‘The Besnard Lakes are the Dark Horse’ is the title of THE BESNARD LAKES’ second album, released on Jagjaguwar. And given the number of clichés that have spun from this it would be hard not to jump on the bandwagon. Well, you know what they say, it’s a cliché cause it’s true. And dark horses they most certainly are.
The evening was kick-started by singer-songwriter-bard-of-biblical-proportions NED COLLETTE, who wandered onto the stage in an unassuming manner, and went on to propel the audience into a dark reverie filled with his beautiful haunting psychedelic folk songs.
It was a real joy to see how just one man and his guitar could fill the room and win the crowd over. Collette’s songs are an interesting juxtaposition between virtuoso melodramatic guitar playing and dead-pan passionate vocals. All his songs were at least 10 minutes long, and at one point he slipped in one of the most fucked-up, raw, discordant, serrated, sexy, jagged, amazing guitar solos this writer has seen in a long time.
Even the most reserved of onlookers must have felt they’d been shagged bandy afterwards. The following song, ‘Blame’ was a lot more gentle and served as the audio equivalent of the much needed post coital cigarette. Blimey he was good.
The preceeding act was Montreal-based trio LAND OF TALK. These indie popsters have been gathering momentum over the past couple of years, having released their quirky Dinosaur Jr inspired garage album ‘Applause Cheer Boo Hiss’, toured with The Stills, they’ve just finished touring with The Besnard Lakes, and they’re all set to tour the US with The Rosebuds.
With Elizabeth Powell’s raw guitar power, and heavy bass lines/killer drumming from the remaining band members, they really brought the house down. Powell’s bitter-sweet vocals are comparable to those of Chan Marshall (Cat Power), but with the quirkiness of early Juliana Hatfield. Either way, they made this writer want to dig out her old guitar and get playing again. Absolutely fucking marvellous. Oh, Powell’s mother used to be an alligator wrestler. Go figure.
So after all this, it was hard to imagine The Besnard Lakes topping the previous acts, but on they came, all six of them, and punched the baying crowd square in the face with their heady, climatic brand of psychedelic heavy rock.
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They gradually cranked up the noise to create a sky-scraper of sound that practically blew the top off the building. We were privy to chaotic guitar duelling, drones, sweet harmonies, and insane drum bashing. About half-way through their set you felt as though your head had been put into a blender and your brain poured into a psychedelic musical milkshake.
The Besnard Lakes are one of the many amazing bands currently part of the Montreal scene – but these guys are different from your Arcade Fires and your Broken Social Scenes. Theirs is a heavier rock sound with solid roots in psychedelia and an obvious deep love of the prolonged guitar solo. They certainly pay homage to their influences – Pink Floyd, Spiritualized, The Mama & the Papas, the Beach Boys, to name but a few – but there is more to this band than mere shoegazer revivalism.
Fantastic music aside, The Besnard Lakes were endearingly quirky, with plenty of daft banter going on between songs. And there was even a touching 'Cilla Black' moment when the drummer, Kevin Laing, was reunited with his long lost cousin: "Hey dude, you can have him after the gig ok?" was the general consensus from the stage. His cousin was a nice chap incidently. Apparently, the story goes, the drummer's mother called him to let him know her son was on a world tour and they should hook up. A happy ending to a fantastic gig. Heartwarming non?
It’s possible that The Besnard Lakes threw down the gauntlet when naming their album. But after this gig, it’s clear that this band is the dark horse, so the album was certainly well named.
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