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And yet, while he could easily earn his keep close to home, Canty still feels compelled to get in the van. His new band, Deathfix, finds Canty pulling a Grohl, by dropping the drumsticks, strapping on a guitar, and grabbing the mic. And while the stern name may suggest Deathfix is a fortuitously timed effort to capitalize on the current vogue for '90s-era post-hardcore noise, it's actually a cheeky misdirection. The band's freewheeling debut album sees Canty and chief collaborator Rich Morel—a prolific dance-music producer who played with Canty as part of Bob Mould's 2005-06 touring band—indulging their love of '70s power-pop, glam, funk, and prog-rock, dousing the recordings in gooey George Harrison guitar licks and letting the songs wander past the eight-minute mark if need be.

Prior to the Deathfix's debut Tuesday at Wrongbar, The Grid caught up with Canty mid-move at his soon-to-be-relocated D.C. studio, while he was "sitting in a giant pile of equipment and sorting through things that haven’t been touched in 10 years." Given the many demands of his personal and professional lives, we wanted to find out how Canty keeps his shit together and stays inspired. Here are his tips:

1. Forget about sleeping

"I just don’t sleep very much," he says. "You’re there when the kids are around but, when they go to bed, you get back to work and you stay up until about 1 or 2 a.m., and you get up at 7 a.m.—and that’s just what you do. Really, honestly, that’s the way it’s worked out for me for the past 15 years. It’s completely overwhelming to have four kids but, the funny thing is, they become interesting people in their own right and they also become self-sufficient, so the job does get easier. But it is fucking exhausting, that’s for sure. All I’ll say to new parents is, once a week, give yourself a break and get some sleep. Otherwise, just expect yourself to go grey, get fat, grow old, and die early."

2. Turn off your fucking computer

"I just really hate modern computer life, where you just sit on the computer all the time," Canty says of his impetus for starting another band at this stage in his life. "And it seems like with everything I get involved with—filmmaking or music production or soundtrack work—I end up sitting in front of the computer all the time. And I found it to be totally unsustainable. I really, honestly, think it’s killing me. So I’m trying to do stuff away from the computer, with people, collaborative things—and to be honest with you, if Deathfix hadn’t come along, I might still be in front of the computer. I’m on a tear to liberate myself from the screen."

3. Learn to love your enemy

According to Canty, the eclectic influences at play in Deathfix are a natural byproduct of his own catholic musical tastes, which, as he's gotten older, have gradually broadened to accommodate artists he once blacklisted on knee-jerked principle. "There was a very small period of time when I first got back into punk rock where I rejected my passion for Funkadelic," Canty admits. "And then I turned right around and asked myself, 'Why did I get rid of all those records? Why did I do that?' And since then, I thought, 'You know, there’s probably room in my head for all these competing aesthetics,' so I really have tried to be as open as possible. I hated the Grateful Dead with a passion, and I decided I really didn’t know the Grateful Dead enough to hate them, so I should really go out there and learn everything I can about the Grateful Dead. So, about 10 years ago, I went out and bought that Long, Strange Trip book, which is an excellent biography, and I bought a bunch of their records, and I listened to them, and learned about them, and I taught myself to love the Grateful Dead."

4. Listen to your kids

Though Canty's career stretches back three decades, he's much more eager to let his kids school him on music than vice versa. "They're into Frank Ocean, Macklemore, Kendrick Lamar—they’re pretty good. It’s wild to put out a record now on the internet and, boom, everybody hears it all at the same time. That never was the case back in the day—it’s really fabulous. And the level of discourse is so rapid that my kids are just hearing shit every day, and passing it around amongst their friends. I’m always surprised by what they’re listening to. They’re turning me onto stuff every day, which is great. They follow what’s going on, and they advised us on the [Deathfix] record. They’ve been advising me every step of the way. This record got focus-grouped around the house ad nauseum."

5. Don't look back

It's no surprise that a band as principled and nonconformist as Fugazi have yet to join their '90s indie-rock peers on the lucrative reunion-tour circuit. And, according to Canty, we shouldn't hold our breath for a reformation anytime soon. The fact that the band never officially announced their break-up offers a sliver of hope for future activity but, for the time being, logistics won't allow it.

