Most times when I write up a review of a concert, I do my best to spin it to the positive – It’s not often I can’t find anything redeeming about a show that I’ve paid good money to attend, I like to think I’m more discriminating than that. Well you can’t win them all.

From the top – we didn’t arrive in time to see Broke Revue, so the evening started with second-billed ex-Montrealers The Stills. Part of the second- or third-wave of hip, shaggy haired bands in the New York scene right now, The Stills prove there’s really not much depth in that particular musical pool. Their half-hour set was generic, derivative and pretty fucking dull. I laid blame for this on a couple key points – the absence of any interesting vocal melodies whatsoever and quite possibly the most boring drummer I’ve ever had the opportunity to see live. His time was solid (except when he tried a fill) and his drumming patterns had the 80s drum machine beside me complaining, “what the fuck is he doing? I can drum better than that!” Yeah. There were a couple songs where it sounded like they might actually do something interesting, but too little too late.

It was up to Interpol to salvage the night but unfortunately, they weren’t up to the task. At this point I’d like to refer back to my review of their show a year ago at the Horseshoe, particularly when I said “Interpol will be back next year sometime, but the snob in me already knows that show won’t be as good as this one was”. Turns out I was bang on, but it wasn’t the snob in me so much as the precognative.

Granted, the Kool Haus is an unforgiving venue for sonics, but I have heard it sound good so I know it’s possible. Last night was not one of the good sounding ones – the vocals were distorted and by the encore, the speakers were beginning to crap out. It wouldn’t be fair, however, to blame the venue entirely for what was coming out of the speakers. Things started out promisingly enough, with the band making full use of their Spritualized-sized new lightshow by back-spotlighting Daniel Kessler in pitch blackness as he played the opening chords to “Untitled”, but that was pretty much the high point of the night. The lighting effects were overused such that all you could see were five vague silhouettes for most of the show. It’s called ‘restraint’, fellas, look it up.

The set list was nearly identical to that of a year ago with three new songs thrown in, but execution was way off from the last show. While the rhythm section was still pretty tight, the guitars were exceedingly sloppy – something that a band built around tightly wound arrangements simply can’t afford. Paul Banks’ vocals were thin and pinched, lacking any weight. The biggest complaint, however, was the lacklustre delivery. Whereas a year ago the band projected great energy, this time they seemed indifferent and disinterested. I understand you’re a little burnt out after a solid year of touring, but if you’re not up to it, don’t fucking do it. It’s more insulting to show up and phone it in than to not show up at all.

So to sum up – I can’t say the show was BAD, per se, but it was pretty boring (I’m not the only one to think so, either, I have testimonials from a number of other independent sources) and not a patch on their show last year.

np – Fountains Of Wayne / Welcome Interstate Managers

Kid Koala is opening for Radiohead in Toronto. All due respect to Mr Marsupial, but part of my rationale for spending the (exorbitant) ticket price was seeing Stephen Malkmus at a decent venue. Now I get a DJ in the Skydome, to say nothing of paying an extra $15 to send my tickets back to WASTE to be exchanged. It’s just as well I decided this would be my last Radiohead show ever anyway, because I’m feeling mighty screwed right now.

Speaking of shows, Interpol is tonight, so I can look forward to an evening in the company of 2000 disaffected hipsters in their dad’s suits and the screaming girls who they hope to impress by dressing so. “No, you’re not going to get with Carlos D but I sort of look like him if you squint really hard, so you may as well take the consolation prize”. I think I should go in a pair of blue jeans, Budweiser t-shirt and backwards baseball cap, and yell, “WHOO! Interpol!” before, after and during every song. And try to high-five anyone in my vicinity. Or maybe I should yell, “Play NYC!” after every song, whoop loudly when they do and leave immediately afterwards. T-shirt graphic from Claytron’s House Of Style.

And tomorrow night is Fountains Of Wayne. The show is sponsored by Mix 99.9 (MOR top 40 radio station for non-Torontonians) and has a 10pm start time, no doubt for the benefit of all the working stiffs who have to get up early the next day for work, quite probably to the sounds of Mix 99.9’s morning show. The band should play “Stacy’s Mom” first, just so we can watch the crowd get up and leave right afterwards.

Cynical? Me? Nah.

np – My Morning Jacket / At Dawn

Everyone – and I mean EVERYONE – I know has been sending me links to this Onion story. Hey guys… what are you getting at? Are you implying that I would somehow relate to the Morlocks of society that this article writes about? That I look at that picture of the fat man in a Beat Happening t-shirt and feel I’m looking in a mirror? That these are my people? Is that what you’re saying? I DO NOT SPEND MY FRIDAY NIGHTS CATALOGUING MY CDS IN A SPREADSHEET. The spreadsheet is already made, it’s just a question of maintenance. It only takes a few minutes at a time. Please. My Friday nights are set aside for Snood.

Words fail. From Donewaiting.

My friend Patrick has joined the ranks of the blog-enabled. He’s still working out some layout/interface issues, particularly if you’re using anything but Windows IE, but the content is gold. He’s the dude who introduced me to much of the music that now forms the bread and butter of my diet, and for that I am eternally grateful. And he sold me his university textbooks for cheap, gave me his old finals and advised me on which fourth year courses required the absolute least work to get through. My mentor.

Oh yeah, somehow I missed the fact that the working title for the new Batman film is Batman: Intimidation Game. Seems a little unwieldy, I think.

np – American Analog Set / Promise Of Love

To everyone currently pursuing a degree in science… be warned. The worst jobs in science, courtesy of Popular Science. It starts with “FLATUS ODOR JUDGE” and goes downhill from there.

Pity Mick Jagger – apparently it’s tough being a sex god. Unpleasant mental images courtesy of TMFTML.

Some uber-keener has already started annotations for Neil Gaiman’s 1602. Gaiman’s work is always rich with subtle and obscure references, so this would be a good companion piece when the series is wrapped up. There’s also a good history of Miracleman linked off that site.

np – The Super Friendz / Mock Up Scale Down

It looks like Hurricane Isabel is coming right up our asses this weekend. I suppose a hurricane is the perfect way for Toronto to wrap up this glorious summer. SARS, West Nile, blackout, hurricane… Granted, there probably won’t be much left of the storm by the time it gets through customs, but it’s the principle of the matter. Wanna see what it looks like now? Check it out. Daaaaamn.

A hero for our times – Angle Grinder Man! He even has his own website.

Time has run an obituary for Johnny Cash. Heartbreaking. I hate the timing, but I think I do need some more Johnny Cash in my collection. The double-disc Essential set from last year should do, as well as the recent American Recordings albums and maybe some of the classic live albums. They ran that Larry King Live interview again last night – it was from November of last year, and not a couple weeks ago as I had thought, but as I mentioned before, Cash was so clear and vibrant, despite his infirmities, that it made me even sadder that he’s gone now. I take some comfort in the fact that no one’s dredged up the ads he did as spokesperson for Canada Trust’s “Johnny Cash” ATMs back in the 80s. Those were just weird.

Nothing helps one get over a cold better than discovering in the middle of a rain shower that your umbrella is broken. Fantastic!

np – The Jayhawks / Rainy Day Music