Sadly, we're back on the Trans Canada Highway. And for the first time this tour, we're heading west. However, there are some stories to be told.
St. Johns was honestly a fucking blast, and I really mean it because I use my cusses somewhat selectively in my writing. Everything, from start to finish, was straight up fun.
I should first mention a funny story. Somewhere during the drive from Corner Brook to St. Johns, we were listening to the local 103.9 radio station. Turns out it was all-request-hour. I semi-jokingly told Dan to call in with a request. After some slight hesitation, the call was made. We weren't exactly sure how popular this request station was and if our call would ever be heard, but oh was it ever.
103.9: "This next request is quite interesting, give it a listen"
DP: "Hey there this is Danny from the band Hue. Me and the boys are just here from Toronto playing some shows and we'd love to hear some Boney M: Rapsutin."
103.9: "That is the best request ever"
Dan and I used to listen to Rasputin for hours in high school, so naturally we chose that song over even more Steve Miller Band. We recorded a small snippet of their conversation, which is just hilarious. I'll see if I can post it one day. It turns out that the same Boney M album was the stations Dj's first album. Needless to say, they played our request and we banged heads to the theme of Russia's greatest love machine.
Upon our arrival, we checked into a fantastic hostel. Everyone working there were overly hospitable. The owner, Dave, was a super cheery guy, and ran one hell of a unit. This particular hostel had a few interesting perks: every bed included a towel (which is unheard of in the hosteling world - usually it's either you bring your own, or plan out your drip-dry session), was located directly downtown, and each room had a (full) beer fridge. Wicked. Good hostels are hard to come by.
One thing that went really well on this trip was the Screech. I set fairly high expectations for this occasion, seeing as I was underaged my last visit to Newfoundland and couldn't drink the rum. We rolled up to a liquor store downtown in hopes of finding some Screech (the rum itself). One of the employees asked if we were from out of town (Darce thought we were about to get I.D'd), and if we wanted to participate in a Screeching ceremony downstairs. Hells yes miss, we do. The three of us ventured downstairs to a cellar filled with memorabilia, liquor, and old people. Looked about right. We were greeted by Buela, the host of the event, who confessed to be from the year 1892. Proper!
The whole process was there: the background of the liquor (Screech apparently came from the sound American settlers would make when drinking it), the kissing of the cod (except ours was unfortunately made from wood), the pre-liquor phrase, and then the rum itself (which ain't half bad - if you're at 26.5 this summer, you may just get a taste). We regrettably didn't have a camera on us, because we weren't planning on taking picture of ourselves buying booze. Oh well. At least we got certificates. Mine was signed "Eastwood".
I should mention we forfeited two shows in St. Johns. The venue simply was never meant to be played in. No microphones, no rugs, no place to watch from, no place to play, no P.A. system. Just people sitting and eating. We didn't even introduce ourselves to the staff. We just ate panini and got the fuck out of there.
We were hungry for shows. Buela told us to check out a place called CBTG's. And check we did. We went out that night to check out the venue. For those of you who know your Toronto, it was almost exactly like the upstairs of Sneaky Dee's, except totally backwards. Everything from the grungy floors to the tiny wooden stage, that is always on the brink of giving way. The bathrooms were barely there. Wood panelling separated the boys room from the girls, and there were holes in pretty much everything that could have holes in it.
Aside from us talking to the staff about playing the next night, I remember drunkenly chewing poor sober-Danny's ear off about how much flavor St. Johns has, which is true. For those of you who don't know (and I didn't either), St. Johns is the oldest English city in North America. The residents have their own very distinct dialect which, at times, is almost inaudible to the ears. The harbors are littered with fishing boats that just wreak of authenticity. The canons of Signal Hill actually sunk invading ships back in the day, and there are enough original Newfy sing-alongs to put a Christian songbook to shame. There's seriously flavor in that city. Ask anyone who lives there.
That night, Dan met one of the performers of the night. His name was Thom Coombes. Dan mentioned that we were a touring band from Ontario and Thom graciously asked if we needed a place for tomorrow night. Considering the hostel was costing us over a hundred dollars a night, we gladly excepted. That's called Eastern hospitality. When was the last time you invited three strangers into your house after only a minute of conversation? Me neither.
After a few calls were made on our behalf to CBTG's, we had ourselves a show the next night. Beauty.
The day of the show we trekked up to Signal Hill. What a great day. The three of us spent a few hours on the hill simply enjoying the sights. On one side you have the entire St. Johns landscape and harbor. On the other you have an uninterrupted view of the ocean. I won't go on about how auspicious the sight of the ocean really is, because you really have to sit there for yourself and marvel at it's massiveness. I decided to go for a hike down some of the parks trails. After ascending to the coast, my curiosity lead me down another path - one that I would soon regret. What I ended doing was partaking in a "Coastal Walk", except backwards. I walked for so long that I went all the way from the foot of the ocean to some scuzzy place called the Battery Hotel and Lodgings. I called the boys, warning them that I had no idea where I was, or where I'd end up. Ten minutes later I called from the side of some road for a ride. My feet took the brunt of the hike. Stan 2's were never meant to scale coastline the way I did. Let's just say there's a good reason why my big toe is still wrapped in napkins and electrical tape.
