In the beginning there was Marissa Pasternoster. The five-foot nuthin’ lead Screaming Female stepped quietly under the spotlight and ripped into a stellar set with a voice two times too large for her stature. Channeling the bold character and delivery of Patti Smith, she grabbed the impatient crowd of nearly 2,000 and zigzagged through the generations of rock that have informed the Females’ sound. Massive Zeppelin-style riffs drove a good portion of their set while other cuts would have fit right in as grunge openers for Nirvana or amped-up pop punk preambles for Weezer circa 1996.
The whole production was laced generously with Pasternoster’s shredding Van Halen-isms that were met with approving ovations and made it impossible to watch anything but her frenzied fingers. With all due respect to drummer Jarrett Dougherty and bassist King Mike, the competent rhythm section was a mere footnote; a support structure on which Pasternoster stood as a bona fide rock star, if only for 45 minutes.
Between gigs, The Dead Weather’s roadies–typically well-dressed for a Jack White affair–took over to prep the main attraction. After 20 minutes the stage of Toronto’s largest small venue lay boldly empty in the face of roars that lived and died between obscure time-filling blues numbers. The crowd, of course, lost their shit when four familiar figures emerged from backstage shadows. Without a wave or even a glance at the crowd they took their places; pausing for only a second to relish a welcome that threatened to burst through the barrier dividing crowd and stage. White’s opening drum cracks dealt instant, irreparable damage to several hundred pairs of eardrums as they launched into the album-lead, “60 Feet Tall.” Dressed in a leopard skin jacket that matched her jungle-cat swagger, singer Alison Mosshart owned the stage, completing several laps before the song’s chorus found her mounted on a monitor, towering arms outstretched like a Valkyrie that knows how to work a crowd.
The signature gyrations and convulsions that characterize Mosshart’s frontwoman duties as a Kill are especially prominent here. With a full band and a headlining-caliber crowd to feed from, however, the hypersexy stage-persona feels far less calculated. She literally could not contain her energy during the show’s calmer stretches; pacing back and forth she itched to unleash her next throaty assault on the mic stand.
“Bone House” presented an ideal opportunity for Mosshart to raise hell. The track sags a bit on Horehound, saved by Mosshart’s ability to inject ferocious attitude into a recording. On stage it’s an absolute beast. She kills the raging climax as its images are etched onto your visual cortex with a seizure-inducing strobe. It took the next two cuts for White to remind everyone that he was still on stage. His “Hang You from the Heavens” drum solo and lead vocals on the “Treat Me Like Your Mother” b-side, “You Just Can’t Win,” were received warmly, to put it lightly. Five tunes in we’d heard from everyone as guitarist Dean Fertita and bassist Jack Lawrence chimed in for the “So Far From Your Weapon” chorus. Fertita, however, didn’t truly reveal himself until his guitar was spitting blues fire on “A Child of a Few Hours is Burning to Death.” The massive riff on this cut–seemingly a live-only original–annihilated any chance of distinguishing Mosshart’s strained vocals. No one seemed to mind.
With a bit of musical chairs on the bluesy, meandering “Will There Be Enough Water?” The Dead Weather closed their opening set nearly an hour after it began. Lawrence took a turn on the stool while White grabbed a guitar and the mic for an exercise in contrast; quiet breakdowns countered turbulent crescendos for the better part of 10 minutes. Two solos were obviously necessary. When Jack White is in your band you can’t go wrong giving him a stretch of distorted notes to bang together.
Several minutes of deafening cheers beckoned the foursome back from their nebulous recluse. The encore began with a violation of Toronto’s strict anti-smoking bylaws as Mosshart sauntered to the mic, lit cigarette in hand, unconcerned. The authorities let it go as the band knocked out their first cover of the evening, a Pentagram track called “Forever My Queen”. It was unquestionably the least interesting entry of the night. The crowd approved nonetheless. “Treat Me Like Your Mother” brought unruly disorder to an otherwise well-behaved crowd as shockwaves ripped through the tightly-packed pit. Fans leaped to a “M-A-N-I-P-U-LATE!” chant that threw surfers in all directions. The condensed sweat of a satisfied crowd literally dripped from the venue ceiling.
A solid execution of Dylan’s “New Pony” and a collective bow concluded the wicked spectacle. Having seen my fair share of White Stripes and Raconteurs shows, the most striking about this performance was the endlessly mesmerizing presence of its lead-lady. It takes serious charisma and showmanship to best the intense aura of The Dead Weather’s drummer, but Mosshart was in uncontested command of a band on top of its game though every ear-splitting moment.
Setlist:
1. 60 Feet Tall
2. Bone House
3. Hang You from the Heavens
4. You Just Can’t Win
5. So Far From Your Weapon
6. I Cut Like a Buffalo
7. A Child of a Few Hours is Burning to Death
8. Rocking Horse
9. No Hassle Night
10. Will There Be Enough Water?
Encore:
11. Forever My Queen (Pentagram Cover)
12. Treat Me Like Your Mother
13. New Pony
by Brady Baker
[Photos: 
