The Stoned Poet

Sunday, Funday it was on November the 16th! I went down to l'Escogriffe to see Cordial a French multi genre band that have swept everybody's feet at every venue they played. Tonight, the opening band was Oddcharm , this followed Cordial and finally, Lezart played. I came, smoke, breezed and freezes my ass off. No intake of insane amounts of alcohol would be seen from my part tonight, but as the cold bit through my limbs, I was forced to admit I desperately wanted to warm my bones. So in we got, Fanny the picture taker was there, Cordial had arrived, Oddcharm were there patiently waiting and Lezart were roaming, unseen and seeking warmth, praying on us, waiting for the right time to strike. At the door, I great the sax player of Lezart and we exchange a joke about having a line of coke in exchange of paying the ticket for the show, which I think is very inviting for the spectators yet I do reckon that now a days, everyone is broke and drugs aren't cool anymore. I go sit do...

   Friday the 7th October, I drove down the highway, tired and not down at all to go to a show. I was tired and to be fair enough the lineup was not promising, it remained estranged. I love punk, I love some hardcore band, but was lies in emo-mid-schoolfailing-somethingcore, just ain't my type. It ain't bad, but it doesn't get my balls tingling. I tend to scratch my head more in signs of incomprehension of what is going on. In simple terms, I was down to see Polyethelene and Snatchers, but the two other bands, I just didn't have the energy. But I went, and what I saw was, well, how to say, it was special, some good surprises, some less exciting surprises. Just like an LSD trip, you hope for the best, but at times, things get messy, you have to stir left and right, up and down, hoping to find balance and be centered again for the rest of the trip. Upon arrival at the Batiment 7, The Snatchers greet me, Fanny  ,who is seen taking pictures at shows, is there; but for the r...

Wednesday the 5th of November. It's cold, one of the first nights where I felt the cold biting my bones and frail limbs. Antoine, my good old drunken friend and I form a duo à la Jack Kerouac and Neal Cassidy, we love to have a good time filled to the brim with the finest of poisons, alcool. Tonight, we wanted to go out and simply have a reasonable amount of beers. No scuffing nor pushing nor shouting or rambling. We would be good boys, civilized. As we walked around Saint-Laurent, hoping we could go see Jazz at Barbossa, we are greated with a closed venue. God Fucking Damnit screams Antoine, I retort, Oh let's keep calm, we haven't even drinked yet, no need to get all riled up. Let's go grab a bite at Slice and Soda and then we can head towards l'Escogriffe and le Quai des Brumes to see what's up. Inside the pizza shop, the man tell's us he's closing so he deals us a deal and we are outted with two jumbo slices for 7$! Antoine tells me, "Wow it rea...

It's Friday 25th October, I'm posting fliers on old rotten drabbed poles who await in silence and agony. No sun caresses their envies nor woman or man to soothe their naughty desires or nitty gritty ways. I look at my phone, it's six thirty, the perfect time to get a beer, a nick and let all hell loose. I take one last pictures of the flyers, I run to my car and light up a cigarette while listening to Bob Dylan's He Was A Friend of Mine. Outside, the leaves hang low and many have fallen, a keen reminder that change comes at a great price. The cold weather mixed with Dylan's vocals on the Bootleg Series 1 to 3 send a shiver down my spine as I survey the streets of Montreal going around Mount Royal in hopes to find a parking near Saint-Laurent boulevard. A right turn, left, stop, go, turn and finally bingo, a spot lays empty. I park and head down two blocks, turn left, get a beer, get out, meet Francois a homeless guy, buy him a cookie and off I go to the show at La ...

October the 4th, I hop in my car with Antoine. Beer, a will to escape the ever dooming future of my generation and a hope of finding a groove that'll set me free from all morality and elusive mind bending thoughts or anxieties.  On a warm hot gloomy yet breezy saturdy night, I had my car parked downtown over the hills and as I locked at my car, the question was, will it stay put, will it roll down? Oh whatever it'll be fine I guess. Antoine and I take our stuff and I leave a note saying I just moved in and thus do not have a vignette for my parking yet, hoping it'll disuade any officers or parking agent of leaving a ticket on my windshield. We go down and turn on mcgill and walk and turn again and walk while talking, drinking a beer and suddenly, Antoine asks the question,  ''So were is the show?'' I reply, '' It's in a YMCA, in a gym more specifically.'' ''Damn thats crazy, just like when we saw shows younger at school in the gym...

  October 2nd, I wanted to go see le P'tit Belliveau at Quai des Brumes . Of course, it was sold out. So I was about to dip. But, But But, my friend Charlotte insisted we stay to watch live music. So what stands besides Quai des Brumes other than the mytical Escogriffe !   Going inside, we are greeted with a 20$ or PWYC, so we get our money out and reluctantly or rather unsurely we give it to the door gal and in we are. On stage, a girl with long curly black hair is swaying left to right with her grey guild motherfucking cool looking guitar. She sings out words, plays her guitar and enchants anyone who locks regards with her while the bassist dressed with an oversized green slick shirt is, well let's put it this way, making love to his bass as he chants out the groove. The drummer in the back is controlled, tamed yet gashed with a wildness that is subtle yet thrilling. The guitarist seemed straight out of sitcom was a melody virtuoso. He definitely knew a thing or two abo...