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Midnight in Kansas City. A lunatic with a megaphone chants about inner city problems while a sleepy Canadian kid in a hotel room tries desperately to block the disjointed ramblings from invading his weary mind. But it's too late.

Years later, Our Lady Peace vocalist Raine Maida is still haunted by the oddly harrowing experience. On "Birdman," a darkly seductive track from the Toronto foursome's stunning debut effort Naveed, Maida asks, "How did you think that his words just might fade away...how do you forget a stranger that plagues your days?"

"I assume he was some kind of politician that lost it and was living on the streets and just going nuts all night," begins Maida with the brand of easy charisma that assures a spellbound audience for each of his effortless tales. "It was so strange. [The next morning] I just caught a few words as I passed by him, and he was one of the most intelligent people I've ever heard speak. Right then I had this enlightenment. I didn't give him a chance, and
there's probably so many times where you miss opportunities because you form an opinion so quickly."

With this dedication to keeping an open mind, Our Lady Peace, rounded out by guitarist Mike Turner, bassist Chris Eacrett, and drummer Jeremy Taggart, came together with the requirement that each visceral player be steeped in an entirely different musical requirement.

What proved a fruitful decision by way of dynamic backbeats and worldly nuance also poses unique problems. "It's just four people in a room banging their heads together," Maida insists. "It's always tough to get four people that are as diverse as we are to agree to a certain idea, but in the end, if everybody can live with it then you know it's got to be good."

Though art by consensus seems dubious at best, for Our Lady Peace it reaps grand vision backed by deft songwriting. Taggart's pummeling percussion breathes beneath a thickly ominous bass and gyrating guitar while Maida's urgent vocals weave in and out of the lush soundscape, churning chaos and courting angels.

And courting the media. With an onslaught of industry pariahs bent on turning mere mortals to superstars, Our Lady Peace are poised on the verge of a maelstrom. Comfort comes in the form of distance and integrity. Maida explains. "I think every time we get back home in our little dingy rehearsal hall and once we start writing again, it's like a centering thing. It's a grounding thing when you realize why you're doing it, because if you lose that there's really no point. I can go sell hockey sticks or something. It wouldn't make a difference."

Our Lady Peace singer Raine Maida quietly enters the dimly lit lounge of the Wedgewood Hotel in downtown Vancouver, inconspicuously slipping into a crowd that is bellied up to the bar, waiting to be seated for dinner. His youthful awkwardness and inappropriate attire of the denim overalls in a lavish room of old world decor is pleasantly amusing. Especially considering the growing celebrity of Maida. Canadian radio airplay of OLP's single "Starseed" has been heavy, while the song's video has been highly requested on the MuchMusic channel, making the band the Great White North's most promising musical export and Maida one of Canada's newest stars.

Maida stands anxiously awaiting the call to dinner, shuffling his feet while toying with the little ponytails he's managed to make all over his head with tiny rubber bands before arriving this cool, February evening. "I got my haircut on the road," he explains about the current state of his hair as he sits down to dinner.

"The lady cut my hair like some preppy boy I hate. So, I had to fuck it up." Guitarist Mike Turner and Bassist Chris Eacrett jovially take their places at a table lined with white linen. Hurriedly, 19-year-old drummer Jeremy Taggart scrambles to a chair, claiming it like a child playing musical chairs. Taggart stops, second guesses himself and looks up from the table through his thick, black rimmed, Costello-esque glasses and asks no one in particular, "Is this seat OK?"

Passing hors d'oeuvre trays back and forth, Maida matter of factly chats about the band's humble beginnings and discovery based on a three song demo. "A friend of mine got it into some hands at Geffen and they called one day," comments Maida.

"I think that made a lot of Canadian labels kind of stand up and see what was going on. Sony Canada came in as we were talking with Geffen and I think Interscope. We only had four songs that were finished and hadn't really developed a following either, 'cause we hadn't been playing [live] a lot. So, we just said 'Look, if you're serious [about signing us], come down to the rehearsal hall and we'll play there.' Sony came the very next day with the [label's] president, the head of A&R and the head of publishing." Sony won the bidding war, inked the deal and is now distributing the band's debut album Naveed in the US through Relativity.

"I don't know if this is a unique situation or not [with Sony], but everything we've wanted to do so far we've done," Maida continues.

"We did all the [album] artwork, conceptual ideas and picked our video director ourselves. We basically recorded the whole record in three and a half months and our A&R guy left us alone. It's been amazing. We have complete control with everything." From the end of the table, Turner agrees, and offers insight into the diverse influences that went into the creation of Naveed.

"Jeremy is like a little jazz fiend," Turner begins, "I'm actually from Bradford [England] and the first music that got to me was punk." "Chris is heavily into Rage Against The Machine and a lot of heavier stuff," adds Maida.

"I love Sinead O'Connor and I really get off on Bjork. Being a singer, I get off musically on the acrobatics of female vocals more than males. Although, I really admire Jeff Buckley's style. Jeremy and I both listen to a lot of Indian Music too. We all have completely different tastes [and will] listen to whatever and pass CDs around [to each other]. It's good, 'cause there's always a balance if we're writing."

The musical and lyrical balance is apparent on Naveed. Once a criminology major at the University Of Toronto, Maida says his lyrics offer some very depressing "analytical" viewpoints on life. Yet the album's title is spiritually uplifting. It's named after a friend of mine," Maida says.

"His name is Naveed. He's Iranian and one day he told me the background [of the name] was a person referred to as a bearer of good news. We don't want to make this seem like a big concept album. But it just seemed to be fitting for us to kind of put some optimism in the whole record. I mean, the lyrics are kind of dark and I think one can see there's an aggressive nature to the record. But we didn't want to be another angry band that didn't think."

Sitting stiffly back in his chair, Maida appears unsettled throughout the meal as waiters bustle past him.

