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On a night that featured dozens of artists performing in and around the city, there was only one show in Montreal I had my heart set on for the last month or so…

The Asexuals – Original Lineup - ONE NIGHT ONLY – With the 222s and Hollerado

If you’re from Montreal, and you’re familiar with its legendary punk rock past, then you probably swell up with pride at the mere mention of John Kastner, Alex Soria or Psyche Industry records. It’s fair to say that much of the show’s attendees had most likely been part of an Asexuals circle pit at Foufounes some 20+ years ago. It wouldn’t be a stretch to assume that many of these concert goers hadn’t seen each other, since.

That’s what made this concert that much more gratifying.

Stepping into the Cabaret on this particular night was not only a homecoming for this legendary punk quartet, it was a well-overdue reunion of music lovers and mutual friends. Friends that were (and still are) part of Montreal’s music scene in the ‘80s and ‘90s with The Doughboys, Asexuals, Me Mom & Morgentaler, The 222s and the Nils, among others.

Since this was a busy night on the town, I had missed what was apparently a terrific opening set by Ottawa-area power-poppers Hollerado. I bought their Record in a Bag a few months back due to its novelty, and a few friendly recommendations; I will now listen to it again on the assumption that I’ll enjoy it more, for some reason, this time. Does that make sense?

Following them was one of Montreal’s original punk rock groups, the legendary 222s. Sadly, I had missed their earlier reunion shows during Toronto’s NXNE festival this past summer. It would be safe to say that it wouldn’t happen again, as they were no ordinary opening act. If you were there, what you saw was a  one-man entertainment android whose sole purpose was to keep your eyes from blinking. Yes, Chris Barry, frontman of the 222s mesmerized the packed house with stage moves straight out of Mick Jagger’s playbook. Along with punk rock gems like “Hold Up” and “Academic Drop” he and his band mates delivered one of the finest opening sets I’ve experienced in ages.

As a band that has distinct sonic ties to the Stooges and the New York Dolls, I pray they don’t follow suit and release new material on par with “Cause I Sez So” or “The Weirdness”, that would be just plain awful.

After a brief intermission, the months of anticipation had finally led up to this: John Kastner, Sean Friesen, T.J Collins and Paul Remington took to the stage for the first time in 25 years. As the lights dimmed, the signature drum/bassline to “Be What You Want” began, and the wait was finally over. The Asexuals were back, and though it might’ve only been a brief homecoming of sorts, the crowd was more than thrilled to be witnessing one of the most astounding reunions to hit our fair city.

The audience consisted of seasoned punk veterans, long-time fans, squeegee kids, music geeks and parents that paid the babysitter a little extra for the night. The one thing everyone had in common, was the goofy teenaged grin that wouldn’t go away for 24 hours. As a first time attendee (I was 2 when the Primitive Air-Raid comp came out), I was knocked senseless, figuratively AND literally in the circle pit near the front of the stage. A fan resembling Andre the Giant was really good at kick-starting ‘em… kudos!

In all honesty, it was tough not to go nuts during the show. There was the furious pace of “Contra Rebel”, the need to sing along to classics “Ego Trip” and “New World Order”, along with a few other surprises left in store. Take for instance, the classic Asexuals version of Dylan’s “The Times They Are A Changin’”, or perhaps their feverish take on “Pressure Drop”, undoubtedly one of the catchiest songs ever penned. Their encore featured a ground-shaking version of The Clash’s “Safe European Home” and closing the night was a fitting ode to the Nils with “Young Man In Transit”.

Although The Asexuals received some stiff competition from other PopMtl venues that night, this was the only show that was a true necessity. Over the last couple of days, I’d had my fill of lame electro-pop, over-hyped parties and douches attempting to bring the moustache back. Instead of talking to brain-dead fashionista scenesters, I met people in the middle of comparing the ‘Mats & Hüsker Dü to The Asexuals and The Doughboys. Rather than discussing guestlists or the avant-garde… I met a man who played a mean air-guitar… WITH HIS CANE !!!?!

Best show of the year, so far. (And hey, if you missed it… I shot a few videos and put e’m on Youtube)

”Pressure Drop”: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nMxdfz_L9pU
”Ego Trip”: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PjNh_FgiWOQ&feature=related

Mike B
The Lonesome Strangers
Playing his Mixtapes, Tuesday nights from 8 to 10pm

The cool kids get all the credit. Soundtracks for the Blind, Swans' "final" record from 1994, seemed to create a new sonic universe just in time for the band to implode - over two hours, it employed 15-minute epics (particularly "Helpless Child," a song that may or may not have helped invent vocal post-rock), ambient pieces, and experimental works often driven by distressing bits of found sound. It changed the listening habits of many who heard it, yours truly included, but the band are often thought of as simply 1980s goth industrialists. Yes, their work touched on industrial, but also on metal, folk, art-rock, and the avant-garde (particularly for the era that included second vocalist Jarboe). Now, after a 15-year hiatus, bandleader Michael Gira, who has since labored under the name Angels of Light, has decided to partially reassemble the group and start the Swans mission over. The resulting first recording, My Father Will Guide Me Up a Rope to the Sky, is one of the year's best records, a ferocious, funny and scary masterwork that rivals some of the band's best work.

