The Songs All Sound The Same
An unofficial biography of the Shadowy Men
An unsanctioned biography by Skip Truant, copyright Christmas 1986 on the VERGE publications.
At last! The true uncensored document of the Shadowy Men's rise to fame. The Songs All Sound The Same takes you the sleazy clubs, swindling record companies, bar room brawls, drug induced stupors, plus all the energy and magic of the late seventies in Toronto. Captured on paper at last is the epitomizing biography of the Shadowy Men.
The Concept
Don Pyle came barrelling out the front doors of Parkdale Collegiate on his skateboard, taking the flight of ten concrete stairs at full speed. He crashed, naturally, slicing the left side of his head open.
Nonchalantly, he wiped the blood dripping down his cheek. He didn't care. That's why he had a mohawk, so his hair didn't get matted. Swiftly he remounted and kicked his way over to 16 Glen Road.
When he got there, he sped up the walk attempting to jump the porch steps. He cleared the first but the board was caught on the second and he tumbled through the doorway. Luckily, there was no door. His friends, Reid Diamond and Brian Connelly, didn't worry about being robbed; on the contrary, they hoped an unsuspecting victim might wander in.
Don found Reid in a mildly drunken state, normal for mid-afternoon. After all, he'd only been up an hour and had not had time to drink much. Reid drank Black Label and nothing but, certainly not the John Labbatt Classics enjoyed by wimps.
Brian was sprawled in a corner, filling his lungs with the contents of a plastic bag with a generous puddle of contact cement in the bottom. He held it momentarily before exhaling and collapsing completely. As he lay on the floor, he scratched his armpits and crotch absently; he had not bathed or shaved in two weeks in an effort to find himself.
Reid was placing a record on his delapidated turntable. It had neither a cover or a label and was introduced by a preamble of scratches.
Brian had rolled over and was picking his nose in a desperate attempt to reach a terrible itch on his brain.
Suddenly, there was an explosion of sound as the record revealed itself to be The Ramones: Rocket To Russia.
Don was immediately up and in the centre of the floor doing his best Joey Ramone. Reid, holding a strawless broom, legs spread wide, was Dee Dee. Brian was deciding whether the itch on his arm was lice or a cry for more heroin. Uncertain, he drove a screwdriver into the bottom of a can of Lysol and held it above his head allowing the liquid to trickle off the shaft on to his tongue.
"Man, we could do this!" exclaimed Reid.
"What do you mean? We are doing it," said Don.
"No man, I mean we could be rock stars like The Ramones!"
"But we don't have any instruments," said Don less than enthusiastically.
"Don't worry, we'll get instruments!"
"But we don't know how to play."
"Rock & roll is just image. All we need is a good name, and I got it."
"What's that?" asked Don, starting to come around.
"We'll be called The Sexy Men on a Shadowy Pistol."
Don didn't need to hear anything else. He was sold.
"We'll go get the instruments tonight," said Reid, "as soon as Brian dries out."
"How long will that take?" asked Don.
"He's usually okay after he's had something to eat," Reid replied.
Not having anything else Don picked a piece of the scab off the side of his head and flicked it over to Brian.
The Means
That night, the trio assembled around a rather post Rosedale residence, and quietly made their way 'round to the back door. All wore sneakers for a quick getaway. All except Brian, that is, who wore combat boots but had consumed a generous helping of amphetamines for the purpose.
"Hey Reid," whispered Don, "Who lives here anyway?"
"Don't worry about that, just follow me and don't make any noise." Reid deftly jimmied the lock with a well-sterlized screwdriver.
As they descended the stairs to the basement, the sound of someone playing an acoustic guitar and singing could be heard from the floow above.
At suppertime, the old cook came on deck saying "fellas it's too rough to feed ya …"
"Christ, Reid, where the hell are we?"
"Quiet!" his friend demanded.
By this time they were downstairs, surrounded by instruments in what appeared to be a very elaborate hom recording studio.
A voice wafted down from above:
At seven PM the main hatchway caved in.
He said "fellas, it's been good to know ya …"
"Holy shit," whispered Don, "this is Gordon Lightfoot's house."
And later that night when his lights went out of sight came the wreck of The Edmund Fitzgerald…
"Hey, we could play that!" exclaimed Brian.
There was a shuffle of feet upstairs. Quickly, the boys grabbed whatever they could and ran out the back door.
The Song
The next day they were back at 16 Glen Road setting up their booty. Reid was indeed Dee Dee with the bass slung 'round his neck and shoulder, Brian had chosen the guitar, and Don sat behind the drums with a microphone.
"What should we play," asked Reid, "Louie, Louie?"
