Show Reviews Pt. II

Date: June 5^th, 2007
Venue: The Smiling Buddha
Series: n/a

Conor’s transition from being my manager to being signed on as Soul Plane’s band manager was almost expected. Once he heard us play as a band at the Reverb, he knew he had platinum material on his hands. He immediately got to work with a local hip hop artist by the name of J-Shiltz and threw together a jam at the Smiling Buddha.

The good news was that this was more of a hip hop show, so by playing here we would inevitably extend our network towards a target audience vastly different from what we were accustomed to – obviously a positive thing. The bad news was that we were scheduled to play at midnight. On a Tuesday. This meant that the turnout would be lower than the average IQ of Alabama.

We played the same seven-song set yet again, swearing on all existing deities that this would be the last time, because if I hear “Soul Playin’,” “Floodgates,” “Fade Away,” “Fly,” “No Worries,” “Reach For The Sky,” and “Look My Way” in that order again one more time, I’m going to shit Lego blocks.

For the most part, we played a pretty decent set – definitely not our best, but good enough. What was left of the crowd loved us, but perhaps more significantly, the rappers who performed before us were into what we were doing and wanted to connect with us. The networks we formed that night would lead to yet another turning point in Soul Plane’s quest for success – touching base with J-Shiltz led to us playing (and winning $500, 12 hours of studio time, and a guaranteed performance slot in the RedPipe.ca show in September off of) a show hosted by Supernova back at the El Mocambo on July 4^th that he was headlining (more on that later).

The undisputed highlight of the night, however, came after we finished our set: once we closed off our last song, I looked at Gideon and said, “Let’s jam, guys.” He dropped a bass line, completely off the top of his head. Aaron followed four bars in, slamming into gear with a drum roll that would have been worthy of a majestic entrance. Kevin and Dan jumped on and everyone sounded perfectly in sync, except nobody in our band is a homosexual named Lance Bass. It was then that I realized that tonight was the night I was to bring back hip hop. I got on the mic and yelled, “I want all emcees to get the fuck back on this stage with me and rock out to a live beat right now!”

Everyone happily obliged; within 15 seconds I was tearing apart the mic with Crook and Cypha, J-Shiltz and Aspect from Mississauga, David Ace from the High Park area, and several rappers from the Waterloo hip hop crew Western Union. This spontaneous musical outburst continued for a good 10 minutes; each rapper got their time to shine. It reminded me of a Dirty South rap concert, where there are more people on stage than in the crowd (except there’s actual sense and feeling to our tunes, not to mention actual musicianship). But it didn’t matter: the inmates were running the asylum now…

As the lights shone right against my aviator-lens-shielded face, as the improvisation went on, I felt a chill make its way up my spine. Initially, I ignored it. I realized later that this surge was the feeling of satisfaction, the feeling of accomplishment, and the feeling of conquest all rolled in one, and although the pot of emotions had yet to stir, it felt good to prove Nas wrong: that night, if only for 10-15 minutes, hip hop was very much alive and well.

Are you ready for its second coming?

Date: June 23^rd, 2007
Venue: The Docks
Series: Band on the Run finals [Supernova.ca]

Where do I even begin with talking about this show? Let’s just say it could have been much better than it was had Supernova been able to give us a set time. And by better, I mean we wouldn’t have been playing at 3-fucking-pm. The sad part is, the devil has an extremely good advocate in this case: the basic rule of thumb at Supernova is that what time you play depends largely and almost exclusively on the amount of tickets you sell. On our end, however, we couldn’t sell any tickets to our 9-5 bread-earning entourage without at least a ballpark set time. The show at the Docks was supposed to run from 2pm in the afternoon until about midnight; it would have been unreasonable for us to have asked our fans, friends, and family to book off an entire 10-hour block on a Saturday just to commit to this shitfestival – we’re simply not that big yet.

Note: Supernova has been nothing but good to us. I would like to take this time to clarify the fact that we have no problems with them or their staff – we (Soul Plane) understand that certain set-ups and policies must be followed in order to ensure the smooth running of each show and do not fault you guys for the 3pm set time we got stuck with.

When we got to the Docks, the place was nearly vacant. Lakeshore Boulevard was playing, and frankly it is beyond me as to why they didn’t draw a bigger crowd. They had something I wish money could buy: their cohesiveness and energy were on a level where I didn’t just hear, or even just feel the music; I was actively participating in it. So yeah, they were a tough act to follow, but thanks in large part to our collective genius, Soul Plane gets tough when the tough are going for… ahhh whatever. I like cupcakes.

