Violence is Community at the Truck Album Release Show
Photo by Stephan Boissonneault
There is something truly amazing to witness from hundreds of sweaty young Montreal punks loitering outside of a church basement, waiting for the opening band of the Truck Violence album release. All-ages shows are a double-edged sword; on the one hand, you have a younger audience able to absorb the music. On the other, you have fresh 16-year-olds, openly drinking whiskey, leaving the bottle to smash on the concrete church steps. It’s this kind of behaviour that resulted in this basement, L'église Saint-Édouard, being shut down for shows for the last few years. There’s no real respect at that age yet. It takes many shows before you realize that drinking in the shadows of an alley like everyone else and cleaning up after yourself is the civilized thing to do.
Photo by Stephan Boissonneault
Luckily, some older punks sweep up the glass quickly and we all pile into the venue, immediately hit by a wave of unrelenting heat, both physically and mentally from EVERGREEN—the grungey punk openers. The singer has the Cobain-esque growl down, and I thought they were going to burst into something like “Pennyroyal Tea.” From the buzz-saw guitar riffs, thunderous bass, and trashcan-style drumming, EVERGREEN does feel like a younger Nirvana, maybe a bit too much, but the crowd is eating it up.
Photo by Stephan Boissonneault
After a quick dep beer in the fresh outdoors, it’s back into the underground oven for distraction4ever, a local goth synth-punk duo picking up steam. The lead singer, tattooed from head-to-toe, screams behind a wall of reverb, while a truncated drum machine rhythm cannibalizes itself and the other member, dressed in goth cargo pants, slams some squonky guitar chords. The moshing soon begins, and one eager man starts to crowd surf. It’s madness, but welcomed madness and everyone is taking care of each other.
Photo by Stephan Boissonneault
Another dep beer and it’s time for the main event: Truck Violence, the hardcore noise punks known for their spirited and sweaty live shows, taking the Montreal punk scene like a battering ram through a cedar wall. The room is packed to the gills and as Truck unleashes into songs from Violence, one very sweaty, shirtless, bearded man opens up the pit and raises his arms in the air, waiting for the disgusting, down-tuned guitar drop. A wall of kids crash into each other like a deformed entity, their smiles gritted and bodies flailing, whose only mission is to mosh.
Photo by Stephan Boissonneault
I spot a girl with highlighter green hair, who can't be older than 13—watching the crowd moshing, surfing and Truck Violence reducing the air to a pulp—in amazement and disbelief. This is why all-ages shows are important; this girl’s world is being turned upside down and maybe she might decide to pick up a guitar of her own and write her own punk songs.
Truck is playing hard, maybe a little too hard, as the guitarist Paul Lecours breaks a string. “We need a little break. Just need three minutes,” yells singer Karsyn Henderson as Lecours runs up the stairs to the band van to retrieve another guitar. The next moment is a bit of reprieve as Karsyn pulls out his book of poetry and begins reciting lines as the bass and drums back him up. The little interlude highlights the poeticism of Truck Violence, a band that screams about disillusionment and self-destructive shame and uses vicious and sludgy hardcore music as a means of release, much like a tortured poet uses a blank book and an ink quill.
Lecours is back and Truck drops into a new song, that might be their fastest yet. The crowd howls for more and suddenly every guy in the front row is shirtless, trying to battle this punishing heat. Karsyn dives into the crowd, grabs a fan by the head, and gutturally screams with them. How does Truck end the show? By laying down on the stage floor before embracing and hugging one another.
This may be the last time we see Truck Violence in an underground venue like this. There are murmurs within the scene that Truck is on the brink of exploding on a much more international level. Whether or not that’s true remains to be seen, but a show like this church basement one is going to be hard to forget. For these hundreds of kids, Truck Violence is more than memorable and more than Violence. They’re a community.
Photo by Stephan Boissonneault
Photo by Stephan Boissonneault