by Nash Bussieres

Toronto’s Thighs (I had to re-read the word “thighs” so many times to make sure I spelled it right that it stopped looking like a word) is a noisy, grinding, wonderful mess of “music” and “sounds.” I assume that’s a guitar, and perhaps those are actual drums, but I can’t be sure.  Just like their name, the more you focus on the music, the more it seems to break down into incomprehensible mush. You can try and slap a “no-wave” or “experimental” sticker on it if you felt so inclined, but that’s hardly doing it justice. It’s partly beyond classification, and I wish I could say the same about more bands.