Arguably one of the better venues in town for live music, the Dom has been catering to old & jaded hipsters for quite some time now, bringing in quality live acts that the kids today just don’t understand. Also, get off my lawn and those teenagers are scaring me.

In true rock fashion, the show opened an hour and a half late, much to my disappointment. Don’t these damn kids understand I have to be up early for my morning walk through the mall? Anyway, the wait was well worth it, because The Mercy Now opened up with a distinctly furious set, easily outdoing the entire discography of Grand Funk Railroad. With a ball-achingly high falsetto, the band channeled MC5 and kicked out the jams, inciting a hilarious 3-man pit which sadly ended with this writer being crushed against a nearby post. Somehow I did not spill my beer. Good times.

Muscular, nerdy, and dare I say sexy, Starvin Hungry received a less than stellar reception from those in attendance, but were as good as ever. The band played through a compact set of 60s inspired punk rave-ups played at Mach Q levels. The night only got better when John pulled out his 12 string and showed everyone how it was done. Afterwards, I met up with him at the bar, bought him a drink and apologized for giving him the finger 5 years ago.

Closing the night were Ottawa locals Tokyo Sex Whale who may very well be stoner rock’s answer to Sonic Youth, but I’m probably just saying that because they have a female bassist. TSW unfurled riff after ass rippin’ riff, and by the end of the night, my ass was as ripped as I was. Sadly, I was really too drunk to catch more than the first half of their set, but take my word for it: if you haven’t caught Tokyo Sex Whale live, you’re definitely missing out.

-Aaron J. Marko

Indeed, Capital Music Hall was seething with a sweaty rhythm as the Eagles of Death Metal dispensed their signature hipster metal meets glam-o-rama swagger filtered through codpiece-rock truisms. Vacillating betwixt pop, raunchy desert vibe and saccharine tonality, the Eagles had the birds dining from the palms of their tattooed hands.

Put down the thesaurus dude, you have stopped making sense. Codpiece-rock truisms? Saccharine tonality? Betwixt? What the fuck?

Flying V-wielding axeman Dave Catching blazed through a plethora of solos as the band nailed nuggets. Cherry Cola, a punk bubblegum tune brandishing a greasy brown interior, proved the crack band was stoked on Ottawa’s persistent Friday night vigor.

“Nailed nuggets”? “Brandishing a greasy brown interior”? “Crack band”? “Ottawa’s persistent Friday night vigor”? I… what are you even…

Toronto’s Flash Lightnin’ got the party started right with a finger-picked Les Paul attack courtesy of guitarist Darren Glover, a whip-smart frontman who got the people moving. Falling down the stairs rock and roll never sounded so sweet.

Flash Lightnin’ were good, but it was not a “finger-picked Les Paul attack” (he used a pick, not his fingers). He was not “whip-smart”, he seemed just regular smart not grade-school cliché smart. And I don’t know what the hell “falling down the stairs rock and roll” is.

Anyway newspapers are crappy I guess is my point. Here are some decent videos of the show.