Romance Isn't Dead, Apparently... I'd be lying if I were to say that the old Lenn-Unn household hasn't been rocking to that endearingly jagged post-post-punk sound. Franz, Futureheads, Killers, and Bloc Party have been shredding speakers and gumming up the hard drive of the old SuperFan3000. So making good on my commitment to increase my ToROCKS output, we decided to take in northern upstarts, Maxïmo Park, at Lees last night.

Thinking we were clever, clever, we came late and caught the tail end of first openers who were earnest Joy Divisioners. Little did we know there were was a second opener, some disingenuous alt-country folksters who had lost their piano player that morning and after the set we witnessed I can't say as I blame him. I passably pass time preoccupied with thoughts of the folks sitting on the west ledge looking like a row of Little Hipster Dolls. Hmm, something there, consider as a title for my next script. Regretting this Sunday night show. Longing to be somewhere, far away...

...11:30 and we are tired and punchy. Things are looking grim. The techs are still futzing with cables. A lone drummer appears starts tapping out a beat as someone who looks like one of Dev Alahan's cornershop managers takes up the bass. The tech is away as frontman, Paul Smith, and the rest of the crew take the stage. We are swept away on a wave of angular riffs, jittery movements, skinny ties and fine tailoring. We have entered Maxïmo Park where the romance of the rock show isn't lost. Paul silently counts off 1..2..3.. and they expertly rip through a succinct set including "The Coast is Always Changing"*, "I Want You to Stay" "Graffiti", "All Over the Shop" and a sissor kick and pressure drop as they elevate the crowd with Top 20 single "Apply Some Pressure".

It is Paul's birthday tonight and in addition to a copy of Umlaut-Mate Motley Cruë's bio The Dirt the typically stoic Toronto crowd's upbeat reaction has to be a much-deserved gift. He's an engaging performer with the uncanny ability to walk that finest of lines between witty inter-song banter, and I-have-the-Mic-and-you-will-listen-to-everything-I-have-to- say-egotism.

"This next song is our penultimate song," and I get it. It's there second last song, barring an encore that isn't necessarily assumed. "The Night I Lost My Head" is launched and you get the agony and ecstasy of being the most literate person in small(minded) town. I can relate. I doubt you'l hear words like penultimate or riposte (fencing imagery seems fitting considering the rapier wit of their songs) thrown around at any other show this year. Not since Pearl Jam dropped indicative in "Why Go Home" has a band made vocabulary so much fun.

Maxïmo Park sing songs of escape to the sea sides and greener pastures of being yourself and getting out of your hum-drum life. It's a love affair with somewhere other than where you are. It something many of us can relate to. I'm ready to go with them. Romance never dies in Maxïmo Park.

*Personal Favourite  ¶ 2:30 PM