"I'm wearing a brace right now," he reveals.

"My back is pretty sore. I just got out of the hospital four days ago from being in traction. A disc slipped in my back for no apparent reason. I've never injured my back or been in an accident. This is the third time it's happened in my life. We're trying to reschedule the tour for those shows we postponed. It's kind of depressing. I just don't want to get stuck in a Vancouver hospital for another week," he says as we gather our belongings. We leave and find our way to a nightclub just a few short blocks away, where Maida will soon take the stage.

The band slide in the back entrance, unbeknownst to a crowd of teens getting their hands stamped at the front door. It's obvious the place doubles as a dance club or sports bar depending on the occasion. But tonight, it's a cave with dwellers clad in dark, layered attire waiting, slightly impatiently, for Our Lady Peace to perform.

With a gentlemanly entrance, the foursome seize the stage, quickly energizing the audience with the first angry guitar chords and a steady drumbeat. The sea of bobbing heads on the venue floor takes a violent turn as arms flail in every direction with the beginning chords of songs like "Starseed" and "The Birdman." Soon the band breaks into an electric version of the familiar Neil Young song, "Needle And The Damage Done." Their version made it on the Neil Young tribute compilation entitled Borrowed Time. The single was embraced by radio and subsequently became a hit, entrancing both Young and Our Lady Peace fans alike.

Maida's vocals and inquisitive lyrics add the unique element to the group whose music is often compared to the Seattle grunge sound.

"I read a lot. I'm just kind of a media junkie," says Maida regarding the nature of his songs.

"[In my writing] there's always an amalgamation of philosophical ideas." His personality on stage  exudes this depth, while Taggart's musicianship may be the secret weapon in Our Lady Peace's arsenal for success. Taggart's focused rhythmic style leaves little need for additional percussion, a fact that is readily apparent as the band's dynamic live show continues. It's apparent that club security is not prepared for the fanatical crowd, as Maida is narrowly missed by several energetic stage divers during the course of the show. Walking off stage, Maida is still visibly shaken by the fear of being injured again. He makes it a priority to heal more before beginning a major market tour of the US, which is slated to begin late March in Boston. Our Lady Peace wants to make a serious impact Stateside, as they are genuinely impressed by all the airplay the band's debut single "Starseed" is receiving.

As Turner emphatically states, "I'm just looking forward to getting there."

Where did the name come from?

Ever see the movie Quiz Show? It's all about this poet from Illinois named Mark Van Doren.
He was a tastemaker poet back then (the '50s). The poem titled "Our Lady Peace" is very
interpretive, the more you read it, the more you start seeing things in it. That philosophy
transcends into what we want our music to sound like. We just thought the name would suit it.
 

What's behind the song "Starseed"?

Not a whole lot. The lyrics are my take on religion. I'm into a lot of meditating. My Dad was
Catholic and he tried to school me in that, but I never really caught on. I'm always interested
in religion and the way it effects society. The "Starseed" thing is about going out on a
meditation journey and coming back with something tangible. Something you actually believe
in. Something that means something to me. In Western society, trying to have that
incorporated into any religion would be hard to accept. Most people are hard pressed to
change their views. I realized with my Dad you can't change the old dog.
 

How has the band reacted to the sudden radio support of the song?

It's been weird because we're just sitting at home right now. We're doing a couple shows,
but our tour starts on the 28th. We can't wait.
 

What were you doing before all this started happening?

Jeremy, our drummer, was in high school, I was in the university. So was our bass player
Chris. Mike was the only guy who was working. We're all kinda just getting out of school.
 

Being from Canada, do you prefer warm or cold weather touring?

Definitely warm. I'm not a big fan of the big block of ice.
 

Why did you do a cover of Neil Young's "Needle And The Damage Done"?

We were asked, while recording our record to do a song for the (Young) tribute record. We
took the liberty of picking that one before anybody else could. That whole song fit the vibe
of our record, and we recorded it at the tail end of our sessions. It just seemed to be the
12th song.
 

Who do you pick to win the Stanley Cup in '95?

Toronto, of course! No, they're slacking these days. Probably Chicago, y'know?
 

What are your favorite ways to pass long winter nights?

Playing. That's what we've been doing all winter in Canada. It make it easier when you're all
hot in the club.
 

What one thing about Our Lady Peace should people know that they probably don't?

We kick ass live. That's the thing for us. Yesterday and today we did MTV and The Jon
Stewart Show. All that's fine, and the radio support is great, but we just want to get out
there and play. That's what we're all about.

Against the alternately heavy and stinging attack of guitarist Mike Turner and muscular rhythm provided by drummer Jeremy Taggart and bassist Chris Eacrett, lead singer and lyricist Raine Maida emotes like a fairly angst-driven young man. But calling from a tour stop in Rhode Island, the 24-year-old Maida is soft-spoken and easygoing. He's also a former criminology student two credits shy of a degree and saving up for a laptop computer so he can take some courses on the road.

"I listen to a lot of Middle Eastern stuff, and a lot of female singers like Tori Amos, Sinead O'Connor, Bjork," he says when asked about his own influences. "Any of the ones that tend to be acrobatic. And honest, which is another quality they all possess as well. They're very passionate."

Formed only two years ago, Our Lady Peace quickly became a hot property after Maida and a friend passed the band's demo tape around to several labels at New York's CMJ music conference in 1993. "Geffen got back to us, and Interscope," recalls Maida. "I think the rest of the industry just kind of heard word of mouth about the band, and we got a bunch of calls from different labels."

Without a lot of live-gig or touring experience behind them, the fledgling band was determined to find a label that would let it develop at its own pace. "We ended p going with Sony Canada," says Maida. "We didn't want to rush things, and we needed to play live a lot. They allowed us to do that. Relativity down in the U.S. has been exactly the same. They're very much into letting us forge our own way and helping us, rather than being a big dictator label that has this machine they just throw you into."

