Music fans who
are tired of the derivative sound of today's indie
oeuvre and the gutteral histrionics of mainstream rock
fare need look no further than Dakona's Maverick
Records debut, Perfect Change, to remind them what a
rock band should sound like. The Vancouver-based
quartet has a lush, atmospheric quality that combines
heady guitar textures with deep, fluid grooves and
piercingly beautiful melodies. Their album, produced
by Rob Cavallo (Green Day) and Arnold Lanni (Our Lady
Peace) and mixed by Randy Staub (P.O.D., Nickelback)
and Tom Lord-Alge (Weezer, Avril Lavigne), drives and
uplifts with emotionally charged songs of soulful grit
and grace.
Dakona came
together six years ago, when Ryan McAllister and cousin
John Biondolillo teamed up with local players Shane Dueck
and Brook Winstanley. The quartet spent the next several
years locked away in a decrepit barn-turned-rehearsal
space behind McAllister's parent's home, honing their
craft and plotting their big move.
Along the way, they
built a fastidiously loyal following throughout Canada
and Seattle, playing-as McAllister puts it-"anywhere and
everywhere, including lunch hour shows at local high
schools." "We even played a hospital benefit once where
we opened for a sex therapist that was doing a question
and answer session for teens," he laughs. "That was a
show to remember." In 1998, the blue-collar band went the
D.I.Y. route and released Good Enough For Me to rave
reviews. Two years later, they followed up with Ordinary
Heroes, which became the number one independent-selling
album in Vancouver, garnering both local radio play and
record company interest. Says Winstanley, "The idea was
to make a set of songs that we could shop around, but no
one ever told us that we really only needed three or four
songs. So we made a 13-song album, which definitely
served its purpose."
After fielding
offers from a number of labels, they chose Maverick, and
headed into a Toronto studio with producer Arnold Lanni.
As the band would soon find out recording a major label
debut is a heady proposition. "Believe or not, we were
still growing as a band," says Ryan. "It was our first
experience in a state-of-the-art recording studio which
can really be distracting. And in the end we all felt
that we needed to rethink our approach to the album." So
the band wrapped up the Lanni sessions with an unfinished
album and a ton of questions about what their next move
would be.
The band learned
after fruitless months in Toronto that they needed to
change paths. They set off on the course that would
eventually result in Perfect Change. That path headed
west and into the hands of Grammy winning producer Rob
Cavallo. After just 18 days in the studio they had nailed
the album. "In Toronto, we took a very methodical
thought-out process where we tried everything to find the
right part. With Rob, it was more like, 'this is music,
let's capture something spontaneous,' and that was
definitely the way to go. We'd talk about each song for
20 minutes and then cut it and it was done."
McAllister, a
gifted lyricist who writes vivid songs rich with
pictures, paints Dakona's dominant musical colors. On
Perfect Change, the singer turns a sharp eye to the world
outside his window and looks for the light in a landscape
littered with broken promises, lost souls and lonely
hearts. His deeply affecting wordplay and evocative
vocals give the record an intensity that has little to do
with amp settings. Simply put, it's an album for those
who remember how to really listen.
On "Revelation," he
finds a friend standing at the crossroads and torn
between directions. "It's about our old bass player," he
says. "A couple of years ago, he got his girlfriend
pregnant and didn't know where to turn. He wanted to do
the right thing, but at the same time didn't want to
leave the band and was desperately in search of an
answer. At 21, he was forced to grow up really fast, and
unlike most guys in that situation, he quit the
band-which he really loved-to face up to his
responsibilities. There's not a day that goes by that he
doesn't regret being with us, but he's got a beautiful
family and it all worked out for the best."
In "Revolving," the
vocalist recalls an attempt to cut off a broken
relationship, where he was too weak to walk away. "It's
the darkest song on the record," he says. "It's about
that post-breakup period, where the physical aspect is
the last thing to leave. You end the relationship, but
then there's that six-month period when you're sometimes
together. There's a bit of self-loathing there because I
knew what the right thing was and didn't do it."
Other highlights
include the album's first single, "Good," which ventures
into the ghost world of the homeless and "Trampoline," a
song about the refusal to accept life's limitations.
"Richest Man in the World" speaks about staying grounded
in an industry that's shallow and superficial, while "In
God's Name," one of the most affecting tracks on the
album, explores the hypocrisy of the evil that is done in
the name of religion.
After nearly six
years together, through the ups and downs of holding a
band and a common vision together, keeping focused
through bidding wars and production difficulties, for
Dakona it still comes down to one thing: the music. "At
the end of the day, you can record in a barn-it really
doesn't matter," say McAllister. "It's all about the
magic and catching the right vibe. When I listen back to
the record now, I can't find anything I want to change or
play differently, which is a great feeling. I just hope
that people like it as much as we do."
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