Black Box Pt. II

“Guys – I don’t know if I can make the next session; I’m graduating on Saturday the 20^th of Oct., at 10 in the morning, so there’s like, no chance I’m staying for the whole thing. I gotta get home and crash.”

- Kevin, the 13^th of Oct., 12:45 am

“FUCK. THIS IS RETARDED. I GRADUATE IN 5 HOURS AND I HAVE TO DRIVE FOR AN HOUR AND A HALF JUST TO GET THERE. THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FUCKED.”

- Kevin, the 20^th of Oct., 5 30am

The thing about recording is that you never get it right the first time. Ever. Even when you thought you did – that was more than likely just you pretending that you didn’t feel reality hip checking you square in the nuts, because you’re busy being all caught up with how good you think you sound. Either that, or you’re just too tired and exhausted to admit to anyone (mainly yourself) that the tracks you recorded could use a bit of a touch-up here, a “re-do” there, another take where the guitar solo fuzzed out, etc. Then you leave, deceptively (however subconsciously – or unconsciously, for that matter, considering the back-to-back weekend graveyard shifts) patting yourself on the back, only to come back a week later and realize that the tracks you laid down just last week somehow suddenly became un-listenable hot garbage while you were gone, despite the fact that no one has touched the data files since you walked out of the studio. Never mind record label executives – you might as well start laughing yourself out of the office you haven’t even stepped into yet if you don’t plan on spending lucrative amounts of time and money cleaning up the mess you made.

Sound familiar? It does to us.

Despite not having planned our itinerary for this session as extensively as we did for the last, we all arrived well before the scheduled start time of 9pm, except Nickie and Blythe, who were making their way up together later.

After giving the songs we recorded last week a quick listen, we decided we were going to re-do all five of them, no questions asked. There was no way we were going to let anything go this time around, lest we release another disaster demo that was Countdown to Launch. Everything about that project was rushed – from the recording to the mixing to the mastering to the packaging to the… anyway, let’s just say some things would have been better left undone. History was not to repeat itself, however; we knew that in order for our product to become something we could be proud of, each one of us had to play to the best of our ability. Because I have a little more experience in the recording studio than the others, I was able to pass on this little piece of advice, hopefully making it stick for any future session we have together: each song you lay down not only has to be better than the last for it to be a keeper, but you have to be so happy with it that if you died of a stroke immediately following the last note you record in the booth, you’d be okay with the fact that this was your last recorded track as you transcended from this world.

No one takes me seriously.

We realized, above all, that what stood out as the biggest problem in our sound that required urgent remedy was the overall timing and rhythm. We decided we would try to play to a click-track (a metronome going through your headphones as you’re playing your song to the tempo you set) – this idea wasn’t even suggested until the very end of last session. And so, everything we did last week was effectively rendered void and null – we were still 0/5 in terms of songs recorded.

The girls arrived at around 9 30pm, only to find out that they weren’t going to record their vocals, nor was I mine, as we had planned out previously. They were fuming. Blythe almost got back in her car just to run me over with it. I tried explaining that we didn’t explore the option of playing with a metronome until really late into last week’s slot, but alas, my excuses fell on deaf ears. Fortunately, the girls knew better than to let their apparent seething get in the way of making good music. Their moods changed shortly after verbally abusing everyone there, because God damn, Blythe had been away for months now at school, and frankly, we missed the fucking shit out of that girl. Except Patrick, because he joined the group after Dan Paiken bounced, and didn’t get to meet her until the night of our second session at Machinehead. He was not disappointed, and neither were we; Blythe had improved significantly (not that she needed it in the first place, though) through her vocal classes up in university.

And so, as Kevin, Gideon, Aaron, and Patrick played their music, Nickie and Blythe were in the room with them, acting as conductors of sorts, ensuring that the boys played the song in the right format, with all the riff changes and transitions in the right place. As for myself, I was sitting in the lounge, smoking out of the tree-trunk-sized bong Dave formally introduced to us last time. I was getting wrecked – we brought a half-O of kush dedicated to the night/morning. Ohhhhh yeah, I was getting wrecked. But not too wrecked to notice that we sucked at playing music with a click-track…

It seemed that no matter what tempo Dave set the metronome to, we’d keep falling off-beat somehow. This worried me – after spending 45 minutes on the first two takes of the first verse of the first song, I had had enough. Questions came up as to whether or not we’d even get the instrumentals fully finished tonight. I stated in no uncertain terms that not finishing was not an option. After detailed breakdown of and intense listening to the play-backs of the track, we realized that the best (and likely only) way to fix this problem would be for Kev, Gideon and Patrick to play without the drums, and just have Aaron drum to the recording afterwards. And so, for the first time in a long time, luck was with us: this method worked out just fine for the band, and it was a day in the park from there.

