L.A.dyhawk

March 08, 2007


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What better way is there to celebrate living in the year 'round Summer of Los Angeles, California than spending an evening sweating through your clothes with the hirsute Canadian lads of Ladyhawk this evening at Spaceland? Can't think of anything? That's because there is no better way. Nothing beats fuckin' shredders, man. Nothin'! To bolster our theory, we provide you with our Ladyhawk Gen F from F39 after the jump




Hard Partiers

Ladyhawk’s music from big drink

By Eric Ducker

Over a year ago a few of the bands from Vancouver I was keeping tabs on began dropping the name of a new, local crew called Ladyhawk in the press. A Google search brought me to their Friendster page that they have since abandoned. Under “Hobbies and Interests” was a long, matter-of-fact list that included beer, water, marijuana, guitars, mountains, horses, masturbating (listed twice), shitting, wolves and lights. Under “Who I Want to Meet” was every living member of the Band and the entire Crazy Horse roster with Neil Young mentioned last. When I finally got my mitts on some of their music, it seemed like the most accurate social network profile I had ever read.


The four members of Ladyhawk have been friends for over ten years, growing up together in the small town of Colona, British Columbia. All of them eventually made their way to Vancouver around the time that the city’s music scene abandoned punk and no wave for groups like Black Mountain and S.T.R.E.E.T.S. “In Vancouver there seems to be a lot of interest in rock music where people can get drunk and dance, basically,” says lead-guitarist Darcy Hancock. Though Ladyhawk’s members had previously played with each other in various combinations, the quartet didn’t come together until a show by singer Duffy Driediger two years ago when, during the second half of the set, he was backed by Hancock, bassist Sean Hawryluk and drummer Ryan Peters. After that they ditched their other musical commitments.


Their resulting self-titled debut is a burly affair, held together with bandanas and refreshingly gnarly around the edges. There is glory in its raggedness and a reckless freedom in its sound. Though Hancock describes the group as “a party rock band,” the beer bottles that clutter their world are just as likely to be empty as full. On “Advice,” when Driedger sings So smoke if you want to and drink up your fill/ Your good looks are fading fast so fuck who you will it’s not a call for weeklong warrioring. Instead it comes from a beaten resignation that nothing is worth giving two craps about anyway. Hancock says that the new material they are already working on is lyrically even darker, explaining, “The first album is about the troubles of a working-class man, the new album is more about self-mutilation by getting wasted.” Good times.

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