The Men at Work

All photo credits: steve louie

Sept. 5, 2012
The Waldorf Hotel
Vancouver, British Columbia

I admit I don't know much about Vancouver quartet Sex Church. I don't know their history. I don't know the names of their releases. I don't even know what to call the music they play. After the first time I saw them (the only time I saw them), I always referred to them as shoegaze. And although I didn't hate them, they didn't impress me either. I never thought that a little over a year later, Sex Church would steal the show even as the first of three bands on the bill, especially a bill shared by the likes of White Lung and the Men. Maybe "stealing the show" is a bit of an overstatement, but Sex Church were unquestionably the surprise of the night, delivering scorching 80s/90s alt-rock à la Dinosaur Jr. and blustering indie rock à la Dinosaur Jr. offshoot Sebadoh, all with a spaced out twist.

I hesitate ever so slightly to say Sex Church stole the show because White Lung was also fucking fantastic - worlds better than the last time I saw them; a superior sound system goes a long way, particularly in amplifying Mish Way's voice into a building-razing roar from the deepest recess of Hell. I decided that night, unable to take my eyes off of Kenneth William as I soaked in the fury with which he unleashed his coarse, chunky guitar lines, that he is one of my favourite guitarists to watch. The fact that he is White Lung's sole guitarist and carries the band's blazing fast rhythms while shooting out white-hot solos, with impeccable precision, no less, is simply amazing. Also pretty cool was seeing Nü Sensae drum-machine Daniel Pitout rocking out in the front row, cheering on his Van-punk besties.

"That's really original. I like it," Mish Way complimented with dry sarcasm before tossing the sign into the crowd.

 
Unfortunately, any interest I had in the show left in tandem with White Lung. As an indie "it" band that is really just starting to break out now despite having just released their third full-length, this past spring's Open Your Heart on Brooklyn imprint Sacred Bones Records, I'd expected quite a bit more from New York's genre-blurring Men. I had looked forward to frantic, noisy, (possibly post-)punky mayhem delivered with manic desperation amidst searing, driving drone that billowed and loomed like smog in a house-fire, but what I received instead more closely resembled psych-tinged hard rock, more streamlined and high in positive rather than depressive, stifling energy. As well, loud as the Men were, two of the band's vocal mics were almost inaudible, even after one of the Waldorf's sound-people in the audience instructed the house-crew to turn up the mics. With only two songs I really enjoyed, the names of which I don't even know, I was unfortunately relieved when the Men finished their set.

One may assume I would never see the Men again. While I thought as much up until this very sentence's writing, I've since reconsidered: Perhaps the unpredictable(-to-me) nature of the Men's show is simply characteristic of the band's uncategorizeable temperament (they've also delved into sunny 60s/70s open road pop on their latest album). If such is the case, perhaps the Men still have enough allure to keep me returning to their shows, despite this unfavourable first live impression.

Click here to view a very few more photos of White Lung and the Men at the Waldorf.