One Bourbon, One Scotch, Two Nights

Winter Greetings to you! The season of joy is upon is (I'm told) and what better way than to enjoy the latest PDC blog, The Unvarnished Truth, with a warm cup of cocoa.... or libations as the case may be.

Apropos, as our latest musical adventures took us to the Bourbon Room in St. Albert, Alberta, Canada.

Chalkboard marquee glory!



Who The Hell Is St. Albert?


Hmmm, good question. Chronic apathy prevents me from going into detail. But suffice it to say ol' Al was a decent, caring fellow who did not succumb to that terrible mental crutch your scribe suffers from.

What I do care about is the Bourbon Room -- a raucous, little jewel on the south side of Al's town. Your Punch Drunk pals do not frequent bars & taverns much but when we do, it's worth it. It's a chance to see us up close and all personal-like! The down side is that you could also smell us up close and personal-like. One must take the bad with the good, kids!


Heralding our triumphant dual-night debut at the Bourbon Room



Elbow Room


An inherent challenge of this band, which most readers of The Unvarnished Truth might never consider, is our dress. "A challenge?", you say. Yes, for this is no mere shallow persiflage, no vacuous subject matter to be taken lightly. No, sir. When it comes to our look, Punch Drunk Cabaret takes it almost as seriously as the music... some criticasters would say more but I digress.

And part of the challenge of looking so damned good is the small problem of where to change. Especially in the dead of winter where one does not simply show up in costume and leap onstage where everything is plugged in and ready to go for us. It may surprise you to know that not every venue we've performed has a suitable place to suit up. Let me be clear -- we are not rock stars, divas nor musical icons (yet). But by the claws of Krampus, we will have a dressing room!

And we got one. A spacious makeshift green room that I commandeered officially with a professional looking sign on the door to ensure privacy and prevent peekers. Voila! Instant change room with no harm to no one no never how!


Glamourous rock star backstage area. Apologies to the handicapped.



Boom Bam, Boom Bam, Boom Boom Bam


Now I am not normally one to whinge about the perils of rock 'n' roll, no. A humble messenger am I, a modern-day scop shining the light of perspective from the intoxicating highs to the ego-squashing lows of being a working minstrel.

But I did knock my mic stand over, nearly poison myself with baby powder and cause temporary blindness from a botched makeup application. In other words, a Sawbones Saturday night in PDC.

In actuality, Friday went by free of incident. Although the following evening's performance was more enjoyable, the aforementioned occupational hazards were more prevalent.


Sidestage: plastic container of baby powder for absorbing perspiration (Editor's Note: You should say cocaine. Better for the image.)



New Traditionalists


As we finish off the year's dates, we're also shoring up potential tunes for PDC's impending and 3rd musical album entitled <WE STRONGLY ADVISE AGAINST REVEALING THIS INFORMATION UNDER PENALTY OF SOMETHING PAINFUL. LOVE, YOUR ATTORNEYS-AT-LAW>.

On top of those numbers whose tires we're kicking in a live setting for the aforementioned censored opus, we pulled out for a second gig in a row, the rockabilly version of "Run, Run Rudolph". Let us never be accused of not being in the Christmas spirit. Though let the record show I voted for "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer".



You Better Watch Out.....


For those who've been privy to PDC's December performances, you've also been part and parcel -- ahh? Parcel?! Xmas?! Anyone...? -- (Editor's Note: Shuddup!) to a sleighload of new compositions: "EliXXXer", "Detonation Time" and the proletariat protagonist-themed, "Voodoo Vodka Stomp". Expect these and other nuggets of musical flumadiddle to soon infect your brain like a Christmas chigger!   


Attractive people. Oh, and two hot girls



The Egg Nog Of Gratefulness


Thanks for coming out and raising your yuletide glasses with us: Michael Kryton Esq., Jerome & Sara, Amie & Deb, Minni & Travis, Tracey P.

Not to mention a Santa's sack of gratitude to: Lisa for unselfish service incl. picking up my felled mic stand; Guillaume The Mad Frenchman for entertaining non-PC conversation; soundman Ryan and owner Paul for the faith as well as the key to our dressing room. Again, sorry handicapped folks. Kisses! 


And that's the unvarnished truth.