Note: This post has been rewritten since I can't figure out where the original violated the "Community Guidelines" -- they don't exactly tell you what you have to remove/ change.
I had figured Night Court might play last night. Their set was unannounced but the reasons for that were obvious: they had just returned from Germany, have a big gig this Sunday, and the space was pretty small, all of which, to one who reads the signs, lines up to indicate an unannounced gig. This happened in the damp, graffiti-covered basement of an East Van punk house that has been around forever (but that I had never been to before; nor had Emilor!).
Alf House is the kind of place with a bathroom that has a sink that doesn't work to such an extent that it is now being used as a storage shelf (note: not the actual shelf pictured, thanks, though I did snap that in the bathroom). The can still works, which is all I needed, but part of the overheard conversations last night involved someone who had not completed the transaction with it (I must be coy in writing this; I seem to be being mindlessly harrassed by bots that are not allowing me to publish it, so I'm trying a few angles). Fortunately, the item left behind was taken as an omen of good luck by the opening band, when the singer went to use the can and found a surprise waiting for him there: "I knew it would be a good gig when I saw it!"
Between Code-22 and Night Court came two poetry readings, which had been the primary focus of the Night-Court-free gig poster. You'd assume Daryl Gussin was the headliner!
Gussin (website here) did the funnier poetry, including one called "Daryl" involving dogs barking in a way that sounded like his name. The poem even involved him barking an imitation of the dogs. Never heard that at a poetry reading before! He also did a piece called "Ringo" that also involved dogs, but that I cannot replicate here. I woulda/ coulda bought a book if the gig had been on Friday (payday) but I got $20 in my pocket and need to buy lunch today, so no, sorry, no poetry books were bought, PWYC or not. I enjoyed what Gussin did, though, and that he did a poem that was inspired by hearing Night Court cover ABBA (see below).
I had never heard that one before, so I Googled if such things are usually considered lucky, anywhere in the world. According to the AI overview, this is not, by the way, a usual reading of this phenomenon. I suggest you do you own research on this point: you will learn that culturally, such un-completed business is usually regarded as an omen of BAD luck, not good...
But don't tell that to Code-22, because their set rocked! Catchy pop punk songs played with enthusiasm and a drummer who looks like a young Stephen DePace (am I the only person there who was old enough to make that connection?). Bassist/ singer Pete was also one of the more enthusiastic dancers during Night Court's set, too, a bit later on, which is always good to see. He explained to me that a "Code-22" was intercom code for shoplifting at a grocery store where he had worked, and that the song I video'd was called "Big Brown Eyes". I meant to also videotape "Sam" (AKA "Sam, You Well," which is on their bandcamp), but I forgot to hit the actual start button. And I had people colliding into me from behind, so it woulda been rough anyhow.
Incidentally, Code 22 will be playing this Saturday at Take Your Time along with Easy Feat (the headliner, I think), Big Hoax, and Stale (the only other band who appear to have a bandcamp). Pete mentioned it would be their last gig for awhile, so if you like what you're hearing, check it out (the Starling Effect, with John Lucas, plays Take Your Time on Friday, incidentally!).
Between Code-22 and Night Court came two poetry readings, which had been the primary focus of the Night-Court-free gig poster. You'd assume Daryl Gussin was the headliner!
The audience, being civilized, shut up and listened to the poetry, quite attentively and quite understandably, because some of it was pretty powerful. A bunch of scruffy poor punks were more respectful and appreciative of spoken poetry than your average paying audience at a $40 gig the Rickshaw or the Commodore or so forth. Gotta love that!
Of the two poets, James Norman (who actually performed first, and I think was up from Las Vegas; he's doing a poetry tour with Gussin, which also involves a reading in Seattle this weekend, I think) had the more potent/ powerful imagery, holding our attention to go off mic for his final poem, but -- well, I'm just gonna tell him/ you what I thought: he also had the least "editorial self-discipline," shall we say (or least concern FOR editorial self-discipline; he might just not care!). For instance, he read a really intense poem about Eric Garner, which he meditated on while driving though Vegas during a heatwave, during which he encountered (if I've got this right) the a homeless man who had succumbed to a heatwave, with a foot sticking out from a tarp; it was angry, potent, and packed several powerful, politically-charged punches, and was probably the most truly "punk rock" moment of the night. Powerful stuff (it was my first guess as to why the bots were flagging this. Still don't exactly know).
