I'm the luckiest girl in the world.

Well, maybe that's not entirely accurate.  I'm sure the actual luckiest girl in the world has a million dollars, and superpowers, a perfect singing voice, 20/10 vision and a special room for her vast collection of boots.  But I feel like I'm pretty close - for any number of reasons, but there's a big one that's all about music.

You see, some people never get to see their favourite musicians play live.  Maybe those people live in remote places, maybe their favourite bands just don't go on the road, or maybe - most tragically of all - their most-loved artists are no longer with us.   And then, there's another large segment of the music-loving population who have to wait years in between tours and then pay hundreds of dollars to sit in the nosebleed section of a stadium and look at the Jumbotron and the light show.

And that's where I do think I'm the luckiest girl in the world.  My favourite artists are local.  And not just local in a happenstance sort of way, but in a 'they play venues where the audience is numbered in hundreds - or sometimes even tens - rather than thousands' way.   In an 'I feel sorry for anyone who doesn't get to experience something like this' (I admit, I almost went down the 'I pity the fool...' road there, but thought it detracted from the tone I was going for) sort of way.

So, on that note, let me tell you about Lowest of the Low.   More specifically - at Lee's Palace, Saturday December 4, 2010.   There's a whole other long post that could be - and almost certainly will be, if I know myself - written about the band in general and how they've been a constant in the soundtrack of my adult life, but for the moment, a concert review.

Now, the Low have flitted in and out of existence (the band as an entity, that is; its individual members have not, to my knowledge, become intangible at any point) over the years.  This latest reunion is in support of the remastered, special-edition-with-extra-bells-and-whistles, 20th (!) anniversary re-release of their first album, 'Shakespeare My Butt', and last Saturday's show was the second of a two-night stand at Lee's.   And given that just a few short months ago I would have been skeptical of my chances at ever seeing them in the full LOTL configuration again, this was something worth getting pretty effing excited about.  

I was clearly not alone in this viewpoint, since both shows sold out fast - well in advance of the wave of articles and interviews that surrounded the actual album re-release date - and tickets were apparently going for 4x their face value on Craigslist in the final days prior.   Indeed, I arrived at Lee's (an hour before doors opened; I'm nothing if not overly punctual) to find a gauntlet of scalpers, and thought for a moment that I had stepped back in time to my high school days of going to shows at Maple Leaf Gardens.  "Tickets, tickets..."  That only lasted a moment before I remembered that it's not 1987 any more, which is a good thing since my musical taste (not to mention my hair and wardrobe) has improved exponentially in the interim.

Speaking of good musical taste, the openers for the show were Jim Bryson and John K. Samson.  They put on a great set, which I thoroughly enjoyed despite not knowing all of the songs (I'm familiar with the Weakerthans, but hadn't yet caught up on the album they've done with Bryson) and despite the thicket of loud talkers directly behind me.   Why do people feel compelled to do that?   That's another post for another day.

And then, after not too long a break, out came a real character - a Tough Guy (some things do require capitalization) with a bristly beard and a dapper suit, complete with hat, who ramped up the sense of occasion by introducing the band in a fine boxing-ring-announcer sort of bellow.  I've forgotten Tough Guy's name, but apparently he used to tour with the band back in the day.   And then...

Wow.  Did someone set off a massive electric charge?  No, that was Lowest of the Low taking the stage, but the effect was much the same: the crowd came alive and the room was suddenly reverberating with energy.  The main set was the 17 songs of Shakespeare My Butt, played in the same order as on the CD, and every single one sounded as fresh and compelling as I've ever heard them.  Perhaps due to the time away to work on other projects, or perhaps it was the anticipation of the re-release (or perhaps there was some magic in those cool black suits?), but whatever it was, they were entirely ON.  Maybe my eyes were deceived by the fog of awesomeness, but I swear even the normally reserved-seeming Dylan Parker was busting some moves.

The SMB set was followed by two encores, six and five songs respectively (although, dammit, I saw a photo of the setlist that suggested there were even more encores prepared... a pox on the bunch of people who set off a chain reaction of departures after the second one!), which included a wonderful Stephen Stanley/John K. Samson take on the Weakerthans' 'One Great City!', and then John and Jim both joined the full band for a rendition of a song I later learned was Jim's 'Impaler', complete with microphone-swinging theatrics, and Samson going for (the world's most tentative) crowd surfing.

I'm doing a completely inadequate job of conveying just how incredible this show was.  There was no one specific thing I can single out - it's hard to even identify highlights as far as particular songs - because it was just ALL. SO. GREAT.    You know that feeling in your chest you get (and if you don't know, just picture that scene where the Grinch's small heart grew three sizes that day) when you're witnessing something so phenomenal that it defies description?   Yeah... That set in around the opening notes of Just About 'The Only' Blues, and lasted till I got home that night.  After the show concluded, a friend asked what I thought of it, and all I could summon up to say (no doubt with some kind of ridiculously beatific expression on my face) was "....I'm so happy..."   

Trust me (and the length of this entry probably gives you the general idea), I'm not often lost for words.  That night, I was.