By Divine Right

Last Wednesday night at The Dakota Tavern By Divine Right reaffirmed their position as one of the most important artists involved in the formation of the mid-90s Canadian indie rock sound. Also reaffirmed was the disdain I have for my mother for not birthing me in time to be a part of it.

The band didn't start until after 1am, following a familial night of frontman Jose Contrera and his wife Lily Frosts performance together, her solo project, and finally By Divine Right themselves (with Lily joining in for a few songs). They effortlessly blew through about 15
songs (including a Led Zeppelin cover) from catchy pop numbers to guitar heavy noise rock.

Despite The Dakota not being as packed as it should've been (where were you people?) those who were there seemed to be a part of a little cult, shouting out the words to almost every song. Is it possible to feel nostalgic for something you were too young to remember?

Former members of By Divine Right now make up some of my favourite bands (Broken Social Scene, Meligrove Band, Wintersleep, Golden Dogs) and that could very well explain the nostalgia for something I never really knew.

("What? Broken Social Scene didn't invent this sound?!"- my brain). So, thanks By Divine Right for paving the way for a ton of great Canadian artists. Finally I get it: 20 years later, By Divine Right don't just still "have it" they are it.

Setlist: (or something like it)

MALL SANTA
QUE PASO?
FIGURE ME OUT
KISS MY CHAKRAS
THE SLAP
MORE TORNS
COME FOR A RIDE
TWISTED CRYSTALINE
MOUNTAINS FRIEND
NO ONE CAN FIX ME
POWER SUIT
L.D.S.C.
MUTANT MESSAGE
5 DOLLARS" - blogTO

Last Wednesday night at The Dakota Tavern By Divine Right reaffirmed their position as one of the most important artists involved in the formation of the mid-90s Canadian indie rock sound. Also reaffirmed was the disdain I have for my mother for not birthing me in time to be a part of it.

The band didn't start until after 1am, following a familial night of frontman Jose Contrera and his wife Lily Frosts performance together, her solo project, and finally By Divine Right themselves (with Lily joining in for a few songs). They effortlessly blew through about 15
songs (including a Led Zeppelin cover) from catchy pop numbers to guitar heavy noise rock.

Despite The Dakota not being as packed as it should've been (where were you people?) those who were there seemed to be a part of a little cult, shouting out the words to almost every song. Is it possible to feel nostalgic for something you were too young to remember?

Former members of By Divine Right now make up some of my favourite bands (Broken Social Scene, Meligrove Band, Wintersleep, Golden Dogs) and that could very well explain the nostalgia for something I never really knew.

("What? Broken Social Scene didn't invent this sound?!"- my brain). So, thanks By Divine Right for paving the way for a ton of great Canadian artists. Finally I get it: 20 years later, By Divine Right don't just still "have it" they are it.

Setlist: (or something like it)

MALL SANTA
QUE PASO?
FIGURE ME OUT
KISS MY CHAKRAS
THE SLAP
MORE TORNS
COME FOR A RIDE
TWISTED CRYSTALINE
MOUNTAINS FRIEND
NO ONE CAN FIX ME
POWER SUIT
L.D.S.C.
MUTANT MESSAGE
5 DOLLARS" - blogTO

If Jose Miguel Contreras were to host a reunion concert for all the musicians that have ever played with him in his band By Divine Right, he’d need an extremely large stage. Over the past 20 years, 28 members have come and gone — among them Leslie Feist and members of Broken Social Scene, Holy F--k and Wintersleep — with Contreras as the sole constant. In a sense, the singer, songwriter and guitarist has become a one-man school of indie rock.

“I’ve turned into Yoda,” he laughs. The tousle-haired Contreras, who looks younger than his 40 years, is regarded as a venerable font of wisdom by a new generation of fans and what he calls “nerdy musician types.”

Contreras shrugs at his newfound status: “Maybe I’m just an example of someone who’s semi-functional and can somehow marry a beautiful woman” — his wife is graceful singer/songwriter Lily Frost — “and make records.” But there’s more to him than functionality and good luck in love. Half a lifetime spent in cramped vans and playing gigs in grimy clubs hasn’t dampened his obvious enthusiasm, and his music, which marries power pop to psychedelic rock, is getting even stronger. His new album, Mutant Message (released today by Hand-Drawn Dracula), is a compact, potent collection of punchy hooks delivered with devil-may-care energy.

Contreras writes all the songs; for all of his willingness to take on collaborators, he’s something of an individualist. “I hate scenes,” he offers, sipping a glass of shiraz in the cocktail lounge of Toronto’s comfortably posh Windsor Arms hotel — a favourite of his and Frost’s, and the antithesis of a hipster haunt. By Divine Right, he says, has been “a weird fit with the outside world” ever since he and his friend Rob Covens started the band in 1989 as “two suburban stoners goofin’ around” in Thornhill, Ont. Shortly after they recorded their first self-titled cassette, Covens decided he would rather be the band’s manager — and thus he became By Divine Right’s very first ex-member.

