This ain't no St. Anne (Day 1)

The sleepy suburb of Shawbridge

                 The Sheets to the Wind tour has begun! Yesterday, with us all moved-out, homeless, and ready to venture into the world, the Argyles, Alexei Martov, and an assortment of groupies departed for Shawbridge, a sleepy suburb 1 hour north of Montreal. Why would the Argyles depart to this distant and unexplored region? Was it part of their goal to become Quebec’s next cowboys fringants?

The Venue

                Unfortunately, we would not be greeted at our Canada Day show by a large crowd of Quebecois nationalists. A small little cabin in suburbia was our destination, belonging to the McGill Outdoors Club. Our relationship with this organization began a few years back. There was some animosity between us, especially after Argyle Guitarist/Drummer/Singer Matt Dowling wrote a song threatening to burn the house down. But we have put aside our differences. Now we have a symbiotic relationship: rather than threatening to burn down the house, we play benefit shows to help pay off its mortgage. In exchange, they allowed to us to play a show there and bring a few of our friends.

                The house was empty upon arrival. Our ad on the MOC listserv had failed to draw the large crowds of muscular youth that we had expected. Soon after, however, a car with license plates from Oregon pulled into the driveway. Two young girls and began speaking in a tongue so unlike American I was caught off guard. But then it clicked: they were speaking Quebecois. My eyes lit up; this was our big chance. If we could win them over, we would become two fans closer to fame and fortune in Quebec. 

The Chicks were totally into us

                The walk from the kitchen to the living room was the longest of my life. This was our big chance. The set began with our standard opener cigarette two-step, but as the set progressed, I found myself unable to loosen up. Yet lead singer/guitarist Argyle Greg McLeod emerged with the solution: a year old bottle of Peach Schnapps. He followed our first swig with our hit “Blackjacks”—a song about rage, love, and a bar which serves 4L pitchers for $16—and then we hit our stride. With each progressive swig from the bottle, the spirit of the Argyles filled the room. Dancing, jumping, running, and twirling, we rocked with the rage of an angry separatist. Our new fans from Quebec could only hold their mouths open in amazement.

He want from blackjack's to blackout last night