The Parker that I met that night at the Underground Junction wasn’t the Parker that I came to know as a bandmate and friend. Like iI said we didn't talk much that night. I might have said two words to her, took one look at her floppy hat and laconic demeanour and thought that I smelled patchouli. I was there to see Hopeless Glamour not make small talk with someone who danced around their east Vancouver garden suite to Ben Harper bootlegs. I'll admit it, I was a bit of a dick. Some people say that I still haven’t shaken it and they’re probably right. Didn't really bother me tho in those days. It was a part of my exterior, like the leather jacket and the fingerless gloves in the winter. Hopeless Glamour played a good set in their wan, over it all Montreal post rock way. I liked them. They were pretentious, earnest, and had a desultory charm that I tried to steal in some of the early Chemical Spray recordings. It didn't really take, Jordyn and I couldn't pull it off mostly because he simply didn't give a shit about that sound. He wanted crunch and chaos. This is when we were an aimless two piece noise band tearing paint off the walls off the hidden experimental music clubs of the Granville District. | image @calvair