I went through a weird phase where I pretty much only bought Christian "rock" music. Kids in our youth group would recount as fact how bands like Rush had altar calls for Satan, and KISS stood for "Kids, or Knights in Satan's Service" or something equally ridiculous, and we ate it up (sometimes I had seconds), gleefully repeating this and other tales of pure bullshit amongst ourselves.
Yeah, there's a name for this: bearing false witness - but as kids we were kind of stupid.
While I have a lot of CCM (contemporary Christian music) that I am still very fond of, there are a lot of bands that I'd never have given the time of day to if it hadn't been for the inevitable comparisons to their "secular" counterparts. There were even guide books to help. Sort of like substituting meat to make a vegetarian dish.
There were some notable exceptions where artists stood out, and their recordings actually had some production value and didn't sound like, well ... shit. They were the exception and not the rule. One of those bands who really deserved a better shot was Quickflight, who were actually (gasp) contemporary and current - if anything, they were too far ahead of the curve for their own good.
This is where I try to get to the point of today's bloggitythingamajigger.
When I started playing old records again, I promised my wife (fingers were crossed behind my back, just sayin') I'd not start collecting records (again). I made a point of picking up the band's second album, Decent Beat, to replace my lost copy, but Breakaway wasn't something I was interested in revisiting. Sure, back in the day I played it a lot, and several songs would make it to my mix tapes, but I stopped listening to it. All I remembered, albeit unfairly and not accurately as it would turn out, were the heavy-handed lyrics and cheesy songs.
The other day I was out browsing for fun, and there in the Q section was their debut. I looked at it, and it was under $10 and in really great condition - heck, they only ever released two albums. If I got it, I'd have the set.
They were never reissued on CD, or available to download to my knowledge (didn't help that I believe they lost the master tapes over time), so if I wanted it, this was the time.
So I got it.
Now I had the set.
Breakaway promised "First class music en route" and actually delivered. The album was recorded in the summer of 1980 and produced by Ron Obvious, who was part of the pack of great talent at Little Mountain Sound in Vancouver. Bob Brooks, who managed the studio, took the band under his wing, which must have felt like winning the lottery.
The only other band I was familiar with under Bob Brooks' Signature Productions was Servant, and I had their first two albums at one time, but then again I had early albums by Barnabas and Amaziah - I'll just leave that there for what it is.
On the front cover there were six guys standing in front of a Lear jet looking pretty cool. They even had a mystery guy who was turned to the camera to be extra mysterious. He's not listed in the credits, maybe he was the money guy - he was holding a suitcase. It might have been full of cash.
Given the time period, it was probably full of Chick tracts that would be tossed out to fans at concerts, sort of like what Stryper would do a few years later, but with heavier Bibles, more heft, more souls for the toteboard.
(Goodness me, I'm in a mood today.)
The first thing I noticed was that it had been nearly forty years since I'd heard this, and it was good. Really good. I'd actually forgotten how similar the guys' voices were, which helped keep things sounding cohesive. The exception being a song called "Feelin' Sad," where Doug Giesbrecht takes his turn singing. The song plays on the monotone new wave robotic voice thing (think M's "Pop Muzik" or New Musik's "On Islands"), and I'm not sure what he was going for lyrically, or what kind of aspirin (A.S.A.) needed a prescription. Still, it's a song I remember liking because it sounded cool.
There weren't a lot of bands like this at the time that I can remember. Gary Numan had dropped The Pleasure Principle in 1979, and bands like Split Enz, Ultravox, and XTC were carving out their niche in the new wave arena. I always imagined them being influenced by Kraftwerk and Devo.
Quickflight was right there with the synths and keyboards, less the red flower pots, backed by a full band and not a bank of machines and sequencers (that would have to wait for the second album). I have to admit that with the passage of time, the music that holds up for me is strongly rooted in real instruments.
Breakaway featured Ric deGroot on keys and vocals, Pete Cordalis on lead guitar and vocals, Doug Giesbrecht on bass and vocals, Gary Hendricks on drums, fire bell, and vocals, and Mike King on guitars and vocals.
Of the eleven tracks, Ric was behind five of the songs, with the others taking their turn singing their contributions. Lyrically this was pretty typical for the Christian market, but oddly enough there weren't a lot of Jesus, God, or "Thief in the Night" references, which was pretty unusual, especially coming out of the 70s and the whole turn-or-burn theology and rapture mania fuelled by Hal Lindsey and his doom-and-gloom prophecies (yeah, on purpose — they made a lot of money off this stuff).
