| If the saying “you can’t stop progress” has negative connotations, then Edmonton, Alberta’s Choke is an exception to the rule. Not that we’re associating Choke with real estate development or tearing down orphanages to build shopping malls, but if you compare Choke at their inception 10 years ago to where they are today, it’s like going from the ricshaw to a Concorde jet. Let’s just say in this case it has been progress for the better.
Snapshot of 1994: four suburban refugees are jumping around the stage. The singer is shaking the mic like an aerosol can, and the bassist can barely keep his balance as he thrashes lumber around like a maniac wielding a chainsaw. The embryonic Choke was a skate-punk’s wet dream of so-cal speed and rationed stop-starts (appropriately timed for knee-bent jumps). Edmonton couldn’t get enough, and neither could Choke.
Almost as quickly as the band formed, the decision to play as much as possible would be established as an unspoken understanding among the four. The band moved into Drummer Stefan Levasseur’s Volkswagen van and they hit the pavement with their dials set on tour-till-we-die. An endless succession of tours across North America would be their destiny, and an incomparable live act would be their reputation.
After a couple independent releases (Lotion and Give’er), Choke signed to Smallman Records. They put out Needless to Say in 1998. It was like punk rock got kicked in the nuts, keeled over and asked for another. In answer, Foreword was dropped on our heads in 1999. To this day, nobody knows exactly who made that record. To say humans made something so dizzyingly complex and enjoyably abstruse seems unlikely. It beckoned the question: Who the fuck are these guys?
Jack Jaggard: the darkest element to this composition represents the tortured heart and soul of Choke. He’s every guitar player’s worst nightmare. Jaw-dropping technical prowess and melancholy soulfulness bleeds from the frets of his guitar. Music is catharsis for Jack. Even in the face of injury, his mind, soul and fingertips can’t be stopped.
Although drummer Stefan Levasseur plays like Vishnu on amphetamines, he’s actually the most down-to-Earth of the lot. His no-nonsense attitude results in an engineer-like ability to keep the machine running in live form. Without his controlled-chaos drumming, the Choke locomotive would quickly derail.
Over the years, bassist Clay Shea has assumed the role of “operations manager” in the band. It isn’t Choke unless Shea touched it. With a physical stature that matches his thunderous bass lines, Shea sheds his gentle-giant image when that stick of Fender wood becomes a lightning rod of power. Watch him during the breakdown on “Numb Phase” – it will frighten you.
Shawn Moncreif may be the loudest quiet-guy you’ll ever meet. Watch him roar into the mic with every fibre of his being, pound his guitar into a bloody pulp and contort his body with every snap of Stefan’s snare. When it’s all over, you’d be lucky to hear him mutter “thanks.” Moncreif knows he’s got the talent, but would never concede to make a big deal out of it.
After Foreword, Choke stepped back from the brink of time-signature insanity. Once again, the band wouldn’t be satisfied with making another Choke record. It had to be something completely different, something better and something that didn’t need a laboratory of music scientists to appreciate. In 2002, There’s a Story to this Moral, produced by Paul Forgues (Slayer, Nine Inch Nails), created the perfect hybrid between melodic accessibility and the progressive musical effort expected of them. It was their most successful record, establishing them in mainstream media outlets like MuchMusic (“Every Word”), and building their always-growing fan base. This was cultivated by tirelessly touring throughout Canada and the US.
So what’s the new era of Choke? March 22, 2005 will see the release of Slow Fade Or: How I learned to Question Infinity (produced by Blair Calibaba and Paul Forgues). Sonically it eclipses its predecessors, building on the foreshadowing guitar experimentation in Moral. Slow Fade is a combination of Choke-gear velocity, Shawn’s powerful pitch reigned to perfection and pounding rhythmic intensity. All with an unexpected poignancy spread subtly beneath the surface. If it was possible for this band to get any more serious about what they do - they did. If it was possible for this band to stray any further from their musical inception – they did. And if it was possible to get any better than they were – well they certainly did. And such is progress. |
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