My friends, we are about to bridge a generation gap. We are about to see how music unites groups of people that would otherwise never find themselves in the same spot. We’ll see how people draw from like influences and see how that common thread weaves itself timelessly through the years. We are about to share a bright, warm, Canadiana torch from your parents to your children, and on and on down the line.

Blue Rodeo kicked off its life in 1984. Almost two decades later, Matt Mays gathered some friends together to become El Torpedo.

Blue Rodeo have ten studio albums under their belt, and even more live records and collections. Matt Mays + El Torpedo have just released their second studio album.

Blue Rodeo have worked their butts off to get one of the most outstanding, respected, and well-known careers in Canadian music. Matt Mays + El Torpedo have worked their butts off to start gaining well-deserved respect in Canadian music.

See where we’re going here? It’s the same sort of thing we’ve seen before. Mays and his band of east coasters are tirelessly recording, and immediately plunking themselves into tour after tour to play in front of as diverse an audience as they possibly can. The way they’re going about this, by the time they get around to doing their own headlining tour in the country, there won’t be a room in any city big enough to hold the throng that’s sure to descend upon them. Their talent and ethics are obviously not going unnoticed by Canada’s rock royalty, and this time around, yes, Blue Rodeo plucked them out of the crowd to bring them along on a massive, couple-month-long swing across the land. They’re quite a fitting pair of bands, though that 20-year gap is felt in certain stylistic things, like Mays’ aggressive guitar-shredding frenzies, and the sheer bloody volume the Torpedos toss forth.

As I stood at the edge of the stage in the opulent but fairly-empty Orpheum theatre while security hung out and checked my credentials just for something to do, an older couple who were sitting in the front row began to talk about the show the night before. The first gig had been sold out - the second night wasn’t, but would prove to be close to that. It’s just that such a scant amount of people showed up early. Anyways, the pair of front-row fans were smiling and chortling as they fielded questions about “that opening band” - saying they were very very good, yes, they were quite surprised to find such young lads playing such good music. Oh but they were very very loud, and that’s when the gentleman proudly pulled out a package of earplugs, stating he was prepared tonight. It was adorable the way they clung to one another, like they were on a date in the young stages of romance, going to catch a show and get a little wild. I couldn’t stop smiling at them, they were so beautifully enthusiastic. And see, here’s why things like a band such as Blue Rodeo plucking a younger band up and taking them along are so effective - no matter what, no matter what people think, even if they think it’s too loud or too wanky or too scruffy or whatever, there’s a good chance that audience is going to respect the opening band anyhow, because an artist they respect hand-picked this newer group to complement them and prime the crowd for the ‘main course.’ They just can’t lose with a set-up like this.

I was distracted then by movement across the stage. I could see members of El Torpedo hovering around the side of the stage, so I moved in to figure out the stage layout. You can’t really tire of looking around the details of the theatre. It was kind of a weird place for this show though - both bands are pretty rootsy, and tossing them into this tall, vast, delicate space was a strange juxtaposition. But the stage decoration was gorgeous. Simple… floor-to-ceiling snow-white drapes, gathered and flowing like a wedding gown, spanning great column-like tubes of fabric filled with brightly colored lights that wouldn’t start showing up till Blue Rodeo’s set. In the meantime, it would be a gentle, dark backdrop for El Torpedo, who presently walked onto the stage under suddenly-dim lights. Their signature eagle blanket was tossed across the covered drum kit of the headliners, and in front of it, the guys were clustered in a seemingly-tiny spot in the middle of a huge stage that’s fit to accommodate massive, elaborate live theatre sets or entire orchestras. Home of the VSO, doncha know. They started up with “Travellin‘”, their kickin’ rock sound reverberating around the room. I realized later on as I sat fifteen rows up from the stage and took my earplugs out for part of a song, how hollow and echoey the sound was in there. I suppose just because the place wasn’t packed yet - but while that might not have been a ‘perfect’ sound, it did give the whole thing a massive auditorium-type feeling which was kinda cool.

As is my staple with these fellows, the third track in was my longtime favourite, “What Are We Gonna Do Come The Month Of September.” And I am pleased as punch to report the claps are back in every verse rather than just once or twice in the whole song. Aiee brilliant. Drummer Tim Baker was going at it so hard during this tune that his Toronto Blue Jays cap kept bopping clear off his head. Songs were made longer by way of those screaming guitar jamouts these guys are so good at. Yet still, the set seemed short. The time between songs was eerie. Dead silent. People waiting to be impressed. As the band members tuned instruments, someone from the back yelled “Play!” Mays perhaps sensed some of this tension and did his best stand-up routine, laughing at his own expense when the jokes didn’t go over well, which in turn got the audience laughing along. “This guitar is called a flying V. I tried to get a flying M but they don’t make them.” Okay, that was pretty corny, but come on, it’s funny too. It’s all in the delivery. He also informed us of a new skateboard purchase and showed off his brand new cassette-tape belt buckle.

