Monday, 13 January 2014

The Boom Room is coming alive.

We first moved into our space on rue William in our lovely city of Montreal at the beginning of November, 2013 with plans to transform a large open loft into a hub of artistic freedom.

I should mention that although I don't know exactly how old this building is, the infrastructure and "amenities" has me guessing over a century.
Layered paint jobs, external plumbing and electrical systems, sparse insulation, little sound-proofing between lofts, old wood beams, and huge factory windows definitely leaves us feeling like classic bohemians.
The upside to a rustic fixer-upper like this is that we've had the freedom to construct and modify as we like (with a few professional opinions where they are appropriate).

Our dreams for The Boom Room include live concerts, dance parties, music recording and production, beautiful murals, and nice massage trains that quickly turn into massive orgies.

Okay, well we're optimistic people.

The brilliant Tristan Arsenault begins work on one of our walls. The first of many amazing murals to come. 
So far we have had a lot of really fun and inspiring moments in this building; sharing it with friends and new faces alike. We've also been busy building, fixing, and making things look and sound pretty for when you come to join us.
We took some pictures tonight to show you how things are shaping up.

Brandon, throwing down some dope mixes. 
Ripping down a section of wall to make the DJ booth up on the mezzanine was one of the first steps we took.
We recently purchased a PA from craigslist that that we are extremely pleased with as well.

Making a few mixes daily is good for our mental and emotional stability.

And our neighbours love it too!
We're not sure how many can fit on our dance floor but we'd love to find out. 

Sound-proofing the studio space has so far proven to be the biggest challenge for us, but we approach it like men; full of blind confidence, occasional bouts of rage, sometimes pausing to skim through instructions, and remembering that there is indeed still beer in our fridge.

This place is definitely turning us handy.

We believe that when you need something, the universe provides.
That's why we always manage to find the timber, foam, fabric, etc. required.
We also have to thank the awesome people who live in this building who are constantly lending us power tools and other cool equipment that really help things move faster.
As well to all the tips we've received from people who actually did already know what to do.

The floating floor is now finished with hockey pucks and modified pallets which have been stuffed with foam. We're currently working on the walls with some pretty pro insulation.

Can't wait to be back in action with the most proper setup we've ever had, as well as the time to take advantage of it.
More updates coming soon!

Zaman Naimi-Roy

Tuesday, 31 December 2013

In Fairyland

When we were in Fairyland, and no one was anywhere else, we woke up to drums. 
With no question of where the dream had ended, and no question of if we'd remembered to wear the right clothes. Drums. And a continuous hum. A hum so soft. An un-hatable hum. The hum of life without a time limit. A hum infinite. All encompassing. 
The flowers grew out of a lamp post. The shadow had colour. The land beckoned us, we sank into the hum, and stayed there forever. 
By light we revelled, at night we danced, and all the time we were arrived at our destination and looked forward to nothing. We held only to our joy and missed no one.

Because we were in Fairyland, and no one was anywhere else. 

Zaman Naimi-Roy

Tuesday, 17 December 2013

Fairyland EP

Wednesday, 17 July 2013

Zebrat on the bus.

Zebrat raising an eyebrow at steep public transit prices in Van City. Next time we bringin' horses. Biatch!

Tuesday, 16 July 2013

Foufounes Electrique -- The Morning After.


    I wake up with a horrible hangover. My head feels like the door of a cheap motel when an angry pimp arrives to settle a debt. My mouth is so dry it feels as though I'm in the middle of a desert wearing a corduroy suit and listening to Ben Stein give a History lecture. Slowly and with the careful nature of a snake charmer I begin to rise from bed. As I sit up a wave of dizziness sweeps over me like a tsunami and my brain throbs like the Hulk is using it as a stress ball.

