by JACK OATMON

Alas, the Grand Prix’s over now. The thing I’m probably going to miss the most is the drunken yahoos blaring up the street in souped-up Acuras, imagining themselves to be superstar racecar drivers and almost running me over while I ride my bicycle. Oh well, they’ll be back next year for more sluts and cars and poker. Only ’cept the cars will be those new ethanol-fueled Euro-jobs with 96 per cent recyclable frames, right? Right?

If you’re still hankering for debauchery after all that, you can get some on a slightly more tasteful platter this Friday, June 30, at Café Cleopatra (1230 St-Laurent). The event is billed as “new wave burlesque,” and features ironic comedy sketches running from local themes like “Tit Hortons” to exotic Chernobyl-disaster revival cabaret. What could be sexier?

“Toronto bites.” It’s popular opinion, and now an indie rock event. While I don’t have any particular beef about the T-dot, like the organizers of this event, I do enjoy playfully scorching our more reserved sister city from time to time, if just to stay fashionably negative. This is where I’d put in a smiley-emoticon with a winky-eye if this was an email and I was tacky enough to do that kind of shit. Anyway, to get to the point, this weekend is your chance to show the Green Room/Main Hall compound just how wacky-patterned and expensive our Chucks are and just how thickly-rimmed our Buddy Holly glasses can be in Montreal. It’s to the tune of some really great bands from Toronto who have clearly spent a hell-pile of time listening to the Pixies, Modest Mouse, and the Violent Femmes. At $5 to $7 bucks a show, you can’t really go wrong with these tortured, messy-haired icons-of-the-times. My money’s on the Friday night show. The Born Ruffians seem to have a good amount of greasy mixed in with their groovy. Henri Faberge and the Adorables follow up with what I can only describe as feelgood pop anthems for the debauched.

Jazz Fest, word. If you haven’t yet heard Buck 65, do yourself a favour and do some downloadin’ this week, because he’ll be at Club Soda on Sunday, July 2, with Killa-Jewel. Richard “Buck 65” Terfry takes his influences from a lot of directions, but the parts that shine through most clearly are the lyrical styles (which more than rival anything I’ve heard from other funky white boys such as the Rhymesayers Collective) and the thoughtful production, which touches on folk, ambient electronica, hip hop and gritty rock. I always get this renaissance-poet-thrown-in-a- George-Orwell-novel vibe when I hear him. East Coast represent!

Tonight, Thursday, June 29, I’ll be getting my bang-bang-bang in down at le Parking. The Hacker’s in town for Overdose—always a good time. Failing that, the Dears will be rocking Metropolis, just down the street.

Although it costs 40 smackers, I’m morbidly considering bitin’ the bullet for Maceo Parker at Metropolis on Friday, but I’ll probably just go see Afrodizz for free at the corner of Ste-Catherine and Jeanne-Mance.

YEAH, THAT’S RIGHT. jack.oatmon@gmail.com

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