Photo by Max Mertens

It’s 2:30 in the morning and the man on the L train wants to play us Neil Young’s “Old Man.” He’s probably in his mid-forties, with a scraggly beard, and a weathered acoustic guitar slung over his back. The rest of the train’s patrons ignore him, so he turns his attention to me, perhaps sensing that I’m a Canadian (despite wearing a plaid shirt and scuffed boat shoes that could have me pass for any other Brooklyn hipster) and a tourist (despite not wearing an obnoxious New York City-themed item of clothing, clutching a map or carrying a suitcase). I offer the man a half-hearted “I have no spare change” shrug and he moves on to the next car.

You might remember the cover story that ran in The Grid a few months ago asking, “Is Toronto the greatest music city in the world?” or the various well-written responses to the piece? The gist of the conversation was whether or not Toronto was a better city for music than, say, New York, London or another Canadian city, and how one would even go about quantifying that statement. I was reminded me of something a friend once told me: “If Toronto was a high school at a track meet, it would be the high school that would try really hard, but still finish in second place to New York and Chicago. Montreal would be the school that would attend to skip class and then go off and smoke pot in the woods.” The one thing the writers seemed to agree on is that Toronto suffers needlessly from an inferiority complex when it comes to music.

In his essay, “Can New York Save Itself,” American author and humour columnist Dave Barry travels to NYC to write about the city after The New York Times ran a story about Miami’s problems with crime, drugs, and political corruption. In a light-hearted and not-at-all serious way, I wanted to take a look at New York’s music scene from the perspective of an outsider. Let’s get one thing straight: it’s impossible to rank cities against each other when it comes to music. Declaring Toronto a better music city than New York is like declaring apples are better than oranges or pie is better than cake. As someone who has lived, attended shows, and written about music in Toronto for the past four years–not to mention having spent time in Halifax and Montreal–I wanted to visit and observe this sprawling metropolis that has been home to the birthplace of hip-hop, CBGB and the ‘70s NYC punk scene, and the garage-rock revival of the early-2000s, to name just a few musical movements. The primary reason for this trip would be attending the Governors Ball NYC Music Festival, a two day music festival somewhat confusingly located on Randall’s Island (not Governors Island), overlooking the East River. While the first day’s lineup skewed towards dance music, electro-pop, and a decidedly younger crowd, Sunday’s lineup could have been mistaken for the first stage of a music festival in 1997 (Beck, Fiona Apple, Modest Mouse) with a few up-and-coming bands thrown in for good measure (Cults, Phantogram).

There is no shortage of music festivals in New York. Whether you’re into post-dubstep, industrial R&B, seapunk, or some other genre that doesn’t have a ludicrous name yet, there’s something for everyone in the five boroughs. This is especially true in the summer, when every square inch of public space (including museums) in the city is utilized for outdoor concerts, film screenings, and festivals that draw top local, national, and international acts. This is not meant as a slight against Toronto―look no further than festivals such as Afrocentric, NXNE, Toronto Jazz Fest, Wavelength (this year’s ALL CAPS! Island Festival features its biggest and best lineup yet), etc., as testament to our city’s musicial diversity―but there’s always room for improvement. For example, while attending Governors Ball, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the short-lived Virgin Festival on Toronto Island. One of the most frequent complaints about Toronto’s music scene is the lack of single or multi-day festivals at one venue. Montreal has Osheaga, which features headlining performances this year from The Black Keys, Justice, and Snoop Dogg, while Chicago’s Grant Park is home to Lollapalooza that same weekend. Toronto has the room to accomodate a festival of similar scale, but the promoters and sponsors have to be there. Past the beer tents and food trucks serving up lobster rolls, waffles, and the requisite Korean tacos (delicious), Governors Ball had two stages, one sponsored by Honda and the other by MP3 blog aggregator The Hype Machine. Attendees could clearly see who had shelled out the big bucks to have their name attached to the festival, but it wasn’t overly obnoxious. A relaxed attitude towards security (the only scuffle I witnessed was one overzealous male fan that wanted to get just a little too close to the stage during Beck’s set) and open alcohol were also pluses–while there was a VIP section, you weren’t relegated to a certain area just because you wanted to enjoy a cold one. In fact, there was a booth selling beer (and Red Bull for the under-21 crowd) directly in front of the Honda emblazoned stage. While taking the subway to Randall’s Island, I met three New York natives who happened to be volunteering at this booth for the weekend. They told me that half the proceeds from sales went towards a charity that supported art programs in underprivileged high schools in NYC. Knowing this made it a little bit easy to justify shelling out ten bucks for a can of Foster’s. That all said, the music was pretty fantastic too. Some of the highlights: Cults getting a hometown heroes’ welcome, Devendra Banhart’s mellow psychedelic folk rock tunes in the afternoon sunshine, Fiona Apple giving the crowd ‘90s flashbacks with “Criminal” (and displaying some dance moves that would put Thom Yorke to shame), Modest Mouse playing a hits-packed set, and Beck sending everyone home to “E-Pro” as the clouds finally broke and drenched everybody in a warm summer rain. 