As for Maida's hometown, he definitely sees a music scene on the rise. but he's also quick to point out that Toronto shouldn't be pegged as the next Seattle. "I get asked if there's a definite scene," he says. "I wouldn't say that Toronto has its own sound, because it's very diverse. Just in the last two years I think it's become really healthy. There are probably between 15 and 20 clubs where an independent act can play, even if you don't have a CD to
sell. So original music is thriving there."

Our Lady Peace has come in from the cold, literally, to do a sound check at the Starfish Room in Vancouver for the band's second sold-out show there in as many months. Guitarist Mike Turner was amazed the first time; he thought people were lined up around the block because the club hadn't opened. He's not blase yet, but he finds it amusing that people are treating him differently now that the Toronto quartet's debut, Naveed, has gone gold in Canada and was released in the States in April. "They keep saying, 'Congratulations on your success'," he says incredulously. "We didn't know we were successful. We're barely breaking even."

Whether Turner's aware of it or not, most young bands would sell their relatives for the kind of opportunities Our Lady Peace has had in the past year. He and singer Raine Maida were in another band -- "not a very good one," Turner says -- so they sacked the rhythm section and hired bassist Chris Eacrett and drummer Jeremy Taggert. The band attempted to put a demo together, "but we ran out of money after three songs," Turner says. "It was
all self-financed, same old story. A friend of ours was going to CMJ, so we dubbed a few copies of what we had -- they didn't even have printed sleeves, just a phone number jotted on them -- and he passed those out. We started getting phone calls right away, and it was like, 'Well, maybe we ought to take this a little more seriously.'"

Sony Music Canada released Naveed last spring, and it's been a relatively smooth building process since then. The support of a record company is nice, Turner says, as is the increasing attention, "but it's not the be-all, end-all. Although it helps."

The point, after all, is the music. Our Lady Peace has the energy and emotion to communicate with its audience, especially live. It's what keeps fans coming back for more. Turner shrugs. "Music can be an addiction. But maybe if you were to substitute the word ambitious for addictive..." He switches into a posh British accent. "I think it was Oscar Wilde who said something about ambition being a two-edged sword." Back in his own voice, he says, "We're all in the gutter, but some of us look up to the stars, and you can be happy in the gutter if you don't know to look up. So the people who can become addicted and driven and sort of obsessed by music are the ones who look up and see the heights they can try to get to. But that drive never lets them be happy where they are."

Most artists experience that frustration. "There's a line between art and commerce," Turner says. "A lot of times, you make a painting, and you go, 'Yeah, I like that,' and you put it away in your basement, or you paint over it. Canvas is expensive. But sometimes you want to get whatever your art is out to a bigger audience. It's a perfectly human trait to want to know if you're doing a good thing."

He pauses. "Or it could be the idea that you are contributing something on a larger scale. Art imitating life, and the essence of art is the distance between conception and perception. The only way you know if you've gone that distance is to expose it to other people. For verification." He shrugs again. "We just play rock 'n' roll."

It shouldn't be surprising religion runs through the music of an act whose moniker could double as the name of a parochial school. The debut single from Our Lady Peace, "Starseed," is No. 14 on the Modern Rock Tracks chart.

"It was based on this book by Ken Carey, 'The Starseed Transmission,' about a channeling experience he had," says singer Raine Maida. "I took the premise of that and combined it with Western religion and how it's so hard to convince my father's generation of anything other than the religious values instilled in them."

"My dad tried to raise me as a Catholic," recalls Maida. "Every time I talk about religion with [him] it's kind of tough, you just kind of have to go about it on your own and persevere under the duress of your family, usually."

The singer suggests nontraditional religion is finding a welcome audience. "I think our whole generation is looking for [answers] and looking for bits and parts of religion and not being sucked in by the whole stringent approach, like Catholicism and stuff like that. And the [song's] whole chorus is about if you've had this channeling experience and found something that actually meant something to you, bringing it back and trying to convince anybody else is
not always an easy task.

"We're obviously not the first generation to [seek spiritual answers], but it seems really relevant right now, especially the last few years with the economy and everything, everyone's questioning stuff. Especially my three years at the University [of Toronto], it seemed like everybody was just passing time, and they knew they wouldn't have a job [upon graduation]. They were still going through the motions. It's just been a weird few years.

"I think these days with the whole global village, information is so readily available, you can learn about Taoism or any type of philosophy or religion, so you can pick good things out of all of them and make your own... If you are going to have religion, it should be something you're comfortable with, not something you're fighting."

Raine Maida - vocals
Mike Turner - guitars
Chris Eacrett - bass
Jeremy Taggart - drums
 

The darkly seductive debut by Our Lady Peace, Naveed, is a compelling release driven by equal parts guitar, bass, drums and the forceful vocals of Raine Maida. Bent on stimulating the mind and the soul, these four young musicians have delivered a decisively gutsy record.

 While Our Lady Peace guides its listeners into fairly ominous waters, Maida insists the darkness is underlain with optimism. "Naveed is an ancient Middle Eastern term for bearer of good news encompassing the distance between mysticism and reality," he explains. Naveed bursts with emotional openess coupled with Maida's stream of consciousness musings. The singer intentionally leaves his lyrics open-ended, but the themes are universal, questioning spirituality, love, liberty, hope and despair.

 The band embarked on their quest less than three years ago when Raine, a first year criminology student at the University of Toronto, and Mike Turner (a British expatriate who hails from Yorkshire), met and began playing with a succession of rhythm sections. After agreeing in principle to seek out players with as little musical common ground as possible, they joined forces with visceral bassist Chris Eacrett and recent high school graduate Jeremy Taggart, a drummer weaned on the jazz of Miles Davis and John Coltrane.

