Things I Listened To In 2014

I'm too out of it to make a normal ''best of'' list with rankings and stuff. Also, there weren't that many records I purchased that made me want to listen to them all the way through repeatedly. Perhaps it's because Radiohead didn't release anything, or I've become jaded. Or music sucks now. Wait, no, that's not true: Against Me!'s record, from start to finish, made my summer and fall. That, my friends, is how you make music with a message.

What I know for sure is that the song I listened to the most in the first six months - by a fair margin - was totally outside of my usual comfort zone: Lady Gaga's Do What U Want (both the version with R. Kelly and the one with Christina Aguilera, which ended up being my favourite).

But in the past month, The Osmonds' Crazy Horses, from their 1972 record of the same name, has been spinning on YouTube, in my mp3 player and as a ring tone nearly non-stop. I have listened to it more than any other songs - not only combined, but times three. If I end up killing myself, that song may be to blame (you're welcome to put Donny Osmond on trial, though he barely played wheezing keyboard on the track).

2014 also saw me listen to a lot of music from years past, namely Nine Inch Nails' fantastic 2013 opus Hesitation Marks (as well as a lot of their 1994 tour de force The Downward Spiral), a lot of Ice Cube, six or seven Jay Z songs over and over, some Beyoncé from last year, Nirvana's In Utero, Pearl Jam's entire discography up to Binaural, with maybe three songs each off their last four records, Red Hot Chili Peppers' Mother's Milk and Blood Sugar Sex Magik, Megadeth's Countdown To Extinction, some Suicidal Tendencies, and a ton of Montréal bands.

But 2014?

As far as albums go, these hit a nerve a little:

Against Me!, Transgender Dysphoria Blues
USA Out Of Vietnam's Crashing Diseases and Incurable Airplanes (re-release)
Thee Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra's Fuck Off Get Free We Pour Light On Everything
Jack White, Lazaretto (though it's my least favourite of his discography so far)
Caribou, Our Love
Aphex Twin, Syro
Elephant Stone's The Three Poisons
Sacral Nerves's self titled release
Robert Plant, Lullaby... And The Ceaseless Roar
Beck, Morning Phase
Jenny Lewis, The Voyager
Guillaume Beauregard, D'Étoiles, De Pluie Et De Cendres
Jésuslesfilles, Le Grain D'Or
Philémon Cimon, L'Été
Monogrenade, Composite
Kandle, In Flames
Common, Nobody's Smiling

And I don't think the fact that I know people in nine of those acts has anything to do with me liking their music. If anything, it might be the other way around.

I didn't go head-over-heels like many of my friends over Sun Kil Moon, Swans, Run the Jewels and The War On Drugs, though they had their moments.

As for songs, I'm going with these, in addition the the aforementioned Gaga mega-hit, in what is close to a preference order:

Nikki Lane, Right Time
Meghan Trainor, All About The Bass
Kandle, Not Up To Me
Joseph Arthur, Walk On The Wild Side (Lou Reed cover)
Childish Gambino (feat. Problem), Sweatpants
Arctic Monkeys, Arabella
Interpol, All The Rage Back Home
The Pack A.D., Big Shot
Nicki Minaj, Anaconda
Red Mass, Sharp
Queens Of The Stone Age, Smooth Sailing


I have yet to pay attention to the D'Angelo record. Same for J Mascis. I hear great things, though, but I need to get that Osmonds song (and All About The Bass) out of my system first. My cousin had the Hozier CD playing on repeat on the drive home from visiting my dad and grandma last night; I didn't mind it too much.

Alice In Chains, Monster Truck & The Pack A.D. @ Metropolis, August 24, 2014

It was a fine evening of rock last night at Metropolis.

It started with The Pack A.D., who were in fine form. Drummer Maya Miller knows exactly when to simplify things à la Meg White and when to pound an off-beat à la Keith Moon, and as the backing vocalist and master of ceremony, always adequately takes the between-the-songs spotlight off of Becky Black, who uses the 10 seconds she needs to gather up the energy to burst out another garage rock gem. As the first of three bands on the bill, we expected 20 minutes of hard rock from them; instead, we were pleased to get double that.

Next up was Monster Truck, who have been in town and in our province often since winning the Best New Artist Juno in 2013, most recently a couple of weeks ago at an outdoors festival - I forget whether it's Osheaga or Heavy MTL, which both take place at the same venue and are organized by the same people. If Lynyrd Skynyrd had a child with AC/DC, the music it would produce would be pretty much what Monster Truck provides; get that child a godfather like Mark Slaughter or Chris Cornell for the range of vocals, and you're dead-on.

