JACKIE-O MOTHERFUCKER- Europe 2002
Laid out for a few days in an American hospital, Joshua Stevenson wondered, "What have I got myself into." He'd only been with the band for a year or so, and it already seemed set to consume his life (for example, a bank loan with interest in exchange for a release of some of the rawest music of the moment). Meanwhile, knowing the early signs of magic, Byron Coley was tearing up the highways of upstate New York in a rented Jaguar - the Brits didn't mess with this beast, nothing is toned down, and it's the only way to make it into Montreal, Quebec proper. Like Stevenson, the city was burning, running a fever. Godspeed You Black Emperor was returning. One last gig, one last gig. Their American cousins with some skinny kid from Vancouver were opening: Jackie-O Motherfucker. Their very name shoots a flag up at customs, but this revue won't be stopped. Eventually, this semi-delusional exchange took place: "Coley? Is that you?" "Yes." "There's hash in the poutine." "It's okay." "If ghosts sleep, do they dream?" "Probably." "I've lost the LAST two hours." "It's fine, still okay." "Time has evaporated and is now condensing on the tent village outside of the hall - it's everywhere." "Relax, let go." "It's Live and Recorded." "Right, both." Listen up.
