Sloan at the Grog Shop

[illusionofjoy]

If the question is, "do you want to go to concert?" my answer will usually be yes. The chances of this yes increase exponentially when asked if I want to go out of state for said concert and when told that I won't have to pay for the tickets. That last part - about not paying for tickets pretty much clenches the deal, irregardless of who the group is (unless they are someone truly terrible).

This was the proposition that joi_division's brother posed to myself and Joi. He wanted to go see Sloan for their performance at the Grog Shop in Cleveland yesterday evening, but he understandably didn't want to go alone. Even though I wasn't particularly familiar with Sloan, I agreed to go along. I'm not one to pass up an opportunity to go to a show and get out of Pittsburgh to boot. Of course, given the state of the music scene around here, one pretty much has to go elsewhere for a show.

Sloan is a four-piece pop-rock band based in Toronto, Ontario, to which they migrated from Halifax, Nova Scotia. The band consists of Jay Ferguson (guitar), Patrick Pentland (guitar), Chris Murphy (bass) and Andrew Scott (percussion). Up until yesterday, I had thought that I had never heard a song by this group, save for a quick listen of Joi's copy of their debut CD Smeared. Unbeknownst to me, the single "Money City Maniacs" (which is not on Smeared) was in high rotation on the Canadian radio stations I listened to in high school, meaning that I had heard the song many times yet, for some reason, never connected it to the band. I'd also misheard the lyrics to the chorus, "and the joke is when he woke his body was covered in Coke fizz," effectively covering the poor character from the chorus of the song in "goat jism." Sticky, but not nearly as funny.

After work yesterday, I went back to Joi's place, changed clothes and then picked her up from her job. From there, we got something to eat before heading to her brother's house. Joi's car was parked, and we piled into her brother's car and headed towards Cleveland.

The drive to Cleveland was fairly uneventful, as any good drive should be. The bad thing about Ohio is that they don't remind you or affirm which route you have driven onto in the form of repeated signage once you've chosen your exit. This led to a slight detour on the way back, but nothing that got us too deep into alien abduction country.

We arrived at The Grog Shop a little after 8:30, with plenty of time to catch the opening act, a local band calling themselves Series. The three of us had staked out territory directly in front of the stage, the better to take in Sloan. Unfortunately, in order to not lose our places, this also meant taking in Series.

"This is our last show before we all move away to our respective cities," their guitarist announced before they began their set. It is a good thing this band is breaking up; the only thing they have going for them is their rhythm section. The bassist and drummer were great, and most certainly out of place with the other three jokers in the group. If fate smiles upon them, those two may have a bright future as in-demand session musicians.

Overall, however, Series set of seven songs was painful. First and foremost were the songs themselves: whoever wrote them had all of the artistry of someone who writes driving manuals. Lines such as "submarine, you're suffocating" and "drug addict in the attic" are better placed in a Zippy The Pinhead comic strip, rather than a rock band whose songwriter can't even give us some good hooks to distract us from the bad lyrics.

So, the band is pretty much doomed from the get-go, as the songs - or the foundation of their set - aren't even adequate, right? Well, even bad songs can be made to sound good. I mean, Christina Agulara sings shitty pop ballads that are about as deep as a puddle, but she sings them on key and went some passion. The two singers in Series managed to hold these tunes about as well as a colander hold fluids. Their guitarist provided the tenor vocal insult to the ears, while a horribly skinny girl (whose only other function was to shake a tambourine) made flat soprano utterances.

So, the song writing sucked, the singing sucked and the girl in the band wasn't even cute - how could this get worse? Did I fail to mention that they had a keyboardist who left his instrument on the "organ" setting the whole time? Did I also fail to mention that he played what sounded like circus music the whole time? I did? Well, silly me. Now you know.

At one point their guitarist yelled out, "we're just all trying to get laid tonight."

"You're out of luck," I yelled back. This guy would later annoy me further during Sloan's set by wiggling his way into the crowd directly behind Joi and then jumping around with a cup of beer in hand. I should have punched him out right then and there for the double offense of subjecting me to bad music and then becoming fodder for "the concert curmudgeon."

As to Sloan's set, they were wonderful. Three of the four guys are multi-instrumentalists and all of them managed to remain tight despite issues with the monitors. Furthermore, they played with an energy and exuberance that didn't detract from the musicianship. Despite their singer's tired vocal chords, they still did an encore. I was impressed enough to buy a copy of their greatest hits disc, A-Sides Win.

I love live music and watching musicians play, which is why I like to get up front. What I don't like is having to deal with other people. The Concert Curmudgeon was subjected to several transgressions this time around.

During the opening act's set, some putz with no taste in music slipped in front of me to take photos and bop around in between shots. I gave him a nudge to the back, hoping he'd get the hint that he was infringing on my space. He didn't. Luckily, he ran off before I strangled him to death.

Meanwhile, when Sloan was on stage, another shutterbug - some poodle-haired twat with a dress on that only a grandmother should wear - kept trying to poke her way in-between Joi and me with the lens of her camera. Joi and I quickly linked arms, making a barrier that this bitch simply could not penetrate. Joi's brother was standing next to her and it was his other side that shutter-bitch quickly moved over to, being a nuisance as she snapped several photos of Sloan interrupted by Joi's brother's waving arm in front of the lens.

Those two, along with Series' lead vocalist were the major transgressors for the night. As to the lead vocalist, I gave him stink eye until he backed away. I really wanted to tip his beer onto his shirt, honestly. Overall, I managed to hold the assholes at bay, keeping people who had just got into the club from squeezing in front of me and holding strong against any pushing that came my way. A concert shouldn't be a battlefield, but it is and I always come prepared to destroy, if need be. Thankfully, it has never come to the point where I've actually had to call upon adrenaline to rip someone to shreds (though, don't think I wouldn't); the "death stare" usually does the trick.

Joi and I got back to her place around 4:00 in the morning, as the concert got out past midnight. From there, we both went to bed and immediately passed out until well into this afternoon. Today was used to recuperate from the trip and not much else.