By itself, their songs are ok. It's riff-based Southern Rock with lots of ''girl'', ''baby'', ''love'', and maybe some ''driving'' in the lyrics; the type of stuff that's fine as background music while listening to a rock station on a road trip, but maybe not something I'd buy in CD or MP3 format. However, these guys can play, and their live sets have an energy I've rarely seen anywhere else before. They are confident, in control of their instruments, and most of all, happy. All four of them sport smiles that could end a forest fire and impregnate all the birds and squirrels. They're more fun to watch than a barrel full of monkeys on acid (*please don't give acid to monkeys). I might eventually be tempted to buy a DVD of theirs.

But the main event managed to remind everyone in the room whose show it really was. Alice In Chains, despite the death of two founding members (vocalist and part-time guitarist Layne Staley, and bassist Mike Starr) are as good as they ever were. If anything, they now have the consistency to give high-quality shows night in and night out, which may not have been the case when at least two of its members were heroin addicts.

Jerry Cantrell remains a pitch-perfect guitarist (though I don't agree with those who consider him a guitar god/virtuoso), and Sean Kinney is also one of the most reliable drummers to come out of the 1990s Seattle scene, so that went according to plan; Mike Inez - who also played with Ozzy Osbourne, Slash's Snakepit and Black Label Society - might be an improvement over Starr for the sheer fact that he's enjoying every second of it (huge smiles, interacting with the crowd, throwing picks - think of Suicidal Tendencies / Metallica bass player Robert Trujillo); and William DuVall is a heck of a frontman.

He can hit Staley's notes, but he's also energetic, doing rock-star poses and moves like a cross between Beck and Scott Weiland - but with a much larger vocal range: there's some Corey Glover (Living Coloür) deepness and richness in there, there's that sardonic Axl Rose voice from Mr. Brownstone at times, but the Staley-meets-Freddie Mercury thing really hits you. And he can play guitar well - he took a few solos during the evening, and when he felt he may not have hit a note right, he didn't play it. He stayed within his means and rocked the fuck out.

Photo: Éric Robillard

Here's the setlist, and album each song was from:

1. Dirt (Dirt, 1992)
2. Them Bones (Dirt)
3. Dam That River (Dirt)
4. Hollow (The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here, 2013)
5. Again (Alice In Chains, 1995)
6. Check My Brain (Black Gives Way To Blue, 2009)
7. Your Decision (Black Gives Way To Blue)
8. Man In the Box (Facelift, 1990)
9. Grind (Alice In Chains)
10. Nutshell (Jar Of Flies, 1994)
11. Phantom Limb (The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here)
12. We Die Young (Facelift)
13. Stone (The Devil Put Dinosaurs Here)
14. Sludge Factory (Alice In Chains)
(encore break)
15.  Cold Gin (Kiss cover) tease
16. Got Me Wrong (Sap, 1992)
17.Would? (Singles soundtrack, 1992; Dirt)
18. Rooster (Dirt)

In addition to the quality of the show, I'd be remiss to not point out that three feet to my right was the largest and most violent mosh pit I've seen since 1996. Kudos to no one getting killed. Keep it classy, kids.

Alice In Chains: 8/10
Monster Truck: 7/10
The Pack A.D.: 8/10

Loaded Aftermath

I've been asked how our show went, last Thursday. I've got to say, it was our best show as Loaded, and everyone in the crowd and the band seemed to have a great time.

Here are a few of the comments I gathered, first from the performers themselves:

Patrick Hutchinson (guitar, vocals):

Well, that was a blast & a half...what a gas to be part of that huge throbbing wall of sound! Mighty kudos to Loaded co-conspirators Dave Lines (keys/vox) Luca Fantigrossi (guit/vox) Jordi Rosen (accordion/vox) Caroline Glass (cor anglais/oboe/vox) Sébastian Hell (guit/vox - completely nailed that Heroin!) JW Triangles Stuart (bass/vox) Allan Lento (guit/vox) all anchored, grounded & mainlined into the 220v by the incomparable rock'n'roll queen of la batterie, Jackie Gallant (drums/vox) !!!!!

Luca Fantigrossi:

"What goes on in your mind?" well, thanks for asking... I'd like to say that I'm still reeling with joy from last night's festivities! It's such an honor to play with such wonderful musicians... 

Mr. Hutchinson put it perfectly by saying "what a gas to be part of that huge throbbing wall of sound!" Thanks to Dave for bringing us all together last night, and his awesome band A Devil's Din, to Jackie for making our hearts throb with your drumming, to Jordi for your always inspiring presence and lovely vocals, to JW Triangles for rocking that bass and providing us all with a space to rehearse, to Allan for getting this whole thing started a few years ago and for allowing us to keep it going - also you sure can rock those songs! Thanks to Caroline for giving that special extra sound to the band, and to Sébastian for rocking the house as always as well, and to Patrick for all those wonderful leads that sore the band real high! 

