| |
The announcement came some time ago. Year of the Rabbit, the newest project
from musical mastermind Ken Andrews and his brethren of equally-talented co-conspirators,
was heading out on a full-blown tour. No Vancouver date was scheduled originally
(though there was a brief moment where a low-key Vancouver show was announced,
then swiftly taken away again), but they were heading to Seattle. I couldn’t
let them sneak past me, so I gathered up a few friends, hooked up with another
group of people equipped with a vehicle and a similarly healthy love of everything
Andrews has ever done, and hightailed it to America for a night of music.
We had a brief snafu at the border when a lazy guard couldn’t be bothered
to walk around the vehicle and look in the door to check all of our passports.
We had to park, head into the customs office, and each be grilled by an officer
on our occupations and plans for the day. It was more of an inconvenience than
anything, but with some fancy driving, we still made it to the band’s
in-store performance at Easy Street Records with a few minutes to spare. There
actually weren’t that many people at the in-store, which admittedly surprised
me a bit. The only thing hampering the viewing was the layout of the store shelves,
but it didn’t take much to sneak past them to snap a few shots. Just after
6:30, a half-lowered metal rolling door was hoisted upwards, and Year of the
Rabbit launched into a four-song electronic set. The crowd was politely attentive,
heads nodding, pleasant smiles on their faces. Even though it was not a very
awe-inspiring setting in which to first see the band, I have to admit to being,
nonetheless, rather awed by being at the feet of so much creativity at long
last.
Following the brief venture, we were again informed of the Studio 7 show that
evening, and told that the band would be on hand at the front of the store to
sign autographs. I took the opportunity to purchase the album, and joined part
of my crew in moving through the band’s receiving line with a store-provided
promo poster. I was a bit weirded out by that experience. I’m not generally
one for autograph-seeking, unless I have some really good reason for it, but
in this case, I just wanted a chance to cross paths with the band, since I didn’t
know if the opportunity would arise again at the show. Being ushered quickly
past them all, I was at a loss for anything terribly intelligent to say, but
there were a few words exchanged, and that’s really all I could ask for
at the time. We all went out of the store and looked at what weird eyeballs
and hairdos the band member had drawn on themselves on the posters, and then
tried to decide on an appropriate restaurant to have dinner at. While trying
to choose between the Thai place and the English pub directly across the street
from the record store, the entire YOTR band and entourage slowly started making
their way past us, loudly chattering about how they were going to eat at “that
Thai place”… Not wanting to appear as though we were directly following
the band everywhere, we vetoed that one. The English pub was too pricey, and
nothing down the next side street caught our fancy.
After a bit of wandering around, we finally found another Thai restaurant called
Phuket. Dinner was amusing to say the least. In addition to the name of the
establishment becoming the trip’s official running joke, none of us seemed
perfectly satisfied with the meals we ordered, and everyone ended up picking
bits of food off of everyone else’s plates. I ended up with the world’s
biggest bowl of soup, the spicy factor of the food was drawing beads of sweat
out of everyone’s foreheads, and the vermicelli noodles were deemed “Jell-O”,
and thereby somehow inedible. Phuket – you’ve mispronounced the
name. You’ve had your picture taken with the sign. Now buy the T-shirt.
Apparently the actual pronounciation of the place is “Poo-get”,
which really isn’t much better. But anyhow…
Dinner complete, we set out to find the evening’s venue, Studio 7. We
located it in a spooky, movie-setting-like industrial area full of corrugated
steel buildings and mysterious behemoth chunks of metal. We parked the van in
a gravel lot mere steps from the venue and wandered in. Even though a huge sign
above the … um… concierge desk indicated that no large bags were
permitted into the venue, nobody questioned the camera bag slung around my shoulder.
Inside, the room was actually laid out pretty interestingly. It was an all-ages
show, but a set of stairs led up to a second-level balcony that covered approximately
half the floor area. ID’s were checked at the bottom of those stairs,
and at the top, a bar was serving up alcohol for pretty decent prices. It was
a nice vantage point at the edge of the balcony, but space was limited, and
being so high up, it was way too hot to hang out up there, so after checking
it out thoroughly, we wandered back down to the floor level. There was an enormous
neon sign hanging off the corner of the balcony. That was just… neat.
The floor level was pretty toasty as well, but better than up top. Unbeknownst
to me that early on, we had already missed The Divorce’s set, which is
sort of a shame, because I actually rather liked the small taste I had of them
at the New Music West festival this year. Phuket! If you feel like giving them
a look anyhow, you can do so at http://www.thedivorce.net. The second band on,
Cardia, was awfully impressive. Equal parts delicious ambience and earth-shattering
yelping, they pumped forth a wicked energy. They were really unique. Vocalist
Ian Love is a pretty diminutive guy, but wow, can he ever let loose. He’s
got a voice similar to Rufus Wainwright with the warbling quality and soft-to-loud-in-a-heartbeat
ability of Jeff Buckley. Pretty great combo. The music was somewhat scattered,
but intentionally so. Beats would appear unexpectedly, strange noises would
be emitted from guitars. Buttery lights would descend from above, and heads
would be flung violently. We listened to the group’s CD on the drive home
and were equally impressed. Give them a gander at http://www.cardiamusic.com.
