I went to a show Friday night where I intentionally planned not to write anything. I was going with another friend and, let me tell you, the more time I spend at work sitting on my ass in front of a computer typing away all day… The less impelled I am to do the same at home. It’s really, really, really hard to sit down and write after several hours worth of taking minutes every week. I’ve actually been sitting on a half-finished review for an EP by an Edmonton band for the last three weeks because as soon as I sit down at home and open Word, an overwhelming sense of “meh” sets in.

I am, however, socially (if not morally) obligated to fulfill this review. Y’see, Casey Lewis of The Evidence called me on the fact that I go to shows to write reviews…and my attendant friend just so happened to have a notebook in her purse.

So I went to The New Black Friday, feeling more than a little iffy. It’s an all ages venue. The last time I went to an all ages show, I was 16 years old. The terrifying fact that that was 12 years ago is not at all lost on me. My last all ages show was actually put on by some skeezy, mostly untalented and angry young men from my high school who decided they could make punk music. Granted, untalented and angry in no way takes away from that genre. It was at a venue run by a local Christian youth group, who were appalled by the number of F-bombs dropped, the small circle of dedicated moshers, and (of course) the fact that every member of the band regularly popped outside to smoke up. This band, whose name I cannot for the life of me remember, was not so politely told that they should never return to said venue.

The reason I bring this up is that The New Black, quite eerily, is in the exact same building that this show occurred at. Not the same suite; the high school show was on the edge of the building, a door with a two-step wooden deck, while The New Black itself is all the way ‘round back and up a steep flight of shallow stairs.

And there was no cover charge. I don’t quite understand, and I felt mildly guilty all night. But I tend to spend far too much money on the bands I appreciate, so “free” just never quite computes.

The New Black is a teenage venue. Graffitied, cinder block walls painted black, padding attached to all the hard surfaces, thrift store couches ringed around the edges, and just a couple of pop machines against the far edge to provide refreshments. The stage is about six inches above the ground, which makes for some awkward moments of accidental eye contact with musicians. And after a night spent standing on a hardwood floor in flats…I have to say that if I ever go back, it will be in my shit kickers, because at least they have arch support. The abundance of teenage girls was another factor that makes me wonder about the likelihood of my return; I didn’t really like teenage girls when I was one, and I am not becoming any more forgiving as the years pass.

I am glad I went, though. My summer was spent mostly going to very aggressive shows, with only a couple bright and shiny gigs to break through the noise and chaos. Melody is something you start to miss after a while. I’m just never as passionate about the bands who spend their entire time screaming and growling.

The first act up was Francis Cheer, a man on his own on the small, badly finished black press-board stage. He’s a previous bassist of The Evidence (one of many), indie-boy skinny, with an awkward hunch to his posture, and a soft, melancholy touch to his music. The blue, yellow and red lights mounted on the wall cast a rainbow of light across his chording arm. With only an electric guitar, an effects pedal, and two mics to give a slight offset to the vocal sound, his understated performance was effective and quite moving.

The guitar was bright and open, and he used his pedal to loop and layer sounds as necessary to fill the empty spaces that being a one-man-band often produces. His voice is high with a dusky edge, mostly performed with a soft air of resignation. During one song, Low Pass, his voice peaked desperately, making my skin crawl in response to that melancholy wail.

This man is solid and he makes beautiful music that speaks to the core of folk in my soul. Head on over to his Bandcamp site to immerse yourself in his music.

Next up were The Robertson Privilege, a punk-edged band from Medicine Hat, playing their first ever show in Calgary. At an all ages club… With maybe a couple dozen people out on the floor. Y’know, maybe these guys should come back and hit up The Distillery or Dickens, see what all the scene is actually like.

The Robertson Privilege are Jeff Barrett on drums and vocals, Blair Cooney on guitars and vocals, Scott Hughson on lead guitar and Dean Myers on bass. They put on a pretty solid show and I wouldn’t mind seeing them play again at all. Maybe when they come on back for a bar show.

Blair has a slight nasal edge to his rough voice, sounding remarkably similar to Gerard Way of My Chemical Romance. Jeff’s voice is clearer, and I always have to give massive kudos to singing drummers. The band’s overall sound is melodic hardcore, tonal enough to catch the ear with enough of an edge to keep things rocking. And their lead guitar has deliciously overriding bass tones. That and the recurring use of whoah-oahs basically guarantee I’m going to enjoy a set.

Even if the lead goes out of his way to remind me I’m old in a crowd with an alarming number of teenagers in it… Their cover of Hall & Oates’ You Make My Dreams Come True (no shit) was preceded by: “About 60% of the people here are old enough to remember this one!” And sure enough…

Every once in a while, up on that stage, Blair and Jeff had their harmonies hitting that sweet spot, where the notes are so tight you can feel it electric in the air. Overall, the bass could have been mixed a little higher (the bass can always be mixed higher), as well as Blair’s vocals.

I’m not going to send you off to any of their web presences, however, because none of them have any content populated… But you should definitely keeps your ears open for The Robertson Privilege in the future. It was a fun set.

Next up were the unexpected Inner City Elegance. I didn’t know they’d be playing the show until I was already on the bus on the way to the venue. This is another case of small world syndrome, which I seem to run into a lot. Back at SAIT, a girl who was in the AIM program with me was deeply involved with this band, so much so that she was able to coax them up to her native town in the Northwest Territories to play a show. (By the way, Bruno, it occurs to me maybe that could be where you’d heard my name.) I had heard their name plenty of times but never gotten around to looking into them. Considering they have officially relocated to Toronto, it was just this one strange moment of kismet that let me ever see them at all.

Inner City Elegance are young. These boys look like they’re fresh out of high school, and they came complete with their own teenage groupies. (I guess it’s not as creepy as if the band were in their early 30s, right?) They were only playing the show because their van had broken down in Calgary, and it was a heroic effort on their part; lead singer and guitarist, Bruno Rodrigues, had just passed a kidney stone the day before. With Spencer Kathrens on drums and Justin Parsons on bass, this band is a spirited, raunchy, loud rock act skirting around multiple fringe genres.

The show could have been better. These boys are wicked talented instrumentalists, but I could barely hear Bruno’s vocals throughout the set. I got to pick up bits and pieces, especially during overdriven moments and through bursts of screaming. Their energy made up for a lot of it, but this is another case of a band I’d like to see in a proper venue. With properly mixed sound. (No offense to the intensely polite sound guy who kept us amused all night; these things happen at every show I attend.) I also would have been happier if Spencer wasn’t quite as…ah, shall we say abrasive?

I will still send you on over to their official site, which is remarkably well produced, to peruse their music and their career. And for a chance to buy their merch. Their first EP, Hot & Dangerous, was produced by the seemingly ever-present Casey Lewis. You can pick both it and the NWT EP up on iTunes.

So this moves us on down to the final act of the night, The Evidence. It was not one of the best nights they’ve had…due to multiple sets of technical difficulties. That aside, they give consistently good show, each member of the band burning with their own bright personalities. Dean Rud, bass and vocals, is jolly and playful. Tyler Pickering, guitar and vocals, is mischievous and bendy. Like, creepily bendy. Casey Lewis, drums and lead vocals, is solid and powerful. So powerful, in fact, that he snapped one of his drumsticks in half. (Luckily, he has a pouch of extras slung over one of his drums.)

It’s interesting to be up close for a performance of a band you’ve already seen multiple times. I got to take a look at their massive arrays of effects pedals and associate all the changeovers in sound with the hardware they haul. Tyler would make sneak-attacks at his pedal, lunging in to tap it quick before retreating to the back of the stage.

All my faves from Currents were covered. Crossing the Rubicon even opened up with a super-extra-long drum solo (because the guitar was violently protesting its use). This led to Dean cranking up the bass, and I got to enjoy the rest of the set after that with my favourite instrument mixed too high. Well, really… The bass can never be mixed too high.

Any of you who have not seen The Evidence live…well, you’ve missed your chance for now. They are heading back out for another European tour at the end of September. That doesn’t mean you can’t head on over to their official site and dick around for a while; y’know, watch the video for Damn That River, buy their merch, that kind of stuff. (No, really. Buy their merch.) Both their albums, Polarity and Currents, are available on iTunes, but they come with such incredibly beautiful cover art, you need to go buy the real deal.

And now that I’ve finally sat down and successfully written something (yay!), it’s time to run screaming away from my computer as fast as I can.

Now you make sure you go do your bit to support the scene, kids.

August 13, 2011: The Distillery
Mors Ontologica CD Release – Phantom Limb
w/ Atomis, Illuminated Minerva

Summer and I don’t get along very well. It has something to do with my Nordic blood and the fact that I burst into flames in direct sunlight. It takes a lot to get me out of the house on days that lean towards the 30 degree mark. But let me tell you, yesterday? It was worth the hot wind and the summer dust to get myself down to The Distillery. (Even if they could really, really do a lot better in the realm of climate control. Like maybe investing in an air conditioner.)

With Phantom Limb, one of the heaviest Calgary acts I enjoy, doing their CD release, I didn’t expect the night to be mostly instrumental. The lineup of Atomis and Illuminated Minerva, in fact, might have been a better match with Truck. But unlike most instrumental music that I wander away bored from, the night’s openers Atomis grabbed me by the psyche and forced me to pay attention.

