MUCH Chronicles Pt. IX

Over the summer, MuchMusic contacted Soul Plane and informed us that they would be invading our lives for a good couple months to film our band's debauchery and give us some national television exposure and to put us through rockstar training to see if we have what it takes to make it somewhere in the music industry. If you haven't seen the episode or heard the verdict yet, catch it online now at http://www.muchmusic.com/tv/disband/soulplane.asp (full-screen the window for the optimal in-yo'-face experience). These are my memoirs from our time on set with Much...

The Voiceover Sessions

Location: MuchMusic Headquarters

Saying formal goodbyes to MuchMusic after our final performance like everyone else in Soul Plane did was, for me, an absolutely inappropriate thing to do. In fact, the weeks that followed the success that was our show at Much saw me getting busier than I ever was during the actual filming process.

You may have noticed that throughout our “Disband” episode that there’s a dude that keeps talking off-camera and why won’t he just shut the hell up and let me watch this damn show. That’s because MuchMusic decided that reality-TV fans cannot get enough of a first-person narrative of what’s going on – merely seeing us get chewed up, swallowed, and projectile-thrown-up in a back alley by music industry bigwigs for 17-or-so minutes (until the judges miraculously got high or something and somehow and decided that we had what it takes, despite all contrary appearances, to make it in the music biz) wasn’t enough, they had to hear it from the horse’s mouth. Except on the show I looked more like an ass than a horse.

When Hector called me to tell me that I’d be doing the voiceover sessions for our episodes, I was less than excited. I knew immediately that they would have a script prepared for me, and I knew that the script was going to be cornier than a bag of nachos. Obviously this is no reflection on the writers of the show; this is more a reflection on their target audience’s shitty sense of humour. I don’t care how much you want to blame the writing, because the numbers don’t lie: somebody out there is tuning in and sending these ratings through the roof, which gives the head honchos at Much Headquarters the impression (and rightly so) that the mainstream masses are eating it up (because you are), which leads to a pat on the back and a letter of encouragement for the writers, which now backfires in my face hard because I have to read this in a way that convinces everyone that this is really how I would talk. I was going to have to either stand up for myself once the script fell into my hands, or sit down to pee on national television.

From the sounds of it, I definitely chose the latter.

But even how gay I sounded narrating our two months of camera-time with Much couldn’t take away from the experience of actually recording the voiceovers for a reality show. Each session I was called down for (and there were several because I suck and I’m no good at making other people’s shit my personality), Hector was in Super-Host God Mode. He gave me a tour of the entire building, I got to meet a lot of the Much TV personalities – they’re all just as cool as they seem on TV. Hannah Simone and I got to kick it and that’s where I found out she wasn’t even that offended that I dropped “faggot” in my freestyle against Bishop, she just had to play it up for the purposes of the episode. Nevertheless, she took the opportunity to warn me that part of her job description when interviewing bands/celebrities is to find out where they “fucked up and expose them accordingly,” so if I wanted to avoid that kind of grilling from other media personalities, I needed first and foremost to watch my mouth and my actions. I in turn reassured her that I wasn’t looking to put gays on blast… just Bishop. And that didn't work out so well either.

During our down time, interspersed with smoke breaks and meeting and kicking it with TV personalities at Much, we went over how these voiceovers were supposed to go down: I was supposed to sound like I truly meant everything I was reading off that script. I got a lot of heat from my friends at how corny some of those voiceover lines were – I’d like to take this time to clear the air: I did not write my own shit, nor did I see any of the footage that my voiceovers were supposed to be segmented into. If I had, it would NOT have come out sounding cornier than a bag of Tostitos chips. Not that it sounded shitty or anything, but if they just let me talk as I was watching the final cut of the episode, they would have gotten a fully authentic commentary on everything that was happening on the screen. It would have been much more entertaining: for example, during the scene where Soul Plane goes into group-hug mode after Sarah Taylor announced the verdict, I woulda been like: Yeah, here’s where I hump Gideon’s leg. See? Much better already – no pun intended.

