Tegan and Sara are on tour promoting their latest album, The Con, which is fitting since they basically conned me into thinking they might be good.
I had never heard their music before and was excited to see their show, since I'm always in the mood for new, live music. The show was at the Sunshine Theatre, and the place was packed. I slowly made my way to the bar, bought a $5 beer and tucked myself into a row.
I felt like a sardine. Then, a particularly exuberant sardine elbows my beer. I look around, trying to size up the fans. I see a sprinkling of hipsters, a handful of emo-types, and the rest are just miscellaneous 20-somethings. A few boys, all of them dressed in Bermuda shorts. Gross. The look of the crowd told me nothing - I decide this means Tegan and Sara are without genre.
Every time a sound check guy went on stage, people screamed. "I'm Walking on Sunshine" is playing over the PA. Girls are dancing and shouting, as if Tegan and Sara were already playing. Two middle-aged women are swing dancing with each other and looking really happy. Two other girls are in a corner making out.
The lights go down. The crowd is screaming, and the band steps on stage.ˇThey start with a slow song, and it ends abruptly. Immediately, a roadie runs on stage with a fresh guitar for Sara. The crowd starts moving to the music - dancing, jumping and laughing. But no one is singing the words.
After the next song, Sara gets another fresh guitar. And after every song, a roadie hands her a new, colorful guitar with the capo already in place. Not even Eric Clapton changes guitars every song, but Sara is the lead of Tegan and Sara and apparently a serious collector of guitars.
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I notice the dynamic between the two women. Sara talks to the crowd, asks Albuquerque how it is, and makes a few weak jokes in between songs and new guitars. Tegan sings and plays guitar, too, though she is more in the background. Not an afterthought, just sensitive, shy and pretty. They exude a certain anxiety and fragility.
At times, they ask people in the crowd if they are OK, too drunk or still having fun. Observing their dynamic, I assume they are girlfriends.ˇLater that night, when I check out their Web site, I discover that the two are twins. They are from Canada and have been playing music all their lives. They made their first album, "The Yellow Tape," in the early '90s. Eventually, they toured with Neil Young, the New Pornographers, the Killers, the White Stripes and several other indie bands. They got some success, a lot of tattoos and edgy haircuts. They wrote some more songs.
By their fourth song, I decide I need another $5 beer. So far, I am bored. Another beer helps everyone sound better, I decide, and so I make the journey to the bar and wait patiently to be ripped off. They are pretty far into the set, and Sara takes a moment to ask the crowd how many have never seen them play before. Ninety-five percent raise their hands, and so do I. She is speechless for a moment and laughs nervously.
Back in high school, when she still liked boys, Sara explains, she found the inspiration for the song, "I Just Want Back in Your Head." Maybe it was the second beer, or maybe they accidentally stumbled on a good song, but I actually start to dance and enjoy the simple, catchy song.
During their last song, I decide Tegan and Sara are a lot like Avril Lavigne, except worse. Their music is bland and stale. I really wanted to like them while I was watching them. Before my interest in them was completely shot, I tried really hard to find anything good in their music. I failed in this attempt.
There is something missing from their sound. They lack any spark of creativity or musical passion. They are tolerable as musicians. Their songs are pretty catchy in a pop-type way, but they do nothing new, fresh or edgy. Instead, they are very safe, cute and predictable. They sing about feelings, break-ups, feelings and more feelings.
Though they are both lesbians, they try leave this out of their music, which sounds like an underdeveloped imitation of Ani Difranco, Rilo Kiley and Bright Eyes. It's not even good to dance to. I've heard this kind of music a hundred times from a hundred bands. The night of the show, I leave the Sunshine Theatre with the sweaty crowd, happy to be free and, overall, disappointed.
