The Jack Stafford Foundation

Artist: The Jack Stafford Foundation

Where: NXNE- June 18, 2010- The Cameron House

Who: After a lucrative but unfufilling career as a copywriter and a stint as a fashion designer in Amsterdam, Jack Stafford has reinvented himself as a "troubador" from "no fixed abode England".

What: As a solo artist Jack Stafford calls himself a reductionist but he is much better described as a sardonic contemporary storyteller. His music is topical in nature and delivered in humourous punchlines with a voice that lends itself to the gritty realities it exposes.

Performance: The Jack Stafford Foundation opened up with an introduction that involved the crowd as a choir on stage. He invited them up, taught them the lyrics to the chorus and cajoled them into singing with fervor. In breaking the divide between entertainer and the entertained, Stafford found a sympathetic crowd for his world weary numbers The Hard Way and Claustrophobia and also an enthused audience for his sarcastic wit in 20 Century Baby and A.D.D.

In between numbers he quipped about the behaviour of the crowd and told the stories behind the creation of his songs. The relevance of his material to trendy news headlines and contemporary social issues, like A.D.D, the obesity epidemic, dysfunctional governments, relationships and families, provided an instant connection between Stafford and the small niche crowd he had gathered off the street. He was a welcome relief from the previous artists at the festival, as he went beyond the topics addressed by the others, mainly relationship woe, to address an edgier perspective on the banalities of the everyday existence in western society.

What is really unique about him as an artist is how the context of his life as a muscian is applied to his product and how he reflects his sarcastic and amiable personality in his craft. His lyrics reflect the ennui he succumbed to as a fenced in office copy writer, to the wanderlust he felt as a fashion designer, the rollercoaster ride of loves won and lost and his current fulfillment as a couch surfing troubadour.

But while Stafford's stark and humourous deconstructivist lyrics are good, he is just not much of a vocalist. His limited sonic range and tonal dexterity became evident by the third number, when his novelty wore off. In the studio versions of his songs he buffers his handicap with back up vocals and additional instrumentation. In his live performance, reduced to the merits of his voice and acoustic guitar, his limitations are made painfully apparent.

He could play in a bar for a song or two but a steady diet of him would be hard to take. It would be a welcome act anywhere in between more serious muscians as an audio palate cleanser or audience cheerleader.

For ten months Jack Stafford has been living out of his backpack and guitar case during his North American tour, No Fixed Abode. After examining the bare contents of his entire travel pack, which consists of an iphone, two pairs of shoes, three interchangeable pairs of clothes, a swimsuit, a ziploc baggie of vitamens, travel sized toiletries from motels, an Irvine Welsh novel of short stories and a tiny travel guitar that looked like a distorted ukelele, I asked him if he'd seen the movie Up In The Air. He said he was very much like the Natalie Keener character, at the beginning of his tour he carried his own pillow, for his "bad back", but quickly realized that he was carrying too much baggage. He has since became adept at shedding all of the non-essential comfort items, like girlfriends, pillows and shoes that require socks.

Song to listen to: Claustrophobia and

The Hard Way

Jess McAvoy

Artist: Jess McAvoy

Where: NXNE Festival- Toronto ON- June 18, 2010- The Cameron House

Who: 30 year old singer/songwriter from Melbourne Australia.

What: Jess McAvoy laments love and relationships while bringing her backstage personality on stage in soulful rock ballads.

Performance:

Jess McAvoy needs to take a real risk in her music and display the powerhouse blues rock goddess that she keeps dumbed down by creative coasting. We want loud and we want proud and when Jess McAvoy gives us this we want more, now.

McAvoy is one of those artists who sounds better stripped to the raw essential elements of acoustic performance. In removing the superfluous instrumentation from her songs she is reduced to her best, highlighting her vocal dexterity and tour- tenured musical wit.

How the Hell, a blues inspired powerhouse anthem about unexpected romantic connection and ultimate obsession, created a high expectation for the rest of her performance. She drove the beat into the floor with a rebellious stomp and shook the walls with her riotous wailing "How the hell d'you get into my soul...". Her voice was so powerful, on even the softest of notes, that you could feel the bass of her vocal tenor moving through your bones. She made effortless transitions and flawlessly maneuvered through minor slide scales with such vigour and with a perfected tone that hearkened back to a young Melissa Ethridge.

What started off with such a bang became a disappointment as she moved away from the visceral clap of her piece de resistance and towards the more mundane folksy compositions of The Hard Way, The Sailor and easy. The rest of her performance was anti-climactic, leaving me to wonder why she chose to demonstrate her best piece first, when none of her other songs could compare in either their innovative composition or in displaying her undeniable talent.

Jess McAvoy's more subdued and lackluster songs demonstrated a form of musical apathy, as they all entertained the same imagery, engendered the same emotions and were composed almost identically in narrative and melodic stylization. Her performance after How the Hell left a bitter after taste. All else was comparatively weak and stylistically uninspired, no matter how she performed it; she outshone herself in the first number. It is as if we're watching her dumb her musical ability down for herself. She sings what is obviously easy for her to create and perform with minimal work. With a little more risk and ingenuity she can stun the audience with her triumphant personality, impressive vocal dexterity and soul rattling lyrical and emotive musical translations.

