“The problem with working at the bank is that you can’t puke on the desk,” is what Sunset was saying to me. He was wearing his meshback bubble cap and Lungbutter tour shirt. We were sitting against the wall at back of the Silvertone with its stapled upholstery and a light the color of jaundice leaking from the nearby bathroom. “I mean the job pays money and I got security but I gotta keep it clean, gotta push in the client chairs at end of the day, keep the plants alive. It’s a goddamn nightmare.” He put out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table and waved over a few more drinks.

Knife of Sycorax was opening for some indie band that absolutely nobody cared about. The Flannel Affectations is what Parker called them. I wanted to see Knife of Sycorax because I’d heard that they were mental. They played a sort of ambient tape filtered decay and lo-fi daydream distortion with a bunch of incoherent moaning, and I needed a good fix of noise.

Sunset was in anguish about his job at the bank. He was pupating, practically squirming out of his denims, and he hated it. The sticky and warm embrace of janky clubs and inconsistent dinners was beginning to get to him and he was conflicted. He came from air conditioned ranchers on the prairie and an endless supply of corn fed loneliness and he wasn’t meant to last long on the rainy cold streets of east Vancouver and he knew it.

“Dude, just quit. Give it up. Come lug gear with us when we hit the road.” I said. He lit another smoke, blew out a tight cone, shook his head. “Nah, man,” he said. “I gotta do this.”

The server brought out drinks and Sunset threw down some bills, told the server to keep it. We tapped our glasses and each took a sip.

The lean figures of Knife of Sycorax appeared at the side door. They pulled amps and guitars into the room and began to set up. The guitar player was a wraith and the singer was a testament to street chemicals. The staff and patrons stared at the green and blue flashes of a sports highlights on the tv above the bar.

“These the guys you wanted me to see?” Sunset asked.

“Yep. That’s them.” I said. | image @george_natsioulis