UK dance musician/producer Aaron Jerome (the mysterious man behind the mask of SBTRKT) made his Vancouver debut on October 25 at Fortune Sound Club and brought with him his singer sidekick Sampha, a chap who handled extra programming, steel drums and vocals, as the two-piece railed through a hybrid set of scattershot electro, house, dubstep, garage and smooth soul. Wearing the expected tribal masks (SBTRKT prefers to go “anonymous” in interviews so that folks focus the music, not the man, apparently), the duo’s set started out a mite glitchy. There were samples and beats going slightly awry, but it all warmed up nicely, as did Sampha’s strong voice.

And who knew Jerome was a decent drummer? He bashed out behind a kit for parts of the set and provided a wicked backbeat. Chicago house and soul are not typically on the BSR dance card – electro, D n’ B and techno, thanks! – but there were glimmers of that, in there as well. And the Drake/Little Dragon mashup remix of “Wildfire“? Excellent. So yeah, good to see the man behind the mask. \m/

This is Skrillex, aka Los Angelino Sonny Moore. Isn’t he fucking adorable?

If you wanna know how important Skrillex is to Dubstep (and more on the genre), watch this video. Possibly the best dubstep parody EVER. And if you dig, definitely check out Part 1. Equally lolz.

Yeah, Kurt WAS in the Foo Fighters!

We show up at the PNE Forum – which is, by far, among the worst venues in Vancouver. It’s basically an airplane hangar hive of scum and villainy, with benches rammed so close to each other you have to walk on the ledges to get out, and a huge pit where you can imagine livestock. The kids in the queue to get in are absolutely munted and finishing off spliffs. It’s Skrillex’s only all-ages show of this tour and the second night in Van ( DUBSTEP CENTRAL OF CANADA, yo), and every suburbanite is stoned, or drinking from a mickey. It’s chaos. We get frisked and the girls are asked to take their glow sticks off. The “IMPORT” Beer (Heineken) is $7.50. Where did they import it from? THE MOON?

And it’s insanely LOUD. And I’m no loud-concert pussy. I’ve survived Dinosaur Jr., Mogwai, Explosions in the Sky. THIS, this is facemelting. See?

CAUTION! WEARING STRIPEY HATS MAY CAUSE YOUR LIPS TO FALL OFF!

So we go in, find a spot. Kids are gurning, sweating, falling over, turning pink around us. This is what a nation of dubsteppers inside a warehouse looks like (as seen via my shitty point and shoot):

So we chill out, bob our heads to 12th Planet, who ’s got the kids going, and raising their lighters in the air while he bounces up and down waving his arms. It’s pretty straightforward dubstep: all whompwhompwhompwhompwobblewobble. Same with Knife Party – Gareth McGrillen and Rob Swire from Pendulum – who come on just before Skrillex. Their set’s good but a bit flatter, so we go out to the loos.

Oh yes. Let me tell you about the washrooms. Both of them. Well, actually six porta-potties and one set of women’s washrooms. FOR 2500 PEOPLE. Who are either drunk or “overhydrating” due to the crap Es they’re on. We end up standing in line for 45+ minutes and miss the beginning of Skrillex’s set. When I ask a security guard “How is this even legal?”, he replies: “Oh yeah, it’s totally against city bylaws.” Awesome. We head back in for Skrillex after celebrating two birthdays in the lineup, and go through the throngs of messy kids in fake black glasses.

That’s the little sprite in the middle, in the midst of a truly awesome white hexagon-columned stage set, upon which amazing Tron-like graphics and geometric shapes swirled. And despite a review the night before that sorta prepped me for a dull knobtwiddling exercise (Skrillex! Pressing Play on his MacBook!, Sonny Moore was megabouncing back there in his white mothership. The little alien has landed!

Looks really cool, right?

It was. The set list was equally blistering. Like, surprisingly so.

