I know a hiphop concert isn't the place to look for discerning intellects - hell, that's true about any concert involving popular music - but do they have to treat us like idiots? And worse, do we have to prove they are justified in treating us that way?
I'm referring to the Black Eyed Peas show at Molson Amphitheatre this past Saturday night, to which Brittany won tickets through the Toronto Sun. There was never any question that I would be her escort, my wife having no interest in travelling to the lower reaches of Metro without my companionship that late at night. Opening for them were Swollen Members, who I think are okay, and Rihanna, the pronunciation of whose name has been a matter of dispute between Brittany and I for some time and which was resolved in my favour at said concert, about who I have no real opinion. As for BEP, I knew enough of their songs to not look completely out of place.
The problem, it turns out, with Swollen Members is that their songs all sound the same, which when played individually on the radio is fine but not so good back-to-back-to-back in a 30-minute set. Still, for only three guys, one of whom was stuck behind his DJ set, they were entertaining enough, especially Moka Only (I think that's his name). Rihanna, unfortunately, gorgeous though she may be, was not that interesting to watch. There were three costume changes, which at least shook things up a bit, but her backup dancers were horrible. Brittany and I agreed that we saw better dancers every year in our annual dance recital. The crowd, only half of whom were present for Swollen Members, had by then filled up, and they were certainly enthusiastic. But she still sucked. Even worse, it seemed after each song there were endless calls for us to make some noise, and cries about how much she loved Toronto, to which the idiots in the crowd screamed as if the approval of some youngster who they'll all have forgotten about in a year or so was critical to their self-image and the world reputation of their city.
This unfortunately continued with BEP, but it was less annoying because I actually believe adult pop musicians love coming to Canada because of our less restrictive laws on the subject of mind-altering substances. Plus, their show was completely awesome from start to finish, surprising me by how many of their songs I actually already knew, and knew well. Every member of the group and their backup band had showcase moments, and each was up to the task. And though Fergie is the centre of their marketing campaign and thus the most visible Pea, the true workhorse and leader in the charisma department is will.i.am, who had several showcase moments, including an acoustic performance with their guitarist of the Peas/Jack Johnson collaboration (the name of which escapes me right now). They ended the "A" part of show with a powerful version of "Where is the Love?", then encored with "Don't Phunk With My Heart", "My Humps" (Brittany's favourite) and "Let's Get Retarded" (Maxine's least favorite). It was a really fun concert and we had a great father-daughter night.
Of course, I can't leave off without mentioning the people in front of us. First, there was a family of mom, dad and four blonde daughters. Dad clearly had no interest in being there, the two youngest really seemed out of it and mom was trying her best to be cool. Of the remaining daughters, one kept turning to Brittany asking her if she noticed this or that thing - just a nice kid. As for the oldest, who couldn't have been more than 16, her mother bought her a beer at one point. Fun family. Next to them was a woman, about my age, with frizzy hair and about 100 pounds more than she needs to be carrying. She clearly thought she was pretty hot stuff, and who was I to disagree? (Well . . .) Anyway, she knew every song and danced and sang along, which is cute when you're 10 but sort of pathetic at 42 when the band in question is a pop act. With her was a young girl, presumably her daughter, WHO FELL ASLEEP! I don't know how she could do it - this may have been the loudest concert I've ever attended. Pretty impressive feat, actually.
Anyway, I survived, and even Brittany throwing up on the train home couldn't dampen the evening, especially with all our fellow citizens coming to our rescue with barf bags and tissues. As I told her, I'm sure she wasn't the only drunk to throw up on the TTC Saturday night.
I'm referring to the Black Eyed Peas show at Molson Amphitheatre this past Saturday night, to which Brittany won tickets through the Toronto Sun. There was never any question that I would be her escort, my wife having no interest in travelling to the lower reaches of Metro without my companionship that late at night. Opening for them were Swollen Members, who I think are okay, and Rihanna, the pronunciation of whose name has been a matter of dispute between Brittany and I for some time and which was resolved in my favour at said concert, about who I have no real opinion. As for BEP, I knew enough of their songs to not look completely out of place.
The problem, it turns out, with Swollen Members is that their songs all sound the same, which when played individually on the radio is fine but not so good back-to-back-to-back in a 30-minute set. Still, for only three guys, one of whom was stuck behind his DJ set, they were entertaining enough, especially Moka Only (I think that's his name). Rihanna, unfortunately, gorgeous though she may be, was not that interesting to watch. There were three costume changes, which at least shook things up a bit, but her backup dancers were horrible. Brittany and I agreed that we saw better dancers every year in our annual dance recital. The crowd, only half of whom were present for Swollen Members, had by then filled up, and they were certainly enthusiastic. But she still sucked. Even worse, it seemed after each song there were endless calls for us to make some noise, and cries about how much she loved Toronto, to which the idiots in the crowd screamed as if the approval of some youngster who they'll all have forgotten about in a year or so was critical to their self-image and the world reputation of their city.
This unfortunately continued with BEP, but it was less annoying because I actually believe adult pop musicians love coming to Canada because of our less restrictive laws on the subject of mind-altering substances. Plus, their show was completely awesome from start to finish, surprising me by how many of their songs I actually already knew, and knew well. Every member of the group and their backup band had showcase moments, and each was up to the task. And though Fergie is the centre of their marketing campaign and thus the most visible Pea, the true workhorse and leader in the charisma department is will.i.am, who had several showcase moments, including an acoustic performance with their guitarist of the Peas/Jack Johnson collaboration (the name of which escapes me right now). They ended the "A" part of show with a powerful version of "Where is the Love?", then encored with "Don't Phunk With My Heart", "My Humps" (Brittany's favourite) and "Let's Get Retarded" (Maxine's least favorite). It was a really fun concert and we had a great father-daughter night.
Of course, I can't leave off without mentioning the people in front of us. First, there was a family of mom, dad and four blonde daughters. Dad clearly had no interest in being there, the two youngest really seemed out of it and mom was trying her best to be cool. Of the remaining daughters, one kept turning to Brittany asking her if she noticed this or that thing - just a nice kid. As for the oldest, who couldn't have been more than 16, her mother bought her a beer at one point. Fun family. Next to them was a woman, about my age, with frizzy hair and about 100 pounds more than she needs to be carrying. She clearly thought she was pretty hot stuff, and who was I to disagree? (Well . . .) Anyway, she knew every song and danced and sang along, which is cute when you're 10 but sort of pathetic at 42 when the band in question is a pop act. With her was a young girl, presumably her daughter, WHO FELL ASLEEP! I don't know how she could do it - this may have been the loudest concert I've ever attended. Pretty impressive feat, actually.
Anyway, I survived, and even Brittany throwing up on the train home couldn't dampen the evening, especially with all our fellow citizens coming to our rescue with barf bags and tissues. As I told her, I'm sure she wasn't the only drunk to throw up on the TTC Saturday night.
posted by George @ 7:59 p.m.
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