I’m not the biggest fan of The Stills, but I do appreciate them, and even more, I appreciate when bands play venues much smaller than they normally do. I think the Stills get a bit of a bum rap. They’re disliked by hipsters for being too commercial, but they’re nowhere near commercial enough to be pulling in big bucks. Plus, they released three very good, if not very different records, which can make it hard to carry fans from album to album.

I got there in time to see Most Serene Republic and take a couple of hasty photos. From my position next to the speaker, I was focused more on keeping from going deaf than the actual show.

Thankfully room opened at the front between acts and I got a decent vantage point.

Here is a slideshow from last night’s show and The Stills’ setlist.

Snakecharming
Lola Stars and Stripes
Eastern Europe
Snow in California
Love & Death
Panic
Gender Bombs
In The Beginning
I’m With You
Everything I Build
Still In Love Song
Being Here
Don’t Talk Down
Of Montreal
Hands on Fire
She’s Walking Out

This is a TEASER of an article I am preparing for Chartattack.com

Saying Moneen had a rough go releasing 2006’s The Red Tree is a bit of an understatement. Their first record for U.S. punk label Vagrant took three years to complete and saw plenty of band infighting. Documented in their Juno nominated DVD, “It All Started With A Red Stripe”, this story is cruelly common in the music biz and destroys many a band. Thankfully, Moneen isn’t one of them.

Back in the studio with a producers Brain Montcarz (The Junction) and Grammy-winner David Bottrill (Tool, Muse, King Crimson), the band invited Chartattack to their small Parkdale studio for a chat and to preview some tracks…

FULL ARTICLE COMING SOON.

Well, actually three small business ventures. One being an artist’s cooperative, the second being a not for profit gallery space and the third being finally incorporating myself as a full-time photographer.

I recently got media accreditation for Canadian Music Week through this website, which affords me the freedom to choose what I want to shoot. Here’s a shot from the Bloc Party show at Kool Haus.

Kele Okereke

I’m still in the development stages of this idea, and even if I choose to hold off for now, i’m learning a ton about the process of starting a business.

Here are some other shots i’ve taken in the meantime.

These are the hazards of the White Cowbell Oklahoma live experience. People near the front will get covered in every bodily fluid imaginable.

Like the Edmonton Oilers of the ’80s being forced to trade Wayne Gretzky, the band have dominated the CHARTattack CMW and NXNE report cards so easily with their mind-blowing antics that a moratorium has been placed on their getting reviewed. This night, however, is different. Their XXX-mess holiday show is their most notorious event, and since they promised new material from their upcoming Bombardero album and “Cherished holiday traditions, sullied!” this was a show not to miss.

Montreal veteran prog-punkers GrimSkunk opened to a small, mostly male crowd and were casualties of a storm lovingly nicknamed “Snowmageddon” by many Toronto media types. I felt even worse for Diemonds, who most likely played only for the bartenders.

A keyboard is something rarely witnessed at a punk rock show, but that’s exactly what added an extra layer to GrimSkunk’s sound. It thankfully ensured there was no seven-string guitar on stage or the wankery that usually comes with a guy playing a seven-string guitar. That keyboard probably has a bit to do with them getting the “prog” moniker. Well, that and lyrics like “Black void howling enchanted things as the thunder clouds roll in,” but I found the funk (”Blown To Pieces”) and klezmer (”Perestroiska”) influences just as evident.

Represenatives from the Cloven Path Ministries entertained and horrified the crowd between sets. They performed an abortion on a follower of notorious religious leader and pedophile Warren Jeffs, they faith healed a homosexual (not of homosexuality, but of nagging rectal issues) and peddled their own ministerial merchandise, from photos that stop bullets to a miracle anointing oil that cures everything from AIDS to cancer.

And then it was on to the main event.

White Cowbell Oklahoma are an assault on the senses. They fill your eyes with fireballs, strippers, cowboy hats and capes. They fill your nose with the smell of gasoline fumes and sweat and they fill your ears with southern rock and eventually the fire alarm of whatever venue they’re playing.

Sadly, sound is last on the list because it seems to be an afterthought. Like the snake oil salesmen of the Cloven Path Ministries, they distract you with the dog and pony show because they know the pitch exceeds the product.

White Cowbell Oklahoma don’t have the pure balls-out grit or songwriting ability of C’Mon, yet they’re still authentic and tremendously talented. And isn’t the whole point of a live show to get the audience to do what you want them to do? Be it chanting “Put the south in your mouth” or cheering while Santa sprays you with ejaculate from his gigantic foam penis, the crowd bought it. I was sold, too — if a little soiled.

Unlike her Earth Sciences EP, which kept my attention pretty well throughout, Victory Garden tends to drags through the middle. A who’s who of Toronto indie musicians as guest contributors couldn’t break the monotony of the record. Thankfully things pick up near the end with Escape to the Sun Dome which had me running to the dictionary (winnow: to rid of undesirable parts) and the Adorables-esque Theremin jam, Rien a declarer which rocks in both official languages. Victory Garden is not an outright victory, but worth a listen if you like Laura or any of her many other bands.