But (like another poem he did about being part of a group of strangers who were trying to resuscitate someone who had collapsed on the street), Norman arrived at a few spots where he could have ended perfectly, but did not: he would reach the emotional high point, the thing you as an audience member will want to remember, take away and think about--"I hope someone stops for me," or lines to that effect--but ya can't DO that, because he's still reading, and the same poem, too, now on page three, like a movie that reaches its climax and then has a 10 minute denouement that fills you with impatience, trying to hang on to the emotional impact you experienced back there... essentially, he distracts you from himself!
Mind you, I write all this as someone who, in his 20+ years as a published, and occasionally even paid, writer, has met his wordcount maybe twice (ask my editors). In any case: Gussin was more disciplined, tighter and funnier, Norman was more powerful and passionate but sprawling. Two very different poets. I shot clips of both: Gussin (doing the Night Court/ ABBA poem; I started the recording after he read the title, but it's in there!) and James Norman (his shortest piece!). In fact either were their best poems, but for those, you will just have to go see them in Seattle or something (dates are on Daryl's Instagram).
Mostly I was just happy that people listened to them! Incidentally, James' shirt reads, "Too Cool for this Planet."
Then it was time for Night Court's set. They played some of their most furious songs -- including a new one I didn't record -- and a few off the newest album, like "Captain Caveperson" (that's a link to their bandcamp). I shot a couple of clips: "Mistakes Become You," with Emilor on lead vocals, and the final three, including "Happy Birthday" (in honour of Jiffy's 50th, which was not actually last night) and two I don't know (yet), also including Emilor's wrapping of Jiffy's bloody injured finger. I have decided that Night Court is the most accident-prone band in Vancouver. I wonder if Jiffy did any skateboarding in Germany?
He seemed intact, anyhow. His substitute bassist from his last injury, Ty, was actually in the audience taking photos!
About Germany: It had been Emilor's first trip to Europe as a musician and she tells me it was a great tour, with lots of weird gigs where they were the only band on the bill, but the room filled up anyhow on the strength of the promoter's rep (and maybe my timely Ox Fanzine article: so glad that happened!). Apparently they played a chocolate factory. Apparently Emilor has photos. I'd sure like to see those!
But here are mine from last night:
So it was a real fun night. Jeffrey of the Tranzmitors was there and we chatted about his Facebook record walls (which he plans to take back into the 1950s! He's currently doing a yearly trek back through the past via his record collection, and tells me that when you get back to 1956, there really aren't that many albums to document! We also talked about how Tranzmitors guitarist Nick Thomas (also on the bill for the Neptoon birthday celebrations on Sunday, with the Vicious Cycles) is one of the best guitarists in Vancouver, but appears to be completely, refreshingly free of any rockstar ego, which was actually my observation, which I arrived at by recently talking at some length to Nick (not present last night) about the upcoming Young Fresh Fellows gig (have you got a ticket yet? Selling well!) and the Smugglers (who have a new reissue of Selling the Sizzle!) and Nardwuar and... well, more on that later.
Also present at Alf was Byron Slack of Invasives and De*d Bob, who, like me, had no idea how to get into Alf House, despite Invasives having played there in the past. He said he tried to get in a backdoor entrance, at first, and ended up crashing into equipment, while I had walked up the front steps, which is apparently a bad idea, because there are cats that might run out. None did, but there is a sign on the inside of the door, which I did not see til after I was inside.
There are altogether too many steps at Alf -- I went up three different staircases (and down two of them, one twice). Does Alf stand for Animal Liberation Front, or, like, is it really a ref that sitcom alien? Is there an activist element to the space? One nice thing I noticed (and jabbered about to Byron in the back lot afterwards) was that there was more than one tag on the walls and doors that read "Moloch!!"
I would like to congratulate anyone tagging spaces with" Moloch!!" for the obscure but potent/ meaningful reference. As I explained to Byron and his crew, Moloch (as I recall: I have not Googled it, but you are welcome to) was a Babylonian fire deity that ancient peoples used to make offerings to (which I realize now might be the source of all my problems, but, like, see here). Allen Ginsberg mentions Moloch in "Howl," describing himself as a "c0cks..cker in Moloch" (which would be a great song title). There is also a line about "Moloch in whom I sat lonely," which, when I was a teenager, I typed out and pinned to my bedroom walls in Maple Ridge, amidst the gig posters and art and horror movie posters and a colour photocopy of a naked Attila Richard Lukacs skinhead painting (no, I'm not gay). So whoever is doing Moloch tags: I approve.
Most fun I have had on a Monday night in awhile. Thanks, all!
All photos by Allan MacInnis. Blogpiece, too. Seeya at the Neptoon anniversary gig, Night Court!
No comments:
Post a Comment