If you’re completely unaware of Metric’s journey through Canadian consciousness, you have clearly been living under a rock for the last few years. So get up, come out, and take a glance. A lot has changed in the interim between the last time I saw Metric, and now. Additionally, show opener Panurge has gone through a huge metamorphosis since they first rolled onto the scene in Vancouver. Not to mention, a fine young (weird) band called Unicorns, a quirky trio of pink and neon green, has literally erupted into a massive multi-instrument fandango called Islands. From where I was standing, I didn’t get an adequate headcount on the band, but easily eight people, possibly more, with everything from clarinets to trumpets and back again bipped and bopped their way through a 40-minute, white-suited set. The quirk is still there, only it’s oh-so-much-more now. At the end of the set, all band members calmly and warmly stood slowly waving one hand overhead to bid us farewell. One tall gent behind me elbowed me brusquely in the side and exclaimed in my ear with beer-soaked breath, “You gotta wave!” Such was the ensuing enthusiasm at this gig.

Now as for Metric, I admit I generally rolled my eyes at the prospect of this show, and not in any way because I think Metric is a crappy band or I don’t like the music or I don’t understand the phenomenon, genre and popularity. In fact, I rather enjoy the tunes for their simple 21st century dance-appeal and energy, and I find Emily Haines to have been a refreshing character in the world of woman rockers who are too often boring or contrived. The first show of theirs I saw was delightful - energetic, Haines making like a robot all over the stage with jerky movements and just generally being more creepy than outright sexy. Her wee skirts and wildly-flipping blonde locks did the sex-appeal work for her, effectively I might add. No, the issue that arose from Metric to me was their steadfast unfaltering showmanship. Every show was the same, and I don’t just mean, with only one album under their belts, the songs were the same every show. That’s to be expected. But nothing seemed spontaneous - including Haines wearing the exact same outfit for every show I saw - not a costume really, just a plain black shirt and skirt and boots, with a word written on her arm (the only thing that changed from show to show was exactly what word was written there). So, I was waiting to see the same thing yet again, a thing that would be great fun at show #1, but old hat by show #6.

Well, I had a pleasant surprise in store. The show was different. A lot different. And not simply in terms of songs and Haines wearing a snazzy white 1980’s-classy-mother-on-a-cruise ship shorts suit and pumps, but so too was the set a completely different breed of energized. No longer was this merely the Emily Haines show (although it mostly was, but that’s neither uncommon nor unwarranted considering what a vixeny showpiece she is), but instead James Shaw and Joshua Winstead were wildly more dramatic band members and brought the whole live experience up a number of notches. Regretfully, drummer Joules Scott-Key was difficult to see behind banks of keyboards, the white-clad and shiny Haines, and through the general dim cool lights that populated the stage. On that note, the new forest of light stands was another key element of the upstep in the show itself (thanks, Imac!).

Haines’ movements onstage continue to be quite queer and robotic in nature, all fluttering fingers and jagged kicks and exaggerated head flings, but there’s so much more going on than previously. Leaps, tambourines, a lot more keyboard work, and a lot of crowd interaction prevailed. Through this, the longer the show went on, the more chaotic the audience got. From my vantage point on the stage-right ramp, all I could see was a blanket of heads and arms moving up and down as a unit, and the stagefront barricade in danger of collapse from the crazily-bouncing Commodore floor. This escalated beyond control during “Love Is A Place” very close to the end of the show. During this song, bassist Winstead slowly deconstructed himself, crumpling to the floor, fiddling away with his pedals, saucily undoing his tie and couple shirt buttons, then falling to his back and losing his mind for a moment. Haines was still hopping around the stage, removing and putting back on one of her white pumps. They carried into a massive, extended, jamlike version of “Dead Disco” that honestly went on for ages as Haines slinked across the stagefront huskily chanting dead disco dead disco over and over again. She stopped in the middle of the stage and addressed the crowd for a while about whether this was really where they wanted to be right now, and how the band can do whatever they want. With that, she pulled back briefly and very-unexpectedly launched herself straight into the middle of the front few rows of the crowd. I can’t imagine any boy in that section of the crowd had any problem with getting a faceful or copping a feel of any part of Haines, be it bottom or ankle, as they passed her around for a share (how nice, they use what they learned in kindergarten) before moving her obediently back towards the stage. Ah, to mesmerize the hearts and minds of men - such power. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't an eensy bit envious of that command she has as a devastating alpha female. When she leapt over into the crowd, every security guard in the room it seems suddenly descended on the media pit to whack rowdy fans and get the girl back to her place on stage. As they pulled her from the clinging hands of rabid fans, her thin white v-neck top was straining dangerously close to scandal, and miraculously, she didn’t lose either of her shoes while on top of the audience. Now that’s talent. I've lost well-tied-on sneakers by just standing at the head of a mosh pit before.

However, that brief moment of preoccupied security guards combined with a “hey I can do that too” mimicry caused one guy, who had been very calmly standing right beside me with a friend of his for most of the show (with thick European accents they had asked me about my media pass and kindly offered their spots up for me, though I was certainly no longer shooting by this time) very casually stepped past me, grabbed one of the band’s light stands and steadied himself on a speaker, and hoisted himself onto the stage. The guards in the pit were still trying to bat away the hands of fans who didn’t want to give Haines up yet, and the one small fellow (whatever, he’s probably a martial arts master or something) who was stationed at this side of the media pit was caught completely off guard. He spun around with a ‘…hey!’ before realizing there wasn’t much he could do. The guy just took off his hat and triumphantly waved it in the air while bouncing around a little bit, and then he dashed towards the edge of the stage and also launched himself into the audience. Of course, he was at the slightly-sparser stage right, and no one was paying much attention to him, so people more or less stepped aside and watched him as he disappeared completely to the floor somewhere in the middle of the area. Ouch. Moments later, someone on the left side of the stage attempted the same thing, but I did not see what his fate was.

By this time Haines had settled back in and was lying on her back on the stage, reaching out, rolling about, legs in the air. Shortly thereafter, that was it. With big smiles and a flourishing bow, the band left the stage for the night, and left me impressed. So here’s to hoping we get another reinvention next time they come by and play three shows in two days. Oh so modern.

Elsewhere

By Andy Scheffler
Photos : Andy Scheffler
Published : April, 2006.