Sheepdogs Cometh

It amazes me that as I sit here every day plugging away at a mundane day job that some folks actually make a living playing music.  They are fortunate to be able to make money pursuing their passion.  Isn’t that a novel idea?  I think so.  Lucky are those who don’t have to subsidize their passion with menial work to pay the bills to be able to afford the time to do the REAL work.

Last night, a Tuesday and a proverbial school night, I ventured into the bustling metropolis of Halifax with my friend Colleen and her son Dustin to see the Sheepdogs with Yukon Blonde opening at the Dirty O. I confess I bought the Sheepdogs second self-titled release but didn’t listen to it much.  I purchased it mostly because I was obsessed with their single ‘The Way It Is’ but nothing else really grabbed me.  My second confession is that because nothing inspired repeat listens I forgot I even had it until Colleen asked me to go to the show and even then I didn’t listen to it much, mostly because I was busy or distracted or an even combination of both. 

The idea of seeing them live appealed mostly because I’ve proven to myself time and again that often when an artist’s work isn’t holding my attention from my stereo, when presented live, I tend to come away with a completely different perspective.  I proved my own theory once again.

En route home from work I got really pumped thinking about attending a live, sweaty, smoke-laden show at the Dirty O.  It was something to look forward to after waking up only to realize my alarm hadn’t sounded and I literally had one minute to get dressed, brush my teeth and get out the door to work.  I was in a panic but managed to get where I needed to be on time without forgetting my lunch.  Arriving home, I enjoyed a much needed shower and polish and plunked myself down for a date with iTunes before hitting the road.  I listened to the whole Sheepdogs record and turned to youtube to have one last listen to Yukon Blonde’s ‘Stairway’ (because I’m obsessed with that song too!) before taking it in up close and personal.

Once at the Dirty O, early enough to beat the crowd that would swell behind us, we checked our tickets, got our trusty wrist band, paid a visit to the bar for warm beer and then the merch table so I could grab the new Yukon Blonde CD (purchased right out of the hand of the guitar player) and we took our place for the show and somehow ended up in the front row right against the barricade.  Awesome, right!?  Works for me since I’m such a short arse so no one was in front of be to obstruct my view of the rock ‘n’ roll goings on.

Yukon Blonde catapulted into their set with a wave of boundless energy.  From Kelowna, BC they delivered their unique brand of indie rock to an appreciative crowd, approval resounding brassier and bigger with each song played.  I was shaking what my mama gave me and maybe a little bit more for ‘Stairway’.  I was really impressed with their cohesive sound and their obvious appetite for playing music.  A touring band is a good band.  They are just another example of that.  I don’t know the title of the song they ended their set with but it started off moody and melodic, lowly lit with blue hues.  Instrumental homage if you will, its crescendo climbed so slowly and languidly that it teased the senses.  You could feel it, the calm before the storm and the giant wall of sound that would result.  It came, washing over the crowd and ending in thunderous applause.  I hope they visit us more often.

(Sidenote:  I am obviously an observer and I find the whole music scene on stageand backstage fascinating, mechanics, set-up  et al.  What I really loved about last night is seeing various members of the Sheepdogs camped stage-side watching their Yukon Blonde brothers play like their lives depended on it.  It’s camaraderie, it is respect.  I really dig/dug that.)

Next, a brief intermezzo to break down Yukon Blonde’s gear, as meager as it was (I mused while looking around the stage before they came on and had no idea they had their own drums because it was so small and hidden behind the Sheepdogs kit).  The road crew busied themselves with the business of sound, smoke machinery and superlative musical instrument precision and perfection.  Checking guitars and carefully lining up cold cans of Heineken.   Rock ‘n’ roll is a thirsty business after all.  During this time, I enjoyed banter with my concert cohorts, fought with the tracking ball in my Black Berry (upgrade coming soon) and jammed a little to the overhead music.  I’m pretty sure the last song we heard was something Creedence as I recall John Fogerty’s voice but it was soon squashed by a raucous roar of welcome when the Sheepdog guys took the stage, picked up their guitars, sticks and tambourines and tore into their set. 

You know what I love about the Sheepdogs?  I’ll tell you – while the music business becomes bogged down with music made by computers and strung together dance-beats (which of course have their place) the Sheepdogs harken back to a time when music was simple and honest and earthy.  Their groovy, laid back brand of boogie-woogie southern rock made me feel like I was standing in a frame of Cameron Crowe’s film (incidentally my all-time favorite flick) ‘Almost Famous’, like an acid flashback to the 1970s.  The Sheepdogs could easily have been on the bill with Stillwater.  I got caught up in the feel-goodery  conjured up by Leot Hanson’s blistering guitar solos, Sam Corbett’s punchy drum assaults, Ryan Gullen’s impressive bass lines, smooth organ sounds and even a little brass by way of trombone.  While I may have found Leot to be mesmerizing to watch, Ewan Currie was the capital.  He commanded the audience with ease, his smoky pipes and deft skills ruled.  I was also (unfortunately) the recipient of a generous spray of Leot’s saliva that flew from his mouth, one of the non-perks of front row.  I hope I’m not pregnant.

(Photo taken by the folks at Q104.  My head is directly under the bass player's knee.)

I don’t have any complaints about the show except for they gave up ‘The Way It Is’ really early in their show considering it’s such a smash hit right now.  It’s a short ditty on the record and felt like it flew by even faster live, likely because I love it so much.  I wish they had extended it, added a solo or a booga-loo to make it last longer.  When I first heard the song on the radio I was thinking, “Gee, that sounds Black Keys-ish.”  Turns out my ear is still keen, Patrick Carney, the Black Keys drummer assisted them in the studio.  Coolness.

It is safe to say that the coolest part of the show was the encore.  When the Dogs returned to the stage, they invited Jeff Innes from Yukon Blonde out and then surprised the blissed out crowd by welcoming our one and only, Matt Mays to the stage too for a rousing sing-a-long of The Band’s ‘The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down’. 

‘The night they drove old Dixie down

and the people were singing …’

Oh, and they were singing.

It was further accelerated when Yukon Blonde guitarist Brandon Scott (the dude I bought my CD from) climbed up on the barricade looking to crowd surf.  With a little help from a few of my friends we gave him a giant boost and watched him coast over a sea of eager hands until he disappeared.  Hope he made it out.

I left the venue feeling revitalized and sanctified by the powers of rock ‘n’ roll, happy to have shared a killer show with my good friend and her uber-cool spawn.  For a band I knew so little about, they really impressed me. 

No poetry today.  It’s all about the rock show.  I feel like I have smoker’s lung today.  The fog machine was in full steam and I still have a bit of a cold lingering so sometimes my voice gets squeaky.

In rock, we sacrifice.

All for now, keep on rockin’ in the free world.

In propinquity,

Nic