Showing posts with label east vancouver. Show all posts
Showing posts with label east vancouver. Show all posts

Monday, March 26, 2012

Veda Hille

I'm a little behind posting my published articles. After all, it's been a busy month!

MUSIC: Veda Hille - Do you HE[A]R what I hear?


Coming off a successful run of her critically acclaimed debut musical, Do You Want What I Have Got? A Craigslist Cantata, Veda Hille is anxious to get back to basics. For the longtime East Van musician that means reuniting with her band, and kicking off Vancouver New Music’s HE[A]R series, billed as “sound events for the active listener.” Each weekly show, beginning Mar. 8 and wrapping up Mar. 22, will run the gamut of contemporary music, from electronic and indie to experimental and avant-garde. Hille spoke with WE last week about playing on International Women’s Day, creating her own arts centre, funding cuts and eking out a viable living as a musician in Vancouver.

Why did you want to be involved in HE[A]R?
I’ll do anything Georgio [Magnanensi, VNM’s artistic director] asks. He’s been such an incredible collaborator, friend and presence in my musical life. Whatever he wants, I will do and it always works out well.

Friday, February 10, 2012

Wilco review

My review of Wilco's fantastic show at the Orpheum is online at Exclaim.ca


Wilco

Orpheum, Vancouver BC February 5

Wilco - Orpheum, Vancouver BC February 5

By Andrea Warner 

Nine songs into one of the best shows the Orpheum has ever hosted, Wilco's Jeff Tweedy finally spoke to his rapt audience, most of whom had been on their feet from the moment the band took the stage. He spontaneously congratulated one couple on their engagement and guessed that another guy had recently lost a pet, jokingly explaining to the crowd that he was psychic.

Well, he might be. There's really no other way to explain how eerily prescient the band's set list proved to be for one disastrous relationship that imploded in halting highs and lows, distractingly, publicly, in the front row throughout Wilco's career-spanning two-hour set.

The drama began about 15 minutes before Tweedy and crew hit the stage, when some kind of argument -- the woman was furious, the man was attempting to cajole her into good spirits, it seemed -- escalated, and the woman suddenly slapped the man across the face. She stormed out and it seemed perhaps the drama was over before it began. Sadly, she came back just as the house lights dimmed and the overhead lights illuminated the beautiful stage design -- long ropes of knotted white cloths that looked like miniature homemade ghost costumes hanging in rows and rows.

The band opened with the beautiful Whole Love weeper "One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley's Boyfriend)." As Tweedy sang the chorus, "Outside I look lived in / Like the bones in a shrine / How am I forgiven? / Oh, I'll give it time," the man mouthed along, attempting to put his arm around the woman's shoulder, only to have her eventually shrug him off angrily. This continued through a stunning version of "Poor Places" and a psychedelic light display for the psych-rocking "Art of Almost," followed by the peppy, almost joyful "I Might."

As the couple's fighting continued, the band moved onto one of their biggest hits, "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," with the whole audience belting along with the soaring chorus. Tweedy's lyrical poignancy increased on the heart-breaking "Radio Cure" -- "All distance has a way of making love understandable" -- and the fight got physical again as the woman pushed the man about four feet and stormed over to security. After an intense discussion, which Tweedy seemed to watch out of the corner of his eye while he jammed on the guitar, security left them both where they were and Wilco kicked up the beat.

There was a little country edge of "Born Alone" before the band made their way to the stirring "I'll Fight," with Tweedy promising, "I'll fight, I'll fight, I'll fight, I'll fight for you / I'll kill, I'll kill, I'll kill, I'll kill for you / I will, I will, I will," and of course the man sang along while the woman shooed him away. When Wilco busted out "Via Chicago" and Tweedy sang, "I dreamed about killing you again last night / And it felt all right to me," he seemed to sing it in their direction pointedly, a gleam in his eye and a smile on his lips.

Security came by again for the couple -- and left almost as quickly -- just after Wilco came back for their encore following a thunderous standing ovation. Tweedy turned on his falsetto for a beautiful version of "Whole Love" before segueing into fan favourite "Heavy Metal Drummer." The big, bold finish came courtesy of the crashing crescendo of "Outtasight (Outta Mind)," the perfect end to an amazing show, and a fantastic kiss-off -- hopefully -- to love gone wrong.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The Pack ad

My interview with the Pack a.d. is in this week's WE.

The Pack a.d.

