It’s not an everyday lullaby for me to leave my hovel, but cool breezes and influenza sneezes made it so this 4/20 was a most outlandish adventure. The time is now but then was then, cozy and supreme like a poutine taco ,I wrapped my bod’ and hit the sod. The Tannery was a flattering example of synchronized grease on a pavement grill. Walking through the doors at Dolans Pub has only ever caused me extreme nostalgia of my days as a young lad and with my witty, gritty but kinda pretty attitude, I wasn’t sure if I’d walk out of there alive, but on that 20th day of the 4th month, Year of our Lemmy 2016, things were different and I felt like I had never lived before. I went for the music and some cheap chicken wings, but little did I know I would find new ways to grow wings of my own.
The sound check was in full swing and the loveable lovely’s at the door swept my cover fee and gave me a hug with their eyes alone. The tables were set and the auction was on. I always preferred silent auctions because it really gave me a chance to cry someone else’s tears. If there is one thing on this moldy sandwich we call earth that touches my soul more than music, it’s art. And with our friends at Marijuana for Trauma Inc. standing by to answer any questions or just lend a smile, you immediately felt like you were a part of something much greater, something charitable and pure. Organic alternatives to sludge and symptoms, our creator, whether it be nature, God or Dio himself, gave us those plants as a gift and gave us the will to seek them out.
So before we get too far off topic or let the munchies set in…wait…what were we talking about?….ohhh yaaa, the real smoke of the evening….THE MUSIC. First off, Luke and the Drifters set the pace and wiped the stage clean with their tempo-pedic rock mattress of a set list. I’d love to carry on wayward son and get all the juicy bits on what makes those laddy’s one of my new favorite bands but I want to save the good grease for an exclusive article ( coming soon and coming hard). Now, a quick smoke break and a spot of tea and we were all back on our perches for lurches and metal churches with pews of double layered jolly jumpers and local hero’s Monteith. It was a night of lovers and covers of covers but if there is one thing I love it’s a rendition of submission gone over and done like beauticians. Shaun and the boys brought everything from there customized Van Halen cover set to some seriously sexed up “ Kissco”. I was made for loving who? Fast hand Chad Provost, THAT’S WHO! He sat, almost blind from the wind coming from his own wrists and didn’t even crack a smile behind his skins and rims, with ultimate concentration and annihilation of his percussion station.
Daniel Monteith was on a level ready to dissolve into little bitties as this “Dazed and Confused” heartthrob backed the wild thang party gang and after a while I thought I was teleported to a “Dan Halen” electric sailin’, “ don’t come a’ knockin’ when Shaun be a wailin’ “ festival. The wood on Daniels axe was almost carved into a masterful Mount Rushmore creation by the time they wrapped up their set. The actual Mount Rushmore probably moves more but undoubtedly rocks less than bass player Corey Tasse, even with the winds of change flowing from Chads sticks. During their cover of ZZ Tops “ Gimme all your lovin” ( which enduced a small Chris Farley themed Beverly Hills Ninja strip tease that I did on the support beam of my table) Corey still remained in his John Entwisle-esque cement shoe posture. This guy is something to be reckoned with. His eyes were haunting and deep from behind the cloud of smoke rising from his guitar and scanning the crowd from a different angle through each strand of his hair. He could have shaken the Temples of Syrinx with that opening bass line.
Now, this creature does not need an introduction, if you don’t already know Shaun and his on/off stage shenanigans then smoke the rock you’ve been hiding under because he’ll find you and if he finds you, it’s already too late. Giving a shout out to “Heavier than thou” riff rider Josh Pharrel for his sickly sweet licks that could smash the lips of bricks with ticks, Shaun gave us his signature “ Growl Howl” and continued on to steal the heart of every being in the Pub. Shauns wardrobe alone would steal the show and bring groupies from every corner of the realm. Ripping the wings off of the Iron Butterfly with heavy heat and love stained sheets. Sugar and Spice and everything DICE!!!!
I’ve had a chance to talk to a few members of this next group but I’ve lost sleep thinking about all they have to offer. Panda Bee Catastrophe was the final act of the “screaving” and my legs are still shaking after they puff puff passed away into a riverboat fantasy and took me along for the ride. Keyboard virtuoso, Fraser Murray kept to the bands signature style and rocked the “ Oliver Twisted” look. Knocking Knuckles and pounding some serious synth had me asking “Please, sir. Can I have some more.” Directly on his wing Greg Perry on Guitar and back up vocals stayed with his roots and rocked as this “ Johnny Bravo/ Patrick Swayze mash up” brooded and blundered and softly plundered each of his 6 strings and made love to every note he produced.
I wish I could be boring and say Drummer Alex Daigle was just a normal beater but he is far and few. Despite a speedy symbol malfunction, he never lost composure and the buzz of his snare resembled a locomotive engine truffling over the hills and far away. Rumble and bumble and bar tender send me over a double…double dose that is, of this long haired statue in the back braces and mystical places, Andrew Flynn let the music do the talking as he spanked that bass guitar, holding on loosely but never letting up. Relaxed fit neck tie, don’t ruin the surprise, we all know where the red tongue goes.
Piping up for some back up vocals of his own, Brian Olsen, the lead beard and the lead guitar, had his own minute to steal my breath during their Dropkick Murphy’s cover, and kept the soothing shrill of the 6 string chill with a fedora tilted with severity on his head to try and contain his explosive mind and that’s probably where he keeps his spare set of fingers. There is no way he can play that mean and clean with mortal hands.
SARAH!!!! Oh my sweet,sweet Sarah. She is the epitome of class in a whirlwind of sass and has the will to humble even the most pedantic of sinners. Sarah McAdam, frederictons version of Grace Slick was the center of the stage both figuratively and metaphorically. Her vocals range from Deloris O’Riordan, to the low hush whiskey whisper of Janis Joplin. It’s a baritone bake sale, and I am FAMISHED.
Every band, fan , stand and gland in the joint was an essential piece to this freshly dried and busted up evening. Rolling each minute into its own personalized community session. Even our own, Jason Bizzar was equipped and dancing color to colour and dreams to reality as his dreads coagulated like a family of steam punk octopi in the corner of the center stage. It really gives me hope when I see people of difference coming together for a common purpose. “ you may say I’m a dreamer but I’m not the only one.” Once again, a flick of the tip to you all.
The guy on the couch,