The great adventure! The great entertainment! Presented to you in full colour by Canada House.
“WE’RE READY,” Danny confirms, his wrinkled face contorted in desperation to escape. The tunnel was just about big enough for us to crawl through, if we were careful, but it was going to take a lot of effort before we could all make it out scott free. “It’s perfect. Right through the middle of the foundation.”
We were about to make our escape, our climb towards freedom, towards a brighter future, and we we’re terrified.
“Good luck to us, Danny,” I said. And with that we began our journey.
The heat of the sun seemed to cook us, we were practically burnt to a crisp, tunnel melting, as we made our way through the chasm of mud and rocks. The dig had taken weeks – months in preparation and yet we were still underprepared. I didn’t have any form ID, nothing to convince the guards of who I was incase they caught us. But we had a contact on the outside that could let us in to the door of freedom if we had any problems. Thank goodness.
“Ouch!” Something cold and sharp scratched my arm. A rouge crowbar – we must have left it here when we were digging yesterday. The pain shot through my side, wriggling right through to my hand. “Ouch!” I howled.
“Shut up, they’ll hear us, you idiot!”
“it’s ok, we’re nearing the exit to the tunnel now, i can see the light,”
A sudden bright light illuminated my retinas, streaming into the dank tunnel. Oh my gosh, sunlight, actual sunlight. We can do this.
“We can make it, just a few more minutes and we’ll be free,” Danny screaches. And just as the final words left his mouth, a giant building appeared right in eye shot. We were clambering out of the mud and heading straight for the door. We’d done it.
Dusty brick walls practically hugged our eyes. “Green door store,” the sign above the door yelled, and before we knew it we, and two hundred and fifty others, were charging towards the entrance to this sanctuary.
Wait, who’s that? A tall man trudged towards us, paper in hand, and smile on his face. Oh, our contact. He must be our contact. “Hi, just go right in. The band’s will be on shortly,” he grinned, offering us our passes for the day. And with that, we had finally made it to the great escape.
Inside the building, it was small and smokey – no different from the trap tunnel we had left behind. Swarms of people were filling up the tiny room, until the amazed faces were spilling out of the door and into the street. Before the choking crowd of people stood a stage of wrangling guitars and screeching voices. “Hi Guys, we are Little destroyer,” the Canadian voice of the young singer screamed, and with that crashing drums and driving thumping electronic rhythms streamed through the building.
Crippling sounds of space rock seemed to burst from every synthetic chord, fused with a sparking power. Crunchy bass lines crackled at full volume, from a nearby amp, probably even breaking them. Jumping right into the fixated crowd, the singer wailed her striking vocal chords, bringing together the synthy dance beats of Clean bandit, but with a slight flare for a punk rock attitude.
A Rippling waterfall of violin notes flowed into the splintering spacey soundscape, as the band gave the stage away to the music of Respectful child. Waves of twinkling melodies loop together, as the frail and nervous musician pluckers her violin. The minimalist sounds of Steve Riech are raining down from the simple acoustic instrument, tender and smooth. I could feel myself dropping off to the gentle lullaby that was building on stage. Slowly, the young musician picks up her violin, drawing it to her lips for her to hum directly into the object’s pick up system; her vocal breezes joined to skipping melodies forming a sort of drone for them to dance across. It’s a weird sound, an odd creation to behold. The enchanting instrumental piece is a collage of acoustic violin trills, wistful vocalisations, and orchestral bowings reminiscent of a speeding car or sobbing child. All from a single person, pedal, and violin.
Is this the new form of classical music?
Boom.
Before I could even answer myself, the timid performer had blown an amp, stopped playing, and was staring out at the stage hands for aid. Oops, all the layering sounds must have become too much for the amps to hold; the very weight of each melody had created a sound that was too desperate to burst through the restrictions of the on stage electrical kit, so they killed the very prison that was holding them back. Much to Respectful child’s dismay. The painter of music lived up to her namesake though, sweetly apologising to the crowd and returning to her instrument’s control, soon after the restless amp was retired.
Three more artists appeared on stage after the shy soloist, each with their own distinctive take on psychedelia. Ghostly guitars and ambient basslines shared the spotlight amongst themselves, occasionally tackled by the prepackaged tectonic beats of the drum pads when the scene changed to feature Indigenous Canadians Nehiyawak. Mystical phantom wails from an electric cellist accompany the countryesque talk-singing of a lanky guitarist, with the addition of unusual electric band Raleigh. The Cantabile of guitars is intriguing, it’s not the sort of psychedelic rock twang from before. And a quick anecdote tells us the inspiration for the song – an ode to a well-loved cat as it turns out. Curious. Jiggling bass notes and a quick guitar solo hold hands tightly as the singer explains the inspiration behind yet another unusual song. This time, the twisting lyrics depicted the story of an old article he tore from a newspaper once. Set out on a pilgrimage to meet Mary, the eager followers in the article were in for more than they bargained. As it turns out, what they saw wasn’t Mary but an eclipse, with their bare eyes, burning their retinas. Bracing rock guitar rhythms and trembling cello swells fall against a backdrop of shuffling beats, as the band finish their quirky set and the favourite act of the night enter the room.
“Turns out, he wanted us to snort crystal meth off of his knuckles,” Peach pit’s singer quips. “We met him in Indonesia this one time, and that’s what this song’s about.” Taken aback, the packed room laughs as the sounds marry into a mix of smooth vocals and funky little guitar melodies that are coloured with a twist of dreamy chorus. An almost commercialised math rock style collage of shrill guitar and humming bass washes the entire room with a cheerful seaside feeling. The singer is bobbing his head along to the bracing beat as their songs play out, full of chirpy shoegazey tones.
From scratchy synth rock, and Sea Oleena style minimalist lo-fi acoustics, to a soup of psychedelic guitars and cackling bass, the indie Canada house has a lot on show today at the great escape. It’s amazing really what these indie artists can do, and the solidarity from each band as they’re watching each other play is quite sweet really. They’ve all come to this place today to entertain, and offer us a great escape from the prison of the relentless pull of the nine to five-day. A place of freedom, an adventure away from the tunnel we had to dig to get here. And, as Ramsay would say: “From what we’ve heard here, I think they did exactly that.”
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