Thursday night round-up - June 11, 2004

While I was kinda bummed about the wind/cool factor during the day, Thursday's slightly chilly weather was perfectly suited to NXNE's packed clubs and rushing between shows rhythm. I remember being claustrophobic and dripping with sweat last year, when the festival fell during more stifling climes, but this time around, the combo of lower temperatures and smoke-free venues made the experience so much better.

It was actually quite surprising how well concert-goers have adjusted to the no smoking bylaw. I expected to see at least a few weasely industry types covertly lighting up in corners, but everyone behaved themselves at pretty much every show. Amazing how much more enjoyable watching live music is, even as a smoker (which I am), when you're not squinting through a bluish haze and worrying about having to leave your clothes outside to air out later that night. Of course, it meant that the Queen West strip was jam-packed with anxious puffers between every set, but that's not such a high price to pay.

The showcase element of the fest got off to a rocky start. Checked out new Maplemusic signing, West Coast singer/songwriter Ridley Bent, at the Rivoli at 9 pm, but was underwhelmed by his whiteboy rhymin' and strummin' shtick. Think Dave Matthews with a crush on Buck 65, big ears and a penchant for ganja. We left the industry-heavy crowd (Eggplant's Patrick Sambrook and Michael Schipper were killing time before the Sarah Harmer show at Lee's, and Paper Bag's Amanda Newman was just killing time, period) to catch the end of Ford Pier's set down the street at the 'Shoe. The newly-transplanted BC belter had a great frenetic stage presence and impressed us when he broke a string and turned his desperate call for a new guitar into part of the tune. His band -- which included arty producer Michael Philip Wojewoda on drums -- valiantly improvised behind him, which was amazing when we discovered they'd never played together before last night. It almost compensated for the bizarro taser noises that marred Pier's final song.

Wandered into the 360 next for rising phenom Shawn Hewitt's angular funk-rock-soul explosion with super-solid backing band The National Stripe. Holy shit, the dude was on. The crowd was uniformly transfixed by Hewitt's intense stare, hand claps, turbo-charged keyboard licks and liquid soul vocals. Effortlessly tossed-off lines like "Stephen Harper, you foolish man," during the cryptically titled Amazons in the Attic suggested Hewitt has more than just killer instrumental chops behind him -- he's got music with a mission and a passionate critique. As SS Cardiac cutie Jessie Stein commented, "That guy's gonna be a huge rock star."

Tried to make it into Elliott Brood's death-country throwdown at the Cameron next, but ended up waiting in the queue that trickled down into the front room till their set wrapped up, and vowed (once again) to forgo further forays into the cramped locale during festival time. That said, after last year's experience of too many frustrating attempts to catch buzz bands that ended in extended line-ups and missed sets, we were shocked by the relative efficiency of last night's crawl. Could've been a reflection of the lack of hype around many of Thursday's performers (when hot buzz guy Matt Mays plays his midnight set tonight at Lee's, be there early).

Brian Borcherdt's 11 pm set at the 'Shoe was remarkably well-received by the female-heavy crowd. We dug it, although we spent much of our time wondering whether the Cobain undertones in his vocals were intentional. The mix seemed a bit off as well -- the femme vocalist grew increasingly frustrated that her harmonies were buried under layers of fuzzy bass, and even Borcherdt's cries of anguish seemed to dissipate into the soupy blend from time to time.

The highlight of the night was by far Philly's Stiffed, who had hiphop headz and skate-punks nodding and jumping like crazed bobble-heads during their midnight set at the 360. We saw them open for Graph Nobel at a weird Holy Joe's showcase two years ago and have been dying for a repeat performance ever since. The new wave-punk four-piece didn't disappoint. While their hooks are solid but nothing special, they've got power in Bad Brains drummer Chuck Treece's insanely tight rhythms -- and, more importantly, a charismatic dynamo in frontwoman Santi Smith, one of the best performers I've ever seen onstage. She hammed it up with wiggly eyebrows and manic elastic facial acrobatics, oozed sex in sultry microphone dances, chatted it up with the audience and charmed with Blondieesque hiccuping vocals. Killer. We want to see more of them.

Finally wrapped up the night with a thwarted attempt to see the Changes (word has it they're like the White Stripes fronted by Stevie Ray Vaughan), but was appalled by the cacophony of the preceding band, who were still on the El Mo stage after 1 am. We headed down to the Bovine to catch a bit of Ratsicule's set, but their faux-Francais karaoke electro-punk coquettishness lost its charm so late in the night.

Looking good this evening (Friday): the NOW showcase at the Reverb, for a full night of killer acts -- local herky-jerky indie unpunks I Can Put My Arm Back On You Can't at 9 pm, cover girl and raucous country-rocker Kate Maki (backed by East Coasters El Torpedo) at 10 pm, indie folk balladeer Nathan Lawr and his Minotaurs at 11 pm, Parisian disco torch and sometime Broken Social Scenester Leslie Feist at midnight, and hyped Regina Rickenbacker punks Despistado at 1 am. Also: Matt Mays and El Torpedo at midnight at Lee's Palace; indie popsters SS Cardiacs at Clinton's at 10 pm; the Rainbow Quartz retro-garage extravaganza all night at Healey's (particularly soulful belter Denise James at 10 pm); and Philip Glass-approved experimental rockers NYCSmoke at Rancho Relaxo at 1 am.

SARAH LISS