Phoenix w/ Holy Fuck en Revue

Toronto’s own Holy Fuck and France’s golden boys Phoenix rocked the shit out of the stage at the Sound Academy Saturday night. Although the weather outside was a bit on the chilly side, inside was radiating with heat from the energy of the hundreds of people waiting for one of France‘s most famous exports.

As I surveyed the majority of the audience, I was surprised to be among such a variety of people. From an elderly man wielding a
wooden cane to the flannel shirt and beanie-wearing cool and young hipster, to even the sleek and sophisticated business women
in their sky-high killer heels.

HOLY FUCK

-Words Alexandra DeCarolis

Not knowing that much about the band Holy Fuck and their songs, I went into the concert open-minded and ready for some smooth beats. My, was I mistaken. Holy Fuck blew the roof off with their energetic and beat-pulsating performance. Their songs oozed and dripped with mind-numbing and heavy-hitting electric noise that reverberated off the walls and sunk deep into the pit of your cranium. Every song was just as intense and fast-paced as the last. Unlike other electronic bands who pride themselves on their use of computer technology to alter their music (Kraftwerk, anyone?), Holy Fuck keeps it real with their use of Melodicas and heavy bass and drums.  Seriously, if you’ve never heard of these guys before, what the fuck are you waiting for?

PHOENIX

To Versaille. Propelled. Phoenix shocked and swelled the marvel at 11 Polson Pier on Saturday. Lucky stars and brick rocks, Thomas and his reckless schoolboy chums packaged a rouge performance of classics or hits in a visually magnetic forum of chaotic North America. In an escapade of rhyme, reason, and well composed Pop, tickling synth ruminates this record, this tour, this band.  “Rome” flashed sophomore hearts and 19 Remixes later,  “Liztomania” is still a mansion.  Think Is This It. Only Evolved. French. Cute. And named after a deaf genius. Go Platinum Amadeus.

Photos: Rachel Renda