{"id":13,"date":"2011-08-24T19:42:09","date_gmt":"2011-08-24T19:42:09","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blog.nielskunze.com\/?p=13"},"modified":"2015-05-24T00:00:48","modified_gmt":"2015-05-24T00:00:48","slug":"a-typical-gig-there-never-was","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/blog.nielskunze.com\/?p=13","title":{"rendered":"A Typical Gig (There Never Was)"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>

Niels, Ian, Cory, Shane & half a David<\/p><\/div>\n

That blazing star called Missing Peace had long ago risen above the blurred horizon of contemporary rock \u2019n roll, had streaked boldly across the sky like a Zen Master\u2019s brush across a blank and hungry canvas, and had settled into the contented afterglow of fat cigars and warmed-brandy Sundays beside a crackling fire at the local pub. Okay, okay, perhaps our musical career had been something more akin to a soggy firecracker sputtering and fussing in the piss-soaked alley behind a stripper bar\u2014 working up the gumption for a really big bang which too often turned into the flapping of lips and the dull thud of Al falling from his barstool again. \u201cWho is Al?\u201d you might ask\u2026 Short for alcoholic\u2026 an acronym for Ass Licker\u2026 or usually just that Asshole Loudmouth who\u2019s always yelling \u201cPlay some ACDC!\u201d Thoughts like daggers\u2014 \u201cFuck you buddy!\u201d\u2014 would shoot from our eyes as Cory would step up to the mic and cordially say \u201cHey man, we don\u2019t know any ACDC. Sorry man.\u201d Like this is something to be sorry about? Or perhaps the sublime intricacies of ACDC\u2019s superlative compositional skill was something quite beyond our abilities to adequately reproduce? Yeah right. I\u2019ve had farts that were more tuneful than their best efforts.<\/p>\n

Anywho\u2026 the truth about Missing Peace now was that the band had been\u2026 well, dis-banded, de-funked, dis-solved for several years already. Shane was just visiting from a thousand miles away. (Some may argue that this was a considerable improvement as Shane always had the uncanny knack of being more than a million miles away while simultaneously sitting right there beside you in the tour bus. But don\u2019t worry though; when we really needed him, he was always there singing his guts out.) And Cory was \u201cofficially\u201d just visiting too, but the nudge-nudge-wink-wink truth of it was that he was looking to move back into the Valley pending some kick-ass employment opportunity. Just shush, don\u2019t tell his girlfriend\u2014 they haven\u2019t gotten around to discussing it yet. Ian, Chris and yours truly had hunkered down in the Valley, setting some creative roots into the hard bedrock of our past endeavors, trying to build something new from the hard lessons learned from wild escapades long spent. We had just begun to re-spark the \u201ccollaborative mind,\u201d to re-explore the old chemistry\u2014 making from jagged bits of sound something smooth and gelled\u2014 not quite jam with its myriad seeds and bits of pulp; more like an audio pudding: rum and raisin. The proof, after all, is in the pudding, eh? and ours was usually 80 proof at least! especially now with Shane and Cory back in the mix.<\/p>\n

I was busy jacking this into that, twisting and fiddling with knobs, ponderously assessing Cory\u2019s licks, Ian\u2019s slap and tickle, Chris\u2019s hard driving beat and Shane\u2019s squeals and moans when the call came in. Of course we didn\u2019t hear the ring, but Ian whipped out his vibrator, put it to his ear and said in the businesslike manner we\u2019ve come to expect \u201cIan here.\u201d His face became puzzled and remained so for a lengthy interval as though it was a 500-piece jig-saw of just clouds and sky\u2014 virtually unsolvable. And then suddenly the clouds parted and the light beamed from Ian\u2019s countenance. Excitement twittered and sparkled to a crescendo his eyes could no longer contain. \u201cYes, of course,\u201d he assured the voice on the other end. \u201cI\u2019m sure they will.\u201d The rest of us had begun to deduce that Ian was speaking on our behalf. Curiosity was piqued. \u201cNo, actually we broke up a few years ago, but as luck would have it we\u2019re all here now. We just started jamming.\u201d He went on to say something about fate and serendipity, and we were all silently begging him to hang up the damn phone and tell us what the hell was going on! \u2026 Sheesh!<\/p>\n