After what seemed like years, the worst was over. We finally had the instrumentals done up, and now it was all up to the vocalists to finish what our band started. We came out of Machinehead Studio looking like we just got released from a POW camp. As the reference CD played in Blythe’s car as she drove us home, as Gideon and Aaron fell asleep in the back (Nickie had been dropped off at her university residence downtown, Patrick and Kevin left in Kevin’s car), as Blythe and I talked about Soul Plane’s future, as she was just telling me, “You know, Yui, despite Nickie and Patrick being new to the band, I somehow feel like everyone belongs… it’s like a huge family,” I suddenly became aware of the fact that this session was the first time that this version of Soul Plane had ever been in the same room together. For the first time ever, we had our whole roster present. And for the first time ever, this band felt very real, and very complete. Very… family. Kinda like in Arrested Development, except the Bluths only wish they could be as dysfunctional as us. And if we had a show about our family, it wouldn’t be cancelled after like, three episodes.

PS: Kevin has no recollection whatsoever of any kind of graduation ceremony, aside from that of the fat guy he was sitting beside constantly jerking him awake, shushing him for snoring too loud and berating him for drooling all over the place.

... and part III in story after the final vocal session on Nov. 9^th!!

Electronic (Im)Press Kit

RIIIIIIIIIIIII(or however your alarm clock beats you awake)IIIIIIING!!

Wake up, sleepyheads – it’s time to make moves and Soul Plane is kicking doors down and busting in guns blazing. Didn’t see it comin’, did ya? TOO BAD. That’s right, this is gonna be the swiftest kick to the crotch the music industry has ever had to deal with since Eminem’s “My Name Is” became mainstream.

With the recording of the demo CD well underway, it’s only natural that we start thinking about the other aspects to include in our official Electronic Press Kit, our ultimate battle weapon when assaulting record labels and show promoters. According to Wikipedia, a music industry EPK should consist of:

• biographical & contact information
• monochromatic, high resolution, press photos (for easy reproduction)
• music clips (with accompanying lyrics)
• stage plot
• performance requirements
• tour dates
• press reviews and interviews, etc.
• promotional videos
• contract and/or technical rider
• "RIYL" or "Recommended If You Like" list: a listing of artists of similar styles or genres

Taking care of business as usual, I drew up a band bio for our EPK:

Band: Soul Plane

Manager: Conor Stief

Members: Yui (Emcee), Blythe Hubbard/Nickie Minshall (Vocals), Gideon Litvin (Lead Guitar), Kevin Nanni (Rhythm Guitar), Patrick Tardif (Bass), Aaron Mellet (Drums)

The stage started buzzing with a faint medley of sounds of instruments being tuned, pedals being tested, vocals being warmed up and tempers being flared. Last minute panic before jumping into a set – perfectly understandable. Everyone’s nerves stood on end – deep breath, deep breath – it’s going to go great. Let’s focus, guys, because we can do this. This is everything we’ve been practicing for… let’s get lost in the music. After much fluctuation, the twangs of Kevin’s and Gideon’s guitars finally converged onto one note. I turned to them. Apparently, they were ready. Thumbs up from both Patrick and Aaron. Ready. Smiling nods from the beautiful vocalists on either side of me. They were all good to go, too. Was I? Deep breath, Yui. I turned my attention to the crowd, and greeted them resoundingly through the microphone in my hand. Lights… camera… ACTION. Suddenly, it was showtime.

Soul Plane has always been accustomed to taking off from short runways. Several weeks after coming together in the Mellet basement up in Thornhill, ON, Canada mid-April ’07, we played our first show, a seven-song set, at the El Mocambo downtown Toronto. Since then, we’ve touched down at venues such as The Reverb, The Smiling Buddah, Rancho Relaxo, The Docks (where we played at Supernova.ca’s Band On The Run Series Finals), as well as Lee’s Palace (where we played at the official Wakestock Afterparty of ’07, opening for BrassMunk and Chad Muska). We even got commissioned to play at the Toronto Night Market over the summer, a huge festival at Metro Square in Scarborough, ON, celebrating Chinese culture – truly proving that music has no language barrier attached to its communicative qualities.

