Sea Snakes

A sea snake ought to be a dull creature, not particularly menacing, swimming alone through salted-waters. I can’t realistically imagine it hunting or stalking, coming to the mainland, coiled, hiding in the tall grass. I’d see a sea snake in the belly of a whale and it would survive in there.

Sometime in the fall, 2002, Sea snakes abruptly became a band. They thought they would play quiet songs, and sometimes they still do. If you had found them prior to this time you would have seen friends stretching many years, already engaged in things closely related – though different somehow in sound and scope. Shaw-han Liem, Kristian Galberg, and Jim McIntyre had been writing songs together for a year already. They huddled together in the basement of the house they shared, imagining horns and percussion and other instruments playing along to their modest creations. They wanted to play with a drummer like Nathan Lawr and so it was a happy coincidence when he moved back across the country, called and offered his time without solicitation. They discussed sea snake matters in twilight on the porch. Jeremy Strachan was often there, and when at last they finally practiced he was there too. They played their first show three weeks thereafter.

2003 summer plans included the recording of a short ep. In true fashion they worked slowly and did not stop until they had recorded their first full length record and a few more songs to boot. The record was made in the abandoned parts of a century-old house scheduled for demolition. It was poorly kept and when the sun went down they played on in the dark. Jeff McMurrich was living downstairs, pulling things to tape in between his time recording the Hidden Cameras and other Toronto bands. Clear as day, the darkest tools was completed against the backdrop of four Canadian seasons. Its release on the much talked about Three Gut records label (Constantines, Royal City, Jim Guthrie) will be followed by dates in both Canada and the U.S.