Real Live Action

Wolf Eyes

November 8 @ Pat’s Pub

Review By Caroline Walker

Abstract: NOISE! HARSH MOTHERFUCKING NOISE! And yet somehow not loud enough.

Raven Strain and Sick Llama both proved to be deserving openers. Sick Llama definitely won me over with his restrained yet aggressively dense sound. However, there was more than enough intervening time to get some local harsh noise talent on stage. Like any other McBean-fearing Vancouverite I recognize the greatness of the Black Mountain Army; however, hearing their tunes between sets wasn’t greatly adding to my experience. It would have been no thing to get THE RITA, whose quality has been attested to by a lick of Thurston Moore’s Bull Tongue, or any number of harshed-out acts (like anything Masa Anzai has a hand in, Taskmaster, or Sick Buildings, to name a few) that inhabit the Vancouver sewers. There were a lot of people out to see Wolf Eyes that I’m sure don’t know of the harshness that dwells in the heart of Vancouver’s yoga-pants-wearing casual Friday exterior. It could have been an excellent time to flaunt our filth. I suppose it remains the lot of the Vancouver artist to wallow in local obscurity, having to gain recognition from the ‘outside’, at which point the peasantry will take note. If you are so inclined and have yet to do so, check out a local noise show. The least pretentious genre I know of and rarely more than a $5 cover. This public service announcement is now over.

Wolf Eyes came and commanded that awkward stage at Pat’s. They were more of a “band” then I was anticipating, playing actual “songs” rather than meandering noise-jams. Say what you will about their drunken tomfoolery, but they are amazing at what they do and they clearly love doing it. I don’t even think the crowd minded much that after missing last call the band demanded beer from the audience in order to keep playing. Twice. I have a feeling that the ultimatum was legit. Wolf Eyes NEED to be in altered states to channel the black vomit that they hurl at the audience. I did find a few things about the show to distract me from my reception of bile and holocaust-filth. First and foremost, Pat’s Pub, I beg you, LOUDER. Appreciate that the audience has come to prostrate themselves in front of the stage to be sacrificed by the rightful heirs to Throbbing Gristle. Let us be sacrificed. Secondly, digital cameras, please, take your tourism elsewhere. No matter how many times you randomly point and shoot in the general direction of the stage your picture will suck. Please give up, release and enjoy.