Summer camps and swimming pools aside, I admit that I’m not the biggest fan of the Great Outdoors. I am undeniably a creature of comfort, and my brand of comfort typically involves the adjustable warmth of re-circulated air and the reliability of a 60-watt bulb. So it comes as a surprise, even to myself, that my preferred setting for a concert is not defined by four walls and a ceiling. Forget the expansive arenas, move past your city’s intimate clubs and dusky dive bars. The real concert experience, with all its moments of aural perfection and visual vibrancy, lies beneath the unpredictable skies of open-air venues.
Such was certainly the case at Toronto’s Centre Island, where four homegrown outfits and one international favourite came together to put on the day-long Olympic Island Music Festival. Oppressive heat and no real seating were but minor annoyances, easily overcome by a few bottles of water and a lack of concern for the condition of your clothing.
As it turned out, my enjoyment of each performance was inversely proportional to the distance from which I viewed it. While proximity can certainly affect one’s perception, this judgment is also highly influenced by the fact that we moved closer to the stage for our preferred bands, and didn’t bother shoving our way to the front for the others.
Taken in at the greatest distance was Raising the Fawn, rightly made the openers for the day’s festivities. The swells and slopes of their art-rock sound approached, but in the end fell short of, the epic quality for which they were most certainly going. Better luck next year, boys. A few more venues under their belt will help the ‘Fawn to gain a little more control and cohesion. To their credit, Raising the Fawn did take the time to slow down and get into each of their songs, obviously relishing the concert experience and not settling for what might have otherwise been a throwaway performance.
J. Mascis, Dinosaur Jr.’s infamous lead singer/guitarist, was next on the bill, backed not by his band, but by various members of Broken Social Scene. The collaboration created an odd visual: to the uninitiated in the crowd, it would have appeared that five indie beards and one Navaho Indian had taken to jamming together. The set was an unrelenting pick-me-up much needed after Raising the Fawn’s lackluster showing. Two drummers worked in tandem to assault the audience’s ears with massive amounts of rhythm, never missing a beat in a performance so synchronized, it had to have been choreographed. What little interaction with the crowd there was can be entirely attributed to Kevin Drew (who, might I add, was looking a bit Ashton Kutcher in his striped polo shirt and trucker hat), but pleasantries weren’t all that necessary - J. Mascis’ face-melting guitar solos intoned everything that needed to be said.
Feist provided a nice -- but somewhat uncalled for -- respite from the squealing guitar action laid out by Mr. Mascis. Maybe it was just the distance between us, but the subtleties of Feist’s music seem to get lost without proper enclosure. Feist’s vocal work is a bit frail, and beautifully so, but unfortunately it appears that her body is following the trend. Take notes out of Bowie’s music book, yes, and maybe imitate his style, too, but don’t believe him for a second when he says that image is everything. Skeletal may be the new black, but someone needs to get that girl a grilled cheese sandwich or two. Amy Milan, get on that. Maybe beefing up Feist’s physique will help to beef up her live performances, but in the meantime, her work will best appreciated where a stiff wind can’t steal her songs away.
Bloc Party were the foreigners of the bunch, but the only real giveaway was singer/guitarist Kele Okereke’s heavy (and quite sexy) British accent, to which we were frequently exposed. Bloc Party can take the Best Banter award back with them to England, because of any of the bands, they put the most effort into working the crowd. Their set was well-oiled and taut; though they are a relatively new band, it is obvious they they’ve done their share of touring. Bloc Party were nothing if not enjoyable, but they might’ve really rocked the island had they loosened some of their screws and broken out of their self-imposed 4/4 shackles. Clockwork is only fun for watchmakers and Loonette – to catch the interest of everyone else, you’ve got to take things apart a little.
As the sweltering afternoon shifted into a chill night, Broken Social Scene took the stage in all of their well-documented glory . Thus began a solid hour of everything-but-the-kitchen-sink sound that included, of all things, the performance of an impromptu “rock opera” (Kevin’s words, not mine). Although Bloc Party were the ones who kept telling us that their next song was a dance number, it was Broken Social Scene who really made me want to move. The highlight of the show was the bombastic mid-set spree of “Superconnected”, which had the greater portion of the crowd thrashing in time to its killer bass line. The Grateful Dead having long been gratefully dead, it’s high time that Broken Social Scene be crowned the new kings (and queens) of the live performance. And distance be damned: we left as Broken Social Scene moved into a three-song encore, and I can attest that all three of those songs sounded amazing from a kilometer away.
The eight hours of Olympic Island could easily have been a slice taken out of Hillside [Festival]’s full weekend of festivities. The real differences between the two events lay outside of the realm of the musical. Bondy may have summed it up best in saying that Olympic Island is very “Toronto”, while Hillside is more “Guelph”. At Olympic Island, you’re served hotdogs, hamburgers, Pizza Pizza and Labatt Blue. The audience is younger, richer, and infinitely more fashionable. There is one attraction, and that attraction is on the main stage. At Hillside, vegan alternatives outnumber the recognizable dishes. Aging hippies and apathetic hipsters rock side-by-side. Drum circles, workshops, and mini-jam sessions carry on throughout the day, even as the headliners take centre stage.
Olympic Island can be seen as a streamlined version of Hillside. Hillside Lite, if you will: sugar free; low in cholesterol; zero trans fats. All good consumers know that the light choice is the right choice. Too bad it’s never as good as the full-fat version.
-Heather Burnett
