Black Box Pt. V

Once again back it’s the incredible.

This time around, we had everything planned to the tits. Nothing short of a third world war could stop us from executing a record that we would be proud of, and even then. We had been granted a second chance by the highest heavens to make things right, and by any and all powers we believe in, we were NOT going to fuck this one up. Tonight, we had with us all the best equipment Long and McQuade had in stock. Today, we had slept in until past noon and napped after several run-throughs of our songs to ensure that we would be well-rested for the red-eye flight. Tonight, we hit up California Sandwiches and had a solid meal as a band after purchasing a crate of snacks from Sobey’s, so as to maintain energy and nourishment for the overnight session. Today, we put our nuts on the table. Tonight, the winner takes all.

8 00pm: Soul Plane touches down at California Sandwiches.

8 05pm: Orders are placed.

8 07pm: Aaron is teased mercilessly for not getting sauce with his sandwich.

8 15pm: Gideon, Kevin, and Patrick sit away at a separate table from Aaron because he didn’t get sauce. I sit with Aaron, but I question both his manhood and his sexual orientation out loud. Aaron has his period and violently tells everyone to shut the fuck up.

8 55pm: We finish eating and head over to Machinehead Studio. Harrison pulls in as we do.

9 00pm: Harrison gets right to work setting the boys up. As he’s in the recording room setting up the drum set, he and I get talking about the school and the charity that Soul Plane and Machinehead Studio are starting up together.

9 05pm: I lay out the idea that we should focus on the school first to get the Machinehead name out there as a business before we bring out our philanthropic side, otherwise people are going to confuse our priorities and think we’re a charity before we’re a business, and that is a definite no-no. Even for the underprivileged, there is no free lunch – the money has to come from somewhere.

9 30pm: The drum kit Aaron will be using is just about set up – Harrison fixes up the last hi-hat.

9 35pm: Speaking of high, Aaron, Gideon, their friend Mikey, and Kevin are exactly that and then some, hazing up the control room with weed smoke. I am jealous that I have to keep up appearances of professionalism and not dive right for the bong.

9 37pm: Harrison suggests we join them. Nevermind about professionalism, this guy’s a Jewish Ms. Cleo.

10 00pm: Baked like chicken that you shake, everybody lights up cigarettes in the parking lot as Dave strolls in. He doesn’t wait around after greeting everyone; this is a man on a mission.

10 02pm: Dave makes a bee-line for the recording room and immediately starts setting up the microphones being used to record the drums.

10 20pm: What started out as a mere drum set now looks like some kind of pod, surrounded by mics and wires and stands, ready to be launched out of an alien’s asshole in the latest Lucas/Spielberg shitburger of a film (and why, despite multi-million-dollar special effects, does Harrison Ford’s face still look like old pudding?).

10 30pm: After a final tune-up, Dave gets Aaron into the recording room to bang away at the drums so that he can test levels. Aaron obliges and it sounds like a gunfight broke out in that room for the next 45 minutes.

10 31pm: Harrison and I start talking business about the school. We work productively in 10-minute intervals, interspersed with hitting bowls and smoking cigarettes. Incidentally, the quality of our work plummets as the night progresses, but not before we get the important shit (curriculum/advertising plans) down on paper (and photocopied for safekeeping).

11 05pm: As we hang out in the control room without Aaron, Gideon makes a note to me that it’s 11 05pm and we are not yet recording.

11 10pm: Harrison sits Gideon down to advise him that he should feel really blessed to be part of a band full of older people, and as Gideon agrees, Harrison points at me and says, “...and the fact that you’re with this guy... I don’t know if you know but this guy is fucking crazy.” Gideon gives Harrison a look like, “Wow! Thanks! It’s not like I’ve been in a band with this guy for a year or anything! How long have you known Yui for, you dick?” I know better than to take sides, but just to make it clear, I’m eternally grateful to be able to work with everyone in Soul Plane as well. These kids is talented.

11 28pm: Gideon checks the time out loud, followed by a passing note that we are not yet recording.

11 42pm: We are still not recording.

11 45pm: There is light at the end of the tunnel as Dave returns to the control room to get Gideon and Kevin’s stacks set up.

