I enjoy attending shows filled with guys that don’t get out much. Collapsing under the weight of late modern ennui, student loans, vitamin D deficiency and unfulfilled dreams, they are teeming with repressed emotions waiting to be unlocked by one killer riff.
Unfortunately for The Twilight Sad, too few of these concert-goers ventured out early enough to catch the opening set of Monday night’s Scottish double bill at the Phoenix. The Twilight Sad’s pop-masking cloak of noise -- built on 16th notes of overdriven and reverb-drenched guitar and bass -- seemed light and thin as the night’s festivities began. The fullness of the sound was lost in the ether of the vapid spaces of a slowly filling theater. In a smaller venue, I could see their sound engulfing you then deviously sliding a cool shiv deep between your shoulder blades when you least expect it -- but not at the Phoenix.
Their set was good; just not mind-blowing. Vocalist James Graham was evocative,and presented his lyrics with earnest sincerity that from a weaker front man would have appeared melodramatic and contrived. His Scottish brood with forever-rolling Rs acted as a perfect accent to lyrical imagery of the loss, yearning, and confusion of adolescence.
For all the guitar bursts, rumbling bass lines, and vernacular vocals, the one element of The Twilight Sad’s set that stood out was the drumming of Mark Devine. His tom-heavy stoicism and subtle flourishes added progression and movement to songs that otherwise may be lost in repetition.
The band played 45 minutes of material from their two EPs and debut LP Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters. Standouts included “Cold Days From the Birdhouse,” which opened with two minutes of shimmering chime samples under Graham crooning “..and so you make it your own/ But this is where your arm can’t go”, “That Summer at Home I Became the Invisible Boy,” and closing track “I am Taking the Train Home,” which ended with a wave of noise passing by a statuesque Graham staring blankly into the crowd: transfixed, silent, and motionless.
The Twilight Sad’s set may not have been consciousness-shaking, but it showcased the draw of earnest and simple pop songs floating in a cloud of dissonance.
Having canceled the Toronto stop of their fall 2008 tour due to complications with drummer Martin Bulloch’s pacemaker, Mogwai reentered the city to an eagerly anticipatory crowd whose enthusiasm was as large as its numbers. Opening to the creeping piano melody of “I’m Jim Morrison, I’m Dead,” Mogwai laid the terrain for which the rest of the night’s set would be built. In traditional Mogwai fashion, the crowd was consistently lulled into dreamy dazes through tension-building light melodies, only to be trashingly awoken into a universe of chaotic and consecrated crescendos.
Mogwai played a diverse set of new and old songs spanning their decade-long career. Reaching into the back catalog for “Mogwai Fears Satan” and “Cody,” breaking the instrumental mold with vocoder-sung “Killing All the Flies” and “Auto Rock” and stopping out rocker “Glasgow Mega Snake,” the now full venue went ecstatic. Cathartic outbursts flooded the club as the unleashed emotions of no-longer-youthful crowd poured into the air in tandem with the fluttering tense melody and orgasms of sonic discharge streaming from the stage.
The transparency of Mogwai’s song structures became apparent as the show progressed. You could anticipate with near pin-point accuracy when the guitars would kick in and inevitably fade away. However, their slowly building explosions weren’t meant to be experienced as surprise, but rather as a jubilant release of the tension that their melodic sections create.
With guitar techs rushing to the stage as the band finished their set, an encore seemed inevitable; yet, the capacity crowd didn’t rest on their laurels. They demanded more, and as requested the Glaswegians post-rockers returned to the stage to a triumphant roar, bursting into the epic “My Father My King” to end the night.
As the venue cleared and the newly rejuvenated crowd returned to their mid-rise apartments in anticipation of tomorrow’s commute, I was reminded of the non-ironic love people hold for a good guitar rock song.
Mogwai setlist:
I’m Jim Morrison, I’m Dead
Killing All the Flies
Travel is Dangerous
Scotland's Shame
Small Children in the Background
Cody
You Don't Know Jesus
Auto Rock
Thank You Space Expert
Hunted by a Freak
Mogwai Fears Satan
Glasgow Mega Snake
--Encore--
My Father My King
