A few years ago, when I was living in Edmonton AB, I get a phone call one day from my roommate, Sans Nom. He and a couple of our friends got a bit carried away with some Sunday morning hair-of-the-dogs and decided they were going to start a band. He said it was going to be a pop-punk project called “The Rhubarbs” in honor of the massive plant in our backyard that everyone chose as the pisser (Sans wanted to do a surf-rock band called “the Wet-Suit Boners” but no one was quite drunk enough to go for that).
I was stoked about the idea, but took it with a grain of salt.
Now here it is, two years later and the Rhubarbs is so much more than a drunken Sunday’s afterthought, and not even close to a pop-punk project.
I feel quite privileged to have gotten to witness their evolution first hand, as the jam-space they inhabited was in the single car garage directly below my bedroom. Many times I would come home from wherever I was and already be able to hear them before I even set foot on the porch. I would silently join them for some stray Lucky lagers in the cramped garage and just watch them find their groove. Sans had been in quite a few bands before but this was the first time he was manning the creative helm. The same went for Handsome Pat on the drums, Mike M. on Bass, and Sean M. on rhythm. It was going to be a very intentionally different project from things they had done before. The sum of their enthusiasm began to move the band into a strange direction creating a melting pot of everyone`s collective tastes. Sans brought the 70`s guitar wankery he was such a connoisseur of as well as a sludgey Type O/Eyehategod heaviness. Mike was a lo-fi, Poison Idea/Battalion of Saints, early 80’s hardcore fanatic whose favorite album of all time is Beck’s “Mellow Gold”. Pat and Sean took care of the poppier Ramones element, all of them were jamming on Fucked Up, and they all had a similarly retarded sense of humor. The result is what our mutual friend, Hemlox Wolfbane recently described as “Bear-hunting-surf-rock”, whatever the hell that is. There is a definite punk foundation to the songs, but they simultaneously throw around a heavy rock swagger, while Sans’ lyrical content ranges from the obscure and hilarious to the deeply personal, all peppered with face-melting solos throughout.
The best part about the Rhubarbs, however, is they are fun. Fun to listen to, fun to watch, they leave me smiling every time. Even the jams in our garage, which could be repetitive and boring, were almost more fun than the shows they have played since. I’ll never forget the twenty minute plus “My War” jam, where everyone took turns doing their best Henry Rollins tantrum, or coming home on the heels of a totally garbage day and getting to sing “Kabuki Girl” with them.
So two years on and things can only get better. Having recorded a handful of songs this summer, year three will see the boys release either an album or a couple seven-inches, tour in support, continue writing, continue rocking, and I personally can’t wait.
Keep your eyes peeled for these guys; you wouldn’t want to miss it.
Check ’em out here:
Red-Face Bag-Eyes Good Vibrations 