Three writers confess, demonstrating just how odd shows can be
The last thing one would expect when walking into a concert organized by one of the biggest guitarists in heavy metal is to find rows upon rows of chairs for seating. Even less so would you expect an army of men and women wearing biker cuts with patches and tattoos to actually use them. This is exactly the sight that hit concert-goers who attended “An Evening with Zakk Wylde,” an acoustic set orchestrated by the Black Label Society and Ozzy Osbourne’s guitarist. “Uncle Zakky”, as he affectionately calls himself, played most of his hits on an acoustic guitar and piano, showing his musical prowess does not limit itself to shredding metal riffs and belting into the microphone. His showmanship was also the opposite of what one would expect from a show named after what is synonymous with the height of class; he regaled fans with stories about having sex with his wife upon his return from the tour as well as Ozzy Osbourne’s erectile dysfunction. The irony of it all need not be elaborated upon.
— Andrej Ivanov
The Unicorns, the acclaimed Montreal-based indie pop band, were reunited, which ensured a night of nostalgic embrace at the Metropolis. I scurried to the front of the pack and, for the next 50 minutes or so, relived my childhood memories as I danced my butt off surrounded by close friends. As the band returned to the stage for the final song of the night, the entire crowd, myself included, thrashed about playfully.
Suddenly, a man drenched in sweat and stripped down to his skivvies propelled himself before me, assuming a crowd-surfing position much to the dismay of those under him. I started to panic as he was pushed back, his legs spread wide open and aimed squarely at my now frightful gaze. As the annoyed crowd below were working to rid themselves of the sweaty mess above, their nudging and tugging unintentionally caused the man to expose himself as he came barrelling towards me. Just in time, my flight instinct took over, causing me to combat roll out of the way and into an unsuspecting person. Goodbye childhood memories, hello deep-rooted anxieties!
— Samuel Provost-Walker
Upon the release of Canadian folk band Timber Timbre’s Hot Dreams in March 2014, the band played a show in Montreal. Having previously vowed to never go to a show alone, I decided to attend against my instincts.
Partway through the set, the lights went low, a disco ball was dropped and lead singer Taylor Kirk said something along the lines of, “We’re gonna slow things down … find yourself a partner.” The album’s title track, a rather smooth and sultry piece, began as I stood centre stage amongst the crowd. As everyone paired off, I was instantly alone in a sea of slow dancers and stoners. The anxiety one should only ever feel at an elementary school dance welled inside of me. I quickly made my way upstairs to sit with the 35-year-old crowd, vowing to never go to a show alone again.
— Oneida Crawford