How To Disappear Completely

Like Dylan in the Movies, They've Shown This on Both Screens

Last night, after returning from my international trek to visit sisters over my Reading Week break, I got back into my car and drove to Toronto to see and hear Belle and Sebastian play with The New Pornographers. The venue, a nightclub entitled descriptively The Docks (yes, it was by the water, Vincent), was packed to capacity. A couple that had driven up from Ohio complained about the Canadian lack of mosh pits. It probably has to do with the Canadian tendency to apologize if you step on their toes. Free-for-all bumping into other people doesn't fly too well up here in the frigid North. Oh, well. The younger, Vancouver-based band opened for the Scottish indie-rockers (heaven forbid they ever be labeled Twee pop!) with all the enthusiasm and stage-struck awe of the new kids on the block. Opening immediately with "Jackie, Dressed in Cobras," A.C. Newman kept the banter with the audience to a minimum; he stopped only to mention several times how glad the band was to be touring with B & S. "It didn't really hit me until they started playing around with 'Stars of Track and Field,' and then I realized: Holy Sh**! We're playing with Belle and F***ing Sebastian!" The balance for the first few numbers was weighted heavily towards Kurt Dahle, who drowned out the vocals until he pulled back his enthusiastic drumming. One of the band members played an intriguing instrument that I couldn't quite place, noting only that it looked like something Erik Kucks* would own, a keyboard attached to a tube that one blew through. The mystery was solved, however, when Newman took the instrument into his hands and remarked, "Time for the ceremonial passing of the melodeon," before breaking into the mysterious, somber intro to "The Bones of an Idol." Neko Case's rich voice makes that song one of my personal favorites. All the pictures I have seen of her on the internet show her with long hair, but tonight she had a pixie cut, giving her a boyish but elegant Audrey Hepburn-esque beauty. The band primarily played tunes from their newest album Twin Cinema: "Use It," "Twin Cinema," "Bleeding Heart Show," "Three or Four," "High Art, Local News," "Streets of Fire," mixing up the fast and loud judiciously with the soft and slow. The band finished solidly with "Sing Me Spanish Techno," a song that always amuses me because it doesn't really sound either Spanish or Techno, but there are days when I can certainly relate to the lyrics: "Listening too long to one song."

Having been happily primed, I was ready for Belle and Sebastian. Or so I thought. But when Stuart Murdoch, dressed in a black-and-white horizontally striped shirt, black cordoroys with a chain in the back pocket, and a black derby perched atop his head, entered with Stevie Jackson (contrastingly dressed in a power suit like he was ready for a business luncheon) and joked with the audience in his Scottish brogue, I stood a little straighter. The band started off with "Stars of Track and Field," which to me is classic Belle and Sebastian: intimate, acoustic introduction that builds in intensity as the song progresses, crooning voice, lilting melody, long instrumental riffs featuring the trumpet usually, or the violin. The intimate quality was still there, but on the live stage, the whole song was larger and more intense. The stage was illuminated by coloured lights that coordinated with the harmonic or instrumental textural changes in the music. Reminded me of something Alexander Scriabin would have tried, if he had given up the quest for the mystic chords of nature and taken to composing indie-pop instead. And Stuart Murdoch was breaking it down on stage in ways that would have made Catacombs** or Five Points** proud. However, the ensuing numbers showed me what a side-liner, on-the-fence, noncomittal, pick-and-choose my favorite tracks from If You're Feeling Sinister, Dear Catastrophe Waitress, and Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like a Peasant and discard the rest kind of fan I really was (I hadn't even listened to their newly released The Life Pursuit). I had never been so utterly blown away by Belle and Sebastian before: the immediacy of the band, the charisma of Murdoch, the effectiveness of the aural and visual colour coordination, the power of the drumming, the constantly changing instrumental texture succeeded in accomplishing what the albums alone had failed to do; by the end of the night, I was a full-blown B & S fan. After a few numbers, Murdoch took to the keyboard, holding up sheet music with the cover of Fold Your Hands Child printed on the outside. "This is for decoration," he assured us, "not because I don't know the words or anything." Whether he used his cheat sheet or not, "The Chalet Lines" proceeded beautifully. Jumping through their steadily accumulating discography, the band performed selections from all their major albums: "I'm a Cuckoo," "If She Wants Me," "Sukie in the Graveyard," "Dylan in the Movies," "The Boy With the Arab Strap," and "Wrong Girl." The electronic funk in "Song for Sunshine" made me wish the venue hadn't been so crowded; I wanted to grove. Though Murdoch sang most of the evening's songs, some of the females in the audiences expressed the desire "Let Stevie sing!" and so Stevie sang. I am currently experiencing a severe memory lapse regarding what Stevie sang. I think it was "Seymour Stein," but I could be mistaken. I do remember that Stevie dedicated the song to Sheila, who was in the audience somewhere. I also remember that Stevie stopped after a couple of bars into the song, turned to Murdoch on the bass, and asked, "Are you on?" The two got into a "heated discussion" regarding the volume of Murdoch's instrument. "Are you criticizing my bass playing?" Stuart asked. "No, I love your bass playing. That's why I want to hear it. Besides these people payed good money to hear the song, and so they want to hear it done right." Afterwards, in order to prove his exceptional bass playing skills, Murdoch tried to start "Judy and the Dream of Horses" on the bass. Fortunately for us, he gave up after a few bars, and reached for the acoustic instrument behind him. They ended with that number, but the crowd screamed so loudly for more, that the band returned to the stage for a double encore. The audience shouted out suggestions while the band reset their instruments, but Stevie's little rendition of "Oh Susanna" on the harmonica ought to have warned everyone that "Me and the Major" (a song with some serious harmonica riffs) was in the works. The band closed for good with the appropriate "Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying."

I left The Docks to discover my car under two inches of snow. I drove the hour back home with a freezing windshield and didn't crawl into bed until 2am, but the night was well worth it. I can die happy now.

*Covenant student who plays various types of accordians.
**Guys' halls at Covenant which are known for enthusiastic and creative dancing.