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."
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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.
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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
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