Hats Off!

It's the first of many gigs for PDC in 2015! And, consequently, many kvetchy blogs that accompany said gigs. It's The Unvarnished Truth! Ready to put a sheen on your soul, a spring in your step and ants in your pants. (Editor's Note: please see your local physician about this.)

Ahhh.... the new year! New beginnings, new rumours, new failings in the affairs of the heart.... but more importantly, new adventures in 2015 for your Punch Drunk pals. Our first show of the year took place last week. It was part of the annual Jasper in January festivities in Jasper (of all places).

 

Of Elk And Abe

 

One of this year's venues for live music for JIJ is the hallowed watering hole for heroes, the Royal Canadian Legion. So after witnessing a few close-by elk asses, we hauled ours into the quaint but consecrated confines of our night's musical home.

 

The Venue                                                                                              The Venison

 

There we met house soundman Randall, who was diligently working to set up the P.A system that would amplify our brand of swing-o-billy. This affable fellow is, I swear, the spitting image of Honest Abe -- tall, thin, trademark facial hair. We compared notes, talking about each other's band's and chapeau choices. I, with my top hat and he, with his pork pie. I tried desperately to talk him into a stovepipe hat. But Randall would have none of it. "Seriously, dude. Lincoln... with a guitar? MONEY."

 

Speaking of lids.... for the uninitiated, there is an unspoken rule that says one cannot sport headgear whilst in a Legion hall... out of respect. Sir or madam, I'll have you know that we are not the kind of gentlemen prone to disrespecting any worthy institution! But we are snake-oil salesmen, deep down, and found a way to work around this. If one wears a red poppy on one's hat, this would show the proper respect, giving one the loophole one needs to perform one's duties. After all, removing our snappy head attire when performing is tantamount to KISS removing their makeup for a 1977 concert. It's just.... not..... done. 

 

Backstage w/ Bandmeister and Cap. Hatless and shameless                     Pre-show and poppied

 

 

Virtues Of The Cocktail Kit or How I Learned To Love Playing Drums Balanced On One Foot

 

Our new permanent recruit, Cap't Sean Watts, is a talented & respected veteran of many years and musical styles.... and he plays a kooky drum kit! Now your ol' Sawbones gets enough attention when the 12-string bass is wielded before a frightened and unsuspecting audience..... but Cap has been getting similar attention to the long, lost art of playing drums standing up. Which, if I'm not mistaken, has it's origin back to when legendary Dixieland jazz drummer, Warren White, had his drum stool yanked out from under him by a prankster bassist. Again, if I'm not mistaken.

 

Preparing the Standup                                                                      Standing up

 

 

Mustang Shawna and Her Friend Whom I Can't Think Of An Appropriate Nickname For, Sally

 

Though not the largest of crowds we ever played to, 'twas an enthusiastic one, nonetheless. Plenty of drinkin', dancin' and carousin' occurred.... much to the delighted witness of your scribe. Case in point.... during a particularly raucous number (for instance, "Hail The Kings Of Steampunk Swing", or "Division Of The Damned" -- both on the critically-acclaimed-by-us sophomore opus, The Juke Joint Revival Hour, on sale now!), two lovely ladies cut a rug like no one's business on the dance floor. At some point, they both got quite intimate in their dance steps causing an adjacent UFC's Dana White-lookalike to stand, mouth agape, in awe of the visions of writhing & rhythmic beauty that burned hot before his hellbound gaze. Too much? (Editor's Note: Nah.)

 

Wish I had snapped a photo of that incident! Not only was it funny, but surely you'd have seen Old Scratch himself hovering in a smoky corner, tittering with impishly evil glee over the scenario of wicked temptation he had wrought. Instead, I give you this:

 Somewhere in this example.... irony, hyperbole, pathos and porn are running amok

 

 

We Are Not Screwtape Lewis

 

One of the most peculiar things I've ever witnessed onstage happened at the end of the show. PDC rocked, rolled, swang & swung as usual to the satisfaction of a plainly pleasured audience. Once again, we converted another room full of paid customers by establishing our humble dominance in the pantheon of Canadian live music. Punch Drunk Cabaret will not be denied! Punch Drunk Cabaret has rocked you!! PUNCH DRUNK CABARET IS OUR NAME!!!! The Bandmeister then utters the following:

"Good night! We're Screwtape Lewis!"

That's ok. Some nights I've wanted to blurt out "We're Rockabilly KISS!"

We may be Punch Drunk Cabaret

 

 

Create Your Own Caption (Because I Shan't Be Bothered)!

 

 

 

And that's the unvarnished truth.

 

Sawbones