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Like a bat out of hell >> Masochistic Religion's exile from goth-ville by JOHNSON CUMMINS
My initial reactions to goths are, in order: 1) humour: "Hey, cheer up, my gloomy friend, only 29 more shopping days 'til the apocalypse!" 2) empathy: (arm around goth) "You're going to grow out of this and be really embarrassed later. Do you remember New Romantics?" 3) frustration: "Will you put on a yellow snowmobile suit and just get over it?!" Over the past 10 years, I have been through all three steps with Mitch Kroll and his merry band of gothsters Masochistic Religion. Now I'm forced to drop my journalist soul at their feet and admit defeat. Their new album, The Litanies of Satan, could very well be the feel-bad CD of the year. Based on the works of that kooky funster Charles Baudelaire, this record is their gloomiest, most pretentious work yet. On the other hand, leader Mitch Kroll remains as friendly as always and has even been known to crack a joke every now and again. What gives? "Actually, I can't stand pretentious people and that's why I'm getting out of Toronto," says Kroll. "It's full of bullshit people who are not deep on any level and are just into show and money. It's always been wanting to be like New York, but ends up being like New York without the art. The people who were calling themselves goth in Toronto are now glam, because that's what Marilyn Manson is doing now. So I just want to get out of here, which is what I'm going to be doing in the next couple weeks." Like some sort of goth travel agent, I start mentioning places he might want to be checking out, like Norway, Sweden, Pittsburgh. And I've heard that Rochester, N.Y. can get a little gloomy, especially when it gets a bit slushy. But, of course, Kroll confirms my worst fear. "Actually, I'm moving to Montreal." God help us all. At Isart, Thursday, October 22, 10pm, $5
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Toronto could well be called Goth-am city, as it has more goths per donut shop than anywhere else in the world. Walking down Queen street, you would think you've been teleported back into mediaeval times or onto the set of Night of the Living Dead, because you can't swing a dead Bela Lugosi without hitting some gloomy kid whose entire wardrobe is black. You'll see them everywhere, with their pancake makeup and toques (poor kids, it's not easy being goth and Canadian), nursing their herbal teas.