 Maida, 24, puts Otis Redding at the top of his list of influences followed equally by a number of female vocalists including Janis Joplin, Sinead O'Connor and WOMAD artist Sheila Chandra, "because these women are more willing to get naked vocally."

 Naveed reflects the passion and conviction inherent in youth. Using their diversity as a compass, Maida's vocals ride the tension in the music driving the anthemic "Birdman," the eastern modalities of "Starseed" and the spiritual odyssey of "Hope." Turner's sinuous riffing is pitted against propulsive rhythms redolent of ancient rituals on tracks like "Denied," while things take a decidedly modern turn on the apocalyptic "Dirty Walls." Through all the mood swings, however, Raine's startlingly expressive voice remains constant, compelling and sirenic.

 Think then of Our Lady Peace as your guides on a trek embarked upon without a map. With Naveed as the first signpost, you can be sure the journey with be fraught with, well... good news.

Our Lady Peace reveal origin of 'Naveed' U.S. debut album as they get set for tour dates with Sponge

"'Naveed' was a friend of mine," explains Our Lady Peace singer Raine Maida about the title of his band's debut record (on Relativity). "It's Persian for 'Bearer of Good News,' and in the lyrics, there's always some kind of optimism... the ides was to thread some positivity through the entire record."

With themes that are both spirited and spiritual, Our Lady Peace meld East Indian musical influences with supple, twisting guitar lines and rock-solid rhythms. Lyrically, Maida tackles themes of despair and redemption on songs like "Starseed," "Denied" and "Naveed."

The Toronto-based quartet debuted last week on Billboard's "Heatseeker" chart, while 'Naveed' is already gold in Canada. Now in the midst of a U.S. tour just weeks after making their national television debut on The Jon Stewart Show April 4th, Our Lady Peace are creating a grass roots critical buzz. B-Side called 'Naveed' "a great energy vibe" while Raygun praised the album's "snaky riffs, rich dynamics and propulsive grooves." Request Magazine raved about their live show and said "Our Lady Peace has the energy and emotion to communicate with its audience, especially live."

"'Naveed' was a friend of mine," explains Our Lady Peace singer Raine Maida about the title of his band's debut record (on Relativity). "It's Persian for 'Bearer of Good News,' and in the lyrics, there's always some kind of optimism... the ides was to thread some positivity through the entire record."

With themes that are both spirited and spiritual, Our Lady Peace meld East Indian musical influences with supple, twisting guitar lines and rock-solid rhythms. Lyrically, Maida tackles themes of despair and redemption on songs like "Starseed," "Denied" and "Naveed."

The Toronto-based quartet debuted last week on Billboard's "Heatseeker" chart, while 'Naveed' is already gold in Canada. Now in the midst of a U.S. tour just weeks after making their national television debut on The Jon Stewart Show April 4th, Our Lady Peace are creating a grass roots critical buzz. B-Side called 'Naveed' "a great energy vibe" while Raygun praised the album's "snaky riffs, rich dynamics and propulsive grooves." Request Magazine raved about their live show and said "Our Lady Peace has the energy and emotion to communicate with its audience, especially live."

Continuous touring in the U.S. will bring Our Lady Peace to almost every major market by the summer's end. Having already toured through many East and Midwest cities, including performing for over 16,000 people at 99X's Atlanta show, Our Lady Peace will play a handful of dates in May with Ned's Atomic Dustbin and begin a coast to coast U.S. tour with Sponge in June.

 Our Lady Peace now drink from the fountain that eludes most Canadian rock bands: They're selling records in the United States.

 "We've been working so hard, we haven't had time to enjoy it," says Our Lady Peace singer Raine Maida, whose band plays Edgefest tomorrow at the Molson Amphitheatre.

 After two months of touring the U.S., a project that will continue until Christmas, Maida sounds exhausted.

 "Because (the U.S.) is so big and there are so many cities, it seems a lot more overwhelming than Canada, just from the amount of work we're doing."

 In the year since the Toronto outfit's debut album Naveed was released in Canada, it's gone certified gold, having sold over 50,000 copies.

 But more notable is the fact that only two months after Naveed's subsequent U.S. release, the album
has surpassed sales of 100,000 copies in the U.S., with Starseed, the single, getting good play.  Receptive audiences aside, Maida still hasn't cracked the American mystery.

 "My whole preconception with America was that thing with The Tragically Hip," he explains. "I don't understand why, an hour-and-a-half across the border, people don't know the Hip. It just floors me.  "But with us, (U.S. audiences) have been coming out just because Starseed has been on the radio. Then, as we go through our set, we're winning pockets of people over. Halfway through a set you can see it on their faces, and from then on it's easy."

 Lately, some of those faces have been recognizable. Among the punters on hand to see Our Lady Peace at CBGB's in New York last month were Iggy Pop, Henry Rollins and even John McEnroe.  And, a personal invitation from Jon Stewart to appear on his talk show wound up turning the heads of Robert Plant and Jimmy Page.

 The band opened four dates for Page & Plant several weeks ago.

 "Plant was so nice," Maida says. "None of us were Zeppelin fans, but in four days I think I became one." Even more memorable for Maida was a recent gig in Oklahoma City, where the band donated their $400 keep from the show to the Red Cross.

 "We were really hesitant about going in and doing a show," says Maida. "We weren't confident that city was ready to hear music. But in walked 150 of these Special Forces people in all their gear. What an
experience."

 As for Our Lady Peace's premeditated goals?

 "We've already achieved a lot of what we wanted to do: Just get down here and be able to fill a 500-seat
club.

 "The luxury I think we have now is that when we decide to do another record we can plan a U.S. tour right away.

 "We're really lucky," he adds. "Our perspective is a lot different now."

