The Automatik

Wayne Petti
The Grates
City Field
The Meligrove Band
w/DJ Finish Him

Lee’s Palace
June 22, 2006

I cannot heap enough praise upon The Meligrove Band. Not only have they proven their exceptional talent on all three of their albums, their shows are consistently impressive since, believe it or not, they sound even better in a live setting. They are tremendously supportive of the Toronto-area indie music scene, and frequently participate in all-ages shows with unknown bands. Although they are now signed to a major label, and are in the midst of a whirlwind of a tour around the world, no matter how many people show up to a Meligrove Band gig, they always have time for their fans. Plus, they’re just good people.

Therefore, any line-up that includes them is worth seeing, because you never know what can happen, and the surprises are always rewarding. Last night’s Lee’s Palace show was no exception.

Wayne Petti, of Cuff the Duke, played first. It was just Wayne and his guitar (and sometimes a harmonica) and I’m a real sucker for that kind of setup. He’s got a nice, soulful twang in his voice, one that is surprisingly rich for someone so young. Plus, I’m a sucker for crowd-singalongs and Bruce Springsteen covers, and his “I’m On Fire” fulfilled both. I’ve seen Cuff the Duke play before but suddenly, I’m a lot more interested.

Next up were The Grates, from Australia, and the only reason I mention that they are from Australia is because I cannot imagine a band like them coming from the U.S. or Canada (but perhaps I’m just jaded). To say that they blew me away would be and understatement. I have not been so utterly captivated by a band I’ve never heard before since I can’t even remember when. They’re not like anything I can put my finger on, although there are traces of things that seem familiar, but also welcome to these tired old ears (and eyes). Singer Patience Hodgson – yes, that is apparently her real name and how goddamn cute is that? – could seriously provide an unending power source for all of Ontario.

She jumps and flails about like a teenage girl dancing in her bedroom, completely uninhibited, with an undeniably joyous spirit that makes you feel glad to be alive. She told goofy jokes between songs, tried to engage audience members in banter, and was basically the mini-sun around which the whole audience revolved like a planetary system. This girl never stops having a blast, ensuring that I would be the same throughout their entire set, which subsequently induced a face-ache on my part.

Her voice is distinctive and impressive, reminding me a bit of Clare Grogan with more of the warble of Harriet Wheeler, but a register lower and less chirpy. And when I said before that she jumps and flails about, I mean that she does this constantly, all the while belting it out.

Drummer Alana Skyring is a loud drummer. Loud and hard and fast and a terrific backdrop to Patience’s physical and vocal antics. And John Patterson’s guitar is crunchy but sweet and has just the right coating of melancholy to make it all coalesce perfectly. Their style is like the lost performance from Urgh! A Music War but minus the post-punk angst and nihilism.

After The Grates, even the best of bands would have performance anxiety, but somehow I don’t think that explains the tremendously disappointing and lacklustre set by City Field. I’m a big fan of Matt Murphy’s other bands (Super Friendz, Flashing Lights) but I’m not one to wax nostalgic for the good old days, mostly because I wasn’t around for a good bit of them. Mr. Murphy has a wonderful voice, so I am puzzled why he would choose not to utilize it in this band except for a few harmonies.

City Field’s singer Mitchell Wiebe employed an annoying, yelpy 80s vocal style that made me think he was doing a poor Simon Le Bon impression, one woefully out of place with the music, which had flashes of Matt Murphy’s song writing style, but not enough to keep me entertained. In fact, Wiebe reminded me so much of the singer of fake New Wave Christian band “2001: A New Wave Godyssey” from Mr. Show that I thought perhaps his fashion and vocal choices were intended as some sort of joke. The band was just a mess. It pains me to be so critical of them but I can’t help it. I’d be lying if I said I liked them and I’m just not cut out for lying.

The one bright spot was when Ms. Patience Hodgson ambled over to where I was sitting and handed me one of The Grates’ 45s, imploring me to give it to Shaun, who was off getting something to drink. I told her that her band was phenomenal and she was all smiles and thumbs up. It’s a lovely little piece of vinyl, with hand-drawn patterns not totally unlike Hokusai’s Great Wave Off Kanegawa woodcut (art history nerd alert!). What a doll.

Here’s where I pimp the mad skillz of DJ Finish Him, aka Shaun, my lovely husband. Mike Small from the Meligrove Band offered Shaun the DJ gig for this show and he accepted the task and proceeded to succeed mightily. Playing a mix of video game music, new wave, glam, rock & roll, and other goodness between the bands’ sets, he truly did a fantastic job. (And we both wished our friend Adam McIntyre was there to witness the coolness factor of listening to stuff like Devo’s “Smart Patrol/Mr. DNA” because we know he woulda loved it.) I was absolutely floored when, during Sparks’ “Dick Around” two different people suddenly appeared next to us, demanding to know who this was because it was simply amazing. It made my whole night and restored a little bit of my faith in humanity or at least the younger generation.

Then it was time for those Meligrove boys, who wandered onstage right in the middle of Weird Al’s “Dare to Be Stupid.” Shaun couldn’t have timed it better if he tried. By this time it was a sweltering sauna in Lee’s (not sure what’s up with their failing A/C these days) so Andrew Scott’s green running shorts were a wise fashion choice. Despite a few technical difficulties, such as Jay’s temperamental keyboards and Mike’s super-fuzzed-out bass, they sounded wonderful as always, proving that even glitches can’t dim their power.

One such glitch was this insufferable boob who parked himself right behind the DJ table and proceeded to belch loud and unwelcome blathering throughout a majority of the Meligrove set. Looking like the most recent cast-off from the (imaginary) reality show So You Think You’re In An Emo Band, complete with dyed black hair, three-piece suit, and eyeliner, he tried to ruin everyone’s good time, by acting like that pain-in-the-ass boy from your junior high school who exists solely to criticize everything he sees, whether it warrants it or not. I’m not sure why he was there or why he continued to remain when he was so obviously miserable, but it was pissing me off mightily. I may share my disdain for a band’s performance with my friends at the show, but I don’t let my displeasure drown out the sound of the band and I certainly don’t yell insults at them while they are performing. We were all relieved when he disappeared as mysteriously as he had arrived.

Another thing about the Meligrove Band: they love and cherish their friends. The stage was filled throughout their set with a variety of pals from different bands such as The Bicycles, Henri and the Adorables, Spitfires & Mayflowers, and Born Ruffians, who helped out with tambourines, handclaps, background vocals, horns, dancing, and just plain fun.

Mike owned his bass guitar as usual, Jay sang and played his heart out, Darcy made his requisite dirty jokes and ruled the drumkit, and Andrew continued his multi-instrumental wizardry, eventually playing a game of Trumpet vs. Tambourine (and even though the tambourine was shattered, in his mind, it still won). By the encore, Darcy had taken up the challenge, staging his own battle of Darcy vs. Drumkit in which he emerged victorious. By this point Andrew was down to only the green shorts and climbed from the amp stack upon which he was playing to the top of the wall at the side of the stage, eventually crawling back and threatening to swing off the light fixtures on the ceiling. Thankfully he chose otherwise and did not meet a fiery death.

Then it was goodbye and goodnight as we all staggered home, sweaty but sated.

Good times, my friends, good damn times.

Photos of the show from Rock Paper Pixels will be forthcoming, so watch this space for updates.

For more information on The Grates, including MP3s, check out their MySpace page and Official Website.