Sunday, October 18, 2009

Darlings of Chelsea

Darlings of Chelsea
The Mimico Sessions
http://www.myspace.com/darlingsofchelsea

Like all the best rock ‘n’ roll interviews, my interview with the newly-crowned winner of Toronto’s Indie Week 2009, Darlings of Chelsea, took place when all involved parties were completely shitfaced. The band had just finished a slick ‘n’ sleazy Friday-night set at Call The Office in my hometown of London, Ontario, and, inspired by the muse, Rum, and her sister, Coke, and undeterred by the pesky migraine that had been plaguing me all week, I decided that I would ask the Darlings to pop my Sleazegrinder interview cherry. Being the gentlemen that they are, they were happy to oblige. The following is a more or less accurate account of our conversation (heavy on the less, since I have the memory of a sieve and only a two-inch piece of register tape to refer to, upon which I scribbled my drunken notes):

Holly: So, Jay, I understand that you are a doctor of sorts. What are your qualifications, and what do you recommend to get rid of a week-long headache?

Jay Millette (guitar, ex-The Black Halos): You can call me Jay Millette, Bar Doctor M.D. My qualifications? Well, I rule the best, I’m single, and I like both kinds of musics, guns and roses. I recommend another rum and coke to help you with that headache. And if that doesn’t work, a shot of jagermeister followed by another couple rum and cokes.

H [after taking the prescribed medication]: I’m sure that remedy will kick in shortly, thanks. Hey, congrats on the Indie Week win. Are you excited about the trip to Ireland?

Sean Robertson (vocals), interrupting in his sexy British accent, and to noone in particular: You smell like gay. [General laughter, followed by a short pause as we consider the implications of this comment. We come to the mutual conclusion that to smell like gay is pretty good.] You know what’s great about Ireland? The Guinness. Fucking great. Guinness is shit here.

H: I’m not a beer drinker, myself, so I’ll trust your cosmopolitan sensibilities on that issue.

SR: Cheers, man! [We all drink.]

Paul Thompson (guitar, ex-Parkas): [Paul and I actually had a pretty decent conversation about fuck only remembers what before I decided on doing the interview. During the actual interview, this charming ginger-haired fellow played the strong silent type, much to his credit, given the quality of my interviewing skills.]

Chris Nova (drums, ex-Kill Cheerleader), running his hands through my hair: I like your bangs. Your hair is soft. Is this a wig?

H: Um, no, it’s real, just dyed. But thanks. So, Rob, do you have anything you’d like to add about, um, anything?

Robby Ruckus (bass, ex-Robin Black): No. But do you wanna come back with us and play Wii?

H: Ah fuck, dude, it’s 2:30 in the morning, my head is killing me, I’m beginning to seriously question Jay’s credentials as a physician, and I hate technology, but thanks for the invitation. Next time, I promise. [almost falling off her barstool] Thanks for the interview, guys! Bye, band! Bye! [clutching her precious scrap of paper and stumbling drunkenly out into the night]

And that was that. I thought it went pretty well. Unsurprisingly, when I woke up the next afternoon, my head still hurt…

Darlings of Chelsea’s six-song EP of catchy balls-out sleaze rock ‘n’ roll, The Mimico Sessions, is available from iTunes, Amazon, and eMusic.com, and you can catch them live in and around Toronto until next spring, when they will be drinking excessive amounts of Guinness, charming the Wii-playing panties off the local girls, and rocking the shit out of Ireland.

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