Robyn Writes

Simple Plan, and why a Canadien band might ruin my sex life by soufex

I’ve been into Fugazi since I was around 12 or 13 years old. I credit Jawbreaker as one of my favourite bands of all time, ever.

I like Queer Black Flag cover bands, Love And Rockets, and Nothing Nice To Say. I support my local and global scene, I buy records from, and food for, my favourite artists.

I make my own band shirts.

And then, there’s Simple Plan.

A band who single handedly somehow manage to undo all my good work, revoke my hxc punx license, and cause my girlfriend to shake her head at me in despair.

And I don’t quite understand why. Sure, Pierre Bouvier isn’t getting any less whiny any time soon, and god forbid they might be on a major label, but they seem like good boys, and a lot of good work goes down in their name (for instance, the Simple Plan Foundation, a charitable organisation those pesky kids set up all by themselves). I admit when I was younger I probably would have been more quick to judge and call them filthy MTV sellouts, but under closer inspection, much like any other band they have worked hard to get to where they are today. Maybe it’s because so many customers at work seem to think I’m Canadien. (Incidentally, I’m still wondering if I can petition for citizenship with these figures.)

I’m going to go out and say it: I really like this band, they shall not be my guilty pleasure! My respect and appreciation is honest; in a culture where you can’t seem to escape elitism, you don’t go slinging love around for a band like Simple Plan to make yourself cooler. They’re too mainstream for hipster audiophiles to respect, but not pop culture enough for hipster audiophiles to fawn over in an ironic fashion. So, here and now, I’m standing up in my (100% cotton, hand screened, conscienciously produced, might I add) Role Model Co. t-shirt (tailored to fit, because their sizes are far too generous, or Canadiens are all just huge) and saying, hell yeah, I love Simple Plan. I love Simple Plan, and contrary to common belief, this does not negate my love for any other band I hold even dearer to my heart.

And granted, a multi-million selling, internationally acclaimed pop band doesn’t need my support or defence, but not taking it lying down probably puts in an appeal for my punx licence.

sfx.

PS. Some further listening, for those willing to put their licences on the line:

~Sébastien and Patrick’s Man of the Hour Hour, hosted by Sébastien Lefebvre and Patrick Langlois of PS, a regular hour-or-so long podcast made up of inane chatter with French accents and a pleasant mix of music from established and up-and-coming bands. (A while ago, Pat was bitching about how Joey Cape’s project Afterburner didn’t have enough listeners on MySpace, which pretty much set my love for him in stone.)

Show Stereotypes You Want To Punch In The Face: HEAVY FUCKING METAL

I remember doing one of these a long, long time ago, and even more vaguely remember saying there’d be a part two at some point. So pretty much a year later, here we go! Based on the fact that I went to a Municipal Waste show on Saturday, let’s do this METAL STYLE.

Thrash Metal Jacket
Seriously, why the hell do these guys think they’re cool? Denim jackets haven’t been in vogue since Saved By The Bell. I understand all about wanting to represent your favourite bands, but so many patches on one jacket? It’s confusing. It’s messy. It’s just not suave. These guys are also the ones who’ll be making the ‘devil horns’ gesture that nobody’s done since they were 14.

How to deal with them: Subliminal, subliminal mocking. You know you love it.

Emo kid, get the fuck outta Dodge!
The scene kid who should have been at the Kerrang! Tour next door, but decided to stick it out and be hardcore for some unknown reason. They’ll be found wearing a The Devil Wears Prada or Bless The Fall shirt, because that’s generally as close as they get to metal. You’ll recognise them instantly – just look for the fringe and skinny jeans. Usually found with friends.

How to deal with them: Fling ’em in the pit. Aiden might call out for a wall of death at their shows, but these kids will have no idea what a real one’s like.

Goth girl ain’t got style
I’m not generally one to poke fun at the goths. I went through that whole phase, I got some respect. However, when you’ve got a fucking huge mohawk, are wearing boots as tall as my shins and you’re stood right in front of me, then I’m gonna be pissed. Also, depending upon what metal gig you’re at, the goths can bring the mood right down. That’s cool when it’s Opeth, not so much when it’s Anthrax.

How to deal with them: Unfortunately, those boots are like body armour, making your job a bit tougher. However, attack them on the psychological front by wearing as much colour as possible.

Punk? In my metal show?
We can all be fans of whatever genre we like, that’s a given. But you still get those old punks – and I mean old – who share an affinity with the thrash metal guy due to their mutual love of denim jackets, studs and songs under two minutes long. Despite these deep rooted ties, they just look out of place now, especially as they’re balding, fat and work in an office.
How to deal with them: No need to bother, they might break a hip in the moshpit.

Mommy, can I go out and mosh tonight?
This was me, a very long time ago. And I bet I was annoying as fuck. You know who I mean – the little kids with parents in tow. It wasn’t too bad when I was a kid; my parents actually liked the same music as me. But I really feel for those parents who stand at the back with the merch, nodding politely, while their kids stand at the edge of the pit, too afraid to join in and generally getting in the way.

