Gash with Corduroy and Four Lines and a Groove at the Tequila Lounge, March 7. Tickets: $5. Attendance: 90. Rating: NNNN Rating: NNNN
I have seen the personification of the fierce, raw, electrifying energy that is rock and roll. I have stood in its path and been brought to my knees by its force as it swept through my entire being, ravaging my soul. Rock and roll, thy name is Gash.Corduroy played a nice set of post-grunge, kinda Beatles, kinda Sloan indie rock with piano. And they were good.
But then Gash came on and my heart leapt into my throat. I had to restrain myself from rushing the stage and throwing my arms around the sheer force of it all, not to mention running my fingers through lead singer Gash's mop of blond hair, held in place by a blue bandana.
Backed by an outrageously hot and talented band featuring bassist Beauregard Beachcliff, Deuce Diamond on guitar and Dr. Charles Schickenhauser on drums, Gash blew the room away with amazing tunes like Anna Kournikova (he wants to fuck her!), In The Alley (a good place to have sex!) and Banana Hammock, featuring blazing guitar solos and an attitude that says "Fuck you! But please love us!"
Gash made us all feel warm and welcome by continually shouting out "Toronto!" to let us know that he knew exactly where he was and that we were important to him.
It was during Banana Hammock that Gash ripped his pants off to reveal a pair of tight yellow briefs wrapped seductively around an impressive bulge. As he stood there gyrating in his white socks and running shoes, women swooned; I worried that an ambulance might soon have to be called.
Surely, there could be no topping this moment, but then Gash showed me by bringing it down just a notch with a truly touching ballad about meeting a woman at a wedding, screwing her, then falling asleep and pissing the bed. I felt he was singing it directly to me.
Four Lines and a Groove followed after Gash left the stage and played some fine guitar-driven blues/funk rock.
I then tried desperately to get into the groupie lineup, but, alas, the goon took one look at my flat chest (more on this later) and shook his head. email@example.com