Steam shoots up from a subway vent in the ground as I dash across a darkened street, the Velvet Underground finally in sight. Above the entrance, a sign reads “SUNROOM.”
I know I am in the right place.
For late October, it’s not as cold as it should be, but I am overly bundled up, still traumatized from the queuing experience for Inhaler last March. Unfortunately, that means I am covered in sweat and wishing for any sense of reprieve. The brisk pace my companion and I have set on our trek across Toronto’s downtown core isn’t helping, never mind the bucketload of train station Chinese food I scarfed down during my rush to leave Union. If all of this couldn’t get worse, my left heel is being ripped up by my high-top Converse, leaving what I know is going to be a gnarly blister.
So it’s safe to say that, in this moment, the beaming light emanating from the Velvet Underground’s marquee is like the shining light of Heaven.
By the time we arrive, the line of people shuffling towards the door isn’t very long, which feels like a blessing. I am desperate to take my sticky arms out of my sweaty coat. Following an intense scrutiny of my driver’s licence, an in-depth bag search and a full body metal detector scan, we are finally through the doors.
Of the many small music venues I’ve been to in Toronto, I’ve never stepped foot inside the Velvet Underground before and to my surprise, it’s smaller than I expected. It’s just over half the capacity of The Axis Club, the venue Sunroom played last, and the energy of the small crowd overtakes the whole space.
It’s easy to get lost in the restless crowd, so I push my body against the cool brick wall and allow myself to breathe for the first time since we left Union Station. This moment of respite doesn’t last very long though, as before I know it, the opener is taking the stage.
West 22nd, an indie rock group from Texas, is locked and loaded for what turns out to be an incredibly impressive set. With only 30 minutes to sway the large group of people standing in front of them, they give their everything to the crowd, dancing and singing their hearts out. Each of the five boys who make up the band looks just as excited to be playing for the crowd as the crowd is excited to see them play. Their genuine charm and warmth win the crowd over, forging a relationship that likely won’t be broken. By the end of their set, the only t-shirts they have left to sell are a handful of XLs and even those are gone by the time Sunroom takes the stage.
The energy fizzles between sets as people wait impatiently for the show to go on. It is clear that West 22nd put on such a great set that the crowd is clamouring for more, itching to dance and sing and let loose. Yet when Sunroom finally takes the stage, it feels like something is missing.
While the fans are here to hear music and not see a comedy show, the band’s lack of communication with the crowd almost dulls the lively nature of those gathered by the stage, especially considering how much of it West 22nd managed to muster up. There is no doubt the band sounds good live, playing crowd favourites alongside new hits. Yet, when all is said and done, Sunroom fell flat emotionally, failing to bring their fans along with them on the journey through their setlist.
As the encore concludes, I’m yawning. It’s far past my bedtime and I’m ready for a breath of fresh air. While the show wasn’t necessarily a bad one, there is a clear divide between the energy created by West 22nd and that of Sunroom.
While there is no denying that I still love Sunroom, I wear my West 22nd shirt proudly as I walk out the door of the Velvet Underground, bracing myself for a chilly walk back to Union Station.