More so than other shows, this show was a learning experience; it was the first time we played new songs (“Band On The Run,” “Farewell To Arms,” and “Never Say Die”) in our set, and on the real, we needed practice. We were totally unprepared for a gig of these proportions, and it reflected clear as day in our recital of the music. From a visual performance perspective, however, we blasted it out the park. It was the first time we looked together as a band – my girlfriend took the time to organize a wardrobe so that we wouldn’t look mismatched like interracial couples do – and Blythe and I had an electrifying chemistry on stage, especially during our run-through of “Farewell To Arms.” In fact, the same could be said about the entire band. As badly as we were in dire need of practice, we actually looked like we were having fun on that stage, which, when it all boils down to it, is exactly what we came to do.

To sum it up, while it was quite the experience to play at the Docks (the stage was the size of a small Manitoban pig farm), we definitely could have upped the ante by bringing a bigger crowd. Allow me to make myself perfectly clear: the next time we have to play a Supernova show of this scale, we’re going to lie to all our fans and friends and tell them that we have a 10pm set time, and just work towards that goal by selling tickets and subsequently acquiring the pull the get the timeslot we want. The moral of the story here is that cheating people who respect you is okay, as long as you’re doing it for a good reason like getting an evening set time at the Docks.

Up next… Soul Plane performing in Chinatown North?? Stay tuned and find out… bozos.

Show Reviews Pt. I

Date: April 28^th, 2007
Venue: El Mocambo
Series: Band on the Run qualifiers [Supernova.ca]

I’ve always known Daniel Paiken (lead guitarist/back up vocals) to be excessively optimistic, but at the time I didn’t yet know he was clinically delusional. I mean, the band had realistically been jamming for maybe 2-3 weeks, if even that, and before I knew it I was having the following conversation with Dan:

Dan: Dude, I think we should really try to get a gig.
Yui: It’s been 2 weeks.
Dan: But I think we can do it; we’re ready.
Yui: It’s been 2 weeks.
Dan. I’m gonna do it.
Yui: It’s been 2 weeks.
Dan: We have a show the 28^th.
Yui: Shit.

You have to sympathize with my line of logic here: it had been two weeks. Seriously, we got together the beginning of April and laid tracks down like the Chinese did in the 1800s down south, but based on personal experience alone, I knew we were irresponsibly unprepared to play even at a nursing home where the residents wouldn’t be able hear us (or remember us after we left, for that matter).

Nonetheless, Paiken was on it. Several days later, we had a gig booked at the El Mocambo for the night of the 28^th of April. As a band, we feared the worst.

Surprisingly, we were able to bang out a substantial 7-song set by showtime, and we actually played at a pretty decent calibre considering it was our first time on stage together as a band. The only thing that brought us down had nothing to do with us: the sound technician at the El Mocambo was asleep at the console. Either that or he had the cognitive abilities of Terry Schiavo on Ritalin, because what we heard on stage did not match up with what the crowd was hearing in the audience. In short, the monitors on stage that were supposed to feed out our vocals at an equalized level in relation to what was coming out through the speakers simply did no such thing. As a result, the instrumentals were overbearing, and Blythe (lead vocals) and I ended up having to yell just to hear ourselves. Meanwhile, everyone on the floor could hear us just fine, and was wondering why these two idiots were screaming at the top of their lungs, off beat and out of tune.

Because I had to literally shriek my way through the seven songs like a little girl who just got her first period, my voice was weak and strained by the end of the night; towards the end of “Reach For The Sky,” a song where Blythe takes over the majority of the vocals, it was cracking like the homeless. I’m sure everyone had a good laugh at my expense. I know the band sure did when we watched the DVD of the show together in the Paiken basement several days later; my band is full of bastards. Hands down, though, the funniest part of the show was at the very beginning, when Blythe broke the cable off her microphone and then tried to blame the sound guy for not having hooked it up in the first place. The poor guy was getting shit from us all night, but that’s his fault for being such a moron in the first place.

All-in-all, we were pretty thorough with our set, especially bearing in mind that this was a first collective effort from the band. Little did we know that this relatively sloppy act would etch our names in the minds of all Supernova staff as the “new kids on the block with that fresh sound,” and lead to numerous opportunities to come…

Date: June 1^st, 2007
Venue: The Reverb
Series: Band on the Run semi-finals [Supernova.ca]

If it seems like we went from the qualifiers straight to the semi-finals of this Band on the Run series with Supernova, it’s because we did. That’s right – we didn’t even need to play the quarterfinals. After hearing Soul Plane play as well as we did (by their standards) and seeing the potential crowd numbers we were able to pull out (last show we were well into the hundreds), they gave us a pass right into the semis; there were certainly no complaints from anyone in the band.

