Back in the day, I lived in Cananada for a short time. But then, didn’t we all? Deep in the Rockies it was hard not to love every pow-shredding, keg-pumping, steak-eating, technical-clothing-selling minute (I worked in an outdoor shop). Especially whilst surrounded, as I was, by Canadians: an open, happy, lithe and ruddy folk to a man. Although I came from a different continent, they welcomed me like a brother: we were so similar it was almost like we shared a common language.
I was befriended by folk from far-off places with mysterious names, names like “Toronto, eh?” and “Newfoundland, eh?” but alas, Cananada is a massive country, and during my time there I managed to not see the majority of it. Of course, that hasn’t stopped me pretending to know what all the rest of it is like, by imagining a place full of people exactly like the small number of people I met from that place.
Let me tell you about Québec: I must’ve been acquainted with at least five or six Québécois (that’s what we call them now, Watson) so I’m practically an authority. In Québec they drink a fuck ton of strong coffee and their brains function three or four times faster than ours. They claim to speak French, but I also claim to speak French and can’t understand anything they say, presumably because my ears are too rigid. They will insist you borrow their flatbed truck one minute and slap you in the face the next. They will seduce you in your place of work and then storm out of your house when you run out of sugar. That’s what Québec is like.
Never a dull moment™.
Math rock, emo, progressive, post-hardcore, vocals
Sounds A Tad Like
Rooftops, Big Kids, Caravels