On Mondays, everything seems to cost double. The morning coffee is twice as dear, the headache it treats is twice as urgent and unjust, the 8 hour day you send in your carpeted cubicle is twice as bottomless and enveloping. But it's all creative math at Memory Lanes tonight, and every Monday night for that matter-- a flat zero cover charge, a full card of bands worth many times that much (nevermind the mathematical implications-- it's a compliment), cheap beer and all the bowling you can eat, tonight's show at Memory Lanes is a perfect oasis of vice and vagary on this chilly November Monday.
Tonight's line-up is, as always, much louder than love. The Sinks are an aptly named three-piece, a gruesome and messy take on the grime and grist left over when all the foam and froth of punk rock washed down the drain in that garage workroom. Loud, hopeless and enthralling, they headline a show that sees Les Deux Magot tightening for their upcoming tour. Like any pioneers worth their covered wagon, they're headed west, traveling as lightly and as fearlessly on the interstate as they do in song. They are a two piece of the most strident breed, and they see nothing to fear in the atonal wastes that exist just beyond the surf punk homeland that anchors their musical wanderings.
Remember that house on your block, where the kids lit bottle rockets at you as you biked past and played Mummies records through a blown out boombox until the cops got called? They grew up and got a venue. And just like it was when you were a bedraggled 8 year old in Dickies and a Miami Mice tee, tonight's privilege is free free free.