What was all that aboot?

Is it the Canada thing? Is that the shtick? Because that's truly all I'm capable of coming up with.

Last night, I stood among a group of downright rabid Sam Roberts fans, who were flailing, hooting and saluting up a storm as they cheered on the Montreal-based contemporary classic rocker (stay with me on this one, I'll explain).

It was crazy - I saw a strange sort of hopping dance that could only be described as "premature conga-ulation" (V definition: dancing that might be acceptable in a conga line, but comes off as downright bizarre when performed by one or two people). I saw asses grabbed, arms twirled, beer sprayed and fists raised. I saw people jumping and singing the ole soccer chant whilst waiting for an encore. The people were going wild...

...and then there was me. Standing there, holding my bottle of Stella, looking about in utter disbelief.

People were actually enjoying this?

I don't tend to be mean when I go to shows. I believe that there is something inherently good in any performance or performer - sometimes it just takes a little digging around to actually determine what that good happens to be.

But when I realize that I am going to see a show to its end just to take in the surreal, wacky train wreck the headlining set is? That's when I get snarky.

He's extraordinarily earnest, I'll give him that. The people at the show last night - many of whom had made the trip from Quebec - LOVE his band. And he loves them, taking the time after saying goodnight to slap hands with every single person who extended their arms, grinning like a fool, basking in the glory...

But let's try to describe this in a manner that Roberts could understand. Since I bet he's the kind of guy who'd laugh and say "Hell yeah!" if anyone shouted out "Freebird," we're going to go back to "Almost Famous" and Jeff Bebe, who says:

I work just as hard or harder than anybody on that stage. You know what I do? I connect. I get people off! I look for the guy who isn't getting off, and I MAKE him get off!

Sam, I was one of those people at the back of the house, keeping tabs on the length of that ridiculous jam (oh wait. You don't know what one I'm talking about? That's because there was a musical masterbation jam session EVERY OTHER SONG). And I was most certainly NOT GETTING OFF.

I just don't get what is so special about that music! And it frustrates me because I spent a lot of time last night trying to figure it out. It's nothing particularly new, it's nothing done with a certain special flair or penache. I dig classic rock, I enjoy downhome stylings. But when I wanted to go out of my way to see that kind of a show live, I went to see it done well. I saw the Black Crowes. Or if I want to listen to it? I cue up some CCR or Allman Brothers.

It just made no sense at all.

Strangest, though, was the headlining set when compared to the opening acts (who, um, I'd actually gone to the show to see).

Slow Runner and The Damnwells? Yes, please.

See, I'm a person who loves to see bands or artists many (many, many, many) times. Repeat concertgoer, for sure.

But there's something particularly special about having a band whose music you really, truly enjoy and finally getting to see them live for the first time. You've never looked upon these people before, and yet you're grinning and mouthing the words that form lyrics you've known by heart for ages - and you realize that you're going to be following the tour schedule to see when you'll next be able to take in a show.

That was the Damnwells set. Three or four songs off the new album (including two I'd already been digging, thanks to the wonder that is myspace), with the remainder of the 10-song set coming off "Bastards of the Beat." I know I was smiling like an idiot the entire time, but I didn't care. I loved it.

And then there's the experience of seeing a band whose material you thought was decent enough on album and then being delightedly surprised in a live setting.

Hello, Slow Runner. Fun and charming, the band adds a warmth to the electronic-heavy material in a live setting. There's an added bonus in watching them perform, as they get so intensely wrapped up in the music that the rest of the world seems to just disappear to them.

It's engrossing, it's entertaining, it's a good compliment to The Damnwells...

...and it makes the lunacy of the headlining act all the more evident.