgling beefcake, bedroom eyes at front row and posturing for the cameras. Wherever he moved on stage a trail of adoring fan drool would trace where he had been previously. The front rows received a hailing of guitar picks that the band kept chucking. This and their running monologue was the only actual connection they attempted with the audience. Not that the breast beating, hair pulling fans minded the unidimensional nature of the stage-audience relationship, they were already entranced by the band.

As with Fefe Dobson and Stereos, Boy Like Girls’s music also lacked creative range… depth… meaning. The theme of Boys like Girls’ music is totally expressed in their brand name. They have slotted themselves into the distressed-relationship rock ballad category which makes them perfect for this vapid age group as Hedley headliners. If relationship woes, "Two is better than One", and messianic fantasies, "Hero/Heroine", are the defining ideologies for teens why should BLG bother trying to produce anything that promotes genuine musicality or social messages? The girls already love them and they've lived up to their name.

Hedley Concert

When Hedley came out the audience was electric. The crowd was alive and receptive to every movement on the darkened stage. Hedley introduced themselves with a video clip of each band member being called to duty by the bat-phone. The buildup was a little lengthy after being subjected to three opening acts but it was well received by the eager fans. When the lights went up the cacophony of blood curdling shrieks and affirmations of undying love drowned out the first song. The 10 year old behind me was screaming almost as loud as the PG-13 chaperone directly beside me.

Jacob Hoddard’s on stage antics, acrobatics and constant dialogue with the crowd kept the audience on its toes in synchronized hyperactivity. He encouraged participation by commanding the crowd to move, indulging the sing along with a repeat after me hook in "Saturday". He made the bands’ fans feel personally important by grabbing hands and making eye contact mid verse with the stage hugging fans and most importantly by jumping right into the crowd to sing a verse during "321". A tribute to their Canadian heritage was by far the most intimate performance during "Beautiful", where Hedley had set up a campfire scene and had a beer with the audience.

Their set included all of the major hits from all three of their albums- a minor disappointment to me who enjoys their post punk first album best. I happily sung along with "Trip" and "She’s So Sorry" and was ecstatic to hear "Gunnin" but I would really have loved to hear "Johnny Falls", "Villain" and "I’d Hear Heaven". The high octane levels of their stage presence in combination with those edgier tracks would have truly demonstrated the vivacious and irrepressible nature of this band.

This is definitely a band that doesn’t take itself seriously. As Jake spun around in manic rapture and flipped back and forth between verses his headset broke free of his back pocket but he sang on and still attacked his choreography while he fixed it. During a vigorous drum solo, Chris Cripper broke a drumstick, which he deftly replaced from his stash with no audible loss of the beat. The dialogue between the band members felt natural even if it was scripted, because it was playful. Hedley gave the crowd lots of evidence of their boisterous nature throughout the performance- who says they’re too established to moon the crowd.

I am always astounded at the myriad usages for our personal communication devices. During the slow jams, "Sweater Song", "Amazing" and "Gunnin" I could see thousands of LED displays all swaying to the beat. The ambiance had an ethereal sci-fi quality with the sea of LED displays that the tiny flicker of a lighter could never give. The only person with a lighter around me was the PG-13 chaperone beside me.

It became apparent about three songs in that she, and not her daughter, was the die-hard Hedley fan. She sang every word of every song, jumped higher than our whole row and was waiting to use that lighter to tribute her favorite songs. To see her, lighter outstretched, face contorted in reverence for the band and at least 30 years older, 80lbs heavier than the average Hedley fan was not only noteworthy but also picture worthy. She was a living testament to the death of traditionalism. Lighters at concerts are so 90’s.

This is a band that is much better live because their antics complete their rebellious sound. They are definitely hindered from making their performances more radical because of the conservative demographic of their underage fan base. They are humourous performers with great showmanship drawing their fans into the performance and revitalizing them at the same time. They satirize band-branding and taking music too seriously while still retaining the fundamental structure of a rock show stage performance. The visceral response of the audience was encouraged by Jacob Hoddard’s screwball humility and unexpected antics. He makes the band the production it is.

The tweens will return but I probably won’t.