They've gone gold in Canada, but the four members of Our Lady Peace don't expect to make it big in the U.S. overnight

Here's a stumper for you. What Canadian musical act has played shows in the past year with the Ramones, Page and Plant, and Ned's Atomic Dustbin? OK, let's get the usual suspects out of the way. Bryan Adams? Nope. Celine Dion? Unh, unh. The Tragically Hip? Not even close.

No, the band that may be Canada's first alternative rock band to make significant inroads into the American market -- Nova Scotians Sloan and Jsle are still out of the commercial loop -- is none other than Our Lady Peace. Already a bona fide hit in the Great White North, where its debut album, Naveed, has gone good, the band has started a slow, protracted attack on the lower 48, developing a grass-roots following that -- they hope -- will eventually carry them to the next level.

"Right now it seems like we've been selling out 500 seat clubs in about 10 or 15 markets in the U.S.," says lyricist and vocalist Raine Maida. "If we can play a great show, that's all we expect to do on this tour. Even if we left today it seems like there's a small following to remember us next time around."

Maida is fairly rooted in the philosophy that if it's meant to be, success will happen -- but that doesn't mean it has to happen overnight; signed to Sony Music Canada, Our Lady Peace chose Relativity Records, an independent label with international distribution, for its U.S. debut.

"We were talking to Epic and Columbia, but Relativity was really into it -- they knew all the songs. We figured if we were going to go down to America we'd rather be with a small label that was still about the music, instead of getting thrown into a corporate machine."

But a small label that cares about the music won't be able to overcome one of the biggest obstacles in the band's way. Although Naveed has been out in Canada for more than a year, Our Lady Peace will inevitably be tagged as Live wannabes -- their music and Maida's voice fall into the same hard, melodic rock vein of Pennsylvania's favorite sons. But that's what they said about Stome Temple Pilots, right?

"About a year ago no one knew that much about Live and I was listening to that record big time," Maida says. "They were young like us -- we probably come from some of the same influences. Hopefully we can grow with them -- there's room."

One of the many places Our Lady Peace diverges along a path less taken is in its decidedly positive outlook. The album's title was the name of an Iranian college friend of Maida's. "I asked him what his name meant one day and he said Naveed was an ancient term for the bearer of good news. When we were recording the record there were a whole lot of bands being angry for the sake of being angry -- we didn't get into that."

Naveed opens with a driving montage of rhythm and electric guitar on "The Birdman," as Maida's voice freely dances through his range, from low ruminations to controlled wails, occasionally hearkening back to another screaming rocker from an earlier time.

"When people would say in Canada that I sounded like Robert Plant, I'd be like, 'I don't know what the fuck you can hear of me in Plant,'" he remembers. "But I've been getting that a lot. It was weird to have the Page and Plant [shows] happen. We were never really big fans of theirs. But then after getting to meet Plant it was kind of cool. He's still got his ear to the ground of what's out there."

While Maida's vocal coaches range from Otis Redding to Janis Joplin and Sinead O'Connor, his bandmates look in other directions for inspiration. Guitarist Mike Turner is a punk baby, having been born in Yorkshire, England, and also adds some Middle Eastern influence to the band. Bassist Chris Eacrett is into the experimental poise of bands like Rage Against the Machine. And drummer Jeremy Taggert grew up around the music of Miles Davis and John
Coltrance.

Maida and Turner began playing together about three years ago after meeting at the University of Toronto, but they found their bandmates stifling.

"It was too stale because we were all into the same stuff. Any writing we were doing wasn't fresh," Maida explains. "Then we found [Eacrett and Taggart]."

"Jeremy's dad was a jazz drummer. His understanding of time signatures was beyond ours, so it was great for us to learn from hearing him. We needed someone really melodic on bass because there was only one guitarist." The resulting foursome has honed its talents by sending over a year on the road, putting nearly 100,000 miles on an old school bus. Maida reads voraciously, and literature informs his lyrics.

"I've read the Bible, I've read Dylan," begins the song "Supersatellite," from Naveed. "I'm reading People now because it's much more chilling."

The band's name, in fact, came from a poem by Mark Van Doren -- father of Charles Van Doren of Quiz Show fame. "It's a pretty dark poem -- about a mother figure watching over this town. There's some sort of desperation happening in the town, but this pied piper shows up and, in my mind, is the voice of optimism."

The members of Our Lady Peace may not be pompous enough to consider themselves the Pied Pipers of Toronto, but the music they're making is powerful, arresting and it gets under your skin. It draws you in -- kinda sorta like a pied piper.

Mike Turner, guitarist for Our Lady Peace, is in great spirits today; despite his hangover and deadbeat
status following a latenight crawl with Vancouver's own Moist. Carousing with music biz heavyweights
after dark appears to agree with him.

"We really enjoy being on tour with Van Halen," confesses the bleary-eyed musician. "We've been
treated extremely well. They're a ridiculously nice bunch of guys. Alex has even gone as far as adopting
Jeremy our drummer. He calls him "Little Al". It's funny though because we had actually turned down
this tour three or four times before we agreed to do it. We kept looking at it like: us, Van Halen, us,
Van Halen? I don't see a link musically. I wasn't a really big Van Halen fan. I came from more of the
punk background. They were the furthest thing away from what I was into musically."

So what finally happened that would allow Our Lady Peace to accept the kind of touring package most
bands would ordinarily kill for?

"We'd like to be judged on our live show," says Turner. "We're proud of the record and everything that
it has done but the reason we made it was so we could go out and play live. Being on tour with a band
as big as Van Halen meant that we'd be playing in front of a bigger audience than playing in front of a
club-sized crowd. It meant that more people would be exposed to our music. People seem to
understand a band better when they see them live."

Unfortunately, Our Lady Peace was forced to drop one week with Van Halen, cancel a three week
Australian tour and a European showcase due to lead singer Raine's back problem. They plan on taking
a month off to allow him ample time to recuperate.

