Source: The Edmonton Journal, January 24, 1998

OUR LADY PEACE MEASURES UP

Now that they're suddenly Canada's biggest band, Our Lady Peace has some mighty big shoes to fill.
And until their solid, first-rate show Friday night at the Edmonton Coliseum, I didn't think they could manage it.
I've always pegged the Toronto group as a pretty decent club act that grew too big for its collective britches-four fellas who had just the slightest hint of poser to them, a band neither edgy nor dynamic enough to make much of a lasting live mark.
But, as 12,000 kids who absolutely lost it Friday night will testify, OLP has evolved into a larger-than-life act capable of pounding out the arena-size thrills.
That's not saying OLP's better than The Tragically Hip, the previous holder of Canada's biggest band crown, or even the country's Top 5.
They're not.
Still, there's no disputing the power of Friday's show. It had all the big, dramatic gestures you'd want-the cathartic sing-alongs, the long, applause-soaked pauses, the blaring din.
And it had Raine Maida, maybe the country's second-most mesmerizing frontman behind the Hip's Gord Downie.
Maida gets in this weird zone up there. He wrings the microphone like he's trying to sap out of it, staggers around like a drunkard and pounds his chest with a free hand. Sometimes all three at once.
With huge, flashing teeth you could see from the blue-line, Maida filled the Coliseum with his monstrous voice. He made the twin chorouses of OLP's biggest hit Superman's Dead-"Ow-a-ooh-ooh" and "Why-ee-ii-ee-ii-ee"-sound more primal than ridiculous. No easy feat.
Guitarist Mike Turner filled in what few voids there were left with some surprisingly daring guitar work. One pre-song solo was pure, white noise, the sort of thing Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore would have been proud of.
Nice one, Mike. I didn't know you had it in you.
There was a mid-set lull when Maida tried to explain the story behind Trapeze, a song about a circus performer who discovers his wife and fellow trapeze artist is having sex with the human cannonball.
The crowd wasn't sure how to react, as if they had just unexpectedly been given the keys to dad's car. Much awkward, ill-timed cheering ensued.
But OLP got back on track with a scalding-and yes, dynamic-take on Carnival and noisy, tough versions of Naveed and Starseed.
In the show's highlight, a giant screen overhanging the otherwise spartan stage showed Saul Fox, the septuagenarian whos pictures adorns both the band's album covers, reading the poem from which Our Lady Peace took its name.
It was a fantastic moment.
That Fox was wearing a woman's dress didn't matter. That the atmosphere approached the kind of communal spirituality you're supposed to get at a big arena rock shows did.
Above all, it showed that OLP is indeed ready for the big time.
They've got great taste in opening acts, too.
Portland's Everclear, augmented with a second touring guitarist and a percussionist, flat-out smoked.
Their set clipped along like it was on the drugs singer Art Alexakis gave up long ago.
Alexakis's raspy pipes aren't geared to the big rink like Maida's, but Lord, how he tried. And what his voice couldn't do, the roaring guitars did.
Heroin Girl and the instrumental El Distorto de Melodica were the heaviest songs the Coliseum's heard since Metallica blew through town.
On the spectrum's other end, Santa Monica and I Will Buy You a New Life were as hummable and well-crafted as anything, say, Sarah McLachlan sang there in November.
Only on complaint.
At 40 minutes, Everclear's set was too short by half.
Shawn Ohler


back to review menu