"There's nothing happening right now," he says. "We are living and communicating and that’s about it. Joe [Lally] lives in Italy, Guy [Picciotto] lives in New York, Ian [MacKaye] and I live down here in D.C. We communicate a lot by the internet and by phone, and we see each other when we’re in each others’ towns, but, beyond that, I there's not much going on. There’s always little Fugazi business to take care of, so we communicate about that as well. The live series continues to be put out, and that’s about it. We have so much cool video from those tours—like there’s a multi-camera shoot from London in 1991 that’s really great, with 24-track tape—and things like that would be so cool to have out there. But Ian’s got The Evens, and I’ve got Deathfix, and everybody’s raising their kids. Maybe there’ll be time to do Fugazi at some point, but it just doesn’t seem like we have that time right now. If only everybody got fed about communicating by computer and just realized that they need to be in the same town as one another, then you’ve got a reunion!"—Stuart Berman

2. At least two Rob Ford jokes

Never let it be said that Mick Jagger doesn’t read the complimentary edition of the Toronto Star left on his dressing-room table. Three songs in, the singer assures us he won’t be making any jokes about our mayor—“so lets crack on with the show!” (Charlie Watts doesn’t do a rim shot, but it’s implied.) The Stones then play a song that Rob Ford can no doubt take to heart: “Gimme Shelter.” But while anyone can turn a front-page headline into a quick quip, later on, Jagger reveals he’s been closely following our transit debate, too. Referring to a current L.A. mayoral candidate’s bid to increase public access to medical marijuana, Jagger says, “Think of what a new mayor could offer to you—maybe hand out subway tickets?”

3. The Rolling Stones as reality-TV singing contest

Though Mick Jagger is undoubtedly and deservedly the focus of attention in The Rolling Stones (particularly in a regal purple-and-yellow overcoat that makes him look a member of the Marcel Dion-era Los Angeles Kings), he always welcomes guest vocalists—not just so that he has someone to interact with now that Keith Richards mostly ignores him onstage, but to prove he can still hold his own against the upstarts (especially ill-prepared ones). Whether he’s squaring off against back-up belter Lisa Fischer on “Gimme Shelter,” or inviting guest Carrie Underwood to trade verses on “It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll (But I Like It),” the sight of Jagger going tete-a-tete with his younger counterparts is not unlike those boxing-ring showdowns on The Voice where, once the competitors are finished singing their lines, they just try to out-wail each other in the song’s dying seconds to rack up extra judges' points. But, at this juncture in the Stones’ storied carrier, Jagger is a much more impressive jogger than a singer—while he effortlessly runs several laps around the stage over the course of the two-hour-plus performance without losing a single breath, he has trouble hitting the high notes on “Angie,” while altogether ceding the ascendant chorus of “Honky Tonk Women” to Fischer and fellow supporting singer Bernard Fowler.

4. The best guitar player the Stones ever had

Brian Jones may have founded the Rolling Stones, Keith Richards may personify the band’s attitude, and Ron Wood is presumably good for comic relief, but Mick Taylor is without a doubt the most skilled player to have ever joined the band’s ranks. His tenure in the group was brief—coming on board after Jones’ death in 1969 before bowing out in 1974—but he was in the band long enough to play a key role in three of the best rock albums of all time: Sticky Fingers, Exile on Main Street, and the peak-performance live set Get Yer Ya-Yas Out. The latter record’s classic rendition of “Midnight Rambler”—which makes the original Let It Bleed version seem like an unfinished demo—makes a mid-set appearance at the ACC and features a show-stopping cameo from Taylor, who sets the song’s revved-up mid-section alight with a stellar solo that reminds you just how much the Stones lost with his departure.

5. A gorilla flying an airplane firing machine guns that tear off a woman’s top to reveal her breasts.

That would be the animated video accompaniment to “Honky Tonk Women,” just one of several WTF moments that comprise the stage show. While the concert opens with an amusing short film about the fervent nature of Rolling Stones fandom—featuring testimonials from commoners and celebrities (Iggy Pop, Perry Farrell, Johnny Depp, Pete Townshend) alike—at times, it becomes disappointingly clear how little of that $600 ticket price is being reinvested in production values, which pale in comparison to the dazzling Steel Wheels/Voodoo Lounge spectacles of old. (Those big lips I mentioned above? They disappeared after just a few songs.) The announcement of the winning song in an online request poll (“Street Fighting Man”) is presented in the sort of plain default font you'd find on a karaoke screen; “Tumbling Dice” is paired with graphics of (what else) dice that look like they were sourced from clip-art; and the overall visual aesthetic bears an odious Ed Hardy quality. But most puzzling is the way Underwood and Taylor’s guest spots are capped by a frozen video still of their performance, as if we were watching a Grammy Awards tribute reel of musicians who died in the past year.

