It’s not often that I leave a show in a worse mood than when I entered it. But during a night meant to experience a CanCon-fueled nostalgia trip back to my childhood, Matthew Good and his Band proved that it was in fact possible.
First, let’s focus on the positives. I Mother Earth is a band I’ve seen once before, shortly after Edwin rejoined the group as lead vocalist, and I was excited to see them again. They always struck me as one of the more musically interesting rock groups of the 90s to get some mainstream attention, and they didn’t cut any corners to disprove that impression. A drummer, a dedicated percussionist, and a variety of drums and shakers available to all the other band members made for some thoroughly enjoyable layers and textures in I Mother Earth’s live performance.
It was nice hearing their recognizable hits like One More Astronaut and Used To Be Alright, but the highlights of their set, in my opinion, came from the multiple jam sessions that the band seamlessly broke into. Even the already-lengthy Earth, Sky & C. was introduced with an extended intro, and a lengthy jam before it picked back up again in the song’s back half. With tasteful shred-fests that leaned progressive with some subtle time signature changes and superb drumming, Christian Tanna proved he’s Canada’s Danny Carey. The band was comfortable letting their live set breathe, and weren’t in a rush to cram as many songs in their 70-minute set as they could. The crowd reaction wasn’t as strong as I hoped it would be during these moments of musical brilliance, but hey, I Mother Earth were still the opening act of the night. A damn solid one at that.
Enter Matt Good, a man that shouldn’t need any introduction in the Canadian rock world. His band members walked out in waves to the slow-growing Champions Of Nothing, and the sombre tone was certainly a change of pace from the night’s previous set, but a welcome one. Sporting a ball cap and wearing all black as if he were a stagehand himself, Good’s signature timbre carried an emotional weight that matched the dark and subtle glow of the evening’s light show.
This man has a 30-year career, no doubt filled with entertaining stories and meaningful takeaways, yet in the lengthy pauses between songs that were half-filled with heckles and woos from the crowd to fill the meaningless silence, Matt Good chose to talk about riveting subjects, like the kinds of Instagram reels he likes to come across when doomscrolling, or how they have smaller Gatorade bottles on stage than usual. I cannot overstate how painfully uninteresting all of his crowd interactions were. The biggest offender of the evening, in my mind, was when it came time to play the hits. He introduced Hello Time Bomb by saying, “If you bought a ticket to this show, and you don’t know this next song, that’s really weird.” During the choruses, he made no attempt to hit the higher notes, or any notes, for that matter. He simply mouthed the words off mic while pointing at the crowd, and letting them take over singing duties for the entirety of all three choruses. Embarrassingly, he did the same thing before Load Me Up, and used the exact same line to introduce that song too, followed by a “Wait, did I say that already?”
Disappointing as his contributions were, his band was solid. They played their four-chord progressions well enough, and with the help of some backing tracks, brought some musical interest to the songs I didn’t recognize. The drummer’s kit sounded fantastic, too, and his harmonies added a lot to the night. However, Matthew Good is a crotchety old man who acts as if he’s contractually obligated to play his hits from 25 years ago. I would have much preferred a setting where we ditch the cynicism and instead get this guy a comfy chair and a guitar. Let him play in front of smaller seated theatres full of people who have aged alongside the man and know what they’re getting into with his current music, which he’s very vocal about preferring to play nowadays. Sure, some fans may be disappointed that he wouldn’t sing the hits, but I would make the very rock-solid argument that he doesn’t sing them now anyway.
Review – Mathieu Perrier
Photos – Ryan Rumpel
