What What and such.

Initially, I was concerned that kids were being sent the wrong message about a most likely unattainable life of ghetto glitz and glamour, paid for by misogynistic lyrics, endorsement deals with failing auto companies, and appearances on MTV's Cribs. However, once you're 8 years old, you are well-grounded enough to realize that these phony grillz are simply a novelty item and by no means represent the various taboos of the hip hop industry. 

The ghosts regarded

Sebastien Grainger - It's a Living

Mice. Rabbits. Cats. Canines.

I had the pleasure this past weekend of attending dd/mm/yyyy's Black Square release show at Lee's. About a month ago I was on the verge of adopting a blasé attitude towards the Toronto art-punk math-rock quintet, primarily on account of my few awkward meetings with vocalist/guitarist/occasional percussionist Tomas del Balso, which consisted of conversations that made me feel like too much of a fanboy, and that unfortunate Toronto hipster attitude to shun anything local. 

Thankfully, I have moved far past that stiff-lipped (.com) arrogance. 

I will go ahead and state that Black Square is my favourite album of 2009 thus far. That is a rather bold statement considering that I have had a leak of Manchester Orchestra's Mean Everything to Nothing in my digitally-rendered hands for a month or so now. Not to suggest that the Manchester Orchestra album is by any means disappointing--I simply have been blown away by Black Square.... and I maaaaayyyyy have set the bar a little high for Mean Everything to Nothing. 

dd/mm/yyyy perfectly captured the upbeat tempo of Black Square at Thursday's release show. They played incessantly, rarely pausing to catch a breath in between songs. It also helped that note for note they sounded spot-on, the overall mix was fantastic (especially for Lee's Palace, which generally disappoints me), I had a perfect spot elevated slightly beside the stage, and the place was packed. 

Opening band Metz did not disappoint either. The Toronto three-piece has surfaced on the music scene at the perfect time, as their hardcore grunge is a refreshing kick in the pants amidst the lo-fi bullshit everyone pretends to like. 

As a gift to my loyal reader(s), I will grant you the opportunity to listen to dd/mm/yyyy's 2007 album Are They Masks?, a 20-track opus that is quite a bit stylistically different from Black Square. The songs are a little less structured and accessible and essentially remind me of an intoxicated version of The Chinese Stars. 

dd/mm/yyyy - Are They Masks?

The elusive larrikin, the observant outsider

Siblings Angus and Julia Stone surely were bred on some type of Australian commune far from the maniacal grasps of mainstream society. They certainly were unaware of television growing up, only read fairy tales, and probably were only allowed to watch one silent French film a week (projected onto a barren wooden wall using their father's turn of the century projector), only after six hours of harpsichord practice followed by two hours of theoretical string arrangement. 

Their music has an angelic, warm fuzzy-inducing innocence that soothes you down to the core. Perfectly compliments a Sunday evening at dusk, as you sip tea and try not to look directly into the sun because your Mother's voice is still in the back of your head (and then you realize your Mother is actually standing behind you, telling you not to look directly into the sun...go inside, Mom, dinner's not going to cook itself).  

Beyond the beauty of their music, Angus and Julia are, well, beautiful. Angus resembles a handsome drifter, with just the right amount of scraggly ruggedness. He is the type of man who mysteriously knocks at your door, in need of a place to sleep and perhaps a hot meal. You are initially a little skeptical due to his long hair and puffy beard. However, within the first hour he fixes the stove, teaches your children how to whittle, sings your constantly crying baby to sleep, and reminds you and your husband/wife/mistress why you fell in love (done so through some possibly fictitious "true story" told over dinner). Julia resembles a Shakespearean heroine, but one of the foxier, more self-aware ones who is able to fend for herself. Initially, she is set to marry some spoiled brat Prince, but learns of his devious plans to marry her and ultimately whore her out to the village in order to earn enough money to build a fantastical flying boat that will take him to the moon. She outwits the Prince by framing him for the murder of his own Uncle (who happened to just die of natural causes) and he is then imprisoned for life. 

Angus and Julia Stone - A Book Like This

Palestinians on Speakerphone vs HIV Marmot

A friend of mine recently described now-defunct Rhode Island noise rock nudists Arab on Radar as "AIDS Wolf, but good." The unfortunately diseased Canidae he utilized for this comparison is the provocatively-named Montréal noise thrash band. 

Unfortunately, Arab on Radar broke up a little before my time (2003 to be exact...not that I was not yet into music at that time, I simply could not comprehend noise rock back then) and I never had the chance to see their chaotic live performances (that apparently were replete with nudity). On the other hand, I have had the deafening pleasure of seeing AIDS Wolf a few times now and have left each show with a sore body and ringing ears. I am unsure of the long-term effects to my overall health these shows have spawned, but I hope when I sit in my rocking chair in Boca and have to say "what?" more than Small John, Disreputable Big, and all those other rapping fellows I will believe the hearing loss to be worth it. 

I do not believe Arab on Radar to be a "better" AIDS Wolf. Yes, they both employ spiraling, heavily distorted guitars, screeching vocals, and vertigo-inducing stop-start rhythm, but I find it difficult to compare the two bands. In fact, I liken Arab on Radar more to the Mae-Shi if anyone. But who am I to judge? Decide for yourself, you blog-gazing scoundrel!

Arab on Radar - Yahweh or The Highway

Arab on Radar - Rough Day at The Orifice

AIDS Wolf - Cities of Glass

AIDS Wolf - The Lovvers

SQUEEZE AWAY, BITCHES, THAT'S HOW I ROLL

DOG, DARRYL, LISTEN UP MAN. YES, I KNOW YOU ONLY WANT TO BE CALLED THE D-DOG OR DOUBLE-D, BUT DAVE BEAT YOU TO IT, BRO. FUCK MAN, PUT DOWN THE JAGER AND CHECK THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE. WHAT? NO, TURN DOWN "BICYCLE RACE" AND COME HERE. HAHA, NO, I'M NOT GONNA COCK-SLAP YOU AGAIN, BRAH.

ANYWAY MAN, CHECK THIS SHIT. FUCK COORS LIGHT. FUCK JAGERBOMBS. FUCK REV, VEX, ZIMA, 100-PROOF JAMAICAN RUM MY DAD GOT AT THE ALL-INCLUSIVE WITH HIS SECRETARY, ALL THAT SHIT IS GAY NOW. I PICKED UP A FUCKING SIXER OF BURGER SHOTS, BRO. LET'S DOWN THESE PUPPIES! YEEEAHHH. THEN LET'S PARTY IT UP, I GOT THE NEW MSTTARHDAKAHGCCRTF CD. NO DOG, IT'S NOT GAY DANCE MUSIC, IT'S THAT MUSTACHE GUY FROM DRAFT PUNX OR SOMETHING.