The Wake

It is often forgotten how bands begin. They play dingy holes in the wall, arriving five hours prior to their gig, lost in cities that they’ve never been to. They ride around in a not-so-white van for hours until they get to another strange town. Then they get stuck in the middle of Minnesota’s Iron Range, blinded by blizzard conditions, driving on right through the storm.

Last year Tokyo Police Club canceled their Minneapolis date when they got stuck in Minnesota’s harsh winter weather after an arduous two day trek from Toronto, the band’s hometown. Once the band got to its next tour stop in Milwaukee their luck didn’t get much better. When they went to Michael’s Restaurant, across the street from the venue, they were a bit letdown.

“This guy is like, ‘Best food in town,’ and you go in, and on the wall it says, ‘If we overcook your steak we are not responsible,’” lead singer and bassist Dave Monks remembers.

When the four members of the band arrive at 7th Street Entry, their manager and sound tech walk ahead of the musicians, forgoing the heavy lifting. The band members wear skintight jeans and Converse, carrying themselves with a youthful charm. Guitarist Josh Hook bears a Waldo-like sweater with the word Canada and a maple leaf printed in red relief. They carry their instruments over their shoulders, one by one. Laying out equipment on the cramped stage, they nimbly move over and around one another for the next twenty minutes until they’re content with their setup.

After a summer of festivals, the band has recently returned to playing small venues, headlining their first tour, and playing a few gigs with larger bands. Their recent shows with Bloc Party brought their naiveté into sharp relief.

“We just got out of the studio when we played with them, and it was the first time playing in like a month,” Monks says. “And we were like, ‘Wow - this is awesome.’ And then Bloc Party came on with the lights and you’re like, ‘Man we want to be like that someday,’”

Monks humility offstage is a paradox to the bands raucous stage presence. In less than forty-five minutes the band is able to render their small output trivial. Sweating through their shirts, they don’t sound like anybody else. Their supple bass section rebounds off sharp keys and angular guitar riffs that transcend comparisons with their passion.

This being said, the band has had a difficult time dodging their influences. Their concise debut EP, A Lesson in Crime, does sound like The Strokes, and for good reason. Monks cites Is This It as one of his top three albums, but he sees them a just one influence in a long line.

“Between 2002 and 2003 The Strokes, Interpol, Arcade Fire - Broken Social Scene came out with You Forgot it in People,” Monks says.“All those records came out - The White Stripes! Even the Vines and the Hives. All that shit came out over a couple of years. Those, those bands just hit us really hard,”

In concert Monks moves to and from the microphone with a focused zeal, while Hook shyly shouts chants between riffs. Graham Wright’s frantic gestures bring the keyboard to the front of the mix in live standouts Your English is Good and Citizens of Tomorrow. As Wright’s boxy glasses slip off his ash white face, his legs look as though they could cave at any second, but instead they continue to move him from one mechanized gesture to the next. Drummer Greg Alsop has a more refined approach, reminiscent of a boyish Fabrizio Moretti (of The Strokes), sitting coolly near the back of the stage, focused on the next cymbal smash.

At the end of July the band signed to Saddle Creek Records, the Omaha-based independent, home to Bright Eyes and Cursive. At their second consecutive performance at the Pop Montreal Festival in 2006, label head Rob Nansel happened across the band and the rest is history. With the label in tow they hope to release their full length debut next March.

“I’d like say it will come out sooner, but we really want to just take our time and get it right,” Monks explains. “With the first EP we knew exactly what we were going to record to a “t.” But with this one, you record something and then you kind of think about it. You write as you do it because touring really interrupts writing,”

As their set finishes in a whirlwind, Spoon’s Britt Daniels walks out from backstage. The next night at First Avenue, Daniels remarks that he is glad to be back in Minneapolis after playing 7th Street Entry and 400 Bar many times. Their record recently debuted at no. 10 on the Billboard charts after years of consistently great albums. The band has replaced the white van with a big bus. They also have something else they’ve been dying for: cool lights.

Sometimes we forget where our rock stars come from. With the instant success stories of MySpace, the Tokyo Police Clubs of the world look like giants to envious eyes. Reality is a bit grimmer, and a lot more fun. The fevered pitch of their live show isn’t fake; there is no room for posturing. When you’ve got forty minutes to impress, you’ve got to kill. Hopefully with that you can afford to buy a few coats. You know, if you forget them back in Toronto.

Tags: Canada, Indie Rock, Tokyo Police Club