With a big sly smile and hearty wave Vannucci Jr. took the stage with his fellow "Killers" immediately launching into the band's breakout hit "Mr. Brightside" with house lights on. This, no doubt, was a statement, mostly likely crafted by Vannucci Jr. himself, that The Killers needn't employ theatricality to entertain the cordial audience filling the ACC.
DECADES / DECADES / MAY 16
When I was a teen my oldest brother bought me The Cure's Staring at the Sea singles collection, I really responded to its upbeat tempo, playful instrumentation and fun lyrics about love cats, caterpillars and Camus, who was the first real manifestation of my adult pretension. I listened to that sucker all the time, happy as a clam bobbing my head on the school bus, grinning and feeling great.
And then a few years later I gave Pornography a go. My world collapsed. Why would anyone listen to something that made you feel SO SAD. What I'm trying to say is that I have no critical capacity to judge Decades beyond the fact they sound like The Cure and I like this tune. I'm weary, however, about listening to their full lenth album for fear of the same crushing blow. And I certainly won't be at the record release at the Garrison this Thursday. As a boy, I don't like to cry in public...
LIGHTS / SIBERIA ACOUSTIC / APRIL 30TH
Once someone tried to pass off my love of Light's "The Listening" as a guilty pleasure. In response, I punched them in the nose and started to run in a circle whooping my favourite mantra "No False Gods!" What I meant by that was if you have to justify liking something beyond the work itself, then you have weak character. By claiming that I felt "guilty" about something I took "pleasure," this individual implied that I needed the support of the external world (a false god) to enjoy something internally (within my heart). The phrase guily pleasure spits in the eye of my sense of personal freedom.
HOODED FANG / GRAVES / APRIL 9TH
The name Hooded Fang always conjures an image in my head of a wolf wearing a hoodie. This makes me laugh and, just for a fleeting second, wish that my spirit animal was a wolf wearing a hoodie. Then I quickly shake my head and recant this wish for my spirit animal is strong, wise and frumpily "with it." Of course, my spirit animal is a shirtless Mordecai Richler, whom I suspect is a spirit I share with these Hooded Fang cats.