Our Lady Peace- Model Citizens by Ted Mahovlich

In a Queen Street West clothing boutique, a photographer is bustling to get his equipment adjusted for the perfect shot. The last member of Our Lady Peace arrives and immediately the band is engaged in a series of introductions. The four models are escorted to the clothing racks, where they are instructed to select an appropriate garment for the picture. It's been said Our Lady Peace--especially lead singer Raine Maida--don't care for this part of the job. Dressed in a black shirt and pants, Maida pulls an appealing item from the colourful array. With a grin creeping from one side of his mouth, he tests the person responsible for his being there. "We get to take these home, right?"

The shrewd co-ordinator of the session offers a skirting reply. "We'll talk about it after we're done."

Halfway into the shoot, the band is noticeably comfortable with the photographer and begin clowning around. Bassist Duncan Coutts dons a fuzzy pink mad-hatter three times the size of his head, causing everyone in the shop to crack up. The mood is light and good-natured.

"Is that Our Lady Peace?" A troupe of fans enters the store after recognizing the fellows reclined in the front window display. The band finishes the last of the poses and happily obliges the autograph seekers, producing shrieks of delight. After this modicum of excitement, we reconvene at a pub across the street, where the group's most outgoing member, guitarist Mike Turner, justifies the afternoon of smiling for the camera. "It's part of the gig, really. In order to do what we do, we sort of have to do that as well. Take it for what it's worth."

So what is it these lads do when they're not saying cheese? Well, by all industry accounts, they make extremely popular music. Our Lady Peace's 1994 debut, NAVEED, sold 500,000 copies--a staggering number for a CD Turner describes as "something we wanted to have to sell side-stage at our gigs."

The wonderful tale of Our Lady Peace begins with Maida and Turner, who met each other the way most folks do nowadays--through an ad in the classifieds. The pair started auditioning musicians and, like most endeavours in the group's short history, they got results. Jeremy Taggart, whose frame and frames qualify him as a Buddy Holly stunt double, is the band's first and only drummer. Coutts, their current bassist, was the first they heard and liked, but the studious bottom-ender opted for school and returned to finish his degree. So, for the first year and change, Chris Eacrett filled the position. Unlike Ringo's predecessor, though, the bassist got a second chance when "personal differences" resulted in Eacrett's departure. This begs the question: Did Coutts suffer a case of the Pete Best Syndrome watching Our Lady Peace's stardom rise? Coutts nods. "I think the bombardment of NAVEED was a personal torture," he says. "I guess it was the two months in the summer of '95, you'd turn on the radio and hear the song 'Naveed,' you'd turn on MuchMusic and see the video."

A rapid ascension to 'signed' status followed. Maida says, "We did a demo, did another demo. Sony heard one of them, liked it..."

"And gave us a record deal," Turner concludes. "It sounds very trite almost, but that's what happened."

The band willingly concedes the role of good luck, but rightly note the six tours of Canada and two jaunts across the United States in their beloved Ford one-ton. Hundreds of gigs later, including opening dates with Page & Plant, Van Halen and Alanis Morissette, the luck factor fades from the picture. Now, with their second album, CLUMSY, just released, Our Lady Peace is one of the hottest acts in a wave of great Canadian bands that includes I Mother Earth, Moist and current OLP tourmates, Change of Heart.

For youngsters in the rock game, the success of an album largely hinges on the group's ability to deliver their material live. Having established a reputation for doing this in spades, Maida rattles the ice in his glass, takes a sip of his chosen beverage and cites their first inspiration, I Mother Earth. An easily enthused Turner jumps in again. "The first time we toured live," Turner says, "it was with I Mother Earth, and they were just tearing the place apart--every night! And we're just like, "Wow, do we ever have to work hard."

After months on the road together, Our Lady Peace not only became good friends with I Mother Earth, they found themselves as musical peers looking to climb the next rung. A soft-spoken Taggart points to supporting Page & Plant as a significant leap in that direction. Then there was opening for Morissette, followed by a Rage Against The Machine show that sent Turner reeling: "We went and saw Rage Against The Machine, and that was so inspiring it was almost sickening. But I don't think we could say there's one band that inspires us, and that's it. We're music fans, like everyone else."

While recording, Our Lady Peace gains a fifth member of sorts. Back when Maida and Turner were in the studio working on their first demos, they stumbled into a relationship with their producer-to-be. A unanimous expression of trust and allegiance fills the room at the mention of Arnold Lanni. Maida explains: "Arn came in as the owner and wanted to know if we liked the studio. We developed a friendship, and all of a sudden he was poking his head in, saying, 'I like those songs.' It just developed from there."

With CLUMSY, the band's goal was to make an album where each song could stand on its own. Each member beams confidently regarding their sophomore release. This self-assurance is a reflection of the quality approach in the Canadian music scene today. "The Canadian bands that are making it right now are making great records," Maida contends. "There are a number bands in the States and world-wide that have been propped up on one single, who sell millions of records then go away, 'cause after that one single, there's no depth on the record. I think a few Canadian bands have got it down to being like the old days. They're building a career on great records."

Throughout the 11 songs on CLUMSY, Maida's lyrics appear critical of both worldly and personal interests. The tragic life scenarios of the record's title track and the closing song, 'Car Crash,' exemplify Maida's fascination with frustration, yet an unspoken desire for positive resolution lingers between the lines. 'Superman's Dead,' the first single, exemplifies this constructive criticism. In today's world it's not just ordinary people who need spiritual cruthces, cosmetic surgery and a red cape. Even Superman wasn't good enough, so they killed him in order to reincarnate him as a better, more stylish Man Of Steel.

It's clear Our Lady Peace has a mandate to focus on music. But marketing an image, through videos and photo shoots, is part of the business of being in a successful rock band and must be dealt with. Maida sits up in his chair and his voice takes on a serious tone. Just the mention of the word "video" brings back a dreaded memory of the group's first experience in the medium. The band was going over treatments from different directors for their song 'The Birdman,' when they came upon one which shocked them. "We were sitting around reading and everyone's looking around at each other like 'What the hell is this? This has nothing to do with the song,'" Maida recalls, "so we completely discarded that one. Two months later it ends up that we see that exact video with another song--the exact same treatment! It's obvious this director just wanted to get his mini-movie out, regardless of the band or the song."

The interview concludes with thanks all around. As Coutts rises from his seat, he mentions haggling the sweater he wore in the boutique spread. "I asked for the slightly used price," he says. "No deal!"