11 47pm: Harrison asks what guitars Gideon and Kev are using, and before getting any real answers, he offers up his entire guitar collection (apparently, from what I hear, a very expensive/exclusive one) for Soul Plane use. Soul Plane’s guitarists are flattered, but opt to stick with what they know after a few test runs.

12 10am: Patrick finally gets called in. This whole time he’s been sitting there eating snacks, I’ve forgotten that he was with us. I decide that Patrick would make an excellent ninja.

12 20am: With everyone tuned up and ready to go, the click track comes on and the guys finally kick off the recording session with “Impossible.”

12 21am: This is where Harrison and I stop being productive altogether... Soul Plane plays so tightly that we can’t help putting our pens down to just listen (and get high).

1 15am: After what feels like eight run-throughs of “Impossible,” Dave decides he’s got enough to work with, and that we can move on. This is going to be a long night and an even longer morning.

1 17am: Bowls.

1 24am: Back to business with “Soul Playin’,” the other energetic song we want to get out of the way so as to take it real easy as the night wears on.

1 45am: Dave still does not have a good take of this song. For some reason no one can stay on beat in the first verse. I remind the band that we are slowly but steadily defeating the purpose of our own “energy conservation” strategy. They remind me to shut the fuck up please and thank you.

2 06am: One decent take recorded. Dave needs at least three to have enough to work with.

2 25am: Miraculously, they finally get another take down that Dave is complacent with.

2 37am: Third time is the charm – the boys come out for bowls and a listen to the best take of the track they just recorded. We soldier on...

2 45am: Several bowls and cigarettes later, we’re back to the grindstone. The boys start recording “Liquor on the Curb,” and at this point Harrison can’t take it anymore – he just wants to find a nice place to collapse into and not get up from for a long time. He excuses himself for the night. I envy him.

3 22am: Countless takes later, the boys are finally satisfied with what they’ve done with “Liquor on the Curb” and they come out, give it a quick listen, and get right to “No Worries.” Kevin gives me the keys to his car and orders me to go on a coffee run. I can’t say “no” – these guys are actively decreasing their individual life expectancies pulling an all-nighter like this.

3 30am: Mikey and I head out to Tim Horton’s.

3 40am: Mikey carries the entire order by himself to the car, and the rest of the way back. Good kid.

4 05am: We get back to Machinehead Studio as the boys round off “No Worries.” Last but not least... “Life is Beautiful.” I’m not so sure I agree with the title of the song at this hour. I didn’t know an hour like this even existed. I feel like Harrison Ford looks.

4 15am: Bowls. I beg the guys to start playing. They didn’t even have the energy to tell me “no.” Kevin looks like he could use a defibrillator shock to the chest, but begs to wait another five minutes to hit the ceremonial “4 20” bowl. I shoot him a look like I’m about to go Agent 47 on his ass. He doesn’t argue.

4 55am: FIN. “Life is Beautiful” gets wrapped up, and the sun is shining bright. Dave helps us clean up and pack, and politely tells us to “get the fuck out.” I’ve never wanted to follow an order so badly in my life – I’m so tired I can’t feel my face.

At the end of the day, we handled our business. The bottom line is that now we have a product we can stand behind, one we’re excited all over again to release (as opposed to before when we thought we’d have to run with those cooked garbage instrumentals).

I can’t wait to hear how all this is going to turn out; I will keep you posted as I apply full-court pressure on Dave with ceaseless harassments to get me a song or two for you guys to hear... most likely, though, you’ll have to wait until our show.

Speaking of which... June 19^th (see Upcoming Events section for details) Soul Plane will be live at the Opera House. Don’t sleep through this or we will make sure you never wake up. And if you do, it’ll be after Gideon farts on your pillow. This is entirely undesirable. Trust me.

Photo Ops

The funny thing about networking is that you almost never need the services the guy is qualified to perform the minute you meet him. I honestly believe that those mindful of the long term are fully aware of this trend, and as such, they know to file away the specific skill that each person introduced to them has to offer for a potential future calling-on. Although I know better than to categorize myself as a long-term thinker, I also know better than to let a flagrant opportunity go un-molested.

