Holy Fuck am I ever tired. The past few days I've struggled to sleep. It doesn't make much sense. I've tried prescription drugs, recreational drugs and even alcohol, but nothing is working. Oh, I even tried to sleep naturally - no go. So if you have an ancient remedy; please let me know post haste. Last night was my trial by alcohol that ended with two-for-one V&T's at Sapphire Lounge with Audrey on the decks and Emily celebrating her 23rd birthday. As I held on to the end of the bar, I chatted all things Chicago with Jim who is equally pumped for next week's Vice installment of the Intonation Festival. Get your asses out there.

But let me rewind and start at the beginning. Last night I got home from work with enough time to do a bit of nothing before Anna came over. From there we snagged some grub at Mama's Food Shop before walking over to the Mercury. Upon entry we found Yaps and George hugging the end of the bar along with their Grey Hounds. We did some catching up until the first rumblings of the Holy Fuck set leaked from the backroom. As we slipped up front my body fell prey to their tight as hell rhythm section while my eyes became fixated on the bevy of toys set up for the front men. To be honest there is no real front man in this band. It's a Canadian four-piece that consists of the traditional rhythm section (drums and bass) while the two guys in the foreground play a table of guitar pedals, keyboards, mixers and even a film reel. The results are funky and danceable, but smarter than a few of their contemporaries. They don't attempt to fill the vocal space with mindless lyrics. Instead they clutter the room with blips, beeps and other anomolies that find a home on the canvas provided by the rhythm. To be completely honest - I'm obsessed. Some may not get it, but at this point in time Holy Fuck has everything I look for in a band.

During change over a quick debate was hatched outside that pursuaded me to stick around for Forward Russia. I knew if it was missed - Jerry, Cara and Jeff (pic courtesy of Central Village) might have my head. Being that I really trust their collective taste, the latest buzz band was more than worthy of a shot. If you could wrap one word around this band, I would choose spastic. The lead singer is a crazy mess, but in the beautiful kind of way. He bounces around stage with no particular pattern outside of his hell bent attempt to strangle himself with the mic chord. His voice ranges from a punk scream to a Justin Hawkins-esque falsetto. The band backs him with a buttoned up post punk style that is ingrained in the sound that has swept England over the last few years. There were a number of moments that got my neck breaking, but on a whole, I couldn't muster the excitement felt throughout the room, (I can now pick Jerry's fist out of a lineup). Expect some big things from this band after their domestic debut on Mute - think new t-shirts.

So that was last night, but before last night there was Monday night. After work Anna met me at 186 for a quick beer before walking down to Bowery for the dios (malos) show with the Starlight Mints. Now up to this point I've always stood in dios (malos)'s corner, but at this point they've lost me. They always appear that they could give less than a fuck about the people who come to their shows. Maybe I'm missing something, but the vibe has been felt over their last few appearances. They write amazing pop songs and yet when it comes to performing them it comes off as boring as sex in the fifth year of a relationship. They try to spice it up and be weird, but in the end - no one is excited and no one got off. It's a fucking shame. If there is one way to rebound from that kind of relationship, it's to go out and sleep with a young peppy partner like the Starlight Mints. This group of quirky rockers kept all the senses happy with mesmerizing visuals projected on a big screen behind the band. This was my first taste of these folks and as a man who enjoys bands like The Shins, Of Montreal and Arcade Fire - Starlight Mints was the perfect rebound.

If you are still reading this, consider yourself a champion. The weekend recap that never was has been erased from my memory. I never want to remember it, but I can say this - there wasn't a bad band in the bunch. From Friday's Lovely Feathers and Dr. Dog show at the Bowery, to the Loose BBQ featuring Shade, The Picture and Love as Laughter, to Melody Nelson's birthday party, to The Phoenix Foundation's Mercury debut, to Mr. Brownstone's unbelievable farewell performance at Bowery, to Knowledgist's goodbye to me and the east coast - this past weekend ruled. Well, it ruled, but I could have done without all the puking on Sunday.