Song to listen to: How the Hell

Luluc

Band: Luluc

Where: NXNE Festival- Toronto, ON- Friday June 18, 2010- The Cameron House

Who: Unassuming folk duo, Zoe Randell and Steve Hassett. Originally from Melbourne Australia, now based in Brooklyn, New York.

What: Minimalist indie folk music that is delivered with a perfected sense of tone but otherwise delivers the familiar romantic and emotional tropes of this kind of music.

Performance: This duo's mix of vocal mastery and vacuous performance left me cold. While Zoe Randell tuned her guitar and warmed up with the first verse of each song from their set list, Steve Hassett concerned himself with perfecting the subtlest of sound nuances, the likes of which only he could hear.

That said, musical perfectionism counts for something. Their acoustics sound delectably rich and intricate and it displays their vivid imagery with the simplest of sonic analogies. Luluc's ability to impress the mixed crowd with the sheer beauty of their musical landscapes and intricate melodic design was best exemplified in Little Suitcase and The Wealthiest Queen. From the gentle timbre of Randell's voice, to the vaulting resonance of Hassett's vintage guitar, Luluc's musicality is an exact science executed with the scope of a musical sniper aimed at simple elegance.

Luluc's music left me unsatisfied despite its mastery. Luluc's withdrawn and introspective personality translates on stage into a docile, wispy performance. They manage to relegate the audience to its bare function; as a passive-receptive witness at the mercy of the artist's creation.

The similar sound structure of their musical cache lulled me into a stupor, which I would still be in now if the Jack Stafford Foundation had not come on next, to clear our audio palates. They must shake things up on stage or experiment with other audio styles in order to differentiate each song from the next.

Song to Listen to: Little Suitcase

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.

Review: How to Train Your Dragon (Dreamworks 2010)

How to Train Your Dragon (Dreamworks, 2010) is one of the computer animated generation of films that makes me almost shameful to recount my own deprived childhood experiences of Fern Gully and Aladin. The plot, adapted from an if-not-already then soon- to-be-beloved children's novel by Cressida Cowell, is a simple underdog turns hero pre-adolescent action adventure fantasy set in the mythological ancient past of Viking lore. All hail Odin!

The protagonist, Hiccup, yearns for the acceptance of his people and his father. He suffers from the customary adolescent angst of not living up to his parental expectations. He is brains in a barbarous community where brawn is valued. The survival of Hiccups' people depend on their ability to defend themselves against the pillaging dragons who execute a constant barrage of their resources. Thus the enemy is established in the dragons and the heros are merciless slayers. As Hiccup compensates for his weakly physique with an engineers brain, he manages to capture a dragon with an aereal assault weapon he has designed. It is a defining moment in our protagonist's tale when he has the opportunity to claim a kill and finally be accepted as a functionally agressive member of his community. Except he can't kill the dragon because he identifies with it.

His personal revelation and sucessive acts of mercy allow a friendship to form between the dragon and himself.This friendship redefines his historical compsote of the 'enemy' and through understanding and communication, brains over brawn, leads to a new equilibrium between the two species. The moral is powerful enough for an adult to make cultural critiques with and explicit enough for the kids to absorb. With themes of belonging and otherness, trusting and being true to your own nature, identification and conflicting parental expectations, civic duty and blind obedience, and environmental stewardship this is a tale that is current, relevant and accessible to all ages.

As usual Dreamworks' visuals are rich and textured. The world created for this movie is dynamic and immersive. The imaging is intricate and decidedly creative. There are more than seven different kinds of dragons for the kids to collect in McDonald's Happy Meals (if not here yet, they're probably still in production). With tails flicking over the audience, fiery breath just barely scorching the second row and a magic dragon ride or two, the 3D effects add to the fantastical psychosomatic experience. It's always fun to watch an audience physically respond to the screen, especially those invountary spasms and audible squeals from the adult behind you.

As burly Vikings apparently had more hair than Cousin It, I was very impressed by how palpable the texture of their manes actually were and how each 'do's quality varied from each character; with the 3D I felt like I could actually reach out an pet one. The only caveat of the animated hair was that there was little movement, a kink I expect to be worked out for the next hairy sequel (if not in production, the idea will surface soon). I ferverently believe that when a character can shake their locks and it really looks like a beach side Pamela Anderson having a Herbal Essences moment, we will have perfected computer animation.

With all the attention paid to the realism of the graphics, I'm sure the producation designers were not focused on the identification they were creating by making the brutish Viking's parlance in Scottish brogue, when it could have been culturally appropriate english spoken with Norse accent. In giving the aggressive old timers the Scottish dialect and then Americanizing the dialogue of the youngster heros there was a clear message of not only the 'new west is best' but also that 'Scots equal brutes'. Sure my five year old didn't pick up on that and it probably wasn't intended, since Craig Ferguson and Gerrard Butler could probaly not do a good Norse-ESL dialect, but with the a main theme of belonging and otherness this should have been more carefully addressed.

Aside from having to sit in the nosebleed section of the second row, my five year old and I enjoyed this movie tremendously. We both want dragons to call our own, mine will be blue and will spit poison fire darts and hers will be black and super sonic like Toothless. We give it five fire-belches up. When my Cineplex Odeon second row repetitive strain injury subsides, I may endeavour to see it again, higher up the seating ladder where my 3D glasses will actually cover the entire screen.