babylonDon

Ahem.....Case in point.

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ianmine

ianmine

can I just say this?

Canadian 'stardom' is a funny thing...we love our home grown talent, but often times don't really respect them til they've made it big elsewheres - Stateside or over the Big Water...The Hip is one of the few exceptions to the rule...virtually unknown outside of Canada (except mebbe to Trailer Park Boy's fan, as Guestie once pointed out!) , they are Music Hall of Famers here...it's true many of their lyrics are truly Canadian (if there is such a thing ) and as such perhaps only we really 'get' them...lol...but musically? After mannny years together they are a tight team who know where each 'team' members' talents lie and use them accordingly....and well.

babylonDon

Indeed. And I'll get to all that...But first?

A little more about me.

For about thirty years now, I've been consumed by live rock and roll. Lived it, breathed it. Hundreds of Dead shows, all across America, hundreds of other bands. At a whim, on a moments notice, or anticipated for months. I've seen a lot of concerts. In giant stadiums, grade school gymnasiums or sprawling race tracks.

Consequently, I'm pretty damn good at the mechanics of festival shows. I know how to keep your tushy dry, if the ground is wet. I know how to move through dense crowds of entranced drunks and/or stoners. I can usually get you really close to the front, and I can tell when there's no point trying to get there.

But I've been at it, a long time. And the music, I generally go in for, is that of a somewhat older crowd. The ones who aren't as interested in rushing the stage and already know how much they can drink before vomiting. I don't go to many shows anymore where the median age is way lower than mine, or bands that are wildly popular.

Anyway, that's why I was so surprised last night to find myself surrounded by an old nemesis.....



The 'Bro' Nation.

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McCain '08: 'He'll Get Those Kids Off Your Lawn'

“Ahh, Cat Juggling. The sport of kings. Crazy, crazy kings.”- Oscar Wilde

ianmine

oh, pleeze do go on.....

W.M.DEEEZ

Yes...please do...I feel as if I'm there.


I too have been to countless shows, in much the same manner you have. Funny how you can remember what was in the puke from the guy in front of you, when you were trapped on line waiting to get into a stadium 30 some odd years ago.



Your review (so far) sounds exactly how I speak (mostly to myself) after a show. One poke of the killer skunk on the way in, and I take note of each and every moment. The "unnoticed" interactions between musicians, the "oops" moments, the amazing moments, the esoteric riffs from other songs tossed in...just to see who was paying attention...


Sounds like you two are having a great time...stay dry........




Bro nation? Is that the "dudes" who missed the 60's/70's the first time?

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babylonDon

Thanks! I'm glad you're enjoying.

The Bro Nation is made up of young males 18-23 or so, who travel in packs of no less than three, up to a dozen. Often there will be one young female with them. I'm not sure what she gets out of the relationship, but the Bros like to have her around, as it takes the sting of homosexuality out of their relations.

The Bro nation, so called because they refer to each other as 'Bro' or Broham' or some other nonsensical variation of the theme, are one another's greatest admirers. In fact, they don't really seem to regard the rest of us as human. They do not see you as a person, only as an obstacle, like a pylon, to be maneuvered around, over or even through.

They are drunk. Very drunk. If this fact was not obvious by their behavior, you will note it from the fact they will shout this information to each other, "BRO! I'm/you're/we're fuckin' WASTED!!!!!" Their relationship requires all pertinent facts to be imparted to one another. At full volume.

They do not actually need to be at any event they attend, other than to have their physical presence attached to that event. They don't REALLY care what's going on. The important thing is that they are enjoying it, with all their infinite gusto.

They know the words to the songs. You are made aware of that fact, by virtue of them shouting the words to each other. They also have no sense of perspective (or irony). Last night the Bros around us yelled the words to each other, to a ballad, called 'Pretty Things'. Imagine 3? 5? guys yelling the words 'pretty things' to one another at top volume, as if they were calling for 'De-Fense!' or alerting each other to a house fire.

One even memorably yelled the guitar bridge at one point, in his enthusiasm, for the music he was trying to drown out.

"DO DOO DOO DOO DOO DOO-DAHHHHH!!!!!

Extended contact with packs of Bros' will either make you a philosopher, or a homicidal maniac. Either way, it will make you smell of spilt beer.

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McCain '08: 'He'll Get Those Kids Off Your Lawn'

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W.M.DEEEZ

Ahhhh...the bro nation...I believe you forgot to mention that they never seem to own shirts. I've met this bunch too....particularly funny/out of place at Dead shows....

Mixing a little violence in with their peace and love..."Jerry....you motherfuckin rock!"


And yes...we are capable of noting the ability, or lack thereof, to move even closer to the stage. We make the mental calculations based on two issues...

