I woke up at 2:14 am this morning to a bombastic aural trumpet display resonating from the baseball field across the street from my house. Then, it poured while I slept.
Season change - a little flick of mother nature's wrist. With Victoria at the peak of the only region in Canada where winter is a mere myth, the acute fluctuations that define her rainy season/dry season duality have begun to roll the dice. The air has begun curdling to the foreboding density that permeates her winter rains, blowing its spout in little ferocious showers. And with this comes nostalgia.
"I want to hear you for the first time, again."
Last winter, in the depth of my forlorn circumstances, I found Chet. And now, after a confusing and terribly ambiguous haitus, rumours indicate (hail the concert poster) they're stewing again for the first time since spring.
Chet: Lucky Bar, 08/22/06.
Chet is like the nocturnal creature that urks only at night; but instead only swirls in the humid rains. Kau'ai , their latest record, throws its bipolar tendencies of benevolence and desolation back and forth like mirrors starring each other in the eye. It is candied in cello and climbs all of its ladders with the frantically poignant caress of Ryan Beattie's voice.
On [MmmMmmmMySpace] you can listen to:
Pillow Talk in the Flames (off: Kau'ai)
The Shepard (off: the yet to be released record that will slay us for our impatience).
It's like the thought of swimming while my hand rests flat on the top of a pool of water. May these hot flash weather cycles reminiscent of transversing a car wash continue until the rains hail imminently and we all drown with Chet.
-Tara
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