And then there were just some things I flat-out refused to say. One of the writers tried to get me saying something like, “…and when Greig said that we shouldn’t play ‘Life is Beautiful’ for the judges, it kinda put a pickle in our steeze.” Are you serious? What the fuck is a pickle? I put pickles in my sandwich. Who says “pickle” for ANY OTHER REASON? What kind of assclown was this writer trying to make me look like? When I got to the line I calmly looked at Kelly, the studio engineer at the time, through the glass pane and then the writer who was, at the time, supervising the voiceover session, and the following conversation ensued:

Yui: I’m not saying “pickle.”
Writer: What?
Yui: This line here… “…a bit of a pickle of a situation?” What the fuck does that even mean?
Writer: It means that Greig telling you not to play that song was pitching a curveball at your plans.
Yui: Couldn’t you have just written THAT?

Writer: …

Yui: Seriously, I’m not saying this.
Writer: Well, just give it a shot, man. It might come out good.
Yui: Impossible.

Kelly: Yeah, I think it sounds stupid too.
Writer: Oh.

Another thing I refused to say was the word “finangle.” I don’t know what that means either, and I certainly didn’t care about context. It just sounds dumb no matter where, when or how you say it.

Most of you have seen our episode. What did you think of the voiceovers? Email your thoughts to fanmail@soulplanemusic.com. I’ll pretend to care as soon as I remember the password to get into that email account.

Party Of None

Date: November 26^th, 2008
Venue: The Kathedral
Series: n/a

You know it’s all about the music when Mel drives all the way back from London, Ontario, to Toronto on a Wednesday to play a gig on a dingy-ass stage in front of literally four people. But we knew what we were getting ourselves into: we knew three weeks ago when we booked this show that after having done the Opera House on Friday night that we’d be too promotionally exhausted to drag out numbers for tonight.

You’ve seen (actually, likely not) the fruits of our labour when we give half of a damn about pulling a crowd out. They’re meandering, to say the least. In fact, if they were real fruit, it would be the Department of Agriculture’s top priority to put a product recall on them.

Tonight, our land was plagued with locusts. No fruit for anyone.

It’s cuz the farmers are retarded.

This became apparent when everyone in the band and then some came over to my downtown residence to session and get smashed before getting on stage. It is, at this point, worthy to note that we have never collectively gotten this degenerated as a band. Not even for MuchMusic. And that was ridiculous, even by our standards. We were barely coherent by 9pm, and when we arrived at the venue around 10 15pm, most of our cognitive abilities were a cause more lost than feminism. Mel was so destroyed that she forgot her lyrics as she was rehearsing them to herself in the car, and she started begging me to ask the promoters to see if they could pull our set... 15 minutes before our set was to begin. It was hilarious.

The worst part of tonight was that I almost chopped off my crotch, thanks to Soul Plane drummer Aaron Mellet. Literally 5 minutes before showtime, this guy realizes that he forgot the noise-cancelling headphones he needs to hear the metronome he needs to keep the band together in Kevin’s car, parked at least 10 minutes’ walk away from the Kathedral. It was unanimously decided that I should go fetch – their reasoning was that I had no equipment to set up. For definitely not the first time ever, I hated rapping in a live band. After some obscure and ambiguously babbled directions from a very distracted Kevin, I smelled like team spirit and bolted out the door. Down Queen St. I flew, past at least two parking lots that were closed down – just my luck. I duck right on a street that looks like lots of people get raped on every day, and somehow, I see his silver Passat station wagon just sitting there under a streetlight.

You know how when you’re in a rush, and you’re running, and you see your objective destination from afar, you start picking up speed towards it, right? Right. So I’m probably running a healthy 15km/h by now towards the car when suddenly I get this sharp and rapidly increasing pain in my scrotum, as well as the wind knocked out of my chest. But who gives a shit about wind when your balls are getting cut off. I look down to see this thin-ass chain-wire barricade that these low-rent lots use to seal off their property wedged into my legs and dick. I had run nuts-first into this thing and not seen it in the dark. It hurt a lot. My skin, the cotton fabric of my boxers, and Rocawear denim have never gotten to know each other so intimately. Seriously, I almost cried. I was, in all honestly, way too terrified to do a feel-check. But who cares about never being able to have sex again, because we had a show to do.

