Metro - Toronto : Blog : Backbeat : Not So "Dreadfull"

Regardless of how much concrete we pour on top of it, we need not search far to find it. There is always something growing in our backyard. Always something brewing beneath the surface.

Some music fans live their lives searching for the newest thing. The newest sound. They feed it with their ears (Yeah, you heard me). They nurture it with their attendance and energy at small bars and cafes in remote parts of our urbanscape. These are what I call the Level 1 fans. They scope out new sounds and enthusiastically tell everyone about this great artist or band that plays at so-and-so club, and sometimes, it catches on. Once that happens, they are on to the next new thing.

I have had mixed feelings of contempt and admiration for these fickle fans in the past. I considered them music snobs who were only content when they possessed a secret to which I was not privy, making me feel as if I was always a step behind. I was. I was always a step behind.

Music is an ever-evolving landscape. I always want to stop and really get to know the space I am in at any given moment. I want to sit on the grass, and bask in the garden's glow before I hit the pavement toward the next panorama. And yet, I admire those who not only keep up with, but support and take part in the growth of a particular scene, a style, or just a group.

My uncle Mosez is like that (Shout-out to uncle Mo "What up, unc?"). Uncle Mo has frequented, for decades, the bars that were once referred to as "smokey", before the vegans took over. Hearing new sounds and keeping his mind open to the styles that never seemed to change too quickly for him. He told me that most of them were not all that new, rather they borrowed from styles that were older than he (and at the time, I thought "Really?? Older than you??"). He has records and CDs in his collection that only the artists themselves would look at and say "Hey, I remember that." He doesn't care. He derives pleasure from the music the same way we all did, but his gratification is not contingent upon how many people he shares it with, and I applaud that.

I too, frequented many of these "Juke joints" in my time, but I was the annoying guy that was always trying to tell everyone about "The next big thing" because I thought there was some correlation between quality and recognition. It wasn't until people started mocking my ability to distinguish that I discovered the difference between "art" and "marketing". Without that, record companies might not even exist.

Last Monday, my cousin dragged me to the Supermarket (That's the name of the bar. Otherwise this story would be ridiculous) in Toronto's Kensington district to see a group called "Bobby Dreadfull". We both thought we might be observing one of those get-up and grind electric noise bands, led by a skinny white topless dude with a 9-inch rainbow mohawk, a tattoo of Satan's vagina on his chest, and a pierced eyeball screaming expletives at the top of his lungs while spitting on a photo of his parents.

Not so.

It seems the "Dread" in Dreadfull was of the Jamaican variety. My favourite kind (not that I don't love a pierced eyeball).

Let me take you through what I saw:

A humble welcome by keyboardist Nick See's wife, Georgia, that made me think we were ove at her house for tea.

Then, just two guys were on stage. Percussionist Jorge Molina, and drummer, Michel Dequevedo . Jorge begins tapping rhythmically, softly at first. It's Latin, maybe Cuban. The cadence increases as does the volume. Michel joins in with just the bass drum, punctuating the beat of the Jorge's rhythm, until together, they seem to play out the preamble to a story about to unfold.

Next, Shane Forrest hits the stage to play lead guitar and let's out a teensy wail followed by a clever but succinct finger pick. Just a taste. Then he let's out a longer, bluesy, rock n' rolly, a la old Led Zeppelin squeal, and goes a little deeper into a Louisiana Blues vibe. Yoser Rodriguez joins them on bass, pounding out a hard rhythm that sets the song in motion. Nick See appears on keyboards but eventually reveals himself as more than just that. A guy I later recognize as the multi-talented Petey Leung hits stage right and falls in with a little "waka waka" rhythm guitar to add a modicum of funk. Then Bobby Dreadfull himself steps up with Kristy Morin and Miss Niya singing backup. Bobby begins with a smooth soul-blues sound in his voice... and a song is born.

The next song is the biographical (I assume), Bobby D. (She said). The crowd is captivated with this catchy mix of Muddy Waters meets Donovan meets the Ramones, with a mind-blowing guitar solo in the middle.

The rest of their set included Bayou Blues, Rock, Reggae, Ska and Calypso with maybe even a touch of Gospel. All original tunes that sound almost like you might have heard them before, but done better. The highlight for me was when blue-eyed rasta, Nick See broke out into a crazy Dance Hall, rub-a-dub, ragamuffin, reggae rap (I have no idea what that means, but the illiteration was too good to pass up).

So even though, it's usually hit and miss witnessing these type of barroom gigs. This was one time I actually felt like it was an hour well spent, rather than one I knew I would never get back like others I've seen before.

So check http://www.bobbydreadfull.com and get out there and support your local musicians. It's inexpensive, a fun night out, and you never know what you'll find. Maybe the next big thing, or just something that touches you in some personal way. Either way, it's all music.

Tags: Bobby Dreadfull, Nick See, Pete Leung

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Mike Benhaim has been a DJ for 20 years, which belies his youthful appearance. This self-proclaimed pop music expert has an opinion on everything from Lil Wayne to Barry Manilow.

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