Four Young Boys Have Never Made Me So Happy ... A Joyce Manor Review.

Pedophile, I am not.
In love with Joyce Manor, I am.
Last night's show at Hard Luck (first time upstairs...now my favourite venue. no obstructive pillars, much room in the center, very few hipster douchebags just trying to be scene by being seen, and vice versa... at least for this show) was one of the greatest experiences of my 16-year-old-in-an-almost-26-year-old-body's life.
I actually couldn't believe how many high school kids were there. It took me back to when I was going to/putting on punk shows in Cobourg, and I felt instantly comfortable as soon as I walked through the door.
The smell of teen angst (BO) filled my nostrils as I stood on the edge of the jumping pit filled with kids belting out every word to every song and looking at each other with delight at the start of each new favourite.
I found myself looking at my friend with the same awe, only I felt it because seeing all this was awesome, not because I knew any of the bands material at this point.
Now, merely 12 hours later, I am on my way to knowing every lyric to every song on their amazing 10 song album.
By far the best new pop punk discovery. My friend kept telling me last night how they were the next big thing, and I believe the shit out of her after seeing them.
Four young boys have never rocked so hard into my heart.
Ear boners of love all around.

NOTE: On the way to work this morning I played this song on repeat on my crappy dumb phone's YouTube, using my data plan that is over 80% for the month which just started last week, because I could not NOT hear it. It was like the song was using the Force to bind my ears to its sound.
I want to point out that I neglected finishing the last 10 pages of the 500+ page HEMINGWAY book that I have been obsessing over for the past however many weeks. If you've read For Whom The Bell Tolls you'll understand how monumentally exciting the last chapter is. I have been dedicating every minute alone to absorbing myself in Rob Jordan's epic adventure and this song just Forced its way between me and the gripping finale. If that's not a testament to how fucking good it is then I don't know what is.

The headliner of the night, Andrew Jackson Jihad, who I had originally been most excited to see, actually seemed quite boring in comparison to Joyce Manor. Not to say that he wasn't fabulous, but it less emotionally epic and more aesthetically pleasing, which is never a bad thing mind you. His acoustic pop punk with a stand up bass player (who resembled Jake Gyllenhaal, not that it matters *cough*) and later on an "integrity free" banjo was cute and simple, and featured songs like Woody Guthrie's "Do Re Mi", Neil Young's "Roll Another Number" and Simon & Garfunkels "Mrs. Robinson". The best part was that none of the young audience members who were there for Joyce Manor had heard any of these classic songs, couldn't sing along, and resorted to patiently clapping their way through the set.
In my opinion these songs made the performance.

I'm Sarah. I do what I want.