Another band, another planet

>> Robin Black and the Intergalactic Rock Stars talk the walk

by LORRAINE CARPENTER

"Do I sound really arrogant? I'm just so passionate about what we do and until I see somebody that does it as well, I will refuse to believe anything other than we're the best in the world."

These are the words of Robin Black, frontman for the Toronto-based glam extravaganza the Intergalactic Rock Stars, whose near-legendary status has sprung from a lot of talk, a lot of make-up and a bit of music. True, their debut EP features two rawkin' glam anthems, clearly the work of a tight act who've been at it for years, albeit in other bands. But Black truly has the gift of the gab, so with a Caesar in hand (or so he said), the Winnipeg-born glam racketeer talked at me for 45 minutes about Robin Black and, well, Robin Black.



Mirror: So how was Windsor last night?

Robin Black: It was totally awesome, people went nuts, but the weirdest thing happened on the way back: I seem to have drank 30 ounces of Jaegermeister and I wet myself in the van! It was horrible! I don't know if I'm partying too much now, but when you're losing control of your bodily functions, something bad's going on.

M: At least it didn't happen on stage, right?

RB: I think I would have just shrugged and acted like, "Hey, this happens all the time--if you don't pee yourself, you're not as cool as me."

M: You once said that your band is "Canada's only true glam rock band." Do you see a trend starting now?

RB: I'll tell you with 100 per cent confidence and arrogance that I take a huge amount of credit for making a lot of these bands able to do what they do. We played Music West in Vancouver with about five bands who are really watered down, wannabe Robin Blacks. In a way that offends me because a lot of these people wore plaid when it was cool to wear plaid, played math rock when it was cool to play math rock, and now they're pretending to be Robin Black when it's cool to be Robin Black.

M: Traditionally, the Canadian indie scene is down-to-earth...

RB: The Canadian indie scene is pathetic, that's more the word I'd use. If you're a young guy starting a band in Canada, you must be ashamed of the fact that you want to be successful, you must look like crap and you must not put on a big show. When I was a kid and I jumped up and down on my bed playing air guitar with my tennis racket, I imagined being David Lee Roth or Steven Tyler. I can't imagine growing up thinking "Wow, I wannabe be a boring guy playing crappy music."

M: Describe your live show for me.

RB: From the time someone walks into the club where we're at, they'll have the feeling that there's something special going on. It's an extremely fierce, sometimes pretty and sometimes violent show. We have a six-foot-tall black woman tattooed from head to toe with pink dreadlocks serving us drinks on stage, we use pyrotechnics, and the guys up there performing songs are five of the sexiest, baddest motherfuckers you've ever seen. We're like a bunch of rock 'n' roll vigilantes dishing out our own justice.

With the Weekend at Bleu Est Noir, Sunday, Aug. 20, 9pm, $5