Atomis are Nathan Navetto on drums, Matthew McLaughlin on guitar, keyboard and the very brief moments of vocals, Taylor Johnson on guitar and Steven Berry on bass. They come equipped with a light show and an ambitious graphic backdrop. I probably would have enjoyed the latter a lot more had my glasses not be sitting on the kitchen table. Granted, I never bring my glasses to bar shows… Might be time to start.

 Their set opened with revolving orbs of multiple lights playing across the reflective domed ceiling as a brooding synth lead crept in. The musicians mounted the stage and strapped on their guitars, plugged in their cords. A hesitant cymbal trembled into the soundscape and the noises built. And built. One at a time, darker and heavier with ever step. Moody and intricate, with raw and bright guitars that built themselves up to an urgent pulse of heavy sound.

 And that was when the screaming started.

 Matthew doesn’t have a throat-bleed scream, but it makes the hair at the back of my neck stand up. The unexpectedness of it, rising out of that rich and intricate musical backdrop, almost utterly floored me.

 This is music you feel in your pulse, tingling through your fingers, aching to be let in. The guitars wailed, hollow, lonely, clutching at my eardrums. Moments of bright and clear piano lines, others of brooding and grounded organ.

 Atomis, up there with their lights and the constantly moving graphic backdrop, were completely submerged in their music. As the sound would pulse and drive, so would they, each caught in their own sonic bubble.

 The digital sonic backdrops reminded me, oddly, of whale songs. Not in their texture, but in their tone. It brushed that much more of the hypnotic across their sound. These guys make overwhelming music.

 Instrumental work often has to reflect what the listener has within themselves, so the overwhelming feelings of melancholy and redemption may be entirely my own. But immersed in their music, I couldn’t help but feel every beat in my pulse; inexorable, inescapable.

 Each member of the band was very insular, existing in the space of their instruments, seemingly captivated by the music they were creating.

 And that rare occasion when Matthew actually sang… Baritone, mournful. A lower, more hesitant version of Thom Yorke (Radiohead).

 At the end of their set, the band left unobtrusively. Not once did any of them ever speak, not even to mention the name of their band. But honestly, that helped to never break the hypnotic spell they were weaving up on stage.

 You must listen to this band. Heavy post-rock that is incredibly gripping. They have one of their epic 9-minute tracks, Maelström, up for free download on Bandcamp. Get it here. You won’t know how you ever lived without it. You can also give them a visit at Facebook and Reverb Nation.

 Onwards to Illuminated Minvera. They had such a complexly interconnected drum set that it took four men to get it onstage. It came complete with sample boards like Depeche Mode used with their live percussive acts in the early ‘90s and something like the random wood blocks you would find at the back of any major symphony. Not your standard drum kit, especially not in the world of metal.

 And while these guys were instrumental, too (100% this time), they were definitely a lot more straight-up metal.

The band is Matt Petti on bass, Jordon Bourgeault on that monster of a drum kit, Cary Nord on primarily lead guitar, and Nate Bourgeault on primarily rhythm guitar.

 They were all really into their music, but Cary was especially so. He rocked and coddle his guitar as if it were a living thing while the music built into something heavy, immersive and loud.

 Cary, Nate and even Matt did a lot of work up on the necks of their guitars, too complex to track. I can honestly say I’ve never seen a bassist work up the neck of their guitar before.

 The overall sound was almost ‘80s in the bright, insistent clearness of its metal edge. There is an almost feral quality to their work, and when they all hit it hard, it is intense. It fills the room, fills your head, and is just twitching to overflow.

I, unfortunately, cannot point you anywhere to go listen to any of their music. They don’t appear to have anything uploaded online. You can, however, peruse their Facebook and MySpace sites and wait patiently for them to get some music up for you.

This brings us to Phantom Limb. It’s probably the third time I’ve seen them live, but the spring and summer of 2010 get a little blurry in regards to the shows I went to. They are metal, with a capital everything. Progressive with their instrumentation, but still brutal and unforgiving.

I accidentally met their lead singer, Greg Musgrave, this past spring. He just doesn’t know it. I was working at the Ogden Safeway, and it was actually my last month there before graduating college and moving forward to an actual career (yeah, I know, arrested development). The thing about working in Ogden is that there are plenty of tough-looking men with shaved heads who wear hoodies with obscure metal bands on them. I was going on auto-pilot and asked if he’d like to donate money to cancer research in exchange for a ballot towards winning a BBQ. I was way off somewhere else in my brain when he handed me back the ballot and walked out of the store.

I saw the back of his hoodie had Phantom Limb printed on it. And the ballot I was holding? Yup. Greg Musgrave. I promptly did absolutely nothing about it, not wanting to come across like some creepy fangirl, but the rest of my day was pretty much awesome after that.

So Phantom Limb is Greg Musgrave on vocals and guitar, Terry Baldwin on bass, Joe Sikorski on guitar, and Adam Proulx on drums. Their work is complex, fast and hard. Vocals range from guttural, deep-throat growls to yell-speaking to abrasive screams. All this, and Greg can still sing notes pure enough to make me twitch.

Of course, since the sound had been perfect all night… I’ve never had a single night at The Distillery where nothing went wrong sound-wise. And by the time Phantom Limb were up, it was just a bit too overdriven, melding into an almost non-sound in its distortion. I have a good ear and can ignore the overdrive, but it was rather annoying.

Their work on stage last night was vicious. There is a primal pulse to it, an essential tone and reason. They do some work with odd times and have moments of (let me just melt a little here) Eastern overtones.

Because you need to hear their music, let me send you over to their Facebook and MySpace sites. And as soon as I know how one would buy their CD after having not gone to their CD release…well, I’ll pass that on.

So enjoy the new music, kids, and keep the underground alive.

Ahem.

Where were we?

Ah yes, we had just left Reno talking about free music, accomplishing your goals, and a general lack of drive.

If this is the first portion of the interview you’re tuning into? Dude, go back and read the last one. You’re in way over your head. … Okay, fine. It was Wednesday, July 20, and I was having a conversation with Cranial Collide. Or, well, the three remaining musicians who have yet to decide on a new band name or find a new singer. That would be Steve “Reno” Johnson on drums, Gary Webster on guitar and Ryan Brun on bass.

We were fortified with Steamwhistle, there was an overtly friendly and gorgeous cat meowing loudly enough to be picked up by the mic, and most of the story of Cranial Collide (somewhat in order, too) had just been told up to the exodus of singer Kayla Bil, the alto powerhouse.

So let’s get back to Reno. “We’ll give stuff away for free… And if you want to give us millions of dollars for making rock and roll, I think we’ll agree with that.”

Yeah, we were talking about free stuff. When I went to their EP release party (with Truck, Shotgun Dolls and Gorgon Horde) I was a little shocked to realize that there were no physical copies. When I downloaded the EP, I had fully expected that I’d be bringing home a bright and shiny new CD with me after that show…so when there were none, I felt so guilty that I had to buy a t-shirt.

Part of the reason it was never cut onto CDs was financial. “It wasn’t strictly economics, though,” Reno assured me. “We had also discussed quite a lot about just giving our music away for free. The point is that…we don’t really give a shit if people like it or not. If they like it, they can have it. The leader singer from Perfect Pariah [Aaron Sheard] is still a good friend of mine and he’s in IT. He set up the downloads and all the infrastructure, with the e-mails so we could build a mailing list of people who actually liked us. But if you can do that for free, just give people your music… …. At The Distillery EP release party, we didn’t actually call it a CD release. There was this one bouncer and he’s all like ‘this isn’t a CD release! Where’s your CDs?’”

“It was a t-shirt release party!” Gary offered.

I admitted to them my initial shock and confusion at finding there was no physical copy. My entire music collection after about 2006 is either digital or local; that’s how long it’s been since HMV carried anything I listened to. This led to a conversation with the boys about the death of record stores.

“Megatunes is dead, right?” Ryan asked. “…Sloth is still open, right?”

“Sloth is more a niche market, though. It’s for the collectors, not the general listening public. … They’re a huge supporter of the local scene, too.” Reno sounded confident enough, but on my next day off, I need to get down to 17^th and see with my own two eyes that Sloth is still in existence. My heart hurts just thinking about the possibility…

Gary brought it back around to the free download. “I got a lot of feedback from people about how they had to give their e-mail address and they were hesitant to do that.”

“Nah, they weren’t hesitant about that,” Ryan explained. “They were hesitant to reply to that e-mail. If we would have just sent it in an e-mail after that–”

“Yeah, but it’s just too big to send something like that by e-mail. Zip compression does shit.” Reno shook his head. “There was a valid reason from a technology perspective for what we did. And we needed the mailing address because we were building a mailing list of people who listen to us. In this day and age, people shouldn’t be nervous about that.”

When I asked how many downloads they’d received, Ryan pulled the bullshit dream number of “5000!” out of the air. Really, though, it was 60.

“I think that’s another thing that bugged Kayla a little bit, too…”

Let’s pause Reno there momentarily, then, for me to say this once more. Third or fourth time in the history of the blog (fifth?) that I’m going to ask you to head on over to Cranial Collide’s site and download their EP for free. Was that link long enough for you? Do I need to make it longer? Click it.

There. Good.

Onward.

