From pounding blasts and whip-smart ragers, to sensual, rhythmic rockers, Toronto's Shiv and the Carvers blend numerous genres seamlessly with a blistering live show.
Dubbing themselves queer roller skate punk, the band — lead vocalist Shiv Scott, guitarist Nicky Maxwell, bassist Annie Jane Marie, and drummer Mike Wiznuk — played the Baby G on Friday night (March 14), a record release show for their newly minted Tell Me You Love Me Again EP. The four new songs meshed perfectly with their earlier material, while the packed crowd fed voraciously off the band's infectious energy.
Night opener Crocus plays a rhythmic, pummelling brand of noisy doom, accentuated by shoegaze, dream pop and hardcore. Picture the Cranberries playing vicious metal. Vocalist Jessie Burke has a formidable set of pipes that soared powerfully over the din and distortion; sometimes there were screams, sometimes there were coos, but there was always feedback, reverb and groove. At one point, Burke dedicated a song called "Kitchen Table" to those who have family trauma, with most of the audience cheering in response. Amen, folks.
SO TIRED exploded from the very first song of their set. Their brand of blunt, noise-laden post-punk is too rounded to be angular, too sharp to be obtuse — which means all of their angles are juuuuust right. The drumming, courtesy of Jay Anderson, was tighter than a slim-fit pocket, which he was always in.
The bass and guitar riffs burst and broke, while lead vocalist Miranda Armstrong intoned and orated, somehow cutting right through the calculated cacophony. There were even some undeniable dashes of grunge and classic rock, certain songs bouncing with an unironic aplomb. Eventually, the smoke machine started blooming and we were instantly transported to an underground bunker in Hamburg in 1982. Blixa would be proud.
Without a word — but with a devilish look — Shiv and the Carvers came out the gate with unmitigated riffs and sexuality. Lead vocalist Scott slinked across the stage, a lion in zebra's clothing, while Marie and Maxwell tore through crunchy riffs and brazen bass lines, twisting and bounding through the proceedings, all anchored by Wiznuk's loose yet pinpointed drumming.
Scott is a wild lead vocalist, bellowing and crooning, swooning and screaming; an unapologetic singer who terrifies as much as she seduces. The lyrics deal boldly with trauma, queer love, body appreciation, violence and disgust, while the music is at times joyous, at times chilling.
The band spent their tight 11-song set turning the crowd into oozing, screaming headbangers, putty in their talented hands. Shiv and the Carvers started off the set by playing their new EP in full as people danced, bumped and pogoed; a pit opened up during new track "I Want It All," and continued through the rest of the set; people sang along and screamed; an audience member even mimed kissing Shiv's boots in appreciation. These were all appropriate responses to the onstage action.
They played some old stuff and some new stuff because, as Maxwell put it, they've "got a lot of shit." Word. Set standouts "Brat," "Pretty," "Bully" and "Screens" showed the range and power of the their nascent oeuvre, pointing clearly to what the future holds — which is nothing short of excellence.
Throughout the show, plumes of smoked drifted through the crowd as potential wardrobe malfunctions were laughed off, the band's effortless chemistry and banter apparent from the jump. Jokes were repeated with fatherly unrestraint. Scott draped the mic chord around her shoulders, deservingly coronating herself with the ghosts of great frontpeople past.
Late set rippers like "Daddy's Always Watching" and main set closer "Only Got One Body" inspired mass shout-alongs and a rapturous pit, bodies throwing themselves from the front of the stage to the back and across all sides, phones filming, people levitating (not really, but basically). The audience cheered and screamed as the lights went nuclear before feedback and a quick walk off called it a night — at least for a moment.
As the crowd screamed for one more song, the band obliged, with bassist Marie taking a sip of tea and washing it back with some Diet Coke. The venue turned on the disco ball, which somehow made total sense, the sparkling, rotating shards turning the moshers into a churning disco pit.
Shiv and Carvers' music is filthy, fun and fucking furious, and their performances are always excellent. Do yourself a favour: get behind them ASAP, then brag to your friends about how you discovered them first. Just make sure you tell 'em Shiv sent ya.