The show itself was, in my opinion, much better than our first effort. Not only were we carrying all the emotional momentum from having advanced without even trying (literally) into the semi-finals, but on just an audio level, the sound engineers at the venue were very competent and accommodating to our needs; this was made evident by the near-perfect mixing of instruments and vocals, both through the speakers as well as the stage monitors alike – a sharp contrast to our experience at the El Mocambo.

Although we performed the same repertoire at the Reverb that we did at the El, the difference in terms of showmanship and musicianship was day and night. At the Reverb, we were a much more cohesive, tight-knit group – we played our music to near perfection. Everyone was into it, and without a doubt, if only for a moment, we seemed to have had the crowd convinced. More importantly, though, we had ourselves convinced. By the time “Reach For The Sky” kicked in (all over again), the crowd was chanting the lyrics to the hook of the song along with me.

The most notable aspect of this show was the selling of our demo tapes that we had just finished making copies of and printing the day of. We recorded our demo at Velvet Sound Studios; Mark McLay (owner, operator) was very patient with us and understanding of our needs (I will write more regarding the demo-recording session in a separate article later on) and did everything in his power to help us get the demo out on time; his efforts were not in vain, and neither were Dominic’s.

I was fortunate enough to have met Dominic Chenier (talented graphics expert and animation artist) at our place of employment; when he expressed interest in our band, I was shocked that an artist of his skill level would stoop to mere peasantry and sign on to do the artwork of the demo CD – and just like most of the people I surround myself with, Dominic came through and then some just by doing what he did best.

It was also at this show that we were approached by Orange Record Label owner Aubrey Winfield. It must be mentioned that I was excruciatingly hammered for this show (I’m not sorry); when I stepped off the stage I had only sobered up enough to remember that I was actually rapping on stage, at a show, at a venue where people were watching, rather than in the shower naked. I must have gotten confused because I tend to grab at my crotch when I’m rapping no matter where I am, and sometimes even when I’m not rapping. Anyway, some guy around our parents’ age came up to me and told me I played a great show. I asked him to what I owed this honour. He introduced himself as Aubrey Winfield, from Orange. At the time, I was drunk and couldn’t be bothered to take this encounter seriously, and besides, what in the hell was Orange anyway? I don’t like most fruit. The next day I spoke to Kevin and Dan about some guy from Orange approaching me. They both flipped out on the fact that I wasn’t more receptive to him, and that I didn’t even care to get his information down. I guess I’m not smart.

In general, it was a great night, and we truly played remarkably well; it makes me wish I was sober to actually remember something about it.

The Rest Is History

Back in 2004, Vaughan radio station RAV 90.7 FM got in touch with me when I was still very much in tune with the Toronto underground rap scene, back when I was still doing my own thing as far as music went. They had wanted me to perform at some kind of fundraising event called Summer Jam, where all the proceeds would go to the Stephen Lewis Foundation for AIDS. Before the show, they had also asked that I come in and do a live on-air interview with them, just to get potential audience members hyped that I would be there (like it was anything to have multiple orgasms over in the first place).

Since it was a fundraising event, it was only natural for RAV to want to organize a function that would reach out to as many people as possible; along with my hip hop act, there would be other performances from rock bands, jazz and fusion bands, solo vocalists, etc., even Ed the Sock was to make a guest appearance. The main feature of the night was some girl named Christine Evans. Apparently she was a big deal.

At any rate, the show was running behind, and everyone in the dressing room (which by this time looked, smelled, and sounded more like an Asian fish market) was on the verge of inciting riots. I was literally on my way to expiring of boredom, so I decided I’d entertain myself by adding to the noise pollution problem in the room. I sat at the piano and started playing random chords here and there, and before long, this Skinny Little White Kid with glasses and a guitar made his way over to where I was stationed. The following conversation ensued:

SLWK: Hey dude, that’s some pretty cool shit you’re playing there.

Yui: Thanks, man, I’m really just fucking around.

SLWK: Yeah, this hold up has everyone in heat. Hey, check this out, keep playing that for a second.

SLWK took a second to think about the chords I was playing, and suddenly started going to town on his guitar. I realized immediately that he was playing a solo over the chords I was playing on the piano, and they sounded good. For maybe the first time that night, I was impressed at something. I then told SLWK, who introduced himself as Daniel, that although I am trained classically on the piano, I was there to rap. He introduced me to some of his band, Lost Impact, who was lined up to play later on that night as well. This is where I met Kevin, an exceptional musical talent that would go on to become Soul Plane’s rhythmic guitarist and keyboardist, but I wouldn’t remember his face or be in contact with him until Soul Plane’s first get-together.