“But, y’know, it wasn’t widely received with great accolades…”

“It’s not really like we’ve had a huge following at all,” Gary added. “We have a few regulars, y’know.”

“But it takes a year or two to even get known on the local level, to build a following. It’s a process, and considering that we’ve lost personnel and all that stuff, I think it was a pretty remarkable twenty months.”

“For sure; really, we accomplished our goal, which was to create some art. Even if sixty people enjoyed that art…or if sixty of them downloaded it and five enjoyed it… At least somebody’s out there enjoying it.”

I seem to get myself into this delusional space where I assume that once I like a band, everyone else out there with a similar taste in music will be on the same track. But Cranial Collide was the one band that everyone I brought to a show enjoyed. (I won’t be able to speak for whether or not they were too lazy to actually download the EP.)

“So long as someone’s out there enjoying our art,” Gary finished, “then we’ve accomplished our goal.”

“And just because someone didn’t download the EP doesn’t mean they didn’t enjoy us live,” Reno said. “Maybe they were too drunk to remember our band name.”

I have to admit I’ve been to a few shows where I could barely even remember my own name… So I completely understand.

Gary picked right up on the alcohol angle. “It’s interesting, because my whole perspective has changed in this band. Because I hadn’t played for six or seven years, and going to a show was all about getting wasted. You listen to the music a bit, but I usually wouldn’t remember the band names the next day. My whole perspective has changed now. When I go see bands, it’s all about ‘let’s check these bands out.’ Coming from that background, though, I wonder how many people are coming to shows in that same mindset. I’m sure probably 80, 90 percent are. Maybe not so much in the local scene…it’s usually a lot different kind of mentality there.”

(Although, at 3:00 in the morning standing outside of The Distillery while waiting for a cab…the number of severely drunken metalheads is almost always breathtaking.)

“Y’know, people going to see big bands at stuff, I think that’s usually the mind-set.”

“Depending on the band,” Ryan offered. “At Lyle [and this with no shame] there weren’t that many people drinking, y’know?”

Gary actually burst out laughing. “I guess. I’m sort of coming from the metal scene, so.”

“And I guess Rise Against, NOFX or Bad Religion, when they’re all-ages shows, it’s all 13-year-olds.”

“I guess it’s interesting, all the genres kind of have their own mentality.”

“That’s true, though, at Black Label…” Ryan took a breath. “I was pretty drunk in there. Didn’t even stick around for all of that one…”

“I can understand that. … Calgary doesn’t have a huge scene, so it is hard to get known in Calgary.”

I’m sure it would be easier to get known in Calgary if we weren’t considered Nashville North by the rest of the world, too.

“We were actually planning a show in Edmonton,” Reno followed up before Kayla quit. I think it might have put some of the pressure on her to make her decision known. We were talking about going up mid-August to do a show there with Peribothra.”

“We were talking about doing a show with them in April, too, I think.” Gary. “But that fell through. The venue they were going to play with us at got double-booked.”

“They wanted to go Friday and Kayla had just started a new job and didn’t want to take a day off to drive up there.”

I had to ask about their actual show with Peribothra, November 2010. As I’ve mentioned earlier, I would have absolutely loved to see those two bands share a stage… But…

“They played the show on a Sunday at Vern’s,” Reno explained.

Yeah. Sunday plus full-time student usually equalled a no-go.

“They just contacted us—Atlas Shrugged was the same way—they just looked for a progressive band, went to our MySpace page, contacted us. MySpace, which is dead now, isn’t it?”

 “MySpace is still kicking a little bit,” Gary said while Ryan added “for music only, I think.”

 “But Peribothra are pretty big into the prog rock, and they’ve actually got a Facebook group called Prog Rock Alberta,” which now that Gary has been kind enough to tell you about, you should go check it out.

Reno went on to explain “they’re all good dudes, too. What I find is that most of the bands we can play with comfortably… We sometimes get booked with punk bands and metal bands that don’t really jive on the bill with us. But when we get Atlas Shrugged or The Unravelling or Truck, those people have a different mindset of life, almost. It’s like a philosophical thing. Progression…being about evolution and growing and all that stuff. Hopefully we can grow that community a bit.”

Most progressive bands (prog rock, prog metal, what have you) wave that flag long and loud on their websites and within every press release, so my mind kind of skipped track a bit and I found myself asking out loud “do you find Truck progressive?” before I actually understood what I was asking. I promptly felt like a moron.

“Well, yeah, for sure,” Reno said. “They’re doing way too much odd-time and poly stuff to be anything else.”

I told the story of the first time I’d seen Truck live, with Steve Moore doing vocals on three tracks at The Distillery in May of 2010, how I’d stopped in my tracks and tried to justify the beats and finally verbalized it with “but I don’t understand…”

“That’s almost the definition of progressive,” Gary chuckled. “When you listen to a song for the first time and you say ‘I don’t understand.’”

“That’s prog music the genre,” Reno added. “Even rock and traditional stuff has a responsibility to be progressive. That’s why I hate mainstream music so much, because it’s all fast-food shit for your brain. You can play a rock song and just do one measure that has five beats in it, and it would just trip everybody out. I think people would respect that you’re actually a player who cares about making something interesting. There’s a responsibility that’s been failed by the music industry as a whole because they don’t try to move forward.”

There was a momentary pause as Reno and Gary realized Ryan was being hypnotized by the music visualizer up on the big-screen TV. A few Family Guy toad-licking references later, things got back on track.

“…So where are we at? The band’s broken up,” Reno said.

“Yeah, while I was on vacation!” Ryan found his voice again. “Reno texted me and he’s like ‘I don’t want to bug you on vacation, but, uh, Kayla just quite the band.’ What the fuck? He wanted me to at least text back and say I knew before he posted it on the internet.”

“I didn’t want you to read it on Facebook. That’s not how you do things.”

“Yeah, breaking up with a girl, maybe, that you’ve been dating for seven years?”

They are started laughing. “Not in a relationship,” Gary said.

“Not in a band.”

“Yeah… We had to change our Facebook status.”

Ryan brought it back on topic. “I e-mailed these guys something along the lines of ‘we should just take our time finding a singer and figure out what we really want to do,’ and they both thought that I was quitting.”

“I don’t think it was like that,” Gary began—

“Yeah, it was something about getting together and talking over beers later,” Reno finished.

However ominous that message sounded, it was just because Ryan didn’t want to type out a long message while he was out on vacation, away from technology. This was met by an immediate text from Reno demanding to know whether or not he was bitching out. “No, I just wanted us to take our time getting a singer so we wouldn’t have to get another singer in another six months.”

“We’d seen this coming too, and we’d talked about what we would do if Kayla quits. We’d already said if she’s out, we’ll keep going and look for a new singer,” Gary explained.

“I think the hardest thing is going to be finding a singer who gets along with us,” Reno said.

“Yeah, the only reason me and Ryan get along with him is we just don’t give a shit.”

“Apathy,” I observed, “is the driving force of a band.”

“Not the driving force,” Ryan corrected. “It’s the grease on the wheels.”

“We just get along really well,” Reno continued. “We hang out a lot outside of the band, barbecues, hockey games…so long as it’s not the Bruins vs. the Canucks.”

(Incidentally, Ryan is for the Bruins, Reno for the Canucks. And no, Reno wasn’t burning any shit down after the final; don’t worry, I checked.)

The conversation jumped back from hockey to the band. “The most important thing about 2011,” Reno observed, “was that we found our sound. We were all honing into our sound…and it wasn’t really what Kayla liked, and I think that was it.”

“We’ve all been jamming together now for over a year and I think we just have a sense of where we want to go now,” Gary said. “It’s a step back, but sometimes it’s nice to take a step back too.”

“Well, as long as it corrects your trajectory.”

“Now we can look where we’re going. I think we really rushed into Cranial Collide. We were all pretty eager just to get something going. We were all coming from different backgrounds, and I think it just made it all disjointed like we said before.”

“Those are lessons learned, though. Even if we never find a singer again… I think we’ll still record if we don’t. But this is just what we do. We’re buddies and we hang out together and we play music on Monday nights. That’s pretty much what it is.”

“You’re giving away all the secrets,” Ryan complained.

“But yeah, it’s just more of that no-pressure stuff.” Reno put the interview on hold for a moment as he went to locate Sprocket the Cat, who was trying to break out of the house. Once he was settled back, he observed “we’re just telling the story…and I was saying to Ryan it’s nice to get nostalgic a bit and reflect back. I’m pretty proud of what we did. Especially with the time we spent. I think it’s pretty ambitious to try to play progressive rock, and play together three hours a week and miss some occasionally because of…whatever.”

“We’re definitely not the most committed—” Gary interrupted himself. “I shouldn’t say that. But we’re busy people and music’s not the priority, but it is a priority. We have some methods that we’ve developed to help us work with the time we have.”

Since the chronology had basically come to an end at this point, I decided to back it up to a point that hadn’t been covered: Steve Moore’s duet with Kayla on the epic song that is Deep Water. (You remember that link? Halfway up the page now? Yeah, go click it if you want to listen.)

“Um… I just asked him if he wanted to sing on a song,” Reno admitted. “I told him that was my symphony. It was a song that I had written while Gary was in Europe, so I had the one main riff and I tortured myself three hours a day listening to it, trying to figure something out to go with it. So I was pretty proud of it and I thought I should ask good ol’ Steve. He was happy to oblige. … What was it, the first time we played it live, Steve played it with us…”

“And he hadn’t practiced with us,” Ryan added.