When I first met Louis several years ago at Conor’s house I was drunk out of my mind. I mean, to the point of blacking out. I was babbling some shit to him about a fat girl who was also at Conor’s, and he was laughing. I was probably drooling. It was eons ago. I remember he drove a white, pimped-out Acura coup with 20” rims and tinted windows, but that’s about it. Shit, it was a party, what do you want from me?

Good thing Louis doesn’t take first impressions seriously. When he later found out that Conor was managing Soul Plane’s career, he volunteered his services over the course of the winter season:

“Hey, I don’t know if Conor told you this, but right now I’m going to school... Ryerson, for film.”
“Say word.”
“Yeah, man. Photography, video, I do all that stuff. I know you got that band thing going... I was thinking if you needed any work done I’d be able to help out...”
“Wow, man, that’s big of you. I really appreciate that. No lie, though, Soul Plane’s kinda going through some shit right now, but once I have everything under control again I will give you a shout. We’ll definitely need new pictures, and some new video would be great, too.”
“No problem, homie, if you’re Conor’s boy you’re my boy. I need to add some of this to my portfolio too, so as long as you’re okay with that...”
“I don’t care if you stamp these pictures on rolls of toilet paper. Anything to get our name out there. I just need them for the new website we’re gonna have up soon as well as our EPK when our demo drops.”

It may have seemed like I was putting him off at the time, but I knew I’d need this guy’s help further down the line. If I wasn’t smart enough to know right then exactly when I’d need Louis, I was smart enough to get his number down on my phone. I called on him recently and took him up on his offer, and he was more than happy to come through. He informed me proudly that not only had he gotten much better at this media production business since we had last spoke, but also that he had started his own media company called Touch Productions. We’ve scheduled a photoshoot for the beginning of June, hopefully to be wrapped up before our first show on the 19^th (which Louis will also be doing video for). If everything works out, Louis could very well become Soul Plane’s in-house media go-to guy, if he’ll so do us the honour of accepting that position.

On a related note, Soul Plane needs to go shopping. We are in serious need of some clothes that make us look together on stage. This means no more buying button-ups from K-Marts bargain bins. As focused on the musical aspect of this experience as we are, we’re not completely oblivious to the fact that we need to look good. And if not good, at least somewhat more like a band and not so much like a line-up at the local soup kitchen. The visual presentation of Soul Plane has been an issue that has needed to be addressed since last summer, but this summer I’ve got it on lock: we are stepping up our dress-to-impress game and I’ve enlisted the help of several trusted friends (mostly female) to help coordinate our wardrobe.

Once we do our rounds all over Toronto’s finest malls with money our budget is most definitely not covering, we’ll be ready for the cameras (even though they’ll only be flashing to take our mugshots). The best of Louis’ work will be put into a folder, neat little package with our demo tucked in it, along with Conor’s business card and Soul Plane’s contact information, ready to be handed out as a press kit to any label that doesn’t immediately blacklist us when Conor calls.

The bottom line is that while we still have a long way to go in tightening the screws of the starship enterprise that is Soul Plane whether it is on a musical, aesthetic, promotional/marketing or networking level, I want everyone to know we are well on our way. Remember the Power Rangers? We’re kinda like them: we know that what we’re about to take on is much bigger than the sum of our parts, so we’ve gotta make a collective effort to morph into something other than a pile of shit – preferably, a Megazord. The only issue with Soul Plane’s version of the Power Rangers, though, is that we’re currently waiting for the Pink Ranger to turn 18 so that we won’t get pimp-slapped with a lawsuit for showing her in cleavage-exposing, breast-enhancing clothing, you perverts.

That analogy could potentially have made sense, but Katherine (Soul Plane’s professional blog-reader) is rushing me to put this blog up, leaving me no time to explain myself. If you feel cheated by this, feel free to take the issue up with her.

Hint: Katherine is not our Pink Ranger.

Thanks For All The Fish

I would just like to express appreciation on behalf of Soul Plane to all our fans and listeners for giving the music a chance in the first place. The feedback has been positive at best, constructive at worst. We’re still working, but thanks to you guys, we’re well on our way...

