I don’t ask much from men; just that they be Dan Mangan.
The Vancouverite brought his charm to the First Baptist Church in Ottawa Oct. 30.
Mangan is coming off quite a year. His 2009 record, Nice, Nice, Very Nice, was shortlisted for the Polaris Prize, and also won independent album of the year, songwriter of the year and roots solo recording of the year at the Western Canadian Music Awards.
“I did not expect to win for even a heartbeat,” he said, reflecting on the night. “Being there was electric.”
These nominations and awards fell between two and a half months of touring Canada, the United States and Europe.
“[On] this tour we’ve played shows to 10 people that were great and we’ve played shows to thousands of people that were great,” he said. “It’s a matter of making each show as special as possible.”
The Ottawa show was the last stop on the tour. Mangan said he’s now returning home for a break before recording a new album in December.
This is probably a good thing for fans, since Vancouver plays an important role in Mangan’s music.
“I wrote so much of the last album being away from home thinking about home, the album inevitably became attached to the city,” he said.
In the bleached basement of the church, Mangan’s charm radiated past the flourescent lighting and off-white walls.
Mangan said he’s used to being in a church. His mother was a minister in the United Church of Canada, and he spent 12 years of his life in that world. He said his critical view of religion doesn’t come from a lack of knowledge, because he knows both the good sides of religion and the harm it can cause.
He said he’s frustrated with the radical sectors of religion, and uses lines like “so find a gun and spin the wheel, try to figure out which god you’ll choose” from his song “Some People” to highlight that.
“It’s not an anti-religion song, it’s an anti-asshole song,” he said. “To have the monopoly on morality is the most hypocritical thing I can think of.”
Mangan is a master at controlling the room with his voice. His singing voice was consuming and frenzied at times. The spirited, wild, nearly violent version of “Some People” nearly brought the church to the ground. But in the softest moments, his voice was muted and tender, echoing in the rafters of the church.
Nice, Nice, Very Nice is also sad, sad, very sad. Mangan said he tried to make the record upbeat, but it’s hard for him to get away from the melancholy.
“Even when I try to sing a pop song, it just ends up being melancholy anyways,” he said. “I’m a pretty easygoing guy. I think I can be happy and even-keel because so much of the melancholy goes into the songs.”
“Some people just like sad music. I like it,” Mangan said. “It’s a matter of universality. Whether it’s being alienated, or bummed out, I don’t think my particular emotions are all that special and unique. I guess I just figure if I feel a certain way, other people should be able to connect.”
Mangan said he doesn’t see himself as a particularly witty guy, but he thinks about humour a lot.
“I’m a person who laughs out. Infusing tongue-in-cheek into songs is natural for me,” he said.
One of Mangan’s more popular songs, “Robots,” received special treatment as audience members dressed up as robots.
Playing a show the day before Halloween lends itself to acts like this, but maybe Mangan’s lyrics have some truth to them: “Robots need love too, they want to be loved by you.”
Mangan said the need to be loved and build relationships plays a role in his music and his personal life. He said that relationships with his parents, his band, his friends and his girlfriend are the biggest influence in his life, which makes him excited to return home.
“You have to let influence in before you can let it out again,” he said.
Mangan said he is humbled by the highlights of his career so far. For the musician, playing to a sold-out Vogue Theatre in Vancouver last May was a highlight for him.
“In life, we live for the goosebumps,” he said. “You want those moments of complete unconsciousness, no worries, no hunger, just living inside those moments. You have to try to create those as much as possible.”
Another momentous moment for the musician was meeting Colin Greenwood of Radiohead at his house in Oxford, U.K., Mangan said.
“I’m amazed by the normalcy of people. We’re all just folks,” Mangan said. “Life’s too short to deal with jerks so why do it. . . We all put one pant-leg on at a time. It would be weird to do it any other way.”
For the encore Mangan marched in the aisles like a crazed priest, dancing on pews and banging on a tambourine as the stage lights bounced off the rafters and back onto the crowd. The audience, now playing the role of congregation, rose to their feet while singing, forming a circle around the band.
I’m not a religious person, but I’ll join Mangan’s church any day.