I’ve never been to an afternoon punk show. I’ve been to festivals where punk bands were playing during the afternoon. I just never saw the bands. Always got distracted on my way to the stage. You know, cheap drugs, women with loose morals, overdoses, bikers, scenes of terror and depravity to scorch the mind . . . The usual.

So, interested in trying something new, I attended The Weirdies and No No Zero show at Trash Palace. It was a bright and sunny Saturday afternoon, made even more cheerful by my mistaken impression that No No Zero was breaking up. I love to see bands die. But it turns out they’re releasing a record instead. Good for them. I guess.

I should be forgiven for my mistake. There was some wild, late night plan afoot to have me join this band as a sort of Stu Sutcliffe cardboard cutout. In photos, I’d stand in for the drummer. At shows, I would sit quietly on the stage, reading a book while they played. (God knows, I couldn’t listen to their racket every night for weeks on end.) And I would go on tour with them, presumably sharing the back of a van with other humans.

Amazingly, nothing ever came of this excellent idea and I just assumed they must be breaking up. But they’re not. They’ve been able to move on with their lives. Congrats guys. You’ll forget all about me in time. Trust me: You’ll be happier without old Grumpy there to guide you. You’re free now – fly my little birdies, fly!

The Weirdies were first up and this was their first show. More importantly, I had removed my jacket. I’m never quite sure what to wear in the afternoons and decided to go casual. I just wore a pair of grey pants with a bespoke pink shirt and Ralph Lauren polo tie. It wasn’t quite right. A sweater would be quite nice for an event like this. Perhaps even short sleeves and a cardigan of some kind. Tied around my neck.

I’ll have to think about that.

But anyway, back to other people: The Weirdies played songs like Knife Fight at the Planetarium. I strongly approve of songs about knife fights in unlikely locales. Although I’m not sure if people still have knife fights, I like to think they do. And I hope they have them at the planetarium. Even though Toronto doesn’t even have planetarium anymore.

The band sounded like what you would expect from any band whose drummer sports 3-D glasses. They’re a hip-swinging, hand-clapping, foot-stomping, B-Movie Rock N’ Roll type of thing. The Cramps for squares and nerds. They lack the strange and threatening sexuality of Lux Interior or Poison Ivy. But that’s fine. You can’t beat The Cramps at their own game. And, although my day is never complete without someone’s sex threatening me, The Weirdies are good, clean fun. They should really consider wearing beanies with propellers. Those would be smashing.

And they have a really cute bass player with a really pretty neck and a really nice haircut. This always helps me get through a show. Watching men on stage, playing with their toys while I’m unable to hear myself think is always dull. But I like to look at a girl with a nice haircut and a graceful neck. So kill me. I’m human.

She also sang in public for the first time. She has quite a voice, proving that her neck can do things other than look good or keep her head from falling off her body. I liked how she sounded. Not as much as I liked her hair but that really is a great haircut. You’d have to be Sinead O’Connor to out-sing that hair.

No No Zero, on the other hand, has unremarkable hair. Except for the singer. His hair is really cool. It reminds me of Eraserhead. I bet he hears that all the time so I’d never say it to him. It’d probably just embarrass us both. The drummer has no hair at all and the guitar player only has hair on his face. I assume. I don’t know him that well. I can’t even remember what sort of hair the bass player has. But it doesn’t really matter. Bass players should always wear funny hats.

They put on a good show. It was loud and fast and there were songs like Why Won’t You Let me Fuck You?, Beat the Shit Our of Me and, the always popular, Ass Commando. You can pretty much tell if this is the sort of thing that you’ll like — or if you have a sense of humor– from their song titles. It’s the sort of thing I like. That probaby doesn’t bode very well for their record sales.

The bands were on a strict thirty minute time limit and there was clock to make sure they didn’t go over it. I like that. It tells me exactly how much more noise I’ll have to endure before I can go do my laundry.

And it’s just exactly punk. Here’s your time and that’s it. No exceptions. It also stops the bands from fucking around and chit-chatting between their songs. I really hate when bands do that. Just shut up and play. No one wants to hear an amateur stand-up comedy routine. We’re not that in love with you. Okay?

Trash Palace is an excellent venue for this sort of thing. It’s an underground cinema –literally– and the owner has decided to throw afternoon punk shows there once a month. I hope he follows through on that.

My summer could really use some punk rock in the afternoon. Yours probably could too. You don’t need to dedicate a whole night to the shit. Just watch the bands, get the fuck out by 6 o’clock and do whatever else you want. That’s about perfect.

Tickets for these events are available at Rotate This and a few other places. They cost three bucks or something. There’s hotdogs too. And veggie dogs, for those types.

Photos were taken by the lovely Justine Anbeek, who does not, to the best of my knowledge, have a website. The drummer’s face was removed by me because it’s not mine. That’ll teach him to be such a big fat liar.