Debauchery in Edmonton

                Dave hands me the first beer of the night, and I get a deep foreboding feeling. You know, that one that settles deep into your gut when your brain senses that you are about to unleash hell on to your liver.

Dave is the singer for a band called The Collective West, and he was nice enough to have us up to his home in Edmonton, Alberta for a good ol’ fashioned listening party. The plan was for another Calgary band, The Well Mannered Thieves, to open the show, then we would play and close out the night. Turns out Dave knows how to throw a party.

The large, unfinished basement was lit up with some rental lighting, and a conglomerate of old couches sat in a half moon around the stage. The crowd was small, but very attentive, and a blast to play to. They clapped in the right places, and danced in the right places, and during our finale, Dave got up on stage and wailed on a tom drum with us.

The beer flowed freely, and Mac brought out his friend Jack Daniels. Mike showed us how to make a Thundercat, and in no time we had entirely run out of potato chips. Even Ben, who earlier had stated he would not be drinking, hopped on the thundercats bandwagon.

 Dave put his iPod through the P.A., and Shania Twain loudly coerced us all into dancing. Myself and several others were given a brief lesson on twerking, and the intoxicated boogieing went from bad to worse. When ‘Call me Maybe’ came on, Mac jumped on the drum kit and started playing along. Mike and I found drumsticks, I started playing the kit with Mac, and Mike went back and forth between a playing a tom drum, and playing various parts of the ceiling. Lira, the keyboardist from the Well Mannered Thieves, belted passionately into a microphone that was not turned on, but she rocked it so no one judged. Ben recorded this stellar performance, and it can be found on our facebook page.

9 am came way too early after going to bed only 3 hours earlier, but the glory of IHOP beckoned to us. A forty minute wait for a table, a plate of waffles and chicken fingers, and we were back on the road again. Crammed like sardines into Mike’s station wagon, we headed onwards to Saskatoon. 


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