Later that night we played our set at CB's. Fun show. Really hot, really tight, and loud as hell. Just the way I like my pants. Met some really cool people and had a lot of fun times.
Afterwards we went back to Thom's place, which also coincidentally held the number 26 address. I can't really put into words how much fun that night was. Amongst Thom was his hilarious housemates Bart, Megan, Dave, and Danielle. Their house was an expressive junction of creativity, imagination, and clutter, aside from being incredibly cheap to live in. I think I shot an entire roll of film that night documenting all the rooms. The majority of the night was spent in their living room bouncing between beers, laughter, rolling joints, stories, spinning records, smoking cigarettes, and general tomfoolery. Everyone living in that house had their own special brand of comedic genius, which mostly revolved around a "nothing to hide" mentality. Right around the time the sun came up (which was monumental because we were one of the first in the Western Hemisphere to see it), we headed to the nearest gas station for chips and beef jerky. My body was literally crying the next day from the amount of sodium coming from eating a bag of Scream Cheese Doritoes.
We woke up the next day around 3pm to go for a pleasure cruise. We found ourselves a nice little spot by the ocean to skip rocks and accidentally get soakers. After that we went back up to Signal Hill to sit in the van, listen to records, and stare at the ocean. There wasn't really another option for our last day in that city.
Afterwards we set up around 11pm for our next show at CBTG's, which is an unheard of time set up for a show in Ontario, but the bars do serve licka until 3am here, so the shows go on, and on. However, aside from some technical difficulties, we pulled together a solid show. Again, cool people, fun times, and lots of flavor.
We're now heading back to Corner Brook. We're playing our second show at Dooly's tonight, which should be interesting, because we're performing right before UFC 100 airs, which can mean one of two things: Either the people there to see the fight (which means everyone in the bar) will get really hyped up before the fight by listening to some rock, or I'll catch another bottle in the chest - except this time it'll be on purpose.
St. Johns was honestly a fucking blast, and I really mean it because I use my cusses somewhat selectively in my writing. Everything, from start to finish, was straight up fun.
I should first mention a funny story. Somewhere during the drive from Corner Brook to St. Johns, we were listening to the local 103.9 radio station. Turns out it was all-request-hour. I semi-jokingly told Dan to call in with a request. After some slight hesitation, the call was made. We weren't exactly sure how popular this request station was and if our call would ever be heard, but oh was it ever.
103.9: "This next request is quite interesting, give it a listen"
DP: "Hey there this is Danny from the band Hue. Me and the boys are just here from Toronto playing some shows and we'd love to hear some Boney M: Rapsutin."
103.9: "That is the best request ever"
Dan and I used to listen to Rasputin for hours in high school, so naturally we chose that song over even more Steve Miller Band. We recorded a small snippet of their conversation, which is just hilarious. I'll see if I can post it one day. It turns out that the same Boney M album was the stations Dj's first album. Needless to say, they played our request and we banged heads to the theme of Russia's greatest love machine.
Upon our arrival, we checked into a fantastic hostel. Everyone working there were overly hospitable. The owner, Dave, was a super cheery guy, and ran one hell of a unit. This particular hostel had a few interesting perks: every bed included a towel (which is unheard of in the hosteling world - usually it's either you bring your own, or plan out your drip-dry session), was located directly downtown, and each room had a (full) beer fridge. Wicked. Good hostels are hard to come by.
One thing that went really well on this trip was the Screech. I set fairly high expectations for this occasion, seeing as I was underaged my last visit to Newfoundland and couldn't drink the rum. We rolled up to a liquor store downtown in hopes of finding some Screech (the rum itself). One of the employees asked if we were from out of town (Darce thought we were about to get I.D'd), and if we wanted to participate in a Screeching ceremony downstairs. Hells yes miss, we do. The three of us ventured downstairs to a cellar filled with memorabilia, liquor, and old people. Looked about right. We were greeted by Buela, the host of the event, who confessed to be from the year 1892. Proper!
The whole process was there: the background of the liquor (Screech apparently came from the sound American settlers would make when drinking it), the kissing of the cod (except ours was unfortunately made from wood), the pre-liquor phrase, and then the rum itself (which ain't half bad - if you're at 26.5 this summer, you may just get a taste). We regrettably didn't have a camera on us, because we weren't planning on taking picture of ourselves buying booze. Oh well. At least we got certificates. Mine was signed "Eastwood".