The Pack a.d. to rock the roof at Olio

The last time Becky Black and Maya Miller, the two halves of garage-rock whole the Pack a.d., were driving along the Oregon coast, it was all sun, sand and um, a dead walrus. This time around, Black is more hopeful. She and Miller are en route to Arcada, Calif. on the eve of the release of their fourth album, Unpersons (in stores Sept. 13). It’s a blazing, bruising collection of emotionally charged rock ’n’ roll, with deviations into blues and punk. It’s the East Van pair’s best offering to date and we’ll get our first taste when they make their Olio Festival debut Sept. 24.

You’re driving on the Oregon coast. Did you stop at the Sea Lion Caves?
Becky Black: No, but one time we stopped at the beach and there was a dead walrus. It was such a beautiful day and then there’s a not very beautiful smell happening. Live seals, that would be better.

They smell bad, too, even the live ones. Those caves just smell like poop for miles.
Well, they’re just sitting on rocks, sunbathing and pooping all day long.

Are you two trying to kill yourselves, releasing so quickly?
Is it that quick? When was the last one? Last year, yeah. We release every year. For us it’s not that hard to come up with songs and do an album. It’s almost better because then we can start playing new songs and dump the old ones. We have ADD; the older songs get boring after a while. Is that kinda soon? I guess.

Many bands take two or three years between records.
Yeah, that’s true. I guess we just shit them out like seals.

Are you writing together?
It’s split pretty 50/50. But quite often I’ll write and song and not finish it. I don’t really finish a lot of things in my life, so it’s good to have a partner who can help me finish things. That happens with the songwriting, too. I’ll have the first verse or the chorus and Maya will fill in the rest. Or, she’ll write a whole song, it’ll be like a poem, and we’ll write the song around it. We kind of had a theme going with animals and — actually, well, things that aren’t human, ghosts and demons, and then a few break-up songs.

What’s the most personal song?
Maybe “Pieces.” That song’s just kind of about me. Some songs we’ll write a story about a break up but it didn’t actually happen in real life, like it sounds personal and everyone can relate to that.

Unpersons sounds more confident, more polished. This sounds condescending somehow.
No, it’s good. Everyone hopes to improve over time. Yeah, we feel more [confident]. When we started this, neither of us had spent years in other bands trying to figure out what we really wanted to do. We just started this band on a whim, kinda, and recorded an album pretty soon after that. So, every year after it’s just been all the touring and album after album, it’s just been a learning curve. We’ve just naturally, hopefully, improved.

What is rock ’n’ roll to you?
It’s not really about the getting wasted and fucked up and being that kind of — I mean, I know that’s the epitome of being a rock star and people kind of idolize people or look up to them even though they’re messed up. I don’t know what it is. Maybe people just like to watch a train wreck — that makes a person more interesting if they’re unwieldy and messed up. I prefer to just enjoy the music part of it.

Have you played the Olio Festival before?
We’ve never played Olio before and I think it will be cool. I think we’re playing on the rooftop of a clothing store. It seems like we barely ever play Vancouver. I always enjoy hometown gigs.

The Pack a.d. plays the Olio Festival on Sept. 24. Tickets and full schedule: 2011.OlioFestival.com.

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Hard Times Hit Parade

My cover story for this week's WEVancouver features the Dusty Flowerpot Cabaret's Hard Times Hit Parade.

Hard Times Hit Parade cast members Chris Ross, David MacMurray Smith, and Jack Garton (from left) create a Depression-era carnival atmosphere set inside a dance-athon.
Hard Times Hit Parade cast members Chris Ross, David MacMurray Smith, and Jack Garton (from left) create a Depression-era carnival atmosphere set inside a dance-athon.
Credit: Courtesy Amanda Bullick

COVER STORY: Bohemian Rhapsody


In a rehearsal studio overlooking Hastings Street in the heart of the Downtown Eastside, several people are watching performers move full-body puppets in exaggerated motions across the floor. In the back corner sits a man holding an accordion, waiting for his cue, while others manipulate a naked marionette whose dress won’t be ready for days yet.

“She’s more anatomically correct than I am,” one woman jokes.

Welcome to a Thursday night rehearsal with Dusty Flowerpot Cabaret (DFC), the East Vancouver performing arts collective. From its first show in 2007, The Valley of Ashes, to last year’s The Village, the volunteer-based DFC has achieved the near-impossible: transforming the scope of independent theatre through community engagement.

“The intention was to collaborate with various types of artists,” says Kat Single-Dain of DFC’s formation in 2006. “The idea of collaboration is really closely linked to community for us. The arts bringing people closer together was something we had experienced, and we wanted to bring other people together through our [own] productions.”