Several lean years followed, as Contreras toured the country with a revolving cast, “I always had a list [of musicians] in my head,” he says. “I’ve already been rehearsing with people while having other people in the band — getting ready to move on. And I don’t mean it in a bad way, like I’m clandestinely cheating behind someone’s back. Every time someone’s left my band, I’ve felt really good about it — I’m excited for anyone who’s going to make a change in their life.”

As musicians came and went, fans stayed the course and were keen to help spread the word. One of these was Broken Social Scene co-founder Brendan Canning; his band at the time, hHead, took By Divine Right on a cross-country tour in 1997 when they couldn’t afford the expense of a van; shortly thereafter, he began to play bass with Contreras. In 1999, Gord Downie, another supporter, invited By Divine Right to open for The Tragically Hip on an arena tour.

By that time, Canning had left, changed his mind, and joined again, and Leslie Feist was the rhythm guitarist. (“Everything that she is now she was then,” says Contreras. “It just took everyone else five years to find out.”) Despite a healthy buzz, the “weird little art band” never vaulted to stardom, and by the end of the year, the lineup had fallen apart.

Contreras, ever-resourceful, recruited a new one, and some concerts in 2000 and 2001 featured 10 people onstage, pioneering mass indie-rock gatherings before Broken Social Scene and The Hidden Cameras popularized them. “Every show ended with gear all over the stage and people all over the club and a 20-minute freak-out jam,” Contreras recalls. “It was just madness.”

After 2004’s somewhat bloated Sweet Confusion, even Contreras needed a rest. He and Frost moved from “party central” in Toronto to a forest in the Niagara Escarpment, and Contreras set By Divine Right aside for other projects — producing other artists’ albums and raising a son.

His label had collapsed; his manager had move - The National Post

If Jose Miguel Contreras were to host a reunion concert for all the musicians that have ever played with him in his band By Divine Right, he’d need an extremely large stage. Over the past 20 years, 28 members have come and gone — among them Leslie Feist and members of Broken Social Scene, Holy F--k and Wintersleep — with Contreras as the sole constant. In a sense, the singer, songwriter and guitarist has become a one-man school of indie rock.

“I’ve turned into Yoda,” he laughs. The tousle-haired Contreras, who looks younger than his 40 years, is regarded as a venerable font of wisdom by a new generation of fans and what he calls “nerdy musician types.”

Contreras shrugs at his newfound status: “Maybe I’m just an example of someone who’s semi-functional and can somehow marry a beautiful woman” — his wife is graceful singer/songwriter Lily Frost — “and make records.” But there’s more to him than functionality and good luck in love. Half a lifetime spent in cramped vans and playing gigs in grimy clubs hasn’t dampened his obvious enthusiasm, and his music, which marries power pop to psychedelic rock, is getting even stronger. His new album, Mutant Message (released today by Hand-Drawn Dracula), is a compact, potent collection of punchy hooks delivered with devil-may-care energy.

Contreras writes all the songs; for all of his willingness to take on collaborators, he’s something of an individualist. “I hate scenes,” he offers, sipping a glass of shiraz in the cocktail lounge of Toronto’s comfortably posh Windsor Arms hotel — a favourite of his and Frost’s, and the antithesis of a hipster haunt. By Divine Right, he says, has been “a weird fit with the outside world” ever since he and his friend Rob Covens started the band in 1989 as “two suburban stoners goofin’ around” in Thornhill, Ont. Shortly after they recorded their first self-titled cassette, Covens decided he would rather be the band’s manager — and thus he became By Divine Right’s very first ex-member.

Several lean years followed, as Contreras toured the country with a revolving cast, “I always had a list [of musicians] in my head,” he says. “I’ve already been rehearsing with people while having other people in the band — getting ready to move on. And I don’t mean it in a bad way, like I’m clandestinely cheating behind someone’s back. Every time someone’s left my band, I’ve felt really good about it — I’m excited for anyone who’s going to make a change in their life.”

As musicians came and went, fans stayed the course and were keen to help spread the word. One of these was Broken Social Scene co-founder Brendan Canning; his band at the time, hHead, took By Divine Right on a cross-country tour in 1997 when they couldn’t afford the expense of a van; shortly thereafter, he began to play bass with Contreras. In 1999, Gord Downie, another supporter, invited By Divine Right to open for The Tragically Hip on an arena tour.

By that time, Canning had left, changed his mind, and joined again, and Leslie Feist was the rhythm guitarist. (“Everything that she is now she was then,” says Contreras. “It just took everyone else five years to find out.”) Despite a healthy buzz, the “weird little art band” never vaulted to stardom, and by the end of the year, the lineup had fallen apart.

Contreras, ever-resourceful, recruited a new one, and some concerts in 2000 and 2001 featured 10 people onstage, pioneering mass indie-rock gatherings before Broken Social Scene and The Hidden Cameras popularized them. “Every show ended with gear all over the stage and people all over the club and a 20-minute freak-out jam,” Contreras recalls. “It was just madness.”

After 2004’s somewhat bloated Sweet Confusion, even Contreras needed a rest. He and Frost moved from “party central” in Toronto to a forest in the Niagara Escarpment, and Contreras set By Divine Right aside for other projects — producing other artists’ albums and raising a son.

His label had collapsed; his manager had move - The National Post