Sunday, July 16, Call The Office, London, Ontario, Canada: If NYC's Girls Against Boys -- popularly known as GVSB -- are selling out and playing the rock star game since signing on to Geffen Records and releasing Freakonica -- as some of their former fans known as "indie-oriented rock critics" would have it -- you sure wouldn't have known it tonight.

So confident was this not really indie-oriented rock critic that the aforementioned sell-out scenario was not the case, I'd decided to take a road trip from Toronto down to this smallish Southern Ontario city so I could catch GVSB's volcanic live show -- one that had blown me away a few years back at Lollapalooza's second stage -- on successive nights. It was strange leaving Toronto's usual seven-day-a-week bustle for a steamy a two-hour drive, only to arrive in London at around 5 p.m. on a Sunday afternoon to find the sweaty streets of this college town nearly deserted, except for a few bored, farm-fed, mostly caucasian teenagers indolently hanging around, seemingly vaguely wishing for something better, something different to come and lift them out of the dull, circumscribed WASP-y world of their parents (one where the Sabbath, apparently, is still holy). Unlike the more jaded multicultural street youth seen in the Big Smoke, these kids affect various takes on what they consider "hip" youth fashion, from hip-hop to goth, and of course get them all very uniquely wrong. Endearing.

Heading over to the to the unassuming venue early to try and score some tix, my partner and I walk in and find it hot and deserted, except for a couple half-asleep staff members and a hot 'n' sweaty looking GVSB unpacking their own equipment from a ratty tour van. Ahhhh yes, life on a major label, indeed. I'm told that tickets will be on sale later, but not to worry, that there's "lots" left. Of course, I then immediately begin to worry -- visions of a near-empty club here in a demographic area probably better target-marketed for the Deep Purple reunion tour dance in my head. Will anyone show up to cheer on NYC's finest?

We then find an air-conditioned Irish pub nearby -- empty of course. A few hours and many pints of beer later, we stagger back over to the venue and then quickly head to an outside patio to try and avoid the remnants of a truly bad set by one Buffalo Daughter -- don't know if they're indie. It's still damn hot -- too hot to get drunk, even though I'm determinedly giving it the old college try.

Finally, at around 9 p.m., the band takes the stage in a semi-packed club -- it ain't Deep Purple, but I guess it beats hanging around with the folks all night watching TV. Brief doubts again flicker through my mind -- what will the now major-label act GVSB make of this bizarre situation? I've seen other bands in similar cirumstances go for the quick kill, playing a few numbers half-heartedly and quickly getting the fuck out, saving their all for the next major market. It quickly becomes apparent, however, that GVSB are no such cold and calculating animals. A titantic sounding swell of bass-driven music begins, and black-clad singer Scott McCloud, exuding the cool of Street Hassle -era Lou Reed, is already dripping sweat. "Check your life span . . . do like ya want," he rasps as the band kicks into Freakonica's "Park Avenue" and is off and running. You can either get into it or get out. GVSB, however, are staying.

There's no room to move up there on that tiny steamy stage, but GVSB rock the joint anyway, Eli Janney risking mikestand self-decapitation as he bobs and weaves over his keyboard like a boxer. Anyone who wasn't converted by the new album might think twice tonight hearing the band rip through raw nihiistic ditties like "Park Avenue," "Psycho Future," "Roxy" and "Black Hole," tunes which seem to encompass some of the more extreme elements of heavy metal, punk, r&b, electronica, goth and (insert your fave rock genre here), yet come out as far more than the sum of their parts -- this is party music for the apocalypse. The crowd draws closer to the stage; their enthusiasm grows. At one point, someone yells out something about catching a bus. "What bus do you have to catch?" McCloud thoughtfully inquires. Thinking I'd let the band know that someone in this strange city might have an idea of who they are, I yell out, "The 'Venus Lux' bus!" (a reference to the band's great 1994 album Venus Luxure No. 1 Baby ). Janney cracks up, leans over to his mike, and affects a hurt expression. "Where were you five years ago?" he asks.

Nevertheless, I get a hyped-up version of that album's dual bass-driven "In Like Flynn" for the encore, as GVSB turn it up to warp speed, a haunted-looking Johnny Temple attacking the bass strings, kinetic drummer Alexis Fleisig as always laying down the rock-solid foundation. A couple more scorchers follow, and then they're gone. Perhaps, as Lou Reed, once sang, someone in this sleepy city's life was changed, "saved by rock and roll," on this night -- perhaps not. But NYC's finest have delivered, leaving a happily wrung-out crowd of small-town Canucks in their wake.

-Johnny Walker (Black)