Since that first meeting five years ago, the collective has grown from 11 to over 35 members, attracted hundreds of volunteers, and has been commissioned to create shows for a variety of other local arts organizations like the PuSh International Performing Arts Festival and Tremors Festival at The Cultch. DFC has also been tapped to help produce the Public Dreams Society’s Parade of Lost Souls. The colletive had done all this in addition to three original, large-scale productions — multimedia spectacles that involve everything from live music to puppetry, clowning to dance, and visual arts to storytelling.

DFC’s newest event, Hard Times Hit Parade (opening Feb. 24), is, in some ways, the group’s most ambitious project to date. Not only will it enjoy a one-month residency at the Russian Hall, but the DFC is turning it into a feature film in hopes of screening it at arts festivals around the world.

The cast and crew number about 35, all collective members, and boasts double that number of volunteers, bringing the total to over 100 people involved from start-to-finish. It’s a staggering number, particularly since the majority of the collective have spent the better part of the last five months working on Hard Times. September to December of last year was devoted to work-shopping the script, and intensive rehearsals started in early January. As with previous productions, the collective has a profit-sharing system in place to provide some compensation once the final curtain drops and the costs have been covered.

Hard Times marks the first DFC production to begin with a small budget. The collective received its first Canada Council grant ($23,500) last year to help further its mission of community engagement. Though this helps alleviate some of the fiscal burden of mounting such an ambitious production, no one involved will be fully compensated — at least financially — for their work. Call it blissfully bohemian or stubbornly passionate. Luckily for DFC, you don’t become an artist for the money.

“Everyone that’s involved is so artistically committed to the project, we don’t need to be funded necessarily with money,” Single-Dain says. “We have a really good organization taking care of people. We make sure everyone is fed. And, it’s a fun thing to be a part of so we don’t always feel the need to be paid.”

Alastair Knowles, a Hard Times cast member, agrees. A University of British Columbia commerce graduate, Knowles originally got involved in theatre and dance as an antidote to his staid academic pursuits. Since then, he says, the DFC has become a huge part of his social life.

“Going to rehearsal is like hanging out with my friends,” Knowles says. “And, it offers opportunities to workshop in a lot of different skills that I don’t get on my own. Before Dusty Flowerpot, I hadn’t really done any choreographed dancing, or worked with puppets or shadow-play, and those are all staples in our rehearsals. Our schedule is like, Monday night, play with puppets. Sunday, shadow jam!”

That atmosphere of joining in, building skills, and mentoring is a relatively open-door process. Everyone is welcome. David MacMurray Smith, a longtime professional artist and Hard Times cast member, has experienced firsthand the challenges facing the theatre community. He believes the future of live theatre belongs to the DFC and the “serious amateur”: independent companies that love theatre and bring it to the masses without attempting to commodify it.

“At a root level, Dusty Flowerpot has done very well to bring people in and involve them,” MacMurray Smith says. “Their approach is a process that includes the whole involvement of community from its creative beginning to those who buy tickets.”

MacMurray Smith points out that though aspects of the DFC’s operation are unique to the collective, their challenges and inspirations are similar to other independent arts groups.

“Young professionals do want to be compensated a little bit more, but they’re also in this teeter-totter of the balance between recognizing that they want to do their art and realizing they have to create their own vehicle for doing that,” he says. “That’s the way it is for a lot of companies now, as evidenced by the Electric Company and Radux Theatre. They have to create their own work.”

That’s what Hard Times is all about. Set in the early 1930s at an epic dance competition, its themes tackle identity, community, and the power of art during times of struggle — a purposeful parallel of our society’s current challenges. And, perhaps on a subconscious level, it’s also the story of DFC: the desire to tell its tale on its own terms — wildly inventive, puppet-wielding, marionette-dancing terms, of course.

Hard Times Hit Parade runs Thursday-Sunday, Feb. 24-Mar. 18 at Russian Hall (600 Campbell), 8pm. Tickets $20 in advance from Highlife, Zulu and DustyFlowerPot.org. $25 at the door.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Mette Bach 'Off the Highway'

My interview with local author Mette Bach appears in WE this week.

Author Mette Bach’s debut work, Off the Highway (inset), is an exploration of North Delta’s history and her own suburban growing pains.

Author Mette Bach’s debut work, Off the Highway (inset), is an exploration of North Delta’s history and her own suburban growing pains.

