Sunday, August 30th/09, Bar St.Laurent 2, Montreal QUE

My French is terrible, atrocious, even. I am so glad that the people in this magical city are mostly bi-lingual, as I am certainly not. Well, maybe if it came to me ordering off a Russian menu or giving Russian directions or hell, even resolving a hostage situation, in Russian. It makes the language barrier a little thinner for us ignorant west-coast boys, but provides constant entertainment to the local population, I’m sure, our feeble attempts to play along, to understand. But hey, at least we try! We get the basics, for the most part, like how to ask “where’s the bathroom?” or “How are you?” or how to say “Please and thank you” or like “Yes.” That’s about it. Pitiful, I know. I have actually contemplated, like seriously, learning basic French, something I’ve always wanted to do, when I return and one day moving out this way, where the beer is plentiful, easily accessible and cheap, smoking is allowed on patios, the food industry is delicious and creative and full of jobs, the people are wonderful and friendly, and the rent is something to salivate over, especially when seeing how beautiful the houses are combined with their location. It’s got all I want and more.

We arrived to the city around 5:00pm, to the club, and a show we just barely managed to squeeze our way onto. We weren’t playing until 1:00am, lots of time to kill, lots of mishief to make and fun to be had. We met up with our good friend, and Dan and I’s former roomate, Lucas Earthy, one hard-ass awesome fucking dude. He had been travelling this way from Victoria at nearly the same time as us, moving all the way out here to start fresh after the incarceration (kidding?) We searched around for some good food, settled on some mediocre greek, let down. At least it was healthier than poutine, which I was really, how do you say, “hankering” for, thought I should  pass. We looked in windows of some bistros and brasseries, salivated and hoped, but could not afford, sadness all around. We walked back to the club in disappointment, we would have to return one day, with sufficient funds and large appetites. We made our way back to the venue, picking up some beverages from the dep in the process. We made new friends, a band called Sober Dawn, 3 guys playing old school bad-ass punk that sounded alot like Hot Water Music. Dan ended up hanging out with them all night on the street, some 40’s of Labatt 50 were consumed, some pants were dropped in line with some begging for change, some French was taught and screamed out into the night.

I loved the show. Lots of bands, some radio pop (Trainlight), some synth-pop (Isle of Thieves), some punk (Sober Dawn), some experimental (????) It was all very good. Since we did a hop on, we got thrown on last and played at 1:00am to a not so big of crowd, but to some friends we made earlier in the evening, and even some friends from back home, Sandy, Patrick and Kelsey. It was a good set, sweaty and fun, contemplated just doing a 15 minute funk or jazz exploration, which would have been infinitely more enjoyable and different. Following the long, and I mean long as in forever, show at Bar St. Laurent 2, we headed to Sandy`s townhouse, where she catered to us gin and vodka drinks, potato chips, a guitar in which singalongs were performed, it was alot like camping except in a really amazing loft. I heard, and most likely, even spoke many Frnech phrases and tenses this evening, but unfortunately retained none of it in my drunken endeavors. By the time 7:00 am rolled around, we were mostly ready to call it an evening, or morning, whichever, and sleep in. A long drive lay ahead of us, but we were now content and ready, fueled for it and all that northern Quebec has to offer.