Friday, January 22, 2010
Atmospheric band turns the brown upside down
Empty space, church acoustics, construction noise music to The Beige's ears
CREDIT: Rick Maddocks (left) and his band get beigey Jan. 23 at St. Paul's Anglican Church.
Judging by the innocuous colour of his band's new CD, the bland chino hue of its accompanying press release and the suggestion from the band's publicist to conduct the interview at Helen's Grill over a brownish breakfast, it would seem Rick Maddocks has fully embraced the name of his band, The Beige.
"People have a knee jerk reaction that beige equals boring or bland, but for us it was a bit tongue in cheek," says Maddocks on the phone from his Burnaby home, the colour of which was not discussed. "Instead of trying to jump out at the audience, we wanted take a more introverted approach to playing and pulling people in as opposed to trying to grab them by the scruff of the neck. So in some way the name kind of influenced the way we approached things."
If the songs on El Angel Exterminador are any indication--a spooky dust storm of Latin-tinged drinking songs, work songs, love songs and death songs that would fit nicely on the record shelf alongside Calexico and Howe Gelb--beige and all of its earth-caked shades is an apt colour for the self-described atmospheric pop and jazz band. Then again, so is umber, although calling yourself The Umber runs the risk of being mistaken for an electronic goth band. Just saying...
In addition to Maddocks, who sings and plays guitar and keyboards, The Beige is rounded out by local music scene ringers Andrew Arida on piano, organ and accordion, drummer Geoff Gilliard, Mark Haney on double bass and Jon Wood on guitar, lap steel and dobro. Together they bring a potent level of musicianship to the mix, which could easily derail into self-indulgent jam sessions considering the band's proclivity for improvising both live and in the studio. To their credit, The Beige keeps the wanking in check. In fact, the album's only obvious improv exercise--the album closer "Fin"--which revolves around a field recording of a construction site at Trout Lake park, is more ethereal than excessive.
"There is restraint, and we listen a lot," Maddocks says. "For us, space is really important... It's not a case of showing off your chops but making sure it's at the service of the song."
Another element Maddocks makes sure is at service of the song is his lyrics. The author of the 2001 short story collection Sputnik Diner, creative writing instructor at Douglas College and editor of literary journal Event Magazine, Maddocks says his lyrics always come after the music is written. Still, there are plenty of inspired moments fuelling The Beige music machine, particularly "I Got A Job In The Belly Of The Beast" with such deft lines as "True love on the factory floor. Hey, hey, danger pay./We couldn't kiss through the masks that we wore; we just licked the plastic."
"It's that surreal combination of a love story and this awful work environment," says Maddocks who worked in a steel factory when he was younger and living in Ontario. "I used to work 12-hour night shifts and watch the blast furnace, the huge white hot flames and molten metal being poured in the middle of nowhere at this plant in the middle of the night... It's not a heavenly place."
Speaking of heavenly places, The Beige celebrates the release of its new CD Jan. 23, 7:30 p.m. at St. Paul's Anglican Church. With its indoor labyrinth and haunting acoustics, the West End Gothic Revival structure is a fitting venue for the band whose previous CD release concert for their debut album 01 took place under the stars of the HR MacMillan Space Centre.
As for band merchandise at the show, don't expect any custom-made robes, crucifixes or factory masks. Although, you never know what you might find lurking around the T-shirt table.
"We're still working on the merch," admits Maddocks. "We did joke that we should just have beige T-shirts with the word 'the' on them. But that has yet to materialize."
Michael Kissinger
mkissinger@vancourier.com
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