    Watetrwaterwatertwaterwaterwater.. Oh my sweet clean goddess of life, how could I have strayed so far? I beg forgiveness at the bathroom sink as my neglected morning erection subsides. I glare down at it, "This is all your fault. Why would I go out if not for you pressing at my jeans and filling my head with dreams of sweaty dance floors and beautiful women?" I turn to the toilet and attempt to urinate as my stomach churns. I briefly imagine that there is a mini night club in there and the DJ just dropped the bass. My stomach responds with a groan sounding slightly like Skrillex. This --which I would have found quite humorous in any other state, makes me grimace. I flush, tuck away my manhood and brush my teeth. Brushing my teeth brings relief similar to that I imagine unicorns may have felt if Noah had gone back for them. Having sufficiently killed the millions of tiny demons making hell out of my mouth I make my way to the kitchen with the tactical grace of Snooki after two bumps of ketamine.
      I start coffee and sit on the counter reminiscing about last nights blurred beauty-- lights, loud music, dark dance floors, feigned interest, lost smiles, lapse of reason, cheap pizza smothered with hot sauce, late buses, and finally collapsing into bed fully clothed without any water. What a sadistic dance we do, this dirty sexy city and I. With Montreal, any night can be prom night and she is an ever willing partner. I then walk to my living room and collapse on the couch like I'd been punched in the face by George St. Pierre and begin wallowing in the post-drunk haze and heat of a mid July morning. Feeling incredibly dramatic and apathetic about anything that doesn't concern the effects of my poor choices, I roll lazily off the couch and switch on my Nintendo 64 with Mario kart inserted and begin to kill the day. All this while pouting wordlessly and hoping that someone will telepathically pick up on my dejected state and bring me ice cream. Hangovers turn me into a very lazy house cat.
True fact.

Brandon Cummings

Friday, 12 July 2013

Sly Magic

We have... Internet presence! ^_^

Zebrat and The Quebec Summer Festival

July 12th 2013

        The night has ended, trounced by the unequivocally powerful morning sun. We arrive at the Quebec train station at 5:15 a.m to catch a 5:35 a.m train back to Montreal. We have been in Quebec three days and four nights and probably amassed a total of 13 hours of sleep. As I (Brandon Cummings) write this I am currently on said train and lacking in many of my faculties, compassion and sympathy, not even enough to give myself a bit and go to sleep.. 
         So what exactly was Zebrat doing in Quebec city for the formerly mentioned time? 
Well there is an amazing festival that happens here for 11 days, from July 3rd til the 14th, and in these days 75,000 thousand people come to dance, drink, yell, drink, instagram pictures of themselves drinking dancing and/or yelling, and of course NOT doing drugs. This wonderful shindig is known to Quebecois as Le Festivale d'ete de Quebec, or Quebec Summer Festival. 
       This years festival included the likes of Bruno Mars, Stevie Wonder, Rush, MGMT, Passion Pit, Weezer etc. Quite an eclectic mix. Zaman and I arrived late Monday evening after I made a quick and rash decision that I indeed DO fully love Bruno Mars with all the bromantical feelings a man can have and that there was no other choice, we MUST see him or it would be me that would be "locked out of Heaven." Yes I am that dramatic. 
So even though the bus ticket was $30 more expensive that day then the next I rushed us out the door and we ran full tilt until we arrived-- panting and mumbling incoherently about catching love grenades-- at the bus station. 
       Unfortunately when we arrived in Quebec city there was only half an hour until he began and we had yet to locate our hostel which I assumed would be easy because I had looked at a picture on google maps of the outside, saw that it was an old brick building obviously in the old town, and figured I would just come upon it like a treasure chest in Zelda. Needless to say this wasn't the case and after running around and around like Flo Rida's turntables, we ended up missing his entire set. I was heartbroken..ish, we had come so close I swear I could feel him loving me just the way I was.

       Tuesday faired much better, we stayed with two people Zaman met on and actually hung out with them the rest of the festival. They were awesome. We went to see MGMT and Weezer that night. MGMT was good, they played at the biggest stage which is set to host somewhere around 50,000 people which I thought a shame because, other than their hit songs, no one payed attention. There was actually so little fucks given during their non-hit songs that I had a hard time concentrating on them. To be fair they were far from ostentatious, I thought they would have done better at a more intimate stage. 
      After MGMT Weezer played. I don't really like Weezer that much. I see the appeal, I appreciate their music and how likeable it is but I just don't get a broner for them. They played well. People payed more attention, I think, I mean they definitely have enough hits to keep a crowd of iPhone wielding teenagers away from tumblr for an hour or so. That was a little rude, it's early and I've yet to sleep… No compassion remember? 
        The rest of the evening was nice. We stayed on our new friends couches and got harassed by their pet rabbit named Wu Tang. Wu tang escaped from his cage (leave it to a clan member to escape from prison..) sometime in the early hours and began trotting back and forth between our couches staring at us amiably and trying to dig holes in our stomachs. 

