Friday evening (October 3) in The project is nowhere He was tireless in his noise, delivery and exchange of messages. Visiting two places, representing completely different approaches to the “panka”, I witnessed how to manipulate the genre to serve many different goals, all under the auspices of the expression. The genre, still infinitely sent by mail, offers groups the opportunity to scream and scream, entertain and provoke, and in Nineteen seventy -eight And Child G.These various motifs were on a complete and blazing display.
With a smoke machine that is inaudible to fill the air with a heavy, synthetic taste, Dirborn, Michi Prostitute He went on stage at nineteen -seventy -eight in front of a tense and excited crowd. The ruthless, atonal and exploding from not monitoring energy, the group attacked with complete force, dazzling, striving lights behind them, as sharp as their high sound.
The random vocals of the singer of the MO somehow rose above the group, perfectly complementing chaotic music caused by four other participants. From the very beginning, the screeching guitars and the flourishing rhythm is a sequence, the true onslaught, when Mo Shimmid vibrated, his shirt opened for depth.
A ugly, transcendental and tireless, their hypnotic set was, of course, one of the best on Friday. For more than half, I held my eyes closed, nodding my head and allowing the fence to overtake me. And I was not the only one: besides the Moshers, next to the back of the venue there was a whole group of dancers in the hall, who humbled and rotate. The songs expanded to the delusional jam-industrial top, noise rock, post-boorish and compressing keyboard-all it appeared, and screamed everywhere, while the group crashed, shone and dangled around him.
The Prostitute set was not just “intense”, it was almost incomprehensible, violent, exhausting. When the music suddenly ended, the voice broke through the speakers, habiting in Arabic when the group was calmly packed and left. Comparisons: They are necessary.
There is maximalist prudence Armed (Which is a high compliment), and by the time they reached the stage, the place is filled to the edges and spirit. There was a delicious feeling of anticipation when the preliminary passage came, the lights turned off while the song was behind the song and smoke after the smoke sprayed around the room. Kraftwerk, Sextile and Amyl and Sniffers played everyone.
Finally, the stream of noise and distortion broke through when the strip of tense or six on stage to applaud. The medical leading vocalist Tony Volski presented the night (“We are here to have a good time!”), And then he began, the crowd of surfer, which appeared only a second after the first number. Volsky answered, jumping into the hands of his fans before the entry ended. (He wore Mike Metz, and then told us that he was in such a great form. “He agreed.)
The living show of armed weapons has unmistakable intensity: it is chaotic and aggressive, but the group’s language is also firmly planted in its cheek. At some moment, the group lost power, and he told us the story of Tim Hortes and his latt almond milk. Volski also continued to repeat how wet and sweaty it was, as if it were that the rest of us did not know. In the end, with the four remaining songs, he promised that they would raise intensity, and that the last song would be “extremely cruel.”
There was a saxophone solo from the multi -instrumentalist Patrick Shiroisha before Mo from a prostitute joined them for a song. The joint vocalist Kara Droolshagen took the central place for several tracks, enjoying stage dives, shouted at the audience and back. At some moment, the crowd Drolshagen ran halfway through the place, stood right on the outstretched hands of the audience, and then made it back onto the stage, screaming into the microphone all the way home.
Basic amplifiers continued to break, and ultimately the singing of “another amplifier” was started, while Wolski Intoning, “50 percent less bass per 100 percent more good times!” Now it's funny. He also added: “Regardless of the fact that it stops working, we continue to go,” and they definitely did, struggling through the starts and stops that go with games in DIY. People danced, mosha and sang, so they clearly had a great time, but I was a little disappointed.
Sweeping, cruel, experimental and ridiculously catching, the music of the group developed huge followers, and their recorded result often inspires and fantastes. Unfortunately, although their performance was moving and sports, she also felt too calculated, too self -conscious, too performive. It was a sight, but which struck all the inevitable notes.
Sometimes mysticism is more than a group, there is almost too much hype to match. Faroki of the crowd became thin as the set continued, and it was obvious that some of the participants – those who had bracelets or peripheral fans – appeared to see what the whole vanity was about. Some remained because they were impressed in this, others did not do it; This is the blessing and curse of the festival performance.
However, the last two songs were explosive. For the final, the last song from their last album, The future is here, and everything should be destroyedVolski presented “more perfect design” as how terrible the world is and how great it is to live in it. He invited people to the stage to sing together, but surprisingly, no one did. In the end, he climbed the wooden racks and jumped into the crowd waiting. As a stream, noise flew through a place, the crowd came out, the distortion followed us to the next place.
Booking it from nineteen seventy -eight to the child G, I did it more than a second: I was one of the last who was let out before the institution reached the capacity. Here, as if! Cacophon and dirty, Violence with a truck Make fun in the face of a partnership until he becomes a partnership, an archers of aggression and fun. They played us, possibly with us, but never for us.
