Preview
WHITEY HOUSTON
Saturday, December 20
Night Gallery
They make one powerful impression.
In my best of 2001 column I declared "Wham bam – one hell of a two-man jam," in homage to Whitey Houston’s performance opening for The Smalls at their now legendary goodbye forever concert. And I am more than delighted to report that two years later Whitey’s dynamic duo are still alive and kickin’ –barely.
According to bassist Lyle Bell, his skin-pounding cohort Gravy is now also known as The Cardiac Kid. This after Gravy experienced heart problems while performing in Edmonton some years ago.
"He had to take a really long break during the show, and in the end wound up going to the hospital. But, he’s totally cut back on the caffeine and beer and is feeling much better these days," explains Bell.
A good thing, too, as Whitey Houston’s finely tuned rock machine relies entirely on the unspoken communication between percussionist and strummer. This precarious but effective formula has evolved out of the temporary dissolution of another Edmontonian rock ensemble, Slow Fresh Oil.
"We are a two-piece by virtue of the fact that the other guy had to fuck off for a while." Bell and Gravy continued to book shows under the Whitey Houston moniker. "Basically, we are Slow Fresh Oil minus Brent Oliver. I was still playing guitar at first, but found that having one less person in the band gave us the freedom to go hell bent. And the more rockin’ it got, the more we liked it, so we shit-canned all of the older and slower tunes we had been playing right into the pooper. We added a second amp and now I play bass in stereo with an old rock format. It’s significantly different from what we were doing before."
Oddly enough, Slow Fresh Oil didn’t die a cold and forgotten death. Bell and Gravy have continued to perform, tour and record with Oliver, even taking the stage in Calgary and Edmonton’s respective versions of Moustache Rock, as the over-the-top Knights in White Satan.
"I’ve always despised cover bands," says Bell, "but the Knights were entirely whimsical. Guitar music tends to get so layered with crap on top… I really started to shun and hate guitar music for many reasons. It just became boring, and I started steering in other directions. The stripped-down form of Whitey makes so much sense, Gravy lays down the bass lines and leaves the harmony for me."
Presently, Bell has found his urban hermit’s refuge in a former crack house in Edmonton, which he purchased and is in the process of refurbishing himself. Here in his personal recording studio, Bell hopes to "squeeze out" Whitey Houston’s own full-length debut – that is, if his numerous other projects don’t distract him first.
His most recent obsession: unobtrusively placing a tape recorder on a table at a busy party, and then splicing up the resulting "Crack house karaoke" together on his reel to reel.
Despite the admitted risk of total "financial sodomization" Bell confesses he is still leaning towards producing a future Whitey Houston release on vinyl. In the meantime, it’s all about the live action, as Lyle Bell and Gravy churn chunky waves across the province.
Looking forward to their appearance at the Night Gallery, Bell emphasizes that all of the bands performing that night will be two-piece operations. Something Whitey Houston is very comfortable with.
"Our approach is straight-ahead and bombastic. Really, working as a tight two-piece has spoiled us. It’s so easy for Gravy and I to read each other (that) we can play spontaneously. When you go back and start playing with other people again I realize what a chore it is to communicate. Of course, having one less guy in the band also means having one less guy to carry gear. And one less guy to drive the van when you’re fucked up." |
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