To wit: “I Wish You All the Luck of the World”, “Fucking Die”, “Kill Everybody, the punishing “Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites” (OHHHHHHH MYYYY GODDDDDD!), the call-and-response “My Name is Skrillex”, a ragga “Rude Boys,” and “DnB Ting”, “Rock and Roll (Will Take You To the Mountain)”, his remix of La Roux’s “In For the Kill” (what do you get when you mix a shrill singer with dubstep? MECHASHRILL), the really great sky-high version of Nero’s “Promises”,  a light remix of “Silver Dusk” (feat. Andre Visior) plus a cheese-tastic regular Skrillex-ed mix of Benny Bennassi’s “Cinema.” And more of course…

And while we were dancin’ away, we noticed Knife Party’s Gareth and Rob below us, taking pics with fans. Gareth was clutching a bottle of Patron, putting stickers on blonde girls’ boobs and taking pictures of them, while Rob stood there, nodding to their patron on stage…

So I go down to talk to Rob. And by talking I mean, I tap out a message on my cellphone saying that I didn’t want to shout in his ear but Nice one! for the set. He takes my phone from me and taps out: “Thanks ” and gives me the thumbs up. I like expeditious shmoozing.

Then it was back to admiring the set and the guy with the glasses. Best of the night? When he broke out ROBOTO SKRILLEX. Using  motion-capture technology, Skrillex’s robot friend appeared on the screen behind him, moving as he did.

Now, watch the video. Ignore the bombastic fuzz of the crap sound. And check out the cool mo-cap, especially around 0:25…

Fucking ace, right? First time I’ve seen mo-cap used in a gig and I always love me a first, so way to go Skrillex! Apparently 2 Many DJs have also used something similar (using Arkaos software), and it was mesmerizing. And when Ironman Skrillex started waving his arms…well, awesome.

So, yeah, Skrillex, you surprised me. Dubstep is still kinda ridiculous (sigh, find me the kids who know what drum and bass is), and you attracted a crowd of feral suburbanites tonight, but good on yer, man. I dig your anthemic trance touchpoints and that was a GREAT show. WOMPWOMPWOMPWOMPWOMP.\m/

Skrillex live at the PNE was brought to you by the letter D for Dubstep, and awesome dance promoters Blueprint Events. Reeeally wish I coulda shot this with a proper camera, but thanks!

Gah, I have no idea. Whatever. It’s totally 80s and it’s modern and isn’t it wonderful?

The stylish George Lewis Jr was in town last week (on tour with another amazing one-person nom de plume, Diamond Rings), and besides bringing his band to the local sushi joint (where we ran into ‘em), he brought a shit-hot custom Rickenbacker guitar, lots of compliments for Vancouver (calling us “sexy” and sounding pretty genuine about it) and heaps of lushness.

Check out the pics, have a listen to and/or download his latest track “Changes” below. Smooooooth AND SEXY, no?

The electro duo have a new album, called Trans-Love Energies, out September 26 . THIS IS VERY EXCITING. Particularly because the band have been talking about doing new music, for, oh, three or four years now. And it’s been a full SEVEN since their last album.

Also exciting is the fact that new single, “Your Loft”, features vocals from the otherworldly Torontonian, Katie Stelmanis from Austra. WHICH IS ALSO VERY EXCITING, because Austra is all kinds of great. The match sounds tremendous. Lightness into dark, good versus evil, you know, all the vital plot points.

My story about DIV goes back to ’94, with the release of their debut, Dead Elvis.  That CD was dusky, dub-y, dirty slow grind dance music for early mornings after wasted nights. I fell in love HARD when it was released: “Twist and Crawl” (with the English Beat’s Rankin’ Roger toasting on it) remains of one of fave songs ever, and “Dirt” features a brilliant sample from a guy on stage Woodstock, as its driving backbone. Dead Elvis holds up. It’s dark, primitive and fantastic.

Admittedly, I  fell a little out of love with subsequent DIV efforts over the years (though Scorpio Rising’s “Aisha” with Iggy Pop growls, was fab), but have always had nuff respec’ for Fearless’ sparse and edgy electro, no matter what.

So in ’96, I was ecstatic to hear of their impending arrival in Toronto. Fearless and Holmes brought with them 7 musicans, who crowded on a tiny stage at Lee’s Palace, and then blew the bloody doors off. One of those musicians was Ian Button, DIV’s longterm guitarist (formerly of Thrashing Doves) and now longtime friend of mine since that night. In my diary, I described that show as “stellar” and “throbbing”.