The sound we produce can be described using no other adjective than “fresh.” Picture Linkin Park meets The Roots meets S Club 7 meets Gym Class Heroes. We’re certainly different from what’s being dealt with in the music industry these days, but it’s not a “weird” or “bizarre” difference – call it a “uniqueness” – it would be tough to put a finger on a genre in particular when referring to our music. The instruments are all live; there is nothing computerized or programmed about any of what we do. The riffs are rock and blues oriented – pour in a splash of jazz, a teaspoon of funk, and some droplets of metal. Then, overtop of all that, soufflé it with some smooth hip hop vocals and some angelic R&B female singing. Garnish it with some hard basslines, some steady, banging drumming, and it’s ready for the oven. Serves crowds of hundreds and thousands – bon appétit.

At this point, our band objective is to get our music out to anyone who will listen. Monetary figures are secondary – the important thing is to realize that we are here to make good music and be heard. Money is always welcome, but it will never be the primary focus of this band. Any label showing interest in us should understand first and foremost that what we seek from them would mainly be promotion, marketing, and distribution in the form of media interviews, shows, tours, music videos and/or album releases. Essentially, if the label were to guarantee providing us in full colour with these mediums of exposure, Soul Plane would be happy to sign on. We’re not picky – we just want people to know about us and what we have to offer.

All that having been said, Soul Plane is ready for launch. Allow me to extend you a personal invitation on behalf of the band to join us onboard this ride of a lifetime… strap yourself in, and enjoy the ride!

Those labels better love us; we got signed to get.

Black Box Pt. I

Note to self: overnight recording sessions at Machinehead Studio can decrease life expectancy significantly.

The recording session was scheduled to run from Friday, Oct. 12^th, 9pm until 5am the following Saturday; eight gruelling hours of playing music bearing perfection in mind and focus would inevitably take its toll on Soul Plane. We knew this.

In order to prepare for the ordeal, we planned out well in advance what we had to do. The Friday of, I had a job interview at 1 15pm. Kevin, Gideon, and Aaron were with me – I had told them to tag along since I couldn’t see the interview lasting more than 20 minutes. After that, we had planned to head back to Kevin’s place to crash and get some sleep before the overnighter. We were going to just wake up at around 7pm, and meet with Patrick at Finch subway station by 7 30pm. We also formulated the plan around the fact that we only had one car: Kevin and Aaron would drive down to the studio with the equipment, and Patrick, Gideon, and I would just take the subway there. Nickie and Blythe were taking this session off to get working on the vocals together so that they would be prepared to record at the following week’s session, which was when I was to record my parts as well. The whole point of having this planned out was so that we could arrive at the studio by 8 30pm, get set up, and be ready to record by 9pm on the dot.

Of course, when you’re Soul Plane, nothing ever works out according to plan. My job interview lasted two hours (don’t laugh, assholes, I got the job), so by the time I was out, it was already 3 20pm. The four of us were starving. We bought subs at Quizno’s and ate, after which we left at around 4 30pm. Then we decided we had to buy provisions in order to keep our bodies functional throughout the recording session – we walked out of Shopper’s Drug Mart at 5 15pm with water, energy drinks, cereal bars, trail mixes, and candy. “Isn’t it a little to cold to be camping these days, boys?” asked the cashier, smiling, thinking she was being funny. We almost slapped her. After Shopper’s, we had every intention of just going back to Kevin’s house to get sleep, but no such luck, because apparently you can’t sleep without first smoking weed. Shit. 5 45pm, we’re finally back at Kevin’s, high as blimps. Aaron: “Yo, that sesh energized me, man, let’s play Guitar Hero.” Clearly, no one is sleeping anytime soon. This was going to be dangerous.

7 30pm rolls around, and we’re at Finch. We head down to Machinehead and meet up with Kevin and Aaron there by around 8 15pm. The first question we ask Dave, the owner of the studio and the engineer we worked with, is: “Hey man, is it safe to bun in here?” He just laughed and went into the control room of the studio, and re-emerged with a bong the size of a fucking saxophone. “Studio bong, boys. Go nuts.” We all immediately liked Dave as more than a friend, and invited him to join us in our almost-daily, albeit recently developed, ritual of smoking ourselves into submission.

