I'm behind in my homework. Multi-review: Metric, Eagles of Death Metal and Peaches

I went to Fort York in Toronto last Saturday to see Metric. It was an all day fest. That is, it was hotter than you can imagine & we knew Metric wouldn't be on stage until dark so we waited for it to cool off some.

The band takes the stage & I'm surprised to be so enthralled with the singer, Emily Hanes. Hrm. She's cute :)

Bathing your act in dark blue & purple light is always a easy way to get my googlly eyes going gonzo. Goodness.


photo courtesy of someone else

An outdoor concert experience was nice for a change. During the show, after dark, the cool part was turning to see the severed rays from templates over spotlights beam several hundred meters across the elevated freeway and onto the lakefront condos. Shining on cars, in windows.


photo courtesy of someone else

At several points in the evening I felt compelled to find a musket and take a defensive position behind the walls of stone surrounding the fort's perimeter. Must be the American in me. Fort York is from the war of 1812. I found it weird to imagine a war setting here nearly 200 years ago. They fought hard so we could have a place to drink our faces off in the sun & spend $30 on a $10 t-shirt.

I heard V, this guy I know, was doing stage work that day in exchange for free show access. As hot as it was I'd have been rather upset that my bits would be sopping wet all fucking day. More worth the ticket to sit & guzzle three beers before the band plays & I go home relaxed. All in all, a very good show...





yes there is a but. Sorry Miss Emily. In the future, do not come on stage for your encore to tell us all to, "Fuck that marketing bullshit. We're here for each other & the music & so are you."

*brelp*

C'mon dude, if it weren't like that, you wouldn't have so much merchandise to sell. My friend wouldn't have felt compelled to drop $60 in addition to the ticket just to have some swag to remember the experience. It was a bummer because it was as though the condemnation of marketing was a sales pitch. You're musicians and you have to make a living. That's fine. Sell your stuff. Just don't sell it by 'damning the man'.



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Eagles of Death Metal


It was weird though. It was another one of those shows where I go to buy the ticket & find out that the band I want to see is not headlining. Whatevs. All it means is I may get home early enough to sleep plenty before work. I can deal.

So.

The Eagles of Death Metal, in case you were wondering or didn't click the link, are a fantastically ridiculous derivative from the Kyuss - Queens of the Stone Age tree. Everything fun and candy-assed cliche about rock & roll comes together with their Camero driving, cigarette smoking, mustache sporting version of humor and music.

I honestly feel that is as much as I can elaborate on them. I got what I wanted which was a silly fantastic time drinking to loud rock. I love the first album & I heard my favorites from it. Thanks guys that was great fun!

Here. Have some more photos I didn't shoot.






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Peaches.

Peaches was the headliner for the evening. I'd never heard of her before. Asking around at work got me nothing more than mixed brands of disinterest. "Lame." "Funny." "Sexually charged." None of the opinions seemed excited about her stop in TO.




Odd. The folks at the show just freakin roared to life when she appeared. Joe & I didn't get it. Yes, sex is cool. But after three songs sounding all so similar, we got fed up with the predictability & boredom & called it a night.



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Metric: Good Show. A respectable three stars
EofDM: Likewise. Three & a half
Peaches: Sorry. I give it a two star generously because the crowd (excepting me) was enchanted with your pelvic thrusts & pulsating rhythm.

Welcome to the next century!

Me that is. That's it folks we've finally achieved bandwidth! Woot. Seriously, it does make things faster to a worth while end. *sigh*

The downside is that my super-drive has decided to enter the semi-active realm of intermittent response. As in:
"Ahh, we're home. Looks like I don't have to recognize any discs anymore! What? We're going to the service department? Oh well then let me be on my best behavior so's to make a liar out of you. Know why? I heard your car used to love pulling this stunt. I hear she laughed her ass off for years. Don't you think it's my turn now?"

