Visible through a west-facing window, the SkyTrain glides
by against the distant backdrop of downtown office towers as
night falls. Inside the Faceplant rehearsal space, cofounders
Mr. E. (it's his stage name) and William Plut, as well as
production manager Shannon Hallett, are warming up to the
subject of the Vancouver institution's place in the local
music scene.
For instance: if it wasn't for the Clark Drive facility,
bands such as Auto Pussy, Death Dentist, Fur Bin, Lunar
Marmots, Pablo Cruiser, Satina Saturnina, and the Real
McKenzies might never have had a place to hone their skills
before unleashing themselves upon an unsuspecting Vancouver
public. And that's just a fraction of the groups, from the
well-known to the obscure, that have graced the East Side
institution since cofounders Plut, Mr. E., and several
acquaintances first opened its doors to needy bands 10 years
ago.
To celebrate this milestone anniversary, Plut, E., and
their friends are having a party. This Friday (August 16) at
the ANZA Club, the seventh annual installment of Facefest
features no fewer than a dozen bands playing 15-minute sets
for a measly six-dollar cover charge. Acts will range from
newer Faceplant devotees like Veronica, which features a trio
of bass players and one drummer, to early Faceplant regulars
Aging Youth Gang.
In fact, Aging Youth Gang was one of four bands
instrumental in getting Faceplant off the ground. Along with
Four Food Groups of the Apocalypse, Stick Monkey, and Little
Heads Are Soft, the punk group found itself searching for a
practice space back in the days when grunge ruled. Unsatisfied
with what was available, the musicians scoured the city's
commercial districts before they found the Clark Drive
location, then a clothing sweatshop, and set about turning it
into a rock-friendly destination.
"Basically, I didn't like what I'd seen of or heard about
other rehearsal spaces in the city," says Mr. E. "They were
either too far or security wasn't the greatest."
Faceplant not only boasts 24-hour security, but E. says the
atmosphere is such that musicians can leave their equipment
for months without fear of it disappearing. He cites the
example of one former regular who returned after six months to
find a guitar cord in exactly the same place she'd left it, on
top of someone's amp.
Adding to the homey feel is Piewacket, a black-and-orange
tabby who has his own page on the space's Web site (www.faceplant.org/).
Seated on a swivel chair, the jaded feline is oblivious to the
comings and going of musicians as singer-songwriter Sanné
Lambert and noisy rockers Motorama trade off with Salmon Arm
and an unnamed duo for the 9 p.m. switch. (Practice times are
6 to 9 p.m. and 9 p.m. to midnight.) Meanwhile, a few metres
away, musician, Radio Thunderbird Hell host, and
all-around helpful Faceplanter Evan Symons tinkers with his
24-track recording equipment in the closet-size control room.