Gary’s addition: “I was almost so blown away when he started singing that I couldn’t play my part anymore.”

Having been in the audience that night, I have got to tell you…he had reason to be blown away.

“Steve’s such a great but humble guy,” Reno went on. “He’s a guy that’s achieved quite a bit; been on international soundtracks and stuff, and he’s still willing to just help a buddy.”

On the topic of additional vocals… The boys haven’t made much headway in the realm of finding themselves a new singer.

“We’re holding interviews,” was Ryan’s abrupt initial statement.

They aren’t looking specifically for male or female vocals, “so long as they fit the part,” Gary told me. “Not just with the music we’re writing, but with the band too… And if they can handle Reno.”

“Bruises don’t show up on tape.”

“I’m the Canadian Larry David,” Reno announced.

“But if there’s someone who we can hang with and get along with and jive with, that’s the main thing,” Gary finished.

Reno made the specific request that Steamwhistle be brought up in this write-up somewhere. I, being a proud supporter of Canadian beers that aren’t mainstream toilet water, will gladly oblige. “It’s my favourite beer,” he admitted. “People should really join their Facebook page and buy their merchandise.”

Ryan asked “are you looking for a sponsorship deal? … Steamwhistle would be a sweet band name if the beer weren’t already named it.”

I realize that this is already longer now than the last one, so let’s skip ahead to the last question, shall we? If the remaining three quarters of what used to be Cranial Collide could share the stage with any Western Canadian artists (within reason) they haven’t played with before, who would it be?

Reno: The Evidence

Ryan: Choke [dipping into the past a bit for that one]

Gary: Unknown; he finds new bands as he plays shows with them.

The entire band came to the consensus that they would like to play with Truck again (even though that totally wasn’t the question). But, y’know, who wouldn’t?

The reason (sorry) for that last bit being so abrupt is that my recorder ran out of space. My bad. I have to remember to delete random vocal tracks after offloading them next time… I tried to record the rest on my cellphone, but that was an absolute joke. I got half of every other word.

That’s okay, though, because the greatest part of the interview happened after I hit stop anyway. Reno’s plans for that weekend included camping with his family, and he talked about how it would be good for the band to go out camping together at some point.

Gary burst out with: “band camp!”

I really couldn’t have come up with a better ending.

So if you happen to be a singer who wants to try out for a casual prog band with good taste in beer, drop me a line and I’ll pass the word on. I might even update this with their actual contact information at some point (giving out personal cell phone numbers would just be rude). And if you do not yet own the free EP by Cranial Collide, Surrealevance, I am going to give you one last chance to head on over to their site and do so. Now.

Reno would like to ensure that you all know the band wishes Kayla the best in her future endeavours. As do I. So here’s to the music and the people that make it; keep the scene alive and be well, my friends.

I had the chance to sit down with the remaining three quarters of what was once Cranial Collide last Wednesday. Considering that I am almost pathologically anti-social (yes, I see the irony in my new career at the Mental Health Commission of Canada), an interview, a bar-night and a gathering all in one week fried a circuit somewhere and I spent all my alone time doing…well, basically nothing whatsoever. If huddling under my headphones and blasting mathcore music so loud that my brain almost liquefied is really nothing.

The big problem here is that I hate typing, especially after a week of being the resident low-tech computer “wizard” at work. I utilize the keyboard in my spare time to tell stories; that’s my thing, and the reason why everything here meanders so much. Every time I had a spare moment last week and thought of the major effort behind transcribing over an hours’ worth of interview? Yeah, that’s not so cool. So I decided to sit down and take this from a different angle today. Start writing and use the recording as reference.

Let’s back up a bit here. It was the end of May, I was working my practicum at Canadian Pacific, where I sat in front of a computer and hit copy and paste. All. Day. Long. I had a very small paycheque coming my way from the 10 hours worth of work I’d put in at Safeway (my actual, paying job at the time) and I was suddenly faced with a dilemma. See, Cranial Collide was playing a show at The Distillery with a burlesque troupe. And that was awesome. But I was functionally broke; if I wanted to be able to feed myself in my last couple of weeks at CP and maybe even hope to catch the train there, I had to decide not to go. So I promised myself that I would catch their next show.

Unfortunately, that landed on the same night as the first bar show The Evidence had after returning from their European tour (there is no write-up, I barely lasted past their set; CP was bad for me on so many levels). I weighed the pros and cons, and ultimately The Evidence won because I hadn’t seen them as often. Considering how poorly I ended up doing in the crowd of indie hipsters at Broken City, I probably should have just gone and hung out with the sketchy punks and metalheads who tend to populate Vern’s. I would have felt less out of place and would have gotten in that one last show…

At the end of June, I was quite dismayed and more than a little bit heartbroken to find out that Cranial Collide had split. Not quit or imploded, as often happens to bands on their break-up, but Steve “Reno” Johnson (drums), Gary Webster (guitar) and Ryan Brun (bass) suddenly found themselves without vocals. Kayla Bil had chosen to take herself in another direction.

On one hand, I am greatly upset that the lush and brooding combination of her alto voice and their progressive, creeping soundscapes will no longer be there to create more beauteous, primal noise. On the other, this could mean that two new and wonderful things will rise: the musicians finding themselves a new singer and moving forward, and the voice finding a new band and doing the same.

It was on a complete impulse that I asked the boys if they’d like to do an interview. I don’t really know how these things are supposed to be done, having only ever interviewed one other artist…and that was for a school project, never published where anyone but my instructor (whose worship of Reznor made her epic) could see. So I wrote down some questions, packed up my notebook, grabbed an ancient M-Audio recorder and its adapter (the battery life is only somewhere in the range of minutes now), and headed off to meet Reno at the C-train after work.

The interview was held at his house, a cozy four-level split with a comfortably lived-in feel. There was a smugly beautiful brown tabby named Sprocket (let’s hear it for Jim Henson fans!), one of the most unfortunately friendly cats I have ever met. Unfortunate because you really find out just how allergic you are to something after three years away from all furred creatures. My eyes were neon red by the time the evening was over.

I was offered a Steamwhistle upon first arriving; nothing makes a better first impression than good taste in beer. So it was all pretty casual, me and the remains of one of my favourite local bands sitting around Reno’s basement with my poor old recorder perched up on the arm of a sofa, all drinking bright, good Canadian beer.

The conversation started in logical order, at the beginnings of Cranial Collide. “It’s embarrassing,” Ryan admitted from his shelter in the farthest possible seat from the mic, “but we met over the internet.” A mild shrug. “That’s how most relationships start nowadays.”

Reno went on to explain how he had been in a band with Kayla before, called Brooklyn’s Ego. Things had not gone very well, with “personnel conflicts” between himself and the piano player. When he left that band, Kayla asked if he wanted to make another and so they posted for help online.

Gary was the first to come on board. “I was looking to get something going; I’d played in high school, but I hadn’t played for five or six years. I’d sort of given up my guitar to go to university, but I was starting to pick it up again.” He brought with him the song Convictions and a part of Smashed. The first song they wrote as a band, though, was Simon Says.

Their bassist at that point was Tennessee Bergen, another internet foundling. “Bass players are brutal to find,” Reno quipped, “because they’re all failed guitar players. They think that four strings is going to be easier than six.” His voice was light, though, and Ryan laughed along before admitting that he did play some guitar too.

There was tension in the early band between Tennessee and Kayla, but the ultimate reason behind his leaving was that he didn’t like the direction the music was going in. “It was like the first amicable breakup of a band, I think. Ever.” Reno and Tennessee talked it out and decided together that the bassist (being a fan of sludge- and doom-metal) would probably be happier outside of the band. He left with his cut of the kitty and has gone to a great deal of their shows since then.

Ryan doesn’t remember how he came to answer Cranial Collide’s ad, but figures he was “probably drunk.” It took four months before they contacted him, and he showed up with borrowed gear. “I was all nervous, because I thought they were going to go talk …. and then Reno’s like ‘if you want to be in, you’re in.’ Without even talking to anyone.”

“Well, me and Reno were kind of giving each other ‘the nod,’” Gary said.

“I think he had left, though, and we discussed it a bit… It wasn’t love at first sight,” was Reno’s jovially sarcastic reply. “There was due diligence behind that decision. … He played with us for six weeks, we recorded a demo and then played two shows. Recorded on Monday and then played on Wednesday and Friday, that was Ryan’s sixth week with us.”

“I didn’t even know all the songs at that point,” Ryan admitted.

“Yeah, I think he still doesn’t.”

“Well, we don’t have any songs now.”

“We have halves of songs, lots of halves. … We could combine them and make a song or two.”

I should stop for a moment because things never come across in text the way they do in person. These guys get along really well. The good-natured ribbing was met by laughs all around. When you read things, they sometimes seem a little too sincere…so I just want to make it clear that none of the mean stuff (and there was plenty of it) was anything but playful.

Back to the unfolding timeline, Graham Panchuk of Perfect Pariah (another band Reno has played with) came on board to learn some guitar lines because Gary was heading off to Europe for a while. “He was a wicked guitarist and really fun to play with. We did a couple of shows with me and him both. I really liked adding that extra guitar element in. I’ve been trying to convince these guys to get another guitarist, but…”

“More people…” Reno shook his head. “It’s more drama.”

