BLUE MIDNIGHT AT THE CAMERON HOUSE
Jake Chisholm Swings Smarter Than The Average Gap Commercial

By: Janine Stoll

 

Blah. Monday. Blah. Blah. Cold. Winter. Cold. Cold. Seeking refuge for the cold Monday night blahs? Queen Street has your time machine, boys and girls. Slip and slide your way to the Cameron House on a Monday evening and be transported to a 1940's smoke-filled club filled with hep cats and zoot suits. Well, not quite. The Swing resurgence is a long-gone phenomenon. But hit the front room of the Cameron on a Monday and there you shall find Jake and the Blue Midnights filling the old converted theatre with the sweet sounds of Swing and Jump Jazz.

I decided to interview Jake Chisholm of the Blue Midnights (as my premier artist interview), because, not only did his entourage of tight and stellar musicians kick some swingin' ass, but they had the ability to do exactly what music should do - transport, inspire, emote and just make you feel darn good that you dragged your butt off the couch on a lazy Monday evening.

Jake and I settled in for a chat at Shopsy's on my lunch break, where I grilled him about his music and motivations. The first thing that struck me about Jake was his class. He's a gentle and striking fellow straight out a wartimes movie. Or maybe I see that just because of the genre of music that he creates and re-creates so well. Just hear one note from this dude's throat and your sent sailing by his sweet crooning.

 

The Greats, The States and 78s

J.S. How did you get into Swing?

J.C. When I was a teenager I listened to Rock n' Roll and I was curious how they learned to play it. I would read an interview with someone like say Jimi Hendrix and he'd say, "I used to listen to Muddy Waters". So I'd listen to Muddy Waters. Kind of like a progression going backwards through African-American music.

J.S. So you descended back and found your niche?

J.C. Well, niche is a funny word, 'cause I listen to all kinds of music. But I've found something that I really identify with.

J.S. Did you go to school or have a specific teacher?

J.C. I went to school for a year in BC. I had about eight teachers, but I've mostly learned through listening to records. Since I came to Toronto I've had several musicians take me under their wing and teach me lots of stuff. Like Terry Wilkins, even people like Jeff Healy for a while. He had a really big record collection. It was cool having access to all of the music that he had. Walls and walls of records and 78s. Even a lot of the guys in the Blue Midnights went to school and they teach you how to practice better, give you ideas and we basically just help each other out.

J.S. Did you have a band before you came to Toronto?

J.C. I actually fell into it by accident. I was travelling through the States, just backpacking, playing guitar, and hangin' out. I got to Memphis and I ran out of money. I had come from BC to Nevada, Mexico, and I tried to get a job. I didn't have a green card, so that was rough. I decided to head to the closest Canadian city, so I came here. Right away I met some really great people. I went to a show at the Horseshoe and met a few people and we went to an open stage at the Black Swan. I went there and met a good friend of mine, Jesse Barksdale. I met some really great blues musicians who had a lot to offer me in terms of teaching me what they know.

 

The Blue Midnights

J.S. How did the Blue Midnights come to be?

J.C. The Blue Midnights were kind of a different incarnation. We had myself on guitar, a drummer, Matt Walker, and Jesse Barksdale, my guitar player friend, used to play bass lines on guitar because we didn't have a bass player. We were also trying to model the band after the Lou Walters band. We had a harmonica player and we were a blues band for the first little while. We did a few gigs around town, played in a little place on Adelaide called Killing Time, played at 525 West on Bloor Street, and all these funny little places. Then, I don't know, I had always been a big fan of T-Bone Walker, and actually Gary Kendall gave me a Louis Jordan cassette. I think it was like Jordan for President or something like that. I approached the band and asked if maybe they wanted to try something a little different. There were mixed reviews. Half they guys were like, "No, we do what we do, we wanna play blues". But Jesse and I at first were like, yeah, lets play some jazz and broaden the scope. We went out to a Tip Top Tailors sale and bought some cheep suits. We looked like a couple of bankers.

 

Gap In the Market For Selling Passing Fads

J.S. So you think Swing is a passing fad?

J.C. Yeah I do. I actually think it's passed.

J.S. You guys still seem to pull in a decent crowd for a cold Monday night at the Cameron House.

J.C. Yeah, that was our first in-house gig. But it's funny, you know, 'cause we were playing the whole swing thing before this Gap commercial stuff ever happened. Even that's becoming ancient history now. I'm kinda glad, though, because now people come out because they know the band is good and not just because it's trendy. The focus for us was never about zoots or dancing, it was always about the music.

J.S. I think it's really interesting how you pull in all of these players from all over the city. I've seen a lot of your musicians doing different things in different bands. It's all a labour of love to just get to play music of all kinds to make a living. When you were at your peak, did you guys make a lot of money?

J.C. We were getting booked a lot. But a lot of money is pretty relative because compared to a guy that works on Bay Street.... But for being a musician, it was a pretty good living.

 

Dirt From The Road

J.S. Any horror stories from touring? Any stalkers or panty-throwers?

J.C. No panty-throwers. Some girls actually tried to find our motel one night. We had fun going on the road together 'cause we're all friends. We stopped in Edmonton for a few days and just hung out and talked about music. We brought a huge record collection on the road with us.

J.S. Is there a specific moment that stands out from being on the road?

J.C. At home in BC we played a show and it was a Thursday night and we packed the place with my friends and family. It's good playing for folks from back home to show them what you've been up to for the last few years. It felt good.

J.S. Where did you find that you were most well received?

J.C. Well, we played a few shows out of town where people were just really excited to have a band in town. In some places it's a big deal. Living in Toronto there's so much music, so it's often taken for granted. But some towns are really appreciative. We played this one place in Alberta. It was a converted movie theatre, kind of a soft-seater. It was great. We sold out, sold a tonne of seats. Whoever had done publicity had done it well. They had a flyer out and set up a radio interview.