How to deal with them: Be nice! You were there too at one point. Hell, my dad still takes me to shows on occasion.

Show Stereotypes You Want To Punch In The Face pt 1

If you’re a regular concert goer, then there’s no doubt that you’ll know of the entire multitude of annoying people that can confront you when you’re there. Every time you go to a show, you will see these people. Whether it’s a low key affair with 80 people or an arena gig with 10,000 people, it’s inevitable. So, if you can’t escape it, why not poke subtle fun at their ridiculous facades? Find out how with TBO’s friendly guide!

The fangirl
Perhaps the most hated of all, the fangirl is sadly a common beast. They gather in groups, giggling away with their cameras at the ready so they can snap as many pictures of the ever so gorgeous lead singer that their Myspace will hold. Who knows, if they do enough whining and waiting, they may even get a photo with the lead singer himself. They know all the lyrics and they will sing them badly into your ears, blocking any sound of the band itself.

How to deal with them: Fangirls are relatively stupid for the most part. A simple “Look over there, it’s Gerard Way!” will distract them for a good ten minutes and send them off in the opposite direction. Alternatively, throw those free stickers that you got from the support band outside towards the moshpit. That’ll teach ’em.

The hardcore fan who can’t find the moshpit
Not quite as bad as fangirls, but almost as annoying. These guys also love the band to near rabid proportions, but it’s because they actually appreciate the music. The band just… gets them, man. Their lyrics are so perfect to life, you know? Most of the time, these guys are 15 and scared of the pit, so they jump and flail around in front of you instead, inflicting pain and irritation on a mass scale. Just asking them to move three steps to the left never works.

How to deal with them: A swift shove into the middle of the pit should sort them out in no time.

The couple at the front
Oh, how you hate the couple at the front. They’re usually attractive and in love and they will shove it in your face by kissing really overtly in front of you. They’re always right on the barrier, but they’re only ever paying attention to each other. Politely asking them to move will result in them parting, sneering a ‘fuck you’ and going back to default position. And they make you jealous because you’re single.

How to deal with them: Grab the nearest (and preferably most attractive) person to you and start making out with them. The couple at the front are not big fans of competition.

The elitist
Ah, the elitist. An old TBO favourite. They’re there to irritate you with their casual glances, hip clothing and know-it-all attitude. Really, they know everything about the band, but not in a creepy way – in that hip and awesome way that makes you wish that you were that passionate about your favourite band. They stand at the back, watching politely, eyes never wandering. Sometimes they appear with friends, but not often. You hate them because they’ll probably have a beer with the band later.

How to deal with them: The elitist never does anything to directly offend, so it’s difficult. To be honest, they’re impenetrable.

The scene queen
This used to only apply to pop-punk and those irritating metalcore shows, but now the scene queen is slowly creeping towards your subculture. You know the type – big hair, loud makeup, neon clothes; all the shit that reflects when the lights go on the crowd. They probably have a bad cursive tattoo of All Time Low lyrics across their chest and will bitch you out if you so much as look at them with mild disdain. Well, that is unless you get out a camera.

How to deal with them: Try and best them at their own game with some equally glaring makeup of your own. They hate scene queen rivals.

Remember – be prepared. Only you can protect your fellow show goers from these menaces!

A series of shorter reviews by ninthandash

Camera Obscura — My Maudlin Career.
I adore this, definitely my album of the summer. Lazy, summer-fused indie pop with a female vocalist, the songs are golden brown and induce images of laying half-asleep in the grass with heart-shaped sunglasses. This is the band’s fourth album and, as usual, betters the standards they’ve previously set. With a hint of irony — of course, the album was rated 8.3 on Pitchfork — Tracyanne Campbell sings, “This maudlin career has come to an end/ I don’t want to be sad again.” But the entire album showcases what Camera Obscura do best — the maudlin and nostalgic songs that inspire a strange feeling of melancholy. Compared perhaps too often to Belle & Sebastian, the similarities are there without a doubt, but in my opinion Camera Obscura do it better. This is one not to be missed.

Japandroids — Post-Nothing (Promo).
The quality is obviously sub-par, but this can be easily overlooked due to the fact this album is only a promo. That said, this builds an incredible level of anticipation to hear what the Japandroids will come up with for their official debut. The album opens with The Boys Are In Town, catchy and rough. The unpolished feel to all the tracks, instead of detracting from the music, simply adds a raw and honest energy to the tracks. The music takes the listener up and down on a rollercoaster, the melodies at first sounding entirely random but in fact acting as a common thread to pull the songs together. It’s exactly the kind of music that stays on repeat; dizzy and disorientating, with a catchy rush after each track. A+ for effort.

Sunn O))) — Monoliths and Dimensions.
While technically, this is a great album, nothing about drone or black metal is appealing. Two of the album’s four tracks are over sixteen minutes long, and the ‘drone’ genre is aptly named. While Sunn O))) are doing well for the genre, and are perhaps one of the best bands to come out of it, it’s like making the comparison to a Disney star; while they may be the best to come out of the Disney machine, it’s still not a notable achievement. The majority of the album sounds like nothing more than a single note being played repeatedly on a guitar, while the worst of it sounds like feedback from a slightly broken amp. This is definitely an album to avoid.

