The city was dripping with band members from this show all afternoon. I had, of course, been around the venue in the mid-afternoon, but afterwards, while I trolled the streets myself in search of caffeine and Japanese food, I criss-crossed paths with many of the men I would later see taking the stage at Richards. Nice to see they were out enjoying the off-and-on sunny springtimey Vancouver day.

Anyhow, the stage at Richards has been built out. The place has undergone many changes, from being an open stage, to having this little cavern-for-band-gear built at the back of it, and now, it has become more spacious again by having this sideways-catwalk thing built off the front of it. While the crowd was, as always, thin to begin with, this show differed by having a decent host of people immediately swing up to the floor space in front of the stage (a space heavily diminished by the new addition). Judging the crowd (a peculiar mix of black-clothed, black-haired, be-studded individuals, hipster girls in pointy-toed shoes and artfully-ripped 80’s-style tank tops, and demure-looking emo-college kids, many of whom looked too young to be at a bar show… am I getting that old?), I anticipated a bit of a boisterous night, and so safely tucked myself into a corner at the side of the stage, where it jutted out past a 7-foot-tall wall of speakers and gear. I quickly became pleased with my choice of locations, as the audience continued to grow and pile up in front of the stage, even before the night’s openers began playing.

Here’s the crappy part - I hadn’t known that there was a third band on this bill until I’d been at the venue that afternoon and seen them listed on the posters. If I’d been a bit more aware of KillRadio swinging through town, I most likely would have looked them up, discovered their unbelievable worth ahead of time, and we’d have a full-on set of articles and photos to share with everyone here. As it stands, we must make do with this review. Quietly, a group of four guys, each looking like they should belong to a different band, walked onto the stage and began plugging in guitars and setting their stuff up. They were efficient, and started playing pretty quick.

Honestly, this is a group of dudes who do not look like they should be as loud as they are.

I was shocked, what can I say? About six inches from my face were the American-flag-clad knees of an otherwise-naked bassist, whose torso was covered in tattoos, his hair long, black and dripping-wet with… I suppose water, but who knows, maybe it was beer or vodka. A singer-guitarist was wandering about the middle of the stage in a delightfully-70’s-looking plaid tweed jacket and too-short brown pants. His bare ankles ended in skate shoes, and on the whole, he looked fairly meek. That notion would soon be put to rest for good. A guitarist on the far side of the stage from me was simply outfitted in a button-down shirt and jeans, and the band’s drummer donned a short-sleeved white shirt and tie below his black-and-red locks. How did this motley crew find their way to one another?! Somehow I was expecting to hear a type of low-key emo-pop. Whether or not they’d prove to be shoe-gazers was yet to be determined.

But oh, how wrong my perceptions were. They began. Oh goodness. I was stunned. I was unable to properly react and realize what an alarmingly cohesive band they were for a few moments, because I was just so taken aback by all the screaming and leaping that issued forth from them. I went from wide-eyed, stilled amazement, to a brief period of incredulous laughter and head-shaking, to a well-settled-in, solid enjoyment of what was before me, all within their first song. That first song began with singer Brandon Jordan leaning near to the point of toppling over the front of the stage, and calling the crowd in closer. He did this mostly a cappella, and lyrically, but without any indication initially of what he was about to fling us all into. I was unable to get his first few lines down ver batim, and searching lyric sheets have been to no avail either, so I’m assuming that this little intro was made up either on-the-spot, or constructed purely for the beginning of sets, or else possibly this is part of a new song that just isn’t listed yet. It was something generally including listening to what they have to say, so come to the edge of the stage etc. And a lot of people obliged this request. Shortly thereafter, a lot more came up front of their own accord, grinning and jumping and whooping.

While initially, it was solely the music that grasped me and shook me about, it became apparent fairly swiftly that the anger and power and energy emanating from them is directly linked from discontent and fear about the state of the world, and America in particular. Government issues, war, über-corporations and the like are all cleverly dissected and expressed through analogous lyrics and huge heaping shovelfuls of onstage emotion. Today’s political climate fuels a lot of artistic fires in the young world - people have a voice and they’re going to use it, for better or for worse. They even told us right off that we are lucky to be living in Canada, as opposed to Hollywood, where they hail from. There was a song with a recurring line of freedom is all that I demand (this was a great song), which was dedicated to an 800,000-person pro-choice demonstration in Washington, DC the week before this show. The second song they performed was called "A.M.E.R.I.K.A.", which included such bare lines as the informed citizen became un-American / for reading a book instead of watching the television / supporting peace instead of supporting the president / die on the cross than for this fucking republican. They wanted to make a statement, and a statement they did indeed make. How much the crowd caught on to the message in the music, versus how much they were just enjoying the show, is undetermined, but they definitely succeeded in making a heap of new fans.