When I made it back into the Kathedral 45 seconds to show time, I was in pain, out of breath, and sweaty. Usually I save the “just-had-a-miscarriage” look for after the show.

When we got on stage, for the four bars of the intro to “Soul Playin’,” the first song of our set, I actually managed to do a headcount: our crowd consisted EXACTLY of two bouncers, one bartender, all seven people on the promotion team from the high school we were supposedly fundraising for but really just losing money on behalf of because we brought no one, our (potential) new bassist Alex Lam and one of his buddies, one of my roommates, and Jade.

Our set saw more debauchery than I’ve ever been associated with in my life. Mel was forgetting lyrics, Luke was playing the wrong bass riffs for songs we didn’t write, and everyone just plain sucked. It hardly mattered, though, because we kept it gangster and played our hearts out. We had the time of our lives.

Along with gangster, the other thing we keep it is real. This MSN conversation between Gideon and I sums up the evening comprehensively:

- www.soulplanemusic.com [UPDATED] says:

Yo we are so bad

Golden Giddle says:

yea i knowwww

- www.soulplanemusic.com [UPDATED] says:

How did we even make it through that gig

- www.soulplanemusic.com [UPDATED] says:

Without having something thrown at us

Golden Giddle says:

there weren’t even people there to throw something

I don’t give a shit about anything but our Spring Break Tour in Panama City, FL. right now. None of us do. Let me make this real easy: if you’ve made plans with Melanie Goldman, Gideon Litvin, Kevin Nanni, Luke Rust, or Aaron Mellet between now and Feb 21^st, you are wrong. They will be learning songs up the yinyang and having exactly not enough time to see you. They are to officially reappear in the public eye on Feb 21^st, on the tour bus. Find out how to join us – see UPCOMING EVENTS section for details!

Garbage Times Band

Date: Nov 21^st, 2008.

Venue: The Opera House

Series: S&S

Shortly after our MuchMusic episode aired early on around mid-September, a local promotion called S&S got in touch with us and asked if we were interested in playing at the Opera House on Friday, November 21^st. Thinking that our success on TV would help us draw out numbers to fill the Opera House and given the amount of time between now and show night, we went for it and within a week, we had tickets in our hands to sell to our fans.

In mid-October, Mel found out that she would have to represent the University of Western Ontario’s hip hop team in a province-wide dance competition in Hamilton on Saturday, November 22^nd. The event was a huge deal and there was no way she would be able to miss it. We understood, and, after talking amongst ourselves, we decided that we’d go ahead with it since we still had a long time to promote the gig, and because of this grace period we would also have time to practice with Conor, who would have to fill in as DJ and scratch over most of Mel’s parts. It would be a different sound, a more gritty sound, a less practiced sound… but a sound we definitely had heard before when our former vocalist Blythe got sick the day of a show we were performing at the El Mocambo (see In One Ear Throwdown Showdown blog – Sept 7, 2007). The result of this spontaneous experiment was rather stellar, given that we had rehearsed an astounding total of 0 times before throwing it together on the El Mo’s first floor stage. In any case, it worked out before with no prep time so there was no reason why, logically, it wouldn’t work out BETTER with SOME prep time and ALL this month and some change left to sell tickets.

False. We still blow chunks like fellating fatties.

The promotion for this show was riddled with tell-tale signs of our usual “too little too late” approach. Vlad, Conor, and I ran around the Eaton Centre handing out tickets to the gig to people who generally just forced a smile and tried to seem as genuine as possible while bold-faced lying to us through their teeth: we heard everything from “Sorry, bro, I got a thing,” to “Oh… yeah, sure, I’ll see what’s up with my friends and maybe we’ll come check you guys…” to “Soul Plane? I love Soul Plane! I’m coming for sure!” No, are you not, you’re full of shit and I can smell it from here. Wipe your mouth; you’re starting to skidmark a bit under your lower lip. Aside from this and the usual website/MySpace/Facebook post/text-blast, we didn’t give a shit and it showed. It was a shitshow.

