Caution: genius at work

>> Canada's greatest band, No Means No, stay on the level

by JOHNSON CUMMINS

I promised my editor I would only use the word "genius" once when describing Canada's greatest band, No Means No. Not an easy task, considering the g-word fits this trio of musical mad scientists like a glove.

Their latest release, One, shows them continuing to poke and agitate typical song formulae, never stooping to placate the listener with musical regurgitation of previous successes. Even the most seasoned No Means No fan's jaw will drop when they hear the adventurous retooling of Miles Davis' "Bitches Brew," and if that's not enough, they follow it up with a midtempo rock rendition of the Ramones' "Beat On the Brat." Now that's just downright ballsy.

"With the exception of the recurring melody, we really didn't stick to the original version of 'Bitches Brew' too much," explains bassist/singer Rob Wright. "I had just gotten the Bitches Brew box set and was listening to it a lot, so I ended up demoing it and played it for the band and they liked it, so we just did it."

Lyrically, Wright hits new plateaus this time around by continuing to create desperate characters who lurk in the shadows. Wright feeds these characters barbed lines like, "Tangled intravenous tubes, the smell of alcohol and glue/A dildo candle in a skull, you know the routine very well" ("A Little Too High") or, "Muezzins call from their minarets/Monks bow from their beggar bowls while Christians smoke their cigarettes" ("Our Town").

"They're definitely characters that are filtered through me but I'm just a character too, no more important than the characters I create," says Wright. Occasionally, because of No Means No's bombastic musical prowess, Wright's lyrical pearls get overlooked. On One Wright speaks though urban characters such as night watchmen, junkies and prank phone-callers. All of them seemed trapped in purgatory conditions and are so well developed it seems that Wright's talents could easily work in novel form. "Well, I write short fiction as a hobby," he says modestly. "I'll write something and then go back to it after a while and end up thinking it's not very good. I think musicians writing is like watching musicians act--it's usually not very good."

Now, on the eve of their 20th anniversary, No Means No have seen first-hand the D.I.Y. independent scene wither and bend to corporate intentions. "When we started, there was this great community set up where people were into helping out bands. Punk rock back then was really similar to the essence of folk music. Sadly, I really don't think that exists anymore. Now I see a lot of bands and people who are at one level and are just waiting to get to the next level. It's more like a farm team now.

"For a band like us, we've pretty much stayed at the same level over the past couple of years and that's fine. People won't see us every time we come to town but every now and again we will get a flood where people will say, 'No Means No is in town, let's go and see them,' and I can't ask for more than that."

With Removal and Line 3 at Foufounes Electriques on Wednesday, Nov. 22, 8:30pm, $14