For me, seeing two or three concerts in a single night was pretty standard back in the 1990s, but not these days. It's possible on Granville Street with neighbouring venues including the Commodore Ballroom, Vogue Theatre, the Orpheum and more.
So there I was Tuesday (Sept. 17) with review tickets to see both The Cult at the Vogue and Social Distortion at the Commodore, with an '80s/'90s vibe all around.
At the Vogue, it felt like a kink club at three in the morning when Patriarchy hit the stage with sexy synth beats, kinda Peaches meets Ministry. The female/male duo did a synchronized dance at one point, but the violence wasn't cool.
Between sets, I spotted Vancouver Mayor Ken Sim having a drink in the lobby and smiling for concert-goers' selfies.
After a careful saging of the stage, The Cult began riffing on a career-spanning set of songs, many of them recorded in Vancouver back in the day. Singer Ian Astbury said he loved the intimacy of the Vogue (he's not wrong) and told the crowd how Vancouver felt like a second home for the band, which has always been him, guitarist Billy Duffy and two other guys playing bass and drums.
Those with tickets in the theatre's lower tier stood up for pretty much the whole show, whether they liked it or not. "I paid $200 for a front-row seat, but I guess I won't be needing it," said one guy as fans crowded the stage.
After a well-oiled "Love Removal Machine" we bolted for the exit to catch the first of Social Distortion's three nights at the Commodore, already packed and punk-rocking to the Orange County band. Showcased behind the drummer was the legendary logo of the hat-wearing skeleton holding a cigarette and martini glass, which always makes me think of the Georgia Straight's Mike Usinger.
It's clear that Mike Ness has lived a hard life, but he's still game to strap on that gold Gibson, capo the neck, strum major chords and sing heartfelt lyrics all night long. Wearing an Al Capone T-shirt, the guy really is SoCal gangster.
Social Distortion's most popular songs ("Ball and Chain," "Story of My Life") were saved for last, which was great, given our concert-going timeline. Fans stopped moshing long enough to hear Ness talk about how Johnny Cash didn't have a record deal and was deemed uncool when Social D recorded "Ring of Fire" and helped resurrect the guy's music career in the early 1990s.
It was a great night on Granville with Jilly, my concert-lover from another mother. On the way back to the vehicle ("snackbar" parking), we held hands, smiled and felt satisfied with our multi-show mission accomplished.
