Here are four stories about how four different rock acts reacted to my accordion. As luck would have it, telling them in chronological order is also telling them in order of ascending superstardom. Enjoy!
(The title for this blog entry is inspired by the silly movie title Shaolin vs. Ninja.)
Challenge #1: Accordion vs. Moe Berg (The Pursuit of Happiness)
Friday, June 6th, mid-afternoon
Fortune had favoured us. While enjoying a walk down Queen Street West, which was unusually busy thanks to the North By Northeast music festival taking place that weekend, Meryle and I ran into a friend of hers: a band member from the filthabilly band White Cowbell Oklahoma. He was standing outside the Roots store, which was closed to the public for an “industry party”. Meryle’s friend used his rock star powers to put us on the guest list, and we were soon tucking into the hors d’oeuvres and drinking free Stella Artois.
“Look,” said Meryle, “it’s Moe Berg!”
The name won’t be familiar to most people outside Canada. Moe’s best known for his work in the mid- to- late-eighties in his band, The Pursuit of Happiness.
Meryle’s eyes widened and she flashed that hyena-on-acid grin. “Joey, you have to play something by The Pursuit of Happiness!”
I can’t even remember the last time I played my Love Junk CD.
“Ummm…I think I can fake my way through I’m an Adult Now.” It was their first big single and its chords for the most part are the Holy Trinity of Rock and Roll, E – G – A.
“Do it! Do it do it do it do it do it do it do it do it!”
“Let’s see,” I said, as I switched the accordion from Backpack Mode to Unlikely Force Of Rock Mode and started from a point in the middle of the song:
I don’t write songs about girls anymore
I have to write songs about women
No more boy meets girl boy loses girl
More like man tries to figure out what the hell went wrong
‘Cause I’m an adult now
I’m an adult now
I’ve got the problems of an adult
On my head and on my shoulders
I’m an adult now
Moe looked startled at first, and then threw a confused glance in my direction. Meryle was doubled over in laughter and pointing at him, and when I finished the chorus, he was looking at me as if I were some kind of deranged accordion-wielding lunatic. I walked up to him and shook his hand.
“Hey, Moe, love your work. I’m a fan, and this is my tribute to you.”
“That was kind of cool,” said Moe. “Weird…but cool. Thanks.”
Meryle was still giggling after the exchange. “He probably thinks we were laughing at him. And you know what? I was!”
“You are a cruel and twisted girl, you know that?”
Challenge #2: Accordion vs. Chris Murphy (Sloan)
I spent most of the Saturday of the North by Northeast weekend working, but took time to catch White Cowbell Oklahoma’s end-of-the-night concert at the El Mocambo. Naturally, Meryle was right at the front, standing on one of the loudspeakers yelling herself hoarse. They put on a great show — as they always do — and afterwards, we hung out outside while I busked.
“You know, I was going to take my top off and flash the band, but I didn’t!” declared Meryle proudly.
Welcome to your impulse control years, Meryle, I thought. We’ve been waiting for you.
The busking was going well. One guy gave me ten bucks just for playing the Police’s So Lonely so that he could sing along.
I don’t know how Meryle can spot them, but she’s got some kind of sixth sense that allows her to detect rock stars.
“Joey! It’s Chris from Sloan!”
Once again, Sloan may not be familiar to people outside Canada, but they were — at least until their current album, which ain’t so hot — a band with a knack for really good songwriting.
“Play some Sloan! Do you know any Sloan? Play some Sloan!” she screamed.
I started playing their first big single, the grunge anthem of unrequited university love, Underwhelmed:
She was underwhelmed if that’s a word
I know it’s not ’cause I looked it up
It’s one of those things I learned in my school…
Chris’ face first showed curiosity. Then it showed recognition. Followed by shock. And then we didn’t see his face at all.
“He’s…he’s running away!” said Meryle, who burst out laughing.
“Come back, you coward!” I yelled. “Even Alanis would’ve faced me!”
Challenge #3: Accordion vs. Sum 41
Last Wednesday was this month’s installment of Kickass Karaoke at the Bovine Sex Club. I arrived in the middle of a story about the upcoming SARS benefit concert that Carson, the host, was telling the audience. Kickass Karaoke was going to be part of the event, but a lot of silliness and politics put an end to that.
Carson saw me enter the room and told the audience “…and you know what? One of the people I thought of immediately as a performer was the Accordion Guy!”
“Aw, thanks, Cars!” I yelled.
“That’s right, the Accordion Guy is as big a rock star as any of these people — did you see him on MuchMusic? Avril’s going to be at the concert, and she would have met Accordion Guy, and she’d have let him take her virginity. I can’t think of a nicer person to do it, either.”
“She’s a little young for me, Cars.”
My friend Eldon, who came with me, couldn’t resist chiming in: “Joey’s been taking the virginities of Kingston-area girls for years!”
(Avril’s hometown of Napanee is next to Kingston, where I studied for a Van Wilder-esque eight years at Crazy Go Nuts University.)
“That’s a half-truth,” I replied.
Late into the evening, a ragtag collection of familiar faces entered the room: local international rock band Sum 41. By strange coincidence, they’re known for causing havoc in bars with Avril. They didn’t know what to make of the accordion, and when I backed up Erik on Seven Nation Army (yes, there are karaoke versions of White Stripes songs already), they were pointing to the accordion with bewildered expressions. Although I’m not a lip-reader, the sentence “What the fuck?!” is very easy to spot.
“Dude,” one of them — I can’t remember whom — said to me later, pointing to the accordion, “that is some fucked up shit.”
Later that evening, while trying to decide whether or not to stop by Amato’s for some pizza, Eldon suggested to one of the Sum 41 guys that he try on the accordion.
“Oh no, man, I don’t…touch keyboards. I don’t get them at all.”
That’s right, punkass. Fear the accordion.
Challenge #4: Accordion vs. Avril Lavigne
Funny that Avril got mentioned in the last story…
Neither I nor the accordion were present for this tale. We were at the Om Festival, a five-hour drive away.
Avril Lavigne was on Queen Street doing interviews at MuchMusic prior to the MuchMusic Video Awards that took place this past weekend. She was probably in the very same studio where I had skillfully deconstructed her hit single Sk8er Boi just a week before. During a break, she decided to go walk down Queen Street and ended up at Your Good Health, where my friend Char works.
Avril looked about the store. “Why don’t you sell any food here?” she asked.
“Well, we did before, but it just didn’t sell well, so we stopped,” answered Char.
“I’d buy food here if you had it.”
And how often do you come here, you twerp? thought Char.
“You know,” said Char, “I was thinking that maybe you should have an accordion in your band.”
“Uh….why?”
“Well, I just like accordions.” said Char, who probably was enjoying the inside joke.
“Oh,” replied Avril. She left the store shortly afterwards, probably thinking gee, health food store hippies are weird.
(Well there goes my chance at selling out, becoming a corporate rock whore, appearing on MTV Cribs and creamed-corn-wrestling the entire female cast of American Pie. Thanks, Char. Thanks for nothing. 
)
