Casey Mecija takes the stage. Her beautiful voice, heartfelt, fills the room. The sounds, very Obijou. Has she stepped outside of that wondrous zone of comfort? As we move through the waves of broken space and recycled air, we claim a better vantage point. Backing from a (former/current) member of the Acorn, and the we all get excited. Breakdowns towards the end of the set get incredible.
Together they create a nice balance like eggs on a Sunday. At this moment, and along with the bouts of awkward banter, it becomes obvious that Mecija almost needs someone else on stage, or at the very least, prefers it that way. She's more comfortable now - but the awkward stories, more enduring than anything else, continue.
The set, amazing though plagued, is at times lost to problems with the venue - the ambient noise is too loud, dampening her sound. Too many disinterested, still hanging out. And only really noticeable with lower volume acts, a problem with curtains separating bar and back room make for a very friendly divide when what at times may be needed is more of an iron wall. Regardless, Mecija's voice is beautiful as always.
At this point girlfriend orders a beer, dislikes and gets sick. Girlfriend leaves, assures me that shes okay.
Fun night.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
A view from the stairs (balcony, no stairs really)
Of darkness at night, and waking before the sun. I write because I see, see because I feel - and right now I could probably really use a coffee.
Kate Stelmanis plays the Mod Club March 24th with the Big Pink. I am excited. She has this downtrodden Dreijer Andersson feel, singing about harsh relations and sexual tension over a super computer meltdown. Slo-motion 1991 like playing Super Spike Volleyball on acid.
Oh and I kind of dig the Big Pink too.
- Work awaits!
Stelmanis:
http://www.myspace.com/katiestelmanis
Kate Stelmanis plays the Mod Club March 24th with the Big Pink. I am excited. She has this downtrodden Dreijer Andersson feel, singing about harsh relations and sexual tension over a super computer meltdown. Slo-motion 1991 like playing Super Spike Volleyball on acid.
Oh and I kind of dig the Big Pink too.
- Work awaits!
Stelmanis:
http://www.myspace.com/katiestelmanis
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Study from outside the room
So Mark calls me up and says "there's a show tonight, lets go"
To which I reply "who's playing"
And he says "Who cares, I need to get out - plus I think I heard Little Girls will be there."
"Okay."
----------
Little Girls and Trust both played great sets. Though the former had some issues with feedback causing some of the audience to bleed from the ears. It got kind of messy. But before the disaster that was the blood-soaked and beer-spilled floors, I noticed a few things - here are my observations:
The interesting thing about this show is that we just miss the first act completely. It was a guy playing under the pseudonym Tezeta and the miss is unfortunate, because a friend who had caught the set lets me know how amazing it was (and I'm listening to his music right now - completely true, I'm sure). But that all brings me to my point - the dichotomy of the two acts that I actually sit through (we sit along the unused bar, leaning back with only a sheet of glass between us and an unfortunate fall to Bathurst St.). This is something that could have just as easily been planned as I assume it was not. One represents the old; the other the new. Both are (relatively) new, and in representation, very old. The order they play in contributes to this, with hints of decades passed sandwiching the middle with the now. [This probably is all coming across as something so very esoteric - or that I'm simply failing in 'getting to the point' - but you're wrong, it's needed.] It is a timewarp taking place in this sweaty bar, and as we all drink our demons, we we're transcending.
Trust delivers a vibe that Mark aptly describes as Joy Order. As the insane lasers penetrate the bodies in the room, flashing red, white and green, they transform us all into something else; the music beats at our souls. The female drummer punches and kicks out the sounds of a precisely programmed beat - while she adds something innately human to it. This, overlayed by the singer [he gave me his name; his name escapes me] plays the droning rhythm and catchy melody, a pop-electric-gothic brigade of awesome. We dig it. The notes stem and reach across the room; gently float from a machine box (was that an MPC?) while he sings about loss, use and abuse. Wholesome sentiments. The music is upbeat. The vocals carry a very Curtis bop and the monotonous hum of everyone favourite (dead) hero. Downtrodden. It was a good dose of expected irony.
Then break. Drinks. Stairs. Cigarette. Stairs. Drinks. GO.
The band starts to play. The bass player sings. Josh McIntyre materializes from behind a plywood door. Adorned in denim and with a beer in hand he grabs his $20 microphone to let out his tortured soul [or so it seems - McIntyre is a really nice guy, then again nice guys hurt too]. The energy here is amazing. The crowd is happy (and inebriated, they've timed this well). The NOW-proscribed "fuzz pop" fills our ears (I really thinks its got more of a 'buzz rock' vibe myself) and we all sway in unison (I wish). This now takes us back further in the ages, as for reference, and the invocation of Curtis' spirit fills my heart. Aesthetically they are far different, but the early punk compositions, sharp spikes in volume and the road between calm drone/loss of control scream is playfully crossed again and again. This is (maybe) what Joy Division would have sounded like if they had made it across the Atlantic all those years ago. If they hadn't degraded into that horrific trio in the wake of their loss of a much needed leader - the vision. McIntyre plays his new stuff, which I'm not so much a fan of; we leave and get Chinese food, which my stomach is not entirely too thrilled about.
