By: Corey Price
If there’s a single word to describe the long-awaited return of Jeff Rosenstock to Ottawa, it would be joy. There was an unmistakable joy from the band and the crowd alike that spoke to a unique and meaningful sense of community, DIY punk’s cool uncle helped create.
There’s little surprise here, as the hotly anticipated show faced years of anticipation and a COVID-19 delay that saw it rise through several local venues before triumphantly selling out the Bronson Centre thanks to rampant demand.
The tour brings Gladie and Sidney Gish along for the ride, a deceptively eclectic sonic palette.
It also made for a bill mostly unfamiliar to me and that strangely caused some nerves as I got in the line, for doors, that stretched down the block.
I know a handful of Rosenstock’s songs, but this room would inevitably be filled with diehard Jeff Heads bursting at the seams and I had equal parts anxiety and excitement over how this metaphorical first meeting would go. It kind of felt like meeting someone’s parents: you just want it to go well.
The sold-out crowd guaranteed hype throughout, though as Gladie hit the stage it was thinner than you’d expect in the venue, with a good amount of space around the Jeff Heads that had planted their flag at the barrier.
Gladie made their point early in their set, with a rock solid indie sound with some lo-fi aesthetics and heavy guitar parts complemented beautifully by singer Augusta Koch’s vocal talents and an occasionally almost folksy tone.
They made for a kind and gracious opening act that set the scene for a powerful night, truly seeming as though they were just happy to be with us, and us with them. Some jumping and cheering from the back returned the favour, and then, as the energy ramped up to the set’s finale, something happened.
Wrapping up with an absolute ripper, a subliminal call went out. Before you knew it, waves of the sold-out crowd had suddenly crashed into the pit, now complimenting the already filled-to-capacity balcony watching along.
With the crowd fully energized, patient fans waited for Sidney Gish to appear, including one with a homemade sign and another couple in matching newly bought merch.
Gish had the crowd hooked immediately, with a noticeable spike in excitement, even singing along to the opening riff as people danced, jumped and sang across the venue. From the side of the stage to the pit, the crowd was stoked to see her.
She is an absolute delight to watch perform. First things first, she’s a musical powerhouse: the stripped-back performance highlights virtuosic guitar playing and a real affinity for managing the complexity of activating her backing samples while singing, playing, and engaging the crowd. It’s tough to keep an audience rapt on the strength of a single person and she carries things off beautifully.
Her lyrics bring a dry wit and easy charm that compliments the music beautifully, complimented even further by her incredible stage banter. In case you didn’t know, the Bronson Centre used to be an all-girls school, and Gish warns with a chuckle to watch for Catholic schoolgirl ghosts weeping in bathrooms – mid-set would be the prime time to see them, of course.
More smiles and laughs throughout the venue as that joyous tone persists, Gish’s middle set providing a comedic and contemplative second course setting the table for our final act.
It’s time to meet Jeff Rosenstock.
There was no shock when the venue shifted into Jeff Head mode as the speakers began blaring ska and the crowd excitedly talked amongst itself building the hype.
The bright orange tank top, black gym shorts and sneakers Rosenstock wore on stage perfectly fit the cool uncle vibe I anticipated, flanked by a massive flag and immediately drowned out by a crowd going ballistic for the mere act of tuning.
Rosenstock’s set would kick off with… Chop Suey! by System of a Down, actually, and the crowd was immediately hooked, moshing and screaming and smiling along.
He hasn’t even started playing yet.
This creates a charming environment and truly gets the whole room on the same wavelength immediately, and the wait for him to finally get going has the room feeling like it’s about to pop.
The smiles, laughter, hugs and singing through the crowd are the crux of the beauty within Rosenstock’s set. There’s an inherent joy in the music, in the company of community, in oneself and being in a safe place, that radiates throughout the entire set.
With no hesitation, this environment is met by a rapt crowd ready to jump, mosh, scream, and sweat with phone flashlights, lighters, claps, and chanting beyond what’s necessary. Rosenstock brings a powerhouse punk frenzy to the stage the audience responds to in kind. It’s a lovely gesture.
He lamented the time it’s taken to get back to the city and you believe the earnestness. Everyone is happy to be here. It’s easy to see why. Even without knowing the songs, the energy is infectious: Rosenstock and co., including Pup drummer Zack Mykula, simply put, have the juice.
I didn’t catch many of the song names, but it’s impossible not to get caught up in the tight and energetic playing. Special credit to the blue-haired person in the front row, head-banging so hard I’m sore as I write this now.
Much of Rosenstock’s music carries a hopefulness and optimism despite terrible things in the world and the feeling in the venue is true unity through music that we can all come together. It feels genuinely special, with an earned and dedicated crowd.
The encore saw people running back into the pit for one last opportunity to leave their hearts on the floor and it’s hard to blame them. Rosenstock left everything out on stage. It’s only fair to do the same.