He had booked us a gig. Just like that Missing Peace was back in business. Ian still had a touch of the old magic, making the finest and tastiest shit just fall in our laps once again. (I still don\u2019t know how they got Ian\u2019s cell number.) So, this weekend, we were off to Haida Gwaii. The festival headliners had cancelled last minute, and we\u2019d always been on their call-back list, having made a good impression a few years back. Missing Peace hadn\u2019t played in more than two years, and now we were headlining in the Charlottes! Wow!<\/p>\n

Flights were hastily booked; arrangements were made. Schedules were tight, but we could just cram it in. Chris had already committed himself to a gig on Thursday night in Invermere\u2014 he\u2019s a singer\/songwriter and guitar player now; the whole drumming thing is more like a badly kept secret or an illicit affair\u2014 he\u2019ll do it when necessary, but we just don\u2019t talk about it much in public. I\u2019m his soundman, so I\u2019d be in Invermere too. Ian, Cory and Shane would have to pack up the motor home, swing through town to pick us up after the gig, then we\u2019d drive through the rest of the night to catch an early morning flight on Friday from Calgary. We\u2019d make it to the island late on Friday afternoon just as the festival was getting underway. That was the plan. Of course, that\u2019s not what happened, not by a long shot. But I\u2019m getting ahead of myself here\u2026 (does that mean I\u2019m now looking at my own ass?… Hmm, not bad.)<\/p>\n

Details\u2026 plot lies heavy and thick among the very finest of details. A good story is like a good bowl of borscht: without just the right subtle blend of spice, that dollop of sour cream and that fresh sprig of parsley, it\u2019s just mushed up beets. Sure it\u2019ll fill you up, even stain your poo purple, but in the end it won\u2019t quite satisfy that hunger which lies deep below the periodic growling of bellies.<\/p>\n

It had always been an unspoken embarrassment that Missing Peace had never officially released a second album. Flash-in-the-pan, fly-by-night, one-hit-wonder\u2014 derisive clich\u00e9s we had no right to shun\u2014 we had never whipped out the proverbial meat which our adoring fans could rightly sink their teeth into; we hadn\u2019t proven our staying power. No, flaccidly, we\u2019d zippered up, and just walked away. So when the festival promoters had asked us about any new releases we could only stammer and gibber away about numerous works-in-progress, dusty archival recordings\u2014 live shit and such, and a few scattered gems mixed down to minidisk. But no, I\u2019m sorry sir, we don\u2019t have a new CD to promote. \u201cWell bring the minidisk or any ADAT tapes. I\u2019ve got my own studio here. We can mix something down, do a quick mastering job and press a couple hundred copies. We\u2019ll promote it as a limited edition, just a one-shot deal. If you play a good set, they\u2019ll eat it up.\u201d Kick ass!… if we play a good set.<\/p>\n

Fast-forward to Thursday night: Chris\u2019s gig had gone well. He sold a half-dozen of his first CD and stirred up interest in the second which was currently in production. It had been a scaled-down affair, a coffee shop gig, kind of a pre-release party\u2014 just Chris, his guitar and a microphone. Now you\u2019re wondering why he\u2019d need a soundman for such a simple set up? All I can tell you is that I had him sounding sweet\u2014 and that it sucks being totally by yourself. I recorded the show too on my new 16-track portable studio\u2014 a bit of overkill since I only needed two tracks.<\/p>\n

The rest of the guys picked us up in Roxy just after one a.m. They\u2019d spent the evening going over all the tunes we hadn\u2019t played in years, nailing down structures and cues\u2014 and just remembering which damn notes to play! By the time we hit the road we were all pretty exhausted. Now, I\u2019m the type of guy who usually checks all the gear\u2014 making sure that all the pieces are there with all the proper connectors and that some crucial knob, slider or toggle switch hasn\u2019t been busted off during the last loading up. But I was tired. It was a motor home. I took a nap instead.<\/p>\n

I woke up somewhere near the top of Storm Mountain feeling much refreshed. Chris was at the wheel. Cory was riding shotgun. Ian was sitting on the beer cooler between them\u2014 manning the bar so to speak. Shane was snoozing in the back. Ah, just like old times. I climbed down from the overhead sleeper to finally do my anal-retentive check of the gear. At the first cursory inspection my heart began to beat considerably faster. Over the next few minutes I walked a half kilometer pacing up and down the motor home searching frantically but to no avail. Finally I tapped Ian on the shoulder and asked \u201cWhere\u2019s my guitar?\u201d<\/p>\n

