Tuesday night at the Commodore

Yes, ages since my last post. As a matter of fact, the last one celebrated my new job, 2 months ago. Everything's going great there, but today there's another story to tell. A story of true excitement and joy. Ok, so there we were, and I say we referring to my music soulmate here in Vancouver, Alex and myself. Tuesday evening in Granville St, slipping down our throats couple pitchers of pale ale in the corner pub in order to get us in the proper mood for some good old freaking rock. When the right time came, two $32 dollar tickets let us in through the main door, leading us to what was going to be a memorable event for me. The first thing we noticed were the posters this fellow with a masking-tape with some handwritting sticked in the front of his shirt "Give me your fucking money bitch". Anyway, there were 5 or 6 different poster designs, several cd's and some T-shirts. They were really cool. So cool, that we both ended buying a $25 affiche. And there was this noise, this humming all over the place. A mix between electric-digital noise and speaker feedback. And it was loud enough to obligue everybody there to almost yell to each other in order to get heard. More beers. Then the noise stopped and we all knew the show was about to begin, so all the people started moving toward the stage. We found our spot at 8-10 mts from it and were ready for the heaviness. Did I mention that there were 2 drumkits one beside the other at the stage? Promising -I said to myself. From the darkess appeared the bass player to the right and a drummer in the left kit. He was left-handed. 1-2-3 and he started the beat in a quite agressive yet solid and very progressive groove. The bass jumped into it with it's fuzz distorted loud sound, pushing us all one step back from where we were standing. There they were, only 2 guys making some nastly crunchy funky really heavy and very complex rock with bass and drums only. For at least 15-20 minutes there was no need for anybody else, they sounded as solid and tight and complete as any more-than-two-musicians band. Even much more, 'cause they were fantastic. By the final stage of their performance a guy appeared playing a sunburnst Les Paul, making some chilling bendings filling in the blanks the other guys were leaving for him to play. Awesome 10-15 minutes. Then came the first and only pause of the concert where the guitar player became the 'other' drummer, taking his place in the kit at the right, while Buzz Osborne walked in from the left with his black Les Paul. I don't need to say that everybody there were going crazy, including us, yelling clapping, whistling, jumping, because we all knew what was going to happen. The previous trio was just the opening act, a very impressive and efective opening act that could easily ashame many of these days main ones. Now it was time for the fucking Melvins. With his peculiar shiny hairdo and delivering the evil eye as in cue to begin, they started playing. Guitar, vocals, bass and 2 drums, what a steamroller. The drummers played in such a total sync that it was practically impossible not to get infected with their hard grooves. There were couple of long trances where only they played the rythm, no fills, no chops, just the groove, simply astonishing. The Melvins designed their concert to be as direct and clear as a true rock concert should ever be, and the funny thing is that in one of my previous life's in music, I suggested we should perform live using that same strategy of no-rest and no-stop artistic showcase. For an hour and a half, the fucking Melvins delivered one of the best live experiences I have ever witnessed, showing a really mature, tight, impressive, progressive yet natural and escencial way of playing rock. Only a couple of 'classics' were part of their never-ending set, encouraging the dancers to make what they should do in a ballroom like the one we were all at: slam. Alex jumped joyfully from the third row where we were at that moment, trying to drag me into it also, but I apart from the fact that I skinny and tiny compared with the 'dancers' I was too drunk to get into this gigantic human blender. Even though I haven't heard 90% of the playlist before, I only needed to let myself slip in and go naturally with the flow of the tunes I was listening for the first time. And it worked like a clockwork, because I was dancing, grooving and screaming in cue as if I've been listening to their repertoire since my early years. Anyhow, the Melvins performed a true classy act, a true heavy show. From a purist point of view, I'd say that is the best live experience I've had, and I know it may sound too pretentious, but they certainly showed me exactly what I want to do with my own band: a true rock experience.

Sing a mean tune, kid
Sock 'em in the gut, yeah, yeah, yeah
Don't you ever let your mama catch you cryin'

Play the bad song, kid
Everyone's the blues yeah, yeah, yeah
And the people never know you're only lying

What a scary song, kid
Never heard before yeah, yeah, yeah
Soon the groupies will start rolling by your door

Burn the groove to death, kid
Nail 'em to the cross yeah, yeah, yeah
Till you're not a super pop star any more

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