After the gig, me, Ian, a friend and Seamus the keyboardist, ran around trying to find rolling papers, then piled onto the tourbus and ended up in an all-back-to-theirs sort of scenario at the hotel for a full-room party. That night, an editor of the UK’s Mojo magazine, who was writing a feature on the band (back when magazine financed this kind of stuff, or, you know, paid writers), hit on me by asking me what my favourite sexual position was. Smooth, no? I declined to answer, and left alone at 4am.  But it was a ridiculously fun night. Button – who also recorded as solo artist Anthony Anderson – even wrote a song about it and called it “Ontario Skies”.

I wouldn’t see DIV again for about 5 years, when, in the middle of a tiny press conference and interview with them, I got word that my UK visa had been approved…thereby sidetracking me from the Scorpio release love-in. Shortly after I found myself celebrating with the band backstage after their show at the huge London room Ocean, and reminding drummer Simon of “that time back in Toronto.” Brilliant times, indeed.

So here we are 10 years on from that, and after a few fits and starts, there’s something new, something sparse and eerie from Death in Vegas. Trans-Love Energies seems to be, on first listen, pretty spacious. “Enforced Peace” sounds a bit chip-tuney and basic doesn’t it? But then it seems to fill out, burrow. DIV are always good to grow.

Have a listen to a couple of tracks here, plus a sampler from the album mixed by Fearless for BBC Radio 6, which is tasty. Track the album down from your favourite importers, sharpish.

It’s trippy, and it’s Death in Vegas. HAIL.\m/

Death In Vegas 2011 by Death In Vegas

Vancouver’s Vogue Theatre was electric on September 18, and not just ‘cos of all the blue energy domes in the audience. Akron’s biggest import, DEVO, were about to pop and lock on stage, and cycle through five album-oriented/ridiculous costume changes, throw out bouncy balls, call us Spuds, bring out Booji Boy to wax poetic about hanging out with Michael Jackson, jog on the spot, Whip It good and spin through a ton of their greatest new wave hits.

It was stupid, awesome fun punctuated by the fact that Mark Mothersbaugh seemed to like my camera and my side of the stage – stretching out over me many a time to either shake pom poms in our faces, stick mics in front of us during “Jocko Homo” (Q: ARE WE NOT MEN? A: WE ARE DEVO) or sing above us. Also brilliant? “Girl U Want” of course, “Planet Earth” and “Secret Agent Man”. Opener “Don’t Shoot (I’m a Man)” also contained goodness as well as grey shell suits with matching Devo shoes (holy merch cross-promo). Extra points awarded for the truly driving “Uncontrollable Urge” and “Mongoloid”.

But the best and most punk rock moments of the night? Has to go to them four guys (plus drummer) who ripped off their yellow shell suits and chucked them in the audience. One pair landed on my head, and when I looked up, what did I see besides the crotch of some yellow pants that contained ACTUAL DEVO? Four old guys (plus drummer) in t-shirts and shorts, knee pads, and knee-high old man socks. *Shudder**Squeal*

Devo, you are patently absurd but you are all kinds of shades of fun. Satisfaction…achieved. \m/

Click on the photos to embiggen >>

It was somewhere around 11.15pm on a Tuesday night when it was revealed to me that Darren Foreman/Beardyman would not be gracing the good soundsystem stage of Fortune until 12:30am. Now, I love me a good club night, don’t get me wrong. I have been known to come home late the next day, worse for wear and gurning like a loon. I understand why bars want to keep you there, drinking and parting with your wallet contents. But I do not love me a live gig that’s billed for a Tuesday and starts on a Wednesday.

So by the time London’s most awesome beatboxer – one of the best in the world – and live looper Beardyman loped on, the audience was completely munted. And I was ready to ram my head against a spike. Assoholes lurched in the front row, braying at each other and everyone around ‘em, girls pushed past each other, and some fucker kept pinching me. This gig was rapidly approach its well-past-its-sell-by-date for enjoyment. Even Beardy rapped about the American Apparel-clad students falling over each other.

But nevermind. Let’s talk Beardyman. Late or not, he’s incredible. His mouth is a science and his performance is about rhythms and beats expertly and technically looped over each other, while he also stitches in hardcore drum and bass and techno. The dude is proficient, and scary amazing in his skill.  The dark fuzz version of Prodigy’s “Smack My Bitch Up” and a hell-yeah funny take on Snow’s “The Informer” were both ace. He was high energy.

