Bad Canoes
live in Philadelphia (2015)
John Gentile
If you ask me, the Bad Canoes are now fully formed. The band has been playing house show after house show for past 18 months or so, growing with each performance. Where their set was once a mere twelve minutes, it’s grown to a full headlining set- albeit in the forum of the claustrophobic house show basement- and the expanded time has given them time to really expand on their tricks and generally weird vibe. On May 23, 2015, the band returned to their hometown Philadelphia at the internationally renowned Nacho House following a Winter/Spring hiatus, and let me tell you, all that pent up energy was unleashed.
Comprised of vocalist, a keyboard, bass, and drums (read: no guitar), the band makes their trade in vitriolic, warped, synth punk influenced by the early art-punkers, but entirely a thing of its own. During the set, frontwoman Misty, who was dressed in an old-lady onesie swimming suit (and I think covered in slime) wretched around the stage, screaming about eating dog treats. At another point, she switched intonations (we’re talking close to a Freddie M range here) and let her deep, blues voice take over as she sang about having sex with Moses. What’s most impressive about Misty is this warped character that she inhibits in this band. Whether she’s shrieking like a banshee or swimming in a cocktail longue croon, she sounds entirely genuinely and entirely baffling. Much like the warped minds of Tomatu Du Plenty, Darby Crash, and Ari Up, you get the idea that something higher level is going on, but frankly, you’re (read: me) just a little too dumb to get it and that’s what makes it so wonderful.
Another aspect of how out-there the band’s performance is, is how they interject themselves right into the audience. At one point, Misty pulled down a string of Christmas lights, sang to them like they were some holy spirit. At another, the lashed about on the floor like a flailing child, only to suddenly, affect a sort of dread clam. She goes from 0 to 60 back to 0 in the snap of a finger and that’s the sort of caginess that makes this band so thrilling and so dangerous.
Meanwhile, the band is at peak form. You have to give due credit to keyboardist Ivory, who, during the set, played around with discordant sounds. With a lot of punk and post-punk, the whole “Strictly nasty sound†angle can get tiresome, but Ivory seemed to have sort of a master’s ear. Just when the tunes got too jagged, she snapped to a more soothing, haunting strand of music. But then, just as one settled in, she ripped out the most vicious keyboard bashing she can. Meanwhile, bassist Krispy kept the bass low and rumbling. Really, it’s she who gave this band its low, powerful legs, so that when Misty suddenly sprang from the basement’s darkened corners, it was enough to level you. Drummer Muscles, the backbone of the band, played it fast and hard. While the other members of the band fly around with little deference given to standard song structure, Muscles hit those skins like a John Bonham or Dale Crover. The fact is, raw power trumps fancyfootwork every single time and Muscles knew this, opting to give these songs a sort of speeding tank cadence and texture.
During the set, the band announced that they have a new 7-inch coming out soon, following the previously released demo tape. At that point I wanted to jump in and stop the concert to demand more. This band is at a place at which so few bands ever arrive. They’ve mastered a varied, unique, weird-as-hell set. But, the songs are still fresh for the band, twisting into slightly new shapes with every performance. This spirit needs to be bottled and then melted into a full length. There’s a lot of great bands out there, but the more music you know, they fewer bands actually blow your mind. Bad Canoes blew my mind out of my skull and out into the street, where I had trouble collecting it later. This music needs to be given a platter to demonstrate all of its creepiness, nuances, and specialness before the fates in some form or another come and snatch it away. I won’t stand for anything less, even if I have to wrestle with the Morai myself as they try to force their way into Nacho house.
Random Notes
-Unwittingly, I stumbled into the house show before the concert actually started and while a BBQ was going on. Oh the embarrassment! Don’t worry. I busied myself by yelling Dancehall trivia at people that I didn’t know.
-Nacho House has a shrine of artifacts in the kitchen. Placed most highly in this collection of Holy Artifacts is, I kid you not, a Gold Record Plaque for Unkle Cracker’s No Stranger to Shame record.
-CELEBRITY FASHION WATCH: Hound’s Perry Shall was spotted wearing a pretty cool vintage Batman: The Movie t-shirt. Famed art collector Christina Centaur was sighted brandishing a trendy pair of bright colored, plastic glasses that flirted with the classic and art-nouveau. Screaming Females’ Jarrett (who just released the AMAZING Rose Mountain LP) recently cut down his shaggy hair into a chic “undercut variation†‘do. I went over to talk to him, but instead of saying anything, he just handed me a signed copy of GQ and then walked away.