The sudden in-breath, that little gasp which Ian does when he has that spontaneous revelation which can only mean \u201cOh shit!\u201d is really something to behold. It\u2019s as though the earth has fallen away beneath our feet, and if Ian sucks in his breath ever-so-abruptly with just the right vocalization: kind of a \u201cHuh!\u201d with eyes thrown wide\u2014 then maybe, just maybe, we won\u2019t all fall into the gaping maw of hell and perish instantly. Of course as soon as I heard that infamous sound I knew that my guitar was chillin\u2019 and groovin\u2019 on its own somewhere back in Fairmont.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll buy you a new one when we get there\u2026 Or in Calgary.\u201d Ian was scrambling. He knew that I wouldn\u2019t be so easily appeased.<\/p>\n

I didn\u2019t really feel like arguing with Ian. (Big horn sheep are wise enough to avoid butting heads with him.) In six years I had never played a show without that guitar. I knew its quirks, its temperament, its feel\u2014 and it knew mine. I didn\u2019t bother explaining these things, I just cut straight to the chase. \u201cThe minidisk is in my guitar case.\u201d<\/p>\n

I thought he might do the sucky, gaspy in-breath thing again, but instead he just said \u201cFuck!\u201d<\/p>\n

We didn\u2019t have to tell him; Chris was already turning around. No one could turn around a twenty-three-and-a-half-foot RV on a two-lane highway like Chris. And he\u2019s the type of guy who doesn\u2019t wait for the argument to play itself out to a nice bottom-line conclusion. He was at the wheel; he had the power; the decision was made.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re gonna miss our flight.\u201d Nobody was arguing with Ian now either. He was probably right.<\/p>\n

The trip back to Fairmont was agonizing. I felt terrible. I hadn\u2019t set out my guitar to be packed with the rest of the gear. I had left it down in my room. I couldn\u2019t really blame the guys for forgetting to take it. And then I didn\u2019t get around to checking for it until it was pretty much too late. It felt like Fate\u2019s evil twin had put a spell on me and then conspired with his second cousin, Bad Luck, to effectively shut down Missing Peace\u2019s resurrected aspirations. The whole gig was in serious jeopardy.<\/p>\n

Well, we got the guitar and the minidisk, and Chris pushed Roxy to her limit which, unfortunately, was only about 120 kmph downhill with a tailwind. At 7:10 we were on McKnight Blvd. approaching the airport. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 7:35. But flights are notoriously late, right? We tried to convince ourselves, bolster our hopes. We stepped out of Roxy at 7:31 to begin the race through the terminal. We arrived at the appropriate boarding gate just in time to see our plane taxiing out to the runway. Ian began issuing demands to any airport personnel he could find. \u201cStop that plane! You have to get on the phone and turn that plane around!\u201d A very sympathetic janitor was so impressed with Ian\u2019s intensity that I\u2019m sure if he\u2019d had a phone he would have dialed up the pilot right there and then. Instead, we watched flight 709 to Prince Rupert take off without us. Bummer!<\/p>\n

Now what? When things fall apart someone invariably asks \u201cNow what?\u201d It was Shane. Cory was pretty quick with the answer informing us that we had passed a twenty-four hour bar on our recent Flash Gordon tour of the terminal. Leave it to Cory; he\u2019d always know where we could get more beer. Ian, Chris and I were pretty tired, so we rented a cheap day-room. We decided that we could phone Tairn, the festival organizer, later that afternoon to break the bad news to him, that we\u2019d missed our flight. Oops!<\/p>\n

Shane and Cory went to the bar.<\/p>\n

We overslept. The crushing weight of this sudden defeat knocked us halfway to oblivion; the sweet senselessness of dreamless slumber afforded us a brief respite from our frantic futility. We had lost perhaps the best gig of our careers, and I went to sleep knowing that it was essentially my fault. When we woke up ten hours later we were in a panic again\u2014 but I must admit that this \u201cpanic\u201d had lost much of its urgency; it was more of a mild distress or perhaps a watered-down guilt. It was already a couple of hours past the time our flight was due to arrive in Haida Gwaii. By now the festival personnel had realized that Missing Peace was not aboard, that we were not coming, that we\u2019d fucked up big time. We\u2019d intended to phone, to give them the heads up, but now we\u2019d missed that opportunity too. \u201cIs your cell on?\u201d asked Chris suddenly. I turned to Ian too. \u201cYeah, why didn\u2019t they call right away when they discovered we weren\u2019t on the flight?\u201d Weird.<\/p>\n

