Ted Killin Tuesday Sept. 29, 2009: Banana Boy took an easy cross-country jaunt into Sneaky Dee's, only to be blown clear across the room by a shockwave of a larger-than-usual dose of PURE UNADULTERATED ROCK! He has, ever since, turned mystic and reads premonitions... of the future, which is how I know about the event unfolding in the first place. DON'T MISS THIS SHIT HITTING THE FOLIAGE! Sneaky Dees'; what a boosh.
September 27 at 9:40pm - Comment - Like

And so it was.

Indeed the strange and often grotesque story of Banana Boy is occasionally shocking to those of a weak constitution; though surely it is a tale that is desperate to be told…

It was an act of divine mercy, though some might call it an act of horrifying negligence – Banana Boy’s godless and unnatural birth, that is.

Regardless of your stance on the matter, it was an event that will live in infamy forever as a stain upon the face of science, and also a shining light into the dark secrets of the universe.

The one they call “Banana Boy” was once known as Gerald Mardeczki, but that was a long time ago. Little is known about this Mardeczki character other than his name - and even that scrap of information was obtained via extremely dubious circumstances. All other supposed facts have come from sources of ill repute, the tall tales of ignorant drunkards in shadowy holes. Unfortunately, this hearsay is all that believers such as myself have to go on as we toil endlessly in search of the truth. I know he is still out there, somewhere.

Some say that he was a man of science. Others say that he was science’s man, little more than a hapless guinea pig left behind when shit got just a little too real. How could anyone explain him? Thought to be no more than four feet tall and weighing at most as much as your average macbook, he is deathly pale and sickly; his skin, that loose mass which seems so slimy and wet; the titular banana which appears to be grafted to his lips forever. How does he eat? And why can’t he just chew through that banana?

And then there are those eyes, which extend out of their sockets, stretched to the heavens and forever fixed in awe of whatever may be in front of him. No doubt something horrifying transpired that would change the mild-mannered Mardeczki forever. There is, however, one indisputable fact that all Banana Boy experts maintain: Banana Boy is a very snappy dresser.

I dare not delve too deeply into Banana Boy’s legend, there is far too much gray area and not enough space to go into the innumerable ins and outs of this extremely convoluted tale. No, today I bring forth fresh details from the most recent Banana Boy sighting, an event which I was fortunate enough to be privy to and which shall surely haunt me forever.

It happened at a well-known bar in Toronto called Sneaky Dee’s and the date was September 29, 2009.

This very publication was that very night celebrating its first anniversary. We were doing this by renting out the second floor of the iconic hipster haunt at Bathurst and College (a perennial favorite of many SB staffers) and we had hired several musicians to play there. We invited everyone that we could possibly think of; we worried that no one would show up. But, sure enough, more people showed up than we could reasonably have expected. There was one guest, however, whom we were not expecting at all.

The night started out well enough; two people had already paid cover before the doors were even technically open and morale was high amongst the SB gang for the excessive rocking that was sure to occur within the coming hours. Sound check ran slightly late, no biggie.

The night was heralded by our very own Patrick Grant, whose musical alter-ego the Body Electric showed up in full force to give the growing crowd a much needed dose of intelligent folk-rock goodness. He brought along a saxophone player. Boosh. Indeed, if the Body Electric’s minimal-yet-muscular brand of Wilco-esque folk was any indication, our collective booshometer was very likely to go far, far off the charts. With his red Telecaster shimmering magnificently, Patrick crooned and wailed his way into the hearts of many unexpected listeners.

The crowd grew. At some point there was a line - no jokes or anything. People were excited, drinking many, many beers and hanging out to such an extreme degree, I thought surely disaster was immanent. But then something magical happened.

I thought I had seen something earlier, something that I would tell myself was only a trick of the mind. Surely the legend would not be here, in such a public space, with so many people. I knew it was so improbable that it couldn’t be true and yet, there he was in front of me, drinking (somehow) a Moosehead and dolling out what seemed to be endless high fives. It was a masterful sight. Unfortunately, he disappeared into the swelling crowd to enjoy the next musical act, SB mainstays Jane’s Party.

Jane’s Party provided a liberal injection of highly concentrated pop directly into the collective bloodstream of the evidently heavily inebriated audience, which predictably turned out to be just what the doctor had ordered. As those of us in the know already know, Jane’s Party are one mighty folk-pop machine that churns out merciless hooks like it was no big deal and oozes charm like pus from an infected wound. Having toured extensively their first LP, The Garage Sessions, all over Canada this summer, the local quartet have tightened their live performance significantly over the past few months and are now able to crank out a fun, energetic and musically sound performance almost effortlessly, winning over converts en masse in the process.