Graham, though, was a Dragonforce-playing “prodigy” who learned Cranial Collide’s material in two weeks. With Graham on the guitar and Gary in Europe, they played a show of maybe 400 people at The Back Alley in the summer of 2010, opening for Atlas Shrugged (“progressive rock with progressive ideas,” as Reno describes them).

Let me say I’m absolutely shocked The Back Alley played anything that didn’t epically suck. It’s a little bit confusing. Atlas Shrugged, previously from Edmonton, shipped themselves permanently off to Ontario after that show and I have tasked myself with looking into them. Later. Once I’ve learned the seven new albums I got last week (eep).

“The other biggest show we’ve played was probably at Vern’s,” Ryan offered.

“At Vern’s?” Reno was sceptical.

“The second show I played, not at The Distillery, but at Vern’s.”

“Oh, The Unravelling… Yeah, that was a pretty fun show to do, for sure.”

That show was also the first time I’d ever heard of or seen the band. I will admit that I was a little iffy when I first saw Kayla walk onto the stage; my past experiences with female vocalists have left me with a bad taste in my mouth more than 90% of the time. I hadn’t expected to get my ass handed to me within 30 seconds of her opening her mouth.

“It was just great to play with those guys,” Reno said of The Unravelling (whose live set consists of Steve Moore on vocals, Gustavo de Beauville on guitar, Scott Taylor on more guitar, Bryan Sandau on drums, and some dude on bass). “We’ve played with Truck a bunch of times, too. Bryan and Scott [permanently of Truck] and Casey [Rogers, bassist] are all just rad dudes. …. We’re typically all friends, it’s a pretty good scene, really positive.”

Cranial Collide kept playing shows up until November, when it was time to prepare for recording their EP. The original plan hadn’t been to have Casey Lewis (drummer/lead singer of The Evidence, and the man behind Echo Base Studios) help them record; it was the other Casey (Rogers, Truck’s bassist and substitute frontman) that they originally asked. “He was doing Brimstone Rise’s EP or something like that,” Reno told me. It was Steve Moore who suggested they record with Lewis instead, “and we all have a lot of respect for Steve.”

The natural order of the universe being what it is, Rogers finished up the project he was working on just before they went in to record at Echo Base. One wonders what the EP would have sounded like under different hands… But I am a great fan of Lewis’ production work and am ultimately glad of how it turned out.

The songs for the EP were chosen by vote, which Reno feels gave it a “disjointed feeling.”

“I think even just our music at the time was really disjointed. All our songs were really coming from different backgrounds,” Gary said.

It was after the EP that their writing started settling into a sound of its own, but things started slowing down for the band. Reno had to take some time off for his health, Kayla was busy with her job, and Ryan blew his shoulder rock climbing.

“It was kind of like everything just went to shit all at once,” Gary observed.

“Well, we weren’t really having the greatest jams anyway because Kayla wasn’t there,” was Reno’s reply. “I mean, we were writing a lot of music and staff, but–”

“I think our jams were going pretty good, but then–”

After Gary and Reno struggled with tact for a bit, Ryan just let it out. “All of our jams were going good until Kayla showed up.” It was spoken more with resignation than malice.

After being absent for a few sessions, she came back disapproving of one of the songs they’d been working on. It was ultimately decided that if they ever played that song, it would have to be instrumental. “We didn’t want to do just an instrumental song, because Kayla’s a big part of the band, or she was at the time…” Gary picked up the thread of the story while Reno and Ryan went on a quest for chips and more beer. “I think that just put a big damper on everything, leaving that song behind. It left us with some hard feelings. … It’s just kind of the first signs, I guess, that she was starting to pull away and didn’t like the direction we were going in.”

Shortly after Gary returned from a vacation, what ended up being Cranial Collide’s last show was a spot at Vern’s, offered up to them by MoFA (interestingly, another alt-band with a female vocalist) because they had just broken up. Ryan recalls handing stickers out to everyone in the bar at that point (see what I missed for Broken City? I tell ya…), and Reno guesses that the stickers were probably a bad idea. “Perfect Pariah was the same way. We bought stickers, did two shows, then our bass player quit.”

The timeline got a little wobbly at this point in the interview, so let’s skip back to while Gary was still on vacation. The band, sans guitar, had a last acoustic jam at Ryan’s house together. (His dog really liked it. “She has good taste in music.”) Completely unaware or what was to come, they put together the finishing touches on a song called Melon Collie. (Which may get dangerous and confusing, considering The Smashing Pumpkins have Mellon Collie.)

The talk of melons and collies led to discussion of Porcupine Tree or Cantaloupe Schnauzer as (sarcastic) future band/song names.

“We could name all our songs after different types of dogs,” Reno quipped, while Ryan added “and fruit!” in the background.

“Enough about the citrus!”

Gary was grinning at this point. “You’re getting an insight into our writing process.”

It was the perfect time to broach their differing backgrounds. Reno initially started into music playing the violin, which is so vastly different from drums that it makes your head spin. His musical taste runs the gamut from progressive, immersive, and theatrical alt-rock to jazz. Gary’s more into metal bands with epic riffage along with some bright punkers. Ryan has his background in stoner rock, fast-and-dirty punk, and Lyle Lovett.

But that’s okay, because we had a conversation about the boat-and-pony song. I may…even know how to sing it. (*coughcough*)

“I think that’s one of the reason we called our…last band…Cranial Collide,” Gary said, the hesitation on the past-tense reference obvious. “We know that we all come from such different backgrounds.”

“It’s about learning to play what’s appropriate in each song, not just what you want to play. Learning to play in context,” Reno explained. “That’s what I get from playing with you guys. We’re all becoming better players, individually and collectively.”

“I think that’s the thing that keeps us all together, too. We all have the same vision; despite being from different musical backgrounds, we’re still able to incorporate those different parts and influences into what we’re writing. But…with the same goal of making something different, something special…and something that sounds awesome.”

“And free! Making art…” Reno got caught up and started expounding at length. “The only goals that this band ever set were to play one or two shows a month and record with our gig money. …. This is my social time, my personal development time. It’s a strange place to be in when you accomplish your goals, it’s almost just maintaining where you’re at. I think that’s one of the reasons Kayla left, also. She said she didn’t like the direction the music was taking, which is fair because she comes from such a different background. …. She wants to make music her career, and that’s a fair thing to say, especially when you’re 23. But when you’re 35, I mean, I’ve got two kids and a mortgage… [Kayla’s] got way more drive. We just don’t have any drive.”

And let me pause if there for today, kids. I realized that I’ve been typing for over three hours and I’m only halfway through my material, operating on approximately six hours sleeps over the last 48 of ‘em. I’m sure your eyes are burning too. Tune in tomorrow…(god, I hope it’s tomorrow) for more fun and excitement with Reno, Ryan and Gary.

To pass the time, hit up Cranial Collide’s site and download Surrealevance. For free. While you still can. Yeah, I meant now.

After settling the tab at The Barley Mill, we perused egregiously priced jewellery at Wanderlust…and I bought a russet, stone-cut owl pendant. I don’t, as a general rule, buy jewellery. It just caught my eye in the way things only can after three beer.

Ultimately, what this little adventure meant was that on top of showing up after doors (something I never do) and wearing my office clothes to a bloody show (at least the skirt was plaid; that gives me some credit, right?), I showed up already a little tipsy with an owl hanging from my neck. A small, tasteful owl.

Now, I know I’ve written about a show at Dickens’ Pub before, but I didn’t really get into the place itself. Dickens’ is, hands down, my favourite bar in Calgary. If I could choose the venue of every show I go to, it would be Dickens’. The bar is (literally) underground, one of those basement places with a staircase that gets more formidable as the drinks are poured. They don’t just play good shows, they play good music between times. I was once there at noon to pick up tickets for Front Line Assembly, and they were playing Morrissey, Depeche Mode, and The Cure. I was in heaven.

Last night’s background music was more along the lines of what I think of as the new-New Wave. Indie kids who unabashedly show their ‘80s roots in every note they play. It’s the kind of music that I always find myself grooving to, but won’t admit to liking when it comes time to flex my purchasing power. Peppered in were some hardcore punk tracks, some pitch-black and bass-heavy alt, some reggae, and even Pat Benatar’s Shadows of the Night.

It was an incredible relief to be at Dickens’ after the massive fail that is Stampede week in general, filled with bad country and being groped by drunk tourists on my train rides home. The Stampede and I have been at odds ever since Matthew Good was met by a hearty “meh” on the Coke stage eight years ago. I went the year after that for The Tea Party (epic; thunder and lightning being called from the sky kind of epic), but what used to be the trend of all-Canadian alt-rockers on that stage has been getting murkier and murkier every year. Haven’t set foot in the grounds since 2004 and don’t plan to again. This was just the first year I went out to do something elsewhere during Stampede week.

The night’s opening band were The Drive, who had quite the obvious influence of heavy ‘90s alternative. Which, in my books, is always a good thing. Including Ben Volway as lead and on guitar, Jeremy Heide on guitar and backing vocals, Steve Thompson on bass and Krista Forand on drums. At least, according to MySpace.