Also, much thanks to L'esco, and all you wonderful people who came down to experience it with us! Much love, and happy holidays!

JW Stuart :

You think the last thing one would want to do after playing a Velvets tribute show would be to listen to them the next day. But the song below really moved me this morning. Partially because it represents Lou's love of 50's music... but mainly it got me thinking about the dear people I shared the stage with last night. 

Allan who started the whole shebang years ago. His Waiting For The Man and Venus are really mind-blowing. He is a truly kind and loving soul who has the gift of seeing joy and beauty in small things.

Dave - whose musical prowess still astonishes me. His calm admist the chaos, his sly sense of humour and contagious love of music.

Jackie - well what can you say about her. Humble, brilliant, and always spot-on. I loved last night so much because I turned away from the audience and watched/fed off her the whole night.

Jordi brings light and beauty to everything she does, and her voice at once innocent and wise gives me shivers.

Patrick - again where do I start with this madman. He's been plucking on stages across the city for decades, and his positive/giddy/talky- talky personality is a rare and beautiful thing. The moment I met him (for a slide lesson) I wished I had known him my whole life. A real treasure.

Sébastian Hell - he's quiet, wickedly opinionated, and a brilliant interpreter of songs. I can think of countless Sake Of the Songs performances that really should go down in local music history.

Caroline - a stunning and brilliant musician. And holy shit that Femme Fatale... again shiiiiivers... Keep your ears attuned to her, brilliant.

Luca - well you just want to hug that guy. He's an inspired and deep soul.
& yes I missed Will too.

I love you guys, look forward to the next time.

And a few choice words from folks in attendance:

Bill Gould:

Thanks! for a real swell time!,everybody got along so really well, I can hardly wait until the next time!

Mikhail Doborvlianski, who taped the show and whose footage is all over YouTube and Facebook:

It was a great show! Thanks to everybody!!!

Victoria Smutova:

Absolutely agree :) awesome guys, awesome performance! Thanks to everyone!

 And now, a few short videos from my friend Anne-Marie Martino:

Heroin:


We're Gonna Have A Real Good Time Together:


Who Loves The Sun:

Album Review: Near Grey's The Herschel Central Peak

It isn't ''easy listening'' per se, as it clearly demands some attention span to grasp the subtleties of their 10-minute songs, but Near Grey's The Herschel Central Peak won't blow your brain apart either. Unless you listen with your headphones on too loudly.

As far as instrumentals go, this is closer to the atmospheric leanings of Godspeed You! Black Emperor (albeit a tad heavier and sludgier, but in the same vein of explorations of sonic landscapes that go from calm to heavy swiftly yet subtly) than British shoegazers that so many were fond of a decade ago.

Guitarist/synth expert Kevin Bartczak has been experimenting with post-rock and heavier music for a decade now through numerous projects (Raw Madonna and USA Out Of Vietnam to name a couple of collective efforts, but also quite an extensive solo library as well as more conventional releases like the terrific Natalie Portland), and he seems to have found something with this particular band that he didn't have earlier: boundaries that lead to substance.

It's not art for art's sake, it's not a vanity project, it's music. Really good music.

The first piece, Sauropod, numbs your mind with the repetition of just one dark chord, then takes you away with a lighter side in the middle, enabling your senses to take flight, as if reflecting safely from above the wreckage of a war-torn village, spirit-like. Or something.

Then comes Northfield, which sounds like the aftermath of the previous scene. Slow-paced, filled with sadness and melancholy, with a touch of anger and resignation - just enough to prop you back up. The drumming in this one is particularly good, both at first in the subdued part, and in the end as well, when the emotions rise.

Cannulated starts exactly where Northfield ends, mid-crescendo, before cooling off quickly and revealing the album's best melodies... only to increase in intensity with more convincing drum work. For this song in particular, however, I would have liked the drums to display a lower frequency/pitch and perhaps be a tad louder in the mix starting from the half-way mark, as they are clearly driving the song, but having them so far behind in the mix creates a bit of a sense of dead air floating in the middle of all the instruments.

Regina closes off the album, and begins by sounding like an old black-and-white photo feels: desolate, sad, decrepit, like all of its descendants are long dead. It's also the one song that is best described by the band's self-inflicted ''metal'' categorization, seeing as from the middle of the song onwards, it sounds pretty darn satanic. It's also pretty energetic and invigorating, like the last song of a set, be it pre-encore or during it.

All in all, it's a pretty satisfying record that I'd rate a solid 7.5/10.

The only negative thing I found - particularly in the third track - was a less-than-optimal production, whose overall grade is fine (7/10) but in that particular song, closer to 6/10.

You can purchase it here, for a mere $5.

