Sometimes, it sucks not being a real dude who writes real stuff about things. Like, you know, not being able to elaborate on a topic, it can get frustrating. For example, here’s how the Houston Press Blog describes The Entrance Band‘s album, titled “The Entrance Band”:
“The disc explores hoary agit-prop poses, echo-chambered vocal kaleidoscopes and dark,
winding blues riffs. Guitarist/singer Guy Blakeslee, drummer Derek James, and
Lenchantin want to have their cake, eat it and smear it in your face.”
I would sell my children to be able to write something like this! I mean… “agit-prop poses”?!?! I have no fucking clue what those are, yet, they sound awesome, and writing complicated shit like that would make me, a non-native speaker of the english language, eligible for hot, hot native english speaker of english female english language sexing. But no, instead, I draw matchstick penises and I say “fuck” a lot.
WELL, I’ll try my best to describe my The Entrance Band adventure. And if you, a lady female native speaker of the english anglo speaking female language of the gender language sex english, do not want to bone me BAD after reading this, well, it’s cool man, I got a plan B. I GOT A PLAN B AND IT INVOLVES MIKE.
So I went to see The Kills in Montreal the other night. On the ticket, it said, “The Kills and Guests”. I didn’t know much about The Kills. My good friend Jerome was all “DAN MAN, THEY KICK ASS, THE GUY IS BRITISH, IT’S GON’ BE ICE COLD”. All frenchmen talk like that lately. What the fuck.
So anyway, we show up, not knowing anything about anyone. Last time I went to a show was like, the first Pixies reunion tour. It was very bad, and I already felt so old it was almost creepy standing there with my baldness and my beer belly. Thank God, no one notices creepy fucks like me at shows anymore. We’re just like, street cones. You can’t really avoid them, cuz they’re all orange and fat and in the way, but you CERTAINLY never ever have to talk to them, kiss them or bring them home. Ever.
So yeah. Went to the Kills concert. Jerome said they were good. I already liked the Dead Weather so it was an easy sell. We get in and it’s all like, “Oh yeah, kids who look like the Strokes, shitty opening band, WOOHOO”. Then the Entrance Band starts playing and I shut the fuck up with my witty, cynical banter. I am floored. I am in love. That 21 year old bassist is intriguing and loud as fuck!!! The singer is honest and his guitar moves me. “Those new kids ARE NAILING THE FUCK OUT OF IT!!!” I tell myself.
Later that night I google the show. I find out about The Entrance Band (Quick look to the left, she’s not 21 but who gives a fuck). About Paz (I LOVED Zwan’s only album). I also find out about Thurston Moore’s involvement. (Sonic Youth is my second favorite band ever in the whole wide universe. And the only reason they are second is because of The Cure). (Also, Mazzy Star). This googling episode makes me realize how outdated and sad I now am.
Oh BTW, the Kills were alright! Alright as Hell!! But I am more of an Entrance Band person. Sorry Alison and the British dude.
A-NY-WAY! The other other band that night. Brown Cave or something. They sucked. If you’re going to sound like Suede, might as well not look like Batman. That’s all I’ve got to say about it.
In conclusion, I am drunk as fuck. The Entrance Band are perfect. The Kills are incredibly alright. The Blue Cavestonez or whatever, they just don’t cut it.
This was “What I had to say about the Entrance Band”.
(I just passed out for a good 10 minutes)