It was coming.
There was just no way Monotonix, the three-piece sweaty Israeli junk tornado, could go on forever. Hell, the little hairballs crashed through the air and onto the floor with earnest verve for longer than one might've imagined. They toured vigorously for years, suffered broken bones, and trucked it out at every goddamn show, lifting their chain-lightning, press-yourselves-together-'till-the-magic-comes-out, life-affirming near-death catharsis to the balcony and shoving it over.
According to One Thirty BPM, singer Ami Shelev said Monotonix's 12-date tour that began last week will be their last:
Shelev, after a rowdy and rambunctious set, stated that he was 46-years old, their drummer was about to become a father, and their guitarist had some seeds to sow as a single Israeli. He then instructed the crowd to tweet, text and, actually, drive to San Francisco and Austin to follow them on their last tour ever.
The tour is not coming to Portland.
From the fist time I saw them years ago at the Tube, I wondered what these performance art gypsies were up to—how long they could do it, and where they'd end up. I wonder now if they'll head back to Tel Aviv, and if we'll ever hear from them again. I am happy in one aspect: that Montonix get to end things on their own terms.