If it ain't Broke...

Whether it’s down to an inferiority complex I’m not sure, but Canadian bands seem to have a thing about size - Arcade Fire, who take to the stage with a cornucopia of members and even more instruments, being the obvious example. Somewhat more of a cult concern, though similarly never knowingly understaffed, are Broken Social Scene, who I’ve now seen twice within the space of a week.

Whilst AF have developed an epic sound geared towards the mainstream, and have at the very least become as big a cult band as one can possibly be without “crossing over”, BSS tread a more esoteric path - capable of emitting an almighty noise for sure, but equally likely to break into bouts of noodling interspered with shoegazey vocals.

On record this doesn’t always hit the mark for me, their previous albums being a bit too rambling for my tastes. In the flesh, though, you get a much more engaging experience, and after their gig at Heaven on Monday night (which is normally what I imagine must be a fantastically sweaty gay club) coupled with their most accessible album yet in Forgiveness Rock Record, I am officially a convert.

FRR for the most part retains their more adventurous side whilst forming more coherent tunes and even provides one or two killer hooks, particularly on Meet Me in the Basement. On stage, de facto band leader Kevin Drew is an energizing presence, meanwhile chief lieutanant Brendan Canning provides some wry asides and reminded me of the young Mike Mills, all good in my book. As the aforementioned ... Basement closes their current set in crescendoes of guitars, you can’t help being swept along with them.

Interestingly, when I saw them last Thursday they were supporting Pavement at Brixton, who were very much the main attraction. Pavement are one of those bands, along with the Pixies and even Nirvana to some degree, who are regarded as seminal alternative nineties figures and yet passed me by at the time because I came into music comparatively late, and who I’ve somehow never quite caught up with. Therefore I was curious in the build-up rather than clamorous, and after their hefty two-hour set which contained about 5 songs which I was properly familiar with I was frankly rather let down.

A band whose stock in trade is slightly off-the-wall 3 or 4-minute poppy rock songs doesn’t lend itself very well to lengthy sets. To be fair, they neither sounded bad nor like they were contractually obliged to be there, and if I’d been a fan who’d not seen them for years, desperate to release all my pent-up nostalgia then I’d have gone home happier. Clearly the lesson here is never go to a reunion gig if, in sports terms, you’re only a neutral.

As a quick round-up: I’d been eagerly awaiting a couple of recent albums. The National continue to develop into one of the great current bands. Although a return to the punchy, hookier songs of Alligator - my favourite album of theirs by some distance - appears unlikely, High Violet sees them buff up the subtle, melancholic sound of Boxer into something ever more stately and, in its own way, assured. I’m not quite so sure that Matt Berninger’s low baritone won’t hinder them from making the big commercial breakthrough that the media seem to think High Violet represents - and after seeing their performance on Jools Holland they don’t appear all that bothered about showmanship either.

Which is something that definitely can’t be said of the Hold Steady, still one of the best live bands I’ve witnessed and, until now, a darn fine albums band to boot. Unfortunately the loss of extravagantly-moustachiod keyboardist Franz Nicolay seems to have affected them more than they care to admit, for Heaven is Whenever is a curiously limp affair, with neither the tunes nor Craig Finn’s lyrics and vocals ever really getting out of second gear. Suddenly the prospect of missing out on their upcoming London gig doesn’t seem quite so big a deal.

I’d expect High Violet to be up there contesting for my favourite album of the year come the end 2010 - particularly when you consider that I don’t actually listen to all that many new albums in any given 12 months - though I’m hoping Arcade Fire will have something to say about that in the Autumn. The other main contender at this stage is Gorillaz’s Plastic Beach, wherein in amongst the endless guest spots and cartoon gimickry lurk some superb Damon Albarn songs. Blur who?