Lies, lingerie
and electroclash

By JACK OATMON

Pop. We’ve got less than a week to get all our shit together. It’s not long, but we’ll just have to manage. You know what they say—Rome only took a day to build, so this is definitely doable.

The first thing to worry about is eliminating or postponing all prior engagements with a series of excuses, half-truths and illnesses of convenience. The kicker here is that we can’t actually quit our jobs because we won’t have any money after this is all over. So wield carefully your deceit. Say ambiguous things an employer can’t really argue with, like “I’m feeling a lot of personal psychological pressure right now” or “I need time to reorganize my priorities.” But no dying relatives. Too obvious.

Once you’ve switched or cancelled all your shifts and squirreled away enough dosh for a week of mayhem, you’ve got to worry about wardrobe. Attire all comes down to the age-old wisdom that it’s not what’s on the surface that matters, but what’s underneath. And I interpret that in two ways. Number one is that your shoes, being underneath the rest of your duds, are the first place, after the crotch, that a potential mate will look. Secondly, your knickers are underneath your clothes in another direction—inwards. And that’s even more important and closer to your chakras. So I want everybody out there next week, no matter how scuzzy and rocked-out and wasted and hip, to have beautiful, clean, brightly coloured, possibly animal-print underwear and flashy sneakers, as to attract a sufficiently pedigreed partner. Think of the aging population, people! Procreate!

PACK A LUNCH: Alexi Delano

Finally, with “how” taken care of, we must worry about “what,” in the sense of what shows, events, bands and parties to crash once we are scot-free and clad in Technicolor unmentionables. This is a question I will leave you to ponder for the next few days while you peruse the program, as my definitive list of the Absolute Best Things to do will not be revealed until next week. However, I will lead you into Wednesday, Oct. 1, the opening day of Pop Montreal, with some advice. If you can’t get into Hot Chip for some reason, fear not because Woodhands, the Clips and the Rural Alberta Advantage at the Portuguese Association will be an eclectic and energetic evening of sousing while Duchess Says and Goa will be phaser-blasting your ears from Studio 14 of the CBC.

Between now and then, don’t forget about the final two editions of Montreal’s best weekly party, Piknic Électronik, at Jean Drapeau. Alexi Delano headlines Saturday and Claude Von Stroke gets his techno on Sunday for the grand finale. For the nostalgic and corny lovers of a little fad once called electroclash, drop by the SAT on Saturday for a night that will likely be something of a reunion of Neon’s past core audience, with the Hacker and Miss Kittin playing alongside locals Jordan Dare and Mike Mind. That will in fact be a perfect chance for you to test-drive your new undies, possibly on your head, as you remember a time when cool was measured not by the amount of gold chains one wore, but by the amount of gold sequins one wore. Ah, days gone by!

STRAIGHT OUTTA 2001! jack.oatmon@gmail.com