There is nervous negligence, which is caustically combined with punitive, crushing music. This is noise rock, and although it is well suited for the clause of the child G, high sound also means that the vocals of the singer Karsin Henderson were completely recessed from time to time – although this could be just a danger of work. He began to wear a baseball cap and a flannel shirt, but they quickly disappeared, the beader Boxer panties pulled out of his jeans an ideal metaphor.
Photo: Violence with a truck from Jarkens
The smoke constantly flew out of the group, enveloping them with artificial clouds. At some point, the scene was so filled with smoke, a group, so backlight that it looked like a grotesque, nursing shadow game. There is something noble in their absence of claims, their aggression, their chaos with blue collars. This actually seemed a dangerous, but playful way, the group flew through the close quarters of the Baby G. scene.
Their crispy, Slappi-nu-bass (Chris Klegg), excerpts from the conversation and a really great drum (Thomas Hart) on the stage more denser than expected, even at the most accidental moments; They even played a destructive new song about jaundice. Several songs began with the sort of “pah”, an ideal acquaintance with subsequent atonal nightmares.
Photo: Violence with a truck from Jarkens
They left all this on the stage, exhausted and dripped and never complained about it (unlike some groups that claimed that it did not matter, and then they talked about it tirelessly), Henderson once told us: “It was time to reduce what it means to be together.” What a line. Banjo appeared at the end of the filming during a “weapon buried in the yard”, a poisonous respite. The guitarist Paul Lekurs played on his knees, while Henderson deformed and despised his story about the proximity, needs and violence in the microphone. But this Bango – how, damn you, are you joking? Best use in decades. Skraggs turned his shit.
Music sometimes staggers, imperious, exhausting; And yet, despite all the pushing and cacophony, at the end of their set, they hugged each other, hugging and smiling. In its exhaustion and triumph, Lycovy music played through a place before sharply bursting into the darkness. Violence in a truck is dirt under your nails that you do not scatter, acne that you do not burst, the group that you love. If Jonathan Davis from Korn was listened to by Jesus Lizard, we would have received violence with a truck 20 years ago. I am glad that we did not do this – they belong now, and sometimes, this is a great place.
Before starting your set, Urine Leading vocalist Taylor Zantingh gave us a warning about launching topics in her texts, which often deal with sexual and gender violence. The group even gave out free tanks for the ears, because it will be loud (as promised). There were levels of the Fugopia Rules, but you never know who is nearby, and does not want your elbow in the back. And vice versa, it is not convenient for everyone to ask others, if it is normal for the moshny – as the group asked – out of fear from rejection or verification, so this is a thin line. Maybe this led to a more muffled crowd, maybe this is not so.
What delivered Piss was not a set at all: it was repentance, exorcism, resistance. It had a level of artistic art, with interviews and samples and moments of cinematic expression mixed with music. The performance exists intentional discomfort, and it is difficult to decipher how someone should act or respond, but sometimes how art should function. This is conceptually, and the lady is contradictory, abrasive and frankly.
Photo: urine from Atsuko Kobasigawa
There were times when brown, corner music lost to sudden and destructive silence, the voice of Zantingha – equally fierce and fierce – the only sound floating through a place. At some point, she said San: “Some words are more than the bodies … I never knew how to get them out of the mouth,” before the group suddenly covers its noise from dexterity. It was abrasive, Panko and was obliged so much, while still managed to release his own path.
Is this entertainment? Is it fun? Do you like it? Not always, and this is the essence of urine: living music should not always be a good time. Sometimes confrontation is the only way to convey a message. Perhaps this is not about a wallet, even if you want it to be. Perhaps you need to get up and listen. For the group, this is clearly not always about music: this is a message, catharsis.
Photo: urine from Atsuko Kobasigawa
The theater is not devoid of politics, meaning or intent, even if it includes a performance. Music can function in the same way, people who are on the stage take on the views of a character or another person, even another self. Sometimes this is a little obvious in its approach and delivery, but at a time when apathy and alienation are the rule, and we were told not to engage in, not to answer, not to take care, the messages should be stupid and overwhelming. Ultimately, if you can hold the audience enough to listen to see your intentions as good, honest and defiant, you are successful. And this is exactly what urine does.
The show that I saw seemed to be an exercise in concepts, groups using theories, localities, politics and performance, as distinctive factors in their sound and presentation. The fact that on Friday at Project Nothers does not teach us is that there are different delivery methods and express the spirit of punk. Sometimes it is successful, sometimes it is not so, but it is always interesting to watch how it manifests itself. Punk requires something from its audience and its performers. Sometimes the group should prevent the answer; Others, this can allow this to unfold naturally.
There are expectations for both people who listen and for people who speak, and this contradictions, which is why the punk is so exciting: in complex and opposing, this allows you to discuss even when the message is clear and critical. The project is nowhere a prospectus through which these important discussions can occur, and we should all be so happy that such a festival exists in Toronto.
