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Tyvek at The Shop at Parts & Labour, March 23, 2012

I’m stupid, got tickets to Tyvek, took the night off, and didn’t think about having to get up at 8. Late last call, Tyvek on at one, as if we’re sticking to schedule. I met up with a friend and discussed the lack of Weeknd scandal, then walked into Parts & Labour at 11:50, Cell Phones just finished.

Outside, a regular from my friend’s work explained, (open beer about to be confiscated), that, "yeah, the guy in charge of the kitchen [not P&L or my friend’s work] is vegetarian, so he forgets about the meat but he’s a real nice guy. I brine the meat in shit and write him long notes as small as I can write, because I hate computers and typewriters make me want to puke all over myself.” Imagine that less coherent.

My fourth time seeing Tyvek, they’re back to three pieces. The Nothing Fits volume is gone, and Fast Metabolism is the merch table darling. They never abandoned their American it-was-easy-it-was-cheap desperation, but the last four years are peeled back, and maybe they’re imitating their younger selves. Detroit is in ruins, why not keep on the same debt punk circuit, making the right poor decisions? They’re a charmingly anachronistic reflection of the times, while the real sub-prime collapse soundtrack is being made by kids on laptops with parents underwater.

Tyvek at The Shop at Parts & Labour, March 23, 2012

I’m stupid, got tickets to Tyvek, took the night off, and didn’t think about having to get up at 8. Late last call, Tyvek on at one, as if we’re sticking to schedule. I met up with a friend and discussed the lack of Weeknd scandal, then walked into Parts & Labour at 11:50, Cell Phones just finished.

Outside, a regular from my friend’s work explained, (open beer about to be confiscated), that, "yeah, the guy in charge of the kitchen [not P&L or my friend’s work] is vegetarian, so he forgets about the meat but he’s a real nice guy. I brine the meat in shit and write him long notes as small as I can write, because I hate computers and typewriters make me want to puke all over myself.” Imagine that less coherent.

My fourth time seeing Tyvek, they’re back to three pieces. The Nothing Fits volume is gone, and Fast Metabolism is the merch table darling. They never abandoned their American it-was-easy-it-was-cheap desperation, but the last four years are peeled back, and maybe they’re imitating their younger selves. Detroit is in ruins, why not keep on the same debt punk circuit, making the right poor decisions? They’re a charmingly anachronistic reflection of the times, while the real sub-prime collapse soundtrack is being made by kids on laptops with parents underwater.

12 03 27 / Tyvek / Parts and Labour / Toronto / show / criticism / cassette
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