Shellac attack! or: how to survive auditory surgery

Tuesday night: The Horseshoe Tavern.
Pre-show: rum 'n' cokes at home (commencing, perhaps, somewhat earlier than most would assume a good starting time).
Excitement: high.
Also: I waited for at least 40 hours to post this, just to ensure that things would be a bit dimmer than they should be when one is writing a review of something.

To be honest, I am quite new to Shellac. Only in the past couple years have I heard them, though I had read reviews of albums, shows, long before I knew of Steve Albini as anything other than a producer.
Anticipation was running fairly high as we journeyed to the bar; there may have been an excited whoop from someone in the party, but I cannot be certain of this. Certainly, though, there was enthusiasm.
The opening performer, Chris Brokaw, played some interesting pieces——his chordal choices were interesting, and it was fun to compare the (other) music nerds in the audience to the other folks; the (other) music nerds (and maybe I was doing this, too. But there are no witnesses, and I am, to be fair, an [possibly THE] Unreliable Narrator) bobbing their heads, to the 6/8 tunes, counting in two, whereas those less inclined toward music theory were straining their necks once——actually, twice per triplet, since this head-bobbing phenomenon involves an up and down. And that equals twelve strains to each neck per measure! A little excessive, to be sure. But, let us return to Mr. Brokaw, leaving his audience where we belong. Some poorly-chosen (to my taste) effects marred some of the pieces; for example: flanger. I've never really been able to get behind that for anything but its novelty value (yeah: that's coming from the guy who made a lot of the loud stuff happen in HJT. [please refer again to that whole Unreliable Narrator conceit, please]). However, I enjoyed his voice——it reminded me, at its finer moments, of Elliot Smith on "Needle in the Hay." As a whole, though, it was a passably enjoyable set.
And, like many of the people there, I'm sure, I was mostly looking for Shellac; the opening performance was essentially irrelevant. A time killer. But a better time killer than many others out there. So, of course, once the time was killed, more time had to be killed in waiting for Shellac to set up.
From the moment they started into the first song, Shellac put on a great show. An intense show.
Imagine being tied to a tree and witnessing a herd of seismosaurs charging toward you, chased by an allosaurus or three. And maybe——just maybe (best case scenario)——the seismosaurs rumble on past you, step on your toe, knock the tree over, send up a few clouds of dust. You still have to deal with the one (or three) allosauruses (allosauri?!). And they'll probably devour you whole (much easier than continuing to chase the big guys. I mean, you have a broken toe, probably——you won't be able to run all that well——and, of course, you're still tied to a tree [please note: allosaurs are lazy]).
Now, in case you're wondering about the relevance of the above: I will explain it! (see what I'm doing here? It's a trick referred to as: A TERRIBLE THING TO DO. Never lay out the gameplan like that, guys. A faux pas if ever there was one. Just go: BAM! and hit the reader with the thing the gameplan is made of; don't badger them with the plans.)
Shellac was like that. Inevitable. Devastating. Rending everything in its path. And (like a charging allosaurus [or three] invariably is) awesome.
The show was great. It's as simple as that.
The high point for me came when they played "Squirrel Song." It was the first Shellac song I'd heard, way back in the times of mist. And I'm quite sure it's my favourite (which seems to be the case with some other people, too [not that "Squirrel Song" is their favourite or their first, but that the first Shellac song they hear is their favourite]). Everything was played bang on.
And it was nice to see a bass player who gave a shit about what the drummer was doing. Bob Weston, whenever he moved away from the drums for any reason, could be seen inching back toward them, his eyes glued to the snare and hi-hats. Which leads me to my next point (please refer to the paragraph starting "Now, in case..."): Shellac is tighter than... something which is sealed up as tight as a drum. If you stuck your finger in a vise, and tightened it as tightly as it can be tightened: Shellac would be tighter (and possibly hurt less).
It was the best show I'd seen since the last best show I'd seen (and that doesn't even bring the allosaurs or the seismosaurs into consideration). Also note: the last best show I saw was The Evens at the Haviland Club in Charlottetown. I mean: COME ON! Ian MacKaye in Charlottetown! (and it still wins)

(unfortunately, I missed the last two songs: I was overcome by heat, hunger, thirst, sheer volume, fatigue and the big crowd and had to sit on a bench in the blackly painted basement, gulping in air that wasn't overwhelmed by too many people sucking it in)

(and the way to survive this sort of auditory surgery: wear ear plugs. LOVE YOUR EARS! PLEASE! They're the only ones you'll ever have! Unless you buy some new ones from some enterprising young person somewhere.)