Jordan was a spectacular frontman, full of emotion and intensity. He quite literally made love to his microphone on a number of occasions, both from singing with his wide-open and howling mouth around the contraption, or just jerking the thing off as he clasped it between his legs. The mic stopped working a few times during the set, whether that was in protest to the abuse it endured or just Jordan’s flying saliva shorting it out, who knows. He leveraged himself on the monitors numerous times, with a feverish stare into the audience, veins springing out of his neck, and sprinkling his fingers about as if casting a spell on the room or trying to tickle someone or something. The band’s bassist, who goes by the moniker Dirty, was pretty off the hook as well. He leapt about, fell to his knees, climbed the speakers, and jumped about, with that semi-damaged US-flag kilt of his in danger of flying loose at any moment. At some point, all his boisterousness caused a bottle of water to fall off a gear case beside him and land on its side behind him. The cap was evidently a bit loose, because soon there was an enormous and growing puddle of water sneaking its way towards piles of electronic gizmos. After one song finished, Jordan spun about, saw the bottle, and rescued it, simultaneously commenting, “Oh bloody hell, someone wet themselves.”

After this, Jordan decided to get the room to slow it down just a little bit, and catch its collective breath. “If you’ve been making eyes with someone across the room, this is the time to go up to that person and say, ‘I wanna dance,’ and get real close, but leave room for the Holy Spirit.” He proceeded to beatbox his way into "Pull Out", which is by absolutely no means a slow song. Well, after the set finished, it certainly came to light that they went over extremely well. People clambered to the front of the stage as the band began to clear their gear off to give them high-fives or comment on the songs, and the congratulatory comments continued afterwards beside the stage as the guys loaded their gear outside. Awesome first impression for these guys, who were on the first date of their first major tour. I’ll say we should be seeing more of this band.

On we go. The KillRadio guys were spotted wandering about the room the rest of the evening, right in the middle of the crowd, checking out the other bands and accepting more praise from random audience members. They were right into it. On the stage, Head Automatica was setting up. Billed as a side project by Glassjaw singer Daryl Palumbo and techno whiz-kid Dan The Automator (not present), the band is slowly taking on a life of its own, which will probably happen much quicker once their debut album is released this summer. At the moment, the curiosity factor is a huge draw, and really getting the better of everyone. I lost count of how many Glassjaw tshirts were in the room. But my goodness, what a pretty crop of people there were onstage. Frilly satin shirts, black velvet jackets, pinstriped pants, dress shoes, pink earrings… Princessed to the max. So it was fun to hear such a noisy sort of electro-rock from them.

I had been familiar with this band through one song I heard on a sampler a couple of months ago, "Brooklyn Is Burning" (which they played second). Palumbo sauntered around the stage with one hand firmly planted on his hip, yelling at the other band member’s instruments, leaning over and screeching in the general direction of the floor, and just generally strutting and preening. There wasn’t an awful lot said between songs. They pretty much just played through the set in a stylishly-aloof manner, remaining entertaining and into their craft while still letting the audience know they were absolutely the shit. They mentioned the album coming out in the summer, but beyond that, just concentrated on being really saucy. And again, the crowd ate it up. This audience just loved music. It was like nothing could tear them down. Even though a lot of them were there for the Lost Prophets, they still leapt and cheered and posed questions post-set about the band. Great to see.

So on to our evening’s headliners. The set changeover was fairly lengthy, but at some point, I noticed that everything was in fact running ahead of schedule. Which pretty much never happens. But somehow the crew managed to stretch out the changeover in the end to bring us right back to slightly-late status. The eager crowd got themselves riled up on their own by starting up with half the bar chanting, “Olly olly olly,” and then having the other half of the bar reply with, “Oi oi oi!” Stir. Repeat. And again. Until the entire bar was seriously in on it. We then had some entertainment by way of the band’s happy stage tech, who tested the mics out just before the band hit the stage. Someone in the crowd screamed, “Yeah, soundguy!” He took a bow then began checking using humourous phrases and talkshow host voices.

