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Monday, October 4, 2004

Postcard From Montreal Numero Quatre(B): Strut
Last year we hit Missy Bar specifically to see the Fiery Furnances and came away thinking "What the fuck is the big deal?" That put us way ahead of the curve on still quiet "Fiery Furnaces: Are Shite" bandwagon. But made us a little worried about going back.

There are few more powerful calmer of fears than Apostle of Hustle though. So we packed ourselves in to what seemed to be a re-designed Missy, huddling together for warmth (later pressing ourselves against the window in search of sweet, sweet cold). Andrew Whiteman and his men were about an hour late and a little ragged once they got going, but still fuzzy and sunny and unimpeachable (no matter the definition of is). B. Rilliant. There were video games and a hidden, but surprisingly well-maintained, bathroom. And while waiting for access to said water closet, there were fun girls willing to join in rounds of "What the hell is he/she doing in there?" Don't even think of asking for more.

Other notes:
Hasidic hip-hop isn't nearly as supercool as we'd hoped.
Loft party bartenders deserve our gracious love and respect.
Beans has the best beard.
Lindy gives the best hugs.
His girlfriend has the best job (medical school patient simulator).

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