Our Lady Peace have been touring in support of their debut release Naveed for the past eighteen
months, so the obvious question is: when are we going to hear some new material?

"We have had this horrible thing going on with staggered releases," explains Turner. "It came out almost
a year to the day later in the States, so we had to go down there and tour because it was brand new.
Then it was released in Australia. September first, it came out in most of Europe and in January it gets
released in the U.K." Says Turner with a laugh, "We could make this a career touring this one fucking
album!"

"But one thing we're planning on doing with this month off is a lot of writing. We hope to have
something out by next spring-summer but realistically, we won't be able to get into the studio until at
least January. We really want to get in as soon as possible. We have actually got to the point where we
enjoy recording. The creative process is great!"

After one month's rest, it's back on the road for more touring in the United States until Christmas. They
resume in Los Angeles on October 14 and then hope to do a U.S. college tour with Better Than Ezra.

Life on the road has resulted in a "weird state of arrested adolescence" according to Turner. "People
tell you everything. Be here at this time, eat at this time, do this, do that. Every responsibility is taken
away from you." But Turner isn't really whining. "It's not that you fight them or anything like that but it's
sort of a weird thing. Like when you get home you realise `I have to cook for myself' or `nobody told
me what to do today. Wow that's kind of neat.' Your time is not your own. Don't get me wrong, I'm
not complaining. I'm the luckiest guy I know. I get to play music for a living. How hard can that be? But
it would be nice to have [more] control of your time."

Adolescence is a word that certainly comes to mind in reference to that long-standing tradition
concerning end-of-tour pranks. Since Vancouver is the last show for O.L.P. on this run, Turner
shudders to think of what could happen on stage later on that night.

"We've had pranks played on us and we've done it to other bands," says Turner. "Van Halen have told
us what they've done to other bands, possibly giving us a hint of what to expect. They've Crazy-Glued
the drummer's hi-hats together, poured honey on the drummer's set, poured honey on the drummer
from the lighting truss... they generally go for the drummer because he can't leave. He can't run! And
being that Alex has taken such a liking to Jeremy, he might be in a bit of trouble tonight."

Our Lady Peace are not exactly perfect angels when it comes to this interesting ritual. With a devilish
grin, the guitarist fondly recounts a tale about a tour with Vancouver's Salvador Dream: "We put
vaseline on his kick pedals, condoms over the microphones, and baby powder in the hi-hats so when
he went to play them this cloud of baby powder filled the stage and didn't clear up for the next three
songs! It was classic!" Just for the record, nothing extraordinary happened during their set that night.
Maybe the band's paranoia surrounding the final gig was a prank, in and of itself.

Landing on a mega-bill with an outfit like Van Halen, naturally begs the musical question concerning
crowds and their response to OLP's material. "Lets face it," says Turner, "most people who come to a
Van Halen show are of a particular type. They come to see Van Halen. But generally the response from
the audience has been good. I mean, some nights it's been like washing dishes. It's been a job. It's more
fun sometimes when you get that initial bad reaction," he says while imitating crowd booing. 'Hey I
haven't done anything yet. I can't suck yet!'

"You know. It's cool because you can watch people... usually it'll be a row of guys, not doing a thing.
Then a couple of songs into the set you'll see one turn to the other, `They're not bad' and by the end of
the show they're totally into it.

"It's a good feeling when you can win over a crowd like that. We've been so spoiled by playing and
touring for people who have been exposed and are into the music, that to play in front of people who
haven't, forces us to go out and play even better than before. Which, in the long run, has made us a
better band."

Most bands from outside the U.S. view it as the final frontier -- a place where a hit single is the proverbial ticket to fame and fortune. For Mike Turner, guitarist for the Canadian band Our Lady Peace, the attraction is less lofty: "Shorter drives between gigs," he says. "We're used to 30-hour trips."

Our Lady Peace hails from Toronto, where Turner hooked up with vocalist Raine Maida three years ago and later enlisted bassist Chris Eacrett and drummer Jeremy Taggart. Though the band is already big in Canada and has toured the country five times, "Starseed," from their Relativity debut Naveed, marks their U.S. debut. Featuring ringing guitars and urgent lyrics, the track boasts a directness reminiscent of the punk records that were Turner's
first influence. "When punk happened, I had something to be passionate about," he remembers. "It was like, 'I've got one good note, and I'll beat you over the head with it until I make my point.'"

Turner favors Gibson guitars, particularly as ES-135 "that wasn't on the record, but should've been," and Marshall amps, one of which died a messy and audible death at the end of "Denied." "There were no effects or EQ," Turner comments. "All the different tones came from the guitar, amp, and mike placement."

The American press has started to pigeonhole the band, tagging them with the dreaded "g-word." "Grunge is something you find under the sink, not a musical style," says Turner, who nonetheless exhibits some of the genre's stylistic traits. "I'm gonna play a song, not a solo and not a part. The band's role is to support a song."

Though he disdains flash guitar for its own sake, Turner respects judiciously applied technique: "I wish I'd learned about key signatures before we finished the record. Our producer would say, 'Try something else' and I'd say, 'I don't know what we're doing!' If I knew what I was doing I'd probably be dangerous."

Back in the Eighties, Our Lady Peace guitarist Mike Turner earned his stripes bashing out brittle power chords in various Canadian punk bands. Yet, despite punk's recent return to fashion, Turner has mixed feelings about his safety pin-wearing days.

"I probably pissed away eight years of my life when I could've been learning to become a better guitarist," he says. "The whole punk movement was necessary and relevant because it showed people that music wasn't all about technique. Unfortunately, that ethic mutated into the idea that you shouldn't learn to play your instrument, and that got me really twisted."