6. The hits—and nothing but the hits.

Yes, the Rolling Stones are the greatest rock ‘n’ roll band in the world—it says so right on the t-shirt. But they can also be the most predictable. Aside from their 2013 singles “Doom and Gloom” and “One More Shot,” and the Voodoo Lounge holdout “You Got Me Rocking,” the set is less a 50-year retrospective than a 16-year one, as it pulls the most obvious and enduring hits from the 1965-1981 era. Keith Richards’ lead turn on theLet it Bleed track “You Got the Silver” is a nice surprise, but it’s the only time the Stones opt for a deep cut over a surface, Hot Rocks-level skim of their back catalogue. (The fact that Mick Taylor was in the building and we were denied “Can’t Your Hear Me Knocking?” seems especially cruel.) And just as the Jumbotrons make it all too easy to count the wrinkles on Richards’ face, the opening stretch of the set—marked by a perfunctory opening take on “Get Off of My Cloud” and a particularly plodding “Paint It Black”—betray the Stones' near-septuagenarian state. But like their natural namesake, the Stones gain greater momentum the longer they roll; the show finds its proper footing once they start emphasizing groove over grit, as exemplified by tight, Darryl Jones-led versions of “Emotional Rescue” and “Miss You” (disco-era novelties that have actually aged as well as anything in their canon) and late-set standouts “Sympathy for the Devil” and “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” (the latter featuring a winning assist from Mississauga’s Cawthra Park Choir). If not guaranteeing all-out satisfaction all of the time, The Rolling Stones can still muster up enough spunk to make, if not a dead man, then at least several thousand 50-somethings come.—Stuart Berman

Set list:

Get Off of My Cloud

You Got Me Rocking

Paint It Black

Gimme Shelter

Angie

Street Fighting Man

Emotional Rescue

It’s Only Rock ‘n’ Roll (But I Like It)

Doom ‘n’ Gloom

One More Shot

Honky Tonk Women

You Got the Silver

Happy

Midnight Rambler

Miss You

Start Me Up

Tumbling Dice

Brown Sugar

Sympathy for the Devil

---

You Can’t Always Get What You Want

Jumpin’ Jack Flash

Satisfaction

The Rolling Stones play Air Canada Centre again on June 6.

The band's 2004 indie debut, Static/Crash, was picked up for wide release by MapleMusic, however, despite national airplay and international tours—not to mention a cameo on Ken Finkelman's CBC mini-series At the Hotel—the band struggled to produce a follow-up, and wouldn't issue their second full-length album, Nothing to Admit, until 2011. (In December of that year, The Grid spoke to Levoir about their controversial video for the single "Shots From a Broken Bottle," which was banned by MuchMusic despite being funded by their MuchFACT program.) Levoir's untimely passing is all the more tragic given that he had settled into a fruitful second career as the front-of-house sound engineer at Wrongbar and The Great Hall, and was gearing up for the July release of The Mark Inside's third album, Dark Hearts Radiate White Light.

At press time, the cause of Levoir's death was not publicly known. In tribute, we asked some of his many peers to share their fondest memories of the man.

LEXI VALENTINE (Magneta Lane): I met Chris in 2004. The Mark Inside was the first band Magneta Lane ever went on tour with and, from the moment I met Chris, I knew he would be someone special to me.

Chris was my first love. The kind where you can barely stand next to them because they make you so nervous or when they hold your hand you can barely breathe because your heart's gonna jump out of your ribcage. He was also my first real heartache in the most Romeo and Juliet sense; it was one of the most beautiful memories of my life. We always had a special and natural bond, so we remained in each others' lives through out the years.

He was always there for me to offer his wisdom and unconditional love for the 10 years we knew each other. No matter the years that went by. No matter the separate paths we took. Chris was a true friend. He never expected anything in return, he was a giver. I always looked up to him and admired him. He was a beautiful soul, and a true artist, and the loss of him leaves a hole in my heart. You know the kind of friend that you know is a soul brother? That was Chris for me. I will always remember him as the boy that taught me what it was to really love a person. Unconditional and pure and forever remaining a mark on my heart. Chris you will be missed. See you someday.

WAYNE PETTI (Cuff the Duke): Chris and I first met back in the day in Oshawa. We used to hang out when we were both getting started with our own bands. We'd play each other songs we were working on and talk about making records one day, hitting the road, and playing somewhere other than the Dungeon in the 'Shwa. The integrity and honesty that he poured into his music was second to none. His voice blew me away every time I heard him sing and his passion for music was an inspiration to me then and always will be.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kp2RjkFU1IA

KIM COOKE (General Manager of MapleMusic Recordings): I can remember The Mark Inside's manager coming to MapleMusic Recordings with a copy of the the band's Static/Crash album and it was an immediate crush for me. I loved the furious and feral blues-inflected stomp of tracks like 'Sweet Little Sister'  and 'Dead Already.' And live, on a good night, which was most of them, they left blood on the floor. Chris and the whole band were great to work with. They deserved better, and for Chris to be gone already is just profoundly sad and wrong.

