(Found here.)
How to survive the retail/service industry: refuse to learn any customer names. They don't deserve your friendship, and they'll only break your heart in the end. It's much better (and healthier) to serve them their drinks and quietly hate them. No, really.
Sled Island, in a nutshell, for me:
Wednesday: I don't care about Cat Power. Fuck off.
Thursday: Hey, look, that godawful Dan Bejar-project, Destroyer, is playing at the church across from my work, which means that a thousand of his little clones will want to sip iced soy lattes while they listen to his wank. Dan Bejar should be sodomized with a roto-rooter for inflicting such irredeemable crap onto our brains. Hey, look! CBC wants to tape Chad VanGaalen, and not him! There IS a god.
The Summerlad is STILL the best that Calgary has to offer, musically. I shit you not. Even if I only caught four songs out of their My Bloody Valentine tribute, it was far more enjoyable than discovering that Ocean & Rachel had dragged me to a motherfucking Dudes show afterwards (because they're nice guys, and they try to make sure that everyone has a good time at their shows, I shall refrain from calling The Dudes a glorified bar band. Seriously, though: check out Dojo Workhorse instead. It's MUCH better). Ladies: you OWE me.
Friday: things that annoyed me at the Spoon show:
The two lumbering, 7-foot-tall amorphous twins who danced in front of me as though they'd been raised on Huey Lewis and The News.
The threesome that felt as though they had to dance 'Peanuts' style in front of me every time they met a new friend at the show.
(This is where I wish a big bag of cancer on a certain scenester who really needs to be beaten, but I won't name him because then he'll get even more attention. But, dude, seriously: I need to stop seeing you everywhere I go. I spent the better part of the Spoon encore trying to come up with a way to pick a fight with you, simply because you need to be punched many times in the head; then I realized that I'd be the asshole in that scenario, so I stopped, but I didn't feel THAT badly about it...)
Other than that: Spoon is one of those fantastic bands that play their songs pretty much the way they sound on their albums, with very little deviation, so that you don't spend ten minutes asking yourself if you came to the wrong venue. All bands should be like this (Exception to this rule: Wilco can play their songs any which way they'd like because they are awesome and I want to carry their babies even if they seem to wanna be Woody Guthrie of late...). Also I like the way Britt Daniel plays his guitar like he's aiming a Thompson machine gun.
Fuck, that was a good show. Even the dancing people didn't REALLY annoy me, because they were having a good time, too. I'm sure I'll get an earful of "...but all they did was get up and play their songs it was so boooooooorrrrrrrriiiiiiinnnnnnnggggggggg...", since Calgary's typical audience is fickle and aggressively insecure and therefore pays more attention to who came to the show as opposed to who's actually PLAYING ONSTAGE, but, hey, I enjoyed it, so fuck the rest of you.
Mother Mother was like a country/indie-rock cabaret on a steam-engine locomotive plowing through Mac Hall, despite what Paul referred to as their chipmunk-esque vocal style (it's true), which was actually kind of endearing after a few songs; and Hot Little Rocket were quite good, speeding through their set in less than half an hour because they'd rather be watching Spoon instead of playing. Andrew said right at the beginning, "...we've all got better things to do and better bands to watch...", but, hey, I bought the HLR album tonight (produced by Steve Albini, yeah, well, whatever...), and I NEVER buy albums at shows. I'm a bastard that way.
Also: when did it become cool to start dressing like Ralph Macchio circa Karate Kid? Honestly, why do we recycle all the stupid fashions, and none of the good ones? Y'all look like retards, just like you did back in the 80's. Stop wearing headbands, stop wearing neon, stop wearing ill-fitted blazers, stop popping your collars, and get a fucking haircut, alla you. It's not funny, it's sad, and ten years from now you'll hate yourselves.
Anyway, that's Sled Island for me, because I work tomorrow night which means I have to miss Eric Bachmann (he of Archers Of Loaf/Crooked Fingers fame. FUCK.), but I'm sure it'll be wonderful because...well, I don't know. I won't be there, and this is causing me a great amount of grief, but I now have better ways to get over it than cheap alcohol and internet porn. Still, I'm crying on the inside.
Sled Island, in a nutshell, for me:
Wednesday: I don't care about Cat Power. Fuck off.
Thursday: Hey, look, that godawful Dan Bejar-project, Destroyer, is playing at the church across from my work, which means that a thousand of his little clones will want to sip iced soy lattes while they listen to his wank. Dan Bejar should be sodomized with a roto-rooter for inflicting such irredeemable crap onto our brains. Hey, look! CBC wants to tape Chad VanGaalen, and not him! There IS a god.
