A sea snake ought to be a dull creature, not particularly menacing, swimming alone
through salted-waters. I can’t realistically imagine it hunting or stalking, coming
to the mainland, coiled, hiding in the tall grass. I’d see a sea snake in the belly
of a whale and it would survive in there.
Sometime in the fall, 2002, Sea snakes abruptly became a band. They thought they
would play quiet songs, and sometimes they still do. If you had found them prior
to this time you would have seen friends stretching many years, already engaged
in things closely related - though different somehow in sound and scope. Shaw-han Liem,
Kristian Galberg, and Jim McIntyre had been writing songs together for a year already.
They huddled together in the basement of the house they shared, imagining horns and
percussion and other instruments playing along to their modest creations. They wanted
to play with a drummer like Nathan Lawr and so it was a happy coincidence when he moved
back across the country, called and offered his time without solicitation. They
discussed sea snake matters in twilight on the porch. Jeremy Strachan was often there,
and when at last they finally practiced he was there too. They played their first show
three weeks thereafter.
2003 summer plans included the recording of a short ep. In true fashion
they worked slowly and did not stop until they had recorded their first full
length record and a few more songs to boot. The record was made in the abandoned
parts of a century-old house scheduled for demolition. It was poorly kept and
when the sun went down they played in the dark. Jeff McMurrich was living
downstairs, putting things to tape in between his time recording the Hidden
Cameras and other Toronto bands. With this record titled and complete (Clear as
day, the darkest tools) Sea Snakes have decided they’d like to make more records,
play some shows, and maybe figure out what exactly it is that they are doing. It is
an uncertain future; they wouldn’t have it any other way.