Backtrax, Boys in blue, & Demon Barf!

Slow Poke was still a two man band as our search continued for a bass player. We even went as far as to place a classified advertisement in Now magazine, a free weekly newspaper in Toronto. Needless to say we encountered some interesting characters, but nobody we felt fit the part. If both Derek and I didn't feel this was the right man for the job, we passed on them. Once in awhile I'd like someone and he wouldn't or vice versa, so it ended up being quite the event. Eventually we met an older guy named Sted. He was rough around the edges like us, and even wore a dreadlock necklace made from his girlfriends hair. Sted looked like he walked the line of being a punk rocker and a hippy. I suppose you could say he had the "grunge" look. So on forward we went with Sted, showing him our songs.

Meanwhile in Brampton, my graduation was rapidly approaching, and there were parties a plenty. There was also a club that opened up in Bramalea called "Backtrax" or "Backtracks" that was hosting live music and a club scene for punks and alternative people. Word on the street was you could easily get served alcohol there underage as well. When the boys and I caught wind that the Epileptic Brain Surgeons were going to be performing there, we knew we had to go check it out.

It ended up just being Jerry and myself that went if I recall correctly, but we were meeting friends there. We decided to take the bus, and ended up on the wrong one, so we got off at Avondale plaza which wasn't to far from the club. During our walk we stopped under an overpass and smoked the pot we had on us, then proceeded on our way. Minutes from the club, peel regions finest police drove by us and halted to a stop. They quickly jumped out of the car and gave us the business. Where we were coming from, where we were going, we match the description of two guys they are looking for etc. etc. 

The next thing I know we are being searched at the side of the road. One of the officers found a smoking pipe on my person, and within minutes we were practically standing out in public at the side of the road with our pants around our ankles. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, we were then instructed to get in the back of the car, where they had us pull our underwear down to make sure we weren't carrying anything. I had never felt more humiliated and violated in my entire life. We were clean and the cops sent us on our way eventually after taking all of our information down.

We finally got to the club and made it in without further incident. We attempted to order beer and to our amazement we got served without question! Even though it was an all ages club, it was apparent being of age didn't matter when it came to buying a drink. We sat down in a sigh of relief at the front of the club close to the band. I just about shit ten bricks when I realized the opening band was those guys who were at ever E.B.S. show, my rivals from Chinguacousy school. The guys who I despised even though I didn't have a reason too....Demon Barf! I decided given the events of the night that I would actually pay them an honest listen, and much to my disbelief they actually won me over. I had a new found respect for these guys. 

Just as things were getting good I noticed a commotion at the other end of the club. I looked over and my jaw dropped when I saw the same two police officers who had stopped us a mere 30 minutes ago. They were stalking their way through the club specifically looking for people who were drinking and asking to see their I.D. In a panic I let my friends know what was going on, and we all chugged our drinks down in synchronization, then dumped our empty bottles on the floor under the table. We managed to escape persecution, and the boys in blue were on their merry way. 

Eventually E.B.S. took the stage, and to be quite honest I barely remember it due to the circumstances of the evening. Regardless, the Brampton band known as Demon Barf now had a few more fans...

Scumdogs of the Universe

It felt like the final year of high school was passing by quicker than any of the previous years, and I had yet to attend a concert in 1991. That all changed in the late spring when "Gwar" decided to return to Toronto for their second ever performance. After what Mike Myre had told me about (their first show) there was no way I was going to miss Gwar this time. They were on tour to support their second full length release "Scumdogs of the universe" Looking back at this exact moment as I write, one can only wonder if that album title is a play on Black Sabbath's "Symptom of the universe" Never the less, I got two tickets for the show, one for myself and one for my trusted chauffeur and best friend Jerry. 

By now it was well known that if you went to see Gwar, you wore white. This is still an unwritten metal rule. One knows they will be covered in blood shall they dare and brave the pit, so wearing white ensures you will have a free souvenir for afterwards. I clearly remember wearing my "Team Alva" shirt, as it was the only white shirt I think I owned at the time. We headed to the concert hall a.k.a. The Masonic temple, and we were anxious for the madness to ensue. 

When the lights finally went out and the curtain raised, there was a brick wall across the stage. In front of the wall, a group of picketers with signs that read such things as "down with Gwar" we're protesting the group. Two familiar faces in that crowd of picketers were Michael Jackson & Bart Simpson. The picketers were soon joined by the then president of the United States, George Bush sr., who came forth with a speech for all of us in the crowd about the evils of Gwar and the music associated with them. Midway through the speech the brick wall crumbled down as Gwar bust through it. They slaughtered all the picketers, ripped the presidents face off, then jumped into the first song.

