Live, In Review: Purple City Music Festival
Purple City Music Festival
(Curated by Nurple, the Acid-Eyed Grimace)
Words By: Drew Cox
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After a mucky, fucky week, fatigue had reared it's ugly head again. Blurred vision, muscle aches, poor concentration, dizziness, poor appetite. What I originally thought was "too much work", was actually something much more serious. Fatigue taught me new levels of disfunction and fuckery. Purple City was a welcome chance to reset. And holee fuck… was it needed.
I opened the festival choosing to attend the Friday night at Starlite Room.
VERTTIGO blasted eardrums with a smooth polished set. I found that very surprising for such a new band. Fatigue be damned. I was out. In public. I don't know if it was the after effects of fatigue, or I'm just so old that my eyes lied to me twice! Good thing my friends were there to keep me on the level. It's great to have a source to tell you bluntly when you are being an ass. Colourblind. A great streetwear source from the 90's. Also another one of my ailments. I'm sure fatigue has lasting after effects.
ACTORS crushed the stage, bringing experience and a heavy handed approach to working the crowd. There was plenty of dancing and fist shaking at their set.
A Place to Bury Strangers took to the stage with a bombastic cacophany! Surely one of the must see bands of the weekend did not disappoint. Drummer Sandra Fedowitz was a joyous visual treat. She doubled up on snare and bass drum. She grinned incessantly. She kicked ass without remorse. Oliver Ackermann slayed all in attendance, punishing eardrums with layer upon layer of delishious noise. John Fedowitz supported each with rapid fire staccato bass notes. They managed a lengthy, wall of sound set, that kept the onlookers riveted. A three piece! Wow. Just wow. They were tour tight and somehow stylishly messy. What a harmonic freakout. Hail Satan.
I took this last minute assignment as a volunteer writer with the Cups N Cakes Network. It is fitting that a complete body shutdown took me out of the game for my second available evening. I simply had to rest. The next morning, I awoke after the first 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep I've had in weeks. I ate well, took a slow start, and managed to make the festival, friend in tow, at 4:00 PM at Heritage Ampitheater in Hawrelak Park. The soothing familiar baritone of Jom Comyn gently reminded me of the healing power of music. Cornhole and ciders urged my excitement onward. Pearl Charles brought her brand of Disco Country to the iconic shelter, supported deftly by friend Micheal Rault. Aladean Kheroufi brought the slow jams and stylishly influenced my cornhole mastery. The Garrys reminded me why they are one of my favourite bands. They make me proud to live on the prairies with them. Effortlessly cool, they sounded as tight as ever. And they have the best t-shirt merchandise around. (Bought my friend that super-sick sea monster tee in pastel green). The Shivas were also a last minute addition to the festival. And man, what a treat. It is a special thing to witness a band at the top of their game, execute at a high level. They were the most welcome surprise.
Having plenty of gas in the tank, we decided to hit the Freemason's hall with the venerable Black Mastiff anchoring the show. Great as ever. They still wowed a festival beleaguered audience. I got to catch up with old friends, exchange smiles, share high-fives, smokes and panakokes. The Shivas made new friends playing a quick second set after Black Mastiff.
Purple City Festival coincided with universal lessons about fatigue, recovery and rebirth. Going in, I felt must have looked exactly like Nurple (Look up the Festival mascot for a decent belly laugh). Sometimes you sell your soul to get financially right. You pay the bills, both figuratively and literally, with blood, effort, body and mind. There are casualties in this war. Mental aptitude subsides. Patience wanes. A body refuses to serve. That week was a lesson in overdoing it, self assessment, recovery and renewal. Talent and asskickery help. No-Suck Guarantees are forever.
- Drew Cox