March 17, 2023 – Piranha Bar, Montreal, Quebec
Rain. It’s better than snow, sure – but come on now, we’ve had just about enough precipitation as we as a collective city can handle. Winter is done. Let’s have some sun already. No. Rain. Not a lot of it; just enough to soak you through and make your socks squelch between your toes. Inside was dry, warm – and well stocked with cool, cold beer. Loud music. Good people. And all for the bargain price of ten bucks a head. That is what it should cost to see a show. Not these outrageous gouging rates the Ticketmaster’s of the world are trying to charge.
Outside the venue, a collection of young crusty punks sat upon a discarded television box, in a vain attempt at keeping off the wet pavement and hide from the rain, asking passers-by for change to be used for “alcohol research”. I obliged. Under the condition that the money be well spent on beer and nothing but, to which an accord was struck.
See Also: Viagra Boys at Corona Theatre, Montreal
Inside, a mixed group of punks and skinheads, with a few misfits thrown in for balance, had began to amass and explore the options over at the bar. The Piranha bar was the most happening spot on this St. Patrick’s evening, with Out Of Order, Vulgar Deli, Dirty Cheetah and Shit Tax playing the new downstairs part of the venue, where Frit Alors once stood, and another show on the top floor that had Downtown Fiasco, The More Or Less Whoever and Les Kats Banquaire playing. A full house in other words.
Shit Tax
The most inclusive place you could have been on this night, was right here in this very room – yet speaking to the guys from Shit Tax before their show, and they still worried that they might not be well received on this night. At the time, the majority of the crowd were skinheads dressed in bomber jackets and knee-high boots, shorn heads and intimidating to some. Shit Tax are crust punks and thought the gap in sounds between the scenes might not translate well – yet that wasn’t the case.
This is a band that has been around for quite some time now, normally playing smaller venues like Traxxide; the hidden gem of the Fattal lofts (Those that know, know – everyone else, ask a punk) and tonight they had a new guitarist cutting his teeth with the group – Ryan (seen in the photo above).
As their set wore on, their fast, short songs began to resonate with the room and the respond showed that they have over-thought the process. Something I do way too often.
Dirty Cheetah
Of all the bands that played, Dirty Cheetah was the only one that I was not familiar with – and ultimately the one I was most impressed with as well. I imagine that has a lot to do with my naivety and not knowing what to expect. Normally, I take the time to look up whatever bands I might be seeing on any given night, yet this was a day that permit me such luxuries. Dirty rock n’ roll with a punk twist, not too unlike bands like Motorhead, Nashville Pussy and Driller Killer play – well that’s my jam. Alright. That’s one of my many jams.
There is more to the music than just nasty rock n’ roll. There’s a blues element to it too, that rhythm and melody that comes from blues rock – and I don’t know about you but for me, shit! Sign me up! With that, naturally, comes energy and if combined with the sort of stage presence and showmanship that Dirty Cheetah do possess, then you’ve got yourself a winning formula.
I might have entered the room not knowing who these cats are, but I left it knowing and with their record tucked tightly under my arm.
Vulgar Deli
Watching frontman Costa Tabarnakis go through the routine of taping his microphone to a crutch (not his crotch, although that wouldn’t surprise me either), then tape his knee up like a football player before a game, has become the new normal (why did I write that? I hate that term) these days. Tabarnakis underwent a serious knee surgery last year and is too stubborn and pig-headed to stay off stage with his band, what with this being their twenty-fifth anniversary and all. I admire that. Selfishly because I too want to see them up there.
Frankly, I’m glad because he and Vulgar Deli are always the highlight of whatever gig they play. Crass and rude, aggressive and balls-out – Vulgar Deli are always ready to spit copious amounts or perversion and bile at anyone that dares come out to see them. You’re unofficially guaranteed a few things; you’ll rock out, you’ll laugh at the shit Tabarnakis says – and he’ll probably insult you. It just wouldn’t be right without those three factors.
Even if Tabarnakis might struggle with the injury; he still gives you everything he can, and that tonight was a lot. They don’t call him the Screaming Greek without reason, and if aggressive, sweaty dirty rock n’ roll that flirts on the edge of being pornographic is your cup of tea, then this is the band for you. Anyway. You can’t resist, it’s only natural.
“I’d like to thank us for playing,” exclaimed Tabarnakis. Who then went on to jokingly complain about the service he received. “I didn’t get enough beer,” he said, before insulting the entire audience in typical fashion. “You’re fucking fruitcakes all of you”. I fucking love it.
Out Of Order
This was a night to honor Out Of Order and give birth to their new record, Under The Knife, their fifth full-length album to date – and the collective of bands that had been assembled for this evening, this soiree, had been well thought out and well played.
Dressed from head to toe in white, which glowed under the venues neon lights, vocalist Scott Maracle and the boys went about their business, playing selections from their entire discography – including The Grass Is Greener, their newest single and video clip that was released in support of this very album. Doing so in convincing fashion – sounding like a tight, well-oiled machine and perfectly mimicking the sounds they have put to tape.
Maracle spent a good portion of their set, stood shirt-less on a stage monitor, with a hand on the ceiling while bellowing out his gruff anthemic lyrics. The man has something about him; a swagger that his audience eats up. He can command a room and when here, in his element, does well to get his crowd rowdied up something fierce. That is a key element as a frontman and one that many don’t possess.
As the audience danced about below stage level, it was clear that everyone – on and off the stage, was having a great time. The rain outside still falling, but nobody but the smokers could give a fuck about any of that at this particular moment in time.
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One final thought here; I would rather spend my money and my time on a show like this than at any gig that Ticketmaster extorts hundreds of dollars for. Not because it cost but ten bucks to get in; but because the vast majority of people that wanted to be at a gig such as this one, could be. Ticketmaster caters to the affluent and nobody but. That, to me, is classism; disgusting, and jeopardizes the arts and the artists that they prey upon.
When the stadiums fall silent through greed, we undesirables will still be drinking it up, dancing it up and having a good ol’ fucking time in the grimey small venues of the city. I for one, am good with that.
