The Unicorns

When the red velvet curtains slid open on the Southpaw stage, I was surprised to see three men adorned in pink and white tuxedos. I knew from listening to the Unicorns’ album, Who Will Cut Our Hair When We’re Gone?, to expect something out of the ordinary, and their wacky matching outfits confirmed that their live performance would be just as quirky.

I was in good spirits, expecting to be fully entertained. The Unicorns’ music is a happy mix—electronic keyboards, jangly guitar, an undercurrent of bass, upbeat drums by Jamie Thompson and two diverse vocal harmonies that work really well together as foils—one, Alden Ginger, serious and melodic like Radiohead’s Thom Yorke, the other, Nicholas Diamonds, looser and squeaky like Ween on “Push Th’ Little Daisies”. The unlikely combination blends well with the music, both melodic and knee-bending, just works in its own odd way.

What I found disconcerting was the fact that Alden never cracked a smile throughout the entire set. That kind of stage presence seemed to contradict everything the Unicorns previously led me to preconceive. I was both baffled and intrigued. I was liking it.

The band really won me over when they played “Inoculate the Innocuous”, a song that had that retro ‘80s feel where guitars and keyboards meshed into one melting sound. It was both beautiful in sound and ridiculous in lyrics. I fell into it all.

This Canadian trio live in their own fantasy land, complete with ghosts, jellybones and unicorns. Songs like their ghost trilogy—“Tuff Ghost”, “Ghost Mountain” and “Sea Ghost”—demonstrate the band’s ability to suspend reality and paint an imaginary world. Sometimes I feel like I’m listening to the soundtrack of a wacky indie video game directed by Michael Gondry. “Sea Ghost”, in particular, is catchy as hell with a silly, go-lucky guitar riff that draws me in. The fluid vocals make me want to swivel my hips and sing along, even if the lyrics are admittedly a little on the goofy side.

And just as I’m beginning to enjoy the Unicorns in all their quirky glory, their shtick becomes thicker. Their “grody roadie” comes traipsing out onto the stage with a unicorn head ornament and tail. At first I thought he was quite funny. I giggled when The Unicorn started throwing condoms into the crowd and my friend yelled, “The Unicorn is HORNY.” I get the joke, but every joke eventually becomes tired, especially when it starts spitting beer all over the place and yelling for everyone to start partying hard. Then the joke gets pathetic when The Unicorn strips his pink “We Ragazzi Loves Me” tee and bumbles and cavorts around the stage even further. The stage prop was greedy for the spotlight and eventually subtracted from the Unicorns’ overall performance. They should have waited to pull him out for their last few songs so that the joke didn’t get old.

The stage antics didn’t make me hate the band though. Their music is still self-aware of its silly structures and full of sass, a charming combination that won my affections. C’mon, they’re the Unicorns, and they’re delightful musicians, too.