Dave was a man who paid attention to detail regardless of how much he got paid. I was thoroughly convinced he took utmost pride in his work when he asked Aaron, “Yo, mind if I tune your drums?” Aaron looked at him dumbly and said, “Oh… um, I kinda already did tune… does it not sound right?” Dave diplomatically replies, “Ahhhhm… they sound… okay…” He took 2 hours total tuning each drum in Aaron’s kit to pitch perfection, and another 20-30 minutes per guitar to make sure all the sounds were levelled properly. We didn’t end up recording until 12 45am, Saturday morning, but we didn’t mind – the instruments sounded impeccable as they were being recorded. This is the kind of attention our band needed from a studio engineer from day one, and everything Dave did in advance just meant that much less of a tail to pick up on during the mixing and mastering process.

We ran through several of our new songs (don’t worry, you’ll know about them once they’re in my hands, trust me), and laid out the instrumentals. With Dave’s expertise, they came out sounding crisper than a pair of freshly-ironed khakis, even raw and un-edited.

After having knocked around the idea for a while on the Soul Plane table of business discussion, we came to the conclusion that we should focus on four or five songs in our repertoire that we thought were the best and most marketable, and make a promotional demo based on those alone. We knew that labels generally don’t give a shit beyond the third song on any given demo they receive in their submissions department anyway, and that was being generous. Reality check: label execs hit “eject” thirty secs. into cassettes, don’t you know? So let’s be serious: trying to cut a full-length album with no exposure or distribution results only in lost money, energy, and time. The other reason we felt another demo was in order (remember Countdown to Launch?) was because the band had since made several changes to its roster and instrumentation since its last effort, not to mention the current situation of two female vocalists rather than the Dan-and-Blythe combination we used to roll with. Obviously, a new promotional product needs to be implemented – and so, the official Soul Plane electronic press kit (EPK) is on its way. Also, Conor needs it so that he can promote us so that we’re not Unicef-penny-eating, minimum-wage-earning, low-standard-of-living-having musicians for much longer.

Speaking of energy and time, we had too much of the latter and not enough of the former during the massacre that was this recording. Of course, collectively smoking a half-ounce as a band (shared between 5 people) before half-time into the recording session (by 1am we were running painstakingly low on our sesh supply) wasn’t exactly healthy, either. I swear, on that level, we really need Jesus in our lives.

By the end of the recording session, we had gotten all the work done that we went there to do, and smoked all the pot we had brought – there was no other way to put it: Soul Plane was on top of its game. As we pulled out of the parking lot, as Conor was driving Gideon, Aaron, and me back to Gideon’s house – our final resting place for the night, as the sun was just peeking out over the horizon as we looked eastward (this was around 6am), I couldn’t help but feel like I was in a band whose number one goal wasn’t the fame, fortune, glamour and glitz that can come from having an incredible amount of musical potential and talent, but rather that our focus was primarily on making good music and having fun. It’s almost as if we all share the mentality that as long as we take care of the important shit, the little details that make life so beautiful will all just fall into place. And if the mission’s accomplished, or at least, going so far so good until next weekend’s recording session, then who can argue with that?

Stay posted… part II of this story is coming as events follow!

Soul Plane Broadcasts Itself, Somehow

I was surfing YouTube the other day to see if anyone had been able to bootleg and upload an episode of “The Office” I had missed seeing for several weeks. While I was at it, I decided to go out on a limb and ran a quick search for “Soul Plane Toronto,” just to see what would come up. I was surprised to see footage of us letting the audience have it in the chops at the Toronto Night Market several months ago, over the summer; I forgot my cousin was in the audience and had actually taken it upon himself to camcord the set and broadcast everyone but himself. I’m also having trouble believing that this video has generated over 400 views since its upload, because really, who the hell cares about Soul Plane?

At any rate, here we are, playing “No Worries:”

And if that’s not working properly for whatever reason, the direct URL is http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CLq7ruygH60. Break a leg.

And after that, leave a comment.

The Show That Never Was

Date: September 29^th, 2007
Venue: Clinton’s Tavern
Series: n/a

Sometimes we seriously have no answer for why we suck so badly. Sometimes everything can go so perfectly for a while that you finally think it’s safe to loosen up your belt a notch or six and take a breath of relief. Suddenly, BLAM, someone gets their eyes gouged out with the sharp end of the stick fate often waves to inflict misery, pain, and poverty. Soul Plane has eaten so much shit in its short history as a band that if we threw up collectively we could probably use it to fertilize most of Africa’s barren lands and solve Third World hunger like, right away.

