The only thing more frustrating than hearing (for the last decade or so) that Matt Good is an asshole is hearing it from half a room full of people who paid to see him. The old Lisa Simpson wonder of “why would they come just to ‘boo’ us?” is put into effect in this case.
You see, the audience of people who go to a Matt Good show can be split into three equal parts. Part A includes the fans. People that enjoy his music and appreciate the fact that he is attempting to grow and stretch himself as an artist, while at the same time being a very personal and passionate man. Part B includes the casual fan, that know his early work but “haven’t really heard the new stuff”. They are polite and nod their heads and chuckle when Matt delivers an amusing anecdote. Part C includes the beer swilling assholes themselves, the people who want to hear “Suburbia” right after he played it (yes, that happened). These are the people who mostly know only the singles and yell in between songs for them to be played. These people also repeat the title of that Dixie Chicks documentary, “Shut Up and Sing” whenever Mr. Good launches into a political tirade (or even a yarn about church-goers protesting him in Saskatchewan a night previous).
The problem is that people keep giving me the old shtick of “Matt Good, I hear he’s an asshole” and you know what? Everyone is an asshole then. Everyone in the entertainment industry - and in life - is an asshole. It has been an eight year long game of telephone, mostly starting by saying in Chart magazine that a bunch of bands sounded alike (mostly Nickelback, Three Doors Down, etc). Now, would you fault a friend for saying any of this? No, because he was simply stating an opinion. This opinion has been completely blown out of proportion, as are all of his other opinions. I have read most every piece written about the man since the release of Underdogs (the internet is cool like that) and I will tell you that people either push his buttons or simply assume that he is a jerk (one journalist I spoke with recently couldn’t actually name any of his songs but insisted she heard he was an asshole).
Recently, I almost jumped onto the bandwagon myself. Matthew has been involved heavily in the internet, with his blogs and Facebook page, but for some reason it seems like he has been using these tools to find “groupies in advance”. I won’t go into details, but let me just say that he is more inclined to respond to your “fan mail” if you have “ample breasts” and supple body parts. Also, neither he or his publicist have ever once responded to a business or personal email that I have sent. This journalist (and long-time fan) was placing his faith in Hospital Music (the new record) and the fact that in an interview he gave to another journalist (that I know quite well) he was nothing but a gentleman (who chain smoked five cigarettes in an hour).
Thankfully, that interview went well and the record is his masterpiece. So when Matt Good played the Garrick Centre in Winnipeg last Friday night to a sold-out house, I was somewhat stoked. It would mark the eleventh time that I had seen Good in concert, and his second acoustic show. For about four years there, it seemed as though he was playing simply to make money, giving us the same show over and over, night after night. He would play the standard hits that people wanted to hear (“Hello Timebomb”) but pepper it with new or obscure material. At this point in the game, Good is clearly doing it for himself.
He opened the set with two smaller tracks – “Girl Wedged Under the Front of the Firebird” and “I Am Not Safer Than a Bank” – before delving into the epic nine minute “Champions of Nothing”. He regaled us with very few tales (in contrast to his previous tour, in which the singing to talking was 60/40) and when he did, he was accompanied only once by a glass of red wine. The rest of the tales he seemed to shrug to or essentially give a “fuck you” to the audience, who in turn were shouting out the business of “play ‘Alabama’” or “What’s in your bottle?” It was water.
Delivering two of the four tracks from the hugely popular Beautiful Midnight early on (“Strange Days” and a hauntingly slow rendition of “Load Me Up”), he focused the majority of his set on the new record. Bathed in light that was similar to the cover art, he gave us “99% of Us Is Failure”, “Black Helicopter” and “I’m a Window”. He prefaced “She’s In It for the Money” with the simple phrase “Sometimes these songs have to be written. It’s unfortunate, but …” The song is about Good’s recent divorce, as is much of the new record.
The two tracks from the ten year old Underdogs (“Prime Time Deliverance” and “Apparitions”) were personal high points for me. After an extended version of the already lengthy “Avalanche” and a haunting rendition of “Suburbia”, he said goodnight. Returning for a brief encore, he finally gave in to a shouted request for “The Fine Art of Falling Apart” (a b-side from the Loser Anthems EP).
Overall – the show itself had a few technical flaws. He also appeared uncomfortable on stage, perhaps his old mix of medication made him brave, and whatever he’s on now is causing him to be a bit more cautious. For the most part, he delivered solid renditions of the new material as well as wonderful acoustic re-workings of classic tunes. At least we got a completely different show than we’ve seen before from Mr. Good, which was something I was hoping for. What we got was a very personal and intimate performance, for the first time perhaps seeing what Matt Good is really like.
