Well now that’s more like it. Some of you may remember the sorta lukewarm opinion I had of the High Dials a year ago in town. Well, hot damn, am I ever glad I had a chance to see them again, especially in the same room so it’s a bit of a control experiment. They were amazing!! But we’ll get into that later…

The night began somewhere in the neighbourhood of 9:30, as I stood on the corner of Robson and Seymour. From somewhere west came a pair of the Transmitors, both carrying what were evidently brand new coffees. As they passed me, suddenly there was a big ruckus and some hacking… In a moment of weakness, one of them had grabbed the salt instead of the sugar somehow.

A short time later, the early show was still clearing out of the Media Club, so the pile of spectators for the High Dials gig were all hovering around on the sidewalk in front of the club for a while till they were allowed in. I left and came back twenty minutes later, took a seat, and waited around. I knew nothing of Costa Verde, the opening act, but they certainly looked like a good time. From the casual be-toqued-ness of the drummer, to the your-favourite-uncle-y sweater vest of the bassist, to the swank suit of the singer, they had a mix of physical styles that made it challenging to predict what they might be like. Well, here’s the answer folks : they were like fun. It was cute dinnertime music, something that would play on a stage in a supper club while ladies in shimmery dresses and men in tails would swirl around the dance floor to. I feel like there might have been a bit of a hole in it all live - maybe it needed another guitar or something in there?? It barely mattered though, especially with Sean Macpherson’s fabulous dance moves.

Speaking of dancing, the drunken awkward dance party started uncharacteristically early with a couple of folks (well mostly one guy and whoever he could drag out to the floor) who had the whole place to themselves this early on, just bopping away, completely not knowing what they were doing, but hey, they were having fun and filling the space. Excellent.

The great shuffle occurred then, and soon enough, a large banner was unfurled reading “We Are The Transmitors.” They most certainly are. Taking bits and pieces of some of Vancouver’s best classic punk bands, the Transmitors had a healthy history before they even started. Putting all that together onto one stage made for one heckuva lot of spectacular suit-laden, jittery energy. More people crowded towards stage front and suddenly I found myself right in the middle of the aforementioned dance party. It was a pretty friendly atmosphere - everyone became fast friends, and on stage, the Transmitors kept proclaiming how hot it was up there and how they were having trouble tuning instruments. There was a lot of flying sweat and leaping in the air, vocals swapping around between the members, drums like mad… Awesome, awesome band I’d highly recommend anyone go and see.

Another lull - most people went outside. As the High Dials began, the audience trickled towards the stagefront until, a few songs in, there was barely room to move. And everything got so rambunctious. On the stage, in front of the stage, there were bodies flying everywhere. Things really got going when a couple of the guys from Costa Verde started waltzing about during a slower number partway through the set. Beside them, a couple of girls were doing the same thing, and suddenly they were backing their butts into each other suggestively… after that, everything went haywire. People were dancing up a storm, and with great reason!

The High Dials kicked ass. Perhaps the addition of a keyboard player helped, maybe they were just in a better mood, I don’t know. But no matter what the magic formula was, they were on top. They were selling copies of their new album, and were looking at this show as a bit of an album launch. So maybe they were excited about that and giving it their all. Maybe the new material just steps it up a notch or forty. Song highlight? "Holy Ground." I am weak for the mighty E-Bow of course, but beyond that, it’s just a great, catchy footstomper. Singer Trevor Anderson kept his hands in the air clapping from time to time, but certain members of the audience initiated the same without the urging of anyone on stage. When does that happen? Everyone was just having such a great time. I got stomped on, shoved into, lifted clear off the ground, I didn’t care. It was all part of insane vibe going on. Ending the set, the band announced they were going to play one last song. Bassist Rishi Dhir brought out the sitar, settled on a blanket on the floor, the other guys swapped spots around, and then they played an ebbing and flowing instrumental jamout for… I don’t even know how long. A long long time. This got the crowd into even more of a frenzy. More of a trippy loving dance kind of thing. Whenever you felt like the song was winding down, it would drop to a single instrument, and then kick back up again, rolling and reeling. Beautiful. It took up the space of three or four songs, and didn’t get boring even for a moment.

Again, I couldn’t be more pleased to have had a second chance to see them. Never one to miss…

Elsewhere

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