 

Dodging Labels and Manufactured Crap

J.S. Have you ever been approached by a label?

J.C. Yep. It was a very small label called Greenlight Productions, or something. A friend of mine was on the label. He had one album out with them already. He told me that it was too early in my career to bother committing, so I just decided not to. And during the whole swing craze we had tonnes of execs at our gigs wanting us to discuss things. I think the only sort of Canadian act that ever signed was Johnny Favourite to Universal. At the time, labels were trying to put together moneymaking projects to follow the fad. Some of the players from my band were approached. It made me laugh because these execs were just scrambling to throw something together to sell records before the fad died.

J.S. How do you feel about that whole manufactured music thing?

J.C. I think it's bullshit. I think it's total bullshit.

J.S. I think it makes the general public stupid. If that's all that's available to them, then that's all they'll listen to and it slowly eats away at anything real.

J.C. It's true. I feel sorry for people who don't know or don't have access to anything but Britney Spears. I guess it's about younger people, too. They'll listen to what their friends listen to, and the record company targets that demographic. So they pump out a lot of garbage. It's almost better to avoid being signed just to stay true to your art. I've met a lot of people who became rich and famous through being signed, and the more that I see of it, the less I want to be it.

 

Traditionally... On Being Independent

J.S. How do you feel about being indie? Do you feel it's a tough grind?

J.C. Well, in terms of getting gigs in Southern Ontario, a lot of people actually know who we are, which suprises us. Either they've heard of us or heard the CD, and they'll book us. Club owners will either ask for full press kits with business cards and the whole bit, and others will call us up and just ask us to play. You encounter all different kinds of people in the music business.

J.S. Have you ever been fucked over by a booking agent?

J.C. Yeah totally. It's happened a few times. Clubs are famous for pulling that stuff.

J.S. How do you deal with it? Is it often a sensitive case just eating it so you don't lose the contact?

J.C. Actually, sometimes you do want to lose the contact. I think musicians and bands need to stand up for themselves. So sometimes you have to know when to say fuck you. Especially if they could've phoned you and let you know that your gig was cancelled or something. When we were on the road we got to this place in Calona that we were playing called Jimmy's House of Blues. We pulled up. We had been on the road all night - driving up from Vancouver. We got to the place and the owner was kind of suprised to see us. We're like, "Hey we're Jake and the Blue Midnights. We're playing here all weekend". He had this scared, panicky look on his face. It happened to be the May long weekend in Calona, and Calona is a pretty big party town in BC. So I say, "Look, we haven't slept, we've been driving all night, where's the hotel?" So we go to the hotel and it's a long way from the club. The hotel ends up being booked solid. The club owner was supposed to book us a room and never did. And because it was May long weekend, the Hell's Angels had taken over the hotel. They just walked in and said, "We're stayin' here". I guess the people who owned the hotel said, "Sure, no problem, just don't break anything". So we drove back to the club and spoke to the club owner. He said it just kept slipping his mind to reserve us a room. So he sends us to another motel, which is even further away and gets us a suite with a kitchen and there were only two beds for five of us. We were supposed to be put up nicely cause we were staying and playing all weekend. Then we went back to the club and the owner said we could stay for the weekend and he'd pay for the rooms, but he wouldn't pay us what he told us he would. He would only pay us like one third. Apparently, a month previous to that weekend, his business was completely going under. He was totally broke. Couldn't pay for food. His kitchen had nothing. He could probably only make a burger and fries. And he was running out of booze behind the bar. So we played the Friday night. I called the agent who booked the show and told him the owner was trying to get out of the money. I called my manager. I felt sorry for the guy, 'cause he was losing his business. At the same time, we had driven a long way to play the show.

J.S. At the very least he could've tried to contact you before you got there.

J.C. Yeah. We didn't get completely stiffed, but we got gouged on that one. I think that some owners make the assumption that musicians just wanna play. They think we should be happy enough with the opportunity to play their club.

 

The Process

J.S. What is your writing process? Do you sit down and work on it a lot?

J.C. I am lately. I write some of everything. I try not to think of genres when I write. I just think of an idea and sometimes the words will give you a feeling and the song follows. I always think that the idea should come first. The words and feelings will direct the song. It's the difference between minors and majors, fast and slow.

J.S. Where do you draw your inspiration from for your lyrics?

J.C. They all come from my life, 'cause that's the only thing that I'm sure I know anything about. A lot of them have to do with relationships with people, but I try to put a funny kinda slant on it. Sometimes songwriters try to be really profound and end up sounding too serious. I find a lot of people try to put too many words in and they totally forget about phrasing. Phrasing is so important.

J.S. Who would you cite as a quintessential songwriter?

J.C. John Lennon is great.

 

Making Your Way... Your Way

J.S. Since you don't have to be a receptionist, what do you do every day?

J.C. Well I've been trying to get into receptionist school for the past few months.

J.S. It's quite a difficult profession. Very stressful. The whole nail-filing thing.... But what I meant to ask is, what's it like to make a living at what you love?

J.C. It's great. But at one point I was playing more than every night. There's a different kind of zone that you get into, too. It used to be that for a musician to make a living and get as good as they had to, they'd play during the day, say at a movie theatre as a piano player. Then they'd play a dinner gig or a cocktail gig. Then they'd play a nightclub and usually then they'd hit an after hours club and jam. And they did this every day during the Swing era. Fats Waller I think averaged 3 hours of sleep a day for like 30 years. There's a reason why Fats Waller was as good as he was. That's all he did. But it's also the reason why a lot of those people's marriages never worked out.