The Drive play it hard and bass-heavy, Ben’s baritone (allow me to melt a little bit here) smoothing over the instruments. He has a decent wail and the lyrics were all of the personal, heart-break variety. I wondered for half the set who they reminded me of (aside from my teenage CD collection) until one especially snide growl from their vocalist made me realize they could be Carfax Abbey’s twin.

There are fits of pentatonic scaling, mouth-watering Eastern flavours, and very insistent, heavy bass lines. The fact that the vocals are baritone is that sweet little extra on top. Now, he didn’t always hit the right notes on the high or low ends of his range, but I’ll try not to be too much of a snot about it because he never missed when he was raging or wailing.

I have to admit during Wanna Leave (I believe that’s the title), it was hard to keep my jaw off the floor because the guitar and bass kick so closely mirrored Nine Inch Nails’ Closer that it couldn’t be an accident, while the lyrics “I want to feel you from the inside,” I swear to god, were actually part of the song. This sense of déjà vu returned during Schoolyard Window, which was so Sister Awake (The Tea Party) that I could almost feel Jeff Martin’s presence in the room.

They performed two (actual) covers during their set (Rage Against the Machine’s Killing in the Name and Pantera’s Walk) and I thoroughly enjoyed them both. I admit that I may have burst out laughing when I first heard that pulsing guitar from one of the most covered songs of all time (Walk), but it’s good fun to scream along to at the top of your lungs.

The boys around Ben on the stage were all very comfortable performing, in that laconic way alt-rockers have. The bassist was an amp-stander, the guitarist kept his shoulders slung low and focused broodily on his playing. The drummer was hard to see, but did have yummy hair. While they gave themselves over to the music, it was obvious that the lead singer wasn’t nearly as comfortable up there. His nerves were apparent in the way he fumbled with his guitar cord constantly, got down to the floor to mess with his pedals, made faces every time something went slightly wrong. During the final cover (also the final song) he took the mic out of its stand and it started cutting out; it obviously had some kind of a pinched wire that wanted to remain stationary. He stood up there shaking the mic and getting progressively more frustrated and red-faced.

There’s only one thing to say to performers who get caught in the truism of “shit happens.” Go with it. There is not one musician on the face of the planet who has ever had a perfect show where nothing went wrong, but the audience often has no idea. The moment the performer makes a big deal of it, it draws the audience’s attention there. I would have never known he was having technical difficulties with his cords and pedals if he hadn’t drawn my attention with almost exaggerated moments. And the mic only cut out when it was in his hands; the easy solution would be to just put it back in the stand. Yes, that makes it impossible to throw your head back and bark “Re! Spect! Walk!” up into the mic, but would you rather whiplash and dramatic effect or functional sound?

I know I’m sounding overly critical right now, but I would totally have bought an album. You see how I say “would”? Yeah. If I could get up on top of some very tall hill and shout so every musician in the city would hear me, this would be my message: Self-promotion is as easy as bringing a stack of CDs with you every time you leave the house with your equipment! In the past six months, I have not purchased at least five albums that were mentioned on-stage but not available in person. I can tell you for a fact that if I don’t see The Drive again, I’m not going out of my way to get my hands on their work. They were good, but at my core, I am a lazy purchaser.

You should definitely give them a listen, though. Their MySpace has a few songs up for perusal.

Next came The Evidence, the reason I let myself get double-booked. This band was the most unexpected love-affair my iPod has had in years. I listen to everything from folk-rock to death-metal, but I have to admit that most of my collection is pretty doomy. An ex once described my average playlists as “music to kill yourself to,” so the light and open sound of The Evidence is at tremendous odds with…well, most of the rest of my collection. There is a darkness and frustration to the lyrics, especially in Currents’ political songs, that is constantly buoyed by Casey’s bright voice and the playfulness of the music itself.

Sorry, I’m assuming everyone knows the line-up of The Evidence by now. On drums and lead vocals, you have Casey Lewis (and I have to say for about the millionth time, a singing drummer who can do both rockingly well at the same time just blows my mind). Guitar and backing vocals, Tyler Pickering. Bass and backing vocals, Dean Rud.

(Let it be noted that Casey has an epic, sparkly red drum kit with a shiny pink snare drum as well as a Manic Panic red streak in his hair.)

There is an incredible camaraderie between Dean and Tyler on-stage. Casey is necessarily kept out of this by his drum kit, but it’s always set up sideways to give the shows a more open and inclusive feeling. I may have mentioned before that I like my musicians to get into their music. Not that much to ask, right? The Evidence deliver every time.

Each member of this band reacts to the music in their own way. During instrumental stretches, Casey throws himself so hard into his drumming that he nearly doubles over. Tyler is very bendy, jumping and creeping across the stage constantly. Dean is a kicker, grinning like a maniac throughout most of the set. You can tell when performers feel their art not just in their minds but in their souls, and I think it’s their obvious love of the creation of noise that has drawn me so inexorably into their music.

Their set opened with The Oath, which is not nearly as dangerous to me now as it once was; see, now it’s Crossing the Rubicon that gets stuck in my head for days at a time instead. The Oath was, however, the first song by The Evidence that I learned every word to, so I gleefully sang along. We, the audience, were thanked for coming out to Dickens’ instead of being at the Stampede grounds (a definite no-brainer of a choice for me, personally), and there was a discussion about the suitability of bad-ass Personal Jesus cowboy hats.

I was surprised to find out that I actually remember all the titles to the set list they played. Well, except one (Scales, which always twigs in my brain with the line “leaders will lead and rebels rebel”). In the digital era, it’s very rare for me to know more than a handful of song titles. It was different when I physically handled CDs on a daily basis; nowadays I’ll learn the lyrics to half an album before I even remember what one of the songs are called.

During Bridge and Bones, a song where Dean takes lead vocals on the verse, there was a well-handled technical issue. Tyler swooped in to provide backing vocals, only to have the mic stand circle violently away from him. He just chased it and kept singing, twirling it back around nonchalantly when the line was done. See, that’s how you deal with “shit happens.”

There was a very amusing moment after …And If I Refuse (which, by the way, is still warring with Crossing the Rubicon for the place of favourite). A drunk man, probably in his late ‘40s, shouted at the handful of people standing in the pit to get out of the way so he could see what was going on! He had obviously never been to a real show before in his life. If I didn’t always come to shows armed with notebooks now, I’d constantly be out on the floor.

Dean tried to explain to this man that there was a “fun zone,” while Casey quipped “if we were old, we’d probably be in the comfy zone too.”

The closing song was Damn That River, which Casey acknowledged as being “about hiding your feelings and what that does to you over time.” You could really hear the influence of David Grohl (The Foo Fighters, Nirvana) on Casey’s voice during the overdriven parts of this song. The ending of the song has been extended specifically to make it an epic finale track; the crash and chaos rings on in your ears after the instruments have been stilled.

What I realized last night as I tried not to grin like a fool throughout the entire set (sorry, I was goth for almost a decade, visibly enjoying myself is still taboo) was that The Evidence actually makes me happy. A lot of my music is about feelings of vindication or catharsis through rage, but there is no pretence as I give myself over to pure bliss endorphins listening to these guys. If you want to get your bliss endorphins on, head on over to their site and buy their music. Or, y’know, preview it for free and then buy it.

So I was definitely in a good place going into Skavenjah (from Regina, Saskatchewan). Let me just do one thing (because I didn’t get it until halfway through last night)… Scavenger. There. It’s done. Anyway, as you may guess from their name… They are ska.

I was a teenager in the ‘90s, yes. I hung out with the punks, metalheads and would-be rastas. I knew a lot of people who listened to ska when it was the next big thing. But…I never got it. I can appreciate the musical talent within the genre, the technical aspects of it, but again… I don’t get it.

Skavenjah, however, do have an undeniable energy on the stage. They have their own little brass section, consisting of Colin Neufeld on trombone, some dude whose name I cannot track down on trumpet, and Dan Hanline on Tenor Sax. Okay, yes, I know that a saxophone is a reed instrument; I was not a band geek (musical theatre/performing arts geek), but I had many friends who were. Also in this eight-man band are Andre Boehm on drums, Rob Dakiniewich on bass, Rick Gelsinger on rhythm guitar, Cody Gamracy on lead guitar, and finally Chad Guy brings the vocals.

The were all dressed in suits, white shirts, black ties. In the summer, under the stage lights, jumping like maniacs at least once a song. That takes fortitude. And their musical skills are very solid. I wish, though, that the vocals would have been mixed higher or the brass’s mics mixed lower.

Chad has a playful, sliding vocal style. He pushes the edge of his range sometimes, but he knows it and goes with it. He has a talent for getting through to the audience. Skavenjah would make the perfect party band. Actually, something I would like to see is Skavenjah and The Plaid-Tongued Devils (a local outfit of klezmer-punk misfits) sharing a stage. Now that would be a party.

I unfortunately have nothing else I can say about Skavenjah; I feel as out of place writing about them as I would writing about country or rap. I do not know enough about the genre or feel enough towards it to give an educated opinion. But if you like ska, head on over to their site and you can take a listen to their songs and grab yourself some merch. I admit, the fake-suit tee is cute.

I should have planned ahead better going to this show, though. I knew it was Stampede week, but I didn’t quite understand what that meant. So calling the necessary cab to go home? Yeah, that didn’t work out so well. “It will be there in half an hour” turned into an hour of my waiting out in front of the bar. While I was calling Mayfair back to see what in the hell was going on, Dean Rud of The Evidence came by and asked if I needed a ride home.