Opener Baby Dee was a mildly incongruous choice. An avant-blues-folk harpist with an extremely polarizing vocal technique, Dee immediately set out to set the crowd at ease in the face of her deeply eccentric tunes. "No one's ever just stopped me and said, you know, you stink," she implored, "so I want everyone to chant with me: 'your music stinks, and you stink!'" It was a request some of the more restless members of the audience were all too happy to comply with, particularly those with less enlightened views towards her hermaphroditism (thanks, Montreal), but her songs do possess a certain charm. She's a gifted harpist, and her arrangements (a young violinist and cellist joined her onstage) are often ingenious, but I confess a certain indifference towards her particularly affected brand of freak-folk, even as I applaud her winning stage presence and obvious talent.

Despite My Father's generally agreed-upon strength, some greeted the new Swans tour with skepticism - after all, the former incarnation of Swans was known as one of the most intense live acts of all time, blending punishing volume with Gira's emotional intensity for a singular experience. They needn't have worried. My Father's opener, "No Words/No Thoughts," is already a hulking ten-minute behemoth on record, but it grew into something even more cataclysmic onstage. Before the band even appeared, the mics were turned on and allowed to generate subtly shifting feedback for minutes, until finally multi-instrumentalist Thor Harris (also of Angels of Light and Shearwater) took to the bells to knock out a complex, cyclic melody by his lonesome for at least another five minutes, creating a deep sense of hypnosis. Finally, the other five member joined him, launching into the song's huge stop-start groove. Gira was in fine form, bellowing out with his usual foreboding tone like a man possessed and undaunted by the sheer wall of noise mounting behind him. The song's third section, a bass-driven, mosh-worthy breakdown, signaled a complete assault, with Gira's guitar combining with Christoph Hans' steel strings to demolish the eardums of anyone who dared come too close. (Fearing exactly this outcome, I opted for the balcony before their set even began.)

After that gargantuan, 20-25 minute endeavor, they could very well have left the stage and satisfied just about everyone, but their work wasn't done. They continued to hammer out a good chunk of My Father, as well as throwing in a surprising set of oldies, altogether ditching their late-'80s-early-'90s material - essentially, nothing from the Jarboe era. As that's the period with which I am most familiar, that might have been a disappointment, but Gira and co. were so on-point it hardly mattered. From new tunes like "Eden Prison," "Jim" and especially the self-loathing anthem "My Birth," to oldies like Cop's "Your Property" to Children of God's "Sex, God, Sex," they proved Gira's claim that this was a restatement of purpose rather than just a reunion. Swans are not dead; long live Swans.

Let me set the scene: it is Saturday, the fourth night of POP Montreal. The past three nights have been populated with at least one highly-entertaining show each. I roll out of bed at the civilized hour of 2:30 in the afternoon. Atari Teenage Riot is playing Foufounes Electrique at 10 p.m., one of the more hyped shows of the festival. With a passing knowledge of their music and reputation, I expect to be subjected to an intense experience.

Now, I understand that 'intense' can be an entirely subjective term. The show, however, most certainly delvered on my preconceptions by anyone's standards; if not on all levels, at least on several. The band played for almost ninety minutes straight, delivering their trademark buzz-saw guitar samples and drum and bass beats. Members Alec Empire, Nic Endo, and CX KiDTRONIk took turns assailing the audience with distorted howls, screams, and rapping. It was loud as hell, as Endo prompted the sound tech to 'TURN UP THE FUCKING MUSIC' not even all the way through the first number. The lights were set up to include the audience in the performance, never putting a spot on any of the people on-stage. It was basically all strobe lights coming from all angles with little reprieve, matching the relentlessness of the music.

The were only two breaks in the set: first when Alec Empire stopped to inform the crowd that the German government has censored one of their records (not that we could understand him, as his mic was still running through a distortion processor), and before the encore. Needless to say, it was a lot of Atari Teenage Riot to take in one sitting, but the crowd appreciated the effort.

Some other notes: fellow CJLOers Mobs Goodness of Hooked On Sonics, Brian Hastie of Countdown to Armageddon, and Andrew W from Grade A Explosives were all in attendance as well. They noticed, among other things, the band really needed to remind themselves and the audience that their name is 'Atari Teenage Riot' and the year is 2010, that sweaty, shirtless guys aren't too careful where they rub their sweaty torsos, that for some reason almost everyone in the audience had to tie their shoes at some point, and that when white people with dreads gather it tends to get exponentially sillier (in an endearing and totally non-condescending way, of course). Also, Alec Empire should really make an effort to keep that shirt on (especially if he's going crowd surfing).

Atari Teenage Riot did not disappoint. I went for the spectacle and I got one. If a band's live performance helps appreciation of their records, it can most certainly be considered a success. So go get your hands a copy of Delete Yourself and a ticket for next time the Riot comes through town. You'll see me there with my shirt off rubbing on people while tying my shoes. START THE RIOT 2010!!!1!!one.