Admittedly, I didn't know much of Gwar's music asides from the handful of songs thrown on a mixtape Myre made for me the previous year, but it didn't really matter. These guys were so entertaining that the music was almost secondary. You could go watch them perform having never heard one song and you'd still be in for the show of your life. I later learned that Gwar's lyrics told the story to each song, and each album was themed and in turn played through like a story. So if you actually knew the lyrics it was easier to follow the visual part of the performance while making sense of it all, but that didn't matter to me on this particular night.

It was surreal sweating it out in that over populated mosh pit, seeing the people around me and myself included, getting covered in blood, urine, and semen, all of which was simulated and fabricated by the band. Gwar also had a large video screen that would air segments and skits between songs that helped tie the story together. Meanwhile innocents were being slaughtered on stage left right and centre. At one point the band brought a giant meat grinder on stage and they looked to the crowd for "sacrifices" Fans would get on stage, get clobbered on the head with a prop weapon, and then get dumped into the meat grinder, which sprayed strong streams of blood into the crowd. It was so hot in the building that the paint was actually peeling off the walls.

For years after I would spread the good word of Gwar, insisting to anyone that they should go see them perform live if ever given the chance, as it would be the greatest rock and roll spectacle one could ever witness. Even if you didn't like their music I would still strongly urge you to see them perform live. To me Gwar was the new Kiss. Musically they weren't that great, but the magic, mystery and madness they brought to the table made them a special entity in the history of music.

While in the pit, Jerry ended up loosing one of his shoes. We waited for the building to clear out afterwards so he could find his shoe, which surprisingly to us was quite a feat once we saw the HUGE pile of shoes in the centre of the floor. He found a near match and we called it a night. When the insanity ended, it was incredible seeing the looks on the faces of the general public, as thousands of blood soaked punkers and thrashers made their way down Yonge street. It was a magical thing, and I couldn't wait to do it the next time Gwar came to town...

Roll Call

One thing I was starting to notice was the fact that I was spending less time in Brampton, and in turn spending less time with my friends. It seemed like I was always in Toronto now doing the band thing, but I was also making a whole new world of friends. The Brampton crew had grown to large proportions, and the gang was still getting together at Dove's place regularly. Our numbers had shockingly grown, which could be part of the reason people never messed with us. 

By grad time here's how roll call was looking: there was myself, Dove, Noel, Spicoli, Gooch, Pugsley, James, Chunk, Jerry, Lance Romance, Foxy Bano, Reeves, McKean, Poloniato, Wild Wes, Pat "Norm", Marco, Cummer, McCuish, Chapman, Ronnie, Sanker, Gary, and Stinky.... Just to name a few. As you can probably tell by now, most of these guys had been donned with a nickname. On top of that initial crew of guys, there were other friends as we'll due to the six degrees of separation rule. Realistically though, all of us had "other" friends, so it wasn't uncommon to have 30-50 of us rolling together to parties, etc.

Meanwhile on the school front, co op was going nicely, and my final year of high school was passing my by in a flash. I started thinking about that and I got a bit sad, then I remembered how I hated most of the people here. I also remembered how there was nothing left here for me except my diploma, the official license to send me off into the "real world". Who was I kidding? I hated school. I'd be more than happy to never step foot in one again. I still felt like I was going to miss the social aspects of school, but again I reminded myself of how all my friends had moved on from here, so there was no social life left to be had here.

Myself, Mike & Mike, had been continuing our "jams" at Chapman's, as well as our lyrical ciphers. What started out as 3 white teenagers imitating the Beastie Boys, was slowly becoming what I proudly consider the first rap group from Brampton. Now there may have been other people rapping, but as far as I know nobody was doing shit! No demo tapes were dropping and no shows we're being put on. If we weren't the first I think it would be safe to say we were the first "white" dudes in Brampton to form a rap group.

Across town in Toronto, Derek and I were still working on Slow Poke. We had our handful of songs, we were still jamming them religiously, and we were STILL searching for a bass player....religiously....

Wupdates

It feels like it's been forever since I posted a blog entry, as I've had quite a lot going on lately preventing me from doing such. It has been a bit frustrating getting into this section of the story and having to put it on pause. The story of slow poke, in my opinion, is where my musical ventures stared to get very interesting. I look forward to sharing this portion of my life you, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Speaking of musical ventures, part of the reason my writing got stunted last week was due to the fact I was working on a new song entitled "Whatever happened?" Musically it is my take on what's happening in hop hop today production wise. Lyrically I ask the question of whatever happened to rap music? When did all the fun and creativity get sucked out of it? In my quest for knowledge, I never really answered my own question. Or did I? You can judge for yourself. It was nice taking a break from the Street Trash project and getting back to work on my solo material.

http://kabal.bandcamp.com/track/whatever-happened-rap-like-this

Last week another big happening was the 20th anniversary of the Wu Tang Clan's debut album "Enter the 36th Chambers" and to commemorate the event Wu Tang is touring. They happened to play Toronto last week and I was fortunate enough to attend the event. Wu were fired up and put on a high energy show, but the sound mans lack of abilities didn't do justice to their sound. I was also highly disappointed at the absence of the RZA, the man responsible for forming the clan. RZA is also the one who produced all of their beats and music. The fact they didn't even acknowledge his absence baffled me. It was nice however to finally see the Wu live after all these years.

