1. SPOT THE TRENDS ... EARLY ...

In the Fall of 1982, a small group of friends in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada started to meet periodically to play music. With not much more than an acoustic guitar, a piano and some pots and pans, and in a rather blasphemous poke at popular music tradition, one of the band members introduced an early session with the following words: LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, ELVIS WAS A TRUCK DRIVER. Our reference point was established and the band had a name.

An important premise which quickly emerged was that minimal guidelines would direct the sessions. The dominating intellectual curiosity of the players discouraged structure, as did their limited musical abilities. The desired expression was a representation of the diverse interests of the group members, to be revealed as Elvis matured.

Instrumental skills, or more precisely, the lack of instrumental skills, and the limited availability of instruments also helped define the musical outcome. With each session more instruments became available. Acoustic strings, woods and percussion, as well as electric and primitive programmable keyboards were added as time progressed. Players were encouraged not to focus on instruments of their expertise, but rather to experiment with unfamiliar instruments. Often when a leadership role was assumed for a piece, it was manifest as an attempt to use an instrument in an uniquely expressive way.

The locale of each Elvis session was also influential. The three different homes where the sessions took place imposed different instruments, acoustics and environmental properties. Although the evenings were originally conceived as musical soirees, the gradual introduction of tea, cookies, pharmaceuticals and social commentary enhanced our sense of communal purpose, real or imagined.


Membership in Elvis quickly became exclusive and hence the numbers and personalities were important in shaping the music. New band mambers came, some left and some stayed. For posterity we wanted to document each session, and part of the definition became "two or more of a specific group playing together." Four at any one time was a comfortable maximum.

In 2002 - Elvis' 20th anniversary - there are ten "official" members of the band and many others who have had the priviledge/misfortune of sitting in for a session or two. Four are original members having played with the band since its conception in 1982 and nine of the ten have been with the band for at least 10 years - a remarkable testimonial to human endurance!

2. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, ELVIS WAS A TRUCK DRIVER

The name of the band quickly emerged as a cliché evoking the total lack of commercial potential in the music. The principle of equal representation, and the loose guidelines designed to encourage performance freedom, tended to work against all the commercial precepts -- identification of a market, and the conscious creation of a product for that market's consumption. At no time did any band member have any illusion that this kind of music would interest anyone on a commercial level. Knowing this gave us freedom and provided the material for many good jokes based in fantasy.


The name of the band also created wonderful misconceptions of what kind of band we were and what kind of music we played. The logical assumption of non-band members was that we either re-created the music of Elvis Presley, or at the very least we played rock and roll music. Several band members delighted in this false assumption.

Another aspect of the band's name was that it was logically shortened to just Elvis when speaking to one another. Pretty soon the activity of getting together for a session became known as Elvising. We would therefore often use the word as a verb, for example, "Let's Elvis tonight".

3. ARE WE ROLLING, BOB?

Typically, an Elvis session would begin with a loosely defined but logically structured 'set-up' number. It was geared to achieving a maximum number of events with a minimum number of motions. We were still trying to understand electricity.


Sometimes the Elvis aura began to descend as early as the sound check. More often than not, the music itself sounded like the sound check. Cognizant of the power of our equipment, we shuffled instruments and sound-checked various configurations and levels. This information was frequently ignored while playing, but the important equilibrium was inevitably returned to.

Taping was suggested during our evaluation of one of the first sessions. Taping imposed a beginning and an end. This delineation was often by consensus, but the responsibility was also taken on arbitrarily by individuals. Also, the finite tape length imposed itself more than once. The more we began to conceptualize finite blocks of time, the more purpose and scope began to be defined for each piece.

With tape ready to roll the lobbyists for a warm-up number would make their pitch. On occasions when we were convinced, the group would move cautiously into a series of stretching exercises.

With a single micophone suspended from a cup-hook in the middle of the room and plugged into a single-track cassette deck, we were able to reproduce the Elvis "sound" - that of a live bootleg recording.

A few other inevitable events punctuated the sessions. Tapes ran out, equipment failed, people became thirsty or exhausted, band members succumbed to fits of uncontrollable laughter, the telephone rang -- and a band member called out for "more telephone". Pieces also came to an end on their own accord, resolved as statements or simply left hanging as unanswered questions.

Frequently, when a piece ended, we stopped the tape, took a few deep reflective breaths and a sip of tea, and tried to envision the next piece. A new direction often needed clear heads. However, sometimes consensus would call for an instant tape replay to demonstrate a useful excursion or to exchange compliments and pats-on-the-back. Other times the tape would roll on forgotten, capturing the wit or cynicism of the relieved players. Occasionally we continued to record purposefully, sensing something left unsaid, or a fresh idea imminent.

Typically we'd record five tunes encompassing one hour. A variety of moods were engaged and recordings would reflect:
1. something of the current individual and collective head-spaces (emotional)
2. something of the quality direction that various group members were working toward (academic/intellectual)
3. something of the hallucinogenic quality generated by the group's total encompass of its members at points in the evening.

Energy waxed and waned, but fortunately it tended to accumulate toward a subtle climax. This was frequently in the vicinity of the tape running out. Winding down was often a problem. Tea and a little medication and meditation helped. Occasionally a piano solo helped dispatch the band.

The presence of recording equipment and the act of recording the sessions had a significant effect on the performance. It helped introduce duration and hence structure into the individual pieces, and facilitated themes for entire sessions. It provided an important feedback facility which was used over the course of the evening and it facilitated comparison of emotions experienced during the performance with those projected into the world. This comparison proved to be an important part of our evolution.

Taping also provided band members with recorded music they could listen to in their cars on their way home after a session and during the week until the next session.

We have continued to tape our sessions from time to time and today there exists a library of probably a hundred or so hours of taped Elvis Was a Truck Driver music. Nobody seems to care.