Pearl Jam's Lightning Bolt

I did it for Backspacer, so I figured I'd do it for Lightning Bolt as well... a track-by-track critique of Pearl Jam's record, due out today.

First off, what a generic fucking album title. ''Will it be electric? Will it hit you like a lightning bolt?'' Also, after pulling the ''eponymous album'' on their eighth in 2006, they now give us their first with a record named after one of its songs. On their tenth album. I'm expecting a re-hash of Hotel California on the next one...

Getaway is a good lead-off track, with its 70s/Kiss vibe (complete with drums-and-vocals breakdown), reminiscent of Backspacer's Johnny Guitar. 8/10

Mind Your Manners was the first single and video, and it sounds like a lot of PJ's ''rockers'', notably those with hardcore-punk-inspired vocal melodies (Blood, Comatose), with the bridge bringing a softer break. It's ok, but not great. Could use louder guitars to match the intensity. 6.5/10

My Father's Son has decent musical ideas, particularly the Caribbean-like bass lines, but the guitar seriously lacks balls - distortion and low ends. As they are, they leave the (angry) vocals to defend themselves and don't utter a syllable to help out. Could have been at least two points better with decent sound. 6.5/10

I've already commented on Sirens when I featured the video a few days ago, but I'll reiterate: good power ballad that could have used better lyrics (as in not ''can you hear the sirens'' three times to start the song off). But I'll be glad to hear it live if it replaces the overplayed Daugther and Small Town, maybe even Betterman. 7.5/10

As a title track, Lightning Bolt is far from a standout. It's not terrible, but also suffers from poor production: it seems the second verse's guitars don't come in as strongly as they do the first time around, though you'd think they'd want to increase the intensity. Also, keeping in mind Wishlist and Unthought Known, it's beginning to be a theme to have songs that start with (and also have a middle part with) muted guitar notes. I say ''theme'' because I'm trying hard not to say ''schtick''. 6.5/10

The sixth song of the album is called Infallible, which I'm guessing was ironic, because it actually proves PJ to be anything but. You know when you hear a Soundgarden song and think to yourself ''it's ok, but it sounds like a Pearl Jam knock-off''? Well, this sounds like Pearl Jam imitating Soundgarden channeling Pearl Jam. Fitting, then, that at 2:15, Eddie Vedder would sing: ''You think we've been here before / You are mistaken''. It's an honest mistake, really, and you won't be the first to make it. 5/10

Pendulum. Oh, what promise, with a drum beat that wouldn't have been out of place on No Code (or close to Radiohead's There There, for you non-PJ fans). The guitar playing is subdued, restrained, efficient; it would have been a really good number if not for the damned ''ah-ah-ah-ah-ahs'' punctuating the final minute-and-a-half - really, there wasn't a 5-syllable sentence they could have repeated instead of fucking ''ahs'', even something as simple as ''time just passes by'', or ''here I am to die'', or ''I'm going back to bed''... 7/10

Swallowed Whole isn't a bad song, it's well-written enough, seems like one of the band's classic mid-tempo rockers, except it sounds like shit. This song is a testament that the band needs outside help at a producing level (and should take Brendan O'Brien's studio key away or change the locks altogether). The guitars sound like they're played through a 1940s AM radio and Vedder's voice is way too loud in the mix - and he's singing slightly off-key in a burning-my-ears kind of way, like when 20 years of people complimenting his awesome voice gets to his head and he starts to think every sound coming out of his mouth is gold. 6/10

And now it's time for the most painful track of all: Let the Records Play. Let's concentrate on the music first: a classic blues-boogie, it sounds pretty much like Rob Zombie's Pussy Liquor - or the theme from True Blood (a.k.a. Bad Things by Jace Everett)... with their balls taken out, the scrotum following suit, and the dick falling off as well. And when you've emasculated the shit out of a song, might as well throw some classic rock lyrics à la Kiss/Bob Seger in there for good measure (you wish you had one bourbon, one scotch and one beer to wash away this silver bullet, but this is clearly Dry Country). 2/10

Vedderites will recognize Sleeping By Myself from his solo Ukulele Songs album... which for some reason the band decided to cover, taking it from an honest, touching song to a pseudo-country cheese-fest. To make the pain in my ears more bearable when I listen to this, when the guitar solo comes up at the 1:30 mark, I just turn my brain off and drift into the chorus of P!nk's Just Give Me A Reason - yes, I know - and it helps me survive until the next verse. 3/10

Yellow Moon is a winner, though, and probably should have been the closing track. Reminiscent of such nice, dark ballads as Nothingman, it would have been at its place on any PJ record save the first and previous-last, it fits so well in their catalog. It's Low Light's bigger, stronger brother. 8/10

But Future Days is the actual closer, and it's a fine slow song, in the vein of The End or All Or None, though it might have been better suited to play during the end credits of a very good film (see Man Of The Hour for Big Fish). The keyboard intro is the only spot in which Boom Gaspar's presence is felt, which is a tad off-putting considering he's in every band photo for the album. 7/10

All in all, this is an album of firsts in my relationship with Pearl Jam: the first time I don't really like an album, the first time I dislike more songs than I love, the first time I dread going out to see them live in case they pop one of these out, the first time I'm angry at them for going soft for no reason (not the ballads, the ball-less Let The Records Play).

