Friday, April 29, 2011
2011-04-30: Planking at the Spartacus anniversary
It's true! Everyone's favorite anarchist bookstore Spartacus Books is having a small anniversary party down at 684 E. Hastings, and a small number (possibly very small) of Planks will be down there at 6 to play some pseudo-political music. But you don't have to wait that long -- things kick off with a 10 am pancake breakfast, and there'll be other entertainment in effect over the course of the day including Katie and the Lichen, Anita Sparrow, and our friends in the Gram Partisans.
2011-04-29: Too Much Of A Good Time!
This show tonight is so packed, why complicate it with extraneous words? The Creaking Planks open at the Backstage Lounge (on Granville Island -- 1585 Johnson St.) tonight for three good sets of friends in the Knackers, the Whiskey Dicks, and of course Mezamazing. It's been too long since we've played with any of them, and here we get to play with ALL of them! The show kicks off at 8:30 pm, play running in the attached theatre permitting, and we'll be the first band up. Sometime well after midnight, the musical death march of joy will wrap up.
And isn't this a killer poster? Really, aside from Galiano Island, where we're concerned there are no competing places to hold a candle to being at this show tonight. Fortunately, we don't have to choose!
And isn't this a killer poster? Really, aside from Galiano Island, where we're concerned there are no competing places to hold a candle to being at this show tonight. Fortunately, we don't have to choose!
Thursday, April 7, 2011
2011-04-24: Planks play second fiddle to Jason Webley and Maria in the Shower
Spring's coming up wonderfully strange all around! Building on past strengths, we're celebrating the return of the sun on Easter Sunday with the return of our friend Jason Webley, the mad genius behind the Monsters of Accordion tour, joining us and most of the merry minstrels of Maria in the Shower, again at the Grandview Legion Hall (2205 Commercial Drive) which we used to such good effect with them at last year's Accordion Noir Festival. This show, also, is presented by the weekly Accordion Noir radio show / podcast -- and what better way to celebrate the gritty, punky rebirth of accordion music also than with this over-the-moon lineup? Don't worry about Monday morning the next day -- that's EASTER Monday you're thinking of! After our show you can feel free to Morris dance and conduct pagan rites until you're satisfied with your Maypole's braid. And if your employer disagrees with us, uh, well then we'll have to have some harsh words with him. (Or her. But bosses are, by definition, The Man.)
Tickets are a steal at $15, and we'd like to thank our friends at the Work Less Party for helping to make this show possible.
Proving we don't have the market quite cornered on the goofy covers, here's an old Jason Webley chestnut you most likely won't be hearing at this occasion:
2011-04-08: Planks play at the Bootleggers' Ball
The jug band of the damned trades in our washtub bass for washtub gin (hm... tastes a bit... bassy!) at this speakeasy-themed benefit for the Vancouver Police Museum, "Vancouver's most arresting experience" (har har), celebrating their 25th anniversary. The museum itself is a very interesting piece of work, immortalizing our regional law enforcement AND lawlessness with all sorts of worrying evidence from local criminal acts throughout Vancouver's history. These folks also host the exciting "Sins of the City" walking tour, but I digress...
Friday night from 7 pm on, we'll be partying it up like it's 1939 at the Biltmore Cabaret (395 Kingsway) with the Vaudevillains squeezing the last drop of humour out of period material with their last gasps, and the easy-to-speak-about burlesque authorities Lola Frost, Darla DeVine and Lacey L'Amour.
Plus prizes galore from numerous generous sponsors! Tickets only available in advance! $40! More information at http://www.bootleggersball.ca/
It's gratifying to see how many folks over at Miss604, media sponsor of the show, agree that we're an excellent fit for its format. Wow, gosh! These people know about us! (Maybe they remember the coverage of our One Cool Word performance there?) In truth, we are an excellent fit for every format -- and any crying child who tells you otherwise is a dirty liar!
Friday night from 7 pm on, we'll be partying it up like it's 1939 at the Biltmore Cabaret (395 Kingsway) with the Vaudevillains squeezing the last drop of humour out of period material with their last gasps, and the easy-to-speak-about burlesque authorities Lola Frost, Darla DeVine and Lacey L'Amour.