      Wednesday evening arrived and we met up with our quebecois friends and all went together to see Zed's Dead and Bassnectar. When we got to the show--outdoors--it was hot and very muggy but no rain. Zed's Dead started at 8:30 p.m. It was a very solid performance, they have a great sense of what to give a crowd (especially a crowd full of drunk and/or high people who basically just want things to be very loud). I enjoyed their set and danced hard. Then Bassnectar came out. 
        Now I thought, after watching Zed's Dead, that they had done a splendid job in bringing the energy up and really holding the atmosphere (and they had done that quite well ), however, as soon as Bassnectar started I realized an energy level that I didn't know existed. It was as though I had just bought a house, which I thought I had known everything about and then discovered a secret attic filled with Charizard cards, pez dispensers that never deplete, and a freezer full of ice cream. You think I'm embellishing? Good, because I'm not. This man is someone who has perfected the bass and drops it so damn hot it'd make Ryan Gosling feel insecure.  
        Not long and we were sweating our asses off and smiling like shit-tossing chimps. I must say I've been to a lot of raves and electro/dubstep concerts and I have to say that this show had some of the most amazing visuals. It worked seamlessly with his music and captivated me. Often I caught myself just standing, probably open mouthed, watching with the hypnotic vigor of a zombie observing a brain surgery. 
       Three quarters into his set, whilst most of us were breathing raggedly and dripping in sweat, it began to rain. So perfect this was! His set took a dip into a more trance, hip hop vibe as rain fell noncommittally upon our appreciative heads like Jesus's blessed hand. Then as his set began to pick up again so did the rain and before I knew it he was dropping "Pennywise Tribute," a song consisting of a pounding riff much like a guttural, raw soccer chant. The rain turned torrential and then some giant rubber balloons that had been reflecting lights fell from above us and everything was awesome sauce.

      Thursday showed up like herpes. I mean it sucked. We nursed our hangovers and then we went to see Madeon, Martin Solveig, Wolfgang Gartner, and Tiesto. Seem legit? It most definitely was. Madeon played first and although I super love his music his set was a bit underwhelming, though Zaman reminded me that we were watching an 18 year old dj original material in front of about 15, 000 people and I agreed that Madeon is amazing. I still found his set a little hard to follow, it had a lot of short builds followed by short drops which Zaman used to allude to the young Madeon's sexual prowess.. Because he's young and it's possible he pre ejacs'. Yep. Jokes.
     Next was Martin Solveig and he was good, he played his hits plus some dirty electro baselines. Though, and this is something kind of lame about electro music, one of Madeon's most famous songs is a remix of one of Martin Solveigs most famous songs. Great song but I heard it twice.. Just sayin'. 
After was Wolfgang Gartner. At this point all of it was sounding a bit like- and don't take this the wrong way because I love Electro- a transformer farting. It was great though, I danced so hard I can't move my neck right now. Tiesto came on afterwards and I continued to dance as though my feet and arms were on fire and I had spent my childhood giving firemen the finger. 
                        "STOP, DROP, AND--" "FUCK OFF!"
    Tiesto was great. There were loud synths, and girls singing about love, and wiggly sounds, and whooshing sounds, and heavy bass, and some very glamorous sounding keyboard lines, with a pyro-inspiring fireworks show to end it. All in all I had an amazing time and I really do love all the craziness of electro and dub step, these are simply the musings of a temporarily depraved man who just spent two straight nights dancing like he's going to talk to god. 

    So that basically sums it up.. After Tiesto, Zaman and I returned to our new friends home and played Mario Kart for the NES until we had to make our way through a calm and deserted Quebec City Old town-- looking like a the centre of a village in Skyrim-- to the train station. And now I am going rest my bass beaten body against the modest via rail seat and attempt to lead an eye closing seminar followed by some soothing beat counting.. 128 bpm, 129 bpm, 130 bpm and so on. 
Blog Finished.