INCLINEΔDECLINE DAY 3 Brings Wild Noise Mayhem
Things got real on the third day of INCLINE∆DECLINE. About one-third of the festival’s acts were scheduled to perform for us–the outcasts, the weirdos, the freaks. In the early afternoon, I disregarded my hangover and followed the music notes to a backyard BBQ show, hosted by none other than Brian Schirks’ parents. I arrive just in time to see Zones start their set. The sounds they were laying down made us feel like we were on our own weird little island, swaying and smiling under a hot sun. The clouds made an appearance, so we all huddled under the tents (yes, there were tents!), veggie-burgers in hand, to see ANAMAI perform. Anna provided us with cosmic revelations under a cool Niagara mist–a soft, otherworldly experience that stood out from the festival’s almost constant onslaught of strange-punk madness. Petra Glynt can control nature and brought the sun back out from his hiding spot. By drawing upon the weight of the world’s sounds, her music unleashes cries from humanity’s pain and joy with over the top rhythms and melodies we must make sure not to lose.
The evening shows at Van Gogh’s were moved to the Jimmy Jazz. Look out everyone, we’re in for a ten-band lineup. I guess I spoke too soon when I said day two would be a gauntlet. Gasoline Gathers Hands Gathers Friends and Eschaton each brought their own moving sets of harsh-noise, drone, and ambiance to a quickly building crowd. Out on the patio, Not the Wind Not the Flag made music that skirted the lines between ethereal and wild abandon. We were speechless and smiling, aware we were witnessing moments that will stay with us a lifetime.
Back inside the Jazz, INCLINE∆DECLINE dream team STÜKA blasted industrial rhythms, harsh drones, and fuzzed out vocal chaos. Foam and Hangin’ Tough gave us our first doses of punk and hardcore for the night, while Greasy G got the crowd moving and shaking. Teen Tits Wild Wives are a Toronto super-group I have been wanting to see for a while. Sonic worlds collided as they bridged the gap between Constellation-esque post-rock and hardcore punk. We would have been speechless if we weren’t yelling for more.
While New Zebra Kid resonated our limbs and made us dance, Dilly Dally’s punk rock anthemage resonated the hidden and profound notes in our souls. HSY were one of the loudest things I have ever heard. According to my poorly taken notes, “The crowd is fucked it’s wild noise mayhem Anna is screaming pain the PA can’t handle we try to scream back but she’s stronger than us we all died.” When Toronto’s infamous weirdo noise-punk trio The Soupcans assaulted us with noise, sludge, and violence, I witnessed my friends transform into snarling werewolves. Moshing was not enough for Guelph–people were screaming and howling from the forgotten depths of their guts right back into the The Soups’ faces. If anyone walking by the Jazz happened to look through the window, they would swear a group exorcism was taking place. It is 3:00 AM and the crowd stumbles home, weary and spinning, ready to do it all again on Sunday.