Cold waves and
Claass warfare

by JACK OATMON

Old man winter’s upon us, and he’s been whisking all the party people back into the ramshackle loft jams and makeshift underground nightclubs from whence they came, the crotchety old bastard. It’s always a laugh to see just how much blustery punishment folks will endure to get to a thumping hoedown, as was the case last week when a few fine folks threw what might have been the best shindig since the bridge burners, or at least since Pop Montreal. I refer of course to my rather hazily recollected experience on Beaubien early last Saturday morning. It warms the cockles of the heart to hear a couple hundred people carrying the lyrics to the Supremes’ “You Can’t Hurry Love” during a sound system blip at 3:30 a.m. Big thanks to Slutsky, Jay Watts III, Alexander, Mofomatronix, WhyAlexWhy? and whoever else made that crazy-ass jam possible. I have to say, though, that all the chariots turned back into pumpkins and the horses reverted to mice when

Teki Latex and his 150 closest friends came in bearing the worst hi-NRG wannabe Euro-dance crapola imaginable around 4:30 a.m. or so. Fine folks, I’m sure, but the transition was a tad… abrupt.

That and a few other neato little holiday brouhahas got me thinking about all the judo-chopping parties coming up in the next month, as well as that fast-approaching sociological catastrophe we call New Years Eve. Start perusing your options for that soon. But for the moment, here are a few soirées that could easily lend themselves to such wholesome afterparties and early mornings full of blunder-brained, axiomatic solutions to all the world’s problems that seem like pieces of cake on the other side of toxically compromised motor skills. Fuck, I love those mornings.

Diehard electro fanatics have a real treat headed their way tonight, Thursday, Dec. 6, as Berliners Tiefschwarz visit Parking, packing 10 years of the grimmest glam and most self-flagellating disco around, not to mention an ultra-tweaked mastery of minimal house production. If you seek less technocratic alienation and more multicultural multitasking, pop by ExCentris and freak out with SoCalled. Either way, expect to ponder and brood on some heavy-duty topics while you jack to only the grooviest beats.

On Saturday night, you can witness Malajube in all their raucous refinement at Metropolis, or you can surf more of the French house wave at Academy. Parisian upstarts datA and Detect will be there in full ass-rumbling, gin-swilling, glitchy, cacophonous form, adding a fresh flavour to the usual cocktail of distortion disco and pill-popping prog that the kids love just so darn much.

If you still have a few pence to spare by Sunday night, feel free to roll around and trade ’em up at Studio Juste Pour Rire for an evening with Californian emo-disco poseurs Shiny Toy Guns and local skull-shaking badasses Claass. I’d almost want to go just to see the look on the kids’ faces when Claass hit the stage and start rolling people over with noisy distortion and vocoders.

Speaking of looks on faces, this screen is threatening to shrivel my eyes into raisins and my tiny brain into a turnip, what with all the university finals I just dusted off. So I bid you good evening and as always, keep your nose out of the dirt!

Pretext or personality disorder?
jack.oatmon@gmail.com