Graven - and the Zaphodic night.
Matty pulled out his well stickered guitar - strummed a few chords. Ben followed with a some quick banjo licks. Brandon plug in - you could hear the electric pulse, and the smooth flow of feedback. I've seen and heard this before, but something was different. There was a sonic beat flowing over and through the sound and weaving into the song. St. Cat was there - riding his stool - king of the the drum kit. It was a great show.
Graven did good -the bachlorette party girls surged forward and flung garter belts toward the boys. The just strummed harder and better than ever.
SQ slowly drifted to domestics - he shunned the imports for the bitter bang of a cheap 50. Fisheye followed suit, and Dox popped a few more caps off some quarts.
We kept our eye out for French all night. After the show I saw his bike outside of the Barefax strip club. I waited for a bit and Sweaty and French came out. They had meant to go to the Graven show, but they'd stepped in for a peek at the peelers - and got distracted.
I gave Sweaty a lift - (he crashed on my couch before heading back to the Falls tomorrow).
We saw French moments later. He had a stripper sitting on the handle bars of his dirty old bike, weaving through the drunken market crowd.
5 comments:
French got lucky with a stripper!
A lot of shit can go down when you spend the day at the peeler bar. Back on Canada Day 1995, my friend and I were on the Market, expecting to soak in all the requisite rituals on the Hill. Early in the afternoon, we ducked into that joint (no cover then, right?), and didn't emerge until long after the fireworks were over. I think we even partook in the roast beef buffet. Never paid a cover, though.
To think I missed Sweaty and the elusive French by mere seconds!! Could of capped off a good evening to see him sail by with stripper on his handlebars.
It was surreal.
love down to earth strippers
hp
Fisheye, your avatar represents a epoch in my life where lines of mediocrity were overshadowed by the slow sustained rifs of a telecaster. One lyric comes to mind consistently..."at night when the stars are clear and the moon is shining down...my heart goes running back to you". It was '92 in Petawawa, in the army, under a hooch and under the stars with a sony walkman, thinking of a girl from the falls. That night Neil Young made me cry.
Poot.
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