NXNE Friday Report #2

HOT
Bellwether's two self-released albums were both country-rock gems, if a bit on the introspectively folky tip. So their storming appearance at Ted's Wrecking Yard was a welcome surprise. Raw, reckless and running-on-the-spot giddy with enthusiasm, the four Minneapolis muchachos conjured images of the Replacements when they didn't give a shit and the Jayhawks when they did. A twanged-up revision of Prince's When You Were Mine had folks slapping their palms purple with delight. Wilco who?

The word on Burning Brides was all "Sabbath this" and "Stooges that" which always leaves me skeptical but still intrigued enough to check out their action. Imagine my utter shock when the Philly power trio, led by the gargantuan Mosrite-slapping Dimitri Coats, actually lived up to the advance buzz. After watching the Brides relentlessly pummel through the melodic mess of their Fall of the Plastic Empire (File 13) disc, it's entirely understandable why Dave Grohl and Mudhoney's Mark Arm have added their names to the group's fast growing fan list.

Nothing brings the malevolence out of the Killer Elite like a roomful of badge-wearing music conference types and the lighter fluid cans littering the Lee's Palace stage prior to their set was a promising sign - as was the two extra jugs of water hidden by the floor monitor. As the houselights went down, the flames went up around the drum kit and out bounced a fired-up Mike Gribben, decked out in Iron Sheik finery and brandishing a machete, while sidekick Nick Flannagan shouted in the faces of the brave few lining the stagefront. A beer-dousing good time.

NOT
All the "Best new artist of the century" hoopla about great Welsh pop hope Matthew Jay proved to be a lot of Brit wind. The weedy Jay, shaking visibly behind his big acoustic guitar, strummed twee ballads as his bored guitarist played with an e-bow. Quite possibly the next Ben Lee!

It wasn't third time lucky for Austin's burly Blued. Although they started out promisingly thuggish, it soon turned sluggish and they lost more steam with each progressively sillier love song. Ho hum.

Stuff you shouldn't think of missing on Saturday night:
D-Sisive: Pimply suburban mall rats agree, Toronto rap upstart D-Sisive is a smarter, funnier DeGrassi-obsessed version of Eminem with a healthy distaste for Tom Cochrane. His DJ Serious-produced joint "Popped" was an unexpected highlight of the new Scratch (Rawkus) hiphop comp and according to the screwy rhyme he left on my voice mail, his Reverb showcase at 9 pm will be "something that no one in Toronto has done before!"

Saggy Pants Boyz: If the name sounds oddly similar to the Soggy Bottom Boys, well you can't blame these mysterious bearded dudes for trying to skirt potential legal action for performing the old timey tunes of the Stanley Brothers with more gusto than you'll hear on the O Brother, Where Art Thou? soundtrack at Lee's Palace from 11-11:30 pm.