Posted: May 19, 2009 – Halifax, Canada
This is all ancillary though. I am here at Gus' Pub to see Halifax (why not) legends and recent Black Lips tour mates, The Stolen Minks.
Just in case you aren't an aficionado of the Halifax indie-punk scene: The Stolen Minks are an all-girl punk trio. They are made out of power chords and A-frame stances, and one of them wears glasses. They play music to cretin hop to.
Stolen Minks songs aren't sung as much as they are blurted in an explosive staccato; the band was originally conceived as an instrumental group. Like the best punk songs, The Minks' are simple in an anthemic sort of way. They are curt and punchy, and over so quickly you don't need to worry about the danger of spraining your neck from all that vigorous head-nodding. A typical Minks song deals with such hoary issues as the frustration of watching your friends grow and mature while you languor in post-adolescent squalor, your highest ambition to smoke pot and listen to Green Day. The Minks' guitarist has an oversized skull tattoo. As she plays I watch it bop happily, left to right, along her upper arm.
As the Mink' set comes to a close, I spy DCT's shants-wearing, and apparently steam-powered, bass-player hanging out at the periphery of the crowd. With slack-jawed amazement, I watch as this beshantsed tank-man clears out the entire dance floor in one fluid motion.
