Who you funkin’ with?

by JACK OATMON

Whether it be the broken mirrors strewn across the sidewalks, the tumultuous rain of pianos and anvils plummeting from the heavens, or the invasion of inflated, touchy-feely indie pop groups that have obtusely long band names and only a few bangin’ tunes among a bunch of pining, half-baked filler tracks on their new albums, this Friday the 13th might make you want to stay inside.

I know what you’re thinking, and I’m thinking it too. While all our net-hypester Spacebook friends rave on about Do Make Say Think’s raucous splendour (available at le National for 15 bones) and we find ourselves wondering just how endearing the whiny warblings of Clap Your Hands Say Yeah could possibly be in the live setting (tap your wallets, say “WTF?!” for 25 bucks at Metropolis), we need something a bit more chunky to chew on for the unluckiest day of the year. Sure, we could sit at home and listen to Planet Rock on repeat for six hours while tackling a few Sudokus, but where’s the gumption in that?

Um, album launches, maybe? Lesbians on Ecstasy have got a jam coming out on Alien8 and the party’s at Lambi, which means we could drop by next door at the Academy afterwards for an evening of bleepy tech-house et al. Toronto indie-dance outfit the Wooden Stars also release a disc at Main Hall alongside synth-poppers Hilotrons, which leaves us in proximity of the Green Room’s Friday night mash-up/electro/indie-rock bonanza. I still feel vaguely nonplussed by my options on the thirteenth. Fuck it. House party anyone?

So here’s the plan: we save our dough for Saturday. We won’t regret it. After a chilled-out smoke-down for the Books (at Ukrainian Federation), my default introspective, easy-listening choice of late, we crash the SAT for Jordan Dare’s surefire monthly, Voyeur, where he’s joined by Tiga and Tommie Sunshine for a tit-twisting trifecta of grinding electro, moody disco and garbled, psychedelic house, respectively. There’s a reason it’s a classic.

That aside, don’t forget about the big shows early next week. I don’t know how much RJD2 I can digest on a Monday, but he’ll be at la Tulipe, squishing together every conceivable kind of instrumentation and slapping the blend on top of catchy breakbeats to make a surprisingly cohesive hip hop package, supporting Marshall McLuhan’s adage that the medium is the message. There’s that and, perhaps more interestingly, oft-remixed, never bested Brit rockers Kaiser Chiefs ride in on the wake of a wicked new album to play the soon-to-be-history Spectrum on Tuesday.

As for tonight, Thursday, April 12, might I suggest a staccato soirée provided by Martin Tétreault and his nine—count ’em, nine—drummers at la Sala Rossa? Note the intentional absence of peripheral instrumentation.

Finally, for some time now I’ve been accosting my roommates and neighbours with my official Banger of the Week, and I’ve finally decided to incorporate it into the column. This week’s pick is the track “Carmilla” from French house/techno/indie kingpin Alex Gopher’s wicked new self-titled CD. It’s got just the right blend of uplifting new wave vibe, slappy bass and majestic white-guy-disco groove.

Looking for the perfect beat… jack.oatmon@gmail.com