(Feb. 10, Drake Underground) The next 12 months could prove to be the year of Spiral Beach, but these teenage phenoms already had a helluva '06. This all-ages gig at the Drake was one of many convert-making concerts, as the Spirals simply aced an endorphin-flooding set that displayed equal measures of beyond-their-years songwriting chops and in-joke rec room goofiness.
Too much hype can be a dangerous thing for an up-and-coming group, making detractors out of people who haven't yet heard a note, but anything less than shouting praise for these wunderkinds from downtown rooftops wouldn't do them justice. RYAN WATSON (April 15, Horseshoe Tavern) When Spank Rock brought his Baltimore-by-way-of-Philadelphia raunch-fest to town back in April, those of us who threw down wondered if it really happened. Did screw-faced Torontonians actually appear to completely lose their cotton-pickin' minds at a show?
Yes, and the internet has proof. After a high-energy opening set by Cadence Weapon, Naeem Juwan and his Armani XXXchange DJ crew hit the stage and proceeded with a shock-and-awe campaign of filthy chants that stuck in heads for weeks afterwards. If it weren't for the shaky footage of Horseshoe patrons blowing up to "Put Your Pussy On Me" that surfaced on YouTube, you'd swear it was all a (wet) dream.
DAVE MORRIS (May 18, Gladstone Hotel) Apparently this show was some kind of artists' soiree (dubbed the Fool's Luck Party), with cutesy wares being sold from carefully arrayed booths. But when the Sabbath-y, Ramones-infused Five Hot Bitches (actually a bass/drums/vocals female trio) hit the stage, you could almost taste the fear among the crowd of comic-book nerds and knitting enthusiasts. Caveman rhythms and monstrously distorted low-end marked "Cock Fight," while smutty ditties like "Hot Bitch Sundae" and "Addiction To Friction" boasted near-brown note decibel levels.
After a pummelling 30 minutes, a super-brief take on Black Flag's "Wasted" was offered before disoriented audience members were left to reflect on where their lives had gone so terribly wrong. CHRIS ROLFE (June 21, Lee's Palace) Watching a formally attired Angus Andrew prowl across the Lee's stage, you could've sworn you were watching another imposingly tall Australian with a penchant for good suits and grim storytelling: Nick Cave. The classy couture lent a subversively stately visage to Liars' feral, percussive builds, but it soon collapsed into chaos - by mid-set, Andrew had torn off the suit to reveal a women's gown that made him look like a homeless Gibby Haynes.
But Andrew did stop his maniacal mantras long enough to relate a lengthy anecdote about getting probed by Canada Customs that, just when it was about to hit the punchline, exploded into a terrifying version of "Drum and the Uncomfortable Can" that was all rubber glove, no lube. STUART BERMAN (June 29, Phoenix Concert Theatre) If the Toronto Downtown Jazz Festival was aiming to draw a more youthful demographic by presenting Brooklyn soul shouter Sharon Jones and her kick-ass backing band the Dap Kings, they certainly succeeded. And if there ever was an antidote to arms-crossed indie earnestness, this show was it.
Jones led the way in full-throated, hip-shaking glory, inspiring all and sundry to get their groove on to the Dap Kings' blast of brass. She strutted. She wailed.
She owned the stage. And best of all, she inspired some serious audience participation, inviting some young men up on stage to dance along. Who knew T.
O. cool kids could move like that? TABASSUM SIDDIQUI (July 4, Molson Ampitheatre) Racists, rowdies and hair mills.
An underappreciated Mastodon opened with Remission's "Crusher Destroyer," that weird machines-awakening sound filling the stands like a cosmic bowel movement. Lamb of God's Randy Blythe termed Mastodon's jams as "complex musical stylings." Correct.
Slayer played it to the hilt, opening with the classic "South of Heaven," and eventually moving into an amusing onstage cross formation. As per usual, "Mandatory Suicide" was dedicated to the troops. They busted out "Cult" from their new disc, Christ Illusion, with Tom Araya waxing satirical about the tour's name.
Security was too scared to contain audience outbursts - which was funny. PAUL CARLUCCI (July 15, Harbourfront Centre Concert Stage) Watching sixtysomething Jamaican soul men sing "I Believe In Music" while dancing and singing into one shared microphone is enough to warm even the chilliest heart. Witnessing an entire roster of unheralded Jamaican legends wow an over-capacity crowd of multicultural and multi-generational Torontonians on a swoony summer's night by the water - well, it made this grown man weep with joy.
Lloyd Delpratt's ace house band backed up consummate showmen like the dynamo Jay Douglas and the 500-per-cent man known as The Mighty Pope. Their collectively electrifying vitality made this much more than a museum piece. MICHAEL BARCLAY (July 31, Lee's Palace) Craig Finn's wise-ass bar band made a Monday-night rock show feel like the best high-school house party you ever went to.
Except this time you skipped the Southern Comfort shots and stuck with beer. Nor did you find your girlfriend necking with that college dude. Nope, this time it was a permanent good one, The Hold Steady's tales of misspent Minnesotan youth sounding as heroic as the E Street Band and as ragged as the Replacements.
A few more months before third album Boys and Girls in America would officially make them the bee's knees, the band was proud, loud and loaded for bear. Finn's glasses kept falling off because it was hotter than a "French whorehouse" in here yet dapper keyboardist Franz Nicolai refused to remove his cap, blazer or moustache. In between songs, Finn delivered punchy stand-up routines about mallrats and the martyrdom of Saint Barbara.
Everybody was smiling. Nobody wanted to leave, even after three encores. But we knew we'd have to or else we would've started hugging strangers and slurring, "I love you, man!
" just like back in the day. JASON ANDERSON (Sept. 17, Kool Haus) First you had to pay a solid-gold, diamond-encrusted arm and leg for a ticket.
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