It is one of the most shattering experiences in a young rock fan's life when the realisation dawns that a band with a name as fabulous as Theory of a Deadman do not play ultra-ferocious speedcore death metal, but instead sound like Nickelback. Perhaps last night was the moment when this sobering reality reached the Lower Mainland, when the multi-platinum-selling band, originally from North Delta, failed to sell out their "hometown" concert at the Vancouver Orpheum, even with the last minute addition of a well-publicized Groupon half-price ticket offer.
Perhaps it was the venue itself that failed to drag the faithful away from the Canucks' eventual overtime victory? The stoic seating of the Orpheum was a strange choice of location for Theory Of A Deadman's earthy brand of meat and potatoes rock. It was only during the final song of the night, the moderately misogynistic "Bad Girlfriend," that the crowd felt obliged to leave their chairs and rushed to the front of the stage; the emotional highpoint of a set that ran through the full spectrum of the good, bad and ugly.
The good? Entering to South Park's "Blame Canada" was a suitably self-effacing start to their home country tour. "Santa Monica" echoed with the well-crafted solidity of a genuine hit record. "Hating Hollywood" delivered a bruising chunk of Soundgardeny sludge. "Better Off" concluded with a suitably raucous slice of audience participation, as did "Hate My Life," a song that's "having a bad day" theme seemed to strike a particularly resonant chord with the majority of attendees.
The bad? Country-tinged ballads "Easy To Love You" and "All Or Nothing" dripped with camembertesque soft cheesiness. The latter, along with rowdier efforts like "Not Meant To Be" and "Lowlife," were awash with the unmistakeable aroma of Nickelback, the band whose influence and reputation Theory of a Deadman have spent years distancing themselves from.
The ugly? The thoroughly unpleasant "Bitch Came Back," an unrepentant blast of misogyny wrapped in a borrowed tune, featuring lyrics so harsh ("The trouble with girls is they're all the same") that it was hard to see any tongues buried in any cheeks. Not that the female half of the crowd, singing along enthusiastically, appeared to take umbrage. The band, seemingly aware that this wasn't their finest moment, dropped the offending ditty five songs into the set without an introduction and moved on swiftly.
There is little delicacy in the Theory of a Deadman aesthetic. Instead, you get B.C. boys being themselves, enjoying the roles of rock stars and playing the entire thing with a sense of humour.
"Sit down if you're a Boston Bruins fan," smiled retro-haired front man Tyler Connolly in a less than subtle and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to get the crowd on its feet. "If you want to light up a doob and throw it on stage, that would be cool too."
Last night's empty seats may be a hint that the time in the limelight for one of B.C.'s biggest bands may soon be over. And yes, this genre of quad cab rock does sound dated and uninspiring when taken out of context or heard on the radio.
To their credit though, Theory of a Deadman have two great things working in their favour. They write catchy songs and, even at their crudest, they put on a show that was entertaining from beginning to end.
It wasn't heavy. It wasn't cool. It was old-fashioned rock and roll. And a bunch of people really liked it.
