playing (did play) tonight.
Oh my goodness, wonderful. rad.
My ears are ringing. It was great.
Aaron Turner (singer/guitarist) reminds me somehow of a younger, less cynical Father Time.
Know this, friends, that Father Time is one cynical motherfucker.
Hmm.... they had always struck me as a 'jam' band. Not so. They played remarkably tight, very little improv,
except at the end. Their bassist seems to have a longer neck on his bass than mine,
'cos his seems to include every note that's wonderful. Truly a remarkable player.
OMG. This, coincidentally, stands for Old Man Gloom,
whose CD I have been searching for since forever and finally found at the ISIS merch table.
Score one for the Gipper. (me)
Things that make me happy:
Everything. (for the moment)
Stingrays plugged into Ampeg amps. It's the way it should be.
Also: Bloor street at midnight. The fact that home is only a five minute bike ride away.
The fact that my ISIS button has the Panopticon on it, and if I wear it upside down it says 'Si, si.'
Girls that remind me of an ex-girlfriend, but aren't. (it's like a get outta jail free card!)
Volume in copious amounts. (given)
The fact that I warmed up for the show listening to the Almighty BOTCH, and then the opening band had their bassist.
Yeah, I'd recognize that bass and bassline anywhere. They were great.
A warm kitten when I get home. That's pretty cool, admit it.
I've also noticed: when I saw fear before the march of flames earlier this month, then These Arms Are Snakes, ....is hardcore getting a larger segment of skinny, gay men? (Also, see The Locust, whose bassist, it is rumored, got married to their drummer in a 'publicity stunt.')
One can only hope so. Punk is/was supposed to be a home for the outcasts, what's more outcastic (sic) than a gay male who listens to heavy music? This music was born as a big Big fucking tent, with room for everyone....
I'm fucking sick of the kung-fu kids in the mosh pit, all ludicrously macho, with the fake varsity Every Time I Die T-shirts, who bring their dads to shows as chaperone. That shit's weak. Go home, jock. Get spat upon.
Think of it: three fat kids in the pit, kung-fu high kicks, and nobody wants to get kicked in the face. They monopolize the pit. C'mon. Who's having fun there?
No mosh pit tonight, just a lot of satisfied, glassy stares and swaying. Wonderful.
Another post tomorrow, a 'deep', political one, started it before the show and now I can't finish it because i don't have the cynicism necessary to delve into political matters right now. The bile well is empty at present.
Hope nobody minds if I'm having fun right now. No, I didn't think so.
Good night y'all.


At 3:15 p.m., Blogger Rik said...

They completely rocked, didn't they? I too have a SISI badge. Perhaps you might recognise me in the street wearing it one day, if you live near Bloor.

That Jeff Caxide sure can play bass guitar well. Damn him.

Your fellow Toronto blog person,

rik (rik.typepad.com)

At 1:31 a.m., Blogger inkheart said...

You kids and your music.
What about Refused! Refused is good! And still going strong, I hear. And At The Drive In! They're pretty "groovy," you know.
OH GOD I'M LIVING IN THE PAST. Well you know what, International Noise Conspiracy and Mars Volta (let's not even talk about Sparta) just aren't doing it for me. I'm old and bitter and I want my carefree youth back.

"A warm kitten when I get home. That's pretty cool, admit it."

Hey, keep it family friendly, please.

Oh, the idiot making thinly-veiled accusations of bestiality? Yeah, that's me. I'm that idiot. Right here. Thanks.

Ugh. Anyway, dude, I've accepted the fact that I have a wrist injury. I have made peace with it and invited it in to my life and now we borrow each other's t-shirts. Let's do the thing where we make guitars make sounds again.


At 2:40 p.m., Blogger eric said...

BOO=wrists YAY=w/the noise anthems
mike, sure, whenever. although i'm not sure how 'making peace' with the wrists will make it less painful for you. oh well- i guess i'll leave that up to you.
i've heard about othere people too--
one guy had a wicked noise/jazz ensemble, really really talented; he was in the york music program.
then- fuck!- carpal tunnel syndrome. the only guitar he can manage these days is a lap steel, playing with a slide.
shit man, shit.

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