(I got the idea for this series while sifting through the ‘piles’ of digital photos on my laptop. It occurred to me to share some of these great pics from some of my favourite concert sets from time to time. Until I get around to the next one, I invite you to peruse my ever-growing list of concerts page.)
Fleet Foxes at Ottawa Bluesfest 2023
Artist: Fleet Foxes When: July 14th, 2023 Where: River stage, Ottawa Bluesfest, Lebreton Flats Park, Ottawa Context: Well that’s it folks! Last night ended off another successful Ottawa Bluesfest – the local, annual marathon of live music. Out of a possible nine nights, I managed to attend seven and in that time, witnessed a great many sets. There were no disappointments and plenty of pleasant surprises. For me, it was hard to pick a favourite but wanting to do one post to signal my general satisfaction with another return to the festival, I’ve selected Friday’s night side-stage headlining set by Seattle’s indie folk heroes, Fleet Foxes. This selection has as much to do with the fact that this here was one of the few bands on the bill that I wanted to see and hadn’t yet seen before. I’d been following the group for a near fifteen years already and their set list did a great job representing all of their releases, including the recent collaboration they did with Big Red Machine (see below song). It wasn’t a very showy set, low on theatrics and pyrotechnics but huge on groove and ambience. I was so completely into the feels and lost in the tunes that very little else mattered but that moment. I later read that it seemed that the Foxes had drawn a larger crowd to the festival’s smallest stage than had the pop-singing headliner on the main stage but I didn’t even notice. It all felt so warm and intimate and well, great. Point of reference song: “Phoenix (with Big Red Machine)”
Robin Pecknold of Fleet FoxesChristian Wargo and Christopher Icasiano of Fleet FoxesCasey Wescott of Fleet FoxesSkyler Skjelset of Fleet FoxesChristian and RobinMorgan Henderson of Fleet FoxesRobin all acoustic and quiet like
“You build me up then you knock me down.
You play the fool while I play the clown.
We keep time to the beat of an old slave drum.“
Dead Can Dance is for all intents and purposes the duo of multi-instramentalists*, Lisa Gerrard and Brendan Perry. They formed the group with a third member, Simon Monroe (drums), when they were still a couple in Melbourne, Australia, back in 1981. They shortly afterwards relocated to London, enlisted new bandmates, and signed with 4AD. Their self-titled debut album was released and its dark and ambient sound fit right in on their new label. They then released a handful of albums throughout the 80s, using session musicians, rather than finding full-time bandmates. The release of their sixth album, “Into the labyrinth”, in 1993, though, saw the duo doing it all by themselves for the first time. It saw a marked change in their sound, adopting a strong influence of world music, and it also just happened to see the band’s most commercial success.
This is where I came in… though not immediately.
“The ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove” was my introduction to Dead Can Dance in 1995. I was living in university residence at the time and a fellow resident on my floor, a young man with whom I shared a first name, was blasting it one day, through speakers ridiculously too large for his tiny bedroom. I heard and was drawn to its unique sound from my room on the other side of the floor. When he satisfied my curious query about the sound’s provenance, I recognized the name as one I’d heard from friends and made a note that the music from them was not at all what I had assumed it would be. I went out and purchased a copy of “Into the labyrinth” shortly thereafter and not only fell for “Lovegrove” but also the whole album, it’s slow and plodding nature, the atmospherics not just in the use of traditional instruments but also in the fullness of sound of the very different of the vocals of the two principals.
Whenever I think of this song, though, it’s a different memory that pops up, that of an evening a couple years after this introduction, at the ‘Crawford mansion’. This was the nickname bestowed upon an apartment rented by a handful of my university residence floormates and good friends, the summer after that one year in residence. So named because it took up the top two floors of a house on Crawford street (a side street off College Street in Toronto’s Little Italy neighbourhood) and was large enough to (and often did) sleep a good handful of extra guests on top of its usual four residents. This became a downtown destination for parties and for crashing for many years because though all the four original renters didn’t all stay on after the first year of its lease, we always knew someone that lived there for almost half a decade. Before I get too off-track here, though, let’s return to the story at hand.
I was saying that I brought my girlfriend Victoria** down to the Crawford mansion (for the first and only time ever) and though there wasn’t a party planned that night, it inevitably turned into a soirée. Vegetarian canapés and finger foods were put in the oven (in honour of Victoria’s visit), other guests appeared from the ether, and yes, there was music. It was loud in volume but bearably so and the selections mellow but full in sound. I can’t remember every song that made the playlist but I can say for sure James’s “Out to get you: and Dead Can Dance’s “The ubiquitous Mr. Lovegrove” were played***. I will never forget Josh’s friend Bryce pounding on a a set bongos along to the heavy rhythm, while the ragas, strange and unique wind sound, and Brendan Perry’s deep, booming, and (dare I say) ubiquitous voice and echoed and shook the walls of the apartment. It was one of those moments that you just look around yourself, the smiling faces around the room, and a general mood takes hold and everything feels like it’s going to be alright.
*And I mean MULTI-instramentalists.
**Who as many of you know by now is now my wife.
***Both of these are among some of Victoria’s favourite songs, though she may not admit that it was because of that night.
For the rest of the Best tunes of 1993 list, click here.
(Vinyl Love is a series of posts that quite simply lists, describes, and displays the pieces in my growing vinyl collection. You can bet that each record was given a spin during the drafting of each corresponding post.)
Artist: Amos the Transparent Album Title: Goodnight my dear… I’m falling apart Year released: 2012 Details: Gatefold sleeve, white vinyl
The skinny: I’m already a couple days and a handful of great live performances into this year’s edition of Ottawa Bluesfest – the local music festival that blasts through pretty much every genre of music over the course of a week and half. I’ve been attending this thing on the regular for just over a decade now and one of the great things about it that hasn’t changed much is the organizers’ promotion of local talent. One such band that I discovered at one of the first few times I attended is Amos the Transparent, an indie rock collective led by Jonathan Chandler. I’ve since seen the group a number of times* and bought all of their albums, my favourite of which was their sophomore LP, 2012’s “Goodnight my dear… I’m falling apart.” For those of you too far afield to have heard this album, it is an excellent, big, Canadian indie rock record in the vein of “Funeral” or “Set yourself on fire”, but in addition to the orchestral elements those two albums sport, Amos throws in some traditional folk instrumentation for fun. I picked this original pressing in white vinyl up from the band’s merch table the last time I saw them perform live, back in 2018 at the Ottawa Dragonboat festival, and it’s one I slip on to the turntable with regularity.
Standout track: “Sure as the weather”
*And I will see them one more time this coming Thursday at Bluesfest.
My (life in) music lists 