Saturday, June 24, 2006


There are a few things in this world that make me forget I exist. In a good way, in a blurred edges, finally something-to-shut-my-brain-off way. Music is one of them, and Immaculate Machines are a good example.

I was dog-tired by the time I got to the show, and I hit that awkward spot where the first band is over and the headliner hasn't started. Well, it's awkward if you're there by yourself. I ended up talking to Luke from the $6 Million Marxists, which was very nice, but a little uncomfortable.

But then Immaculate Machines. Oh, oh. Dancey and fun, nice voices, all easy on the eyes. They're from Victoria, but they reminded me so much of Halifax. It was pretty dead, sadly. I kinda bopped around for most of the show and then got too tired and sat down. Shut my eyes and disappeared into the sound waves and the vibrations of the 20 people dancing in front of me. Moments like that are vacations away from myself, with no hangover.

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