The Summerlad is STILL the best that Calgary has to offer, musically. I shit you not. Even if I only caught four songs out of their My Bloody Valentine tribute, it was far more enjoyable than discovering that Ocean & Rachel had dragged me to a motherfucking Dudes show afterwards (because they're nice guys, and they try to make sure that everyone has a good time at their shows, I shall refrain from calling The Dudes a glorified bar band. Seriously, though: check out Dojo Workhorse instead. It's MUCH better). Ladies: you OWE me.
Friday: things that annoyed me at the Spoon show:
The two lumbering, 7-foot-tall amorphous twins who danced in front of me as though they'd been raised on Huey Lewis and The News.
The threesome that felt as though they had to dance 'Peanuts' style in front of me every time they met a new friend at the show.
(This is where I wish a big bag of cancer on a certain scenester who really needs to be beaten, but I won't name him because then he'll get even more attention. But, dude, seriously: I need to stop seeing you everywhere I go. I spent the better part of the Spoon encore trying to come up with a way to pick a fight with you, simply because you need to be punched many times in the head; then I realized that I'd be the asshole in that scenario, so I stopped, but I didn't feel THAT badly about it...)
Other than that: Spoon is one of those fantastic bands that play their songs pretty much the way they sound on their albums, with very little deviation, so that you don't spend ten minutes asking yourself if you came to the wrong venue. All bands should be like this (Exception to this rule: Wilco can play their songs any which way they'd like because they are awesome and I want to carry their babies even if they seem to wanna be Woody Guthrie of late...). Also I like the way Britt Daniel plays his guitar like he's aiming a Thompson machine gun.
Fuck, that was a good show. Even the dancing people didn't REALLY annoy me, because they were having a good time, too. I'm sure I'll get an earful of "...but all they did was get up and play their songs it was so boooooooorrrrrrrriiiiiiinnnnnnnggggggggg...", since Calgary's typical audience is fickle and aggressively insecure and therefore pays more attention to who came to the show as opposed to who's actually PLAYING ONSTAGE, but, hey, I enjoyed it, so fuck the rest of you.
Mother Mother was like a country/indie-rock cabaret on a steam-engine locomotive plowing through Mac Hall, despite what Paul referred to as their chipmunk-esque vocal style (it's true), which was actually kind of endearing after a few songs; and Hot Little Rocket were quite good, speeding through their set in less than half an hour because they'd rather be watching Spoon instead of playing. Andrew said right at the beginning, "...we've all got better things to do and better bands to watch...", but, hey, I bought the HLR album tonight (produced by Steve Albini, yeah, well, whatever...), and I NEVER buy albums at shows. I'm a bastard that way.
Also: when did it become cool to start dressing like Ralph Macchio circa Karate Kid? Honestly, why do we recycle all the stupid fashions, and none of the good ones? Y'all look like retards, just like you did back in the 80's. Stop wearing headbands, stop wearing neon, stop wearing ill-fitted blazers, stop popping your collars, and get a fucking haircut, alla you. It's not funny, it's sad, and ten years from now you'll hate yourselves.
Anyway, that's Sled Island for me, because I work tomorrow night which means I have to miss Eric Bachmann (he of Archers Of Loaf/Crooked Fingers fame. FUCK.), but I'm sure it'll be wonderful because...well, I don't know. I won't be there, and this is causing me a great amount of grief, but I now have better ways to get over it than cheap alcohol and internet porn. Still, I'm crying on the inside.
5 comments:
FUCK YOU, I'M GOING FOR BREAKFAST. AND I stole your friends last night (well, for like, 5 minutes. while Jay and Potter shotgunned beer in the back alley of the castle and then potter threw up in front of his lady friend.) They're pretty much better than you, and I'm going to leave you for them within the week.
Also: Jay's working swing shift tonight, so you and your cranky can just go sit in the staff room. We'll take care of shit and NO CRANKY PANTS ALLOWED. okok i give. You get to be crazy but I'm gonna drink delicious juices and espresso floats and I'll be SO GODDAMNED ENDEARING that you'll smaile and maybe talk and stuff once in a while. YES YOU WILL
Oh yes. We're bad people & forgot your Ipod at work. I'm preparing to be beaten.
And I CAN'T TYPE. I blame it on the PC. thiese things are pieces of SHIT.
I don't think we can be friends anymore. That comment was way too hurtful. I'm going to go drown mys orrows in Dan Bejar songs now.
Man, I wish I read these comments when they were timely. All I can think to say now is "fuck YOU & fuck you Dan Bejar shit. I'm sick of your whiny emo bullshit coming between me and my whiny skronk music."
Oh wait... I think I just drew a sort of parallell between Destroyer and Nurse With Wound. I thihk I'm going to have to go hang myself with my own intestines now.
You are such a classy lady.
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