All in all, I'll give this a 6/10.

Worst Wax Museum Ever (And That's Saying A Lot!)

I already had a negative opinion of wax museums in general, but seeing the pictures accompanying this scathing review of the Hollywood Wax Museum may have sealed the deal for me to never go to one again...

These only barely resemble the actors they're supposed to be, and they're not even the worst (Tom Hanks wins that one, but I'll let you see for yourself). Actually, they look like melted wax sculptures of bad celebrity look-alikes, 5 seconds after they've posed looking similar to the celeb, not quite there anymore...

Reversing Falls (Album Launch) @ Casa Del Popolo, April 19, 2013

I had three four events I could have gone to - happily - on Friday night, but physics and cash would force me to attend just one, and it was to be Reversing Falls' album launch, at Casa del Popolo. It was organized by Indie Montreal, and had a decent $7 cover charge which, coupled with the city's best beer at $5 a pint and hosted in the best smallish-to-midsize venue in town made for a night full of promise.

Unfortunately, promises - like New Year's Resolutions - are made to be broken, and they were pretty much shattered by the opening band, Holobody, a male-female duo who at times both sing, both play guitar, and doodle with knobs and pre-programmed instruments with all the energy of a comatose paraplegic. Their most-felt and least-bad song was a cover of Beyoncé's Crazy In Love that would make Lana Del Rey proud, but for all their potential - and they do have some talent - their set fell flatter than dry wall.

Then came Asthma Camp, which was 200% better - but still pretty bad. A three-piece consisting of a decent drummer, an energetic guitarist and a singer/keyboardist, their riffs could have used a lot more power (say: louder volume and distortion) to hide the fact that their white-boy reggae was lifting beats and melodies from all over the 1980s, from Laidback's Sunshine Reggae to Men At Work's Land Down Under, and even Madonna's La Isla Bonita. Indie cred: zero.

Luckily, Reversing Falls were in fine form, with a short-but-energetic, balls-out set - now with a live drummer! They covered Hole's Malibu, played songs from their first EP and even one from a limited-release Distroboto minidisc, as well as much of the new stuff, starting out with Curse This Place. From start to finish, they gradually, single-handedly upped the evening's grade from An F-minus to a solid B - it would have been even better with worthy openers, or had they been the lone performers.

R.I.P. Live 'N Loud & Le Labyrinthe

Another day, another tragedy in the local music/arts/distribution world...

First, on the morning of April 10th, legendary rock-and-roll store Le Labyrinthe announced it was closing its storefront:

We're sad to announce that after 43 years as the largest rock/metal/punk/entertainment t-shirt store in Montreal,... fb.me/1FmqodXwl
— Labyrinthe Boutique (@LabyrintheRock) April 9, 2013

Man, I started buying Guns N' Roses t-shirts there in 1989, then remained through the grunge years where I'd buy a t-shirt per week. It calmed down at the turn of the century, as I've been into funny shirts more than rock shirts for a while, but I'd still make my way down there three or four times a year, and never came out empty-handed.

They'd expanded from the music/bong/belt buckle/poster scene to add a comics/DVD section a few years ago, and I was under the impression that wasn't going too badly, but I may have been wrong.

Later that afternoon, online music magazine/review site Live 'N Loud announced it, too, was calling it quits. I knew people who wrote for LNL, and they hadn't heard from their bosses in weeks. Now we know why.

It's a tough time to be associated with the arts in any form, and the overhead is killing many a business, particularly those operating downtown, what with the city speculating on buildings' value to increase tax revenue promptly landlords to increase the rent they charge and businesses seeing their profit margins disappear.

Another proof that short-term visions are a cancer to public finance and politics: what's better, 20% of something, or 30% of nothing? If they stopped stealing from the public directly, said public would be able to afford to spend their money, which through taxes would end up finding their way back into our crooked politicians' pockets anyway. But they get so greedy they kill off their own supply - and we all lose in the end.

Labyrinthe had been open since 1970. 43 years.

