Winter stains Winnipeg with a perpetual scar that each local begrudgingly learns to wear without much pride. Most people living here resent the cold, and the weather has a distinct way of numbing their hearts. A few things save us through the tired months — like a skating trail on the river and a nearby provincial park for cross-country skiing — but those can be counted on one hand.
Thank god for Winterruption, which brings out acts from all across the continent (and a couple from just around the corner). Sometimes you get both in one night, and that's how L.A.'s Cheekface and Winnipeg's Tired Cossack ended up playing the Park Theatre, a perfect warm-up for a chill-melting festival.
The last time Tired Cossack took the stage for Winterruption, they performed after a deeply profound and hushed set from Parquet Courts' A. Savage. Bandleader Stephen Levko accidentally wore the exact same outfit as Savage and took the piss out of both of them by saying they "thought the Ned Flanders fit would have been more unique."
Luckily for Levko, this time around he was distinctly himself.
Tired Cossack's rowdy, loose, fuck-it attitude toward live shows works immaculately well with their music. At their core, Levko's songs are dance numbers originating from the mind of a maximalist. Levko throws everything he has at the songs, blending and breaking genres in ways that feel disarmingly natural.
The five-piece roared through the set, learning into the distinctive warbling guitars, which sounded like they were fighting to stay in tune. They played unbound, like a true grunge band, and even their most synthetic-sounding song, "P77," played like a distorted jam session.
The shoegaze-heavy "Cowboy" pulled me in like Levko was fishing for sport. Its brash, unadulterated wall of sound was more hypnotic than ever before and engulfed the entire venue in what can only be described as awe.
"Thank you for being involved in the dead of winter in your local music scene," Levko said at one point, dropping his jovial charm for a touch of sincerity before heading off the stage.
Cheekface, on the other hand, make me feel like I'm taking crazy pills. They're a seemingly universally loved band, critical darlings for indie pop rock, and singer Greg Katz's sing-speak vocals are distinct in a scene that prefers hushed mumbling. To me, they're just fucking annoying. (Luckily, Cheeckface love people who find them annoying.)
Despite that, I was initially excited to see Cheekface live because, while their recordings sound a little over-saturated — a blend of DEVO essentialism with early 2000s pop-punk fabrication — the environment of a live show strips a band down to its raw elements. And Cheekface are best at their most raw. "Trophy Hunting at the Zoo" and "Don't Stop Believing" — from last year's It's Sorted and their 2019 debut, Therapy Island, respectively — bring some of that authentic energy.
The live setting did help a bit; their rhythm section was on fire with subtle creative flairs, and the tones from Katz's guitar during his solos hinted at something truly transgressive. Unfortunately, the positives more or less ended there.
Cheekface approached the entire show with smiles so eerie they rivalled a clown's unsettling eternal optimism. And continually introducing songs as an "original Cheekface composition" became as gratingly repetitive as the music that followed.
When they played the dull "Plastic," I couldn't help but feel like I was losing more brain cells than if I were huffing nitrous oxide. Their new track, "Growth Sux," felt like watching elementary school teachers put on a show for their students. Utilizing all their best vocal clicks, strange gizmos and gadgets, Cheekface spent the next few minutes preaching about some ideology you probably can't argue with, but I lost interest halfway through.
Unfortunately for Cheekface, lyrics make up a large percentage of a song and, well, a nice way to put it is that they have some space to grow in that area. Their lyrics feel like Katz spends too much time on Twitter and saw one too many Instagram infographics on "good politics." Beyond the initial delivery, the lyrical content feels rather vapid. "Nature is returning, and we really are the virus, dude," goes one line they decided was worth keeping in "Life in a Bag."
Even if the sedate simplicity is the point, the infectious spirit of their songs feels more like a yawn than a smile. If that sounds like a dumb figure of speech, blame Cheekface; they came up with it.
Self-awareness can only carry a show so far. But the fans seemed to like it, because they knew all the calls and responses without warning or being told what to say. So, whatever.