The Music Warrior

Forcing Music down the throats of the unreceptive since 2006

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Live Review- Of Montreal

What? What were you doing on Friday night? Drinking (my roommate)? Seeing The New Pornographers with Belle and Sebastian (all those kids that bought their tickets the fucking day they came out)?

How about The Metro? That's right, it was Of Montreal time, with all their fucked up, Kinks loving, Glam Rock epitomizing selves.

I entered, missing the first act, to a crowded, buzzing crowd. As the lightweight music fan that only had "The Gay Parade" and "The Bird That Continues To Eat The Rabbitt's Flower" as my Of Montreal repetoire, I was a bit intimidated by the jostling crowd (not really, but for drama's sake, we'll say I was).

But first, was Cloud Cult. Now, I kept my mouth shut about it, because everyone around me seemed to hate them, but I was diggin it. There was a cello, and, sure, every song started soft, and then built at a predictable point, but still.... The songs were usually really short, but they had some cool layered sonic scopes, and I'm a sucker for a good three person melody. And, again... cello?

Plus... okay, see this? Imagine that, only with there being two canvases, and with the paintings being really fucking crazy and abstract. And then, have the a standing up guitar, a pimped out bass, and a cello all there. Yeah, pretty fucking nuts, right? The panters just went nuts on their canvases (one drew an abstract cityscape, one did a weird angel giving a kid a rocket pack to heaven). Call me a sucker for a gimmick, but I was sold. Though, again, it seemed like I was in the minority...

Photo by Joe Cunningham

But, then, the band. Enter Kevin Barnes in a wedding dress, covered in glitter, saying "We're going to make love to you, Chicago. But we're old fashioned, so we're going to get married first. Will you marry us, Chicago?" before taking off the dress to put on a vest (this turned eventually to a gold frock and then to a orange plastic shirt).

Synchranized guitar moves, pantomimed bullets, a fucking story time section (apparently, Mr. Barnes was raised by progressive parents who let him do whatever he wanted, and he liked to harass old women, so he goes up to them, shakes them, and yells "your vaginas are useless! they do not produce fluid!")

Barnes, as he takes a swig of the bottle of champaign he entered with, stated, "mixing LSD and Champaign is a bad idea". The show was so fucked up I had no idea what was going on (in the best way possible). Plus, its a rare occasion where you hear shrieks of glee whenever a song is started, and you see the entire Metro swaing and jumping to the beats.

Yeah, I'm willing to allow it.


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