At first blush, Nation of Language and Miss Grit make for odd touring partners. The former are classicists giving new clothes to past pleasures, while the latter is more an iconoclast prepping for the singularity.
Yet, as the two New York-based artists pulled into Toronto for the final date of their tour together, it became clear that both are fusing electronic music with pop and rock tropes to express a deep-seated need for human connection, even if they go about doing that in very different ways.
Miss Grit, aka Margaret Sohn, arrived on stage in near darkness, only revealing herself — standing at the mic, guitar in hand — via the light from an onstage projector that illuminated the entire backdrop behind her. Performing solo, she sang over loops and backing tracks for songs from her debut album, Follow the Cyborg, performing most of the record in its proper running order.
The setup more or less anchored the musician in place and Sohn offered little in the way of crowd interaction, though the assembled audience was very engaged with her crisp performance. She did proclaim Toronto to be one of her favourite cities and thanked the night's headliners for taking her across North America. Maybe it's part of the performance (these are songs about existing in a dissociative state, afterall), but it sometimes felt like the images projected on stage were a barrier between the artist and audience.
Nation of Language were a stark contrast; arriving to a brightly lit stage in a jubilant mood, the trio were clearly riding high on the success of their third album and the near completion of the tour behind it. By their second song, "On Division St.," singer-guitarist Ian Devaney was bouncing around the stage, his floppy hair swinging back and forth. The crowd responded in kind, dancing in place while keyboardist Aidan Noell offering compliments for the moves.
The band have released three records in four years, each one a refinement that amounts to much more than an expansion of their Depeche Mode-meets-the-National sound. That deep bench of high quality synthpop meant there were a lot of high points during the surprisingly energetic set. The slow throb of "Swimming in the Shallow Sea" was an early standout while "September Again" was one of the more boisterous sing-along moments of the night.
"What's Ian going to do without the primal scream therapy every night?" Noell quipped at one point, though she could have been speaking about herself: she sang along with every word regardless of whether she was actually hitting the mic to back-up her bandmate and husband.
There was a palpable sense of accomplishment in the performance. Aside from being their final gig after being on the road for three months, the band have seen their star progressively rise, culminating with Rough Trade shops naming Strange Disciple their album of the year. Bass player Alex MacKay, whose father was born in Kingston, ON, waxed nostalgic about the life he once led in Toronto, noting that he'd once seen Tame Impala perform on the very stage on which he now stood.
Fittingly, at night's end, Devaney stopped the performance of "Across the Line" mid-song, disappearing backstage and then reappearing with a bottle of champagne in his hands. He popped the bottle, took a drink and then counted the band back in, finishing the song, and the evening, on a note of earned triumph.
Yet, as the two New York-based artists pulled into Toronto for the final date of their tour together, it became clear that both are fusing electronic music with pop and rock tropes to express a deep-seated need for human connection, even if they go about doing that in very different ways.
Miss Grit, aka Margaret Sohn, arrived on stage in near darkness, only revealing herself — standing at the mic, guitar in hand — via the light from an onstage projector that illuminated the entire backdrop behind her. Performing solo, she sang over loops and backing tracks for songs from her debut album, Follow the Cyborg, performing most of the record in its proper running order.
The setup more or less anchored the musician in place and Sohn offered little in the way of crowd interaction, though the assembled audience was very engaged with her crisp performance. She did proclaim Toronto to be one of her favourite cities and thanked the night's headliners for taking her across North America. Maybe it's part of the performance (these are songs about existing in a dissociative state, afterall), but it sometimes felt like the images projected on stage were a barrier between the artist and audience.
Nation of Language were a stark contrast; arriving to a brightly lit stage in a jubilant mood, the trio were clearly riding high on the success of their third album and the near completion of the tour behind it. By their second song, "On Division St.," singer-guitarist Ian Devaney was bouncing around the stage, his floppy hair swinging back and forth. The crowd responded in kind, dancing in place while keyboardist Aidan Noell offering compliments for the moves.
The band have released three records in four years, each one a refinement that amounts to much more than an expansion of their Depeche Mode-meets-the-National sound. That deep bench of high quality synthpop meant there were a lot of high points during the surprisingly energetic set. The slow throb of "Swimming in the Shallow Sea" was an early standout while "September Again" was one of the more boisterous sing-along moments of the night.
"What's Ian going to do without the primal scream therapy every night?" Noell quipped at one point, though she could have been speaking about herself: she sang along with every word regardless of whether she was actually hitting the mic to back-up her bandmate and husband.
There was a palpable sense of accomplishment in the performance. Aside from being their final gig after being on the road for three months, the band have seen their star progressively rise, culminating with Rough Trade shops naming Strange Disciple their album of the year. Bass player Alex MacKay, whose father was born in Kingston, ON, waxed nostalgic about the life he once led in Toronto, noting that he'd once seen Tame Impala perform on the very stage on which he now stood.
Fittingly, at night's end, Devaney stopped the performance of "Across the Line" mid-song, disappearing backstage and then reappearing with a bottle of champagne in his hands. He popped the bottle, took a drink and then counted the band back in, finishing the song, and the evening, on a note of earned triumph.