Plus prizes galore from numerous generous sponsors! Tickets only available in advance! $40! More information at http://www.bootleggersball.ca/
It's gratifying to see how many folks over at Miss604, media sponsor of the show, agree that we're an excellent fit for its format. Wow, gosh! These people know about us! (Maybe they remember the coverage of our One Cool Word performance there?) In truth, we are an excellent fit for every format -- and any crying child who tells you otherwise is a dirty liar!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
2011-04-05: Planks at CabaRadio 2nd anniversary broadcast
Sometimes, the opportunities come so close together there just isn't time to write them all up! Late the night of Apr 5th, a crew of five Planks , perhaps our biggest yet on the radio (including Dr. Stelhand's debut on the chacharangi and Ludwicka LePearl's debut on the beverage dispenser), joined Teddy Smooth and E-Roc (and practically a cast of thousands: Andrea Superstein formerly of the Marmaladies, Ligia Oancea, Jane Stanton, Suzy Shameless and Iona Beerwagon from the Terminal City Rollergirls, and Burgundy Brixx & the Purrfessor of Kitty Nights) to celebrate the 2nd anniversary of CabaRadio over at CiTR.
You can hear us here! Our first song, the Volga Boatmen birthday song, begins at 8:41 (CabaRadio enjoys great production values, and it enjoys them at its leisure), which we follow up with Psycho Killer at 9:40, our Kishka Anthem at 13:34, and Kiddie Closer again for kicks at 17:56.
Memories! Sights to rival the sounds from the CiTR lounge:
You can hear us here! Our first song, the Volga Boatmen birthday song, begins at 8:41 (CabaRadio enjoys great production values, and it enjoys them at its leisure), which we follow up with Psycho Killer at 9:40, our Kishka Anthem at 13:34, and Kiddie Closer again for kicks at 17:56.
Memories! Sights to rival the sounds from the CiTR lounge:
Friday, April 1, 2011
2011-04-02: Planks play at the Peculiar Poetry Cabaret!
You probably missed us March 12 playing an intimate acoustic living room set to celebrate a new line of Venus' vintage jewellery. That was too bad, but her works live on and you can find them online! Performances are ephemeral however, none more than poetry performances -- even the loudest among them often fly under the radar just outside the front door, while a jerk with a car stereo can be belt blocks away. Musicians, though, we straddle the line between poet and jerk, and tomorrow night we will be making a spirited ruckus on behalf of the quiet poets of page and slam, making our sound and fury to benefit the upcoming 1st annual Vancouver International Poetry Festival.
Joining us will be such mouthy titans as Al Mader, the minimalist jug band, as well as Barbara Adler of Fang and elder statesman of the harmonica beatbox C. R. Avery. Also on the bill are Lucia Misch, our friends in High Society, and even a very literary turn by our own Travis the Magician. (A wizard of words, perhaps?)
Admission runs on a sliding scale from $10-15.
Joining us will be such mouthy titans as Al Mader, the minimalist jug band, as well as Barbara Adler of Fang and elder statesman of the harmonica beatbox C. R. Avery. Also on the bill are Lucia Misch, our friends in High Society, and even a very literary turn by our own Travis the Magician. (A wizard of words, perhaps?)
Admission runs on a sliding scale from $10-15.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
2011-03: Business as (un)unusual
Not long after reporting that we were "open for business", an order was placed -- from a new fan in San Diego! How did they find us now, say, and not eight months ago when we were touring California? To make a hilarious story short, while researching pirate-themed artwork from "good girl art" illustrator "Coop", they found a recent appearance of a pirate band on a radio station named "Co-op". Strange but true!
Who knows, we thought, maybe we'll find ourselves in demand in the internet market of the commons. Maybe stuffing envelopes with our sweat and voices will eventually become another humdrum chore, ultimately abstracting high art down to crass commerce. But not yet! Opening the long-neglected "mail art" drawer from back in the postcardx days, this, our first order, from someone who we've never even sat in the same room with, was fortified with seven essential vitamins and nutrients. Yes, our CD packaging is grand as it is. Yes, Peter Guindon's liner notes artwork gives him a place in the "good girl art" pantheon of his very own. (One held up with chunky-thighed caryatids, please.) But there's no package so great that it can't be improved with some monkey stickers on the front, an old copy of Brad Yung's "Stay As You Are" and a plastic alligator carefully packed in a cardboard sleeve marked "Bliss".
Little did we realise that our new friend (who for reasons of privacy we will be referring to only as... "Tzar Ethers Eels") was similarly inclined toward the mail artistic persuasion, where sending anything less than a package would be ... slackage!
Now, because a picture is worth a thousand words, allow me to save everyone a whole lotta typing.
