Have you ever wondered what a "barn stoner grunge band from Montreal" might sound like? Well, it sounds pretty much exactly as you imagined, but even weirder.
Royal Caniche warmed up Le petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda on Saturday night with relentlessly pounding drums and grimy-as-fuck shoe/cigar/whatever box guitar filth, setting a clear precedent of pointless fun for the weekend.
While they were certainly harmless, they also fell pretty flat — honestly, these kinda tunes should be accompanied by more muscle than just goofy, off-the-cuff attitude — and while the whole spiel was mostly fun, including, for real, a totally on-point, dirty-as-hell rendition of Nirvana's "Breed," the half-hour set was a lot of talking and thanking Los Angeles for some reason, and it just didn't leave much of a mark.
The whole hammy bro-rock garage good times are fun, sure, but Royal Caniche seemed too often a bit like a joke that not many people are in on.
Royal Caniche warmed up Le petit Théâtre du Vieux Noranda on Saturday night with relentlessly pounding drums and grimy-as-fuck shoe/cigar/whatever box guitar filth, setting a clear precedent of pointless fun for the weekend.
While they were certainly harmless, they also fell pretty flat — honestly, these kinda tunes should be accompanied by more muscle than just goofy, off-the-cuff attitude — and while the whole spiel was mostly fun, including, for real, a totally on-point, dirty-as-hell rendition of Nirvana's "Breed," the half-hour set was a lot of talking and thanking Los Angeles for some reason, and it just didn't leave much of a mark.
The whole hammy bro-rock garage good times are fun, sure, but Royal Caniche seemed too often a bit like a joke that not many people are in on.