Is there room down there to (reasonably) comfortably fit one, or in your case two more people?

How can we navigate to the target without stomping someone in the process?


The "bro's" take no such issues into consideration...they see the stage, they lean forward and proceed "further". Rather awkward when your spot is the one they targetted. Now, you've got almost enough room to stand there with your arms pinned to your sides.


And yes...there always seems to be enough beer to spill a little on you.

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babylonDon

They own shirts. Fine shirts. You just have to catch them early enough in their broministrations. Back in the days you recall, they were Izod. Now they tend to be Abercrombie & Fitch. But they own the very finest of everything, have brought it with, and by god they're gonna use it. A bro thinks nothing of moving directly in front of you, and immediately calling another bro, to find out how the trip to the bathroom is going. And if you're in a line waiting to use the john, you know that other bro is gonna take the call while standing at the urinal.

But a bro can be generous. He will stand in front of you, and hold his camera up to record, allowing you to watch the show on the little screen on the back......

But yes, Dead shows were home field for our ilk, they never lasted there.

And really, I think bros should be free to pursue their bromances, at bro type functions. I don't show up at frat parties and act like i'm not a dick. It would be rude and inappropriate.

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McCain '08: 'He'll Get Those Kids Off Your Lawn'

“Ahh, Cat Juggling. The sport of kings. Crazy, crazy kings.”- Oscar Wilde

babylonDon

Now that we've established context, (Canadians of all shapes and sizes REALLY like Tragically Hip) I feel like we can discuss the show.

The Hip have always been a solid band to me. I like them a lot. They've got a front man, with a taste for esoteric lyrics and bizarre behavior. It helps to know that they started life as Doors cover band. The rest of the band is fantastic. Their songs are structured in an open-ended, loose fashion, that allows for lots of room to maneuver. And the band is both confident and talented enough to use that space to their full advantage.

They've been touring in support of their latest album 'World Container', and had been in Ottawa recently. But this was a festival, and the crowd was 23,000 strong, and openly adoring.

This show was a victory lap. It was a mutual admiration rite, bordering on orgiastic. This was a blow-out of epic proportion.

They opened with a song off the new album, a single that received heavy air play in Canada called 'In View'. It was well-received from the opening notes...But they were pumped up by the crowd, and by the time they finished that song had taken off all the way up the mountain, and there was no looking back.

By this time it had been made clear to me, that Gordon Downy, is not to be regarded as merely mortal. He was riding waves of love heretofore reserved for Jerry Garcia, or Christ....Or Super Golden Christ.

And Downy was eating it up with both hands. Every drop of sweat that popped up on his shaved head, was blotted with a tissue, and every tissue bearing the sacred sweat was tossed magnanimously to the grateful thronging the stage.
He also twirls, bends, and breaks microphone stands, with an entertaining flourish.

Don't get me wrong, I believe Downy gets it. But he was plainly enjoying the the irony, of behaving like the guy most of these good people would avoid on the bus, and being revered for it. He contorts, drags his knuckles like an ape man, and screams at unexpected moments. And the crowd is riveted. They never take their eyes off him, and reward each lurch, gesture, and tic, with unabashed joy.

Which in a way, is a real shame. Downy is a high energy, antic front man, and he deserves notice, but let's hear it for the band, eh? Granted, they are not visually spectacular, in comparison. But that's probably because they're busy ripping up the songs. They were unrelenting. And they were certainly feeding off the crowd as well. I've heard most of the music they played Thursday, live and on album, and they absolutely sailed past anything I've ever heard them do before. Even ballads like 'Ahead By A Century' and 'Wheat Kings', that started off..well pretty, took on leathery, behemoth wings, and buzzed the grounds. When Downy picks up his acoustic and they go into a three guitar attack, hold on. Because they are gonna take it 'somewhere'.

And that's how the rest of the show played out. The individual songs, while all known and oh-so-loved, ceased to be anything more than launchpads for jams, that were both powerful and layered. The rhythm section is outstanding, the drummer holding down the beat and suggesting new direction, without a lot of self-indulgent rolls.The bass flows underneath like a white water river made of boxing gloves.
The rhythm guitarist, knows his songs and plays cunningly around them, with more filigrees and subtlety than average, and the lead guitarist wends his way through all of it with an alternating current of nuance and demand, and did so through the entire show.

It was truly a spectacle. To me, it was like being a fan of Clark Kent, and then finding myself inside the phone booth while he changed into superman.

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McCain '08: 'He'll Get Those Kids Off Your Lawn'

“Ahh, Cat Juggling. The sport of kings. Crazy, crazy kings.”- Oscar Wilde