Upon being kicked out of my old band, I promptly placed an ad on Craigslist looking for a new gang of musicians. My standards have never been high: I just wanted to jam with someone who liked beer, wasn’t a sissy and was in to making some noise.
“Looking for a drummer and other musicians in the Plateau/Mile End area. I play guitar and/or bass. Influences: Eric’s Trip, the Deadly Snakes, Melvins, High on Fire.”
A whopping two emails rolled in. The first one was from my girlfriend. “Look at this ad,” she said excitedly. We both had to laugh at that one.
The second was from J. He was a displaced Métis from northern BC – not unlike my own familial background – and he played the drums. Good enough, although, even better, he liked beer and owned a wicked High on Fire shirt.
We began jamming in a sketchy pay-by-the-hour space in Little Italy. It sucked. Then we found a better pay-by-the-hour space by Parc Metro. It was better but it still sucked. Then some friends took us into their proper jam space. Suddenly, Muskeg got a lot better. We played exactly three shows, blew a few minds, and recorded a five song EP.
We are estranged now, but when we get back together the world will flinch at the noise we have yet to unleash.