DAN BURKE (booker at The Silver Dollar/Comfort Zone): The first time I saw his band about eight years ago, and I was so impressed by his guitar work and songwriting that I gave some lyrics I'd written and asked him to write some music for them. He was a talent: just ask British producer Jim Abbiss (Arctic Monkeys, Kasabian). He brought The Mark Inside to London for a month-long recording session. Things were going well. I liked him so much, I nicknamed him "Frenchie." Great guy to hang out with, very funny. Then, about three years ago, he was working with me at The Velvet Underground doing sound and a girl he was seeing walked in and I could tell there was something wrong. It screwed things up for him. But that relationship ended and he was clearly doing much better—working at The Great Hall, new record coming out. About a month ago, he played The Silver Dollar and said to me after the show that he wanted to get back in touch with everyone—guys from The Hoa Hoas, the Action Makes. I said, "Sure, but it'll take a little time." Now, the only chance we'll have for that is his funeral. Very, very sad.

YVONNE MATSELL (former booker at the El Mocambo): I saw the first condolence message for Chris on Facebook late Sunday night and immediately felt shock and disbelief. I am still feeling that Monday morning. Chris was a sweet, extremely talented young man who I met about 10 years ago, when he and his band came to play the El Mo, where I was booking. They blew me away—I could see what was lurking under the surface of a young green band from the suburbs. He was shy and reserved; he was possibly unsure about my overly enthusiastic response to their full-on Zeppelin-esque rock set. The band went through some trials and tribulations, but he came to me last year to see if they could play North by Northeast, and I didn’t hesitate [to book them]. He also wanted the band to start playing clubs again, which they did, and I was happy to participate in booking them again—they sounded amazing. My heart goes out to his family, friends, and his band members. Chris is someone who had so much more music in him to make.

ALPHONSE ALIXANDER LANZA III (Azari & III/The Cruelty Party): Chris first came through my studio back when Davy Love was doing recordings for his Magnificent Sevens label with the band Action Makes. He came by to support his friends and check out the scene. Years later, just months ago, I mixed Chris' band's new LP. It was a very positive experience and we were all very excited about it. The vinyl copies just came from pressing recently. He also just mixed front-of-house for my band The Cruelty Party, and that show was the best-sounding show I've ever been a part of. Like me, Chris seemed to have somewhat of an emotional void… I believe he was a casualty of simply trying to cope with the modern age in all its unreliability.

CAMERON JINGLES (The Disraelis, on behalf of the Optical Sounds label): Chris Levoir—a.k.a. "Frenchie" as he liked to be called—was a great friend who also happened to be an electrifying performer who I and many others were privileged to share the stage with. All of us at Optical Sounds are hurting real bad inside. I know I'm not alone when I say I wish you could come back. But I know you can't. And that's not fair.

Perhaps a memory of him would be the one we never got a chance to have. The last time I saw him, I needed his phone number again. We had made plans to hang out, but I'd taken his phone number down wrong and ended up jokingly sexting/texting a complete stranger for several weeks. I think he would have found that funny. We're gonna miss him so.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jPzHYe64T1s

NAV SANGHA (Wrongbar/The Great Hall/Riverside Public House): Chris Levoir worked with me at Wrongbar and more recently at The Great Hall. I clearly remember the first show we worked together four years ago. I can't remember who it was, but there was this really high-maintenance band on the stage sound-checking. They were the kind of band that would make your average sound engineer pull out his hair and run screaming from the room. Chris Levoir, however, was not your average sound engineer. I watched as he listened patiently and worked his charm to disarm the four egos on stage. At the end of the night, I immediately asked him to come work with us. Chris was not the most technologically or gear-savvy person I've ever worked with. For the first while we worked together, he actually did not even have a cellphone or internet connection. which meant I would often find myself literally calling his girlfriends, band members, and other venues trying to track him down to schedule him at the club. When I think back, as ridiculous and frustrating as this sometimes was, there was something special about Chris that compelled me to go that extra mile to work with him. I knew that he quite simply, truly, and absolutely loved music. He loved music in that objective manner that all great engineers and producers do. He did not judge. He simply delivered. It would never take long for a band or artist that walked into our club to realize that they were in the hands of someone who was actually going to take the time to listen to them and make them sound great. There have been countless occasions upon which promoters and artists have either specially requested Chris, or taken the time to sing his praises to me after a successful show. He always made a great impression. Chris was also a great artist. So when you put a group of demanding fellow artists on the stage in front of him, it was never a challenge for him to understand them, to see the world through their eyes for a moment, and to take care of them. This is a real loss to our community. I know myself and all of us at The Great Hall and Wrongbar will miss him dearly. Rest in Peace, Chris.

