Some people have a way of making you feel like an asshole - people who seem to use every ounce of their energy radiating good vibes and generally make every effort to be singularly awesome. Andrew Bird is one of those people. While his idiosyncratic brand of string-laden, densely layered indie-pop surely isn't to everyone's liking, his instrumental prowess, boundless energy and lyrical dexterity are, at the very least, noteworthy. By comparison, even impressive performers can seem ordinary.

On Saturday, January 17th, I took the 55 bus through the frigid, negative-something weather, and wound up in front of Metropolis to be greeted by a swarm of black t-shirted, long haired fans -the tell tale signs of any self-respecting metal show.

Back in 1994 Cynic released their debut album, Focus, one of my favorite albums of all time, and one of the albums most important to the development of intelligent progressive metal. They are often credited as being the first band to successfully merge jazz fusion with death metal, and are without a doubt some of the most virtuosic musicians to ever grace the metal scene. But as is all too common for bands that make challenging and truly progressive music, the importance of what they had done was not understood until many years later.

Call me an old fogey, but I’ve been attending hardcore and pseudo-hardcore shows for close to a decade, spent many sweaty nights at L’X and Café L’Inco during my time, and have come to watch the scene somewhat closely, and during that time, I’ve noticed the degeneration of “the scene” (as the kids refer to it as) into a muddled mess of wayward children who care more about their bandanas and cool kicks (often looking like a terrible biker gang than true fans of the music they’re there to listen to.) Although this has been happening for years, Thursday night served as a reminder of the disintegration of a once-enjoyable genre of music ruin