I should mention we forfeited two shows in St. Johns. The venue simply was never meant to be played in. No microphones, no rugs, no place to watch from, no place to play, no P.A. system. Just people sitting and eating. We didn't even introduce ourselves to the staff. We just ate panini and got the fuck out of there.
We were hungry for shows. Buela told us to check out a place called CBTG's. And check we did. We went out that night to check out the venue. For those of you who know your Toronto, it was almost exactly like the upstairs of Sneaky Dee's, except totally backwards. Everything from the grungy floors to the tiny wooden stage, that is always on the brink of giving way. The bathrooms were barely there. Wood panelling separated the boys room from the girls, and there were holes in pretty much everything that could have holes in it.
Aside from us talking to the staff about playing the next night, I remember drunkenly chewing poor sober-Danny's ear off about how much flavor St. Johns has, which is true. For those of you who don't know (and I didn't either), St. Johns is the oldest English city in North America. The residents have their own very distinct dialect which, at times, is almost inaudible to the ears. The harbors are littered with fishing boats that just wreak of authenticity. The canons of Signal Hill actually sunk invading ships back in the day, and there are enough original Newfy sing-alongs to put a Christian songbook to shame. There's seriously flavor in that city. Ask anyone who lives there.
That night, Dan met one of the performers of the night. His name was Thom Coombes. Dan mentioned that we were a touring band from Ontario and Thom graciously asked if we needed a place for tomorrow night. Considering the hostel was costing us over a hundred dollars a night, we gladly excepted. That's called Eastern hospitality. When was the last time you invited three strangers into your house after only a minute of conversation? Me neither.
After a few calls were made on our behalf to CBTG's, we had ourselves a show the next night. Beauty.
The day of the show we trekked up to Signal Hill. What a great day. The three of us spent a few hours on the hill simply enjoying the sights. On one side you have the entire St. Johns landscape and harbor. On the other you have an uninterrupted view of the ocean. I won't go on about how auspicious the sight of the ocean really is, because you really have to sit there for yourself and marvel at it's massiveness. I decided to go for a hike down some of the parks trails. After ascending to the coast, my curiosity lead me down another path - one that I would soon regret. What I ended doing was partaking in a "Coastal Walk", except backwards. I walked for so long that I went all the way from the foot of the ocean to some scuzzy place called the Battery Hotel and Lodgings. I called the boys, warning them that I had no idea where I was, or where I'd end up. Ten minutes later I called from the side of some road for a ride. My feet took the brunt of the hike. Stan 2's were never meant to scale coastline the way I did. Let's just say there's a good reason why my big toe is still wrapped in napkins and electrical tape.
Later that night we played our set at CB's. Fun show. Really hot, really tight, and loud as hell. Just the way I like my pants. Met some really cool people and had a lot of fun times.
Afterwards we went back to Thom's place, which also coincidentally held the number 26 address. I can't really put into words how much fun that night was. Amongst Thom was his hilarious housemates Bart, Megan, Dave, and Danielle. Their house was an expressive junction of creativity, imagination, and clutter, aside from being incredibly cheap to live in. I think I shot an entire roll of film that night documenting all the rooms. The majority of the night was spent in their living room bouncing between beers, laughter, rolling joints, stories, spinning records, smoking cigarettes, and general tomfoolery. Everyone living in that house had their own special brand of comedic genius, which mostly revolved around a "nothing to hide" mentality. Right around the time the sun came up (which was monumental because we were one of the first in the Western Hemisphere to see it), we headed to the nearest gas station for chips and beef jerky. My body was literally crying the next day from the amount of sodium coming from eating a bag of Scream Cheese Doritoes.
We woke up the next day around 3pm to go for a pleasure cruise. We found ourselves a nice little spot by the ocean to skip rocks and accidentally get soakers. After that we went back up to Signal Hill to sit in the van, listen to records, and stare at the ocean. There wasn't really another option for our last day in that city.
Afterwards we set up around 11pm for our next show at CBTG's, which is an unheard of time set up for a show in Ontario, but the bars do serve licka until 3am here, so the shows go on, and on. However, aside from some technical difficulties, we pulled together a solid show. Again, cool people, fun times, and lots of flavor.
We're now heading back to Corner Brook. We're playing our second show at Dooly's tonight, which should be interesting, because we're performing right before UFC 100 airs, which can mean one of two things: Either the people there to see the fight (which means everyone in the bar) will get really hyped up before the fight by listening to some rock, or I'll catch another bottle in the chest - except this time it'll be on purpose.
Amazing request hahaha that made me laugh. You boys and your Rasputin. I won't lie, I listened to Music and Me the other day and got a little teary rememebering the All-Out finale.
ReplyDeleteGlad you're having fun!
Love Katers