Buck Up, Buckaroo.

What was originally intended to be two very different, very separate, very contrastingly-sized shows ended up being blended into one Warner-label family extravaganza. I'm still not entirely sure why the swap was made, but it made the evening both easier to write about, and more interesting. Each band had elements about their music that related them to one another, but ultimately, it still seemed like two very different shows. The crowd was by and large a Buck 65 crowd, and the openers may have suffered a bit from that, but hopefully some of the crowd would be turned on to the first two bands.

Following the late-as-always soundchecks and a quick dinner, I arrived back at the Commodore to see what Matthew Barber was all about. I had been told he can really rock out, and he proved himself worthy of such a feat here. Despite the crowd seeming a bit confused by the music, Barber and his band, The Union Dues, played a succinct, rousing set of songs, mostly culled from his recent EP, The Story Of Your Life. The Toronto-based group stomped and twanged around the stage, never becoming completely rambunctious, but remaining pleasantly active. The audience stayed mostly in their seats, save for a few interested folks who braved the big empty floor and approached the stage for a closer look. I'd love to comment on ways in which Barber interacted with his audience, but there really wasn't much of one close enough for him to react to. I believe, despite the gorgeous looks of the lights and size of the room, as well as the larger, mostly unknowing crowd it was exposed to, that this band would have done better this time around in the original Media Club venue. I feel a bit bad, and am frankly embarrassed at the chatty crowd's general ignorance of the opening acts. Either way, the band did a fine job, with Barber's strong, clear-as-a-bell voice pinging out over top of solid, slightly-poppy rock songs, and ending the set with "Sentimental Acumen", a tune that was rerecorded for his major label release.

Following that set, Matt Mays & El Torpedo wandered out onto the stage to, again, a yapping crowd that offered up little fanfare to welcome them to the room. Such a change from seeing him play the same venue to a sold-out crowd of Sam Roberts Band fans not even half a year earlier. Thankfully, a couple rows' worth of people slowly straggled into place, and they all seemed to be beaming with giant smiles and began to cheer as they watched this band kick it up a few notches.

The set contained a lot of new material, some of which I remember from the earlier shows, but most of which I am ignorant of the titles of. I know one's called "Traveling," and they played it second, and there's a tune called "Cocaine Cowgirl" that's a pretty big standout. They also included some songs from the self-titled Warner release, such as "Where Am I Going?" and the single, "City Of Lakes." Really, the people who came up to the front had no choice but to do so; this stuff is really infectious. Everyone else in the room must have either been hardasses or just too dumbfounded to move.

The tunes rollick along easily. It's very much an "escapist Canadiana" vibe, if that makes any sense. Lyrics about how long it takes to move across this land, feeling the road through your hands on a truck steering wheel… it's all about how you move and why. Midnight in Saskatchewan, a tepid cup of coffee sloshing about in the cupholder, half a bag of chips strewn, crumbled bits scattered, in the seat beside you, a slow country song crackling through the speakers on staticy radio waves, and that one little rip in the vinyl upholstery that you keep getting your pant leg snagged on, an oncoming set of headlights every ten minutes or so, a faint flickering light in the window of a farmhouse in the distance… Somehow, this is what comes to mind, even watching them play live.

The band is alive on stage, using breakdowns in the middle of songs to fly around the stage and play various instruments at each other. One of the tunes has the band members dropping their hands from their instruments throughout the verses to do one deliberate, loud clap before going back to play for a couple bars (repeat). And somewhere in the middle of the set, a very short cord connecting Mays' guitar to one of his pedals kept hanging him up whenever he'd wander to the back of the stage. He and guitarist Jarrett Murphy kept swapping places, and the end result was the two of them getting their guitar cords completely tangled around one another's, and Murphy tripping slightly over Mays' cord, yanking it out of the pedal and silencing it for a moment. As soon as Mays realized what happened, he exchanged a smile with his bandmate, plugged it back in, and carried on like nothing had ever happened. Until he mentioned it in the next break between songs, that is.

So, they have a very obvious and striking kinship on stage together, and they didn't seem to let it faze them that the audience was so sparse. They made an impression and affected certainly a number of new people, and that's what really makes the difference in the end anyhow.

Then, it was time for Buck 65 to take the stage.

Now, finally, those in attendance actually came onto the floor in front of the stage, clustered up to the edge, and started to move and react a bit. Buck 65 himself, also known as Rich Terfry, wandered out on stage in the same sharp grey suit we'd seen him in during the afternoon during his personal media circus. He shuffled through a stack of records, placed one on the turntable at his side, pushed a few buttons on his minidisc player, and took his place behind the microphone.

Now, the easy-talking man developed a low rumbling growl to his voice. It made everything he had to say seem 1000 times more important than it would have if he'd been speaking just regularly - even just something like, "Watch me drink this water." He started the set with his gigantic break-out single, "Wicked And Weird". He sang everything alone to his plethora of loops and records, and proved to be incredibly entertaining despite only using about two square feet of stage space. Between songs, he engaged the crowd in his absurd stories, all told in that grumbling voice. He told us of his first long-ago forays into Vancouver, playing in small clubs. He talked about Christina Aguilera. He gave us the rundown on his mostly-manhood-oriented "Centaur" song, which had been a request.

Perhaps one of his most engaging stories was one of the video shoot for his latest single at the time, "463". The Nova Scotia native began by mentioning that, due to the mostly-nude nature of his video appearance, he decided being body-hairless would be the best way to go. But, being afraid of sharp objects (razors), and dismissing the pain of waxing right off the bat, his only option for hair removal was the depilatory cream. Only, he's a man, so he doesn't read directions, but he figured the longer you leave something like that on, the better it will work. So some time later (a matter of hours apparently), he noticed a sizzling sound, before even registering any pain. He looks down and notices a "boiling going on in this area," indicating his nipples. He rushed to the shower to wash himself off, but the damage had been done. Later, at the shoot outdoors in the cold cold weather, he claims one of those nipples just popped right off, and he never found it. Then he performed "463" for us.

Not only was he a great speaker; he was also very theatrical on stage. He used his hands and facial expressions to act out every moment of his music and lyrics. Later in the set, he revealed how this might have come to pass. Terfry mentioned having been part of an improv class long ago, and his instructor taught them to, when performing, always visualize an object to concentrate on and create a stage presence. He mused that he believed Rolling Stone Mick Jagger's object was a curtained window, on the other side of which is standing a child who did something very bad. He then demonstrated perfectly Jagger's signature shimmying and finger-wagging stage style, all the while narrating how he'd be parting the curtains and scolding the child.

I was also somewhat stunned and pleased to hear him quote some Mitch Hedberg during his set. Terfry never mentioned the name of the hilarious one-liner comedian he spoke of, but there's really no mistaking a line like, "This shirt is dry clean only… which means it's dirty." He also mentioned the old, "a severed foot is the best stocking stuffer," line. Gold. To end off his set, Buck 65 did a remix-on-speed of "Wicked And Weird". Interesting way to come full-circle, and the excited, dancing crowd just absolutely ate it up.

And so this peculiar triple-bill of Warner artists came to a close. The 700-odd people shuffled out of the Commodore and off into the night.

Elsewhere

By Andy Scheffler
Photos : Andy Scheffler
Published : April 22, 2004.