------
So you see, the 80s and 70s were there with us that night in early 2010. It was exciting. But so much more than cheap references, these guys each have their own unique style. They both bring additional elements into their work (grindcore, chickenhouse, monsterfolk, electrofuck). And maybe I just made those all up. Maybe we should stop trying to classify music and just fucking enjoy it. Maybe you should get back on the dancefloor, critic.
Oh none of this has anything to do with the photo: I took it one night while Nat (@nataliesees) did dishes. She did not know she was being photographed, I just had the lighting perfect and the right positioning. I'm thinking I might just develop this series into something.
None of this has to do with the bands or the photo: If you're the bitch that stepped on my foot last night without so much as a concerned look or apology - fuck you. I had every right to be upset, and you are just a stuck up bitch who felt embarrassed. Well good. It's the next day and you are still a stuck up bitch. And while that whole situation doesn't exactly make me an asshole - I may very well be one for other reasons. ;)
The band we missed:
http://www.myspace.com/josephvaroth
The band we loved:
http://www.myspace.com/trst
The band we came to see:
http://www.myspace.com/littlelittlegirls
To which I reply "who's playing"
And he says "Who cares, I need to get out - plus I think I heard Little Girls will be there."
"Okay."
----------
Little Girls and Trust both played great sets. Though the former had some issues with feedback causing some of the audience to bleed from the ears. It got kind of messy. But before the disaster that was the blood-soaked and beer-spilled floors, I noticed a few things - here are my observations:
The interesting thing about this show is that we just miss the first act completely. It was a guy playing under the pseudonym Tezeta and the miss is unfortunate, because a friend who had caught the set lets me know how amazing it was (and I'm listening to his music right now - completely true, I'm sure). But that all brings me to my point - the dichotomy of the two acts that I actually sit through (we sit along the unused bar, leaning back with only a sheet of glass between us and an unfortunate fall to Bathurst St.). This is something that could have just as easily been planned as I assume it was not. One represents the old; the other the new. Both are (relatively) new, and in representation, very old. The order they play in contributes to this, with hints of decades passed sandwiching the middle with the now. [This probably is all coming across as something so very esoteric - or that I'm simply failing in 'getting to the point' - but you're wrong, it's needed.] It is a timewarp taking place in this sweaty bar, and as we all drink our demons, we we're transcending.
Trust delivers a vibe that Mark aptly describes as Joy Order. As the insane lasers penetrate the bodies in the room, flashing red, white and green, they transform us all into something else; the music beats at our souls. The female drummer punches and kicks out the sounds of a precisely programmed beat - while she adds something innately human to it. This, overlayed by the singer [he gave me his name; his name escapes me] plays the droning rhythm and catchy melody, a pop-electric-gothic brigade of awesome. We dig it. The notes stem and reach across the room; gently float from a machine box (was that an MPC?) while he sings about loss, use and abuse. Wholesome sentiments. The music is upbeat. The vocals carry a very Curtis bop and the monotonous hum of everyone favourite (dead) hero. Downtrodden. It was a good dose of expected irony.
Then break. Drinks. Stairs. Cigarette. Stairs. Drinks. GO.
The band starts to play. The bass player sings. Josh McIntyre materializes from behind a plywood door. Adorned in denim and with a beer in hand he grabs his $20 microphone to let out his tortured soul [or so it seems - McIntyre is a really nice guy, then again nice guys hurt too]. The energy here is amazing. The crowd is happy (and inebriated, they've timed this well). The NOW-proscribed "fuzz pop" fills our ears (I really thinks its got more of a 'buzz rock' vibe myself) and we all sway in unison (I wish). This now takes us back further in the ages, as for reference, and the invocation of Curtis' spirit fills my heart. Aesthetically they are far different, but the early punk compositions, sharp spikes in volume and the road between calm drone/loss of control scream is playfully crossed again and again. This is (maybe) what Joy Division would have sounded like if they had made it across the Atlantic all those years ago. If they hadn't degraded into that horrific trio in the wake of their loss of a much needed leader - the vision. McIntyre plays his new stuff, which I'm not so much a fan of; we leave and get Chinese food, which my stomach is not entirely too thrilled about.
------
So you see, the 80s and 70s were there with us that night in early 2010. It was exciting. But so much more than cheap references, these guys each have their own unique style. They both bring additional elements into their work (grindcore, chickenhouse, monsterfolk, electrofuck). And maybe I just made those all up. Maybe we should stop trying to classify music and just fucking enjoy it. Maybe you should get back on the dancefloor, critic.
Oh none of this has anything to do with the photo: I took it one night while Nat (@nataliesees) did dishes. She did not know she was being photographed, I just had the lighting perfect and the right positioning. I'm thinking I might just develop this series into something.