Cymbals Eat Guitars — Why There Are Mountains.
While Why There Are Mountains has moments of sheer genius; melodies rising above the lyrics, unexpected crashes and soars, sadly this isn’t enough. Described as the ‘indie road trip album’, this does sum it up, though not exactly in a good way. The album may be boring in a CD player or on an iPod, but would provide the perfect soundtrack to a road trip, acting as background music with friends and coming second to the landscape outside the window. The repetitive crescendos sound overly theatrical, and the band are simply trying to pack too many ideas into their music, leading parts to sound messy and like the band need a definitive idea of what they are trying to achieve. However, for a young band, and considering this is a self-released debut, it’s a strong effort and leaves the listener, while not overly impressed, anticipatory for what Cymbals Eat Guitars pull out of their hats next.

David Cook — S/T.
Yes, that’s right, the 2008 American Idol winner. I know, American Idol is nothing more than a glorified karaoke contest, and a fast-track to insta-fame. Believe me, I felt the same way. Fame — or, at least, success — should be earned. It should come from years of touring in a shitty van, playing to no one but a few friends and family, et cetera. But David Cook has done all that. He already has one album out pre-Idol that was self-released. He’s done the touring thing, done the working hard thing, and American Idol was his one last hurrah. Of course, this in no way justifies my guilty enjoyment of this album. But it’s so ironic that the man who fell so neatly into Idol’s ‘rockstar’ stereotype was entirely the type of man who, before, would have railed against the Idol-machine with the rest of us. And the album is catchy; Come Back To Me, for example, is upbeat and so fun that listeners will be humming it under their breaths all day. While the lyrics are, mostly, the cliched love songs that enspan most generic rock albums, there are a few gems. Permanent is one of them, a heart-wrenching lament to the singer’s (now deceased) brother, who suffered from brain cancer. And who can’t love Bar Ba Sol, a song unshamedly using words like ‘fugue’?

Live: Sherwood – 26/11/08 [Leeds Cockpit]

The gig was at Leeds Cockpit, one of the best venues that Leeds has to offer, and the first band on were Summerlin — I think. Now, here’s where it gets tricky. The other band supporting that night were London-based Paige. I’ll admit I’m writing this review a little while after the gig, so I pulled up both band’s MySpaces in order to glance over the photos and just confirm what order they were in. However, I ran into some problems here, namely because I found it incredibly difficult to tell the two bands apart.

Stylishly long, dyed hair – check. Bright, colourful t-shirts – check. Tattoos of various hearts/stars/cartoons – check.

After a few more minutes of staring intently at both sets of photos, I finally managed to decide who had been who. So, the first band, Summerlin, took the stage and the lead singer bounded into centre place in front of us. My immediate reaction was to turn to my friend and hiss in her ear, “Is that guy trying to be Trace Cyrus?” Not a good first impression, and things only went downhill from there as I noticed the bright, sleeveless All Time Low shirt he was displaying proudly. I did not, I’ll admit, have high hopes for this band. Sadly, this was confirmed as they launched into their first song. The dancing seemed contrived and forced, the songs were generic and every one sounded exactly like the one before. They were clearly trying, and trying hard, but it seemed like they were only trying to be like every other power-pop Farewell-style band out there.

Next, was Paige. Exactly the same scenario. The band, as I’ve mentioned, looked similar and even appeared to have the same stage antics. The keyboardists had both thrown themselves around, seemingly more into their movements than the music, and the bands began to merge together in my mind, making it hard to distinguish between them. Not one of either Summerlin’s or Paige’s songs stuck in my mind, and the verdict on both was the same: utterly forgettable.

Luckily, Sherwood were up next and they were as on form as always. Sherwood are a band, I always say, that you don’t have to know any of their songs in order to be able to enjoy them live and this was certainly true. The energy in the room increased sharply the minute they took to the stage, and every single member of the audience appeared to be singing along or jumping up and down — involved in some way. Sherwood are nothing if not fun, and genuine, and this is always broadcasted tenfold at their live shows. They’re definitely one of those bands who I think should be a lot bigger than they are, and this includes their lack of mainstream success. They have links with MySpace, signed to MySpace Records, and every song sounds original, fresh and exciting.

Originality was something that had been severely lacking in the show so far, and the two earlier lacklustre performances only served to drive home exactly how much of a change Sherwood are. We were treated to a few songs from their new album; one was an acoustic one which had the powerful effect of silencing completely every single member of the audience, with only the sound of the guitar and Nate’s voice filling the small venue. After a Sherwood show, instead of feeling drained or tired, the overall feeling is one of happiness and excitement, and it is near on impossible to leave without the overall feeling of having had an amazing time.

The band are also genuinely nice guys, at least two of them sticking around after every performance happy to meet and talk to the fans. In today’s scene, where it seems to be more about the success than the people, it’s a refreshing change and something that I do think counts for a lot.