by luddite lady on 20 Jun 2010 06:55
More of HHS in Toronto.
Jordan began a tongue in cheek sing along with the audience. The lyrics were a nonsensical “wah-wah” sound set to an impossible to follow melody. Sitting (damn knee) near the front of the room, I decided to play along and joined in on the wah-wahing. I’m pretty sure I was the only one in the audience doing this. Jordan saw me and, to note my effort, pointed (It must be hereditary.) and said something like, “That’s the way to do.” A guy standing very near to me literally jumped away so nobody would think Jordan was referring to him. But I was quite pleased with myself. I think I may be the first person ever to elicit intergenerational Copeland performance pointing. And I didn’t even need a flag to get the junior point.
HHS definitely is not everyone’s cup of tea, but I find their music so different that I’m willing to give it a chance to grow on me. However, that requires a degree of commitment. And at this festival, with six or seven other venues a stone’s throw from the El Mo, most concert goers are just not that committed. It would be like going to an all you can eat buffet and piling your plate with one menu choice. Jordan gave the audience a rapid fire explanation of what bang bang music, as they call it, is all about. He spoke so fast that he made Stewart sound like Eyore. In fact, I didn’t understand a word of what he said. I couldn’t even tell if I was supposed to. At that point, a few more people drifted away, likely to seek out a band that was less of a challenge.
After the set, we were hoping to say hello to Vaughn, but he was nowhere to be seen. We saw Jordan and Betamax wandering about the club though, and when they went outside for air, Grace and I followed suit. On the relatively quiet sidewalk out front of the club, I struck up a conversation with Jordan. He really seems to be a gracious, personable young man. Based on our brief encounter, I can see why Stewart likes to go on about Jordan’s people skills. He appears to have them in spades without an ounce of schmooziness. I was wearing the silk screened Certifiable T-shirt that my daughter had made me for Christmas. Jordan noticed it almost right away and said, “I suppose this means you know who I am.” He said this without being pretentious. Rather, he meant it in a kind of oops-my-secret’s-out kind of way. I explained that I knew of both him and Vaughn due to “that little website”. Recognizing Grace and me as Nutters, Jordan welcomed us warmly and led us back into the club to look for Vaughn and to get us a couple of HHS CDs. He admitted that they were giving all the CDs away for free because they had received them for nothing due to a screw up; the songs on the cover are listed in reverse order. We then met Vaughn, another warm individual, and listened for a while to the next group who had already started playing by this point. They were a local band who has created a fair bit of buzz, and they seemed quite good. The place began to fill up again. But it was getting quite late for us non-musician types, so Grace and I said our goodbye’s and wished them all a safe flight back to England. This was the last of their North American dates and they are flying home either Saturday or Sunday. (The noise of the club made it hard for me to hear clearly.)
Vaughn, if you are reading this, please convey my apologies to Max for not introducing myself. He was mostly preoccupied with those Bubble Girls after the gig. (Gee, that’s a whole other story, huh?) Also, please tell Jordan that I wanted him to know that I really enjoyed “Better Than Therapy” in case he didn’t get that implied message from my T-shirt. I hope to have a chance to see you guys perform again some time soon.
In Dallas, the only game that really mattered was in the word gamelan.