"Yeah, we just got off the plane after a three hour layover in Edmonton, but it was worth it for you guys" lead singer Jason Couse droned at the ingratiated crowd in a classic hipster drawl. Sporting a dirty white, tasselled leather jacket and a beat-up guitar, he and the other (comparably nondescript) Darcy, Wes Marskell, drifted through just another flat mid-afternoon festival set. It was danceable, in spots, like mostly any other set on offer during the four days at Rifflandia.
In 2014, the former four-piece splintered in two, leaving the now-duo to release a statement proclaiming that their writing process "shifted some of its focus to take a look at each song and its potential for sales." It shows like a sore thumb.
Playing to backing tracks of bass and other rhythm sounds, they fell out of sync many times. There was too much guitar and synth through the mids, blocking out the vocals, and Couse gyrated in a way that was all-too-revealing of a man trying to get in character but only — maybe — fooling himself. At one point he tossed an inflatable pink flamingo into the crowd, which, as a shot at a stage gimmick, would have been fun had the music actually been happening.
The Darcys are just a couple of Toronto dudes who wish they were the Cure or Talking Heads or some ultra-hip underground '80s glam band from L.A. But they aren't. So they're the Darcys.