GHOST!

Soundclick Charts 05-23 at 10:40am – a week (give or take a day or two) after the songs went up:

Keep bumping these babies like sex with pregnant women!

Back At It Again

“Yui. I really think we need to talk to Dave about re-recording the instruments for the demo... this is absolutely horrible. We’re so much tighter since Aaron started playing with a metronome...”

“Gideon. There’s no way I’m talking to Dave about that. The guy’s already gonna have to be working around the clock getting Melanie recorded, and the fact that he’s letting us do that alone is a huge favour. We can’t just strongarm.”

- Exchange between Gideon and I on the subject of re-recording instruments after Melanie had started recording “Impossible.”

“Yui, I really think we need to talk to the whole band about re-recording the instruments for the demo... this is absolutely amazing. We need to bring the calibre of the instruments up to the calibre of the vocals we got now.”

- Dave, producer extraordinaire, after Melanie had finished recording “Liquor on the Curb.”

I’m not sure I’m man enough to try and predict what Dave’s intentions are for this demo, but I’m sure they exist. Ever since Melanie recorded her vocals for “Impossible” and “Liquor on the Curb,” Dave suddenly decided that it was necessary to re-record the instrumentals for his vision to be realized. In his plan, it was also deemed a priority that all instrumentalists step their gear game up: Gideon and Kevin were to rent Marshall JCM stacks, Patrick was to get a Fender Jazz bass guitar, and Aaron was to leave his entire drum kit at home and just use one that Dave would make available.

When everyone heard that we were getting a chance to re-do the instruments, they had a lot to say:

“YESSSSSS, man. Siiiiiiick.”

- Gideon

“Uh! Nice!”

- Aaron

“Oh no way. That is awesome. We’re gonna fucking kill this, dude.”

- Patrick

“Oh really? That’s fucking sick, man.”

- Kevin

“Sweet, man. I’ll be there around 4am when I’m done work.”

- Ed

“I won’t be here. I hope that’s okay. I’m so sorry.”

- Melanie

I can’t wait to do a radio interview with these guys; I wonder how many people will be able to tell that we’re actually educated when they hear us.

At any rate, we’re all very excited (all over again) for this demo, and so you should be as well. The demo is still coming out by the end of June, and most of the tracks will be available for mp3 streaming and upload. Please stand by...

Wonder Woman

Harrison Hennick is a man of solution, and it has nothing to do with contact lenses or science class. When word got to him that Soul Plane was in search of a new vocalist, he had someone in mind that he knew was just perfect for the sound we were trying to achieve. In his words from a voice message he left:

”Hey man, I got a girl for Soul Plane if you guys are still looking… I think she can really kill it. I just dropped her a Facebook message telling her about you guys. I used to jam with her with my own band and I’m probably going to be recording her this summer. She’s got a real smooth, soulful voice; I think you’ll love it… it’s definitely gonna fit the music. Anyway, get back to me when you get a chance and we’ll talk about it some more. Peace.”

Maybe it’s the several years of hands-on, ears-on training they receive at schools like Trebas, Harris, and Metalworks; maybe it’s the fact that they’ve worked with so many different artists and bands after setting themselves up that they’ve come to learn the secret to defining “good and bad” in such a subjective domain; whatever it is, there’s something about a qualified studio engineer’s opinion that makes it sovereign.

So get back to him I did. The result? BAM. Everyone gets it in the shorts.

Melanie is a powerhouse. I have never in my life seen someone sing so much, so tirelessly over such a short period of time. From Soul Plane practices to Machinehead recording sessions to recording sessions at Vlad’s studio in Waterloo, Melanie has more than clearly put it in my face that she is a force to be reckoned with – the last time I saw someone with this much vocal stamina I was alone in a house of mirrors.

