Montreal’s status as a mecca for live music and the performing arts, in general, is alive and well, as not only was Steel Panther‘s gig at the Mtelus sold out tonight, but so too was the Madball show a block away at the Foufounes Electriques.
The atmosphere upon arriving at the venue was electric, and there were still forty minutes to go before the opening act of the evening, Brkn Love, were scheduled to play. The sidewalk and part of the street itself were awash with spandex and permed wigs, headbands and torn neon shirts – to the point that I suspected I was having an acid flashback to a Cinderella gig back in 1987.
Brkn Love must have been in absolute awe as they walked out to a packed room in a town long known for skipping opening acts. Since the return from the pandemic, that notorious tag has slowly been weening itself towards a crowd that does turn out from the start, which is wonderful, and maybe a result of the disgraceful high cost of concert tickets (like everything else under the sun now) and the sense of getting your money’s worth. Whatever the case, Brkn Love were the benefactor tonight, and they took full advantage of it.
Originally based in Toronto, before vocalist and guitarist Justin Benlolo quit high school and headed to New York and then Los Angeles in pursuit of his dream. With the rest of the band now made up of native New Yorkers and having earned themselves a record deal with Finland’s Spinefarm Records, things have been going rather well for Brkn Love – finding themselves briefly back on Canadian soil.
Benlolo and Brkn Love harp back to the 80s in a different sense and pay homage to a different category of rock n roll – loud, in-your-face balls out hard rock. No spandex or hairspray to be found, yet the crowd lapped them up all the same, and for good reason. Not only is their music energetic, but so too is their live show – especially that of bassist Nick Katz who danced about the stage between riffs and was generally quite entertaining. I suppose that’s the advantage of only having four strings to pluck: more time to frolic.
The Mtelus was packed to the gills with people in costume dressed up as they imagine hard rockers from the 80s would have, and to be fair, certain bands from that bygone era would have brought out people dressed as such. Glam was a weird time and one probably best left buried in the sands of time. Of course, this is done more in mockery than it is as a revival, and there’s something to be thankful for in that.
People had come to party, evidently, and not all could hold their liquor. One such type stood behind me and splattered my lower back in her vomit before Steel Panther were even close to taking the stage. I’ve heard that getting shit on by seagulls is supposed to be good luck, but I can’t recall any fables about having someone regurgitating their last meal upon you being lucky. It sure soured my mood, though, let me tell you.
Finally, from the shadows emerged Steel Panther, and the room roared to life amidst an annoying barrage of cell phones and other such zombifying devices. If you’re going to play the part, act the part. Leave your phones at home and show up with but a lighter. I suppose that’s asking too much.
Steel Panther are ridiculous and over the top and honestly much funnier than the majority of modern comedians. Their stage banter is maybe even more enjoyable than their music, which, despite being a joke band, is still rather high quality and good – if you’re into that whole traditional heavy metal or glam rock stuff – which I totally am! I believe that if you stripped away the crass and silly sexual and highly immature nod to the 80s, Steel Panther would still be a great band, which means that they don’t need to rely on their gimmick – they just choose to, and it’s refreshing to have a band such as them around. We don’t need others though, one is enough!
At one point, there was more flesh on display than at the local strip club (Kingdom, just two blocks away in case you’re interested.) One buxom lass who was sitting upon the shoulders of her partner decided to bare her chest, which earned the attention of singer Michael Starr, who pointed at her and yelled, “boobies.” Of course, that was met with cheers and being a generation that succumbs to so-called influencers; more followed suit. Then others, and before long the band was inviting girls up onto the stage to dance and flaunt their mammaries with the entire crowd. So it was going to be that sort of party. Given the lyrics to Steel Panther’s songs, I suppose this was always going to be a possibility.
The onstage banter between band mates soon turned cheeky and at times quite cringe-worthy, but that too is to be expected from a band that prides themselves on mimicking a time where such behaviour was the norm. It’s all part of the show and the onstage persona of Steel Panther. Crude jokes about hookers, anal sex and cocaine are part and parcel with what Steel Panther bring to a stage yet some in attendance still saw fit to bring young children along. Smooth move. Still, in a time where so many feel so self-important that they believe anything that offends them should be “cancelled”, it is relieving to see that comedy such as this (and Steel Panther are a comedy act) can still thrive.
The band then shot themselves in the foot when they brought up a young lady from the crowd, sat her on a stool and made up impromptu rude, sexually suggestive and crass songs to sing to her. One after the other, with each being a little nastier than the last. They then had her sing – and she blew Steel Panther vocalist Michael Starr out of the water. Whomever this young lady was, she had a set of pipes on her that beg to be on a stage, fronting a band and hopefully somebody in that crowd saw that and recognized it and has been trying to hunt this lady down ever since. This is the sort of thing legends are made of and we may have played witness to it tonight.
All too soon, the night was over and the spandex-clad wig bearers were left to spew back out into the night onto the streets, where their mere presence on Montreal’s public transit system must have raised eyebrows – even in an art city such as this.
Until next time, Steel Panther; so long, and thanks for all the mammaries! And to whoever threw up on me – you owe me a beer.
Review & photos – Kieron Yates