CHRISTOPHER SANDES (Loving in the Name Of/The Big Sound): I will miss Chris Levoir greatly. Chris was an unusually sweet and tremendously graceful man in his personal life and in his professional life as both a front man for a rock’n’roll band and as the front-of-house tech at a large concert venue—two arenas in which most men are found to be wanting on any level concerning taste, decency, understanding, and patience. And that is what is hitting me the hardest right now: the fact that we have lost such a sweet, sweet dude. A man I never heard complain despite the fact that I had him mixing a 27-piece classic-soul band (The Big Sound) with a mixing desk best suited to smaller acts. I have had two events at the Great Hall for years now: Loving In The Name Of and The Big Sound, which both represent a technical nightmare for any tech. I had brought in some world-class touring techs for acts such as Sloan and Feist prior to Chris who all said the same thing: “Nightmare room. Nightmare band.” Chris never complained and was patient and kind throughout the years we worked together. But, I don’t want to define Chris as a tech. He was a musician, a really good musician; it just happened to make him one of the most capable, musical, and beloved techs ever, a beloved guy in a town full of jerks. His absence and our loss will do little to subdue the memory of his kindness. He was amazing because he cared about people. Because he had toured, he took taking care of musicians very seriously. Ultimately, I'm sure he would have preferred to be able to make his own music full-time; he never once seemed embittered about having to be a tech to pay the bills. If he ever did, he hid it well and always seemed to take real pride in having bands and artists leave the club happy, which is no small accomplishment.

Sharing their root DNA with garage-rock brethren The Deadly Snakes, Tangiers were the black sheep of the early 2000s Toronto indie uprising—whereas peers from Broken Social Scene to the Constantines routinely raised their fists onstage as a symbol of strength, solidarity, and perseverance, Tangiers raised theirs only to better position themselves for a beer-funnel shot. Their 2003 campus-radio chart-topper, Hot New Spirits, was a totally wired celebration of excess and indiscretion, though the party couldn't possibly last for long: shortly after its release, guitarist Yuri Didrichson and drummer Marco Moniz departed, leaving founding members Josh Reichmann and James Sayce to soldier on for two more increasingly refined, if less consistently engaging albums. And since the band's 2006 dissolution, the core duo have drifted even further musically and spiritually from Tangiers' formative roots: when not pursuing his career as a lawyer, Sayce plays with art-pop outfit Bishop Morocco, while Reichmann has indulged in various increasingly idiosyncratic musical projects (The Jewish Legend, The Josh Reichmann Oracle Band, Dopes, and, Deserts, formerly known as Bad Tits) and was the owner of now-defunct Queen West clothing boutique Ruins.

So Tangiers were basically the last band you'd expect to pop up on the 2013 NXNE schedule—yet there they are, the full original line-up, scheduled for a Saturday-night 12 a.m. set at The Garrison. In anticipation of the reunion, we subjected Reichmann to a one-question interview, one that—like that urban-mythical philosophy exam—effectively boils down to: Why? In exchange, he offered five reasons.

1. This isn't really a reunion.

To hear Reichmann tell it, Tangiers haven't actually gotten back together. Rather, the guys playing The Garrison this weekend are a couple of old friends who wanted to start a new rock 'n' roll band that had the same spirit as Tangiers… and who also just happened to be in Tangiers.

"Sayce and I were talking about what would be good to do now, musically," he says. "Between Bishop Morocco and all my stuff, we’ve been playing all different kinds of music. And we were talking about the state of things, and what we liked, and we started coming full circle—and the band we described [as wanting to form] was like a rock band. And we were like, 'We should do that kind of band...' and then it’s exactly like the rock band we were in! Literally, that’s what was happening. We were like, 'Who should be in it?' 'Well, we could get Marco again…' 'What will we call it?' It’s the exact same fucking guys—we’re just not that creative, so it was going to end up being the same band!"

2. Someone asked them nicely.

Tangiers' set is part of the fifth-anniversary showcase for local label Hand Drawn Dracula, who released Bishop Morocco's debut EP as well as music from Reichmann's Dopes and Bad Tits guises. So, as a special birthday present—and to commemorate Hot New Spirits' 10th anniversary—founder James Meija asked Sayce and Reichmann to perform the album front-to-back.

