Corpusse live Kensington Market Summer 1996

From Vol. 1 No. 1, 1996

Kensington Market, Toronto
Fifteen bands on the sidewalk in front of Who’s Emma, zine & book store
Hot fucking day, first band at one o’clock, drinking beer in the van up the block
friends, bands walking around
CORPUSSE set for five, let’s hang
There’s Spittle, met them last night at the show at 360 following the Cut & Paste zine get-together
There’s Leah, she makes one of the coolest zine things, Flo
There’s May-Lynn, taking pictures like she do
sun hot sun sun sun walking back from XXX Adult Super Store
wow, a band that doesn’t sound like other bands
dig that, mmmm
It’s the guy from Who’s Emma
he sez
‘this was our one & only gig’
maybe that’s how to sound fresh

there’s Armed & Hammered now
tight, heavy, scrapy, loud
love that filthy attitude
sounds like beer to me
drink, drink
‘We got one song left’, sweat wipe

The old man who lives behind the drum kit has to get by
gotta move the drums, let him get in
Before the song’s over he’s coming back out
s’gotta sidle beside the drums, wince a little, I have to chuckle
He makes his way through a little crowd of people totally unlike him
If he said ‘Loud punk kids’ I guess he’d be right
Band’s finished, I’m back drinking in the Family Wagon
Rick & Mark are off putting dresses on
I hang

feedback- yeah, that’s it, it’s feedback
I walk over from the van, towards the sound, without even thinking about it
others did & I didn’t notice they did until after ‘cause I didn’t even notice myself doing it
then I stood with my arms folded, sweating, watching the tall sunglassed figure in a slender one-piece blue dress with polka dots moving with the sound-
the sound swelled up with our intensity
listening watching for the movement we know brings it back down
jerks the guitar back, sound’s down
swells back with our intensities, higher louder squeeeeee
reaction (wince smile straight across almost going ouch with scrunchy face)
then a thought “whoa, feedback”
a look around to everyone’s little look around
“fucking loud”
The street’s full, sidewalk, more passersby wondering, checking it out
Sunday market shoppers old folk too mix with us
Takes a CORPUSSE to reach to the masses
There he is
Two guitars cackle and scream
Corpusse is corpusse, right on
When he stops, the crowd makes noise
Another ‘song’, noise builds and builds He’s really on it now, man,
check it out, screaming on his kneepads
There’s a swell up in the crowd, big hmm’s & aah’s & cheering & noise
Fucking cop car! Ha! Driving slow through the crowd of people that are staring & laughing at it SATAN! SATAN!
“Whooooooooooo Corpusse!!! Whoooooooooooooooooo!!!”
Everyone scream, clap, fucking noise, ha, cops drive right on through
Corpusse king of Kensington then, arm up farewelling the pig car, hair up higher than its cherries, we all laugh, man, cops are fucking funny
Blood covers his chin as it pours from his mouth
He stomps three steps stomp, stomp, stomp. stands like a mountain,
without noticing that he’s just stood in front of an old old man who was inching through the crowd & thought that finally he was in the clear
Wrinkled eyes peer open-lipless-mouthed at the back of the black screaming giant
Even then, I wonder if he can hear anything through the hearing aids sitting in his five-inch-long stretchy ears
Stomp, stomp back over, more screaming, Corpusse is out of his way
The old man, cheered on by the crowd, shuffles by
gives a perplexed look at the two men in dresses making noises behind
Show’s over, the feedback fades
I AM arm up
WE ARE arm down