Kick out the jammy jams

I recently got a new set of pajamas. I’d been wearing my old pair for at least a decade and change, but after numerous washings in questionable quarter-slot Laundromats, they finally became threadbare and started falling apart. I could live with the fact that I was greeting my mailman each day looking like a shipwrecked […]

I recently got a new set of pajamas. I’d been wearing my old pair for at least a decade and change, but after numerous washings in questionable quarter-slot Laundromats, they finally became threadbare and started falling apart. I could live with the fact that I was greeting my mailman each day looking like a shipwrecked castaway clad in shredded flannel, but once the elastic band finally went south in the waist, I had to face facts: it was time for a change.

That’s kind of what it was like dutifully serving the Montreal Mirror for 16 years: comfortable as hell, but after austerity measures were enforced, the paper started unravelling. Not that I’m really whining here, though. Getting paid to write about music? Are you kidding me? That was the best gig any show/record nerd could ever hope for. Unfortunately, due to constant squeezing of the belt in the last year, the elastic band finally gave way on the Mirror’s jammy jams, leaving the freelance folks’ bare asses hanging in the wind.

This leads me to this column, and I’m pleased as punch to be tapping out my gibberish about the Montreal music scene and hopefully turning some people on to some bands along the way. Much like my column Punkusraucous Rex was not exclusively about punk rock, this column is also not about, uh, mods. As with my previous venue, my hope is to use this bandwidth to turn you troglodytes on to the best underground music our fair burg has to offer. Are we square here? Okay, then let me put a sock in it, and let’s get all up in it.

Wednesday: Although it may be Lower Dens that shine brightest on the marquee, the middle slot, taken up by local shoegazers No Joy, is the real reason you should be heading down to Il Motore on hump night. Opening is Alan Resnick.

Thursday: Serious crooner BBQ, aka Mark Sultan (of King Khan & BBQ Show, les Sexareenos, the Spaceshits and a tonne more), has finally come back to his senses and returned town after a short spell in Toronto. Welcome him home in style when he guests behind the wheels of steel with Mathieu Beauséjour at Panda Bar, as part the latter’s weekly rock night Jeudi Nasty.

Friday: Definitely don’t be tardy when Iceage liquefies the fillings in your teeth with their amplified Joy Division assault at Il Motore. Adding further ballast to this bill are Milk Music, Ames Sanglantes and the industrial beat-down of Strong Boss. If their show at Casa a year ago is any indication, this should mash your puny mind to little bits.

Saturday: Iceage is no slump, but the real big ticket this week would be the reunion of one of the last great punk rock bands: Refused. They’re at Metropolis with cool-as-fuck openers Off!, featuring Redd Kross’s Steven McDonald, Hot Snakes’ Mario Rubalcaba and punk rock god/ex-Black Flag and Circle Jerks frontman Keith Morris. Most reunions are just cash-grabs, but after falling into a YouTube k-hole while watching video from Refused’s current tour, this is guaranteed to draw blood. This show will be nothing short of legendary. ■

Current obsession: High on Fire, The Art of Self Defense

Jonathan.cummins@gmail.com

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