Billy bragg concert good, if that's your kind of thing
Reporter ignores show, gets drunk, talks futons
CHELSE MCKEE
PHOTO: DEREK LAW
Entering the Ramada Conference Centre, Jemima Puddleduck (her name changed for protection) and I felt the arrhythmic pulse of the room blend with the overwhelming smell of alcohol. Jemima chugged back her cranberry tonic before we settled into our seats.
Despite the noise coming from the crowd, it all felt relatively subdued. I didn’t know it at that moment, but it would foreshadow the rest of the evening.
Suddenly, the lights shut off and the only focal view was the stage. Four amps piled on the minimalist stage against a red curtain backdrop. I couldn’t help but get the impression that I was about to witness a grungy standup act.
Th e MC for the evening walked on stage, ready to give up the grim news. Seth Lakeman, the scheduled opening act, wasn’t able to make the show. He continued to introduce the replacement act, Geoff Burner. Burner, a bald man strongly resembling Rob Corddry, walked on the stage with his fl ashy accordion around his neck. A few scales down from the Arrogant Worms in terms of comedic lyrics, he made smooth melodies with subjects ranging from sleeping with bridesmaids to playing cards with Corb Lund.
However, my view was slightly skewed by the sound technician’s curly heavy-metal hair. It was quite reminiscent of the Death Cab for Cutie concert when my drunken ex-supervisor kept hitting on my mom and blocking my view of Ben Gibbard.
Near the end of his set, Jemima had yet to be impressed and I had yet to be convinced that a single accordion could justify a solo act.
When his performance ended, there was a long intermission where the drunken masses began social screaming fi ts. Jemima and I took the quieter route by gossiping. However, after hearing about her family’s futon, which I’ve spent many a nights on, being used as the sex bed for all her siblings and their signifi cant others, I wished I had a stronger cranberry tonic myself.
Finally, after a painfully long intermission, Billy Bragg began. My first thought was how old Bragg looked in comparison to his poster. I think I was expecting a young spitfi re with a guitar and I got that doctor from M.A.S.H. with a sense of humor.
Billy Bragg’s talks about YouTube, football, and hamsters were hilarious and by far the best part of the evening. He chatted about his theory that Winnipeg was invented by a couple of “the Lord of the Ring guys” who had visions of fl at lands and Shoppers Drug Marts.
As a virgin to Bragg, I wasn’t too sure what to expect of his music. Listening to him, I got the impression of a young teen spilling his heart out all over his guitar. Personally I wish he had chosen an acoustic over his electric guitar but what’s done is done. As well, he premiered a new song to Winnipeg, “Farm Boy,” hoping that he played it in the right key.
Unfortunately, even that wasn’t enough to save the performance for me. Jemima had long since left me and fallen asleep, while I debated with my integrity whether to stay or ditch out early.
Finally, I came to a decision and we left early. I heard from one of my profs that he gave numerous encores and was absolutely fabulous. So my fi nal opinion of the evening was that although it wasn’t my cup of tea, it was good show all in all, for the fans of Billy Bragg. However, all I know for sure is that by the end of the night, I was sipping the best paralyzers I’ve ever had and talking about sex futons all over again.