Credit: supplied


Local author proves you can go home again

Growing up, Mette Bach felt more like a casualty of 1980s Lower Mainland suburbia than a would-be survivor of it. Immigrating from Denmark as a child, she landed in North Delta, then a small community known for a dump and a bog. She also arrived in time to witness her new hometown’s troubling transformation into a land ripe for big-box development, and hobbled by culture clashes and racism. North Delta became a haven for some, but a hell for others.

For most of her life, Bach (a former WE contributor) counted herself among the latter group. But at age 33, and with the gift of hindsight, she’s mined her past for buried treasure. Off the Highway (to be released next month as part of New Star Books’ B.C.-focused Transmontanus series) is Bach’s first book. A work of creative non-fiction that’s part memoir and part historical text, it boasts a surprising revelation: North Delta is just as deeply layered as its beloved Burns Bog.

What prompted you to write Off the Highway?
Bach: A few years ago, I started to understand the fight to preserve Burns Bog, and how crucial it is for all of us in terms of biodiversity, that what’s left of the bog gets to remain conservation land. When I heard about the construction of the South Fraser Perimeter Road and that it would run alongside Burns Bog, I needed to go back to my old stomping grounds to try to make sense of what was happening in the place where I grew up.

The book feels like equal parts memoir and social anthropology. Why approach the history of your community from that angle?
I’m not a developer, investor, or planner, so I’m not in a position to stop more development from happening. But what I have is a voice. I’m capable of saying, “I object,” and looking at the history of development and urban sprawl in order to make a point. In a way, it’s kind of my folk song. I don’t sing or play acoustic guitar, so I had to write a book.

Were you nervous about how your family and friends would react to the personal anecdotes?
Of course. It’s terrifying to risk that people I love might not be happy with the way I portrayed them. I told everyone about the book and nobody asked to see a draft before publication. I’m really honoured that the folks in my life trusted me to tell the story as I saw it.

Has Vancouver’s close proximity to North Delta had a negative or positive impact on its development?
North Delta is its own unique place, but it’s also intimately connected to all other suburbs in North America, in that there’s a kind of placelessness about it. Cities get to have identities. Suburbs are meant to play second fiddle. In North Delta’s case, that meant being the place where Vancouver dumped its trash and filtered its sewage.

The book touches on so many things that are intrinsic to the Lower Mainland, yet totally universal: development, multiculturalism, suburban alienation. What do you hope your readers take away?
My main hope is that people enjoy the stories and feel inspired by the good things that are happening. The Burns Bog Conservation Society, for example, is fighting a good fight. I was really interested in showing the resistance movements in North Delta because of the common attitude that many people have in the big city — that people in suburbs aren’t critical or informed. I was guilty of that attitude myself for many years, but it’s foolish and totally untrue.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

The Pack a.d. feature

My more in-depth feature on The Pack A.D. is in this month's Exclaim!


The Challenges of Pack A.D.
By Andrea Warner

"This is the first album we've recorded that we're kind of happy with, which is either a good thing, or could be the worst sign ever. We don't know yet." Maya Miller, drummer for the East Vancouver-based garage rock duo the Pack A.D., laughs a little, but she's not entirely joking. We Kill Computers is Miller's and singer-guitarist Becky Black's third record in four years, and the pair have made a name for themselves as badass, blues-loving, rock hellions. Critics, bloggers, and fans wax poetic about the pair's unique ability to harken back to a time decidedly cooler and yank it by the chest hairs into the future.

And, while it's true that in the past the Pack A.D.'s blues-drenched sound evoked a stylized imagery — raw and raucous, new yet familiar — the duo are taking deliberate steps away from what's defined them. Over the phone in a car in the middle of a mall parking lot in London, ON, Miller is candid about the band's mini-evolution.

The whole reason we were even playing in this blues vein, to be honest, is because it came easier," Miller admits. "And over the last few years, we've just started moving away from that naturally." We Kill Computers packs plenty of evidence to support the duo's musical exploration, from the incendiary tribal beats of "B.C. Is On Fire" to the verging-on-indie-pop "Crazy," which has become the album's first radio single. ("It actually has a chorus," Miller points out. "None of our other songs do.") Computers also treads familiar territory, with classic blues and rock numbers like openers "Deer" and "Everyone Looks Like Everyone," but even these bear signs of blurring the lines between soundscapes.

Computers itself is a little bit strange to me, because it touches on a few different genres and sounds so separate from each other," Miller says. "If you put 'BC Is On Fire' next to 'Big Anvil' or 'Cobra Matte' it's a little bit strange, like it's kind of a different band, but I like it."