"When Meija asked if we would do a reunion for his thing, and I was like, 'Ecchhh, gross—a reunion sounds lame,'" Reichmann admits. "And then I thought about it and asked the guys—like Yuri and Marco, who I hadn’t talked to in a long time—and they were both really into it, and had a fun-feeling relationship to it. And then I realized that it would be fun, and it would give me the thing that James and I were starting to labour over again, which was a readymade band—an already vetted band with a record’s worth of songs!

"But even if we weren’t playing this show and didn’t even announce this, I actually really, genuniely love playing with these dudes. It’s as good a rock band as I’ll be in in my life. To get that [with different people], you’d have to start again and re-cultive—it’d take, like, 10 years."

3. Because there's always room for improvement.

"I hadn’t listened to Hot New Spirits until now in, like, seven years," Reichmann says. "I think we sounded better live than that record. The record’s a little muddy, though I wouldn’t put the blame on the producer. We did it at Chemical Sound—I remember Al-P from MSTRKRFT was engineering there at the time. But things have changed so much that those songs could be treated a little differently."

4. Because they want to see how it feels to play these songs while sober.

"This band had a propensity to be unhealthy," Reichmann says. "It could flip on a dime from its super-energized/potent-life side to total fucking dysfunction. There was no rudder for the band. Successful bands have a rudder of some sorts—there was no person grounding Tangiers in its mission statement and keeping things healthy. Everybody had a little bit of craziness. We were jerky, for sure—though, in retrospect, I don’t think your attitude should be any different when you’re in a rock band in your early 20s. Watering it down into a friendly muppet version is kind of offensive, because underneath that is all the simmering ambitions and repressed sexuality that defines a rock band—so why don’t you just fucking go for it, and say that you’re that thing? It seems more honest.

"However, these days, in my late 30s, I don’t want to have anything to do with that! But if I were to invent a rock band today, I’d make it like the early Tangiers. We’re not giving into the excesses or self-belief that initiated the thing, but we’re still born of that thing, so you can’t take the growl out of the… something. The bottom line is I just don’t drink or do drugs anymore. Everything else is the same."

5. Because one never tires of external validation.

Though Reichmann can't say what the future holds for Tangiers beyond Saturday night, at the very least, the experience of revisiting the band's first album has also reconnected him with the idealism—and healthy amounts of fear—that led to him starting the band in the first place.

"Hot New Spirits actually inspires really good memories," he says. "I watched The Deadly Snakes do what they do, and we all wanted to make a mark in our city, and but felt like outsiders and weirdos. And I watched them actually do it and manifest it, and I felt—because I had the same artistic/weird ambitions to do something—that as they were existing, I needed to manifest something all the way, too. It was the first test of me finding my voice in the world. The problem is, I didn’t have a good plan for what to do when you got it. You want your record shrinkwrapped in HMV, but then what? I was pretty insecure back then—and I still am!"

Sure, Rush's intricate prog-metal and Belle & Sebastian's bookish indie-pop reside on opposite ends of the rock spectrum, and the two bands appeal to completely different crowds. (Most common clothing brand seen at the Belle & Sebastian show: Fred Perry. Most common clothing brand seen at the Rush show: Affliction.) But, as their respective weekend sets underscored, Rush and Belle & Sebastian are more spiritually in-tune than you might think. Let's consider the similarities:

Geography

Both bands hail from the largest cities (Rush, Toronto; Belle & Sebastian, Glasgow) in commonwealth countries located north of a big, obnoxious neighbouring nation.

Lead singers with a common interest

Both Rush's wailing bass wizard Geddy Lee and Belle & Sebastian's congenial crooner Stuart Murdoch are avid baseball fans. Lee can often be seen on Blue Jays telecasts in his season's-ticket seats behind home plate; Murdoch has been known to cover "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" in concert and, at TURF, he performed his skiffle-inspired tribute to possibly closeted all-star catcher Mike Piazza.

Love of pets

Both Rush and Belle & Sebastian's second albums feature songs about furry animals frolicking about in wintry climes.

Phil Lynott fandom

On Belle & Sebastian's 2003 single, "I'm a Cuckoo" (the second song of their TURF set), Murdoch admits, "I'd rather be in Tokyo/ I'd rather listen to Thin Lizzy-oh." One can safely assume Rush would rather listen to Thin Lizzy than sing a Belle & Sebastian song, too—the Canadian and Irish power trios became fast friends when they toured the U.S. together in 1976. As for wanting to be in Tokyo—well, we all know how Rush feels about Japanese fashions.