On a personal level I've been spending quality time with my son whenever given the chance, and you can find me playing GTA V online most nights. That game I tell ya...

Once again I appreciate your supper and patience, now on with the story...again...

Slow pokes

Since "Heshien" turned out so well, we continued using the same collaborative song writing techniques for the next few months. Myself arranging riffs of Derek's, composing songs from them, and then going through his "poetry" with him to piece lyrics together. I can't remember exactly how long it took us, but it felt like we had a handful of songs in no time. Our band "Slow Poke" now had enough to record a demo. Our new songs were "Underfed", "Neptune", "Torpedo", & "Born Loser". Each song had it's own uniqueness to it, while still preserving the overall style and sound we were forming, which I was still unsure of how to classify by genre. I guess essentially Derek wanted us to be a grunge band, on the cusp of this new unheard of sound. To describe our music, the riffs were slower, sloppy, loose-groove type riffs, that felt good and made you wanna nod your head, similar to say... Black Sabbath's "Sweet Leaf".

Another head nod factor was also the beats I provided. Being a long time fan of rap music, I wanted to add my own element to this new sound we were giving birth to, so naturally most of the beats I provided were directly from classic rap songs. Playing these beats on the drums however in a more aggressive manner gave a completely different dynamic to them. Majority of the beats I "jacked" were from Beastie Boys songs, as they were my all time favourite band at the time & still are to this day. The fusion of these chunky guitar riffs & dope beats definitely brought something magical to the table. Although we now had songs & lyrics, we still had two roadblocks ahead of us.

As I mentioned before, Derek's guitar playing was very "elementary" at best, but the first time I hear him sing I was absolutely mortified. I was digging the songs we were making, but vocally our visions were a bit different. D's voice was somewhat whiny, crackly, and not even close to being in tune. When he sang, or screamed rather, during the heavier parts, he sounded great, but his actual "singing" made me shudder. I never mentioned this and decided to look past it, as this band was more so his vision even though I had taken the reigns as far as our song writing was concerned. Over time his voice developed & matured with each song, and eventually I actually started to like it. It worked well with the music & he had range, despite still being out of tune sometimes....but hey, the guy had NO training whatsoever, and like I said previously, he had heart, the most important quality next to talent.

Derek was attending S.E.E.D., an alternative school in Toronto, and now I was spending time there quite often as well, meanwhile I was still enrolled at my own high school and was still partaking in the co-op program. My days at the animation studio were now spent working on art, band related art, and I was now getting into writing "poetry", which was inspired by Derek. My "poetry" soon turned into writing "raps" naturally. The Mondays I was at my own high school, I'd be happy to spend time with "Iceman" and catch up with my fellow classmates and hear about their co-op experiences. One fellow wanted to be a detective, so I coaxed him into xeroxing me crime scene photos from the books at the police station. I'd also get to see Mike Myers, but I was hanging out with him & Mike Chapman a lot late nights now after my days in Toronto with Derek. D would usually drive me home in the evening, then go spend time with his girlfriend. After she went to sleep, he would return to pick me up & we'd meet up with Mike & Mike for a late night hang.

The nights Derek didn't make it out, Michael, Michael & "Kevin Michael" (Michael is my middle name) would still get together to hang out. We had now graduated from reciting Beastie Boys songs to trying our hand at our own rhymes, which were unconventional, under-developed, but thoroughly enjoyable. This was also planting seeds in our minds to try and start our very own rap band, something Derek didn't seem to thrilled about the first time I mentioned it to him. He knew I loved rap music above all els,e so I guess he figured I'd quit the band if it actually developed into anything. I was totally down for double duty, but I looked at it like both bands were just for fun. I really had no other expectations from these musical ventures except having fun with my friends.

Slow Poke wasn't even officially a band yet regardless. We were a guitarist/singer and a drummer with 5 or 6 songs and no bass player.The other major roadblock we were still dealing with...

Song Writing 101

As Derek and I had our first jam at the new rehearsal spot, things felt good, but we needed to make a new song! It didn't take me long to realize that as

much as Derek enjoyed music, he didn't know shit about song writing! I asked him to play me some riffs that he had, and he obliged, squealing out some noisy, blistering riffs. After giving me a handful of riffs, I told him which two I liked the best, which were coincidentally the two riffs I felt would work best together for a verse/chorus idea. 

