Well, I’m deaf. Thank you Sloan.

But if this band’s catchy, peppy popitude is the last thing my ears ever take in, I would certainly be left with fond memories. This however, was not a night it was in my best interests to forget my earplugs. As you can see, we have a guest photographer tonight in Kevin Cooper, who is a gentleman you should be very familiar with from our Motion Soundtrack and Salteens coverage. But since my earplugs live in my camera bag, and tonight I was not shooting… well all I had was a pocketful of toilet paper.

So this show was circling around the release of Sloan's shiny new best-of album. It’s about bloody time - this band has had more Canadiana indie-rock-cred singles than just about anyone. They’re cool enough for the radio-rock crowd and unique enough for the hipster set - that’s a delicate balance, and no one does it better than them. So the show, too, was just a huge mass of hit after hit after hit, each one with more insane fanfare than the last. Glancing across the front row of fans (and surely further back, but one can only see so much when packed into a dense, sweaty mass of people with a tower of speakers beside your face that’s literally blowing the hair around on your head) showed jovial, upturned faces bopping and singing loudly along, laughing to every bit of banter exchanged between the band members, and just obviously have an amazing time.

And the banter is classic with these guys. It always is. They’ve been together so long, they just have such a great comfort level up there. Where many shows with bands who take lengthy intersong breaks to yap away about random things would illicit yells of “Play a damn song! Shut up!” from various audience members, here no one butts in. They all listen with a grin as usually-stands-in-the-middle-with-a-bass guy Chris Murphy yammers away good-naturedly about all manner of things. Murphy’s honestly such a riot. Between songs at some point, guitarist Patrick Pentland picked up a different guitar than the one he’d been playing most of the night til then. It was festooned with overlapping stickers and certainly looked like it had been across Canada a few times. Murphy glances over at him and says with wonderment into the microphone, “hey, hey, when did you get that guitar? Is that new?” Deadpan, Pentland shoots back, “Uh, like 18 years go. Who cares?” Much later, Murphy discussed how this was probably the best crowd they’ve ever had in Vancouver, and how, “Gee, it only took us… fifteen years! Fifteen years guys!” His tone was exasperated as he deliberately looked at an imaginary timepiece on his bare wrist. Continuing his antics, he repeatedly attempted to stand up on the monitors but never really managed to keep his balance, and as always, he shrugged at people in the crowd anytime something weird happened, and used the microphones to push up the glasses that were continually sliding down his nose because he just rocks out so much.

A lovely feature about a Sloan show is that you get to focus intently on all of the band members at some point or another. Since they very-evenly share songwriting duties, they switch off lead vocals and even, midset, instruments. Everyone does a little musical-chairs so that Murphy takes up post behind the sparkly blue drum kit, in order for a mini-set within the set of usually-drumming Andrew Scott. The sharp-featured and very serious-looking Scott sports a guitar for this portion - he speaks quietly and sings like an angel, including to the lovely “On The Horizon.” Let us not forget the utterly-adorable Jay Ferguson, who I think always wears white on stage, and who seems to be the first to commandeer the audience clap-alongs. And unlike many shows where people will haphazardly clap until the band onstage stops clapping, at a Sloan show, the crowd enthusiastically lifts their arms into the air and claps with all their might for entire songspans. The sound of the room singing along to some of the super-popular tunes like “Money City Maniacs” and “The Lines You Amend” almost drowned out poor little Sloan on stage. Happily, they stuck mics out towards the crowd and let them have their turn as lead singers. It’s just a big happy family.

They ended off their main set with “The Rest Of My Life,” which just made the whole room explode with sheer mindless joy. I’ve never felt so Canadian! Holy crap, they started the tune up and the whole of the Commodore erupted in so much noise… people went running from all over the room and leaping into the crowd amassed at stagefront, tossing their arms into the air and shouting each line as patriotically as they would our National Anthem. As the band shut down completely for that one glorious line, the volume issuing from the crowd was spectacular and inspiring. One thing I know about the rest of my life / I know that I’ll be living it in Canada! The band looked so proud and so happy.

The encore consisted of special guest-drumming courtesy of the band’s manager Chip Sutherland, and another smattering of grand classics including “Deeper Than Beauty” and “The Other Man.” Sloan does it again. Crap, I love this country. I love the staying power our bands have, and how after so many years they’re still sort of our little secret. That might be selfish, but it’s quite unique to have a band like Sloan that’s pretty well Canadian gospel and be able to clutch them so endearingly to our warm northern hearts while the rest of the world barely pays attention. I mean, who wants to pay attention to bands from a country where everyone lives in igloos and rides moose through our unpaved streets anyhow? We’re so self-contained, we only understand our own cute references to our nation. How cliquey. Bla bla bla, Sloan is so much of a party. If it feels good…

Elsewhere

By Andy Scheffler
Photos : Kevin Cooper
Published : May, 2005.