The fact that Mel wasn’t at the gig hurt more than just our performance; only when our set started did I realize that we had completely overlooked the fact that the Opera House stage was like a fucking football stadium compared to the cubicle that was the El Mocambo. With Mel, it would have been at least two bodies moving about constantly onstage to the rhythm to get the crowd going. How the hell was Conor supposed to help with stage presence with two big-ass turntables and a mixer on a stationary banquet table in front of him? I’m not Jay-Z… filling a stage the size of the one at the Opera House by myself was something I was not accustomed to having to do. Whatever, I did my best to get the crowd going, but the effort seemed more like putting a wet blanket over a pile of puke and hoping that no one notices the smell – hardly anybody moved during our entire set. This almost NEVER happens. Usually people are hopping after our first song, but this time, the complete change (or lack) of dynamics was not suitable for our audience. It seemed like I was rapping to a bunch of nursing home residents. It was the slowest suicide ever without actually getting to die. My girl Jade swears that there were some loud-ass cheers coming from the section where the 19+ concert attendees were quarantined with their alcohol, but I don’t remember hearing anything. I would have remembered a cheer, since there were so few of them at such small volumes that night. Instead the only memories I have are of me wishing the set would hurry up and end so that I could get off stage. But I digress, because a dead crowd is still better than no crowd. A dead crowd means that we fell off for that one particular night. No crowd means we’ve sucked forever and now even less people care to notice.

Mel not being at our show ruined our entire turn out. You have to understand something: look up Melanie Goldman on Facebook. Go on, just do it. When she adds you, look at how many friends she has in her list. She’ll tell you she doesn’t talk to all of them all the time, but I’ve seen her on her Blackberry and I know much better. Before Soul Plane got on national TV, during my promotion runs for the band, I’d tell random people on buses and in malls around Toronto that I rapped for a local band called Soul Plane and one out of every 15-20 people I talked to would be like: “SOUL PLANE?? DO YOU KNOW MEL G??” In short, all the girl has to do to bring 20 people to ANY EVENT SHE IS AT is send out a couple messages on Facebook – I mean, she’s the reason we can even call our crowd a “fanbase.” Needless to say, her absence at the show translated into a crowd of maybe 20 people. Luckily it was a Friday night and there were some people at the Opera House. Otherwise I would have left.

To the fans: seriously, more of you guys gotta start making an effort to come out to these things. You’re all we got. Without you our music falls on no ears (we’d be grateful even for deaf ones – Vlad actually gave a ticket to a deaf guy at the Eaton Centre on Friday afternoon before the gig), and really, you guys are almost the whole reason we do this. If you want to see Soul Plane blow up, this is your chance to become part of the solution. If you love us you will show up to our next gig.

For the love of God.

Anyway, I don’t know whether I’m getting more bored or more depressed as I’m writing this, but I’ve decided to just stop because I hate dwelling on garbage. Bottom line: the band will never be playing another gig without some sort of female vocalist/counterpart for me to play off of on stage. Not to say Conor didn’t pull his weight on the wheels of steel because he did and then some, but he shouldn’t have had to. It was a shitty night and no one should have to hear any more about it. In conclusion, Soul Plane learned a hard lesson: prepping for important gigs is like having unprotected sex; you gotta know when to pull out.

Much Chronicles Pt. VIII

Over the summer, MuchMusic contacted Soul Plane and informed us that they would be invading our lives for a good couple months to film our band's debauchery and give us some national television exposure and to put us through rockstar training to see if we have what it takes to make it somewhere in the music industry. If you haven't seen the episode or heard the verdict yet, catch it online now at http://www.muchmusic.com/tv/disband/soulplane.asp (full-screen the window for the optimal in-yo'-face experience). These are my memoirs from our time on set with Much...

Day 8 – August 9^th, 2008

Location: MuchMusic Headquarters
Time: 9 30am

Read the blogs. If there’s anything the track record of this band can tell you, it’s that everything that could ever go wrong will. So, naturally, you can understand my worry about how today was going to unfold. A lot of factors had to come together and fall in line perfectly for the main event to go smoothly, a lot more factors than most events of any sort involve (just think – it’s MUCHMUSIC).

Let’s put it this way: we’re usually the only factors at most of our other events, and that rarely goes well. This could be the ultimate worst.

