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Album reviews Music

Teenanger

TEENANGER at the Silver Dollar (486 Spadina), Saturday (September 14), 9 pm. Free. See listing. At Parts & Labour (1566 Queen West), October 16, 9 pm. $10. RT, SS, TW. See listing. At Silver Dollar/Comfort Zone (486 Spadina), October 31. $12.50. RT, SS. See listing.


Don’t call Teenanger a garage rock band. Or a garage punk band. Or a garage anything band.

First off: the Toronto four-piece jams in the Rehearsal Factory on Richmond in a basement space upholstered with show posters and patched-up carpet samples, not a garage. Second: any traces of the swingier garage sensibilities that led 2011’s Give Me Pink and lingered on last year’s Frights have been totally purged on their latest long(ish) player, the lean, mean 22-minute Singles Don’t $ell.

“You’d figure that in 2013, after so many years of people reinventing themselves, they’d be able to handle a slight change,” says drummer Steve Sidoli. “But they still can’t! It’s like, ‘Huh? What is this? You got rid of your Telecaster?’ We wanted to convey a message: Wake up, garage nerds! We’re deviating!”

These days, straying by going electro has become de rigueur, with plenty of indie bands capitalizing on the popularity of dance music to court new fans. Teenanger’s going the other way – getting nastier, punkier, sounding more like themselves, whether or not it $ells. Even their album release show is free.

“Sometimes money comes to you and sometimes it doesn’t,” says guitarist Jon Schouten. “We’re not gonna be like, ‘Oh yeah, we’re making so much fucking money.'”

Instead, Teenanger seem more concerned with contributing to and actively cultivating (via their own label, Telephone Explosion) Toronto’s underground rock music scene, slowly chipping away at the hardened egos of too-cool showgoers who pay a $10 cover just to stand with their arms defiantly crossed. They’ve even started a sister label to issue music on cassette.

“It’s too expensive to put music out on vinyl,” says Schouten, “whereas if we sell 20 tapes we’re happy.”

Sidoli’s eyes light up, imagining an even more boldly anti-commercial future. “Let’s start a label where everything we put out is on Memorex CDs from Shoppers Drug Mart.”

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