Anyhow, the Lost Prophets guys came out and fucked things up. I mean that in the best possible way. They sound a bit like a louder, heavier Incubus, they have so much energy on the stage, and I have never ever seen Richards turn into what it did this night. The crowd went mental. I mean, just leaping and hurling themselves around, attempting to crowd surf, clamboring to the stage and diving off… it was rowdier than a lot of big outdoor punk festivals I’ve seen - and this was a 19+ show at a small club! Unreal. For my own sake (and my camera’s) I was happy to be standing where I was. It also afforded me a great view of the smashed front row of people, pumping their arms in the air and yelling along to the songs.

At one point, one member of that first row caught singer Ian Watkins’ attention and begged to be allowed to sing a song. Watkins smiled graciously at the fan and said “I can’t let you sing, what if you can’t sing? Maybe I’ll let you sing later, but if you’re crap, I’m going to be really upset.” All this was said with a laugh and a grin, and truly, there was a lot of love in the room. The guys went off bigtime, and they appreciated every speck of the crowd’s adoration. There was a slightly mellower moment where Watkins instructed the crowd to take a breath, wipe the tears from their eyes, and relax because they needed it, and had to be able to keep up their enormous energy for the rest of the show. They did that. Just a quick aside that I don’t know where else to put - these guys all visually tied together by the colour pink. I think they all had something pale-pink on them, whether shoes, a belt, or a kerchief tied around a wrist.

Then there was the jumping incident. Watkins told the room that if he didn’t see every last person jumping up and down to the following song, he’d stop and start the song again, and they could do that all night if they had to. So, the song begins, the crowd collectively begins leaping, but after a few seconds, Watkins shook his head, laughing, and dashed around the stage making his band stop playing their instruments. He then walked to the stage edge and said, “You all thought I was joking. You two, right there, you don’t think I have eyes? Come here…” He made two people squeeze through the crowd, hauled them onstage, and berated them gently for not jumping. So he made them jump on stage for the whole song. A couple other people then leapt on stage until the security finally decided that was no good, and they kicked off the newcomers. Hugs all around, the non-jumpers were now the band’s new best friends.

Crowd surfers continued to roll onto the stage, knocking monitors out of place, upsetting mic stands, and fucking up the band’s pedals. The band didn’t seem to mind so much. They were having a great time. But the crew was getting worked up at having to save the stage from destruction and remove boisterous punk rock people from the stage. Cardiff football chants continued, to the band’s delight, during a huge lull where the stage techs were attempting to replug and adjust all the pedals. And honestly, I have never seen so many pedals for each guitarist before. A three or four foot board packed with every pedal imaginable sat in front of each guitar player. I just about got kneed in the head a number of times as pedals were being stomped on in front of me.

Watkins also gave a sweet pat on the head to a curly-haired blonde fellow who had been by far the night’s most enthusiastic person. He was up front from the very beginning of the night, rocking to everything, and patiently awaiting the Lost Prophets. He looked so happy the whole time and kept trying to shake Watkins' hand, and finally, he gave him a pat on the head - it was kind of adorable. And finally, the sing-along guy got his wish, got yanked onto the stage and given a spare mic, and he screamed along with Watkins and the band. He looked really at home up there, like he really belonged. Except that he also was trying to get his buddy to take digital pictures of him on stage but had to show the guy how to work the camera.

Awesome show all told. I chanced to talk with the KillRadio guys after the show, and they say they hope to be back up in Canada in the fall, but they really don’t know yet. Good bunch of guys for sure. When I approached them, Jordan was perched on top of a stool behind the merch table, holding up one of their “King George” tshirts and ranting on about politics and music. He was like a carnival barker. The crowd had already thinned out a lot by that time, so I can't say how successful his tactics had been in attracting buyers, but he seemed quite adept at it. KillRadio made a distinct impression from this show. Opening bands, man, the ones with something to really, really prove. They always capture me the most. Go check ‘em out!

Elsewhere

By Andy Scheffler
Photos : Andy Scheffler
Published : June 8, 2004.