Ian\u2019s phone was perfectly fine. We headed on down to the bar to find Cory and Shane, and then get a bite to eat. Then we\u2019d call Tairn in Haida Gwaii.<\/p>\n

The bar was moderately busy, and kept filling up throughout our stay. We had Cory and Shane join us at a table on the main floor and we all ordered dinner. I began to notice part way through our meal that the other patrons were gathering around the various television sets scattered throughout the establishment. They seemed quite riveted to whatever story was airing on the local news. Our table was out of earshot so I asked Shane if he knew anything about it from when he and Cory were sitting at the bar. \u201cYeah, something about a plane crash,\u201d he answered. \u201cFreakin\u2019 terrorists, man,\u201d joked Cory. You had to forgive them\u2014 Cory and Shane I mean. They\u2019d been drinking for nearly twenty-four straight hours now; the poor little lightbulb was submerged in buckets of Kootenay Mountain Ale. Who could tell if the light came on or not? Ian and I rushed to the nearest screen to listen in. Our intuitions were confirmed in less than a minute as the reporter referred to \u201cdowned flight 709, bound for Prince Rupert.\u201d There were no survivors. Holy shit!<\/p>\n

From being the goat to being the hero, just like that\u2014 I couldn\u2019t believe it! Yes, I had caused us to miss our flight\u2014 and yes, I had saved our freakin\u2019 lives as a result\u2014 thank you very much! Ian was already on the phone to Tairn. (I never did find out if Tairn was a first name, a last name, a nick-name or something else entirely. But then my name is Niels, so I should talk eh?) Well, it turns out that the festival organizers had just announced to their Friday night crowd that Missing Peace had perished en route and they were uncertain that the festival would continue at all. Ian assured Tairn that we were more determined than ever to be his headliners if we could just find a way to get there in time\u2026 Missing Peace\u2014 back from the dead!<\/p>\n

Tairn had a buddy with a private jet. They told us to sit tight at the Calgary airport; they\u2019d come get us. Now that\u2019s more like it. The whole situation was kind of ridiculous, quite hilarious really. I mean sorry about those who died in the crash and all, but our old magic\u2014 the Missing Peace charm\u2014 was gloriously intact and fully operational. Sit tight and wait for the private jet indeed\u2026 \u201cBarkeep! This calls for a round of your finest scotch!\u201d<\/p>\n

Now we were all pretty cut. Being back from the dead was one of the finest reasons to celebrate if ever there was one. The party really got going when Cory ordered a round of Zombies\u2014 a most fitting aperitif for the undead\u2014 and probably would have lasted considerably longer if Shane hadn\u2019t suddenly gotten up to say \u201cI gotta phone Kim.\u201d At that, Ian did the sucky-gaspy thing again and the lightbulb dimly lit the bottom of the beer barrel in the rest of us too. \u201cOh shit, they all think we\u2019re dead.\u201d We all then phoned our families, and they readily forgave our drunkenness, were reluctant to forgive our tardiness, but were really quite happy with our livingness.<\/p>\n

Tairn scooped us up and poured us into our seats in \u201cBuddy\u2019s\u201d jet. (I never caught \u201cBuddy\u2019s\u201d name. I\u2019m sure I was told several times, but I\u2019m terrible with names, especially when I\u2019m swimming in scotch.) The flight was largely uneventful other than bringing an odd shade of green to the cheeks of some of my band-mates. These small aircraft can make for a rollicking good ride!<\/p>\n

From our very first appearance in Haida Gwaii this time around we were instant celebrities. The only thing known to man that travels well beyond the speed of light is a rumor among a rural island community. Everyone had heard of Missing Peace by now\u2014 twice: first that we were all dead\u2014 boo! And second, that we were coming to you live tomorrow night\u2014 yay! Such a turnout at the Haida Gwaii festival was unprecedented. The whole island turned up at the festival site, and a schwack of outlanders too from the surrounding isles kept pouring in. We knew that it had little to do with our music credentials; they all just wanted to see the five lads with horseshoes crammed up their butts. If God does indeed play favorites, they wanted to sample the same divinely-sanctioned groove-fest themselves. God bless them all!<\/p>\n