"How about Wild Thing?" suggested Brian.
"No, none of that," said Don, with the voice of authority as it was he who was going through the PA. "We have to redefine rock & roll. Create an original sound."
Don was trying to be brief as he feared he was losing Brian when he spotted him combing through his nostril hairs with the brush from a bottle of Liquid Paper.
"We've got to be political," he continued, "We'll sing about the oppression and anarchy around us."
"But there's not oppression or anarchy around us," said Reid, less than enthusiastically.
"Then we'll go back in history until we find some." Don was undaunted. "We'll be the most fiercely nationalistic band in the history of Canada."
A week later, they had written their first song. It began with the sound of marching boots, machine-gun drums, sliding power chords, and an intermittent thud for a bass line. Then Don came in with the lyrics:
I don't want a holiday in Parliament
I want to go to the Red River Settlement
I want to help out the Métis
But now I'm up for treason by the RCMP
Oh, now I'm up for treason
Now I'm up for treason
Now I'm up for treason
On death row waiting
Now I'm up for treason
Now I'm up for treason
And I'm waiting
Louis Riel …
(Shadowy Webmaster's note for non-Canadians: Here's an article on Louis Riel, the Métis, and the Red River Settlement from the University of Saskatchewan.)
The Gig
A week later they had their first gig at The Edge. They took the stage shortly after ten PM clad in black leather and torn jeans. Brian wore his combat boots, a black leather jock strap, and nothing else.
Don introduced them by saying, "If you don't know who we are by now you're fucking stupid."
The crowd immediately began to bombard the stage with beer bottles, but Reid deftly deflected most of the projectiles with his face.
By the time they reached the first chorus of Holidays In Parliament, the barrage ceased. The crowd began to recognize the music for what it was, an answer to the pain and anguish deep inside each of them over the death of Louis Riel. They became restless as they realized their ignorance and wanted the band to tell them more.
At this point, the band revealed its second song:
God save the Prime Minister
Call him Mister Sinister
His clothes smell of boron
And exhibits at the ROM
After the first verse, Brian collapsed on stage from excessive drink. Shortly after, the speed began to take effect and he became the unwitting creator of the worm.
Success
True North Records signed the band the next day, and a complete album, entitled Never Mind The Inuit, Here's The Sexy Men on a Shadowy Pistol, was released before the end of the week.
Hanna Gartner had the trio on Take 30 for an interview that Friday.
"How does it feel to be the fathers of a new wave in Canadian music?" she began most eloquently.
There was silence from the boys.
She tried again. "How does it feel to be the spokespersons for a generation some hundred years after the fact?"
Again there was silence.
"Don't you boys have anything to say?" She was exasperated.
The boys were silent. Reid looked around, then stared straight into the camera and began to speak:
"Fuck."
The Scandal
The scandal was incredible. The album received no airplay, stores refused to stock it, clubs wouldn't book the band. The boys were washed up before they had ever really gotten started.
Loose Ends
That night, having reached a loose end, the three friends headed down to the Cabana Room to watch their arch rivals, The Dunnobodywells.
Scarry Gary, Pot Ash, Richy Wigwam, and Hairy Teary were on stage playing their big hits Oshawa's Burning and Working For The Hydro. When they saw the former Sexy Men on a Shadowy Pistol they stopped playing and Scarry Gary introduced a new song.
This one's for Don, Reid, and Brian. Two, three, four …"
They're in love with Joey Ramone
They sleep in a no parking zone
Come and gone has their day
'Cause they ain't got no place to play
Don ran up on stage and pushed the microphone into Scarry Gary's throat. Reid dove for Richy Wigwam but missed and tumbled through the skin of the bass drum. Brian had collapsed at the door when they first entered.
Jimmy came out from behind the bar.
"Hey you crazy kids, get the hell out of my place." He chucked Reid and Don down the stairs, who landed on Brian, who had rolled down moments earlier. "And don't come back for six years."
Epilogue
The next day they were distraught.
"What will we do," asked Reid. "We've got no place to go."
The police were impounding their equipment as they spoke.
"Not really," said Don, looking on the bright side. "Jimmy did say we could come back in six years."
"Yeah, he did. What a nice guy."
"So we'll re-form six years from now, and we'll do it all different."
"Yeah, we'll be nice guys, clean cut. We'll play nice music without swearing in the lyrics."
"No swearing?" Don wasn't sure he could handle that.
"Well, if you can't, we won't have any words at all," declared Reid.
"No words?"
"Words will not be our friends."
"People could make up their own words!"
"Yup. All we need is a name, and I got the perfect one."
"What's that?"
"The Shadowy Men On A Shadowy Pistol."