Now on to the highly-anticipated headliner. For those unfamiliar with Year
of the Rabbit, a brief history. I came to YOTR by way of Ken Andrews. He’s
had a career filled with underground success, but has never really been granted
a mainstream breakthrough. Regardless, his career as both a musician and a producer
has spawned some truly amazing things. Failure, ON, Air, Pete Yorn, Self, Creeper
Lagoon, National Skyline, Blinker the Star… the list of outstanding projects
goes on and on. The other members of YOTR come from illustrious backgrounds
in the aforementioned National Skyline, Cupcakes, Shiner, as well as bands extending
further into their respective histories. All that together creates one amazing
super-group. The fan in me took over for the first time in quite a while as
I approached the stage with my camera. The fog machines were on in full force,
the lights were dimmed, but still the techs dashed around the stage (one fellow
donning a “Pro-Tools sucks” t-shirt garnered a lot of attention).
Patience wore thin and excitement built as the last-minute checks continued.
A mysterious voice in the crowd began to yell at intervals in an anguished tone,
“Release the bunny!! Give us the bunny!”
Without a sound, the band members snuck onto the stage to an eruption of cheers.
And we were off.
The lights were white and mostly behind the band, and the fog machines continued
to churn out their toxic dust. The band was on form, though I have no basis
for comparison to any of their other shows. Their combined experience was very
noticeable though. The band was tight. They essentially played the album in
a shuffled order. There was very little inter-song banter, and the show went
off mostly without a hitch, despite the ambience being somewhat marred by a
guy nearby who seemed to think he was Andrews’ best buddy and continually
screamed at him between songs to “Play Burn!!!!!!!!” while trying
to get Andrews to shake his hand or something. Said crowd member also spent
a lot of time thrashing himself around and just about smoking himself on the
monitor he was using as a leverage point. Dear God, why? Why must these people
be placed right beside me at shows? Anyhow, aside from that foible, the show
was everything I could have hoped for. Strobe lights pierced the fog, the guys
lost themselves in the tunes.
I’ve had indication that Andrews wasn’t in the greatest of health
at this show, but he sure did a good job of covering that up. His voice is naturally
a bit raspy as it is, with tons of character. Guitarist Jeff Garber was also
on my side of the stage, and definitely the most active member of the band on
the whole. He’d be bent over double in front of his amps, casting explosions
of light rays out from the portholes created between his arms, body and guitar
every time he stepped in front of a light. The next moment, he’d be at
the very edge of the stage, head thrust backwards at the wood ceiling, guitar
in the air. Bassist Solomon Snyder, over on the far side from me, was difficult
to see most of the time past the thrashing body in the crowd beside me, but
he seemed to drift back and forth and in and out of the light like a ghost.
Drummer Tim Dow was as quick as they come in the back. I had a perfect vantage
point to him from where I stood, and he was quite mesmerizing. His kit looked
incredible in the white lights – a transparent shiny red illuminated from
all sides.
A few songs in, they did Hunted, the most notable song to date, the first single,
and the title track off of their teaser EP that made its first appearance months
ago while ravenous fans anxiously awaited the full studio release. The entire
room lit up in a big sing-along for this one. Likewise near the end of the set
when they played Rabbit Hole, the other tune from the EP that made it to the
full-length. In between all that, the songs moseyed from lulling and soaring,
to loud and frenzied. The signature Ken Andrews sound is very apparent throughout
the catalogue. I’m still upset that I never had a chance to see Failure
play, but indeed, this is the next best thing.
After about fifty minutes, the band left the stage. The crowd remained where
it was though chanting for the group’s return. The obnoxious fellow beside
me launched himself on the stage to grab a set list and see what the encore
had in store. The set list did not include the encore songs, however, the fellow
didn’t seem to fully realize that. He did get his wish though. YOTR returned
to the stage and played Burn, the original track from the EP that didn’t
go on the full-length. Our friend in the crowd certainly was convinced that
Andrews had heard his pleas and decided to play the song only due to his insistence.
Being that Andrews was doing a wonderful job of not even vaguely acknowledging
the man with so much as a fleeting glance, I imagine that’s just not the
case. Following that tune, YOTR ended the entire show with the song that likewise
ends the LP, Say Goodbye. It’s a touching song, and of course fitting
for the end of the night. The band left the stage, and I rejoined my group,
sweaty, but reveling. Ahhhhh!
After a short while, the band members came back into the venue one by one to
chat with stragglers. My crew and I had been taking turns dashing to the washrooms
or the merch tables, preparing for the late-night drive back home. Brief conversations
were had regarding various cities, the differences between touring Canada versus
the US, photography, and where the band was headed next. Here, I did have a
chance to speak a little further with most of them (aside from Dow, who I was
only able to greet on my way out of the venue), and they all seem engaging,
appreciative people from those fleeting encounters. All of us were satisfied
with the evening’s turnout as we tumbled out of Studio 7, piled into the
van, and began the trek to Vancouver. On the way, we picked up Slurpees, sodas,
and beer from a 7-11. The differences between American and Canadian 7-11 fare
are pretty astronomical. Right on. From there on, most of the van fell into
sleeping silence. The roads passed in darkness. We got a fright at the border
when we saw a camper van that had been pulled to the side, all the contents
emptied, and everything ripped apart by border guards. But alas, we were allowed
to just sail on through. We got home around 2am, earlier than a standard night
out in Vancouver. It was worth every moment to go down to Seattle to take in
this show.
For more information on Year of the Rabbit, check out http://www.yearoftherabbit.net
Don't forget to check out the PHOTOS!
-Andy Scheffler
www.members.tripod.com/andydesign
|
An RK Media Website 