After the concert, we left off the night congratulating each other on our respective sets, and Dan and I agreed that we should definitely look to collaborate in the near future on musical projects that would combine rap and hip hop with rock and live instrumentals. We exchanged email addresses and I forgot about it and thought nothing of it for about three years.

Cut scene over to my own hustle in hip hop. I had been grinding for several years on the music tip, and finally, in the summer of 2006, I did a show at the Reverb that ultimately would prove to be a turning point in my career. I performed to a crowd so small any random by passer would have mistaken it to be a group of rehab inpatients having synchronized seizures in a circle, but one Conor Stief happened to have been present. At the time, Conor was busy being successful doing his thing being a DJ and getting paid good money to spin at bad clubs throughout Toronto and the Kitchener/Waterloo area. He always knew I could rap, and had heard some of my songs, but never really thought much of it. Once he saw me on stage, though, he decided on the spot to put aside his own blossoming career to make me an offer: he’d take up the reins of my career and push me to be the performer he thought I could be, so as to maximize my level of exposure. In return, he’d get to eat if I got to eat. In short, he wanted to be my manager; I accepted, not even knowing what his connections were, since anything was better than the nothing I was working with before he stepped in.

Cut scene again over to where I get bored of rapping as a solo artist and start charging people to record at the studio, and to get their songs mixed and mastered. I had picked up the tricks of this trade mainly out of frugality: making music was way too expensive for me to be paying other people to do it all for me. After learning the ins and outs of the software and hardware necessary for recording, I decided that it was time to make money. My bargaining chip was that since I worked alone, I could afford to keep prices low and still provide quality-sounding music. I had contracts drawn up, and I had mentioned to my friends that this was a service I was offering, and sent them copies of the contracts to send to anyone they thought would be interested in recording music at discount prices.

They say when you throw out the lines, the fish will bite. This case was no different. Within a week, a friend of mine named Marianne left me a message saying that a good friend of hers had the voice of an angel, and that although she was shy and only liked to sing at her vocal lessons or when she was drunk, she was still curious to see what she would sound like on a recording. As usual, I was sceptical. I was soon dissuaded of this scepticism when I heard Marianne’s friend sing over a sloppy recording – she was good. I told her to put her friend in touch with me. Enter Blythe…

Cut scene one last time back to where we left off in my solo rap career. Despite Conor’s efforts to get my name out in the hip hop circuits, I was becoming increasingly disappointed in rap music – nothing that came out on the radio sounded fresh, or had any musical value whatsoever. It was repetitive ad nauseam in both sound and content, so I was definitely looking for change, or some sort of sanctuary from all the bullshit; otherwise I would make good on my threats to just put the mic down for good.

As fate would have it, in April 2007, I received a call from Dan saying that he finally had a band put together, complete with a drummer, bassist, a rhythm guitarist/keyboardist and his own guitar. He wanted to see if I was still interested in experimenting with live instruments as a backdrop for my raps. Hell yeah, I was. We set a date at once. Around this time was when the whole thing with Blythe was just getting underway, too, so I invited her to come and check out “this thing I was doing with this band for some shit just to see.” I was being vague to cover my own ass, in case everyone sucked.

The night of the first practice, I came fully prepared to leave immediately. Over the couple of days leading up to that night, Dan had done a great job in ensuring that I would hate everything about the band before meeting anyone: in essence, he told me that our drummer and bassist were both 14 years of age. I told him I hate babysitting, I hate daycares, and I hate all things related to children. He assured me they had talent. I assured him they had yet to hit puberty. He laughed. I hung up. Interestingly enough, when I met Gideon (bassist) and Aaron (drummer), I didn’t get the “I need my diaper changed” vibe that I get from most kids. Aaron greeted me at the door politely, and smiling, led me to the basement where I was formally re-introduced to Kevin, and introduced to Gideon. So far, so good… we played around with different chord progressions and rhythms for a little bit to entertain ourselves during the wait, since I assured them that a vocalist would be “coming in to check us out.”

When Blythe arrived, I asked if we were ever going to get down to business. That’s when Kevin looked up from his keyboard, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “Dude, I got this tune I came up with for guitar originally, but here it is on piano, so tell me what you think…”

…and the rest is history.

The Dawn Of A New Era

I know, I know; this blog has been overdue since Soul Plane first came together in the Mellet basement around early April of 2007. In any case, the wait is over, and the official blog has arrived.

Clearly, I haven’t been standing around with my thumb up my ass this whole time; the band has been busier than Karla Homolka’s lawyers preparing for shows and events at miscellaneous venues around the Greater Toronto Area.

Coming soon: reviews for all past shows in one huge read... stay tuned.