But it wasn’t quite what I was expecting. And it wasn’t quite what I wanted. Beardyman’s shows elsewhere have been more actual beatboxing and comedy performance. But tonight, I felt like I was watching a DJ. A rad DJ, but a DJ nonetheless. The heavy-duty effects – while impressive – made the performance feel less organic. He sounded great. He looked great. And the students with nothing to do in the morning totally danced great. But to me, it felt too altered, too produced. Step away from the knobs, Beardyman, I wants to hear yo’ voice. That’s where the magic is, man. More, please. \m/

BSR NOTE: This review comes following discussions with the event’s promoters in which they offered me a free ticket in exchange for watermarking my photos with their logo and only reviewing the show “in its best possible light”. I feel like I have reflected the show in its best possible light. However, I was uncomfortable doing their marketing for them by adding watermarks, nor could I commit to a positive review until I’d actually seen the performance. In the end, BSR is about honesty and integrity and it’s all I’ve got. So I bought my own ticket, and took my own shots. Hope you enjoy.

Ridiculously excited to shoot and see a fellow Dane, least of all the wicked cool knob-twiddler who knows that live shows for electro DJs should be about filling out sounds and filling the room, not about punching a Mac. Velkommen igen, Trentemøller!

Anders Trentemøller brought a five-piece band, a Moog theremin player (the fab Dorit Chrysler), a set from last year’s Coachella (which we nicknamed “the rising wall of hanging bacon”) to a smallish club in Vanland last week to launch his latest tour, and it was brilliant.

Playing a variety of chilled electro, wizzy disco, bangers and some shoulda-been-James-Bond-theme-songs, Trentemøller’s started his set behind the wall of strips, before the wall came down, and the choons came up.  Present and accountable were “Shades of Marble”, a liquid “Silver Surfer, Ghost Rider Go!”, “Moan”, “Take Me Into Your Skin” and “Miss You”, plus a bunch of shiny, happy people, not the least of which Anders himself, who had the look of “fuck yeah, our first show didn’t suck! In fact, it quite OWNED” on his face. And indeed, it so did. Check the pics. \m/

SPIN magazine favourites, SXSW chaos-inducers, robot dance pop pirates and bocci-loving friends to the BSR,  Sex With Strangers today officially launch their third album Frontier Justice out on label Boutique Empire. It’s a good’un, folks, filled with sounds that will make you bump, grind and want to drink whiskey. It’s dirty dance with some delicious technicolour new wave spunked over it.

Frontier Justice is the conceptual/spiritual/literal follow up to the most awesome Tokyo Steel, and features a rather quite stunning bit o’ front art from the same dude who did the cover of TS – artist Rob Edmonds. Rob’s the same guy, you may not recall, who played the crazy painter in SWS’ last video for “We Want The Fire“. (Speaking of videos, did I mention that YOURS TRULY is in an SWS video? NO? Yes? Check it here.)

And as SWS are obsessed with robots, a futuristic society, urban decay, synthesizers and lynx (though I always argue the superior merits of the tarsier or platypus), it seemed only fitting that we ask singer Hatch Benedict and guitarist Wedge Beavers to provide BackstageRider with a suitable Top 11 to celebrate the launch of the new album. Ladies, gentlemen and robots in between, I present:

Top 11 Clues Your Girlfriend is a Robot…by Sex With Strangers

1) The cold, cold touch of her hand

2) Her parents never existed

3) She’s writes everything in capital letters

4) She knows every word to the Ewok song

5) Your friends are constantly nagging you with, “Hey man, she’s a robot”

6) Your cat has been missing for a week.

7) In your browser history, you stumble upon a Google search for ”Why is my vagina beeping?”

8 ) She celebrates Lorne Greene’s birthday.

9) She’s secretly pissed you never wear the “I’m with robot” t-shirt she bought you.

10) She has an unusual aversion to water and pancake batter.

11) She whispers in your ear “I’m a f-cking robot”.

Shit. I THINK MY GIRLFRIEND IS  A ROBOT!  I love you, SWS. Bocci soon? You bring the balls, I’ll bring the booze. \m/

Sex With Strangers launch Frontier Justice tonight in Vancouver at the Biltmore Cabaret.

