People who cancel concert plans at the last minute are selfish. Not only do you inconvenience the person who originally invited you, but you also burden one of that person’s unsuspecting, musically-disinclined friends with the duty of going to the show as to not waste the extra ticket.
It was the role of the musically-disinclined friend (and photographer) that my colleague Sam was playing when he found himself at the 70s-esque Starlight Social Club in uptown Waterloo. At odds with the venue’s retro disco bar decor was the evening’s headlining band: one of Canada’s premier (though woefully underheard) rock bands, the Constantines. Sam had never heard of them, nor of Jon-Rae and The River, the Constantine’s alt-country-synth mutant beast of an opener. However, in my continuing mission to expose the boy to new music, I decided the show would be an excellent opportunity to slingshot Sam into the kaleidoscopic world of indie rock. It is at shows like these where anyone, given the right band and the right performance, can catch the bug that is independent music.
Jon-Rae and the River were out to prove me right that evening. Their bombastic fervor caught the audience by surprise. It was like someone had taken Grandaddy and mashed them and their synthesizers together with an alternative country band lead by a gospel singer. Singer/guitarist Ron-Rae, decked out in a tattered brown collared shirt, worn jeans, and 80’s-style thick-framed bifocals, belted out each song – in a Southernesque accent, no less - as if the microphone was broken. Backing him up and even taking the lead at times was the talented Anne Rust D'eye. The two often forgot about the microphones all together and sung to each other, or other band members, seeming to be just merrily practicing and unaware of the audience’s presence. Constantines’ frontman Bry Webb would later say, “These guys are the best band in the world,” and although it was hyperbole for the most part, Jon-Rae’s stunning performance allowed everyone to see where Webb was coming from.
Before the audience could catch its collective breath, the Constantines were out to steal the show back from the Ron-Rae and his pack of thieves. Bry Webb sang each song with the same raspy voice the audience had come to know and love; the band delivered their trademark sound with passion and skill. Yet the evening’s Sonic Excellence vs. Time graph was looking rather like a sine function, oscillating back and forth between hit and miss. “Young Lions”, “Tank Commander” and “Some Party” captured the band’s power and intensity, but songs from “Tournament of Hearts”, like “Hotline Operator”, seemed to fall short of the mark. “Nighttime/Anytime”, with its hammering guitars and driving percussion, brought a moment of pure sonic glory to the show, an occurrence that was sadly not often repeated during the night.
Towards the end of the show, the crowd was still a blob of nodding heads and pumping fists, but it had lost its initial enthusiasm. I found Sam navigating the room, looking for interesting shots (not necessarily of the band), somewhat disinterested with the music. His indifference was a sentiment that I was beginning to share. The show continued, and the band was playing as animatedly as ever, yet this energy failed to translate to the crowd. The Constantines brought the show to an admirable close, inviting Jon Rae and The River back for the final hurrah of the evening, but the show failed to leave you with that definitive feeling of seeing a truly first-rate show; the kind that makes you want to run home and re-listen to all the band’s albums.
Poor Sam. My slingshot was pulled back far enough, but as if wielded by a poor marksman, it was just shy of the bull’s eye.
-Ludwik A. Sobiesiak