My mom was twelve, Paul McCartney was leaving The Beatles, Black Sabbath released their first and second records, Guyanna joined the Commonwealth, Rhodesia and Tonga became their own countries (seceded from the British empire), the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty came into effect, Canada declared Québec under Martial Law during the October Crisis, Apollo 13 was in space, four dead in Ohio (Kent State University students, inspired Neil Young to write what could be his best song ever), journalist Ruben Salazar was killed by the L.A. police (prompting Hunter S. Thompson - also covering the Chicano crisis - to write one of his finest works for Rolling Stone), Jimi Hendrix and Janis Jolpin both died within two weeks of each other, Monday Night Football debuts on TV, Doonesbury debuts in newspapers, the Marshall University football team were among 75 victims of an air crash, and Catherine of Siena and Theresa of Avila were made Saints by the Catholic Church.

If it seems like a lifetime ago, it's because it was. It's History, and it's being disposed of like fucking garbage.

Jack White @ L'Olympia, October 2, 2012

Yes, in Montréal, a $59 ticket actually costs $79.

It was my fourth time seeing a Jack White project live, after the White Stripes, The Raconteurs and The Dead Weather, and like every other time, I came out fully satisfied.

The energetic frontman once again proved to be a generous performer, but also a tremendous band leader. It's one thing to be in synch with one drummer, a co-songwriter, or to be the guy holding the beat down, but it's a whole other to lead a full band into a setlist-free 90-minute show, and dictating when the violin, organ or banjo solo will occur, and for how long.

As expected, his greatest rapport came with drummer Daru Jones, who added fluidity to Meg White's parts on the many White Stripes songs performed that night, even White's biggest hit, Seven Nation Army.

White travels with two bands this time around, deciding on the morning of which one (or at times both) will accompany him onstage, and The Buzzards (Los Buzzardos), the all-male counterparts to the all-female The Peacocks, were the chosen ones on this night; they are, at heart, a soul/r'n'b band, with a definite rock edge. If there was a band you could see baking Al Green for a Queens Of The  Stone Age crowd, it'd be them.

Throughout the evening, White ended up playing 8 White Stripes numbers, 2 Raconteurs songs, I Cut Like A Buffalo from The Dead Weather, 3 covers (Hank Williams' You Know That I Know, Robert Johnson' Stop Breaking Down, and a bit of Dick Dale's Nitro) and 6 songs off his recent solo outing, for a total of 19 discernible tracks of aural pleasure.

Oddly, he seemed less inclined to go on never-ending solos, perhaps because he didn't want to outshine his band, but after seeing him with his previous acts, always taking center stage, I kind of expected him to continue in that vein with his name being alone on the marquee. Whether he was just not in the mood for showboating or is just more humble with his top-notch backing band, or perhaps because he was using a Fender telecaster guitar rather than his usually strident low-budget Italian six-strings, he concentrated on performing it raw, which was just fine with the typical Montréal crowd - loud, happy, into it. It even led to a few impromptu sing-alongs, which White seemed to enjoy.

The sound was both pretty good (you could decipher every instrument in the band) and average (some of the vocals were hard to hear if you didn't know the songs well, as was pointed out in a few reviews I read), but it's a damn rock show, not an album, so I was more than ok with it.

It was loud, but you could taste the blues, you could hear the country, you could touch the folk and you could definitely see the rock.

And I thought I saw Brendan Benson as the go-to backing vocalist, guitarist, tambourine man and small string instrument player:

If it is him, I'm a tad disappointed that they didn't play Steady As She Goes, but if your lone gripe is about the one song in a 200-plus catalog that wasn't there, you're kind of missing the point.

Yesterday's Poutine

If you know me a little bit, you know I have habits. Like watching hockey games, drinking beer, cooking, collecting cards and autographs.

If you've been around me for the past 3-to-5 years or so, you'd know I'd gained a lot of weight (100 pounds) in the few years prior and decided to control the situation by eating just one poutine per week, and it was to be on Tuesdays because that's when the La Belle Province next to my workplace had a special I liked: the city's best poutine (two layers of curdled cheese, cayenne pepper in their sauce, amazing fries), a burger and a drink for $6 - can't beat that.

It was my Tuesday Poutine ritual, usually at lunch time.

But the place closed down two years ago, because the owner got caught cheating on his taxes.

Tuesdays, however, remained my Poutine Day. And yesterday, I went to Poutineville for some high-class junk, and here's what I ordered:

Aside - or rather, on top - of the usual fries, cheese and gravy, were generous portions of ground beef (hamburger meat), bacon, and hot dog wieners. The best $15 poutine I've ever had, though a bit on the salty side, but nothing a beer (Cheval Blanc, Blanche) couldn't wash down.

4.5/5

The Ever-Quotable Lou Reed

Remember when Lou Reed said his album with Metallica was the best thing ever created? It turns out most people don't agree; some actually feel it's the worst thing ever made. My favourite quote is from a user named lainso:

It made me want to illegally download it, then not listen to it.