So in a roundabout trip past Echo Base Studios to drop off Casey and all the equipment, then getting somewhat lost in the too-far-south end of the city, I actually got that ride home from Dean. He introduced me to Circa Survive, a unique New York-based band with epically moody soundscapes, male vocals that go past tenor and into soprano, and delicious bass-work (that could be mixed a little higher in every single song). Check them out. Now.

So thank you, Dean, for not leaving me stranded downtown at an ungodly hour of the morning during Stampede week, for rocking on the stage, and for introducing me to another strange and wonderful band.

All in all, it was a good night/morning to kick of my last weekend at the age of 27. Yup, I’m officially one year older on Wednesday. Creeping closer and closer to 30 all the time. Eep.

The official notice:

“It is with deep regret that I am annoucning that Kayla Bil has decided to leave Cranial Collide. Kayla was a major contributor to all lyrics and of course, was the voice of the band. With her departure, Ryan, Gary and I will be forming a new group to be named later. We will begin searching for a new vocalist in the near future. Thank you all for your support over the past 20 or so months.” – Steve “Reno” Johnson

So the boys are still at it and I will support their next career move. But that isn’t going to stop me from moping and listening to a lot (and I mean a lot) of Surrealevance for the next few days.

It is still available for free download at their official site. Go fill your ears.

Damn. … There isn’t nearly enough good music out there for the good bands to go breaking up. But let’s wish both parties, the boys and the voice, the best of luck with their futures.

So let’s talk about an Edmonton band. And I won’t stand for any of the Calgary vs. Edmonton shit that the NHL and CFL seems to have bred into this city. I spent most of my childhood in one of Edmonton’s satellite cities, completely unaware of the antipathy until I moved to Calgary when I was 10.

Allow me to introduce Peribothra. I actually missed seeing one of their shows last November that I would have gone to if I hadn’t been working. Because they were opening for Cranial Collide, one of my favourites on the local scene. If you enjoy Cranial Collide’s soundscapes, actually, you should also really like these guys. They’re a progressive act, showing their colours with sounds that bring to mind all the greats of the ‘90s alt scene, from Soundgarden to Tool.

Pascal Chiasson is on the bass, an import from the east coast. His work is crawling and immersive. The way it pulses and drives, I am immediately sucked into every track with no hope of return. The first time I put in their self-title debut, what was supposed to have been a quick listen turned into a 3-hour fit of distraction. Every time I went to turn off the music and go do something, I somehow failed. Yes, I am a sucker for sweet, smooth bass-work. The rest of their line-up ain’t bad either.

Casey Mills is guitar (I’m going to need a spreadsheet to start keeping track of the Caseys pretty soon here). His playing goes from the bright and raw ‘90s sound I still love and wish to hear more of, to hollow and crystalline (which reminds me strongly of Truck’s Scott Taylor). He has previously worked with Leto, math metal heroes on the Edmonton scene.

Ian Bonyun is their drummer, also a veteran of Leto. I always attribute the strength of polyrhythmic music, dropped beats and odd time signatures to the drummer, and Ian does not disappoint. The rhythmic structures aren’t as complicated or brain-twisting as Truck’s work, but I still do find myself stopping and trying to count the beats every time I listen.

And finally we get to what really drives me with every band I listen to: the vocals. Raimundo Gonzalez hails from Chile originally, and he has a fascinating voice that gets its claws into my brain and won’t let me go. His voice is earthy with a purring grate on the finish. Imagine if you took Ed Kowalczyk (Live), Chris Cornell (Audioslave, Soundgarden) and threw in a little James Hetfield (Metallica) for fun.

The production on their debut is fairly raw, playing out almost like a live effort. There’s just enough smooth on the edges to give it that professional push forward. I’m usually pretty picky about production value by genre, but these guys don’t need anymore gloss on what they have.

They’ve recently put their debut up for a free download. You can grab it here. Yeah, I do mean right now. Come on. Click it. I feel morally obligated to tell you, though, that it’s… Very. Bloody. Addictive. And if you want to get your hands on a physical copy (which you do), drop the band a quick e-mail to work something out.

I’ve just done more writing in the past three days than I have in the past month, so unfortunately I’m not going to be going through songs at a time because my brain is starting to break. Besides, you know how I said the bass keeps distracting me? Yeah, the part of me that worships bass just keeps running off and dragging my attention span with it. This band is dangerous.

Check out their official site and stare in awe at the incredible, ethereal album artwork they have up there.

And just let me say, if I could see this line-up on a live stage, I would die of an overload of awesome on the spot: Peribothra, Cranial Collide, and The Unravelling. Those three bands should get together and chat once The Unravelling start their comeback. The world needs more awesome.

The background music was another surprise. The line-up of bands for the night was BDFM (hardcore punk), Stab.Twist.Pull (hardcore metal), and Throne of Vengeance (good ol’ classic style melodic metal), so the fact that every other song was either by Bad Religion, pre-96 AFI, or Dropkick Murphys… Well, it was a little confusing. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed it (grinning from ear to ear and singing along to Barroom Heroes at the top of my lungs before I was even buzzed), but I’m used to the background music being better suited to the upcoming show itself.

Doors were at nine, as per usual, and BDFM were just doing their sound check at ten. Sadly, that’s also pretty usual at a lot of Calgary shows. There are reasons I often don’t get home until three in the morning on my nights out. With only three bands in the line-up, the after-ten start wasn’t a great detriment.

So let’s talk a bit about BDFM. Six members. Kristin and Mark go joint on lead vocals, Jamie is on lead guitar, Scott is on rhythm, Jason on drums and Froid on bass. If I had full names, I’d be writing them down here. And yes, you saw right: there is a female vocalist. I have been out to a dozen shows in the past two years and have seen precisely two, count ‘em, two girls behind the mic on stage (and precisely two working the bass). Girls are really under-represented in the scene, but at least when they are there, they are awesome.

Kristin has a strong voice, with the same throaty, burned quality as Brody Dalle (Spinnerette, The Distillers). She’s very expressive on stage, her fingers splayed and free arm twisting sinuously along to the music as she yells in fits and bursts into the mic. Throughout the show, Kristin remained in her own little spot on the stage while Mark wandered. He is a restless performer and a fist pumper. Very into the music, leaning into every shouted word. And while he never actually sings a word, he does have a very tonal yell. He is definitely the frontman of this project, spitting out sarcastic and self-deprecating remarks between songs.

Jamie was just as into the music as the singers, practically dancing with his guitar off in his little corner of the world. I can’t say the enthusiasm was carried by the other two string players, who mostly stood there and just straight up played. I suppose there do need to be some cool heads in the chaos if you’re working on such a small stage with so many performers.

The music is very hard, very fast punk with massively complex and awesome basslines. And whoah-oah choruses! Yeah, I’m a sucker for those. The drums never let up and I actually feel kind of sorry for Jason for having to keep up with the entire thing. I totally would have bought an album. Y’know, if they had brought any.

Oh, Calgary’s silly, silly music scene.

Once I find out how one goes about buying one of their CDs, I will let you know. In the meantime you can check out their music on their Facebook or Myspace pages. It’s well worth it.

Let’s move on.

Stab.Twist.Pull is a heavy, aggressive metal act. Mike Hoogaars provides vocals, which are a growling sort of shout. Scott McCrea is on bass, Russ Bauer on guitar, and Ryan Boyko is on drums. (Fun fact: there is a Canadian actor also named Ryan Boyko who does a lot of random TV, so I spent all of today wondering why in the hell that name was so bloody familiar until I broke and Googled it.)

This band is not about epic riffage; their approach is fast and dirty, each song like a sucker punch to the psyche. The bass-work is very prominent, darkening the sound and making it just evil enough to really get my interest. If you listen to a lot of Poison the Well, you will love these guys.

Mike gives good show. His energy is undeniable, and his range of motion is uncommon. He actually got down off the stage and into the pit, moving through the crowd as he punctuated every line with his hand in the air. The boys behind him were just as into it, restively bouncing around the stage. This is a band that thoroughly enjoys what they do and knows how to live in the space they have. Kind of makes you feel sorry for the drummer, always stuck behind his kit.

I’ve picked up their discography to date, the full-length This Reckless Life and the two EPs (I Want It and Watching the Devils Work). I don’t listen to a lot of hyper-aggressive music, but I did almost wear out my copy of PtW’s Tear From the Red back when I was still listening to my music off of actual CDs. (Ah, the digital era; no longer needing to re-purchase CDs that got scratched to shit from all the times they revolved in cheap-ass portable players.) If you want to get your hands on their stuff, my first suggestion is Sloth Records. (If you have to ask where, I don’t really think you should be going there.)

To hold you over in the meantime, you can head on over to their Facebook or Myspace to learn more or listen to a few examples of their work.

On a personal note, I have to tell you guys: Mike has an awesome hat.

Moving on to the last band and the reason I left the house yesterday. That’s right: Throne of Vengeance. They are, as we speak, heading off on a cross-Canadian tour. But don’t worry, if you’re eager to get your ass down to one of their live shows… They’ll be back August 5 at the Blind Beggar.

