Tigers Jaw @ Union Tranfer.

Text and images by Darragh Dandurand.

I could smell the sweat of teenagers-off-the-leash before I even made my way into Union Transfer on Monday night to see Tigers Jaw.

There was a line out the door flooded with little scenesters and mosh-ready kids, some almost passing for sixteen years old. In mesh baseball caps, cut-off shorts and T-shirts with barely known band names screened across them, the largely 21 and under crowd plowed into the venue as one big, hormonal mass.

Like hungry little beasts, the crowd intently watched each act, waiting for what they thought was the perfect moment to collectively riot and crowd-surf. Each band whined their little hearts out, complaining about lost love and unbridled angst, while most of the lyrics were drowned out by what sounded like the result of world’s worst soundcheck.

Once Tigers Jaw hit the stage after Loose Planes, Petal and Pity Sex opened up, the fans on the floor pressed completely up to the front of the stage, grinding their bodies against one another to get as close as possible to vocalists Brianna Collins and Ben Walsh.

The sweat pit swelled as more people came to the show and eventually there were upwards of four or five people at any given time all floating above the crowd, suspended by a sea of hands pushing them towards the stage. The kids would crawl their way to Collins, Walsh and any of the other members, run circles around them and then dive head first back into the melee. Some were kicked, some were kicked out, some were hunted down by bouncers, some fell face-flat on the ground when no one caught them but everybody screamed every single song back at the emotionless band.