I can only sum it up as a bit of a strange night at the Orpheum Theatre. Settling into assigned seats in the upper balcony, it’s hard not to feel a disconnect when you’re there to see a rock concert in such a stately venue, complete with matronly ushers and a cathedral-like painted ceiling. Moreover, there for a band of sardonic rough necks with a penchant for pessimistic and woman hating (yet catchy) lyrics.
Something too felt a bit off about the wide gaps of empty seats around us, especially considering these were supposedly the massively successful hometown boys, kicking off their nationwide tour, platinum album in tow. Although I had heard the Orpheum was a quality locale for concerts, I was quick to think how the rather awe-commanding interior could outshine a mere ordinary musician. To compete with both the glitz and the suck-the-life-out stationary seating, one would have to completely captivate and invigorate their crowd if they truly wanted to rock and roll here. Theory of a Deadman gave a good go of it, but regrettably stalled short.
I could simply be biased, alone up in the balcony; our photographer said there was plenty of amped people down below, showing their enthusiastic support in contrast to the sedate upper levels. From my aerial vantage point in murky lighting, I did see a fair amount of teenage girls waving their arms and bouncing about, much to my surprise. It seems the chauvinism of TOADM’s musical content somehow fails to discourage their female fandom, much like “hoes” and “bitches” still love their rap music despite being used and abused by it. Really, I shouldn’t be so perplexed; my great motivation for going to the show was their radio hit No Surprise, which had been on replay in my head for a week without mercy. Let’s just say I’d had an appetite that needed satiating. Ah, it was a sad day for the feminist inside me; I hung my head in shame.
Greeting the audience with the Blame Canada ditty of South Park fame, Theory of a Deadman came out with our generation’s special brand of sense of humor before transitioning into a bravado filled performance of the cynical and lady lashing track Gentleman. However, the bravado tended to cut in and out; lead singer Connelly’s voice not only had to compete with the grandiose of the theatre, he also had stiff competition in the instrumentals as they often overtook the simultaneously sorrowful and macho voice so prominent on their albums. The sound issues continued throughout the evening and I unfortunately feel like we never got to hear their best.
About five songs in when I was pondering their likeness to Nickelback and how I did not hear it before, they decided to go a little red neck. Switching it up for an electric-acoustic trailer park scene, their rendition of “Easy to Love You” reminded us they fancied themselves romantics beneath the scorned front. The odd positivity of the country music vibe was rather ironic, as they played the pessimistic song The Truth Is and then some, before resuming their original formation.
When not jamming their own tunes, they went with a marginally awkward choice of cover at an all-ages show, Eric Clapton’s Cocaine, engaged the crowd with Canuck banter and mulled over the fact we were possibly on schedule to perish later this year if the ancient Mayans were ancient geniuses. We even had a Guns N’ Roses segue into Bad Girlfriend, I believe it was. However, I would have traded the playful tribute interludes for more of their own music. Can you guess why?
Remember that little ol’ song that was relentless on my brain? I was (and still am) rather baffled and disappointed that they didn’t play it, one of their radio hits, considering they only have so many. As I turned a bit sour at the realization of No Surprise being a no show, the opposite seemingly happened to the rest of the audience around us in the balcony. There was a sudden flash of life; people leapt up from their seats and hurried down the aisles to dance and get a better view for the last song of the night. Theory of a Deadman finished up with a passionate and proud Lowlife, concluding the encore and leaving me truly hoping they really aren’t like the dodgy characters they so much enjoy enacting through their music.
Review by: Lauren Dallas | Photos by: Michael Caswell
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