The irony is that the more complicated our devices that make for easy living become, the more they complicate our lives due to a dependency on a box built by the lowest bidder. Remember that commercial where the guy beats the ever loving shit out of his computer? Honestly now, can any of you tell me you were never that person? My plan in college was to toss the CPU tower out the 4th floor window of the school & film it from breaking out of the window to crashing to the street. This, of course, would be passed off as art at the next student show. Imagine the gathered folks saying, "Gosh! Such an impulsive statement on our technological future!" "Yes, a complete rejection of the accepted! How rare!" This will resort in an explosion of artsy fame for my life. Being slapped in the face with marketing offers, sponsorships, people becoming my people & they're people becoming my people's people. Generating revenue by way of concept. Fame goes to the head, all of a sudden I'll be filling my house with technological devices designed to make my life easier. Full circle. Hypocritical.

I can stare at my art supplies & ponder the loveliness of being a luddite. Rejecting.

Wait. Am I the not one who wanted to be a computer based artist to begin with?

my drive is still fubared. I have web work to do...

*hangs head, calls applecare*

Do What Must Be Done

I walked outside to the corner and took the mass transit. Destination unclear, either out of town or out of country. It felt like I crossed a border but I have no idea how I got there or where I was. I seemed to be in a building run by one woman. A kind of church or sanctuary. Cement mostly, but without the clear beauty and goodness of the simple churches I've seen. The woman who operated the place was large and seemingly sweet like a mother. I know how she had managed to convince so many to join her church. They were loving people who wanted nothing more than reassurance and a place for their faith in the Lord to grow. A place where they weren't so lonely and confused.

I was casually looking for someone that I had spoken to earlier. I couldn't find them. Peeking in and out of corridors, rooms... As I searched, I entered a room and saw there was orange light coming from the 2-inch crack near the bottom of the cement wall. I knew that the other side contained the furnace that heated the whole building. When I peered under I saw who I was looking for. He was laying under the furnace, burning. Being slowly cooked down to a mess. I could still see the white of his teeth among all the grey & black flesh through orange flames. I could see how his eye sockets were blacker than anything I had ever seen. My body filled with fear and panic. I convulsed and vomited at the sight and began to stagger away in horror. I knew I had to leave and in that same moment, knew I was here like the rest of the followers. Trapped. Dead. Tricked into the hands of madness by the promises of religion.

I could no longer leave. I had to escape instead. I scooped together as much of my belongings into my pockets as I could and made for the door. She was there in her kitchen. Awkward posture. Varicose veins. That fat face grinning at me. She knew that I knew the door was locked. It didn't look too hefty. I considered kicking it down to make a break for it. But they called to me. Those she swallowed in fire and those she had not yet subdued. I could not live with myself if I abandoning them to her will. While the large woman's back was turned, I picked up an end table. It was stout and had large wooden ball feet. I raised it high and quietly. I brought it down on her head and she collapsed into unconsciousness. She was out but I knew it was not for long. I had no money to travel away from this place so I rifled through her change purse & wallet. I scrambled as fast as I could but she woke before I could plan a way to stop these things I saw. Her eyes burned themselves into my memory forever and as she looked at me, I heard a voice. A message telling me what I must do. Like looking at the face of a tortured & diseased dog. "Kill me."

I did.

I screamed at her, "How could you do this!? All these people!? They trusted you!" I kicked her legs crashing her weight down again. I ran to the closet to find a very large monkey wrench. It was an arm's length. I held it with two hands, one on each end. I smashed her face in. I smashed it again. When you bludgeon someone to death, it takes so many blows. It seems to take so long. I smashed her bloody mangled face for the 7th time. She bubbled & spit blood as she tried to mutter something I couldn't understand. I smashed her face with the cold steel for the last time as I was sure she was dead. I was not thankful that the terror she inflicted on dozens was now over. I did not feel the part of the hero. All I could do was sob and shake with shame and guilt under the eyes of my creator above. Angry and broken because I was forced to do something I could not bear. I never meant to take life. I now wish I was dead.