A Critic's Crisis of Faith: Meghan Trainor's Lackluster Live Show in Toronto

2024 519 Magazine

As a young KISS fan, I eagerly devoured every morsel of information about the band, from their pyrotechnic-laden live shows to their larger-than-life personas. I remember the excitement of saving up my allowance to buy their albums, pouring over the liner notes and imagining what it would be like to witness their legendary performances in person. But as I pored over concert reviews, I was consistently dismayed by the dismissive attitudes of older critics who seemed determined to trash the band at every turn, failing to understand the magic and allure that had captivated me and countless other fans. I made it my goal to try and ultimately understand the concerts I reviewed from the perspective of not just a critic, but a fan as well.

Fast forward several decades, I found myself in the audience at Meghan Trainor’s concert in Toronto on September 28, 2024. As the pop princess took to the stage, kicking off the show with the infectious “Mother,” I couldn’t help but reflect on my own journey as a music lover and the parallels between my experience as a KISS fan and the young Trainor devotees surrounding me. Was I the old critic cringing at what was in front of me?

As the night progressed, it became increasingly apparent that Trainor’s performance relied heavily on pre-recorded elements, with the absence of live musicians and the presence of backing tracks underneath her vocals and for song choruses. This realization left me grappling with the question of what truly constitutes a “concert” in the modern era, echoing the debates that have long surrounded acts known for their elaborate stage productions and larger-than-life personas.

In the absence of live instrumentation, Trainor’s show transformed into a showcase of her undeniable charisma and dance prowess, as she and her troupe of dancers moved in sync to hits like “Lips Are Movin,” “No Excuses,” and “Better When I’m Dancin'”. Yet, the lack of costume changes and the reliance on a single outfit throughout the 90-100 minute set began to wear thin, leaving me longing for the visual dynamism that has long been a hallmark of memorable live performances.

My mind couldn’t help but wander to the previous weekend’s concert by the legendary Beatle Ringo Starr, an artist who, at 84 years old, still managed to deliver a high-energy, two-hour set filled with live music performed by some of the world’s most talented musicians. The contrast was stark, highlighting the generational divide in what constitutes a satisfying live music experience.

Despite my reservations about the nature of Trainor’s performance, I couldn’t deny the power of her music and its ability to resonate with her devoted fanbase. Songs like “Title,” performed with a ukulele, and the emotionally charged “Like I’m Gonna Lose You,” accompanied by a piano, showcased Trainor’s ability to connect with her audience on a deeper level. The arena was filled with young fans who hung on her every word, finding solace and empowerment in her lyrics.

As I looked around at the sea of smiling faces, I was reminded of my own youthful enthusiasm for KISS and the way their music had shaped my identity as a fan. I realized that, just as I had once defended my beloved band against the cynicism of older critics, these young Trainor fans were forging their own musical journeys, finding joy and inspiration in her songs, regardless of the opinions of jaded reviewers like myself.

In that moment, I understood that my role as a critic had evolved. No longer was it my place to dismiss or condemn an artist simply because their performance didn’t align with my preconceived notions of what a “real” concert should be. Instead, my task was to appreciate the connection between an artist and their fans, to recognize the power of music to unite and inspire, even if the delivery may differ from the rock shows of my youth.

As the final notes of “Made You Look” faded away and the house lights came up, I looked around at the ecstatic faces of the young fans who had just experienced something truly special4. They may not have witnessed the live musicianship that I had come to expect from a concert, but they had been a part of something meaningful, a shared moment of joy and celebration that would stay with them for years to come.

Walking out of the Budweiser Stage that night, I felt a newfound appreciation for the diversity of musical experiences and the importance of keeping an open mind. Just as I had once defended KISS against the naysayers, I realized that it was time to embrace the evolving landscape of live music and the artists who were shaping it, even if their approach differed from the rock gods of my youth.

In the end, my journey from wide-eyed KISS fan to seasoned music critic had come full circle. I had learned that the true magic of music lies not in the opinions of reviewers, but in the connections it fosters between artists and their fans. Whether it’s the pyrotechnics of KISS or the dance-driven spectacle of Meghan Trainor, what matters most is the way music touches our hearts and brings us together, transcending generations and genres.

As I reflect on that night in Toronto, I am grateful for the reminder that music’s power lies in its ability to evolve and adapt, to speak to each generation in its own unique way. And while I may never fully embrace the pre-recorded elements of some modern performances, I have come to appreciate the passion and dedication of the fans who find solace and inspiration in the artists they love, just as I once did with KISS. In the end, that is the true essence of what it means to be a music fan, and it is a bond that will continue to unite us, no matter how the landscape of live music may change. No matter how grumpy an old music critic might be.

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