But God damn, everything was going so well. Since Dan’s leave, we had had the opportunity to re-solidify our music: we had a bassist (Patrick) who could walk lines harder than Johnny Cash, as well as a vocalist (Nickie) who could bring people out of comas with her angelic voice. Kevin and Gideon had both tightened up their sound and cohesiveness after assuming new instrumental responsibilities on guitars. Even Aaron got his game up somehow, despite that being not at all necessary (but Aaron’s one of those guys who never wants to stand out as kicking less ass than anyone else). As for myself, I stopped caring way too long ago. Honestly, though, if I may say so myself, we sounded fucking magnificent. Everything was a “go” until Saturday morning when I receive a phone call from Nickie, nearly in tears:

Nickie: Yui, I can’t make it to practice by 1 45 – my grandma had a heart attack this morning. My mother’s coming down to the hospital from out of town, and I have to be there.

What the hell could you even say to something like that? Looking back on it now, I’m impressed at the fact that she even had it in her to call me and let me know. I spend as much time thinking about Soul Plane as I do thinking about which garment to extract from my underwear drawer in the morning, and yet, here was a girl whose grandma had just underwent a massive cardiac arrest, calling to make sure that we didn’t just think she was bailing out.

Yui: Whoa… wow… okay, take it easy, handle your business and don’t worry about this shit for now.
Nickie: I’m so sorry, Yui, I really want to do this show…
Yui: Family first, Nickie, if you can do it, that’d be great. If not, forget about it, worry about grandma.
Nickie: Thank you so much for understanding.

Shit – this was bad. We tried calling Blythe, but being three hours away, there was no way she was coming back for anything short of a record label signing. Besides, she also had pneumonia. And she probably spends as much time thinking about Soul Plane as she does thinking about which garment to extract from her underwear drawer in the morning, but more likely less.

I called Conor to give him the terrible news. Conor is a man that’s all about his business; I half-expected to hear him blame me for Nickie’s grandma’s heart attack. I was wrong – he was horrified, and definitely agreed with my telling Nickie to not worry about Soul Plane, that family was more important. As I worried that people who mattered would be coming out to this show, and that this would be a skidmark on our impeccable attendance record, Conor reassured me that this was a J-Shiltz event – ie, a total write-off. Not in the sense that his jams suck or anything (far from it, they’re often the most fun parties to play at for me because the crowds there are, for the most part, into hip hop and more importantly, enthusiastic about Soul Plane’s music), but that Shiltz, after having worked with us extensively for many a performance set, would be more inclined to be understanding and forgiving about our sudden disappearance. I told Conor to express gratitude to Shiltz on Soul Plane’s behalf for the opportunity to perform. Conor told me to stop telling him how to do his job.

We ended up spending the night at Kevin’s place, productively churning out new material that we desperately need to get down for our upcoming album recording. And so it seemed, as the evening progressed, that there was beauty in the breakdown, that despite Nickie’s unforeseen tragedy, Soul Plane was still able to catch a silver lining in the form of freshly written music, and make progress as a band despite the show having been cancelled. It also helped that we were high as shit.

On that note, Soul Plane is on hiatus for the month of October due to recording. As a band, we are taking this entire month to focus on cutting an album that will alter the course of Canadian music history forever. I’m so serious – this LP is going to be fucking bananas. If we don’t get signed to something off this record I am self-stabbing. However, this effectively means that we will not be doing any shows or be playing at any events in October. Soul Plane sincerely apologizes to the dozen or so people that care.

Sometimes fate has a funny way of reminding you that when you have bad blood with it, it’ll ruin the lives of not only you and the people close to you, but also your descendants’ firstborns and sometimes a business associate.

This proved to be true when I came home the next day, I checked my laptop to see that my MSN was signed on, and that’s when I noticed the message Conor had left me:

Dr. Conor Cutz says:
yo
Dr. Conor Cutz says:
lucky u dude
Dr. Conor Cutz says:
we got down to the venue last night and the jam was cancelled
Dr. Conor Cutz says:
the promoter fucked shiltz
Dr. Conor Cutz says:
so either way u guys wouldnt have played

Sorry, Shiltz, I wish I wasn’t working with us either.