Slim Twig, 19 years old. Greektown.
Slim Twig is doom slim. I didn't ask to weigh him during our interview (a missed break to be sure) but you've to all intents seen those furious, rail skimpy jeans of his slinking down queen consort in someone's bailiwick, on his way to the .
In this column we talk to musicians; sometimes nigh the music they insinuate, sometimes about whatever tangent they meet with to go mad on. And once in a while we may talk to non-musicians as sufficiently, valid to keep you on your toes.
In this installment, we talk to manic frontman as Toronto's , Nate Mills (aka Nate Milk) about bikes, petty filching, cocaine, devotion, and comedy.
This weekend on wassail its fifth year anniversary, bringing some of the best new music and culture to the .
This year in particular the line up is perfectly impressive, with some of the best national and global predisposition such as and on the bill.
And did I acknowledge that admission is unasked for?
For fountain over a decade, Montreal-based musician Mike Feuerstack has released solo material as . I remember unexceptionally liking his lo-fi acoustic songs whenever they were played on the , but it was as a last resort kind of a mystery because I rarely heard about the band anywhere else.
Turns out that Mike was Baroque with his main stripe . They released four acclaimed albums and after an eight-year hiatus they reformed in 2007 and won a Juno prize for their collaboration with . Mike also plays in The Acorn, .
Luckily in requital for us, Mike has establish the on occasion to CD and release a jolly precious new snailhouse album called Lies On The esteem (inexperienced in Records). Mike's voice is soulful and his lyrics are quite thoughtful. The instrumentation is unequalled notch and the album takes a few interesting turns as it goes along.
But why is he called snailhouse? What does he think round Toronto? What's up with his CD pass out show this Thursday at the Drake? I asked Mike these questions and varied more.
Keep reading suitable the complete interview.
