Default a band stuck in one place

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 14/06/2002 (8585 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

IN computer lingo, a default setting is a starting point — a set of preferences you rely on to never, ever change.

What an appropriate name for a band essentially stuck in one place.

Default, the Vancouver quartet named Canada’s best new group at the Junos in April, brought its extremely orthodox form of mid-tempo post-grunge to a sold-out Rendez-Vous on Wednesday night.

Despite an energetic stage presence and an elaborate light show laden with laser-like devices known as audience blinders, the boys from the coast were limited by the innate mediocrity of their material.

That might sound like a nasty thing to say, especially about a youngish Canadian band just beginning to headline its own shows. To be fair to these Nickelback proteges, they displayed no shortage of enthusiasm for Wednesday’s performance, even after an apparently long journey from Australia.

But there’s something horribly generic about this band, beginning with the canned, derivatively Pearl Jammy nature of plodders like Deny, Seize The Day or Faded.

Then there’s the image, which seems like rock ‘n’ roll marketing 101: You have your spiky-haired front guy, the bald guitarist in a cowboy hat, the dirtbag bassist in braids and a nondescript drummer. Singer Dallas Smith didn’t help matters much with his leaden stage banter, which consisted of “Are you ready to rock?” cliches.

Again, Default’s saving grace is its energy level, which was reciprocated by the sold-out (and perfectly satisfied, it must be noted) crowd. But from a purely musical standpoint, these guys barely have enough passable material to sustain a 65-minute set.

Chattier and wittier than Default, Winnipeg’s Sonic Bloom warmed up the show. Bolstered by hard-earned commercial radio play — this band’s been kicking around town for six years — the quintet engrossed the home-town audience for 40 minutes with a similar brand of straightforward post-grunge.

The entire concert was sponsored by tobacco company Benson & Hedges, which hung obtrusively bright banners in the hall and sent scantily clad cigarette girls in through the crowd in an effort to score publicity points for their cancer-causing harbingers of death.

As the monoxide merchants ought to know, you can’t buy publicity like that.

bartley.kives@freepress.mb.ca