Max Galactic and the Cloud of Evil

After deciding to spend another night at home, I suddenly changed my mind and decided that this Wednesday would be different. I had gotten some tickets to see a show at Lee's Palace and took the initiative and asked a friend to join me for a show. What was on the agenda for the evening? Max Galactic and the Cloud of Evil! Don't let name fool you; they are anything but evil. I had never heard their music before and after visiting their website I wasn't sure I was going to enjoy the show, as jazz really isn't my think. I have to say that I was, however, pleasantly surprised at how my Wednesday night turned out!
Max Galactic is a great mix of blues, jazz, folk, and rock. They are one of those bands whose style you can't really pinpoint, but whatever it is, it sounds great! As band member Justin Ruppel said, "we pride ourselves on not playing two songs in a row that sound the same, it keeps things more interesting." All the members come from different backgrounds, so there is definitely something for everyone.
A sample of some of the songs they played on October 11th included "Mack the Knife", an awesome cover of the Louis Armstrong hit, "Blind Czar", and "Business in the Graveyard." And lets not forget about Satan, who made a lovely appearance near the end to bring a bit of "evil" back to the clouds of earth! After having my brought my own cynicism with me to the show, I definitely left with a little more evil, and a lot less belief in all things mainstream.
To listen to some songs and learn more about the band, check out their myspace: www.myspace.com/maxgalacticandthecloudofevil

By Andrea Iseman - The Strand

Don't ask me where the wild things are, I don't know. But Max Galactic and the Cloud of Evil might be able to help you - and I'm not just saying that because "Where the Wild Things Are" is the title of their album, I am actually convinced they know (the band's satisfied grins grins on stage are proof they are hiding something). The four quirky lads, led by scruffy nerd-master Nick Gair eschew and mirrors pretension - likely because they are locked in their room practicing their craft all day long. One thing is for sure, each one is an outstanding musician, from the boyish clarinet player to the groovy bassist and even the guest violinist. Put together, their talents lend themelves to a folk-blues make ya wanna tap your feet and scat along pop flavour - and that's exactly what everyone in the crowd (yes, they draw a crowd on a Wednesday night) did: bopped along to the happy music. Strangely enough though, they don't sound at all cheesy - probably because their songs are sprinkled with so much irony and sarcasm that the lyrics take the piss out of themselves. Max Galactic's style (or lack thereof) is especially refreshing amid the banal landscape of Toronto's pretnetious indie music. They have managed to develop a mature but playful sound - heavy guitars layered with banjo and glockenspiels, all led into battle by Gair's gruff but pleasant vocals. They are 2006's indie answer to the Barenaked Ladies. If you go to see these guys live, check your scenester preconceptions at the door and try not to feel guilty as you have a good ol' time. (Now that's wild)

By Nicole Kan - The Newspaper

"Max Galactic are young guys who are pretty sharp at what they're doing at an early place in their development"
"U of T sharp shooters who band together with a surprisingly brilliant fluency"
"They entertain."
- Dan Burke (Promoter and Booker at the Silver Dollar Room) - Dan Burke

CONCERT REVIEW of Lee's Palace Show, October 2006
by Andy Jowitt


What do you get when you cram Monty Python, 1950s sci-fi ray-gun comics, Prohibition-era swing jazz and dark, wounded Chicago blues into the heads of a band of young Torontonians, then blast the lot of them into space to freak out with the aliens?

Something approaching Max Galactic & The Cloud of Evil, that's what.

I say 'something approaching' because I still can't get anywhere near pinpointing what triggered this band into existence. That's not a criticism, mind.

I mean, some bands, normally the inspiration-free zones that are glorified pub-rockers like, say, Razorlight, don't need much explanation. They met in a bar, had the same stupid haircuts and terrible taste, so it was better that they stuck together, if only to keep them away from everyone else.

The Galactic, however, are an entirely different proposition. A band apparently pulling in influences from all over the space-time continuum (influences that sometimes pull back), they cut through jazz, space rock and blues like a jet stream – full on and no let up – while throwing in songs that really wouldn't be amiss on The Muppet Show. Again, not a criticism.

You can't really see where they've come from – or rather, you can't see who managed to sell the idea of forming this band on paper when there must've been a thousand run-of-the-mill indie rock outfits to join.

Special credit, then, to the man with his name on the marquee, Mr. Max Galactic. Tonight he cuts a suitably dashing, er, dash in a classic tuxedo topped off with a sombrero. Clearly, this is a man with some crazy plans that might just work and no small amount of self belief. Like all good comic book heroes, I guess.

I also guess that Max Galatic's special power must be his ability to channel a rumbling, weary baritone straight from somewhere deep in the Delta to whatever planet he's bouncing off.

The set opens with a brief jaunt into space – I'm sure I caught a riff not a million light-years from Shine On You Crazy Diamonds – before it's brought back to Earth, apparently at the nearest speakeasy.

This is where John Williams – described by Max as 'a legend in his own right' – gets his moment in the solar flare. The band's clarinet player – yes, clarinet player – can play. And I mean he can 'play' as in not only can he play all the right notes in the right order, but he can also spin off on dizzying spirals of sound, rising and swooping over a rhythm section that's tighter than Hasselhoff's best leather kecks.

And while the music moves from the cheery-drunk optimism of 'Today' to the crunching, woman-done-me-wrong blues of 'Who's Been Talking', so the band ebbs and flows as extra members come and go – at one point it looks like the stage might not be able to contain The Cloud.

Perhaps the most prominent guest star secured for this evening is Satan himself, who drops in for an energetic on-stage Charleston before settling down to play some banjo. Now you don't get that at a Coldplay gig.

Besides Old Scratch, there's various visiting jazz guitarists, xylophone…er...ers, percussionists, violin players and two swing dancers, who tore up the front row in a blur of spins and twists.

All this for five dollars? They must be crazy. And I think they very well may be. Still, even if they are, there's a charming abandon to their madness and, judging by the impromptu sing-and-dance-along that greeted the lost Muppets tune 'Where The Wild Things Are' (I'm sure that's Animal on backing vocals), they've got plenty of willing space cadets.

So, don't worry about where they've come from or how they got here, or even how their diabolical, crack-pot schemes might get you vaporized. If you get the chance, just enjoy Max Galactic & The Cloud of Evil – coming soon to a planet near you!


- Andy Jowitt's blog