“Ho-lee. CRAP. This. Is. Going. To. Be. Mental” is precisely what we said (complete with the full-stops) when we arrived at the Commodore Ballroom on Feb 20, for UK/Aussie drum n’bassterds Pendulum.

The crowd – average age: legal to drink plus about 16 hours. In fact, nearly foetal – were frothing, feral. Glowsticks, costumes, ridiculous Ed Hardy-wear, bandanas, baseball caps, highheels, belts for skirts, cyber-dreds, trainers, the works. They were chanting. PEN-DU-LUM! PEN-DU-LUM! And dancing as if that 6th Smirnoff Ice really hit the spot. The back of the sold out, big room was dancing. The bartenders were dancing. The balcony was dancing. Tables had been moved away to make room for more dancing. Every fucking kid was dancing.

In other words, it was a perfect, messy, happy storm.

Pendulum bemuse me, as much as they entertain. As a DJ act – just Paul Harding and Ben “MC Verse” Mount – they’re hardcore fun (how I prefer them). As a full five-piece, they’ve figured out a commercial mashup of mainstream drum and bass, heavy rock and vocodery action that drives said aforementioned kids wylde.

Of course, Pendulum also serve up just enough cheddar to grate the cheese of D n’ B purists – hey! I saw Roni Size back in March of ‘98 wah wah wah, no really, I did! etc. Verse is a Sarf or East London wideboy, skull cap on, and manic smiles. He bounds and runs like he’s been surfing the rails *cough* and throws out enough “WHAT’S UP? LEMME HEAR IT VANCOOOOOOVER! I CAHHHHN’T HEAR YOU! ARE WE GONNA RAISE THE ROOF?” that we seriously considered starting a drinking game. But I still dig him. Guitarist Peredur Ap Gwynedd had a fan on him – the electrical kind – so he looked all blond-hair blowy and suspiciously like an extra from a Kenny G video. Gareth McGrillen was in a sort of molded-baseball cap, black-leatherette gear and came complete with awesome rock poses. Rob Swire, who sung a fair chunk of the setlist, impressed with his redonkulous MIDI guitar, minus the headstock and tuning pegs. There were side lights, front lights, a raised drum kit, and bass made everything that wasn’t bolted down shake. Plus there was a PENDULUM backdrop! THIS WAS BIG!

So, hey, Pendulum, I’ll give you credit. Everywhere they go, the kids want to rock. And to a mental mutation of drum and bass and mainstream rock? Alright. As you were. But we can’t believe you didn’t play “Hold Your Colour.” Grumble grumble. \m/

PENDULUM SET LIST FOR VANCOUVER:

• Salt in the Wounds
• The Vulture
• Showdown
• Voodoo People
• Witchcraft
• Fasten Your Seatbelts
• Slam
• The Island Pt 1
• The Island Pt 2
• Granite
• Comprachicos
• Tarantula
• Propane Nightmares
• Blood Sugar
  ——–
• Crush
• Watercolour
• Outro

Curiosity drew young hipsters, dandies and goths to see new Chicago indie kids SALEM at Vancouver’s Waldorf Hotel because clearly they appreciated being dry-ice smoked out and plunged into near bleak whilst a soundwall of droney, depressing darkfuzz crumbled on top of them. If you listened closely, you could almost hear the crack of a thousand thick, black glasses frames.

It was a fine way to spend a Saturday night.

Not for the darkness and claustrophobic, withdrawal-itchy strobes that twitched to remind us there was a band on stage. That was not fun, no. Nor was the utterly un-present Heather Marlatt, staring into the pitch blankly – deadly – and sorta-singing too quietly into the mix. She was not fun.

So what was fun?

THIS was fun: The mashup of weird early Cure/goth, deep layered Korgs and effect box sounds, miles-away wailing, eerie wooshes from John Holland and the odd, dirtygroove rapping (rapping? What the fuck?) of Jack Donoghue amidst the thickness. This is parents-just-don’t-understand music, where goth and synths and hiphop have collided in parts, and it’s gross and you have to swim through crude oil find the melody. Which makes it fun. Okay, maybe not fun. But trippy. And kinda rad.

Not putting money down on a long and fruitful SALEM career, but if you ever believed Sartre on the whole “hell is other people” thing, then this just might be a good soundtrack for you. \m/

SALEM’s debut full-lengther is called King Night. Check ‘em out on MySpazz