If I'm being honest, even without the overtly Jesus-this-and-that language, some of the lyrics felt kind of ham-fisted. None more so than on the song "Atheist" (which, by the way, musically is a really strong song), where Pete Cordalis (who was pretty good on the guitar on the album) sings:
but my friend let's also assume that i'm right
that there is a god out there somewhere tonight
there is a heaven there is a hell
if that is right i'm going to live forever
and you're going to burn there
Heck, even Daniel Amos stopped performing "The Skeptic's Song" when the crowds would cheer when the band sang "Oh my! You'll fry as we wave good-bye to you." I have to admit during my holier-than-thou and "do as I say, not as I do" phase, I would cheer too.
There's a word for this, schadenfreude.
Larry Norman probably did it best on "Watch What You're Doing" from his awesome Something New Under the Son album:
Some people say that
God is dead
That He doesn't exist
Except inside your head
I wonder how many
Gonna be surprised
When they look straight up
And see Him coming through the skies
That's how you turn a phrase kids.
Let's me be clear, this is not a SHIT ON QUICKFLIGHT POST!
Maybe a small fart on the head and a noogie, but in a loving way.
Listening to this now with relatively fresh ears, I am partial to Ric's songs and his approach to his lyrics. The closing song "Shuttle" is about the search for something missing, a theme that would often show up in his writing. He didn't claim to have an answer so much as admit to looking and wanting to receive an answer.
fallen from grace lost in the race
yet ruled by the conscience of time
battles that rage creating the stage
for the love i've been meaning to find
It would be a few years before I'd hear of the band again. My dear dead dear friend Dave played me a tape of the upcoming Quickflight record he'd made from a test pressing. I remember being absolutely blown away.
With Decent Beat, Quickflight was now a trio featuring Dale Dirksen on keyboards and backing vocals, and Greg Johnson on guitar, with Ric being the primary writer and vocalist. This time around the album was a full-on techno/electronic record, with drum machines, sequencers, and all the bells and whistles. There was still guitar throughout, and wonderful fretless bass work on "Water of Life" by Paul Iverson (he was on Strange Advance's first record).
Danice MacLeod played violin on the song "Fantasy," and on "Metro Alien" there's an honest-to-goodness timpani solo by Dale Dirksen. There would be musical cameos too. Chris Livingston, who was at the time with The Payolas, provided keyboards on a number of songs, and Scotty Hall (R.I.P.) provided guitar on a track.
So how does this hold up after nearly forty years?
I'm kind of torn, as this really is of the time, and back then this was as cool as it got. Drum machines were the norm, and there was actually debate about the future of drums and bass, as to whether or not they were even necessary going forward. It was a valid argument to a point, but now when I hear this I try to imagine Ric's arrangements anchored by a killer rhythm section, and I get chills.
That being said, this is an electronic album, and it's something I'd hold up to any of the contemporaries of the day. It was slick, but it wasn't over-produced to the point of being sterile. That was something many bands didn't get - perfection didn't equal perfection; it equated to boring.
The number of great songs here essentially starts on the first side and goes all the way through. I remember seeing one of those "Christian equivalents to secular music" charts, and apparently "Fade to Glory" was the counterpart of "Der Kommissar," which I mentioned to Ric once, and he thought that was really unfair.
"Metro Alien" is the shortest song on the album, and showcases Dale Dirksen on lead vocals and guitar by Pete Cordalis. It's one of my favourite tracks from the album.
The band was about the music, and they stayed true to themselves to the end. They may have been on a "Christian" label with StarSong, but they always seemed like outsiders looking in. As Ric would write on the song "Living in the World":
Some want to leave but I'm doing fine
If this is where I'm supposed to be this is where I'll stay
I'll suffer the cost of a fallen grace
That's okay I found my way
But I'll have to stay
Living in the world
I always thought there'd be a third album. Dang, there should have been a third album, but who knows what happened. By all accounts, after the Exit Festival in '84, the current iteration of the band had run its course.
I know Ric had some great songs in the funnel. I was invited to Little Mountain Sound to hang while he and Ron Obvious mixed down a bunch of demo recordings that were being sent off for consideration. This was around the same time The Payolas were recording Here's the World for Ya in 1985. As we were coming in, they were coming out.
I remember being a little awe-struck as there was David Foster and the guys in The Payolas just hanging in the doorway. We were there for several hours working on what I just assumed were the seeds to the follow-up to Decent Beat. The songs were really good.
I can't remember why we stopped hanging out. I think life just happened and we drifted apart. We've been in touch a couple of times since, but it's been years now.
When I think of Quickflight, it brings to mind my old friend, and that makes me happy.
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