Some Metallica fans want to go even further: Reed was told a few of them wanted to kill him:

[They] are threatening to shoot me, and that’s only because I showed up,” Reed said. “They haven’t even heard the record yet, and they’re recommending various forms of torture and death.

Then again, while Rolling Stone gave the record 3/5 stars, their readers gave it a 1; NME went as far as giving it a 7/10; but most sites seem to agree with the line of thought displayed by Pitchfork: 1/10.

Daniel Snyder from The Atlantic even longs for the days when Metallica was at its best merely selling out. Ouch.

Looks like Reed made another Metal Machine Music - only this time, it wasn't intentionally unlistenable.

By the way, I give it a 3/10, myself. And I loved Metal Machine Music.

Dora Bleu, Wiwichu & Will Austin @ Piranha Bar, September 15th, 2011

                                                           (picture by .Cut)


UnPop Montréal 2011 has come to an end, shorter than in past years, but just as awe-inspiring and jaw-dropping. This day-after-my-birthday night was no exception.

Here is the write-up I came up with, in its original bilingual form:

                                                         (poster by Triangles Stuart)

(scroll down for English)

Pour la 7e année consécutive, Sébastian Hell vous présente UnPop Montréal, le festival des shows gratuits du mois de septembre, qui commence le 31 par un lancement de disque et se termine le 22 par un show extérieur d'Arcade Fire. Entrecoupé de shows intérieurs comme celui-ci, de partys ravageurs, et de la fête de votre Messie favori le 14.

Mais revenons aux shows, et plus spécifiquement celui-ci...

DORA BLEU est une artiste multidisciplinaire qui transforme les sons ambiants en musique contemporaine, plus souvent qu'autrement accompagnée de nos musiciens expérimentaux les plus connus (Sam Shalabi, Alex St-Onge, Cloudscapes pour ne nommer que ceux-là).

WILL AUSTIN et son ESCAPE, c'est de la pure folie rock qui nous ramène aux années 60 et 70 dans son délire presque toujours improvisé basé sur de réelles compositions, mais jouées ''sur le moment''. Il est aussi le leader du groupe Shyny Diemyndz, qui abondent dans le même sens.

WIWICHU, eux, tirent la couverte dans un tout autre sens. Parfois ''free jazz'', parfois plus ''rock moderne'', ils tendent à vouloir ensevelir vos références musicales dans un maëlstrom olfactif et sonore qui en déroutera plus d'un.

Et le tout, comme d'habitude, animé de sang-froid par SÉBASTIAN HELL, le légendaire trentenaire qui fait courir les foules full bien.

Et c'est encore et toujours GRATUIT, et ce sera au PIRANHA BAR (680 Ste-Catherine Ouest) pour la toute première fois. On vous y voit?
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UnPop 2011. Year 7. Free shows each September, each sillier and bigger and more entertaining than the last, all gifts to you from Sébastian Hell, Grand Whizzer of this nearly-month-long event.

As a palate cleanser, this first show of the 2011 edition has garnered past performers back for an encore presentation:

DORA BLEU, who made grown men weep and normal music evolve last year is back in a smaller, more intimate setting to mesmerize your senses even more.

The one and only WILL AUSTIN ESCAPE, UnPop veterans since 2007, will show you just how high-energy and spontaneous a rock performance can get, as the modern Huddy Bolly of our times makes his guitar screech as much as his voice in re-interpreted versions of his already-classic epic songwriting.

And first but not least, WIWICHU, a collective of nü-improvisers (all ex-members of bands that have played UnPop before, here in an All-Star setting of sorts) guaranteed to expand your mind in ways even Jim Morrison had never dreamed about.

All that and SÉBASTIAN HELL at the helm, hosting with the boasting, funnier than a barrel of fun keys, in all his intrepid ''I-lost-so-much-weight-but-I'm-still-big'' glory. Oh, and a glory hole out back.

Back where? At PIRANHA BAR, for the very first time. 680 Ste-Catherine West. Formerly an arcade, now a place for awesome music. On the 15th, anyway. And, as usual, FREE.

 Here is a review my friend Albérick wrote about Dora's set; he disliked the setting but seemed to enjoy the performance...

For my part, I was again shocked at the sheer power of Dora's voice, how it takes command over the barrage of sounds her collaborators make. Sure, the experimentations were really nice, the songwriting from whence these tweaks occur is stellar, but the magnitude of her glass-shattering voice keeps hitting me hard. She could fill an arena without a microphone.

And what can I say about Wiwichu? I was expecting well-groomed musicians (which they are, each playing in at least one other band) getting silly, but instead got a direct dose of heavy instrumental funk, which I didn't realize I absolutely needed until I heard it. It grooved like I had no idea it could. I was shocked - and pleasantly surprised.