Computers also indicates a bit of a shift in the way the Pack A.D. do business. After essentially shrugging themselves into existence — their reactions to being asked to play their first show and record their first album, Tintype, two months later: "Sure, why not?" — Miller acknowledges it has been a massive learning curve.

We spent maybe $200 on Tintype," Miller laughs. "And it's totally rough and in our opinion, kind of awful, but apparently has an awful sort-of charm to it, so that's fine. We recorded it and we didn't know what we were doing and that's why it's 17 songs long. We were like, well, we don't know if we'll ever record another album, so let's just put every song on it even if we don't like it."

Now, just four years later, they've recently hired a manager, Aaron Schubert, who helped resurrect Vancouver's Biltmore Cabaret, whom they initiated trial-by-fire style during one of their five South by Southwest shows in March.

"One of the shows was a terrible technical disaster and nothing was working, and we did manage to play some songs, but we were also very drunk," Miller recalls, almost giddily. "For the first time ever after a show we got wrist-slapped to lay off the booze, which we found secretly kind of awesome, because we don't actually get drunk that often. And we have a reputation of being drinkers, but we're not really drinkers, so the one time we get wasted and he has to see it, and we're the bad kids now. It was kind of gratifying to have someone play dad."

Even with a dad figure to keep them in line, the pair's reputation as "bad kids" has been years in the making. Miller admits that when she and Black scrap, it's mostly the silent treatment for a couple hours until one of them cracks the other up, usually by reading something stupid on a signpost. When prompted to reveal their most badass behaviour, Miller stumbles momentarily, first revealing they played Magic the Gathering in the bar before a show recently, then recalling when Black drunkenly punched a fan in the face during a gig, before confessing that she herself likes to drink wine and take sleeping pills when flying.

But, even with all that under their belts, it might just be that the most badass things about them are their reproductive systems. Because they like to play loud music, rock out, and sometimes start shit in mosh pits, plenty of concert-goers and reviewers have seemed stupidly stunned that Miller and Black are — gasp— girls.

They write that we play like we have 'balls' like it's some sort of credit," Miller sighs audibly. "At first we weren't really aware of [the sexism], but we've noticed it a lot more lately. Or people coming up to us after shows and saying, 'Wow, you really rock out for girls!' And, what does that have to do with it? Our approach is that we're human beings playing music and we play it the way we like to play. Maybe it seems strange to play so loud. I guess women are supposed to just be sluts. I say sluts, because women are often marketed in a Shakira fashion. And I think it's really unfortunate, because it just makes the music irrelevant, and it's a time-old tradition of how women are supposed to sell themselves based on how they look instead of what they're doing, and I think it's really shitty and I think it comes up a lot. I wish it didn't, and it's nice when it doesn't. Ughh, you know neither of us is on stage thinking, 'I am a woman playing music.' If you think about it, it's like, you're not walking to a bus stop thinking I am a woman walking to a bus stop, or I am a woman going to dinner. Men don't think about it like that. And it's frustrating, because we're not just a duo, we're a lady duo. It's weird. And hopefully it will start going away at some point."

The Pack a.d.

My news story on The Pack a.d. appears online at Exclaim.ca

The Pack A.D. Lose Their Blues for We Kill Computers
4/27/2010 By Andrea Warner

Vancouver garage-rock duo the Pack A.D.’s third full-length album, We Kill Computers, officially hits stores today (April 27) via Mint Records, and longtime fans need to steel themselves for something different than the blues-rock foundation on which drummer Maya Miller and guitarist/singer Becky Black built their sound.

"The whole reason we were even playing in this blues vein, to be honest, is because it came easier," Miller explained in a recent Exclaim! interview. "And over the last few years, we've just started moving away from that naturally... For this album, we've definitely gone in a more rock, indie, almost verging on pop. And we played a lot of shows with blues bands and punk-blues bands, and it all sort of sounded the same, and even though we weren't necessarily sure what we wanted to sound like, it just kind of evolved into this album. Which, is the first album we've recorded that we're kind of happy with, which is either a good thing, or could be the worst sign ever. We don't know yet."

It's easy to visualize Miller's casual shrug as she anticipates the possible fallout of the band's new direction. But the laid-back attitude is perfectly in step with the Pack A.D.'s origins, from their first show playing a friend's backyard barbeque to making their first record for $200 in just a couple weeks. Now, four years later, their sound may have evolved, but much of their existence is still just taking advantage of what lands in their laps, such as the record's matter-of-fact title, inspired by Miller and Black's common hatred: social networking.

