Chixdiggit and The Model Rockets

Club Congress, 11/3/96

I was so wrong about Canadian music. See... I used to think the whole concept was an oxymoron. Our neighbors up North have long been torturing American listeners with the likes of Rush, Alanis, and Corey Hart. Now I realize what a fool I was, as Chixdiggit has shown me the way.

At the heart of the popular lore about Chixdiggit is a very strange creation myth: supposedly, and I don't know if this is true or not, they weren't even a real band until their T-shirts started selling well around their native Alberta. They used the cash from the clothing sales to buy instruments and eventually got around to writing music. Sort of.

They don't really write music so much as stage banter. Say what you want about Cananda's musical sensibilities, but you've gotta admit, those darn Canucks know their comedy. What other country could give us Michael J. Fox and the Kids in the Hall? They have an excellent appreciation for good-natured irony, and Chixdiggit is no exception.

All in all, it was a rather odd show. The Model Rockets opened and confirmed that there is Seattle music that isn't grunge or angst- ridden. They rely more on the poppy, silly music school run by The Young Fresh Fellows than the fuzzed-out rumble of Mudhoney. More Byrds than Led Zeppelin and more fun than a sharp stick in the eye, The Model Rockets combine punk rock and soaring vocal harmonies to... nothing. They don't do it for any higher purpose, but they sure do look like they're enjoying themselves. The bassist has the lowest hung instrument I've ever seen. I dunno about you, but I think that's pretty cool.

And it's all about that, man. I can't say much for their musicianship, but Chixdiggit made up for their lack of chops with pure entertainment value. I can only assume that they honed their skills playing for disinterested audiences spread far across Canada's vast tundra wasteland. They look like they're having the time of their lives touring the U.S.

"Tucson, you are the best rock 'n' roll town we've been to yet!" announced singer/guitarist KJ Jansen. You get the feeling that he says that every night. But I bet he means it every night, too.

Individuals were singled out for good-natured abuse, including Wildcat photographer Chris Richards as he frantically tried to document the event. Everyone was fair game... Henry Rollins, some drunk heckler named Michael, the staff of Congress, John Dillinger... and especially the girls in the front row. You know that KJ got some on Sunday night - he cleverly managed to work his room number into one of his spontaneous outbursts. Now that's class.

It was nice to be pleasantly surprised at a show... shocking even. Unlike other venues in this town, admission was only two bucks and beer was only a buck till midnight. I don't think anyone left Congress without a smile on their face. Hell, most of the small crowd probably didn't leave at all - just spent the night hangin' with our new friends from way up north. The next day, it was off to Nogales on an endless punk rock adventure. KJ took special care to invite us all along, and he said he'd buy the chips and salsa.

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