Today was the day Soul Plane was to stand under intense scrutiny by a panel of Canadian music industry professionals who each had the role of judging whether or not we had what it takes to make it somewhere in the industry. Harrison Hennick, owner of Reservoir Recordings and Soul Plane merchandise sponsor, was to arrive by 10am with t-shirts and demos along with Louis Saturnino, Soul Plane’s in-house cameraman who was to come in and snap away for a photoshoot inside the Much environment. The band itself has six members and a manager, as well as a promo team to bring together at what is generally considered an ungodly hour on a Saturday morning, with heavy-ass instruments and amps the size of bar fridges to carry, load, and unload. Let’s not forget the drive downtown Toronto from Thornhill.

Side note: 8:50am, Kevin calls me as I’m on the road on my way to Aaron’s, where we were to meet before we headed down together: “Yui, we have a slight problem, buddy. One of the Long and McQuade amps is fucked. It like, refuses to play.” Okay, I’m not an expert on amps or anything, but I’m pretty sure that if an amp DOESN’T MAKE SOUND, this problem is anything but “slight,” Kevin.

And so it begins.

After nearly swerving into the police cruiser in the adjacent lane, I slowly regained my composure and we managed to confirm after a series of calls that Steve’s Music on Queen St. would have a Marshall stack available for us for pick-up well before soundcheck was to happen.

Your move, Fate.

Call time was 10am. We were there by 9 30. Hector had told us to arrive as early as possible and to call him when we arrived at the front of the Much building so that he could have a crew come out to film us unload and set up for soundcheck. Imagine the kind of burn-out we were in for: we weren’t supposed to be playing until 1pm, and our fans had been told to stay away from premises until at least 12 30pm. The day was set to be longer than most university convocations. And it was raining. How gay.

Whatever, the show will go on no matter how many death threats I have to make and carry out. We have worked our asses off for two solid months on this ONE song. And I swear if I have to hear this song ONE more time after today I’m going to punch my next door neighbour in the mouth. “Impossible.” I don’t even like that word anymore. I’m so sick of my verse – these two months have made me lock down my material so hard I can rap it backwards mid-coitus. We had consulted the best in the business: Greig Nori was our main go-to guy for the whole thing – he was the man behind the complete re-vamping of the song. Over the months, “Impossible” had evolved into a mainstream-able single under Greig’s supervision, and the hope was that the judges would think so as well. Bishop, legend of Toronto emcee, had been enlisted by Much producers to work with me on my flow and delivery for my verse on “Impossible.” Saukrates, Canadian rapper extraordinaire who’s toured world stages with Nelly Furtado, crashed one of our rehearsals to give us advice on how to put our best foot forward in terms of visual presentation. July and August saw us going through rockstar boot camp – don’t let the episode fool you, they only want you to THINK we did it in a week.

By 10 30am, Louis walks in and immediately gets to work. Before long I’m posing in all corners of the Much environment and definitely getting in the way of everybody doing way more important things. I started to worry, though, when Harrison was still a no-show by 11am – our fans needed shirts for national TV and for the judges – we had to absolutely make sure that it looked like people liked us. If you saw the episode, you’ll know that for just one day, we had the entire world fooled: when Harrison finally showed up by 11 40am with a boatload of cargo on him, I immediately worried much less – everything was coming together to help us A-town stomp Fate in the scrotum. The only thing that could ruin us now was the judges, or someone calling in a bomb threat to MuchMusic.

We had an anticipated 100+ or so people who had confirmed that they would be at the show, but track record told us that maybe 65% of them would actually come out. It’s never as good as it sounds where crowd size is concerned. As the boys plugged shit in left and right, Mel and I hung around outside trying to lure people into the Much building, in the same way that repeated sex offenders try to lure hot women into dark alleys.

Most notably, two gorgeous girls happened to be walking around Queen St., totally oblivious to our predatory instincts at work as they stopped in front of the Much building and started taking pictures. I jumped right on it: “Hey, if you come back around noon, the view will be much nicer…” She looked at me like I just asked her to wash my asshole. “I mean, my band’s going to be playing here, and if you wanna come in for the party and be on MuchMusic, all you have to do is show up back here at 12 30pm.” Look at me, shamelessly baiting the hook like a pro.