Interestingly, This Secret Ninja by AFI was playing in the background music (probably the eighth songs by them that night) while the boys were setting up. It just really didn’t fit the mood.

The band is (for those who didn’t read my last entry including them) Brad Weidlich on guitar, “Red” Riley Cobb on bass, Tommy “Shakes” Holt on vocals and guitar, and Trevor “Animal” Cobb on drums.

Once ToV had themselves set up, they began with a public service announcement. Some poor kid in the audience (and a great deal in the audience couldn’t have been any older than 18) had lost her social insurance, and the band was kind enough to announce it. This was followed by some sarcastic vocal beat-boxing.

I’ve been listening to ToV on a pseudo-regular basis since I last saw them play. It’s always interesting when you see a band live the second time, after you’ve gotten to know their work better. It’s almost shocking how closely the live vocals match to the studio recording. Tommy has a heroic voice. I’ve compared it with M. Shadows (Avenged Sevenfold) and while that is true on one hand, on the other he has more in common with the epic voices of 1980s hard arena rock. And, like the rest of the band, an awesome head of hair.

I am happy to report that everything was mixed properly for this show. The A/V guy actually knew what he was doing, which is something of a novelty at the shows I go to. So the audience were treated to every luscious note of the two guitars, the undercurrent of bass, the drive of the drums.

As before, the boys started the set fairly still. I like to see my musicians getting into their music. As the set stretched on, they loosened up and got more into things. I hope a steady tour helps them with their nerves a bit. I’ll let you know after their August 5 comeback.

If you want some instant gratification, I’m going to send you over to watch ToV’s video for Flesh Engine. If you’re after something a little more lasting, head on over to their official site and grab yourself their merch package. The CD alone is worth it for the cover, which I have entitled Hell’s CEOs. Believe me, you’ll see it when you pick the disc up.

And if you’re from outside of Calgary, you can also check out their tour dates and locations on their site to see if they’re coming your way. There will be a predominant presence in Ottawa, with activities on July 7, 8 and 10.

Now I don’t know about you, but I’ve been staring at a computer screen for hours and it is time to sign off. Have fun with the new music and keep supporting the underground.

Are you a goth? Rivethead? Even just a club-kid who happens to enjoy their clothing in shades of black and neon?

Then I have totally got the band for you. Let me introduce you to Post Death Soundtrack, a Calgary/Vancouver cross-project who opened for one of the all-time greats, Front Line Assembly, just last September. Founded by Steve Moore and Kenneth Buck, they released their first album, Music as Weaponry, in 2008. Since then, they’ve picked up Jon Ireson and Colin Everall for both their live sets (unfortunately few and far between) and in-studio recording.

Ranging in sound from synth-pop to EBM to industrial, with moments of plain old rock ‘n’ roll thrown into the mix, this is a band that has a little bit of everything I love. Tripping rhythms. Decadent bass. An achingly hypnotic vocal assault coming at you from both ranges (Moore is a baritone and Buck is tenor). Bitter, dangerous, intelligent lyrics. Their sound is pure black yet playful, and some of it… Well, I’ll get to that.

There are stirrings of new life on the Post Death front after Steve took an extended break from all his projects (skip on back to read In The Years of Hymns and Prophecies for the why). Their new website has been up for a while now, and they are beginning to fill it with many delicious goodies.

Do you want to catch up on what you’ve been missing and download their debut album? Of course you do. Want to hear remixes and live tracks? Well, who wouldn’t? Looking for eerie, sombre covers? Look no more. Head on down to Post Death Soundtrack’s official site, click on the Listen button and have at ‘er.

The most important thing you will find on that site, though, are the original tracks just waiting for their own little album to call home. Some are b-sides and some are for a late 2011/early 2012 release. You may recognize Our Time is Now and Ultraviolence if you were paying attention to the band in late 2010. There is an official video for Ultraviolence, directed by Jeevin Johal. The video itself is a disturbing mix of Mark Romanek and Quentin Tarantino and the song was inspired by Outside-era David Bowie. You can check that out here. “Oh, you can scream if you want to. Dear child, can you hear the sound?” I mentioned the dangerous lyrics, yes?

A song not on that list is Little Alice, which you can listen to while viewing a cut-together of old Alice in Wonderland movies here. It is the single most lusciously evil song I have ever heard in my life. I practically fell out of my chair the first time I heard it and have been longing for an mp3 of it for over a year now. (Insert a huge, melodramatic sigh here.) And let me tell you…live? Decadence and delicious decay. Luckily, the song is in Jon Ireson’s hands getting its finishing touches before becoming official…please, please sometime soon.

The most recent addition to Post Death’s collection of beautiful, deadly songs is You Can’t Go Back. The reason I am writing today.

It opens with tightly layered vocals over an almost barren soundscape, fleshing out with occasional moody guitar and sustained synths. There is a twitch of wrongness at the edge of the sound that speeds up my pulse, fighting against the soft, resigned words of the verses. “You can never go back once you’ve crossed over. You can’t go back; the system is out of order.” The words are chilling and dangerous until the chorus swells into defiance. “We all throw our hands out…serpents lashing out like…serpents lashing out like…serpents lashing out!”

During the last minute it dissolves into a chaos of wailing and echoes and backwards loops, making my skin crawl. Think 1983. The Cure. Pornography. Only more desperate and terrifying, if that is even possible. So you can go on ahead to Post Death Soundtrack’s official site and download it, or you can cheat and click here.  Right now. And let yourself dissolve into the song.

Deluge are a Calgary-based self-proclaimed “dance grunge” band, and what I hear is a handful of punked-up fun and chaos. Every track is danceable (in the privacy of my own basement, away from prying eyes), and the energy of the album is undeniable.

As of the recording of Flash Fire of the Lungs, the two permanent members of Deluge are David Drebit on lead vocals and guitar, with Kurt Kluba on bass and backing vocals. Drums on this album are provided by Cody Jacobsen. Anthony Janicki makes an appearance on a couple of songs, and Casey Lewis of The Evidence did all the production and tech work as well as providing backing vocals and/or instrumentation on about half the album.

(In case you haven’t noticed a certain theme in some of my reviews, Casey’s is just a name that seems to pop up a lot.)

David’s voice is some unholy cross between Tim Armstrong (Rancid) and Gerard Way (My Chemical Romance). He has Armstrong’s marbles-in-the-mouth pronunciation and Way’s razor edge. As an added bonus, at no point during this album do I feel the urge to punch David repeatedly in the face (as has been known to happen with the other two). The overall production is bare bones, guitar and bass and drums pounding away at breakneck speed. There is a raw quality to the recording that fits the mood perfectly. There is absolutely nothing worse than overproduced punk-edged music. Unlike some (okay, fine, a lot) of the trashier music I listen to, these boys can all even play their instruments. I especially like Kurt’s bass-work, which is not mixed down into obscurity at any point. I would not call any moment of this album musical perfection, but there is a passion to get ‘er done resonating throughout.

Spanning 11 tracks and just over 42 minutes, it’s not your standard punk (yeah, sorry, I just don’t hear the grunge) album. There are a few songs of the less-than-three-minute persuasion, but they’re mostly more fleshed out. The longest, album-closer Church Bells, even exceeds six minutes.

It took me two listens through the album before I started really settling into David’s voice. He is hard to understand, and this is one of those albums I wish came with a lyric book. At about listen ten, I really started picking up (half) of what he was saying. I think I will remain blissfully unaware as to the content of the rest of the lyrics for approximately all time.

I must admit to being curious about the age of the band members…or the age of the songs. A lot of the content seems to be geared around late high school, early college. There’s still angst about jocks and popular kids showing up in I’m Not Impressed, while MK Ultra has the backlash against the expected direction that life is supposed to take in your late teens, early 20s.

The album opens with a slow yet jaunty crawl that makes my inner voice scream “Knucklehead!” in delight, promptly dissolving into the driving beat for the start of the first verse of Don’t Wait. The chorus is call and answer and I find myself singing (nonsense) along to it at the top of my lungs more often than not.

Photoshop is a Girl’s Best Friend sits in about the middle of the album. It’s got a driving bass kick pushing it forward, with content that I think many girls out there need to linger on. “You’ll never like the way you look if everything you see is fake.” About a girl who can’t see her own beauty against the scale set up by modern society. And it’s a would-be love song to boot.

My absolute favourite on the album is Runaway Night. This song is a duet, and I believe it is Anthony Janicki taking the primary vocals. Fun fact? He sounds almost exactly like Greg Graffin (Bad Religion). This song is an immediate flash of almost painful nostalgia. Not only does Anthony sound so much like Greg, the song itself feels like it’s by Bad Religion. I do not listen to nearly as much by that band as I did when I was younger, which is why this song comes with such a fierce hit to my psyche. The counterpoint of Anthony’s and David’s voices is wonderful, that dusky gravel against that sharp burst. There’s even a “whoah-oah” chorus. I am in absolute love with this song.

So if you want to go out and get yourself a copy of Flash Fire of the Lungs, it is surprisingly available more or less anywhere digital music is sold. iTunes? Check. Emusic? Check. HMV Digital? Check. If you want to get yourself a physical copy (and the zombie children! You want the zombie children!), that could be a bit more complicated. You can e-mail the band and work something out, or message them on their Facebook site. Because you want the zombie children. So enjoy this little slice of mayhem, and remember to support your local scene.