The Rest of The Story

Well the ashes are smouldering now, but once it was a raging fire. The TEMOS live show, you see, it's a metaphor, not an arson. The appointed time arrived and we took our places. First we ripped off our shirts and threw on our custom-made TEMOS shirts (thanks Katie). I posed a bit, flexed a bit, generally intimidated the male section of the crowd (with an equal, but decidly more seductive effect on the female contingent). Then we flipped the switches and all systems were go. Flash bulbs. The crowd roared like a sea monster. Screams. Scallen, bopping his head. Yes, we had done it.

For those of you not in the know (for shame) the big show doubled as a CD release party, and we played (almost) the whole of the album. So we started with the hot new song "Pet Allergy" and it went...

Well! Can you believe it? We actually played it correctly. Chorus where the chorus goes. Solo here. Head banging here. Massive drum fill - all toms - right here. It all came together, and it was evident, at least to me, that we were NOT, in fact, going to embarass ourselves in front of all of our friends. Yes! We were lucky enough to be joined by our pals Matt "Matt" Deline and Chuck "Shredder" Saso, both of whom played guitar. Yes, it took the combined powers of two men to even approach replacing me.


So here's a picture, taken by my man David Yip, to prove that this isn't just an elaborate hoax.



This is Andy taking off his boots, the better to beat the hell out of the drum kit. Sort of like a fifties dad taking off his belt to teach junior a lesson. The drums held hands and told themselves that it would all be over soon.

Here's another picture.



This is Matt and I competing to see who can feel the most powerful emotion. Brian is in the background trying to remember which note the song starts with.

Things were going great. Then my amp started belching out bad vibrations. Really loud, bad vibrations. Matt looked at me with a look that said "the nuclear reactor is going to blow" or maybe "hey dumbass, your guitar never sounded like a guitar anyways, but this is ridiculous - turn off whatever pedal that is". Woops. Turns out one of us managed to step on just the right cord and disconnected it. BUT THAT'S ROCK AND ROLL. Just play cable hum, man, just do it, as long as you can feel what the song is about. So I turned off the amp, real quick. Problem solved.

The show rocked on. The people seemed to be digging it. Chuck almost lost his place during a blistering solo when a bra came flying at him. It rested on his shoulder for the duration of the song, but he didn't miss a note. A real pro. Here he is:



This picture was taken only seconds before some jackanape cracked wise about playing Freebird. Chuck effortlessly extinguished a cigarette in the middle of the guy's face and told him to head back to Alabama. He left, but his girlfriend stayed behind and got a little friendlier. When the police arrived later we stuck to our stories and didn't give anything away. It wasn't a big deal.

Here's Brian and Chuck and some blurry guy:



Brian is still trying to remember if the note he's looking for is E or G. He figured it out later, though. Chuck is trying to figure out the best way to dispose of a corpse. He figured that out later, too.

Because we are lazy we decided to give oursleves a bit of a rest by including an intermission in our set. Yes that's right, seven songs requires an intermission. We played those songs hard, believe it. Anyways, we entertained questions from the audience - from our handy question box (it was a great coincidence that we had a question box and little cards on hand; god works in mysterious ways). Members of the audience asked very salacious things, and we did our best to satisfy their curiousity while preserving our dignity. We failed.



This is me being a cut-up, and killing time, precious time. I think we managed to stretch seven songs into something like an hour long performance, somehow.

Here's another stunning snapshot, of Andy pointing to a groupie that he had security bring onto the stage.



And finally, here's Matt having a chuckle:



He had just thought of a funny limerick, the punchline of which he forgot after the show, unfortunately. Art comes not without sacrifice.

And that was that! The smoke machine worked just as it should have, the lasers were great (came on a little too early, but what can you do?), and the cage dancers really added something powerful and expressive. As far as we were concerned the audience loved it, which is why we didn't ask them if this was true. We're happy with our illusions.

TEMOS live. One night only. An exclusive happening in the heart of our fair city. A venture only for the bold and enterprising. If you were there you will know these words to be true, and furthermore you will say: "please, just one more song".

Our reply: "no".

In the beginning...

If you've stumbled upon this little corner of the internet there's an excellent chance you knew what you were looking for. However! If you were looking for pornography and somehow ended up here by chance and would like to get oriented this post is for you.

Where did Touching Earth Made Of Steel Come From?
Touching Earth Made Of Steel began in 2004 I think? Something like that. I worked at Agriculture Canada at the time, and there met a dude named Jordan Himelfarb (one third of saidthegramophone - a music blog you might wish to check out) who was playing a show with his band The Cay at good old Bumpers on Bank Street in Ottawa. "No glitz, no glamour, just good times and good friends" was their slogan. Sure. Anyway, I performed under the moniker "Babies Don't Race" and did a droney atonal remix of The Cay's album with a computer and some synthesizers. It was not exactly a hit with the audience. However, when I was done a guy who'd been watching, whom I knew casually from the local record store, helped me pack up my stuff and then asked me if I had any interest in maybe playing with him and his friend sometime. For some unknown reason I said yes, and actually meant it. That guy was one Andy Cant.

Editor's Note
If you play music at all, if you even whistle a tune from time to time, someone whom you don't really know will eventually say to you: hey man, we should jam sometime. This is such a frequent occurrence that it must actually work more than one could ever realize. There are grave consequences if you accept these types of offers. The likely outcome: sitting around a junky basement "jamming" with some shady guys in too-tight shirts who won't look you in the eye. For the uninitiated, jamming of this type in fact amounts to someone playing a musical part that they pretend is "just something I made up" (really they've been imagining serenading beautiful women with the riff for months, the fantasy growing more detailed and intoxicating as time elapses) and everyone else not really paying attention and playing solos. It's awesome.

So I soon found myself in Andy's living room with him and his pal Brian Martin. Brian barely said a word. Since I'd been recruited on the strength of my electronic "music" I had brought a pair of Korg MS-10 synthesizers with me, paying no mind to the fact that I couldn't play two synthesizers at once. We screwed around for what seemed an eternity and made horrible music. Then I went home.

The strange part, though, is that some time shortly thereafter we did it again (this time I brought a guitar). And then again. And suddenly we were a band, of sorts. We were called The New Spring Line, and changed our name with the seasons. I played guitar (which I am barely capably of actually playing) as minimally as possible, Brian played guitar (which he can play, thank god), and Andy played bass (which he insists he cannot play, but the facts suggest a different conclusion) and programmed a crappy drum machine. No one sang.

Thanks to the endless pity of show promoters we managed to play a few shows, and I honestly have no idea if we were any good. Our friends and family were excellent actors. Nonetheless we had fun, and amassed something like a hundred bucks for pizza, as memory serves. But then disaster struck! Andy joined a cult.

In our next episode we will reveal the shocking conclusion!

- Jeremy