The radio station at the midtown convenience store is playing Nickelback. It turns out that even in one of the biggest cities in the world, you can’t escape Chad Kroeger’s voice and the pride of Hanna, Alberta. Luckily for music fans south of the border, Nickelback aren’t the only Canadian musical export that’s made their way to New York this week. While I’m in town, Vancouver duo Japandroids play two sold-out shows at medium-sized venues Bowery Ballroom and Williamsburg Music Hall. The band’s sophomore album, Celebration Rock, even debuted on NPR – American radio. I test my friend that I’m staying with, a fellow music writer, on new Canadian acts over the course of my visit. She’s a huge fan of Japandroids’ opening act, Edmonton-born, Montreal-based rapper Cadence Weapon, and Earmilk (the site she serves as an editor for) has featured up-and-comers like BADBADNOTGOOD, Doldrums, Nautiluss, and Purity Ring. Most Americans that I talk to know which city Drake comes from, but after that, their grasp of Canadian geography and which artists hail from where grows slippery. Maybe there’s something to be learned from these occasional bouts of ignorance though. Instead of competing with other each other when it comes to which city produces the best artists, has the best venues, festivals, etc., maybe we should spend a bit more time praising the collective Canadian musical identity? Even if it does include Nickelback.

“Do you know who that is? That’s Todd P!” It’s Saturday night and I’m standing with my friend outside the Glasslands Gallery in the Brooklyn neighbourhood of Williamsburg. I tell her of course I’ve heard of him. Now in his late-thirties, Todd P (née Patrick) is one of the most well-known show organizers and music promoters in New York’s indie rock community since he started in 2001. Some of the bands that have played his shows include Animal Collective, Dirty Projectors, Japanther, and Matt & Kim. He was the subject of a 2009 documentary, Todd P Goes To Austin, and this year hosted his own festival in Monterrey, Mexico, which featured performances from Girls, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, and Montreal weirdo pop darling Grimes. The closest Toronto equivalent to Patrick would probably be someone like Silver Dollar booker Dan Burke, though that might be a bit of a stretch. There’s nothing remarkable-looking about Glasslands or 285 Kent, the music venue next door where Brooklyn’s Next Big Thing DIIV are playing tonight. The area is a sprawl of abandoned warehouses, bodegas, and the cheapest apartments money can buy you in New York (so long as you don’t mind stealing your Internet from the neighbours). From what I can tell, the episode of Girls where one of the main characters does crack at a party in Bushwick (disclaimer: I haven’t seen the series), is grossly exaggerated. While it’s no Upper West Side, Williamsburg is rapidly gentrifying, which is something AlterNet’s Julianne Escobedo Shepherd mentions in her critique of the show. Inside Glasslands, apathetic bartenders served $4 cans of Rolling Rock and twenty-somethings dance to a DJ set from a guy playing songs off his MacBook. It might not look anything special, but for the regulars that come here two, three, maybe more nights a week, it is the Centre of the Universe. Like a Saturday night at Sneaky Dee’s, the standard uniform was skinny jeans and button-up shirts for guys, sundresses and rompers for girls, and tattooes for all. They’re here to forget about their crappy jobs, massive student loans, and ridiculous rents, drink with friends, listen to good music, and if they’re lucky, find somebody that makes them not feel so lonely in the urban sprawl. Which come to think of it, sounds a lot like Toronto. Maybe these two cities aren’t that different after all.

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Max Mertens is still looking for someone to pay for his U.S. work visa so he can live and write in New York one day. Follow him on Twitter at @Max_Mertens.

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