Let’s inject a little fun into this so-far desultory winter by digging into the fine art of finding a meaningful name for a musical group that will set it apart and beg acknowledgement. Given we live in a small town, that uniqueness and recognition might not extend very far—but it might not need to.
Before I even lived in Whistler, I was enamoured of the names of bands I encountered here. The Hairfarmers, She Stole My Beer and Whole Lotta Led are brilliant, each for a different reason. And having been in a few transient ensembles back in Ontario, as I moved through the years here (some 23 now) other possible local band names would occasionally pop into my head—many while riding lifts. Since this season has seen a marked increase in time spent pondering life on stalled lifts, my partner Asta and I have had plenty of time to riff on these and write them down. It turned out to be a fun game to play while swinging in the wind.
To start, any number of party-band names resonate with the privilege, task and absurdity of living here: Where’s the Plow?, Last Season’s Lies, Rumour Mill, Parking Nightmare, The Olympic Gougers, Second Chair, The Singing Passholes, The Crazy Canuckleheads, The Rehabostatics, The Weak-end Warriors, Rezoning Dèja Vu, Dirty Draft Line, Living the Dream and Fifty Seasons Gone. I only put a period there so you could take a breath before reading The Sideslippers, The Squamptones, Downhill Blues Band, Midnight Slice, The Lil’ Rippers, Running Gates and The D-spins.
Next are odes to skiing/boarding: Ragdoll, Yard Sale, Double Ejection, School of Rocks, The Snow Snakes, Piste Hazards, Core Shots Orchestra, The Delaminates, The Bent Poles and (of course) The Stoned Groomers. And those referencing runs: Blowing Chunky’s, Err Jordan, The Gunbarrelers, The Musical Dumps, Burnt Ratfink Stew, Don’t Freakin’ Miss, The Permanent Closures and Fitzsimmons Fitzsimmons (because what’s another thing named Fitzsimmons?). Or to do with snow: How Deep Was It?, Up to Here, Analog Snow Phone, Big Dump, Death Cookies and Sastrugi Rain Crust.
Anyone miss The Boot Ballet? Of course, you do. That’s a great throwback name, but how about Temple of the Boot or Ghost of the Boot? Considering core mountain culture, there’s The Lifties, Seppo’s Army, The Dirtbaggers, Planetary Ski Bohemians and Duct Tape Boogie Band. (Wouldn’t the perfect ski-town duel be a double bill featuring The Patrollers and The Poachers?)
Nature needs to be repped, too. Though the occasional unpigmented bear pops up around Whistler, there’s a greater preponderance of albino banana slugs, so The Spirit Slugs seems fitting. The muni deserves recognition: Whistler’s Other (apologies to Grant Wood), RMOW Speedwagon, or The Sustainability Blues Band, because, despite aspirations, Whistler is anything but until we kill this other band: The Useless Leafblowers.
Then there’s musical genres. How about an Aussie-rock tribute called Oi Oi Oi? Moguldeath works for metal. So does Columnar Joints (the basalt you see along the highway) or even Black Tusk (a bazillion businesses use this name, but a band seems obvious). Punk names channeling mayhem are legion: The Village Homicides, Dead Bears, Epic Fail, Westside Toad, Midday Sirens, The Lugers, Butthole Snowboarders and River of Golden Showers. Speaking of the latter, how about The Exploder 200s? Folk rock is also low-hanging fruit: The Sea to Skydiggers, The 99ers, The Hemlocks, Frog Hollow (bluegrass) and The Whistling Marmots (a cappella).
I bought a place in Creekside when I first moved here because it was easier to ski from than the village. That long-destroyed promise is reflected in Creekside Clusterf*ck, Parkade Fire, The Cracksiders and Fresh Tracks Massacre (the odious program has been renamed, but the original moniker deserves ignominy).
What would a list of resort-town band names be without an ode to tourists? When I worked at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto, we called our jam band Killed by Tourists because an inordinate number of snakes in our collection bore origin tags stating those very words. This has limited applicability in Whistler, but there are plenty of amusing names that less-caustically conjure our valued visitors: The All-Season Radials, YVR Driving School, The Off-Leash Dogs, The Illegal VanCampers, Highway Closure Redux, Liftline Catastrophe, The Lost Lake Lost and Tube Park Disaster come to mind.
I even have a small trove of names inspired by my own 72-Hour Filmmaker Showdown finalists—Rob Boyd is God (from Favourite Son), Whistler Bathroom Odyssey (from Missing), and Confessions of a Ski Bum (from 32 Short Films About Johnny Thrash).
And finally, you don’t end up with a phone full of band names without having favourites. Our Top 10: Bomb Tram, Halfday Ticket, Hotbox Gondola, Eighteen Roommates, Gold Medal Hangover, Broken Snowschool Scene, Death Before Download, Hot Tub Sound Machine, Slow Zone Police Club, and the one that kicked it all off, Thirtybuckburger.
Since copyright doesn’t apply to band names (they’re considered branding), the only way to protect them is by registering a trademark. I don’t have the time, money or inclination to do that, so if you like any of the names I’ve listed, get on it. You can steal me a beer sometime.
Leslie Anthony is a Whistler-based author, editor, biologist and bon vivant who has never met a mountain he didn’t like.
