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foxtongueSo it's not tonsillitis after all. Apparently it's strep throat.
This week has been red lights and green. Wolf Parade was exquisite. A hipster sardine packed illicit space with ghetto lighting and terrifying wiring for the stage, I led Ryan and Andrew successfully to the very front. I leaned against the monitors and tried to dance crammed next to a short asian student of cultural ethnicity with my shirt off and tucked into my bag. I suspect her disapproving looks did wonders for my mood. The opening band was fun, stealing back everything from music that Weezer made suck, and when Wolf Parade came on, we offered them James' place in Montreal as a crash pad. (You should toss them an e-mail, lovely. See how serious they were, win some points with all those pretty girls with asymmetrical haircuts). Opening with Sons and Daughters of Hungry Ghosts* set the tone well, though they could have been a bit louder with the vocals. You Are A Runner And I Am My Fathers Son is quite the experience live. The lead singer is a lean wrung out guy who froths at the mouth and screams with musical fury through a cigarette that he barely holds onto in a Keith Richard pout, and the keyboardist glares with such concentration it was surprising his intrument didn't melt. His grandfather was in the audience somewhere, though I would imagine he would have been hiding in the back next to the hole-in-the-wall bar. I was situated a foot in front of the man playing theramin and he was just as impressive, holding his little electric keyboard above him as if that would bring is closer to some holy god, his eyes rolling trance-like into back into his head. The room was dripping wet, sodden with brilliantly sweaty notes that just didn't translate well onto the album. (Though one must be mad to not to appreciate I'll Believe In Anything.) In summary, the heat was unbelievable and the music just as hot. The concert next month, with Wolf Parade opening for The Arcade Fire is my next most anticipated thing. Everyone capable should go. *both albums for download with this link
The Fetish Masque afterward wasn't half as fun, nor was the burlesque show. Andrew went home and Ryan and I stopped to dress properly for the occasion, gothing to the nines with feathers in my hair and running gold powder down my face. When we arrived, we let someone take us from the burlesque line-up to the fetish one around the side and downstairs, therefore missing the show entirely through a mismanage of poor timing. Aaron was there, and Brian and Kevin, but Herminia stole us away upstairs before I could properly find them. Tristan was upstairs, and a friend of ours was attempting to MC, poor thing, on no warning whatsoever. The show was apparently terribly last minute, so disorganized that it only took me a moment to infiltrate the blueroom and begin ordering people around. "Who's in the band, you're up next. This fruit is to go out to the table. You, cut it up with me?" Ten minutes later I was curling someone's hair in the backstage bathroom and trying to think of ways to get away while the organizer thanked me. I don't know how to curl hair. I escaped by carrying a plate of peanut butter chocolates out to the covered pool-table and re-collected Ryan. It was getting to be close to shut-down then, so after a bit of dallying, I smuggled us into the freezer and we stole out with some strawberries that no one was going to miss and a pineapple in my skirts. When we came back is when we found Kevin finally. His hair had gone from white to an attractive jewel-tone blue, and I'm remembering now as I write this that I really should drop him a ring. I hope e-mail will do, this not having a voice could make things difficult.
This week has been red lights and green. Wolf Parade was exquisite. A hipster sardine packed illicit space with ghetto lighting and terrifying wiring for the stage, I led Ryan and Andrew successfully to the very front. I leaned against the monitors and tried to dance crammed next to a short asian student of cultural ethnicity with my shirt off and tucked into my bag. I suspect her disapproving looks did wonders for my mood. The opening band was fun, stealing back everything from music that Weezer made suck, and when Wolf Parade came on, we offered them James' place in Montreal as a crash pad. (You should toss them an e-mail, lovely. See how serious they were, win some points with all those pretty girls with asymmetrical haircuts). Opening with Sons and Daughters of Hungry Ghosts* set the tone well, though they could have been a bit louder with the vocals. You Are A Runner And I Am My Fathers Son is quite the experience live. The lead singer is a lean wrung out guy who froths at the mouth and screams with musical fury through a cigarette that he barely holds onto in a Keith Richard pout, and the keyboardist glares with such concentration it was surprising his intrument didn't melt. His grandfather was in the audience somewhere, though I would imagine he would have been hiding in the back next to the hole-in-the-wall bar. I was situated a foot in front of the man playing theramin and he was just as impressive, holding his little electric keyboard above him as if that would bring is closer to some holy god, his eyes rolling trance-like into back into his head. The room was dripping wet, sodden with brilliantly sweaty notes that just didn't translate well onto the album. (Though one must be mad to not to appreciate I'll Believe In Anything.) In summary, the heat was unbelievable and the music just as hot. The concert next month, with Wolf Parade opening for The Arcade Fire is my next most anticipated thing. Everyone capable should go. *both albums for download with this link
The Fetish Masque afterward wasn't half as fun, nor was the burlesque show. Andrew went home and Ryan and I stopped to dress properly for the occasion, gothing to the nines with feathers in my hair and running gold powder down my face. When we arrived, we let someone take us from the burlesque line-up to the fetish one around the side and downstairs, therefore missing the show entirely through a mismanage of poor timing. Aaron was there, and Brian and Kevin, but Herminia stole us away upstairs before I could properly find them. Tristan was upstairs, and a friend of ours was attempting to MC, poor thing, on no warning whatsoever. The show was apparently terribly last minute, so disorganized that it only took me a moment to infiltrate the blueroom and begin ordering people around. "Who's in the band, you're up next. This fruit is to go out to the table. You, cut it up with me?" Ten minutes later I was curling someone's hair in the backstage bathroom and trying to think of ways to get away while the organizer thanked me. I don't know how to curl hair. I escaped by carrying a plate of peanut butter chocolates out to the covered pool-table and re-collected Ryan. It was getting to be close to shut-down then, so after a bit of dallying, I smuggled us into the freezer and we stole out with some strawberries that no one was going to miss and a pineapple in my skirts. When we came back is when we found Kevin finally. His hair had gone from white to an attractive jewel-tone blue, and I'm remembering now as I write this that I really should drop him a ring. I hope e-mail will do, this not having a voice could make things difficult.
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Disease!
Date: 2005-10-01 01:46 am (UTC)edible regression
Date: 2005-10-01 01:48 am (UTC)nocturnal mash-up
Date: 2005-10-01 02:18 am (UTC)we've put the bloke on messenger
Date: 2005-10-01 02:21 am (UTC)go to bed!
Date: 2005-10-01 02:28 am (UTC)no one believed me. they were like, "who gets scarlet fever in this day and age?" yeah, leave it to me to bring back an almost extinct illness.
Re: go to bed!
Date: 2005-10-01 02:30 am (UTC)Re: go to bed!
Date: 2005-10-03 05:17 am (UTC)i hope you start feeling better soon.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 02:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 02:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 02:55 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 05:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 10:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-02 08:36 pm (UTC)I went to see John Waters and he wouldnt even talk about his sordid past...
no subject
Date: 2005-10-03 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 08:26 am (UTC)I am half-tempted to email them. I was thinking that at the show.
"See you in two weeks, signed the topless chick, goth boy, and unremarkable one"
no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 10:26 pm (UTC)I wasn't entirely topless...
Damn. I think that's the third time I've said that on-line this week. I'm starting to lose this game.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 09:11 am (UTC)If I ever see a theramin busker he'll get folding money.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 10:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 04:07 pm (UTC)Going to try to finish unpacking today. I think Air Cadets left me with more planning and logistics skills than I care to admit because now my brain is sorting the best way to provide sleeping space for 3-5 people in here.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 10:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 10:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 11:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-02 04:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 09:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-01 10:31 pm (UTC)