>>PREVIEW
BUCK 65
Tuesday, June 20
Grand Theatre
With a panty-removing voice, cerebrally challenging lyrics and innovative back beats, the creations of Buck 65, a.k.a. Richard Terfry, are habit forming.
From his impromptu use of audience members’ zippers and his i-Pod after his turntables failed to appear at the 2003 folk festival in Calgary, to his current obsession with Canadian poet Al Purdy, the guy’s got chutzpah. Aside from his ability to stretch musical genres and communicate outside the tried and true, he’s a gifted performer with an innate ability to engage and entertain an audience.
He’s also entrancing in conversation and the time zips by as he digresses and expounds on the phone from Paris.
Even though he’s in the middle of an intense touring schedule, he’s enthusiastic about making a stop in Calgary. The demise of the old jazz fest nearly meant cancelling his date here, but after some "on our knees pleas," they were able to rebook in the newly minted Grand Theatre.
His sister, a dental hygienist, lives in Calgary and he makes a smartass remark about getting his teeth cleaned before admitting he’s "eager to take a bite out of it (the Grand)." He’ll also have his trusty baseball glove with him and hopes to sneak in a few trots around the diamond if time permits.
It’s impossible to slide him neatly into one musical category. He plays folk fests and jazz fests, has a smitten college radio following, yet his CDs can be found in the rap and hip hop section in music stores.
"I can’t really help myself. I don’t really fit in anywhere at all," he says.
He’s also a cultural sponge and takes cues from just about every genre there is.
"I’m kind of feeble-minded that way," he jokes, adding he doesn’t turn his nose up at anything. "I can’t think of any music that I don’t like."
His recent album, Secret House Against the World, is reminiscent of vintage Iggy Pop, Tom Waits and maybe even a bit of Johnny Cash (on speed). For the first time, he worked with a live band to create the back music and the result is "organic." Terfry says it was also nerve-racking for him to collaborate with a group of people.
"I basically stripped down naked in front of this room of strangers," he says.
"It was a strange, daunting and scary proposition."
He’s bemused by those who can’t tell it’s a group of real live musicians on the record, not electronically created music.
"I don’t think people realize just how organic it really is," he adds.
Scaring himself witless is how he thrives creatively, including uprooting himself from the comfort of his native Nova Scotia and transplanting himself to Paris.
"It’s a real perversion. I’ve always strived on discomfort. I don’t function well if things get easy for me. I get lazy," he notes.
He’s also his own harshest critic and he has no problem ripping into his own work.
"There’s so much further to go," he insists, even though he’s garnered a fistful of Juno hardware and the critics continue to gush about his music. He says pushing himself is the only way to get better.
"Call it restlessness or a short attention span. I’ve always been the kind of person who throws himself into trouble." |
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