Youth Awareness at The Substation 1997.At the area today known as Timbre and sometime ago as Fat Frog. This is the one where the drumstick incident happened.
The scene during those days was very energetic, fueled almost completely by passion. In that period, gigs were held frequently at the Substation. People were raising funds to organize gigs with no thought of profit. Most times, they had to cough up to make the difference. Ah Boy provided the amps and sound equipment for most of the Substation events, charging the bare minimum so that gigs could happen. And the bands, we played for free.
Lots of denizens wrote zines - often featuring local bands - in their spare time, charging maybe a dollar or two for each copy, most of which went into funding these events and creating exposure for local bands. It was quite the experience watching the scene in its infancy trying to lift itself up and the people driving it with pure passion and conviction. Few cared about money then.
We always played, or butchered, one or two covers on our sets. My favourite cover was a punked-up Rainbow Connection, the one sang by Kermit the frog.
We were very inexperienced then, with no clue what sound balance was. Without caring how loud Aaron's drums were during soundcheck, Justin and I kept clockwising the volume knob until we could hear our respective instruments clearly. I am pretty sure that there were instances where I could hear myself only, with Aaron's frantic pounding a distant echo somewhere behind me.
Ah Boy always came up to stage yelling too loud, too loud. And the retort was always can't hear, can't hear. Monitors weren't quite that effective for me.
I always had huge, bird-like butterflies in my stomach before our set came on. Sitting there and watching other bands play, my insides would go hollow, like having gastric issues. This always lasts through final soundcheck up until we started. Then adrenaline will take over and I'll knock myself out.
I have 3 fragilities in my performances. Sometimes I get too carried away and start shouting, even when I should just be singing. Some people liked the energy but most just shake their heads and wonder what this idiot is hollering about. And of course, I became hoarse very quickly.
Added to this is the fact that I often forget my own lyrics - I just mumble along and sing unintelligible 'words' making sure each ending syllable rhymes with the preceding one. I think I got away most of the time due partly to the shouting as well.
And finally, when I get carried away with the song, I strum the bass like it was alive and I am trying to kill it. More than once I have broken bass strings mid-set and had to borrow a bass from another band. Now, those of you who know, know it isn't exactly easy to break a bass string. Or cheap either. And with the vigourous force and speed of plucking, I often get cramps mid-song at the muscle between the thumb and index finger. If you have ever seen me suddenly pluck note by note only once in a fast song, yup - hand cramps.
Lots of denizens wrote zines - often featuring local bands - in their spare time, charging maybe a dollar or two for each copy, most of which went into funding these events and creating exposure for local bands. It was quite the experience watching the scene in its infancy trying to lift itself up and the people driving it with pure passion and conviction. Few cared about money then.
We always played, or butchered, one or two covers on our sets. My favourite cover was a punked-up Rainbow Connection, the one sang by Kermit the frog.
We were very inexperienced then, with no clue what sound balance was. Without caring how loud Aaron's drums were during soundcheck, Justin and I kept clockwising the volume knob until we could hear our respective instruments clearly. I am pretty sure that there were instances where I could hear myself only, with Aaron's frantic pounding a distant echo somewhere behind me.
Ah Boy always came up to stage yelling too loud, too loud. And the retort was always can't hear, can't hear. Monitors weren't quite that effective for me.
I always had huge, bird-like butterflies in my stomach before our set came on. Sitting there and watching other bands play, my insides would go hollow, like having gastric issues. This always lasts through final soundcheck up until we started. Then adrenaline will take over and I'll knock myself out.
I have 3 fragilities in my performances. Sometimes I get too carried away and start shouting, even when I should just be singing. Some people liked the energy but most just shake their heads and wonder what this idiot is hollering about. And of course, I became hoarse very quickly.
Added to this is the fact that I often forget my own lyrics - I just mumble along and sing unintelligible 'words' making sure each ending syllable rhymes with the preceding one. I think I got away most of the time due partly to the shouting as well.
And finally, when I get carried away with the song, I strum the bass like it was alive and I am trying to kill it. More than once I have broken bass strings mid-set and had to borrow a bass from another band. Now, those of you who know, know it isn't exactly easy to break a bass string. Or cheap either. And with the vigourous force and speed of plucking, I often get cramps mid-song at the muscle between the thumb and index finger. If you have ever seen me suddenly pluck note by note only once in a fast song, yup - hand cramps.
Aaron on the day he hit me.One of the most memorable gigs we had at Substation was when Aaron lost control of his drumstick halfway through the song.
It sailed through the air and hit me on the back! It surprised me but I continued playing, wondering for a second whether I was having a back muscle spasm. I turned around to discover that there was no drummer there and Aaron a blur of blue running past me to pick the errant stick.
