This article was originally going to be published shortly after this concert took place, which was December 9. However, 2023 ended with me fighting bronchitis, which was draining. I lacked the energy to work on Wood-stein.ca or the Woodstein Media Podcast.

I’m crawling out of the mire and preparing for a productive year of writing. In 2023, I produced 23 podcast episodes, but now that I’ve worked out the bugs and gotten into the flow of podcasting, I am aiming at a dozen episodes a year. One episode I am proud of producing per month seems reasonable. If I score a scoop that needs to be dropped faster, there could be a couple of extras.

I am aiming at a slower pace for the podcasts because I am working on a few longer articles that will be deeper dives into investigation and some extra long pieces that I would like to see published – perhaps by the end of the year – who knows? These will likely not be published before their time by other interested parties who will drag them through all the necessary editing processes.

But now, let’s go back to December 9, in the slimy confines of the harsh music-drinking hole known as the Doors Taco Joint and Metal Bar in Hamilton. When I call this venue slimy, I mean that literally. Whenever I see live music there, mid-summer or late autumn, the walls are slick with sweat from the music lovers jammed into the room upstairs where the noise thunders.

As soon as I arrived at the venue, I was greeted by most MVLL CRIMES, the band I was mainly there to see. I’m not knocking the rest of the bands on the bill; it’s just a fact that this band is one of the hottest acts Ontario has ever produced. Argue if you want, but you won’t change my mind. The band, whether intentional or not, had set themselves up strategically at a table everyone had to pass on the main floor of the Doors if they wanted to go to the washroom. So, if you wish to see the drinkers or a sober old diabetic like me, you will eventually catch them if you commandeer that table.

It was almost two hours in the car to get to the show, so I passed their table as soon as I arrived, and Patrick, the MVLL CRIMES guitar wizard, called me over. He was sitting with Laurie, their Bassmaster extraordinaire, but I did not recognize the other person sitting at the table. Patrick introduced him as Nathan, the new drummer. Holy shit, that was somewhat unexpected, but I get it. Some bands have a solid lineup for 50 years, while the lineup is more fluid for other groups. Nathan has been playing in Pro Wrestling the Band with Patrick for a while, so he’s not new to the MVLL CRIMES musical circle.

We talked about the recording of their debut album, which they had just finished recording recently. Get your ears prepared for some fresh MVLL CRIMES anthems. We also discussed books. I recall talk dipping into music biographies and politics as Keith Richards’ autobiography and the memoirs from Pussy Riot’s Maria Alyokhina and Nadya Tolokonnikova were brought up. I was pressured to deliver longer work. I assure you, it’s in the works, so prep your eyes for some reading, too.

When I got upstairs, where the bands deliver chaos, I could not get into a good spot to shoot photos of the first band, Fight on Sight. It was crammed, and a couple of guys were kicking and swinging fists in the pit. I am all for the explosion of energy that is an excellent live show, but I’m not into getting my teeth knocked out by people who seem like hockey goons. That said, the band opened the bill with striking power that set the tone for the night.

Next up was the first set I was going to see with Nathan sitting on the drum throne for MVLL CRIMES, and, well, it was a seamless transition for the band. They delivered one hell of a set, and the new songs continue to drive the musical nail through my scull with precision. Jill’s vocals give my synapses the electric jolt that gets my brain thinking, plotting, planning, learning and ready to riot.

Thick, heavy, loud, and sludgy, Lowheaven gave the ears a sonic mashing with floor-to-ceiling Emperor stacks in a room far too small to contain the aural assault, so I was glad I stayed back by the merch bar and did not penetrate the inner sanctum of noise to get photos.

Monk was a fascinating discovery for me. Led by Frank Bach, a Canadian expat who left Sudbury for sunny Los Angeles about eight years ago to live a mindful lifestyle and practice self-awareness, compassion and being present, they are a hardcore band that answers the question, what would it sound like if a monk started a hardcore band?

I believe the answer to that question is booming, swift, piercing, and positive. Even though I did not catch all the lyrics as I was unacquainted with the band and got my ass optimistically handed to me with their energy, the vitality of their song shone through.  This was a vivacious set, and there isn’t any other way to put it. It was vivacious.

In a boggy sweatbox, the Single Mothers attempted to give an overenthusiastic audience all the get-up-and-go they could muster, but the walls themselves were slimy with sweat. Halfway through the set, vocalist Andrew Thomson had to make a mad dash for the door to suck in some fresh air on that atypical balmy December night. Despite the heat, with the health break, the band delivered a long set of crowd favourites and closed the night with an incredible performance.

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