Ever since Louis Saturnino signed on to become Soul Plane’s in-house cameraman, the band’s administrative department has been losing their shit. The last few days leading up to the photoshoot saw Conor, Louis, and myself running around like three crackheads all over Toronto scouting suitable shoot locations as well as purchasing articles of clothing to soup up/coordinate our wardrobe for the shoot. Our hurry wasn’t without justification, however; we had set picture day to be Saturday, June 7th for two main reasons: 1) we have a show on June 19th where we’re playing in front of industry professionals at the Opera House and we need the press kits we’ll be handing out to include these photos, and 2) leading up to this show after the tentative shoot date, the band will be able to actually get together and practice a total of maybe three times, which means that re-scheduling for a different day to shoot was completely out of the question.
As if all this wasn’t enough, we had picture day planned out down to a “T” : we would start early morning at a club downtown called Revival at around 10am to pretend that we’re playing to a crowd while Louis snaps away, and be at Neurotica, a vinyl record shop on Queen St. W by 12 30. We were then going to head over to Polson Pier (The Docks), take several shots around the Lakeshore Blvd area and then get to the Beaches to finish off there in time to get Patrick back to school for a show he was putting on by 6pm. We had also already mapped out what each band member would be wearing for each location. With a game plan set in stone like that, what could possibly go wrong?
Answer: Soul Plane is the fat kid that couldn’t run a lap in gym class without nearly expiring of an asthma attack, and Lady Luck is the captain of a perpetually-winning team who never picks us to play for her.
Conor calls me Friday night to tell me that Revival is no longer an option, that the guy who works the stage lights has a full time job and can’t accommodate us. Apparently, he’s the only one who knows what to do to get those lights going. This means we can’t even get pictures that make it look like we’re a band with any concert experience whatsoever. Them labels are gonna love us. Plans change immediately – we are now scheduled to meet at 10 30am at the Beaches, our new first location.
At about 11am, we get to the beaches. It is an absolute shitfestival in the parking lot – children are screaming, cars are honking, women are fainting, it’s hot, it’s humid, and the best part of it all is that there are no spaces anywhere. This is resolved immediately as Conor uses his managerial powers of negotiation (read: beg, plead, and offer blowjobs) in persuading the parking lot attendant to let us park illegally for an hour and a half to do a shoot (the reasoning that we aren’t here to swim and suntan for the whole day is good enough for him). Louis, however, has other ideas.
“Yo guy, this is really not the time or the place to shoot. The lighting is whack and there are too many people running around. We gotta come back at like, 4am tomorrow morning.”
This is ass-tastic.
We soldier on, though – there is no time to get pissed off. Next stop, Polson Pier – Louis decides he wants to get us in front of the Toronto skyline. Of course, the best shots involve us committing crimes; Louis positions us directly on a helicopter pad with the helicopter nowhere to be found. He gets Aaron to set up his drum kit right on the pad. The pilot of the chopper is gonna be real happy when he sees us prancing around like a bunch idiots where he’s supposed to be parking. We get maybe 10-15 decent shots after much time is spent trying to clean up our natural lack of visual coherence, right before the staff for the Docks’ Saturday night event come around to diplomatically remind us that this is private property, and could we please get the fuck out of here as fast as possible. We comply almost immediately, mainly because we’re happy to leave before they find a way to put us in jail for trespassing.
We then go to a dump near the pier to take more pictures. I can’t really elaborate on this without making us look like even bigger assholes than we do now. At least we feel at home.
By 2 30pm we’re at a record shop at Queen and Bathurst called Neurotica. This is the first time fate cooperates with us all day – Louis wants to get pictures of us digging through crates. Fortunately we receive the store owner’s blessing to proceed, and Louis makes quick work of this location. The band splits up by 3pm, to rejoin again by 3 30am Sunday morning – that’s if it doesn’t start raining. At 10pm Saturday night, theweathernetwork.ca gives us a 70% P.O.P. reading. This could be bad.
By 4am Sunday morning, we are on Lakeshore Blvd and thankfully, there’s no rain to ruin everything. Louis wants to take some pictures of the band posing on the street. With his back to oncoming traffic, he makes us responsible for warning him about any cars coming our way. Between each wave of cars, we manage to pose for several shots. Louis then decides to experiment with light refraction using his camera, and we are content to be his guinea pig – he tells us to just get on the street, jump around and flail our arms. I can’t decide who’s dumber – him for suggesting it or us for doing it. Turns out it’s us. I go from worrying about prison yesterday morning to worrying about death this morning – we only narrowly escape it several times in the span of the 10 minutes we spend playing chicken with automobiles for the sake of our press packages.
After a couple more shots at the Polson Pier of Soul Plane in front of a Toronto night skyline at around 4 45am, this time without event staff interference, Louis rushes us back to Woodbine Beach in time for sunrise at around 5 30-6am. We spend an hour and a half here taking a countless amount of shots with different backdrops. He’s got his work cut out for him – I know for a fact that by this time we look more like creatures out of a Resident Evil feature than members of a band trying to get somewhere in life – Photoshop most definitely needs to be in effect. We are barely responsive to Louis’ instructions. Louis, on the other hand, seems to be in tip top form at this hour. For real, you can’t even pay for this kind of dedication from any photographer, let alone one of Louis’ calibre and level of professionalism.
As we pack it in, it starts to rain – lightly, at first, but as we make our way back uptown, it pours mercilessly. I’m talkin’ Wild Water Kingdom. Whatever – misfortune might have won a few battles here and there, but Soul Plane still prevailed and rallied to bring it home victorious at the end of the day (or, in this case, at the start of the day). I can’t help but smile as I realize this. Actually, that’s a lie; smiling is a no-go right now... my livelihood is barely intact. It’s more of a light twitch, a pure reflex action at this point – we’ve been up for 24 hours trying to look alive for a camera lens. Gratitude requires energy that I currently cannot afford to expend. Depleted, defeated, but feeling damn good I fall into Kevin’s basement couch at 8am, not to be stirred from my slumber for the next 5 measly-ass hours. Then it’s back to business for Soul Plane. I love this shit.
Photos to come when our health is no longer at risk from over-exhaustion.
