Tuesday, June 28, 2005

I'M with the band

So my kid is in a band called The Falling Pianos out of Calgary, Alberta. They practice in the basement of the house and they have some good tunes that have catchy melody and the word fuck strewn about in such a manner that his mother can't pick up on too many.

My son is the drummer. There is a bassist-singer and a lead guitar who both read Marx and Lenin. My son is more like me. There just aren't enough pictures in those books so he watches the occasional Marx bros movie and listens to Lennon. I pop into the room one night and say "hey dudes, them is some down right toe tapping tunes, why don't you record them in one of the local studios". They stare at me with gazes that make me check for this second head that appears to be on my shoulders. "Dad, That costs money". So dad rips of his shirt revealing the large red S with the two vertical lines and is promptly hoisted on the shoulders of the overjoyed punk rockers.

Some time later the CD comes out and it sounds great and it looks even greater with me heading the "thanks to" list on the back.

MONTHS pass I have now moved the taco stand to Vancouver and the boys are itching to take the show on the road. They've added more tunes to their rePEEtwar that have an Irish slant on them and the bass player is multi tasking with a tin whistle.

They're booked into a high class place in Vancouver called the Cobalt and their name is printed on the ad in the Georgia Straights. HOLY SHIT they've hit the big time!! All of their equipment fits into the van because some years ago hoping for just this very day I bought the GRAND voyager with 13 more inches than the standard voyager that the trailer trash buys. Off we go down to the Cobalt which is easy to spot with all the search lights, limos and blimp circling above. We blow into the place like victorious heroes and proudly plant Falling Piano stickers in several places. Proud dad tags the condom machine in the men's room.

The boys play a great set to the glee of the standing room crowd of six but what is more important is that the lady who booked them is very impressed and wants them to email her when the return so she can put them with a more attractive show. CHAMPAGNE for everyone!! Everyone except the rats running through the parking lot of the Cobalt.

They're booked into a top notch venue in Seattle in a couple of days so that gives me time to take them down to Redmond to pay respects to Jimi and ask for his blessing. We stop by to say hello to Bruce and Brandon Lee as well.

SEATTLE!! Sacred groud to young musicians such as these lads. INTERNATIONAL sensations are now the Falling Pianos. We find the place real early and I give it my thumbs up because the gal tending the bar has the MOST INCREDIBLE CLEAVAGE. I can tell this place is the hot shit because of the old black and white bondage spanking movie being played on the big screen TV over the space-on-the-floor-without-tables-stage. The lads go on 4th of 4 bands. We're fucking HEADLINERS. They played a great set to about 20 while dad stared at the cleavage behind the bar. Each of the three bands before were pretty good but couldn't go without kicking over the pitcher of beer provided by this place. The boys don't get any beer and dad is happy that they didn't slip on the leavings of the other rockers.

What is WAY COOL is that they run into a couple of guys who liked their set and offer opportunity to play other venues. So we toss all the stuff into the van and the boys are being chatted up in the parking lot. A black man comes over and tells them he dug their show and asks what the little flute is called. The bass player tells him it's a tin whistle to which he replies "that shit is GANGSTA".

This one guy is on his cell lining up another place to play TONITE and the other guy "will be right back" because he went off to "smoke a bowl" with my beloved cleavage. So we head off to parts unknown following cell phone man to play a house near downtown that is the venue to "shows" every weekend. We show up and are told that we go on right after the hip hop act working through it's set. The place is old two story jammed inside and out with silly cell phone jammering white kids. "We're outside. Are you still inside? Come out, so and so has to go and this cute guy is out here".

The hip hop group finishes and it takes us about an hour to get all the stuff inside and the sound man 20 minutes to get it all hooked up and off the lads go on their blistering set for the 15 people who stayed patiently to get the double bill action. What was cool about THIS show is that some people want to buy the CD AND want the boys to sign them. Dad meets and has excellent conversation with a beautiful very-out-of-place-for-this-crowd woman in the parking lot.

Connections are made and the future looks bright for the boys who dream of tour busses and groupies as dad drives the Pianos back up to Vancouver. They'll be back in Vancouver in September.

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