FEBRUARY 2009 - GUELPH MERCURY - LIVE REVIEW

Bruce Peninsula took the stage next. And when they take a stage, they take the whole thing. Like... damn. That's a lot of people. Eleven, in fact. They had a solid enough set, and if the female vocals seemed a little overpowered by everything else, they shone through when it counted. Misha Bower... how can I put this? When Misha Bower opens her mouth, the last thing you expect to hear is the powerful, husky wail that drives many of these songs. Like Lift Em Up/Jack Can I Ride, two of the three traditional songs from the BP 7" released last July. She just effortlessly steals the show with her raw silk voice. It's the same thing on Weave Myself a Dress and Crabapples, which they sang to close out the show. They had a false start with the song, but recovered quickly. Maybe to make up for the screwup, they seemed to call forth some demons of rock and roll for an inspired end to their set. Neil Haverty was writhing like he was possessed and singing like it, too. I love watching musicians who are caught up in the moment and passionate about what they do.

(and below are words from the preview, posted on the same blog)

The actual Bruce Peninsula is sprawling, graceful and studded with unenhanced, eclectic beauty. So it's not surprising that Bruce Peninsula took their name from the place, because they are the same deal. They perform fiery, call and response spirituals that span the spectrum of music, from bluesy gospel to searching prog. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: "weird." But give it a listen. Soon you will be thinking "Amazing." The choir is lead by Neil Haverty's whisky-soaked old-timey preacher growl. His voice is commanding, arresting. I don't know what else to say. His gruff rumble, when combined with the soaring female vocals, blows my mind.

They sing this song, Weave Myself a Dress that is just.... gorgeous. It's like slipping a hand-knit sweater over your head and feeling every stitch, every thread. Starting out lazy and almost weary with Mischa Bowers' easy, husky rasp, a wave of sound rolls over her in the middle of the song. It immediately dives down to nothing and then builds and builds until it's washing over you and surging ahead into the shouting furor of Crabapples, which I think is my favourite song from their album, A Mountain Is a Mouth, available online now from Zunior and in stores Feb. 3. You can also stream it on CBC Radio 3.

Consider their show at Vinyl tomorrow night a sneak peek. Everything I've read about the Bruce Peninsula says "The album's great, but you should see them live." I just might have to. They reinforce the idea that the mightiest instrument is the human voice and I like that. I like it a lot.