In the three short weeks I’ve had to get to know her, she’s already done up two new radio singles with Soul Plane (“Impossible” and “Liquor on the Curb”), recorded a third track (“Life is Beautiful”), learned enough of our material to play a showcase set with us, and put the last piece of the puzzle that is my solo demo in place for the final master. Appointments have already been made with Machinehead to finish recording the rest of the vocals for the demo for when she gets back from her trip on June 1^st. I can honestly say that I am intimidated, almost to the point of feeling emasculated, by her dedication, productivity, and efficiency. On the other hand, it feels good to have someone on the team as enthusiastic about the music as the rest of us are. I’m emotionally confused – this must be what pregnancy feels like.

The funny thing is that she’s been sick throughout most of these recordings with a bad cold, but the material she’s been throwing at us thus far has been nothing short of quality. This means that when she’s at 100% she will steamroll your face. Seriously, she’s recorded sick with both Dave and Vlad, and neither studio engineers really felt it was bad enough to call it an early night. In fact, they only pushed her harder to get the most out of her (but never as hard as she pushed herself), and their efforts were not in vain. In fact, her vocals for the Soul Plane tracks were so hot that it made Dave call the band back in to re-record all the instrumentals for a May 24^th-25^th, overnight session (join us if you have the balls) so that the instrumental caliber/tightness would match those of the new vocals. That’s how good she was. I know it’s only been three weeks, but this girl has proven time and time again that despite her current poor health conditions and despite her busy-ass schedule (during the entire 1.5hr-long ride from Waterloo back to Toronto, she was text messaging her friends to make plans for the night. She took her eyes off her Blackberry maybe once. To sneeze.), she can still come through in spades for us.

On a performance level, I don’t think Soul Plane has anything to worry about, either: Melanie is on the mainstream hip hop dance team at the University of Western Ontario, and gyrates her pelvis with them four times a week during the school year. Clearly this means she’s got some concept of stage presence, rhythmic movement, and energy – I’m confident she can bring it on if the music’s right (and I’ve been told it is).

But oopsy, there’s that whole distance thing again (the very same reason Blythe had to bounce). Fortunately, I’m able to list off a few reasons why we’re not too worried about it: she is my age, 21, going into her final year of university. Provided she doesn’t flunk out, she’s only got eight more months of being in London, ON from Sept ’08 onwards, and then she’s back in Toronto for a good chunk of time. During those eight months, she’ll be fully mobile and has already promised to come home at least twice a month for practices and any extra time that’s needed for recordings and shows. The only time she said she might have to duck out is during midterm season and exams, but even I duck out then, and I work around the clock for this band. Sure, the future’s uncertain, but based on the observations stated above, I’m going to give her more than just the benefit of doubt.

On the drive home from Waterloo, Melanie confided in me that before Soul Plane came around, she was ready to shift her life’s focus away from singing completely. That would have been the ultimate in sad states of affairs. She proceeded to tell me that the studio experiences and the practice sessions have been a crucial factor in restoring her faith in herself, and in music. I replied by telling her about how this winter has been real depressing for the band, not having shows and not having a present vocalist, that any lesser of a band would have gotten discouraged and split up. I could tell by her reaction that she knew as well as I did that if Soul Plane re-ignited the spark that would eventually build into a passionate fire for music in her, she did the exact same for us. I mean, seriously, the last time we’ve been this excited as a band, I was on the verge of punching a crackhead in the jaw outside the Rancho Relaxo after the Art Jam.

We’re coming, y’all.

Long Distance Relationships Never Work Out

Right when Daniel Paiken took leave of Soul Plane early September of ’07, Gideon took over the lead guitar position and Patrick filled what used to be Gideon’s shoes as a bassist. We also made moves to take Kevin off the keyboard completely so that he could focus his attention on being a rhythmic counterpart to Gideon’s lines. This near-complete renovation of our roster and their respective positions brought a change to our sound that no one could have foreseen.

First came the funk, then came the groove. Suddenly, the music had a vibe, a tone, a definition, an ambiance, a direction. Considering the fact that Aaron (drums) and I were the only two members of the band that were left untouched in the whole cabinet shuffle, Soul Plane was pretty much re-building the music from scratch. Patrick joined us armed with a jazz/blues background, so the basslines started really hitting hard, giving a lot more strength to the songs. Gideon’s guitar playing is very soulful-bluesy by nature, and the songs he composed (“Welcome to T-Dot City,” “Funk With It,” “Impossible”) are all powerfully energetic with driving, often-distorted riffs.