As for the ever-lasting Will Austin, he's always had the talent to write good songs and make covers (by anybody, from Daniel Johnston to Bob Dylan) his own, and could always come up with an impressive performance, but in the past year or so, he has really achieved a level of consistency I would/could/should not have expected on his part, maybe because of his oh-so-natural delivery, or because he doesn't take himself all that seriously - or at least is very level-headed about his ability to rock a mic with just a guitar. Slowly but surely, he is becoming someone you'll regret not having seen live.

Mexican-ish Guadalupe

The other night, my friend Mark, who I hadn't seen in months, took me to eat at local Mexican-ish (more inspired by than actual typical cuisine) restaurant La Guadeloupe Mexicaine, pictured above (except it wasn't winter).

By no means am I a food critic, but I've eaten a meal or two in my time, and I've forged an opinion on what I like and dislike and I must say... this fell smack-dab in the middle.

At around $15-20 a plate, it was decently priced (especially when you keep in mind a trio at McDonald's now costs over ten bucks...), but the meals themselves weren't anything to write home about. As a matter of fact, I could probably make myself a meal at home that would be better...

But as an evening to experience in good company with great conversation, I'd do it again. The restaurant was a solid 3/5, maybe 3.5.

Academy Awards 2011: Meh...

Goddamn are the Oscars ever getting safe.

Best actor, director, screenplay and film - all from the same film - The King's Speech - which, essentially, is: the story of a guy. He's a guy who happens to be King of England, but he's a guy. The movie does everything it can to bring him down to our level, the level of ''just a guy'', with a speech impediment. Lo and fucking behold, at the end of the fucking movie, he can deliver a goddamn speech. It took him two hours of intense training, he even doubted himself at some point, but in the end, he fucking prevailed. Based on a true story.

You know what else was based on a true story, about a fucking guy who wanted something, but something else stood in the fucking way, but two hours later he fucking prevailed? The Fighter. The Social Network. In 2010? The Wrestler. Benjamin Button.

It's the recipe for every fucking damn safe film ever made.

This year, Toy Story 3 was robbed of its Best Picture Oscar, and Inception was robbed for Best Original Screenplay. Keyword: original. Toy Story was more touching and genuinely heart-breaking than any of its live-action counterparts this year. It's a little miracle of a piece of art. And Inception captured the minds of movie-goers for 8 months - and just about no other movie looked as good. Well, Alice In Wonderland looked great, but it was boring as fuck.

I mean, I knew The Imaginarium Of Dr. Parnassus was way too ''out there'' for Academy voters although it was the best, most original, brilliant, inspiring, ground-breaking and eternal film of this year's crop, but Inception was its more viewer-friendly distant cousin of sorts. And it got a lot of the technical awards, which it deserved.

It's just that in general, this year's crop of winners were too safe: give the huge studios their candy, give a few to the independent films, and give the British period piece the good shit. Melissa Leo's acceptance speech was the best, and no one thanked God. And a few thanked their same-sex life partners (in the Year Of Lesbian Films, no less) - which will probably get the right-wing sociopaths pundits to say the godless Hollywood elite rewarded themselves again - and everyone thanked their parents. Which is good - and safe.

The only person who did exactly what he wanted, the way he wanted to do it, without censoring himself was Kirk Douglas, who hit on every woman in sight and seemed to grab Melissa Leo's boob as he escorted her backstage. Because he doesn't give a fuck, and because he is fully aware that he's lived longer than he has left, and he'll let no one get in his way or in the way of what he wants to do.

Host-wise, Anne Hathaway was alright, but pretty-boy James Franco seemed at times stiff as a corpse, and other times too stoned to function. I miss Jon Stewart and Chris Rock, but perhaps the Academy should think of trying out Stephen Colbert, Jon Lovitz or Johnny Depp - people who would do nothing to displease the mass audience but could also have a second degree for people who like to think. Or why not George Clooney? He's Hollywood royalty and is a definite charmer and crowd pleaser.

When the winners are bland, with no Kathryn Bigelow (first female director), no Halle Berry (first black woman), no Michael Moore (politically active and hugely outspoken on current issues), no Roberto Benigni (the surprise winner who walks over people to get his prize), no ground-breaking and genre-changing film à la Quentin Tarantino's Pulp Fiction, the hosts have to provide the entertainment, steal the show, stir the pot. This year's eye candy did not.

Should the Academy insist on having two hosts at once, here are a few suggestions: Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston; Snoop Dogg and Cheech Marin; Trey Parker and Matt Stone; or Quentin Tarantino and Kevin Smith. And, especially for the last two couples, let them write their own scripts. Then go nuts and nominate innovative films. It'll feel like the 60s and 70s again - good.