Upon OLP's formation in Toronto, in 1992, Turner rededicated himself to his axe, and began taking formal lessons. Clearly, his improved technique paid off when it came time to record the band's sonically riveting debut, Naveed (Relativity), which combines punk's passion with well-orchestrated guitar arrangements.

As Turner makes up for lost time and ambitiously tackles the music theory he once despised, he admits that working in disparate musical worlds has given him a distinctive outlook. "I've just now learned to appreciate a lot of the guitar greats," notes Turner, "but I'm still a punk at heart."

"About a half-dozen labels were interested in us, and they all wanted us to do the typical showcase gig so they could come check us out," says Raine Maida, the 24-year-old singer and lyricist. "But we were so new, we weren't even playing live shows yet.

"So we just said 'no' to the showcase," says Maida, whose band travels to The Palace on Saturday, along with alt-rock phenoms Candlebox and Detroit's own Sponge.

"We told 'em, 'If you're really serious about us, come down to our rehearsal space, and we'll play you the five songs.' We weren't sure if any of 'em would go for that."

Indeed, only one label -- Sony Canada -- accepted the invitation. Three executives, including the label president, drove to the embryonic group's Toronto digs.

"We played 'em the tunes, they dug 'em, and we spent the next few hours telling 'em what we needed," Maida says.

What they needed was full creative control -- not just over the music, but also over the album art and the marketing of the band. Plus, they insisted that they be allowed to develop slowly, at their own pace.

Amazingly, their chutzpah paid off. Our Lady Peace got what it wanted.

The band's 1995 debut, Naveed, has sold 150,000 copies in the U.S. and 200,000 copies in Canada. They were invited to open for such Jurassic rockers as Page/Plant and Van Halen, and they're presently playing to 20,000-seat arenas.

Says Maida: "We wanted to avoid what we've seen happen to a lot of bands -- which is, the label pours a million bucks into promotion, and if the single isn't happening after three weeks, it's 'Sorry, guys.'

"But Sony Canada completely left us alone -- they didn't hear the album until we turned it in."

And when the band chose a label for U.S. distribution, they found a similar family-style approach at the independent Relativity label.

Before recording Naveed, Our Lady Peace passionately embraced punk's primitive ethic, which holds that all you need are three chords and an attitude. But during the Naveed sessions, guitarist Mike Turner found that he lacked the technical
proficiency to play the melodies and chord changes he heard in his head.

"That was a problem," acknowledges Maida, who plays acoustic guitar in addition to his writing and singing chores. "We really had to pull up our socks during the sessions -- we all got better in a hurry.

"The cool thing about punk is that it's this explosion of creative energy. But if you can't play what you hear in your own head, it's sort of limiting, because the music has no place to go."

Their self-imposed crash course in musicianship made a definite improvement. On Naveed, the British-born Turner's cascading chords and thick, ringing tones reveal his stylistic debt to U2's the Edge. Drummer Jeremy Taggart's churning grooves and shifting time changes help the music transcend the rhythmic limitations typically imposed by punk's brute-force 4/4 skin bashing.

Our Lady Peace also stirs jazz, Middle Eastern and Indian forms into its brew. The modal Mideastern drones on such Naveed tracks as "Starseed" and "Denied" suggest some of Led Zeppelin's forays into Arabic styles. Maida confesses that, early on, the Mideastern vibe of those songs was even stronger than what we hear in the final mix.

"We decided we had to pull back on it a bit. We realized we weren't knowledgeable enough, or steeped enough in that kind of music, to give it the treatment and respect that it deserves."

The jazz element in Our Lady Peace's music comes compliments of 20-year-old drummer Taggart, who played in various post-bop ensembles before answering a classified ad placed by Maida and Turner.

"We intentionally chose a drummer and bass player who had very different musical backgrounds from me and Mike," Maida says. "That way, we can learn from each other, and we can broaden the playing field when it comes to writing songs.

"If we were four guys who all grew up on R.E.M., I think our music would just sound too derivative."

Essentially, a record company band bio is a thick block of record company propaganda that could
shatter the wrists of an infant. What I got was 30 pages of relatively the same interview done by 12
different reporters. Interspersed among the articles are matching album reviews that use eclectic
superlatives more suited to describe a nifty header by a British soccer player or the sexual abilities of a
psychic or a really bitchin’ Monster Truck show.

Anyway, I found that reading the record company band bio for the relatively new Toronto group, Our
Lady Peace, is like receiving a rectal examination from a dentist. A dentist armed with power tools from
a red tag sale at Beaver Lumber, who is totally sadistic due to the general stress from ceaselessly
looking down the hideous throats of unnecessarily unhygenic people. Then, apply that tsunami of
hostility to designing a document that's supposed to promote a rock band.

The band bio is vile and annoying and redundant. Not because Our Lady Peace is not a good band.
Our Lady Peace is an excellent band, even though they’re only in the inaugural stages of what could
turn into an exquisite career in the bratty little genre of rock ‘n’ roll. The band bio bites because it
attempts to give Our Lady Peace the praise they deserve and instead it comes across as a mundane,
one-sided informercial for record buying zombies, not spirited fans.

In some spots, Our Lady Peace is compared to a Pearl Jam/Soundgarden concoction. This bunk
beginning (i.e. is your head on Earth and your ears on Pluto?) leads into even more unconsciously
whacked comparisons.

The ultimate in tacky criticism, the oddest morsel in the trough of preconceived notions, the diamond
diarrhea of crappy reviews comes when Our Lady Peace is compared to Led Zeppelin. Not to take
anything away from either band, but that's like finding out that a Drag Queen with a peacock hat and
fruit salad dress, with cleavage burgeoning like the bugged-out eyes of a kid losing his Toys-R-Us
virginity, is really a blue-collar redneck suburbanite father, whose Godzilla king cab-truck looms in front
of his lavender brown duplex that houses his one normal wife (she's having an affair), his three normal
kids (the teenage girls who are anorexic and the boy who is well on his way to becoming a
pyromaniac), and one normal cat (who probably leads a double life two houses down, with a family
that originally mistook it as a stray).

