The Mad Murdocks / Cerebral Scrub? / Continental @ Horseshoe Tavern

Mad About Murdocks
When I walked into the Horseshoe last night I was in a very hazy 'I've-been-smoking-weed-non-stop-all-day' daze that I was sure only ecstasy-infused coffee could snap me out of, and since I didn't have either my plan was to - in the words of DMX - 'stop, drop, shut them down and open up shop' on a bench at the back for the entire show. Oh no, that's how Ruff Ryders roll.

So I sat down, made myself comfortable and then holy KABLAMO barman, The Mad Murdocks hit the stage all like they 'got a point to prove, got to make them groove, all like ooh'... and groove they did. If by 'groove' I mean made me go get a drink at the bar instead of sitting on my ass, which I do. Their set of rippin' punk rock in the essence of SNFU was more effective than a bucket of ice water poured on my head to wake me up. They were fast, tight, and heavy... everything you'd want from a quickie with a fat chick. And here I thought I was raw, boom not anymore, they put me on the floor, wishing I could walk... or something. They even topped off their set with some baseball talk which means instant brownie points. I'm pretty sure they are the best thing to ever, and I mean EVER, come out of Whitby, Ontario. Why more people didn't come out is another unsolved mystery, going down in history. Football has never done shit for me, so if you stayed home to watch instead of some killer punk rock please, go fuck yourself, just 'cause I can't stand you.
This review brought to you by DMX.

"Sunday, Sunday, sit on my face!" - Jacob (Cerebral Scrub?)
Cerebral Scrub? were up next and they hit the stage all balls to the mother fuckin' walls, cuming at the small crowd like a raging hard-on squirtin' hot tracks all over the stage and into our ear holes. Yum! These guys have more character on stage than Ace Ventura would on acid, with their guitarist/singer staggering around and making crazy eyes at the crowd like he was possessed, kind of like in Heavy Mental minus all the murder, metal and hot dogs. This band is cocks down one of the most entertaining in Toronto right now, and they hold a special place in my heartgina because of their sick sense of humour and love for everything vulgar. For this reason and their incredible in-yo-face ass-ome skate punk I declare them, BAND OF THE WEEEEEEEEEEEEEK!

I'm too lazy to fully review Continental other than to say that I was planning on leaving after a few songs but they were great enough for me to stay for their entire set. Kind of like Dropkick meets country meets Chip n Dale dancers. It's Rick Barton and his son and sons friends playing pretty epic punk rock for a dude of 52 years old. He rocked that shit like he was 17 again.

blah blah blah, the end.

I'm Sarah. I do what I want.