All these turning points in the musical direction of our band took place as Blythe was leaving Toronto for her first year of university at Queen’s, in Kingston, a city three hours away. As we parted ways, I wondered if we would be able to deal with the looming reality of our vocalist having to spend eight months out of the year, for the next four years (the time it would take to finish her undergrad program), three hours away from where Soul Plane band practices are held. I had faith, though, that Blythe would be able to keep up with the music, despite the incredibly fast pace at which we pumped our tracks out.

As a result of this faith, Kevin and I invested in a four-track mixer that we said we would use to record rough mixes of new songs to send to Blythe via email, so that she in turn could use them to practice or to write lyrics with. In addition to all this, Blythe assured us that she would come home one weekend a month for practices. Over the school year, however, I was hardly able to get in touch with Blythe once a month to find out if she was even coming home that particular month – whether it was by calling, text-messaging, MSN, Facebook, or email, communication between Soul Plane and Blythe was at an all-time low. I’d have to be mentally challenged to think she would have time to write to new riffs or practice on her own.

After the Black Box recording sessions and one or two practices together throughout the year (we were far from achieving the once-a-month practices we were hoping to get with Blythe after school started), it became apparent that Blythe’s voice and Soul Plane’s instrumentation had parted ways. As well trained as she is, as well practiced as she is, Blythe’s vocal background is in classical/opera and because of this, her graceful, melodic soprano voice lacked the power that Soul Plane now needed. Paiken’s leave prompted a metamorphic change for Soul Plane; we revamped our sound, and because Blythe wasn’t physically present for much of these changes, she was by default excluded in the adaptation process everyone else underwent.

In short, the distance between us had finally taken its toll, and although her absence did make our hearts grow fonder (even if it was for no reason other than the fact that practices sounded simply shitty without a vocalist), we had our music to think about… Blythe had to go. There was just no way any member of the band could spend eight months out of the year away from everything and come back in and fit right… and there was no way Soul Plane would be willing to rinse and repeat what we dealt with (no vocalist = take forever for vocal lines to be recorded for demo = we never get shows because Conor has nothing to promote us with because the demo’s never coming out = no one knows/cares what we’re about = low band morale = shitty vocal-less practices = band dilapidation = homelessness) over the winter season this year for the next three years, which is exactly the time it’d take for Blythe to get her degree. That’s plain nutty.

I want to make it clear right now to everyone that Blythe’s de-boarding from Soul Plane is no reflection on her skills and talents as a singer, or her personality as a friend. She is hands-down one of the best singers I’ve ever worked with as well as one of the most dedicated and flexible people I’ve ever met. Blythe literally, single-handedly screwed on the final bolt that first became Soul Plane: when Kevin played his riff for “Fly” on the piano that first night, and she came with her rendition of the chorus, we knew we had something magical that we had to hold onto at all costs. She’s what made me stick with Soul Plane in the first place (I’ve always felt that female vocalists are the shit and often so necessary in a band). People will continue to hear her, if on nothing else on my solo work where the beat calls for a Mariah Carey rather than a Fergie or a Mary J. Blige. Any rapper/vocalist, band, producer, label should feel so lucky to work with her; I know I did. This move was strictly business, and I think Blythe is smart enough to realize and accept the fact that this was inevitable. It’s just not reasonable to try to force a square peg into a circular slot, but give Blythe a square slot where’s she’ll fit proper and watch what the girl does with it – it’ll fuck you right up.

How Soul Plane Got Me A Date

People who take public transport are usually degenerate. I know this because I do, and I’m a degenerate. Most designated waiting platforms are depressing, dimly lit, looking something like the hallway of a psychiatric ward after visiting hours are up, with advertisements left and right for products you don’t care to know about, let alone spend money on. Sometimes there’ll be a homeless man sleeping on the bench you had at one point hoped to sit on to rest your weary feet, but never mind that, because if you wake the hobo up to move him over, he’ll only harass you for change you don’t have anyway.

