(Toronto) When I go to a show and see four healthy guys, under 30 with normal hair and no beards take the stage, I get nervous. Call me old fashioned, but I want musicians to look like musicians. Hung-over, starving, smelly, emancipated, musicians with blood shot eyes. When Run With The Kittens took the stage at the Roundhouse, they looked like they just came from a spaghetti dinner at their parents place. Yes, a spaghetti dinner where their parents forced them to dress up like Gold Dust and groom each other.
From what I witnessed on Friday night, I would summarize Run With The Kittens as Los Straitjackets meets High School Musical, meets Wolf Parade meets Ice Capades. There is no doubt that they played hard and that they know how to rock out. After the Kittens rocked out for a while, they slowed it down, made funny faces at the camera men, then they yelled and rocked out some more.
I left the show feeling somewhat confused, kind of like the first time I saw Cirque Du Soleil. What did I just witness? I didn’t feel the urge to run to the back to buy one of their CD’s, but on the other hand, I now feel compelled to check out their weekly Tuesday night show at the Cameron House.
I’d see them again. I think?
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