We struck up conversation, and I discovered that the pair was friends from Halifax who were in Toronto for a vacation. I also discovered that getting on MuchMusic was like, the second most exciting thing ever to people from Halifax next to eating delicious lobster, so needless to say, they agreed to return. Glad I could help, ladies. Since the airing of our episode, Jamie and Alex have emailed us to thank us for a memorable Toronto experience, as well as to let us know that we kick ass and to not stop making music. Well, thanks for all the love, and I’ll holler at you both if the Plane ever makes it out of Toronto.

This means we’ll never see each other again – you have nothing to worry about.

As we set up and ran soundcheck, the realization that we could be told to shut the hell up and get the hell out on a nationally-televised program in the form of a “thumbs down” from the judges set in. As I went outside shortly before 1pm to greet our fans lined up screaming outside the Much building with signs waving (Katherine actually had glitter all up in her shit. Glitter. She’s 24. Also my favourite), I was overwhelmed by the amount of people that had come out to support us and show us love on national television. They were all wearing Soul Plane shirts (Shain, Conor, and Harrison ran around outside the Much building handing them out, we had most of downtown Toronto clad in Soul Plane apparel), holding copies of our demo. People I had never met, people off the streets, people I grew up with, friends, family, acquaintances… everyone was excited to absolute shit for us. They had come out on this fine Saturday afternoon (even though it was raining) to stand behind us, in front of a firing squad of judges. I sighed as the thought of the possibility of letting all these people down crossed my mind, but thought better of it and immediately wiped my mental board clean to focus on what was to come. Nothing else in this world mattered right now other than the people in this building… it was time to take it down.

As we gathered in the green room before they brought in the panel of judges, Hector was quick to pull the camera out to get in on our conversation. He asked us what we would do if we were told to disband today after our performance. I told him that if the judges said “no” to us, they’d also be saying “no” to Greig Nori, to Saukrates, to Bishop, to everyone who had put in effort or contributed in some way to make today happen. The general attitude in the green room was that we had done our very best for these two months, and that it was damn near impossible to do more. This was us at our maximum potential; by now you guys have seen the episode – “if they tell us to disband, fuck them.” I meant it entirely. They introduced the judges: Jen Hirst, an A&R from EMI Music Canada who signed Billy Talent; Colin Lewis, a booking agent for The Agency Group; Matt Wells, host of MuchMoreMusic; Hannah Simone, the Much VJ who tore us apart in the interview; and, just for me, JDiggz – one of Canada’s most well-known rappers. This oughta be good.

This was about when Greig Nori dropped what I consider to be the quote of the entire Much experience on us, a byte which was incidentally on record and aired with the episode: “If today goes well, and you get the thumbs up from the judges, and everybody is loving it, and seeing how well we worked with each other over the last little while, would I be able to get first crack at producing Soul Plane?” Again, you guys saw the episode; we were floored. Please believe we are in the process of following up on this…

And performing… don’t even get me started. Clad in grey, black, and pink (yes, pink), we looked nothing short of majestic as we took the stage. The lights in the environment matched the colour scheme we were running, and as Aaron tapped the band in, you could feel slabs of momentum just get stacked one on top of the next. Honestly, I could write a whole ‘nother blog about the three minutes during which we played live at Much. It was easily the best three minutes of my life – I loved the challenge of trying to decide which cameras to make eye-contact with out of the 15 or so moving around us simultaneously. I rapped my heart out, and for the first time in my entire career, forgot about my fans (in my defense, they were behind me and thus out of sight). For the entire show, I could see nothing in that room but the judges, as if rather than performing at MuchMusic I was conversing with each one of them individually. Like, damn… how many musicians or bands actually get to do this shit, get this level of exposure on Canada’s most wide-spread entertainment network, and how many of them aspire to taste this just once in their decade-long slow-grinding careers? Trust me, I know exactly where they come from – I’m that same starving artist who just happened to get a lucky break here. If you still can’t understand how much this moment meant to me and how much I cherished it, then I can’t help you because you don’t understand English, homeboy.