The popular “City Of Lakes” showed up here in the set. Later the crowd let out a chuckle when, following some lyrics where he’s talking about the ladies, Mays does a little “woo woooo” thing on his guitar mimicking a wolf whistle. Classy man, totally classy. I was still up in that seat near the back of the room, thinking how lame it was to be sitting down for this set. Stupid theatre. I shoulda rushed the stage. That would have been a riot. Just jump up there and start doing chopsticks over Brad Conrad’s shoulders as he does that church organy thing. The band ended off with “Cocaine Cowgirl,” another tune they’ve been playing for a while live, and made it to the new recording. It’s a strong, loud, evil-sounding track . They had a false start on this one though. Guitars started up, then everything kinda thumped to a halt, Baker counted them in, and they went into this quick little clap along and intro before digging into the meat of the song. I don’t remember them ever doing that before. Anyhow, they got a really warm reception from the crowd, and as they ended off the set, remaining on stage to move their gear, people streamed to the front to say hi and tell them they rocked and all that jazz. They had a bit of a receiving line going on in the lobby shortly afterwards as well. I love seeing this happen.

Back into the buzzing theatre to wait for Blue Rodeo to hit the stage. Like many other mainstay Canadian bands, I took way way too long to see this band play. I have, however, seen Jim Cuddy’s solo stuff before, up in Mt. Washington a few years ago. The room was much more full than it had been before, and as soon as the band stepped onto the stage, you could feel the reciprocal warmth between them and the crowd. It was a calm and long set, full of good cheer and soft songs and twang, and for the most part, the audience sat in cushy velvet seats smiling and nodding along. Some people moved up to the front to dance, eventually. Between songs, the compatible and entertaining pair of front men, Jim Cuddy and Greg Keelor told stories about where the songs came from. They were usually told with straight faces, but the audience received the tales with knowing laughter. Keelor talked about penning the song “English Bay” as he sat alone in the Sylvia Hotel, overlooking that body of water in Vancouver, pondering some girl he’d fallen in love with, who unfortunately already had a boyfriend. And he’d gone to a gallery showing of the boyfriend’s in town, and found the subject matter of every piece was nudes of this girl he’d fallen in love with. Tortured, despondent, he went back to the hotel and wrote that very song.

Any lulls between songs were filled with audience members shouting things, screaming wildly and telling them that they’re hot (aren’t we over this yet??), with Cuddy calmly responding, “Now that… is a sexy voice.” Really, such dry and quick humour. I guess they’ve fielded these sorts of things juuuust a few times before, so they know how to deal with it. Keelor and Cuddy did accept red roses from one girl, and Keelor tucked the stem of his under the strings of his guitar, promptly putting the thing out of tune. But the banter highlight was definitely when someone in the room yelled “Where’s Bazil!?” - referring to bassist Bazil Donovan. The rest of the crowd laughed oddly at this, and Cuddy, looking mildy surprised, repeated the question back into the microphone. “Where’s Bazil? As far as I know, he’s standing right behind me, but I don’t know, I haven’t turned around in a while…” Cuddy twisted himself at the waist to glance behind him at Donovan, who was indeed standing right there where he had been for the entire show. Cuddy started a bit as though shocked to see him, then turned back to the mic and looked into the crowd. “Yep, he’s right there sir.” Executed beautifully! The show went on and on and on. And on. It was very long, which is no wonder, considering the amount of material they have to work with.

One delightful thing was when Keelor stepped alone to the edge of the immense stage, darkness behind him, just with his acoustic guitar, and began singing “Hasn’t Hit Me Yet.” The audience joined in and as Keelor dropped into silence, he grinned hugely as he walked back and forth and listened to the people in front of him carry the melody on and on without the slightest falter. The band came back in soon enough, happily taking the song to its end. As the band left the stage for the night, everyone rose to their feet and continued clapping and cheering until they came back out. And then promptly sat back down again. For part of the encore, the band proudly re-introduced Matt Mays to the room and brought him out on stage to join them on a couple songs. Brad Conrad also came out to join in the fun. As Mays ripped the guitar to shreds on the stage to take the song out, hefting it in the air, making the thing squeal ferociously, the two guys sitting beside me (my entire row had been empty during the Torpedos’ set, and now there was not an open seat in sight) sat with a stunned look on their faces. One of them leaned over to the other and asked in a bewildered tone, “Who is that guy?” See, they were hooked and they didn’t even know why. I just about elbowed the dude to tell him who it was and give him some motherly advice about catching opening bands because they’ll often surprise you with their inherent nature of ‘having something to prove.' But as I looked at him I realized how much he was getting into the whole thing, so I left him to his concert-going pleasure… and the next time I looked over there as the charge for the coat check began before the last notes from the stage were finished ringing through the room, they were gone.

The fine hospitality shone on downstairs shortly as the band hosted a meet + greet/schmoozefest in what appeared to be the VSO’s dressing room (judging by the cello-sized lockers), supplying enough in the way of refreshments that, even though the place was crammed with random fans, old friends, gigantic NHL hockey players, and multitudes of band members from a couple different generations of radio-Canrock waves, it took until well after midnight to finally run out of cold beers. At that point, security was stepping in, people took off (no beer? I’m outta here) and the entire party moved across the street and down a block to a tiny posh bar that spilled its large new patron contingent noisily onto the sidewalk outside its front door. Who knows how long that went on for. But I know I didn’t make it home until after four in the morning. So consider the connection, and that we are certainly moving the music lovers from one group to another and spawning new careers, new escapes, new moments, new fans. We’ll come back to this 20 years from now and see who El Torpedo has on tour with them - bring your earplugs.

Elsewhere

By Andy Scheffler
Photos : Andy Scheffler
Published : April, 2005.