the gandharvas...

Seems pompous, perhaps a bit like something Jeff Martin should have done, to name your band after the minstrels that make music for Hindu gods. But the gandharvas never sent me incense in the mail, no, they always seemed more cheerful than that. The perfect soundtrack for riding your bike around the church parking lot Sunday afternoons when the Buick LeSabres finally drove away, scraped out Jello moulds and irreverent weekly gossip in tow.

But I was a little too old for that in the 1990s. The gandharvas may as well have been the house band on 102.1 the Edge's "Live In Toronto", the self-important yet sorely missed dinner hour rundown of all things alternative in the city of Toronto, hosted by the perpetually unphased Kim Hughes. (She talked me through my tenth grade math homework.) It seemed the gandharvas had found that meal-ticket of 90s Canadian alt-rock in regular rotation, that should have scored them beer promotions and roadside attractions. But it was never meant to be. And I don't know why. But I'm glad.

While my peers praised "The Hip", I insisted on Paul Jago who may have sounded like Perry Farrell with more phlegm, but less like a Transformer. He was best remembered for wearing a t-shirt that said "Girlie Boy" in the video for "Downtime". While Our Lady Peace, I Mother Earth and the like are all fetishized as being something a bit better than they were for the sake of nostalgia (and perhaps a little Can-Con), the gandharvas seem to have faded out, reappearing every so often on request hours, or within Holly McNarland's stage banter.

It seems I was on to something special that came and went like a summer romance, leaving question marks behind in lieu of latching on to a jilted American singer's new project. We shared a few public displays of affection, but for the most part remained comfortable, embedded in private moments with the stars and the waves and a couple bags of cotton candy from the carnival in the distance. Yes, the gandharvas are a part of my own personal "Wonder Years". But they yet remain timeless. Something that the radio, or the townie reunions can't make me get sick of.

the gandharvas - The Masochistic Minstrel

From the forgotten sophomore album from a mostly forgotten band... those with sharp, patient memories will remember the claymation video. I don't, really, but I'm confident it was no more lame than anything Tool ever put on screen.

But yes. Timeless. A welcome song to remember on these nights when it feels time is being told by melting clocks.

The album "Kicking In The Water" seems to be out of stock everywhere except for the mothy corners of my closet. Keep an eye out for gandharvas albums here.

-kam

This entire entry could also apply to the band Pure. But... naaaah. Not the same. Not as good.