After the fans rocked out with us and cheered us on louder than we’ve ever been cheered on. I waved to the judges (especially Hannah, just to let her know I deep down still love her even though she ruined my shit on national TV), introduced them to our fans, and went back into the green room while the judges were to deliberate amongst themselves (in front of our fans) over whether or not we had what it takes to make it in the music industry. Except instead of deliberate, they decided deliberHATE. I am not ashamed to say that several of my friends were text-messaging me with various summaries of what the judges were saying. JDiggz wasn’t down with my swagger. Several judges on the panel thought Mel should leave Soul Plane and do her own thing. They hated the band name because of the negative associations that automatically come to mind linking us with that flop of a Snoop Dogg flick. They picked apart Aaron’s pink scarf and the hated all month long on Luke’s tie. Jen Hirst loved Mel’s voice and stage presence but ripped on her looks. Colin Lewis thought we needed much more practice, and that we still sounded like a basement band. Hannah Simone brought back the “f-word-that-rhymes-with-‘maggot’” issue and used that to illustrate the point that we weren’t ready for the industry’s hardships. I don’t remember getting any positive feedback relayed to me in any of the text messages I read; obviously I wasn’t telling any of my bandmates about these messages I was getting, either. I silently prepared myself for the worst.

I could hear Much VJ Sarah Taylor’s voice announcing our return into the environment for the pronouncement of the verdict. Again, our fans were cued to roar until their lungs got sore. I was numb on the inside, no lie – our careers, our livelihoods, the life of this band… depended on this verdict. I knew what I was hoping for, but I had no idea what to expect. I also knew that no matter how much we try to fool ourselves into adopting that “no matter what, we should be proud of ourselves because we did our best” attitude, a “disband” verdict would likely be career-ending. At least for me – how the hell would I live that one down? The judges now sat in a row in front of us, smiling like cannibals do after eating an elaborate feast of roast human. They looked like they all just knocked back double shots of sheep’s blood and chased it with a bag of gunpowder. Everything pointed to the fact that this was about to suck a lot.

After we settled around the mic stand, Sarah gave us the goods without too much delay. To paraphrase her: “Okay. So. The judges love your guys’ sound, and they thought that Mel G was great.” Pause for cheers. “BUT… but, the judges also thought that your image wasn’t authentic, and that you guys may not be ready for how tough the industry can get.” Pause for acknowledgement. “Bearing all this in mind, and considering that there are countless bands out there trying to make it, the judges have agreed that Soul Plane…”

I could have made coffee in the time Sarah paused here. Like, picked the fucking beans and roasted them and all. I almost had an aneurysm.

“…HAS WHAT IT TAKES!!!”

The fans erupted in a roar that probably caused an earthquake in Australia, but I barely heard them. Mel, Kevin, Gideon, Aaron, Luke, and I folded into each other in what was perhaps our first group hug ever as a band – it was long overdue, and no other occasion would have been more appropriate. By now, you guys should have seen the episode – homegirl broke down, and I don’t blame her, we had really given this single moment everything we had. Don’t let TV fool you – during the two months we filmed, we experienced hardships that would not suit the PG rating MuchMusic gave to the show – this victory was nothing short of hard-fought. We held each other, and obviously it was a huge frenzy between the six of us as we each burst with elation, but one clear moment amidst all the blur was when Gideon and I grabbed each other and came within make-out distance of each others’ faces only to yell “OH MY FUCKING GOD GREIG NORI’S GOING TO PRODUCE US!! HE’S GOING TO!! HE HAS TO!! HE SAID SO ON CAMERA!! HOLY FUCK, WE’RE ON THE WAY!! LET’S TOUCH EACH OTHERS’ BALLS!!” We deserved it, no doubt. I ran over to Conor, Shain and Harrison standing in the shadows off to the side and hugged them harder than I’ve ever hugged my own mother. This must be what it feels like to win the World Cup, to win gold at an Olympics event, to have sex with a porn star, to be on top of the world, to be Barack Obama. I don’t even remember what happened later that night – I don’t think any of us do. All that mattered was that we had been tried, tested, and proven true by MuchMusic, in front of all our closest friends and family members, in front of our fans, and, perhaps best of all, on national television.

What more can I say?