"We Kill Computers is kind of a fuck-you [to the digital age]," Miller laughs. "Because we're together all the time, which is a little psychotic, we have a couple moods we operate in. One is we have a few conversations we love rehashing, right down to saying the exact same things again and again, and we never get bored of it. And one of our favourite rehashings is about social networking online and how we hate it. It just feels like eventually years from now we'll live a place where no one knows how to interact with each other in person.

“We got chastised the other day because don't have a Twitter account, and someone was like, 'Well don't you wanna connect with your fans?' And we're like, 'Yeah, that's why we have MySpace and we have Facebook.' And we personally answer every single thing, but it's just like, can we have one thing we don't do? Like, I would get Twitter Tourette’s and post things like, 'Becky took a shit today' and does anyone really need that?"

The Pack A.D. kick off a lengthy European tour today, returning for a pile of Canadian dates in late May with the Sadies. You can see all the band’s dates here.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

The Dissemblers

My review of The Dissemblers appears in this week's Westender.

The Dissemblers
By Andrea Warner

Vancouver's well-documented obsession with façade and pretense is the perfect fodder for biting satire. Populated with vividly recognizable and not entirely likeable characters, playwright Jason Bryden's The Dissemblers is a snapshot of early-thirties disaffection and existential crisis, or the moments lived out between Starbucks and stoplights.

Dash (John Murphy), a self-involved artist with an unfortunate obsession with crows, juggles an uptight fiancée, Mi Mi (Medina Hahn), and a sexy flirtation with his tart-tongued gallery manager, Olivia (Sasa Brown). He's also trying to keep his friendship together with best friend Simon (Michael Rinaldi), who's in love with the weirdly spacy Jules (Jennifer Mawhinney). As the relationships unravel amidst a dinner party, bird genocide, and planning a gallery exhibit in China, each character is forced to examine how truth and happiness are interlinked.

Murphy is at his best opposite Brown and the dialogue between Dash and Olivia crackles with clever sexuality. Michael Rinaldi's Simon deservedly gets the majority of the play's laughs as an over-the-top realtor with a faux-hawk: "It's Coquitlam, it's the new inner-city," he says while trying to sell Olivia a condo. Unfortunately, Hahn and Mawhinney are hampered by roles that don't feel fully fleshed out, a crucial area where The Dissemblers doesn't come together. A startling left turn in the script's final 20 minutes feels too abrupt, as if it's part of an entirely different production, or worse, just there for shock value.

A thoroughly Vancouver-centric work (references to local haunts like Keno's, the crow migrations at dusk to Burnaby, the East Side Culture Crawl), The Dissemblers has captured the city's curious cultural tics with just the right amount of rueful affection. Bryden's debut falters at times, but ultimately heralds a welcome new voice in Canadian theatre.

Wednesday, March 5, 2008

Threat From Outer Space

This is my Discorder review of Threat From Outer Space's latest album.

Threat From Outer Space
Bleeding the Dying Elephant
By Andrea Warner

Threat From Outer Space label their live show as a ‘barn burning dance floor graveyard”, and damned if they don’t make the energy transcend the boundaries of stereo speakers, bursting through with the shoulder-bobbing, booty-shaking new album, Bleeding the Dying Elephant.

The five-piece from East Vancouver take elements of rap, hip-hop, and indie pop, and sets them against a grand backdrop of humming, synthesized beats and grand flourishes of trumpet. The sound is familiar to more mainstream fare, but the unique rhythms keep things fresh.

One of the album’s best tracks, “I’ll Get Over”, brings on the funk with searing trumpets while another stand out, “Beginning of the End”, the album’s last track, brings the volume down with a voice that’s almost a dark whisper before flaring into a full-bodied chorus layered with electronics.

“5:40 AM” is exactly the kind of song you want to end the party on with its slow groove and subtly suggestive beat. “Stay Awake” offers up sinfully slow bass and an awesome Q & A chorus to counteract the track’s sing-speak resonance.

Even the lyrically tired “Guesswork”, which offers a recycled groaner like “9/11 was an inside job”, can’t mute the pulsing beats and charming brass that pushes the song from mediocre to good. “Worldwide” attempts to highlight the global intricacies of war, environment, and poverty—it’s pretty far-reaching, and at times feels more like a sermon than a solution or exploration, but at least it’s thought provoking.

TFOS’s socialist approach to making music lists the “key players” in the band, but doesn’t isolate the contributions. It’s just one more oddly confounding detail about this East Side gem.