Once you step into the car of a train, a variety of elements is sure to rape one or all five of the human senses. Sometimes it’s the smell, usually a deadly combination of body odour, cheap fragrance, and day-long stale take-out and coffee. Sometimes it’s the people – most of them are not attractive. They also hate you because they have to ride the subway. Sometimes it’s the kid who won’t shut the hell up, and the mother who won’t shut the hell up when you, on behalf of all TTC commuters within earshot, tell the kid to shut the hell up. Sometimes it’s the fat fuck who can’t fit properly on one seat and invades your personal space by squishing you in and falling asleep on your shoulder during a long ride and then drooling on your shirt. Sometimes it’s the fact that the TTC doesn’t believe that any outside temperature under 30°C is worth turning on the air conditioning for. Sometimes it’s all of the above, and when it is, it is the worst.

But not today. Today she was smiling at me from her window seat as the northbound train was taking me home after a long day of schooling. When we made eye contact, she quickly diverted her attention to her cell phone. She was gorgeous. Long, blonde hair, green eyes, and real pretty lips were the first things I noticed. And then my eyes flew south and I couldn’t help but notice that she had a figure to match. I tried not to stare – not because it’s rude to, but more because I didn’t want her thinking that I was a repeated sex offender. At least not right away.

But how the hell do you start talking to a girl in the subway? The usual nightclub/bar pick-up lines would most definitely fall flat: sentences such as, “Hey honey, come here often?” and “This is lame, let’s get outta here,” are not what girls want to hear on a subway. I know this because the time I tried it I got maced. I had to focus, re-group and re-strategize. I noticed that she had her iPod going and she was really feeling the music that was coming out of it, whatever it was. I also noticed that I, too, had my mp3 player from like, 8 years ago going (told you I was degenerate), and suddenly Soul Plane comes on. I then knew what I had to do to open this girl. I went and sat down beside her, but I made sure there was an empty seat in between us (that whole sex offender vibe thing), and then I put my bag between us (so no one could take that empty seat).

We made eye contact again, and this time I smiled back, and capitalized:

Yui: Hey, you got a quick second?
Girl (taking off her earbuds, still smiling): Oh, I’m sorry?
Yui: My bad. I was just hoping to get your opinion on something, on a song. Think you can help me out?
Girl: Sure! I’d love to!
Yui: ...but first, let me give you a background story. I’ve been rapping for a while now, you know, the shit you hear on the radio, the shit you’re probably listening to right now on your iPod there.
Girl: Haha, well I’m not really a fan of radio hip hop today. It all sounds the same to me, like I mean, it’s good party music, you can dance to it, but ehhh, I’m more into music music, if you know what I mean.

I do know what you mean. I also know that there is a God in heaven and He’s playing my wingman right now.

Yui: Well that’s the thing. I kinda got sick of it, too. Actually, it blows. I’d give anything to be back in the mid-nineties when Nas, Jay-Z were just coming out, before Biggie and Tupac were shot, all that shit. A Tribe Called Quest...
Girl: OH MY GOD I LOOOOOVE Q-TIP.

Unreal.

Yui: Whoa. Impressive.
Girl: Haha, my brother absolutely loves rap... the good kind, though. He blasts it all over the house whenever he’s home. My mom knows lyrics you probably don’t.
Yui: I believe it. Tell her I’m anticipating her mixtape release.

She let out a laugh, probably the most melodious laugh I’ve ever heard. I was already writing lyrics to it. She introduced herself as Stacy. I introduced myself as well, feeding her the overused line that she’ll never get my name right the first time (“YUI. You-ee. Y-U-I. Look on your keyboard, it’s three letters right beside each other. My parents weren’t very creative, but they were sure observant and practical.” Gets a laugh maybe a quarter of the time.). I am suddenly aware of many people (mostly guys) staring at me, probably wondering what divine intervention helped me muster up the courage to talk to this beauty. Their guesses are every bit as good as mine.

Yui: So since I started getting sick of rap and where it was going, I got sick of rapping myself. The game just wasn’t fresh anymore, I guess. I don’t know. But last summer I started rapping with this live band, and that’s what brings me here now.
Stacy: Whoa, that sounds like it’d be awesome!
Yui: Well, that’s where you come in. I need you to tell me if it is, in fact, awesome or not. And then I need you to tell me the degree of awesomeness it has reached on the awesome meter.
Stacy: Stop making fun of me!
Yui: Here, just listen.

