This crescendo crazed composer is hard to define by looks alone. His standard wear is so bleak and monochromatic that he could slip into any room unnoticed. Unlike his contemporaries who welcome attention through fashion, the Post Rocker would rather spend months alone in East Hastings.

Most aren’t aware, but the good majority of Post Rockers are actually mutes. Their lack of vocals are covered up by songs consisting of long drawn out repetitive ethereal landscapes that try to provide the soundtrack for a tour through Chernobyl. Midway through most of their works you would wish you had radiation sickness to end the monotonous torture.

The few who can speak are usually tuneless band geeks who spend all day fooling around in Guitar Center playing with delay pedals. Much like any song they craft, a conversation with a Post Rocker can last 15 minutes and 38 seconds with only about a minute of pretentious substance.

Bored with conventional verse chorus verse rock and roll (see: emo), the Post Rocker doesn’t have much time for a social life as band practice can run a bit long, especially with each song clocking in at an average of 12 minute long.

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moving mountains

the silent ballet