Is it the genre that defines a song's perpetuity? Is it the fact that it's written down and recorded, or that it's played live in a communal space that makes it live forever?
Whatever it is, the music echoing from Sidestage in Winnipeg was not bound to time.
Two acts in particular felt weightless: the local rock 'n' rollers the Haileys and Nova Scotia's own Nap Eyes.
I entered the venue just as the Haileys let out their first scuzzy riff, and it was immediately evident this was going to be their best show yet. I knew this because I've seen the Haileys perform on a number of occasions, primarily outside at summer festivals. While the dreamland environment of a flower-power festival works well for them, the Haileys' music is designed to be blasted through the speakers of a mechanic shop. A small venue like Sidestage works just as well.
The trio play riff-laden garage rock, sounding like they're ready to open for a ZZ Top arena tour. And they played so loud it sounded like they were trying to fill an arena rather than the 200-capacity bar.
Complete with a Gibson Flying V, lead guitarist Hailey Legary leaned into every snarling solo, sounding ready to start her amplifiers on fire with a face-melting psychedelic solo on "Good Girl."
Bassist Hailey Hunter and drummer Haley Matiation (yes, they do, in fact, all have the same name) played with so much strength that it felt like there were two rhythm sections up on stage. Even through the long and almost proggy "Christina," they never faltered.
The Haileys were able to tap into an inaccessible space within sleazy guitar rock, making their music sound uncomplicated while also showcasing their swagger through the subtle complexities of their playing. The Haileys are a group meant to be seen live, and a reminder of rock 'n' roll's eternal quality and full potential.
The band bridging the monstrous genre gap between the Haileys and Nap Eyes was a pretty good local band called Blond(e) Goth. I regrettably didn't pay too much attention because, in all honesty, at that point, my mind was impatiently waiting for one of the premiere Canadian bands working today.
Nap Eyes' latest album, The Neon Gate, is a striking, demanding album that fancifully engulfs the listener in layers upon layers of cascading lyrics and equally mesmerizing production.
Nigel Chapman, with his timid vocals and somersaulting lyrics that would at the very least make mid-'60s Dylan blink, was impressively sweet on stage. Clearly very thankful for the simple act of being able to play music, Chapman and the rest of the band were rather quiet, basically letting the music speak for itself between the odd "thank you" and a smile here and there.
A mix of both new and old, those songs, although sung in English, could've been in a different language as far as I'm concerned, because I still have no idea what they mean. Chapman folds the lyrics into a meditative but energized structure of words that feels like he's defining his own genre of poetry. It is exciting to know I will never fully understand a Nap Eyes song because the search for meaning is what keeps the human spirit motivated. Questions are what drive us, and Nap Eyes are able to articulate that in a way that feels particularly celebratory, inviting, and profoundly gripping.
Of course, Chapman isn't the only member of the band, and their performance made that clear. Every band member felt like they had their own space to explore and showcase their distinctive style.
Lead guitarist Brad Loughead let his instrument fly to another planet with no intention of ever bringing it back down to earth. His lightning-fast licks often cut through Chapman's singing, and when there were specific times for solos, it sounded like he was trying to strangle the life out of his guitar strings.
While I know I'm in the minority in hoping they would lean into the long, quiet, philosophical material, I think it was probably for the best that they played with rock energy at a rock show. Their rendition of "Ice Grass Underpass" was as noisy as you could expect, and even though "Demons" lacked the ethereal magic heard on the record, its raw honesty live was emotionally stunning.
Even though their music sounds timeless, I wouldn't say Nap Eyes are searching for eternity — maybe just a deeper understanding of the here and now. Still, their show at Sidestage won't be one I will likely soon forget.