Capping off the night at Festival d'été's most intimate venue was Atlanta garage rock trio the Coathangers, who took the stage at Rue Saint-Joseph East hot spot Le Cercle at 11:30 p.m. to a packed crowd of partiers. With the majority of those in attendance wandering around with a beer or two in hand moments before the show, it was clear the crowd was ready to go off, and that they did.
From the band's very first lacerating riff and yap into the mic, those inside Le Cercle were at their beck and call, pushing around a small pit near the centre of the stage with abandon and mimicking guitarist Julia Kugel's movements anytime she so much as raised her hands in the air.
Although consistent issues with bassist Meredith Franco's monitor were visibly causing her some frustration, the Canadian concertgoers didn't seem to notice or care, slam dancing their way through any of the band's flubs or breaks in bass. Their energy was infectious, causing members of the Coathangers to liberally pour wine straight from the bottle into their glasses on stage, trade instruments back and forth at will and even cover a punk rock classic by the Gun Club with as much fury and ferocity as their predecessors.
By the time they finished their set just an hour later, they'd raced through a number of songs from their recent LP, Suck My Shirt, spent ample amounts of time screaming individually into the mic, and converted a whole new batch of followers in the process.
From the band's very first lacerating riff and yap into the mic, those inside Le Cercle were at their beck and call, pushing around a small pit near the centre of the stage with abandon and mimicking guitarist Julia Kugel's movements anytime she so much as raised her hands in the air.
Although consistent issues with bassist Meredith Franco's monitor were visibly causing her some frustration, the Canadian concertgoers didn't seem to notice or care, slam dancing their way through any of the band's flubs or breaks in bass. Their energy was infectious, causing members of the Coathangers to liberally pour wine straight from the bottle into their glasses on stage, trade instruments back and forth at will and even cover a punk rock classic by the Gun Club with as much fury and ferocity as their predecessors.
By the time they finished their set just an hour later, they'd raced through a number of songs from their recent LP, Suck My Shirt, spent ample amounts of time screaming individually into the mic, and converted a whole new batch of followers in the process.