By the time we took to the stage, it was easily the largest audience we had ever played to. Our introduction, delivered by Tairn himself, was big on the miraculous resurrection and the unlikely circumstances of our arrival, and decidedly lacking in anything about the merits of our music. But we were okay with that; we were prepared to let the music speak for itself. A set of live music doesn\u2019t actually sound any better just because the MC is a Master of Crap and unrestrained hype\u2014 it\u2019s really just that most of the hypnotized masses (especially those tending to worship the likes of ACDC) think that it does… Just give us a fair shake.<\/p>\n

Before we began to play, Cory stepped up to his mic\u2014 don\u2019t worry, he\u2019d had time to sober up, though he still looked a bit rough from close up. \u201cUm, hello Haida Gwaii.\u201d (Good to use the local, native name.) \u201cI\u2019d just like to say that the reports of our demise have been greatly exaggerated.\u201d It actually got a sizable laugh from the audience. Cory had planned to rip into the introductory lick of our opening number right then\u2014 sort of an in-your-face-see-we\u2019re-very-much-alive kind of affair, but just as his hand was poised to strike the first chord, Shane piped up. \u201cBefore we get started\u2026\u201d Damnit! What now?<\/p>\n

I had always silently objected to the long pauses, the dead air, which had invariably become part of the Missing Peace repertoire in the past. I firmly believed that when a band was on stage, they should play music. Keep the chit-chat to a minimum. In the past we had been notorious for arguing on-stage about what song to play next. Sometimes these \u201cdiscussions\u201d could last several minutes. Meanwhile the audience has fallen asleep, gone out for a bite, or simply gone home because they assumed that the show must be over. I hated it. This time, however, it turned out to be a brilliant move. Kudos Shane! After Cory\u2019s little joke, Shane had the audience, along with the band, observe a minute of silence in respect for all those who perished in flight 709. You could\u2019ve heard a gnat fart during that minute. When Cory\u2019s hand finally pounced on that opening riff the sheer drama evoked in the contrast from a reverential silence to the sound of sheet metal ripping delivered the audience snugly into our keeping for the next ninety minutes.<\/p>\n

Remembering \u201cwhat damn notes to play\u201d was not an act of volition. Our conscious minds were obviously not involved\u2014 for we played flawlessly. We were once again caught up in something much bigger than five swollen egos yammering for attention. We didn\u2019t have to think about what we were doing; we all just listened to ourselves and each other\u2014 and we were amazed. We followed a script which had long been written and faithfully programmed into us by higher powers. Some moments are so perfect and pristine that absolutely no power on Earth can fuck them up. Ours lasted for an hour and a half\u2026 Yes!<\/p>\n

But this was not the climax\u2014 at least not for me, nor, I think, for my band-mates. The real climax\u2014 the emotional peak\u2014 came a moment after the final \u201cbig rock ending\u201d faded into the clamorous wash of a thousand cheering voices. We laid our instruments to rest and turned to each other. Cory, Shane, Chris, Ian and Niels met at center stage. We pressed our sweaty foreheads together in a tight circle and embraced Missing Peace\u2014 that undying, unstoppable, magical creature which each of us would always cherish as family\u2014 yes, family; there is no better word. And the audience too felt something special in that moment. If a thousand people can go bat-shit crazy over five guys in a group hug, then maybe there\u2019s still hope for this rat race called humanity. And I don\u2019t know for sure whether it was just beads of sweat\u2014 some of us can really work up a good schwitz\u2014 but the rain which fell upon our bare or sandaled toes I will always choose to remember as tears of absolute joy\u2026 Thanks.<\/p>\n

Epilogue:
\nWe didn\u2019t have time before the show to burn anything from minidisk onto CD, but we used the 16-track to record our live set. In the days following the show we hung around the Charlottes mixing and mastering. Then we sold out 500 copies in about a day and a half.<\/p>\n

If you happen to own a disc from that memorable night, you have a truly rare and valuable gem. Cherish it.<\/p>\n

N.K. 2005<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

(Author Narration– a bit sloppy; sorry ’bout that– with musical accompaniment by three fifths of Missing Peace– Ian, Chris and Niels– studio run-throughs from around 2000. The songs: Islander, So I, and Spanish Stucco\u2026 rhythm section only.) That blazing star (…)<\/p>\n

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