There was some laughing down there and the song sounded weird for 4 seconds with no percussion. Aaron picked it up and continued, almost seamlessly where he left off.
There was loud applause when the song ended. I was pretty impressed at his composure too.
Aaron wrote on our old website:
Gigs those days were formidable affairs. They last from like 4pm through to 10 in the evening. And that is discounting the stage set-up and other logistics. It was for a good cause though, designed to give as many local bands as the organizers could a chance to showcase what they have.
Each band typically got a half-hour slot, and there normally was a lengthy wait in between performances as the previous band demobs and the next band sets-up and soundchecks. I never understood the bands that brought like 10 pedals and hooked them all up and start soundchecking every sound combination. This took hell of a long time and I rarely appreciate the subtle sound difference in the thick ruckus coming out of the amps on live gigs like these.
A 6 hour gig event meant that there were people constantly streaming in and out as the various bands played, some eating, some talking amongst themselves and even some napping when the band wasn't quite to their taste. But many stuck through to the end. It felt very Bohemian, almost like a commune of like-minded folks getting together for a common cause but each doing their own thing in their own way.
Once in a while the hardcore bands attracted skinheads who came in gangs to see the shows. I am not too sure why but it has ended in fistfights and staring/cursing incidents. I suspect they got high before coming in and when their music came on, drove them into a frenzy and they started making trouble. It usually starts with them moshing and slamming in front of stage and quickly develops into punching each other, then punching other people - who weren't even in the fucking mosh pit!
Subsequently organizers tried to ban skinheads from the gigs, which pissed them off and came anyway in larger numbers and this time with a serious agenda to make issues.
One funny offshoot of these shows is that our necks often hurt the next morning. Bobbing your head over a stretch of 6 hours requires a strong neck!
Our early gigs were very Substation-centric. I think that was because Substation was one of the few venues large enough and whose management actually supported us and charged minimally, if at all.
The scene grew rather quickly in those 1-2 years and soon, alternate gig venues were sprouting up.
It sailed through the air and hit me on the back! It surprised me but I continued playing, wondering for a second whether I was having a back muscle spasm. I turned around to discover that there was no drummer there and Aaron a blur of blue running past me to pick the errant stick.
There was some laughing down there and the song sounded weird for 4 seconds with no percussion. Aaron picked it up and continued, almost seamlessly where he left off.
There was loud applause when the song ended. I was pretty impressed at his composure too.
Aaron wrote on our old website:
Seriously we don't remember what or when this gig is.
I only remember Justin complaining that we had a bad set but Louise and i weren't bothered.
I think we played either a Livonia or Oddfellows cover and Ramones's " She's a Sweet Sensation" or "Rock 'N' Roll Highschool" as cover songs.
Oh yah.........................my drum stick flew out and hit Louise during a song!
malu malu
I only remember Justin complaining that we had a bad set but Louise and i weren't bothered.
I think we played either a Livonia or Oddfellows cover and Ramones's " She's a Sweet Sensation" or "Rock 'N' Roll Highschool" as cover songs.
Oh yah.........................my drum stick flew out and hit Louise during a song!
malu malu
Gigs those days were formidable affairs. They last from like 4pm through to 10 in the evening. And that is discounting the stage set-up and other logistics. It was for a good cause though, designed to give as many local bands as the organizers could a chance to showcase what they have.
Each band typically got a half-hour slot, and there normally was a lengthy wait in between performances as the previous band demobs and the next band sets-up and soundchecks. I never understood the bands that brought like 10 pedals and hooked them all up and start soundchecking every sound combination. This took hell of a long time and I rarely appreciate the subtle sound difference in the thick ruckus coming out of the amps on live gigs like these.
A 6 hour gig event meant that there were people constantly streaming in and out as the various bands played, some eating, some talking amongst themselves and even some napping when the band wasn't quite to their taste. But many stuck through to the end. It felt very Bohemian, almost like a commune of like-minded folks getting together for a common cause but each doing their own thing in their own way.
Once in a while the hardcore bands attracted skinheads who came in gangs to see the shows. I am not too sure why but it has ended in fistfights and staring/cursing incidents. I suspect they got high before coming in and when their music came on, drove them into a frenzy and they started making trouble. It usually starts with them moshing and slamming in front of stage and quickly develops into punching each other, then punching other people - who weren't even in the fucking mosh pit!
Subsequently organizers tried to ban skinheads from the gigs, which pissed them off and came anyway in larger numbers and this time with a serious agenda to make issues.
One funny offshoot of these shows is that our necks often hurt the next morning. Bobbing your head over a stretch of 6 hours requires a strong neck!
Our early gigs were very Substation-centric. I think that was because Substation was one of the few venues large enough and whose management actually supported us and charged minimally, if at all.
The scene grew rather quickly in those 1-2 years and soon, alternate gig venues were sprouting up.
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