As she put on my headphones, she narrowed her eyes and gave me this jokingly reproachful look that almost brought out the sex offender in me (again). I set the mp3 player to play “Impossible” followed by “Liquor on the Curb,” and 45 seconds into the song, it begins:

Stacy: Oh whaaaaaaaaaat. Is this really you?
Yui: Guilty as charged.
Stacy: This is soooo hot.
Yui: Really? So you’d buy a CD of this?
Stacy: I could drink a whole case of this stuff.
Yui: Keep listening... if you can, listen to this one and one more. They’re real different, and I want to make sure everything sounds together as far as your opinion is concerned.
Stacy: Oh, of course, I’d love to.

Stacy took the mp3 player from my hands and left me sitting there with my thumbs up my ass. As she got lost in the music, I furtively glanced at her every 10 seconds or so to try to gauge a reaction. She seemed like she was enjoying it. Now I had to find a way to make her enjoy me. Thankfully, as I was still trying to plan my words out, she set me up for the kill right as she finished listening to the tracks:

Stacy: That was fucking amazing. My awesomenesss meter just... off the hook.
Yui: Haha, it’s always nice to have a new fan.
Stacy: Has this been on the radio? Do you guys ever perform live anywhere? I’d love to come watch this happen.
Yui: You’re moving up from fan to groupie status real quick, huh?
Stacy (smiling mischievously): Maybe.
Yui: Seriously though, we’re playing at the Reverb on June 18^th, you should come check us.
Stacy: Oh really? Is it an event or something?
Yui: More of a showcase. We’re kinda in a shitty situation though... reps from Sony and BMG are going to be there and we have nothing to show for anything... they give us 30 minutes of their time after we play to present ourselves, and we’re supposed to have press kits to give them, but there’s not a chance that’ll happen... we’re still in the midst of recording songs.
Stacy: Well, whatever, you have this. They’re dumb if they don’t take you for this. Just show them what you showed me.
Yui: Eh, hopefully. We’ll have to make a good-ass impression on stage, that’s for sure.

As we talked about the show on the 18^th that she ended up marking down in her planner, we pulled out of York Mills station. The subway driver announces that the next station coming up would be Sheppard.

Yui: Oh, yo, where are you getting off?
Stacy: Sheppard. You?
Yui: Finch. Shit, you’re out, huh?
Stacy: You going to miss me?
Yui: I just want you at my show. Also your friends. The more the merrier.
Stacy: I’ve known you for maybe 15 minutes and you’re already using me?
Yui: Here, take my number and our website. You’ll need advance tickets if you’re cheap like I am.
Stacy: No. You take MY number and MY Facebook. That way, if I never talk to you again, I’ll know why.
Yui: Ha, fair enough. I don’t do that Facebook thing, but Soul Plane’s on it. Gimme MSN.
Stacy: Okay, but I will take that website though if it has anything interesting on it.

Man, is she ever in for a surprise. I also took the opportunity to extend to her an open invitation to band practices and recording sessions, both of which she immediately said she was looking forward to. As she ripped out a page of her planner, wrote her info down and walked out of the car at Sheppard, we got up to hug and she pecked me lightly on the cheek and told me to call her. If I wasn’t still in the subway and without reception, I would have. Like, right away. It then dawned on me that this Soul Plane-aided pick-up was definitely blog-worthy. It also dawned on me that if I stayed in touch with her (as I plan to), she’ll read the story online. This oughta be good.

Bear With Us

To all our readers: due to a small problem that arose with my laptop (it exploded), there will be no updates or posts until next week. Please bear with us, and I apologize on behalf of Soul Plane if you have nothing better to do with your life than read about some band that's never going anywhere in life.

More seriously, though, keep checking back because HUGE updates are on their way - I'm talking about a several-posts-a-week type of thing if I manage to find time between my strictly-enforced daily routine of eating, farting, and touching myself.

Please don’t leave.