Synth-based songs about suburbia that employ rodent imagery

Rush opened their three-hour Copps concert with their new-waved classic "Subdivisions," a chilling look at the alienating effects of post-war urban sprawl. (Sample lyric: "Some will sell their dreams for small desires/ Or lose the race to rats/ Get caught in ticking traps.") A highlight of Belle & Sebastian's TURF set was the uncharacteristically electro-fied 2004 single "Your Cover's Blown," which paints a similarly dispiriting portrait of life in the sticks. (Sample lyric: "In this land of potted plants and boxlike houses/ Where the girls like mouses.")

Casual fans need not apply

Did you go to the Rush show to hear FM-radio anthems like "Working Man," "In the Mood," "Fly By Night," and "Closer to the Heart"? Too bad—for their first set at Copps, the band were more keen to showcase deep cuts from their oft-neglected mid-'80s and early-'90s catalogue, from Grace Under Pressure's "Red Sector A" to the Roll the Bones instrumental workout "Where's My Thing?" Likewise, though they dedicated the If You're Feeling Sinister standard "The Stars of Track and Field" to Wimbledon winner Andy Murray early on, Belle & Sebastian only skimmed their name-making late-'90s releases to focus on their less-lauded post-millennial discography and attendant B-sides. (Though latter-day standouts like "Lord Anthony" and "I Didn't See It Coming" are as winsome as anything in their pre-2000 canon.)

Celebrating the mundane

Both bands added personal touches to their stage shows to make their big concerts feel more like a cozy night in on the couch: Geddy Lee performed Rush's set in front of popcorn maker; Belle & Sebastian invited select fans on stage to play a mid-song round of Scrabble. (No, really.)

Gender-imbalanced crowd-participation dance exercises

Rush may be the most undanceable band of all time, but Geddy Lee broke into a fleet-footed jig during the funky breaks on 2112's "Overture," each punctuated by a roaring "hey!" from the mostly male (natch) crowd. Belle & Sebastian invited audience members onstage to shimmy along to their 1998 signature "The Boy With the Arab Strap"—though, as Murdoch quipped mid-verse while surveying the first group of participants, "too many lads up here."

Thematic overlap

Number of signs warning about extreme volume posted at the Kool Haus box-office window: 1

Cost of earplugs available at Kool Haus: $0

Percentage of show that actually could be comfortably enjoyed without the use of said earplugs: 50

Number of people seen being carried out of crowd in search of medical assistance due to (presumably) noise-induced equilibrium imbalance: 1

Number of songs for which drummer Colm Ó Cíosóig abandoned his kit to play guitar: 2 ("Sometimes,” "Wonder 2”)

Percentage of how much funkier "New You” sounds live compared to the mbv version: 33

Number of times Kevin Shields stopped the intro to "Thorn” due to technical issues before aborting the song altogether and throwing his guitar on the ground in frustration: 3

Number of minutes devoted to "Soon”: 7

How long we wished it could have gone on for: ∞

Number of times Shields addressed the crowd: 1

Number of words that we're decipherable: 2 ("last song")

Number of minutes devoted to the last song, "You Made Me Realise”: 11

Number of those minutes devoted to the song's infamous extended noise jam (a.k.a. "The Holocaust”): 9

Number of times this six-second Vine clip would have to loop to achieve the same effect: 90

Number of minutes we waited for Yeezus following a short but solid opening set from Kendrick Lamar: 40

Number of dates on the 2013 Yeezus tour: 23

Distance to the nearest place you could enjoy a damn croissant: 1 block (to the Second Cup at Bay and Lakeshore)

Number of stagehands required to connect the mountain stage-set centrepiece to the catwalk: approx. 20

Start time of Kanye's performance: 9:05 p.m.

End time: 11:35 p.m.

Number of songs performed: 26 (!)

Number of acts introduced via vocabulary-lesson interstitials: 5

Number of accompanying musicians: 3 (back-up vocalist Tony Williams, multi-instrumentalist Mike Dean, and DJ Mano)

Number of accompanying nylon-masked, robed female interpretive dancers that resembled a religious cult on a bank-robbery spree (that is, when they weren't donning nude bodysuits): 12

Number of appearances from (an actor playing) Jesus himself: 2

Percentage of the show Kanye performed whilst wearing a variety of masks that made him look not unlike a Mexican wrestler as outfitted by Liberace: 80

Number of outfit changes: 6

Songs performed topless while standing at the top of the mountain: 1 ("Power")

