Casa’s back

by JOHNSON CUMMINS

My favourite bar in the city, Casa del Popolo, is finally back with a new lease on life. After they’d flown under the radar for nine years with a flimsy license, “the Man” finally clamped down on the tiny bar with a heart of gold a year ago, making them adhere to their restaurant license. In an effort to uphold these strict, archaic laws, “the Man” even positioned undercover surveillance wearing “I brake for godspeed!” bumper stickers affixed over their Ed Hardy t-shirt logos to make sure food was served with every pint. When Tic-Tacs were deemed not proper sustenance as stipulated in their license agreement, the club was forced to serve up more expensive dishes and hence majorly cut down on the lush section of their clientele—which, if you are a bar, is pretty much a knife to the throat. Not only that, but probably the most devastating blow is the bar’s previous license also stipulated that they were unable to host live performances.

Okay, I’ll shitcan the rest of the year-long red tape stuff, but I am happy to announce that Casa has finally earned its full bar license which includes the elusive “salle aux spectacles” permit that will allow them to once again host shows on a nightly basis.

I’m sitting on the Casa back patio with co-owner Mauro “not-so-Teflon Don” Pezzente, and his license to rock couldn’t have come at a better time. It seems Pezzente, in a moment of sheer desperation, was making plans to transform the bar into a Chuck E. Cheese/Chilis/Chez Serge-style deal, complete with jalapeno poppers, mechanical bull, Coyote Ugly-style bar staff, flair bartending competitions and the obligatory big-screen TV mounted over the stage, pumping out The Best Hockey Fights and NASCAR highlights, before word came through he was granted his full bar license. Much like a latter-day Lenny Bruce, his bureaucratic shuffle with the city has left him bloodied but unbowed. The one-time Donald Trump of indie rock, who would routinely light his hand-rolled coronas with “brownies,” has been reduced to lighting his Quebec filters with Canadian Tire money, with his trademark feathered fedora being replaced by a discarded publi-sac. A truly devastating sight to behold, but the gleam in Pezzente’s eye proves that the man may have hit the mat but is comin’ back swingin’.

Although the food-free swillin’ is already well underway, Casa really kicks things off this week with a whole heap of heavy shows including, tonight, Pezzente’s own band Fratelli D’Italia with Black Feelings (this one’s at Sala Rossa, actually), Lullabye Arkestra with Metz on Friday, Panopticon Eyelids with Grand Trine, Magic Cheezies, Leopard et Moi on Saturday and on Sunday, the sweet, sultry sounds of the Murray Street Band.

Now, Casa offering up its stage to bands again is indeed fuggin’ amazing news, but the one show that should have you waking the neighbours and kissing babies this week is the almighty Motörhead, with Reverend Horton Heat and Nashville Pussy in tow tonight at Metropolis. If you have any inkling at all of what real rock ’n’ roll is, don’t miss Lemmy proving why he is indeed still the man.

LOVE ME LIKE A REPTILE… JONATHAN.CUMMINS@GMAIL.COM