Snakecharming the Masses: The Stills Live at the Pyramid

I wasn’t intending to attend The Stills’ show at the Pyramid this past Saturday because they were the latest casualty of my concert budget. Up until very recently, I was living on $200 a month and my parents’ love, so I knew I couldn’t see every band that came through. And despite having bought The Stills’ debut album several years back, they had been one of those bands I lost track of and perhaps the majority of their songs weren’t grabbing my attention in the way other bands’ were. At any rate, I did go and see The Stills at the Pyramid courtesy of winning a contest via Winnipeg music blog Painting Over Silence and the people at Arts & Crafts. I’m very glad I did, and I’ll tell you for why – I appreciate The Stills much better live than I do when I listen to them on CD. They are an incredibly dynamic, passionate force onstage, giving their songs fuller body and energy than I’ve found on the records themselves. And watching the effect they were having on their hardcore fans was fantastic – a tight knot of people were dancing, pumping their fists and hugging each other as the music took them over. They were truly under the spell of the band, which is always wonderful at a live show. And this is after the show began an hour later than scheduled.

Backlit by vertical, eye-searing orange lights that complemented their drumkit emblazoned with the Oceans Will Rise cover art, The Stills launched into their set with the ratatat percussion of Snakecharming The Masses (Dave Hamelin on an extra snare drum stage right) as they turned what could be a repetitive song into a mesmerizing performance. They then did one of my favourite songs from Logic Will Break Your Heart, Lola Stars and Stripes, before returning to the tracks off their latest release, including Snow in California, Panic, Dinosaurs, Eastern Europe, Hands on Fire, I’m With You, and Everything I Build (which was dedicated to their opening band Gentleman Reg and sung with a weary tenderness). While I appreciated the fist-pumping anthems and harder rocking of many of the songs, I really loved the wall of sound created on songs like Snow in California and Hands on Fire; the melodic dexterity and gentle, building beauty of both songs were highly memorable for me. Interspersed through the set, there were also a few songs from Without Feathers, including In the Beginning, Helicopters and She’s Walking Out, which seemed to get a post-punk makeover when live in contrast to their more Americana-based original album incarnations. They ended the set proper with the anthemic one-two punch of their recent singles Being Here and Don’t Talk Down, and interestingly, returned to their debut album for the encore that featured Of Montreal and Still in Love Song.

Overall, the band is brilliantly co-helmed by Tim Fletcher and Dave Hamelin, who switch off on lead vocals (Hamelin’s softer croon and Fletcher’s impassioned howl) in the seamless fashion that all three guitars in the band interplay to create a sense of sonic warmth like a brightly glowing, smouldering ember in the post-punk darkness. At one point in the encore, all three guitars were aimed at the audience in true aural assault; in fact, I’m sure several of the people at the edge of the stage got to look down the barrel of a fretboard multiple times during the performance. There were also several rather breathtaking stop-on-a-dime kind of endings to songs that required an impressive precision. It was the last night of their current tour, and while the venue was relatively small, the masses that were there were duly impressed, some with their arms swaying and darting in the air as though from the depths of a snake basket.

I also have to mention how much I loved Gentleman Reg, the opening band from Toronto. In their case, it was love at first listen. As I’ve said before, there aren’t many opening acts I get so instantly attached to, but Gentleman Reg was one of those bands. Their beautifully crafted pop songs paired with vocalist, Reg Vermue’s fey, emotive voice are a perfect blend of bittersweet romanticism and wit. Vermue’s vocals are so unique and memorable that they still resonate somewhere at the centre of my solar plexus, and the music is twee, folky, and soulful all at once. Prefacing the song Rewind with a comment about how it was the only slow ballad they were going to play and that it was time for people to go to the washroom or get a drink, Vermue launched into one of the prettiest, affective songs I’ve ever heard, and the line “There’s no point in going back/When our masterpiece is crumbling” lingered in my mind as I went home. I also distinctly remember the wispy, synthy, disco-driving We’re in a Thunderstorm, the cheeky You Can’t Get It Back, the charming sing-song of Falling Back, and their self-proclaimed “Internet hit,” Give Me the Chance to Fall. Additionally, Vermue delivered rather humourous banter, which straddled the line between camp and laconic, between songs, including stories of a girl requesting that they play a Britney Spears song the night before in Regina and of shopping in West Edmonton Mall, where he threw out his back and where keyboardist, Kelly McMichael, bought a new dress. They are shortly going to be touring with Nina Persson’s non-Cardigans project A-Camp, so if you’re in one of the cities they’re hitting, make sure you check them out, and for those of us here in Winnipeg, they will be returning for Folk Fest. Buy the latest album, Jet Black, which is stunning, and then go back and collect the pre-Arts & Crafts back catalog – I know I will.

Snow in California – The Stills

Everything I Build – The Stills

You Can’t Get It Back – Gentleman Reg

Rewind – Gentleman Reg