If it seems natural to the rest of us, Fucked Up's status as the Horseshoe's Saturday night draw is at least significant for Pink Eyes, aka Damian Abraham. "This is my fantasy," he beamed. "I used to come here every year for NXNE. I always wanted to be right here. I love this city! I love you!"
Onstage, the man is a phenomenon, reeling through pantomime expressions and thrutching boisterously, while somehow conveying the slightly nerdy enthusiasm of a man with some pretty sweet trading cards in his attic. Though you suspect this will be among David Comes to Life's final shows before its follow-up takes precedence, there remains a very real possibility these songs will never get old. It's a hyper-energetic, endlessly watchable live spectacle which, to a surprisingly robust day four festival crowd, is as heart-warming as it is tiring. Pink Eyes, though, never lets up, between songs a fountain of relentless trivia and anecdotes, from a radio show he presented with Horseshoe owner Jeff Cohen to the time Julian Casablancas drunkenly licked him in the venue's dressing room.
"This is for anyone who's ever been told they're too fat or too skinny," he barked, introducing unanimous sing-along "I Hate Summer." "We're all too fat, we're all too skinny, we're all beautiful, we're all ugly, life sucks." His smile betrays a sentiment more genuine and encouraging. Whether fireman-carrying rogue crowd-surfers, hugging anyone thrown onstage or executing ambitious stage dives, he performs with unbridled ecstasy. A bad Fucked Up show would be a stunning live experience. At their best, however, there are few bands with whom you'd rather spend an hour.
Onstage, the man is a phenomenon, reeling through pantomime expressions and thrutching boisterously, while somehow conveying the slightly nerdy enthusiasm of a man with some pretty sweet trading cards in his attic. Though you suspect this will be among David Comes to Life's final shows before its follow-up takes precedence, there remains a very real possibility these songs will never get old. It's a hyper-energetic, endlessly watchable live spectacle which, to a surprisingly robust day four festival crowd, is as heart-warming as it is tiring. Pink Eyes, though, never lets up, between songs a fountain of relentless trivia and anecdotes, from a radio show he presented with Horseshoe owner Jeff Cohen to the time Julian Casablancas drunkenly licked him in the venue's dressing room.
"This is for anyone who's ever been told they're too fat or too skinny," he barked, introducing unanimous sing-along "I Hate Summer." "We're all too fat, we're all too skinny, we're all beautiful, we're all ugly, life sucks." His smile betrays a sentiment more genuine and encouraging. Whether fireman-carrying rogue crowd-surfers, hugging anyone thrown onstage or executing ambitious stage dives, he performs with unbridled ecstasy. A bad Fucked Up show would be a stunning live experience. At their best, however, there are few bands with whom you'd rather spend an hour.