Number of people in my section wearing Kanye-approved leather jeggings: 1

Number of times Kanye got the crowd to repeat the "leader/follower/dick swallower" hook of "New Slaves": 4

Number of timely Foreigner samples: 1 ("Cold as Ice," to set up "Cold")

Number of shout-outs to the Chiraq kids: 2 (literally in "Black Skinheads," and figuratively via a cover of Chief Keef's "I Don't Like")

Number of songs performed while lying down: 3

Number of songs that featured pyro: 2 ("Blood on the Leaves" and "All of the Lights")

Number of seconds that elapsed between playing the first piano note of "Runaway" and the second, whilst the crowd went absolutely apeshit: 60

Number of minutes Kanye stretched out the ending of "Runaway" into a speech about believing in yourself; pursuing your dreams; Yeezus not getting nominated for an Album of the Year Grammy despite being the most critically acclaimed album of the year; saying "fuck you" to the Grammys; explaining that, by saying "fuck you," he really means "I love you," because love and hate are two sides of the same coin, whereas indifference is the true opposite of love; why he's perfectly justified in comparing himself to teachers and soldiers because, like them, he's performing a valuable public service; wondering when it became okay to diss musicians on the internet; and asking the crowd to demand more accurate reporting from the media: 20

How many types of people there are in the world, according to Kanye West: 2 ("dreamers and haters—the haters are people who gave up on their dreams")

Number of months Kanye promises to not say anything publicly after this show: 6

Number of years Kanye believes he is ahead of everyone else: 10 ("I'm thinking about 2024!")

Number of minutes Kanye spent following up "Jesus Walks" with a speech thanking his crew, fans, God, and Adidas, and wishing the Grammys a Merry Christmas, and promising not to say anything negative about anyone ever again: 7

Percentage of energy-level increase in the ACC when the aforementioned rambling speech segued into a Drake cameo: ∞

Number of tracks Drake performed: 2 ("Forever," "All Me")

Approximate number of minutes Neutral Milk Hotel were late taking to the stage at that Horseshoe show in '98, because they thought their drive in from Montreal would only take, like, 30 minutes as opposed to five hours: 120

Scheduled start time of last night's Kool Haus set: 9:40 p.m.

Actual start time of last night's Kool Haus set: 9:47 p.m.

Number of times the band apologized last night for showing up late to that '98 show: 2

Approximate percentage of crowd who weren't yet born when Neutral Milk Hotel last performed in Toronto: 5

Length in minutes of last night's Kool Haus set: 78

Length in inches of the beard that bandleader Jeff Mangum has grown since performing solo shows in Toronto in 2011: 6

HTML colour code required if you wanted to render horn player Scott Spillane's beard in digital form: #FFFFFF

Number of photos the band wanted the audience to take last night with their smartphones: 0

Number of audience members who seemingly passed through security without seeing the giant "NO PHOTO" sign greeting them at the Kool Haus doors: at least 4 (you know who you are)

Number of "King of Carrot Flowers” parts performed to start the show: 3

Approximate percentage of the audience considering a conversion to Christianity during the "I love you Jesus Christ" section of "King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 2”: 98

Number of Neutral Milk Hotel songs that have inspired the name of a popular Dundas West bar yet, sadly, were not performed on this night: 1 ("Communist Daughter")

Number of cigarette lighters hoisted aloft during the mid-set rendition of In the Aeroplane Over the Sea’s stirring title track: 3

Number of songs Mangum performed entirely solo: 1 ("Two-Headed Boy")

Percentage decrease in audience chatter when the slowly strummed obscurity "Ferris Wheel on Fire" lead into the spellbinding Aeroplane centrepiece “Oh Comely’’: 500

Percentage of acceleration increase applied to all songs performed from Neutral Milk Hotel’s totally underrated 1996 debut album, On Avery Island: 50

Measurement in feet of the relative muddiness of the Kool Haus sound mix: 4 (Memo to Julian Koster: turn down the bass, dude!)

Number of songs that perfectly forecast the weather outside: 1 ("Snow Song Pt. 1”)

SET LIST

King of Carrot Flowers Pt. 1

King of Carrot Flowers Pts. 2 & 3

Holland 1945

A Baby for Pree/Where You'll Find Me Now

Avery Island/April 1st

Gardenhead/Leave Me Alone

Everything Is

Two-Headed Boy

Fool

In the Aeroplane Over the Sea

Naomi

Ferris Wheel on Fire

Oh Comely

Song Against Sex

Ruby Bulbs

Snow Song Pt. 1

Encore:

Ghost

[untitled]

Two-Headed Boy Pt. 2

Engine