NxNE: Night 1

The first night of NxNE was a bit of a mixed bag. Started off at the Horseshoe with Tift Merritt, who seems to be generating her fair share of buzz. Unfortunately, I got there a little late and only caught her last 2 or 3 songs. But I generally liked what I heard. She's got a real purty voice, which purty much matches the rest of her. And she knew her way around that geetar, too. Played with a lot of vigour and confidence. It was just her and a guy who alternated between pedal steel and electric piano. Sounded really nice. The songs I heard showed a strong affinity with classic country songwriting, a la George and Tammy. The kind of chord changes you can only write if you've got a pain in your heart and tear in your eye. Will definitely have to check her out next time she comes to town. Yes, she "Merritts" further listening.

I skipped out on Martina Sorbara, and headed up to Rancho Relaxo to see "Swearing At Motorists". Aside from being a favourite and frequent past time of mine, they're also a band that I heard good things about from last year's fest. When I arrive at the door at the bottom of the stairs at Rancho, I show my delegate pass to the blue-shirted festival volunteer, and he says "uh-oh". I take that as a bad sign. He says "just a sec" and calls for someone else to come down, a senior door person, I suppose, to consult on the "uh-oh"-ness of the sitch. I can see at the top of the stairs inside the club that it looks pretty crowded. Blue shirt #2 says, 'okay. I'll take him around back' and leads me to the corner, up the side street, down the alley, and up the back fire escape that leads through the back door of the Rancho. As we're climbing the fire escape stairs, she asks me to try and stay near the back of the club, which is fine with me. And then she says "so, which band are you in?" I briefly consider making up a band name. The Horsefly Conspiracy. Brando's Bad Hair Day. Why Can't Jimmy Reed. The StareMasters. Beasts You Love... but I'm just too damned honest, and I say "oh, I'm not in a band. I'm with a magazine." You see, the pass says, under my name, "Canadian Musician". I think they were reading it as "hi, I'm a ..." instead of the more correct "Hi, I write for..." Anyway, it doesn't matter. They still let me in, as they should. I just feel less cool about it.

Swearing At Motorists are from Dayton, Ohio. They were okay, although I think I missed out on some of their energy because I stayed back by the bar. It was really packed up front. There are only two members in the band ñ guitar and drums ñ the drummer is also a member of Guided By Voices ñ but they sounded bigger ñ like guitar and drums and bass. The frontman had quite a flare for gab, and was busy between songs boosting other Ohio bands who were at the fest. Not a bad performance, although I found the singer was a tad self-consciously flamboyant. I should have moved up closer.

Next, I headed north, executing my end-the-night-on-Bloor-so-i-can-catch-the-subway-after-the-last-show-because-I-have-to-get-up-for-work-in-the-morning plan. I passed on the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club at Lee's and instead scooted a few blocks over to the Tranzac to see Kathryn Rose. Never been to the Tranzac before, probably because I never served our country in WWII. It looks like a Legion or some sort of community social club. I'm sure the walls have echoed with "Bingo!" more often than they've vibrated from real live rock music.

"Do you have Amsterdam Nut Brown?" I ask the bartender, having recently left my pilsner paramour Steam Whistle and returned to the robust arms of my darker, nuttier mistress.

"No, but we have (something mumbled), which is like that," he says through half-closed lids.

Okay, sounds fine. He slides me a light, amberish, tepid glass of disappointment.

Sigh.

I lean against the bar and crane my neck to see the 500-ft high stage. Actually it's probably more like 5-feet high, but it just seems so high off the floor, compared to most clubs. There's even a small 3-foot high patch of demi-stage in front in case the performers need to come down for thicker air, easier breathing. After a few of Kathyrn Rose's songs, I'm wishing she would come down a little closer to earth. Great voice, lots of presence, but she's a bit of a drama queen. Striking poses. Literally. Not completely unenjoyable, to be sure, has a certain power, but just wasn't doing it for me. I don't even recall if i stayed for the whole set. I don't think so.

I downed the dregs of my disappointment and set my hopes higher for the following night.