Yeah, comparing Our Lady Peace to Zeppelin necessitates a nasty little run-on sentence.

Our Lady Peace's lead singer, Raine Maida, called from Pennsylvania to be interviewed. Eager to talk,
what follows is the words of a man seemingly unscathed by a dash into the zeniths of rock and candid
revelations of the noticeable experiences endured during that dash.

Enjoy. I did.

PEAK: Your singles and album have been received pretty well in the United States, eh?

Raine Maida: Yeah. We're lucky.

PEAK: [You may want to precede this next comment with a goofy and stumbling, “duh, gee. . .”] You
think so?

Raine: Well, I mean, I think there’s tones of good music that just doesn’t make it down here [in the
US]. We were fortunate to have “Starseed” [single from Naveed] do as well as it did; kinda give us
some ground to keep touring and get in front of more peoples' faces down here. Most bands, especially
a lot of Canadian bands that do well in Canada, they get a single released down here. [If the single]
doesn’t happen, they tour for like a week or two then they kinda have to leave. We’ve been touring
nonstop for like nine months, ten months, so we’ve made a huge dent in the American market.

PEAK: I was wondering what the university background brings to the band?

Raine: Uh, I don’t know. I ended up taking criminology at University of Toronto just because I got
really bored and music was pulling me away from the typical political science and sociology courses, so
criminology seemed to be like the only thing that kinda made me want to get up in the morning and go
to school after rehearsing until two at night. I never planned to use it anyway, other than, uh... I think all
university is kinda there to make you more of an analytical thinker, but criminology, really kinda makes
you delve into your own head I guess, because a lot of the time you are studying peoples' psyches. In
that respect, it put a kinda different twist in some of my lyrics.

PEAK: [This is where I really start to assume the half-wit simpleton persona] Um, I have this vision
sorta in my head of, “This institution thing sucks. Let's form a rock band”; how did it work for you
guys?

Raine: It's not that, uh... I think we’re all pretty big on education and university, it’s just, you know, I
think music is just where our hearts are. That type of creativity you can't just shut off, so ultimately it
kinda took over, and as soon as we found the right people, we had to put school aside. University will
always be there. This kind of opportunity, you know, the chance to make music and go out and play, is
unique.

PEAK: Constant comparisons to Soundgarden and Pearl Jam, even a little Led Zeppelin [what follows
is a question that should have been definitely rephrased, but the simpleton had inhaled my persona],
what do you think you guys sound like?

Raine: Ah, man, I don’t know. I know we opened up for Led Zeppelin, for Page and Plant and did a
bunch of shows with them in Chicago and Cincinnati, but I don't think we sound anything like them. We
were never Led Zeppelin fans. Even after watching them play, after hearing all the people comparing us,
especially me with my voice to Plant, it's not even close.

I don't know. I think people are just reaching for stuff. We've heard so many different comparisons that
you can't put your finger on one. I don't think it's a problem. If everyone said, “you guys sound like
REM,” and that was a consistent across-the-board comparison, I'd be a little worried.

PEAK: I read that you like to keep the writing as “emotionally open-ended as possible,” I was left
sorta wondering, where does politics fit in with this band? In terms of, you see somebody like Sting
being a political advocate through his music. Where does that fit in with you guys?

Raine: I don’t think it really does. There's a bunch of issues that we stand pretty firm on and will talk
about and be aggressive about. But for the most part, the things that happen to us and me in particular,
in terms of what I write in my lyrics, are not that unique. And there's no reason for me to sit on a fuckin’
pedestal and preach.

That’s probably one of my biggest fears. It's much more important to leave things so the listener can
connect. That's what music's about for me, it's about connecting, and if you’re preaching, they either
like it or they don't and they either agree with or... it gets too cut and dry. There’s not a whole lotta
room for that weird psychic connection, where you feel like, “Oh, maybe he's talking about something
that happened in my life.” You know, I'm probably not. But, it’s important for other people to take that
perspective.

PEAK: I’m wondering, how important Canadian identity is to you guys?

Raine: It’s really important. And, at first it was tough. Like "Starseed" started doing so well down here
that no one even questioned that we weren't an American band. So, we'd keep going on all these radio
stations and people thought we were from like Washington and Cleveland and all these places, and we
had to say, "No, we're from Toronto. We're Canadian."

It's quite important because there is a difference. And sometimes, you kinda walk into some of these
radio stations and you feel like such an outcast being Canadian, because they just have no perception of
what Canada is. What goes on the US, and really it's essentially not that different from Canada, but,
there are a few key points that we like to make note of. One is definitely the guns.

PEAK: Does the whole existing structure of the rock ‘n’ roll business ever start to seem stupid or
redundant or boring to you?

Raine: Well, you know what, we really isolate ourselves. We’re on our tour bus, and we do as little
business as possible. There is obviously a lot of major decisions involved in what we're doing, and for
the most part, we kinda take care of that first thing in the morning. You know, the rest of the day and
the rest of the week, we try to just focus on writing and playing live every night and being involved with
the music.

PEAK: With so many comparisons to the Seattle scene and with people thinking that you are
American, does it ever get frustrating that people are just generalizing?

Raine: It does, but that's the nature of people. They either have to categorize it or compare it to
something, just to put some sort of curve on where they're coming from; I sort of understand that.
Hopefully, this band by the next record will find its own sound and escape all those comparisons. We'll
see. Maybe not. Maybe we will put out a Pearl Jam record or something.

Our Lady Peace have an upcoming stint with Matthew Sweet, and a headlining tour across Canada
(which stops in Vancouver, at the Commodore in the first week of December).