Hayden is so low-key he makes the Cowboy Junkies look like the Spice Girls.
OK, that's a slight exaggeration. Even so, this Toronto-based sensitive singer songwriter is not the kind of performer to which the phrase "brought the crowd to its feet" normally applies. "Compelled the crowd to sit on the floor" is more like it. Or maybe it's just that his latest low-key album, The Closer I Get, is like the musical equivalent of a rainy day spent pondering one's existence.
A critic's darling since he first arrived on the scene in 1994 as a solo act, Hayden plays Monday at the Rev. He'll have a band this time, including former Change of Heart drummer Damon Richardson - "so there's obviously a little bit of edge," Hayden says, almost sneering out the last word.
The 27-year-old former film student tends to take his time with everything - and that includes talking about how he likes to take his time. In a Steven Wright-like laconic drone, Hayden explains how he took more than 13 months to record The Closer I Get. That's even longer than Metallica takes, for Pete's sake. I guess it explains why "Hayden: Where Is He Now?" articles started to appear last year.
Says he, "It wasn't like I was sitting around in studios the whole time doing coke, you know what I mean? I went to different studios, a week to one place, I'd go home and listen, then go somewhere else, go home and live with it for a while again" and so on ... until he got the thing up to his own, admittedly perfectionist standards. He's lucky he had a patient record label willing to indulge him, Outpost Records, an offshoot of Geffen. After his independent debut, Everything I Long For, fell into the right hands, Hayden was the object of a bidding war. Outpost won, not because of money, but because the label let him "maintain how I did things already" - no questions asked.
As you might imagine, Hayden is uncomfortable in the glaring light of fame, which he experienced after his first video earned saturation-level play on MuchMusic.
"It did a bit of a number on me," he admits. "It's hard to explain without sounding like I'm complaining. Most people, I think, would feel it would be a kick being recognized wherever you go. I had that feeling before it happened to me. But when it actually happened, it became annoying and there were times when it was hard to not feel guarded when I walked into a club or whatever and felt that people were looking at me. So I grew my hair. Now I look different, so it's good - until my next video gets played," he heaves an exaggerated sigh. "There's no winning."
BLUES IN THE BIG ONION -- Attention, fans of B.B. King. If you still need a fix of down-home blues rendered by a real McCoy, check out Joe Houston at Blues on Whyte. The 70-year-old performer, who describes himself as "the old honkin' saxophone player from Texas," digs playing Edmonton.
"I like it here," he says. "Last time I was here, I played over there at the Sidetrack. But I like this place Blues on Whyte. The crowd is real motivating. Everybody's down to earth," he laughs, "In other words, they let it all hang out here."
Cover charge is a mere $2 - so you'll have lots left over to "let it all hang out."