We hopped on the instruments and jammed those two riffs for 8 bars each back and forth for what felt like forever. Once I had figured my beats out, we were playing quite tight, and things were sounding good. The song now needed a bit more structure. As it stood we would come in with the chorus as an intro, from there we would use the verse/chorus recipe twice. Now we stood at a point in the song where we needed a solo. 

Derek was a piss poor guitarist, but the guy had heart, ambition, and the drive to succeed. He was also into a new type of underground music called "Grunge" that the world hadn't heard of yet, and this genre had moulded his mind to believe guitar solos were passé, or a thing of the past, and Derek was absolutely against them. Especially the seriously intricate wanky guitar solos often associated with heavy music. Being raised on metal, this was a hard pill for me to swallow, so we opted to have a "noise part" instead of a solo, which consisted of D thrashing himself about the floor like a child throwing a temper tantrum, his guitar screaming with intense noise and feedback like a cat being burned alive. 

I wasn't quite sure how to bring the chaotic-ness of the noise part back into the third and final verse, so I borrowed a bit of help from Slayer's song "Raining Blood" in particular the breakdown hits towards the end of the composition. These hits gave us a good buildup to flow back into our third verse/chorus combo. Now all we needed was an ending, so once again I borrowed from another band, Corrosion of Conformity, who in my opinion were the masters of the "breakdown" If you are unfamiliar with what a breakdown is, please visit google or Wikipedia, although I think it's fairly self explanatory. 

So for our breakdown on this particular song, we took the chorus and played it in half time, meaning it was half the speed we played it during the song. This created a nice, slow, heavy groove for us to bring the song to a close. We played the breakdown for four bars, each one slightly slower than the previous, the final one almost at a crawling tempo. We ended up adding an intro that was inspired from the beginning of the song "High Plains Drifter" by the Beastie Boys, and we also used a smidgen of it after the breakdown to have the song end abruptly. Our song was done and I had virtually composed the entire thing with the exception of the riffs Derek brought to the table. From here we needed some lyrics, so we started going through Derek's "poetry" writings, and again we cut and pasted some choice stuff together in a collaboration that resulted in us having lyrics for our song. 

We decided to call the song "Heshien" in ode to one of D's friends who lived out in Los Angeles, his name was Gerrard, and  heshien was the word him and his friends used to describe a long haired stoner. Perfect we thought. So we now officially had two songs "Rugburn" and "Heshien" we also had a band name now that Derek had come up with which was "Slow Poke" although that would later change. I could only wonder what was to come next...

"HESHIEN" demo version. STREAM/DOWNLOAD FREE

A mere two years later, performing "Heshien" @HMV Superstore, Toronto Canada

Boot the Bassist

Having to kick someone out of a band is never a simple task, and this was the first time in my life I had been faced with the challenge to do just that. I put it right up there on the same level as breaking up with your significant other. What made it even more awkward on this occasion, was the fact that we jammed with Tyler earlier that fateful evening. Once we dropped him off afterwards we decided to break the news to him, and he did not take it well. 

Essentially, we explained that our visions of the bands direction differed from each other, but the truth of the matter was Tyler was just an angry young man we cared to deal with no more. I myself was battling through my own personal anger issues, meanwhile Derek was very laid back, so throwing Tyler in the mix was not healthy for either of us. We had also questioned wether Tyler was racist, as we had heard a few questionable things pass through his lips before, which made Derek uncomfortable considering his girlfriend was a black Jew.

I also remember Tyler suggesting we change the title of our one song "Rug burn" to "Love burn" an idea Derek absolutely loathed. Although a lot of lyrics Derek wrote were about girls and love, he felt the word "love" itself had no place in lyrics or song titles. Looking back at the situation now and how things unfolded, I almost question if Derek disposed of Tyler because he was opinionated, because as time passed it became clearer and clearer to me who the captain of the ship was. The shot caller, the control freak if you will....every band needs one, and this band was Derek's baby. 

So now here we were, a two man band again. One green guitarist and a mediocre drummer. It felt like we were right back to square one again with this "band" Not long after giving Tyler the boot, Derek informed me that we could now jam at his girlfriends parents house in their basement. This was good news because it meant we had a "jam space" so we would not have to cart our gear back and forth from Brampton to Toronto each rehearsal.  I'll never forget how excited we were getting the room all "pimped out" to our likings. We even set the mood with incense and candles as well as some inspiring decorative art. 

Derek strapped on his axe, I jumped behind my drum kit, and it was time to jam! After playing our usual "rug burn" loop for 15-30 minutes, I couldn't take it anymore. I angrily declared:

"We need a new fucking song dude!"