No, Canada’s teen dreams, The Moffatts, were in town to serenade a sold out crowd of 1,760.
Instead of a posh center for Edmonton’s symphony, The Winspear looked like the site of a huge girl school field trip-save fir the odd mother and the father tagging along to Chapter 1.
A few parents couldn’t even sit through the entire two and a half hour concert, either sneaking a quick hit of nicotine or seeking refuge and a glimpse of the Oilers hockey game in the more sedate Founder’s Room.
"The Moffatts are a little beyond my age group," says Laurie Rudkowski, as she sat in the corner of the room, while her 11 year old daughter Candice and others screamed to the songs of Scott, Clint, Bob and Dave Moffatt.
The tonsil exercises began much before the boys appeared. In fact, the girls didn’t need much excuse to start showing off their lung capacities.
They screamed at their friends in the upper balconies draped over the railings. They screamed when the lights when down in the auditorium.
They screamed at the Power 92 radio guy, who was responsible for setting out the concert’s only commandment: Thou shalt not throw teddy bears on stage. "We don’t want to hit The Moffatts," he said.
The brothers managed to get through the concert unscathed. Scott, the 16 year old guitarist and main vocalist, jumped around on stage and did his best Chuck Berry impersonations.
Clint, on of the 15 year old triplets, pogoed around with his bass, Dave-no, Bob, stoically bashed out the drum beats. And Dave for the most part, hid behind his keyboards.
The four kicked off the night with Crazy and then proceeded to go through almost every tune from their first pop CD, Chapter 1: A New Beginning.
The Moffatts also played a few new edgier sings, included on the forthcoming American version of Chapter 1.
Clint may call them edgy, but Until You Loved Me sounded a lot like a Spin Doctors rip-off.
While the Moffatts remained injury-free, their fans weren’t so lucky. I bet a lot of them are nursing sore throats now. At times, their screams partially drowned out the Moffatts tunes, making the lyrics impossible to figure out.
"Weryweahyuhsha," crooned Scott during one number. (He forgot the lyrics)
It wasn’t entirely the girls fault. The boys, particularly Scott and Clint, don’t have strong voices when signing solo. The best, by far, was Dave who refuses to sing through his nose like his brothers.
Alas, the boys aren’t the best musicians either,
Scott is a capable guitarist, but Clint has difficulties keeping his bass time with the drums
And Bob needs to learn more than the boom-bang-bang-crash drum fill.
But to their credit, the brothers are one of the only boy bands that do play their instruments. And they played them for almost two hours. Even 98 degrees, who played here Sunday, couldn’t manage an hour. You can guess which one of the two acts is going to be around for awhile.
As for the opening act, The Boomtang Boys, in a word: sucked. Two of their four songs were covers, including a dance version of Billy Idol’s Dancing With Myself sung by an unidentified women. The two boys also remained a mystery, shrouded in the darkness as they stood behind their synthesizers.
No wonder the duo didn’t want their faces to be seen. Their tow breakdancers were more entertaining than their music.