None of this has to do with the bands or the photo: If you're the bitch that stepped on my foot last night without so much as a concerned look or apology - fuck you. I had every right to be upset, and you are just a stuck up bitch who felt embarrassed. Well good. It's the next day and you are still a stuck up bitch. And while that whole situation doesn't exactly make me an asshole - I may very well be one for other reasons. ;)
The band we missed:
http://www.myspace.com/josephvaroth
The band we loved:
http://www.myspace.com/trst
The band we came to see:
http://www.myspace.com/littlelittlegirls
Friday, January 8, 2010
N.C.
Sorry friends, it has been a while.
Work is crazy. I am eating less, and shaving more. But it is a good kind of slavery. For the cause! Plus I do get paid, so more of a self-imposed lack of social activity...which is ironic that 1/3 of my job is 'social media.' Working for a non-profit is an amazing experience, and the people I work with are incredible. Going from a 100,000+ organization to one that employs less than 8 was a refreshing adjustment, and I am finally doing work that I believe in. Banks are horrible soul crushing places that make the world a terrible place. If you can, find a credit union and strip the quasi-unitary terror system, but really that is just a suggestion.
Christmas went well. Less stressful than I expected - and at worst a good excuse to hang out with the people I love.
NYE Resulted in a keg fueled bout of broken balconies and juvenile antics, still it was good to get back to our roots - so to speak. Music was the key here, as I had compiled a monster playlist - dragged my tower speakers down the hall to my buddy's place and let the highlighted tunes from the 00s play out. What a decade, indeed.
Nat is having a show - "I think this is for you..." @ Launch Projects Gallery Feb 3rd-14th. Her work is incredible and I am really excited for her. There is nothing greater in life than to see the one you love succeed - and I am finally beginning to understand this. Her work can be seen here: http://nataliecastellino.daportfolio.com/
Ladytron is doing well, though she hates the excessive salt this city drops on its roads. This truly is a problem, and not just for dog owners. Salt levels offset groundwater and poison the urban forest. The run off degrades the water in our lake - so it always makes me bare a frustrated smile when people complain about the 'state of Lake Ontario' when really they helped put it here. Wait for summer, fuckers. I understand the ice=bad equation, but overkill=plain stupid - so do that math people.
Music for the times: Bat For Lashes, Gail Berry, Wilderness of Manitoba, Basket of Figs, The Rural Alberta Advantage, The Antlers, Santogold, The Black Keys, Headlights and The XX
A good mix of old and new, upbeat and lowkey, beauty and decay and all that good human-soul exposed tugging at your heartstrings. Check them out, you won't be in the least bit upset, I promise.
Take care, dear people. Be well.
I will try to post as much as I can, but if you aren't already, follow me on twitter where I am more inclined to keep it up and keep it brief (by design) @mjwhigginson
Work is crazy. I am eating less, and shaving more. But it is a good kind of slavery. For the cause! Plus I do get paid, so more of a self-imposed lack of social activity...which is ironic that 1/3 of my job is 'social media.' Working for a non-profit is an amazing experience, and the people I work with are incredible. Going from a 100,000+ organization to one that employs less than 8 was a refreshing adjustment, and I am finally doing work that I believe in. Banks are horrible soul crushing places that make the world a terrible place. If you can, find a credit union and strip the quasi-unitary terror system, but really that is just a suggestion.
Christmas went well. Less stressful than I expected - and at worst a good excuse to hang out with the people I love.
NYE Resulted in a keg fueled bout of broken balconies and juvenile antics, still it was good to get back to our roots - so to speak. Music was the key here, as I had compiled a monster playlist - dragged my tower speakers down the hall to my buddy's place and let the highlighted tunes from the 00s play out. What a decade, indeed.
Nat is having a show - "I think this is for you..." @ Launch Projects Gallery Feb 3rd-14th. Her work is incredible and I am really excited for her. There is nothing greater in life than to see the one you love succeed - and I am finally beginning to understand this. Her work can be seen here: http://nataliecastellino.daportfolio.com/
Ladytron is doing well, though she hates the excessive salt this city drops on its roads. This truly is a problem, and not just for dog owners. Salt levels offset groundwater and poison the urban forest. The run off degrades the water in our lake - so it always makes me bare a frustrated smile when people complain about the 'state of Lake Ontario' when really they helped put it here. Wait for summer, fuckers. I understand the ice=bad equation, but overkill=plain stupid - so do that math people.
Music for the times: Bat For Lashes, Gail Berry, Wilderness of Manitoba, Basket of Figs, The Rural Alberta Advantage, The Antlers, Santogold, The Black Keys, Headlights and The XX
A good mix of old and new, upbeat and lowkey, beauty and decay and all that good human-soul exposed tugging at your heartstrings. Check them out, you won't be in the least bit upset, I promise.
Take care, dear people. Be well.
I will try to post as much as I can, but if you aren't already, follow me on twitter where I am more inclined to keep it up and keep it brief (by design) @mjwhigginson
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