The package arrived, setting off both pets with its conspicuous disproportionality relative to the $20 it was expected to contain. Perhaps the postman accidentally delivered us someone else's package? (But no, there's my name, surrounded by flattering superlatives!) Maybe we had been paid the twenty dollars in loose change? (An impish urge ultimately a losing proposition by post, except in cases where postage has already been paid by the recipient corporation.) Surely the customs manifest would clarify. Hmm... postcards, a DVD... a map?! TOYS?!@#$%
Between shots, the lighting conditions changed and the pump organ became a better backdrop for our mad loot. (Beethoven doesn't agree about the lighting conditions, hence the hat, but that stony-faced downer will be busted either way.)
First out of the package -- our friend's favorite movie, on DVD: Joe Versus the Volcano. Two burned CDs (the letter discusses the convoluted logic involved in pirating music from one indie band for another; sending music to a cover band is like sending it to a radio station -- ultimately it's a zero-sum compromise at worst and if the tunes catch, we all win.) And what's that little card? Can we get a close-up?
It is difficult to imagine from what deck of cards that one originated, and what activities might be featured on the other face cards, but when a fortune-teller draws it from her Tarot deck, you know you'd best hop to it! But wait, this is just the tip of the iceberg! There's more, much more, in that box!
Two postcards from "Lather Seer Zest"'s favorite historical period, the Harlem Renaissance, plus a kinky one celebrating Killer Shrimp! (He was just an ordinary shrimp until one salad roll pushed him too far...) Then there's a two-page letter written on Bettie Page stationary, and finally an envelope containing a titillating hint of peep show.
And then there's a world map, celebrating "Ester Ha Seltzer"'s favorite charity. But does the map have any secrets to reveal? Where's the legend? Where is the treasure buried? By my ancestor's bones, what spot does X mark?
And then there's a whole other envelope in the box! From the sounds of things, a very submissive envelope trying to set terms for a bit of rough trade. It's enormous! For comparison, here's a full-sized banjo, to scale. (Just kidding! It's another banjo ukulele, and it's also not for sale.) What's in it? Where are the alleged toys?
Sadly, our digital camera does not have a zoom function sufficient to demonstrate the full extent of the miniaturization of the itty bitty bottles of liquor which were contained within the padded envelope, the world's smallest dram of Jamieson's whiskey and an eighth of an eighth of Hendrick's gin (and where is Rumblebucket to enjoy it with us?) They were like models for a doll-house of sin. They were like homeopathic hangover remedies for last night's bender. They were like... well, we'll take this opportunity to reiterate the stage banter from Blackbox's first show as a Plank, at Blim's Night of Sad Songs. "I used to think that the saddest thing in the world was animals smoking cigarettes, but after some reflection I can report that the saddest thing in the world is in fact drunk children." Now you know that you can send booze internationally in the mail as long as you call it "toys" on the customs manifest. (Candy is dandy but...) We absolve ourselves of any of the numerous horrible potential consequences of your application of that forbidden knowledge. (Hence our obfuscation of our happy customer's name, to, er, protect the guilty.)
And finally, flying around loose in the box, almost an afterthought, payment for the CD in American currency, helpfully indicating to us that their monetary designation has moved from dollars to Jays. (I always thought that it would be us here in BC who would move to using jays for currency first, but this is what happens when you get a brother in the White House.)
Here are some perplexed Planks at practice posing with a portion of our package's portentious possessions. Blackbox and Daisy-Jones are holding the tiny bottles of liquor in their hands, lest a stiff breeze carry them away, while Ludwicka bears the whole world in her hands. This surprise interlude wasn't just an exciting discovery but also educational: we learned some New Math for how to divide one shot of booze among a band of over a dozen people -- put blueberry tea to shame and mix it with your pot of Bengal Spice to help give everyone a warm glow on the last night of winter. Breakfast tea of champions!
If these kinds of shenanigans are what operating a virtual storefront will entail, then we'll be expecting a full return on our investment plus interest dividends yielded in whimsy! But we'll spend so much time scheming surprise and documenting delight that our musical activities will necessarily grind to a halt. Perhaps it's better to keep these extraordinary exchanges just that... that said, the bar has been set if anyone wants to surpass it!
Who knows, we thought, maybe we'll find ourselves in demand in the internet market of the commons. Maybe stuffing envelopes with our sweat and voices will eventually become another humdrum chore, ultimately abstracting high art down to crass commerce. But not yet! Opening the long-neglected "mail art" drawer from back in the postcardx days, this, our first order, from someone who we've never even sat in the same room with, was fortified with seven essential vitamins and nutrients. Yes, our CD packaging is grand as it is. Yes, Peter Guindon's liner notes artwork gives him a place in the "good girl art" pantheon of his very own. (One held up with chunky-thighed caryatids, please.) But there's no package so great that it can't be improved with some monkey stickers on the front, an old copy of Brad Yung's "Stay As You Are" and a plastic alligator carefully packed in a cardboard sleeve marked "Bliss".
