Gene Ral: Middle East Correspondent

Gene Ral recently ventured to Halifax's most infamous subterranean venue to sample the finest garage-rock Israel has to offer. Monotonix, a 3-piece wrecking ball from Tel Aviv, came to the maritimes to offer up a live show unlike any Gene has ever experienced. Past shows by these Israelites have included flaming drum kits, singer Ami Shalev diving into the crowd from the balcony, crowd surfing on a kick drum, and a fan lighting himself on fire… With the knowledge that Monotonix shows are prone to being shut down almost immediately by police on account of unruly band behaviour, Gene suspected he might actually be safer in the Gaza Strip. Perhaps it was fear for his safety that drove Gene to down an excess of 'Horse Power', the bar's special brew of 'beer' that delivers an effect akin to a horse kick to the head, before the band took the stage.

As Gene's horse power reached a maximum, Monotonix's maniacal members emerged from backstage wearing only the shortest of shorts and the longest of facial/chest/back/head hair. They proceeded to set up their amps on the frontmost edge of the stage, and the drum-set in the middle of the dancefloor/mosh-pit/sauna, all while engaging in a stretching routine that would have brought proud tears to the eyes of Hal Johnson and Joanne McLeod. As soon as the music started, one didn't need to question why the stretching was necessary. Front man, Ami Shalev, shot like a Hezbollah rocket into the crowd which sent us into a frenzy. People were falling over, bodies were thrown into the drum kit, knocking over cymbals, we were upside down, inside out, easy over, and sunny side up. Gene could even be seen playing the crash cymbal with his fist.

Shalev showed off his colours as a true band leader, leading his band by picking up and moving pieces of the drum kit all over the venue… At one point, the guitarist was standing on a table in the middle of the bar playing the kick drum, while the drummer played the remaining pieces of his kit in the mosh pit, all while Shalev swung from the rafters screaming like a lunatic. Next, the show invaded the men's washroom then exploded back into the bar amidst a blizzard of soiled paper towels. The ensuing riot was breathtaking, literally, just trying to keep up with the band could have put a strain on Lance Armstrong's lungs. The band did their best to use every inch of the venue, and Gene kept pace. They only stopped playing long enough for Shalev to yell instructions to the raucous crowd. He could have been speaking English, Arabic, or Hebrew, it didn't matter, we were all deaf by then anyway.

When all was said and done Gene emerged whiplashed, deaf in both ears, with bruised knuckles, soaked in a mixture of Horse Power and sweat... and a Zionist.

Monotonix - Body Language

Serge goes to a Christmas party

Anytime the night ends with Phantom II blaring at 4am, you know its been a good night. Maybe not for the roommates, but definitely for NLG. As it was on Saturday, which was the night of Serge’s annual work Christmas party. Held at a fancy Cole Harbour establishment, this black tie event showcases The Man’s talent in their finest evening attire. Following suit, Serge arrived wearing his Strellson Rick James with a flask of Aberlour in his breast pocket and the younger, taller version of Don Draper in tow. While Donny entertained the female guests, Serge parlayed the waiter Jose into bringing over a case of wine and filling up their glasses as if they had a hole in the bottom. Serge then displayed some dance maneuvers that would have made John Travolta look knock-kneed and any observers get vertigo; they included the flying knee slide and fist-pumping from the top of a table. However, the best was yet to come: it came when Serge pulled the ol’ champagne trick with a beer bottle—the one where you hold your thumb over the opening and spray while you shake as if you just won the Monte Carlo Grand Prix. For some reason, it wasn’t too well received by Serge’s fellow coworkers, and a slightly disappointed Serge was told to “calm down”. However, he didn’t remain downtrodden for long. A couple of gin-waters later and he was fired up again, unfortunately, however, just as the function was winding down. Luckily, there is always Phantom II and there is always an afterparty where Phantom II is playing. So Serge went home, cranked up the speakers and threw a couple chairs against the wall, all in the name of having a good time.

Justice - Phantom Part II

NLG gets Grinderman'd

What happens when you mix a general practitioner on a tax-deductible work trip, one half of the No Look Guns, a bottle of fireball, and Nick Cave and his band of virtuoso Ozark musicians? A black eye, a couple of headaches and a pile of receipts for the taxman, that’s what.

The aforementioned med (Dr. Roberts), a No Look Gunner from the wild interior hub of Okanagan Falls, was in town for a professional development course and was convinced the entire night would be a tax write off. He lured Serge to the dark world of Nick Cave’s alter-ego band, Grinderman, and into the sold out Commodore show with promises of tax deductible drinks and a bottle of whiskey in his boot.

Like moths attracted to a bug zapper on a sticky night in the Deep South, the crowd at the Ballroom—a meaty soup of freaks—were drawn to Nick Cave. Polygamists, satyrs, a Cyclops and a host of other miscreants crawled towards Cave’s omnipotent presence as if it were the ethereal equivalent of the fly-lamp, while the theologically laced lyrics and wickedly talented band of Ozark looking musicians provided the southern feel. Cave truly did seem god-like; he almost literally squeezed the huge venue of 1500 people into a tiny square in front of him. With liquid courage fueled by Dr. Roberts’ expense account, NLG made their way to the front— getting so close to the Grinderman that at one point Dr Roberts claimed that he was not holding onto the front railing, but Nick Cave’s balls. With proximity came a price, though. When Cave began breathing the heavy lyrics to “Heathen Child”, the crowd of idolaters took this as some sort of cultish summoning. This set off a physical and psychological battering of NLG that included front wedgies, ear pokes, a clothesline to Dr. Roberts’ neck and a sucker punch to the left eye of Serge. However, rather than back down, NLG heard their own war cry—Cave’s spewing rant about a prudent fan, “No Pussy Blues”. Whipped into an adrenaline-induced blackout, Serge and Dr. Roberts didn’t see each other again until they found one another outside after the show. Serge was peddling the setlist for Marlboro Lights and the Doc was holding a teatowel with Nice Cave’s face on it. Deciding to make the accountant back in OK Falls even more jealous when he sees the receipts from the evening, the two headed to the local gentleman’s club to add to the pile. Now let’s just hope the CRA doesn’t audit Dr. Roberts and ruin all the fun.

Grinderman - No Pussy Blues

Grinderman's website