A few weeks ago some friends and I went to Lee’s Palace, that venue of venues, the celebrated concert hallows of Toronto, for a show. Now, I’m going to be brutally honest. I don’t actually go to that many shows. I don’t go to that many shows because, while I would describe my taste as far-reaching and eclectic, I live under a relative musical rock. I went through a big Indie rock phase between the ages of 17 and 19- mostly ascribable to tv or movie soundtracks. Nowadays, I’m even worse and rely on off-hand friend recommendations to broaden my (narrow) musical horizons. So when my roommate Jane (who’s much more in on these things than I am and a regular concert goer) suggested Rich Aucoin I shrugged my shoulders and said why not.
I hadn’t been to Lee’s for about a year and a half, since another show of another band I didn’t know that a friend recommended. Now, Lee’s Palace, really a somewhat dark, gritty hole in the wall of the Annex is a two story building that is actually has Dance Cave, a separate club, on the second floor. Since it is one building, both clubs employ the same bouncers out front. Now, in my misguided youth, I had missed out on the right of passage written somewhere in the UofT constitution that says one must, at least once in their university career, go to Dance Cave and throw up somewhere on the premises (the same law also decrees that one must go to the Brunny {Brunswick Club to you}, down the street, and be groped by a fratboy and/or dance on a table). I’m not proud of this- she says with a grin- but I have not once, not twice, but THREE times been refused entrance to Dance Cave on the grounds of either being too drunk myself or attempting to enter with someone else whose sucked too much off the bottle (Allie- the ill-fated 21st birthday night of July 2011). See, it doesn’t matter how drunk you get once inside Dance Cave, just as long as they don’t have to take responsibility for letting your overly-drunk ass in. In fact, he only occasion I have been let into Dance Cave by the bouncer was for the Coach House book launch last year (no drinking or dancing was involved).
Upon entry to Lee’s Palace for Rich Aucoin, Mr. Dreadlocked Bouncer takes a look at my ticket, then a second look at me, and asks:
“Have I seen you before?”
Now, you gotta be amazed at this Rastafarian’s memory. Last time he didn’t let me in for public drunkenness was over a year and a half ago. I muttered something to the effect of “I go to shows”, but clearly he wasn’t too bothered and let me pass.
Now, I’m going to skip over the idiotic fight with my boyfriend about who’s fault it was for being late/not calling/getting upset for no reason. Suffice to say it was awkward over the Hot Pot at the Korean place (Koreatown being starting about a block away from Lee’s past Bathurst on Bloor. If you have not checked out the multitude of restaurants/karaoke bars/walnut cakes, I highly suggest you do so).
world’s most amazing baked good
Inside was the usual pre-gig shuffle from the bar, to the floor, back to the bar while the opening act (a ginger boy wearing a dress) went nuts to not very memorable music. Lee’s is set up so that the raised platform where the bar is gives way to a fenced off pit in front of the stage. Jane recommended we stake our pit claim now, right underneath the enormous bag attached to the ceiling which was full of balloons and clearly meant to be opened during the preformance. Closer to the main act, the pit began to fill, and fairly soon there was no room to manoeuvre or stick a hand out to grab the glow sticks being thrown to the audience.
As stated earlier, I had no prior knowledge of Rich Aucoin or his music, and went into this show blind. I ran across a National Post article that summarizes his act pretty well:
“Here’s the thing about Aucoin: His music is … not great. With electro-tinged, buzzy alterna-pop that doesn’t distinguish itself from every other band out there with a drum machine and an ironic baseball cap, Aucion’s tunes are just this side of mediocre: They’re good but not great, listenable but not memorable. And maybe he knows this, because his bombastic live show takes every critical epithet you could fling at the content of his recordings and turns them right on their head.
Confetti? Check. Balloons? Check. Projector reel of old cartoons and YouTube clips (yes, of cats)? Check. It might sound gimmicky, but Aucoin is that rare performer who is acutely aware that he is playing to an audience, and it’s in his best interest that his audience remains completely on-board with his performance.” (http://arts.nationalpost.com/2012/09/21/concert-review-rich-aucoin-brings-a-spectacle-to-toronto/).
Tucker makes a good point: with Aucoin, it’s not really about the music. His shtick is built on a performance platform, and is all about bringing the audience directly into the show. The upbeat messages he has you chant out in every song, which are projected onto the screen behind him to the tune of a collection of bizarre images and video bites, puts every show-goer into an active role, which inevitably enhances the experience. I’d never really been to a show that involved so much audience participation (outside of moshing, which was present in spades at Aucoin whether you wanted to mosh or not). When people are doing as opposed to watching, the emphasis is no longer on the single performer, but on the collective energy of the crowd, which feeds off of itself. Even in the middle of a couple’s tiff, my boyfriend and I were able to suspend the pointless negativity for a few hours to get high off of life (which is really the overarching theme of Aucoin’s set).
We are UNDEAD! (look! See me there in the back with the glowstick???)
[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m8mn3RxcuI8]