Little did we realise that our new friend (who for reasons of privacy we will be referring to only as... "Tzar Ethers Eels") was similarly inclined toward the mail artistic persuasion, where sending anything less than a package would be ... slackage!
Now, because a picture is worth a thousand words, allow me to save everyone a whole lotta typing.
The package arrived, setting off both pets with its conspicuous disproportionality relative to the $20 it was expected to contain. Perhaps the postman accidentally delivered us someone else's package? (But no, there's my name, surrounded by flattering superlatives!) Maybe we had been paid the twenty dollars in loose change? (An impish urge ultimately a losing proposition by post, except in cases where postage has already been paid by the recipient corporation.) Surely the customs manifest would clarify. Hmm... postcards, a DVD... a map?! TOYS?!@#$%
Between shots, the lighting conditions changed and the pump organ became a better backdrop for our mad loot. (Beethoven doesn't agree about the lighting conditions, hence the hat, but that stony-faced downer will be busted either way.)
First out of the package -- our friend's favorite movie, on DVD: Joe Versus the Volcano. Two burned CDs (the letter discusses the convoluted logic involved in pirating music from one indie band for another; sending music to a cover band is like sending it to a radio station -- ultimately it's a zero-sum compromise at worst and if the tunes catch, we all win.) And what's that little card? Can we get a close-up?
It is difficult to imagine from what deck of cards that one originated, and what activities might be featured on the other face cards, but when a fortune-teller draws it from her Tarot deck, you know you'd best hop to it! But wait, this is just the tip of the iceberg! There's more, much more, in that box!
Two postcards from "Lather Seer Zest"'s favorite historical period, the Harlem Renaissance, plus a kinky one celebrating Killer Shrimp! (He was just an ordinary shrimp until one salad roll pushed him too far...) Then there's a two-page letter written on Bettie Page stationary, and finally an envelope containing a titillating hint of peep show.
And then there's a world map, celebrating "Ester Ha Seltzer"'s favorite charity. But does the map have any secrets to reveal? Where's the legend? Where is the treasure buried? By my ancestor's bones, what spot does X mark?
And then there's a whole other envelope in the box! From the sounds of things, a very submissive envelope trying to set terms for a bit of rough trade. It's enormous! For comparison, here's a full-sized banjo, to scale. (Just kidding! It's another banjo ukulele, and it's also not for sale.) What's in it? Where are the alleged toys?
Sadly, our digital camera does not have a zoom function sufficient to demonstrate the full extent of the miniaturization of the itty bitty bottles of liquor which were contained within the padded envelope, the world's smallest dram of Jamieson's whiskey and an eighth of an eighth of Hendrick's gin (and where is Rumblebucket to enjoy it with us?) They were like models for a doll-house of sin. They were like homeopathic hangover remedies for last night's bender. They were like... well, we'll take this opportunity to reiterate the stage banter from Blackbox's first show as a Plank, at Blim's Night of Sad Songs. "I used to think that the saddest thing in the world was animals smoking cigarettes, but after some reflection I can report that the saddest thing in the world is in fact drunk children." Now you know that you can send booze internationally in the mail as long as you call it "toys" on the customs manifest. (Candy is dandy but...) We absolve ourselves of any of the numerous horrible potential consequences of your application of that forbidden knowledge. (Hence our obfuscation of our happy customer's name, to, er, protect the guilty.)
And finally, flying around loose in the box, almost an afterthought, payment for the CD in American currency, helpfully indicating to us that their monetary designation has moved from dollars to Jays. (I always thought that it would be us here in BC who would move to using jays for currency first, but this is what happens when you get a brother in the White House.)
Here are some perplexed Planks at practice posing with a portion of our package's portentious possessions. Blackbox and Daisy-Jones are holding the tiny bottles of liquor in their hands, lest a stiff breeze carry them away, while Ludwicka bears the whole world in her hands. This surprise interlude wasn't just an exciting discovery but also educational: we learned some New Math for how to divide one shot of booze among a band of over a dozen people -- put blueberry tea to shame and mix it with your pot of Bengal Spice to help give everyone a warm glow on the last night of winter. Breakfast tea of champions!
If these kinds of shenanigans are what operating a virtual storefront will entail, then we'll be expecting a full return on our investment plus interest dividends yielded in whimsy! But we'll spend so much time scheming surprise and documenting delight that our musical activities will necessarily grind to a halt. Perhaps it's better to keep these extraordinary exchanges just that... that said, the bar has been set if anyone wants to surpass it!
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