Our coverage of Toronto, Ontario’s NXNE music, comedy, film, interactive, and art festival will take place in three parts with each focusing on a different aspect of what gives the festival its identity and makes it enjoyably distinct and refreshing. The first part takes place on Wednesday June 12th, the inaugural night of the music festival.
A Toronto streetcar carries me the almost four kilometers out Queen St. from a club near my hotel to the Shop at Parts and Labour. The sidewalks are dark, and Chinatown is vacant, but there’s still a subtle energy on this mid-week evening. I’m already running late to see the only band I had singled out to definitely catch tonight—Milk Music—when I hop off the streetcar, flash my badge at the door guy, and swing around a pole to head downstairs into the basement club.
As I make the bottom of the stairs, it’s apparent that the place is packed shoulder to shoulder. The space probably only holds about 150 people, and the ceilings are noticeably low, meaning that even on a cool Canadian night, the swampy room feels smothering. But the bubbling, palpable excitement seems to keep anyone from noticing. I can hear Milk Music at the front of the room, bantering between songs, and I wonder how much time I have before their short set ends. Sometimes being small has its advantages, as I’m often reminded while snaking through nearly imperceptible gaps between human beings to work my way up to the front of a venue.
When I get there, the band is plowing through crunchy, powerful punk on a minimally elevated stage as the crowd pulsates in spastic movements only inches away. Some light moshing breaks out, but people keep it pretty cool, perhaps aware of the fact that a room this small could mean dire consequences for anyone caught in the wrong spot. Still, I’m jostled literally onto the stage a few times before I’m able to dig in, get decent footing, and brace myself.
All around me cameras are clicking and flashes are going off. Since I don’t even shoot with a flash, it must be my larger lens that attracts the attention of frontman Alex Coxen after a few songs. He grabs the end of my lens and pushes my camera backward into my face. “No pictures!” he growls. He only seems half serious and the move appears more for dramatic flair, so I laugh and keep shooting. He doesn’t seem to mind as the girl beside me and I both snap shots throughout the remainder of the set. Coxen is dripping with sweat, but he and the rest of the band maintain a nonchalant coolness as they rip through songs.
I’m riding the same wave of energetic excitement as the rest of the club when the set is over. I’d planned to leave and catch another band, but I’m curious about the “special guest” that was listed on the bill. I tap the girl next to me and ask who it is. “Merchandise,” she says. I smile, and say, “Cool!” Merchandise is on my list to see tomorrow, but with busy, often conflicted festival schedules, it’s always good to catch a band by surprise.
I grab “whatever’s cheap” from the bar while the entire building evacuates for cooler air, and I head back up to the front to camp out for Merchandise. By the time they take the stage, the room is packed again, and it’s immediately apparent that frontman Carson Cox has been drinking heavily. Bleary eyed, Cox makes some half hearted requests for adjustments to the monitors before concluding, “…or just…leave it.” He launches into the set, curls a hand over the mic and snarls a barrage of caustic vocals that assaults every ear in the tiny room.
From behind me, a guy gets hoisted up onto the hands of the excited crowd. He looks wide-eyed and overwhelmed as his body churns up and down, his palms braced against the incredibly low ceiling so he doesn’t hit his head. From a throng of people off to the side, Milk Music’s Alex Coxen jumps across the stage and joins the swirling mass, crouching down right in front of Cox. He has changed his shirt, and he wears aviator glasses as he bobs his head to the music coolly.
The band continues to play their brash brand of punk, and the crowd loves it. I’m not sure if every club at NXNE is like this tonight, but standing here, in this moment, it feels like this is the only place to be. This is where it’s happening. It’s that kind of show that makes you feel bad for anyone who was stupid enough to miss it.
Part of NXNE’s identity is embedded in this kind of show. Though big acts like as The National and Ludacris are increasingly a part of the Toronto festival, most of the events are still much smaller and centered around independent artists. There’s an undeniable street cred to giving a bill like this a special guest headliner like Merchandise. No one here seems to care which rapper might make a surprise appearance this weekend or which celebrities might be in town.
Standing in Parts in Labour on Wednesday night, I realize that part of what makes NXNE great lies in its clear commitment and dedication to independent artists. As they approach two decades of existence, NXNE rests blissfully in a stasis between established enough to pull in solid crowd-drawing headliners and small enough to make shows like Milk Music and Merchandise the heart of the festival. Although this balance increases in difficulty with each year of growth. Like-minded festival SXSW has maintained their original intent and continues to book local, unsigned, and independent bands, despite that the public has become dazzled by the stars who frequent the fest. NXNE will surely face these same decisions with continued growth, and only time will tell how the festival will respond and rebrand. For now, at least, Toronto’s underground clubs are alive with exciting underground bands