I, not being able to leave my post at the front door, received almost all of my information second-hand, but I was told that Banana Boy was at the forefront of some kind of mass pop-induced convulsion amongst those crammed onto the dance floor.

I was also told at some point that a C-list pop star who shall remain nameless ran into a spot of minor controversy on the lower deck of Sneaky Dee’s around the time that Jane’s Party were tearing the unsuspecting Banana-heads to pieces. The incident involved Sneaky’s famed nachos and I'll leave it at that.

Shortly afterward, Banana Boy was found sick as a dog in the men’s room, having been goaded into a gin-drinking contest with an as-yet unnamed member of SB affiliate, the Students for Practical Application (S.P.A.Y.). Banana Boy was reported to have, in spectacular fashion, desecrated the restroom in ways that would later be described as “bizarre and frightening.” Miraculously, he would soon take advantage of a second wind and continued partying long beyond what the city of Toronto usually tolerates. The Banana fastened to his lips was reportedly so saturated with booze that it resembled more a mass of dripping yellow foam than any sort of tropical fruit.

I saw the mysterious blight upon the earth lurch his way back into the audience for the powerful and eardrum shattering performance by local indie-rockers, the Darcys. The band, which consists entirely of Toronto natives that met and formed their group in Halifax before moving back to Ontario not too long ago, not only effectively shook the building to its very foundations with the sheer volume of their performance, but sent Banana Boy into uncontrollable fits of giddy madness. With effects pedals dialed up to to simply unreasonable levels and a tight, muscular rhythm section that pummeled everyone within a ten block radius into blissful submission, our fantastic headliners took up where Jane’s Party left off in shattering hearts, minds and windows with the force of their rocking.

It was a sight to behold and one that no one in attendance was likely to forget any time soon. The Darcys rocked in every direction and manner possible, creating what can only be described as a rock and roll wrecking ball that sonically punched every person at the venue, Banana Boy especially, square in the jaw. I was later informed that Sneaky Dee’s came into a minor crisis when the injured parties exhausted their ice supply. With the joint packed and the bar raking in unfathomable amounts of dough, the Darcys were able to deliver a set that not only melted faces, but demonstrated exactly the sort of literate and sophisticated kind of songwriting that make them such a hot commodity. Banana Boy would never be the same.

You would have thought that by this point, we would have ran out of tricks, our headliners riding off into the sunset on a wave of reverb and delay, but fortunately for everyone who stuck around, SB had an ace up their sleeve yet. Hemingway, the notorious house producer, infamous proprietor of sticky, thick yacht-funk was on hand to close out the night with a dirty DJ set of grimy, sweaty funk all over the place. I’m sure that Banana Boy, having already drunk his weight in gin and having his face melted beyond anything recognizable by the previous musical acts would never be able to handle the freakishly tall DJ’s delicious beats, but he did very well for himself indeed and could clearly be seen amongst the die-hard partiers, dancing his motherfucking balls off.

Hemingway wrapped up the night in a ridiculously funky fashion and had to be stopped eventually by a very large doorman, but in his wake, he left a faithful group of very sweaty and satisfied revelers who wandered into the night toward god knows what. As for Banana Boy, he was last seen stumbling out of Sneaky Dee’s with a tremendously sexy babe on his arm. That’s all that I can say for now, unfortunately; hopefully someday more details will surface regarding the peculiar legend and history of Banana Boy, but this unexpected occurrence at the Steel Bananas One-Year Anniversary Party sheds great insight indeed into the case of this mysterious anomaly.

-The Darcys kick unheard-of amounts of ass. Conveniently, we have a feature on them in this month's issue of Steel Bananas, which you can check out here. If you want to listen to these rock monsters, here's a link to their myspace which you should check out why don't you.

-Jane's Party are a bunch of good dudes who play a bunch of good tunes. Check out their myspace if you feel like why don't you. Here is also a review we did a few months ago of their album, The Garage Sessions.

-Hemingway is so insanely funky I doubt you'll be able to handle it. If you feel like you might be up to the challenge, check out his myspace why don't you. We interviewed him a few months back as well, you can read the results here.

-The Body Electric is Steel Bananas' own Patrick Grant and he is a mega-cool guy, to be certain. Here also is his myspace which you should check out why don't you. You can read the article that he wrote for Steel Bananas this month here.

-Banana Boy is still at large.