Part I: Jonathan 

Jonathan Brodsky always loved music. From a young age, his father's stereo played a variety, from Acoustic Alchemy to Johnny "Guitar" Watson. Jonathan's ears were too young and fragile for him to be allowed in the loud room when the stereo was playing, but the sound emanating from behind the closed door captivated him. When he was a little bit older and allowed in the room, he immediately took to the large wall of compact discs. He began learning the logos of all the different record labels, correlating album art to their respective recordings, and most importantly, listening to the music.

It's surprising, then, that it took him until he was 10 years old to seriously begin both seriously listening to and playing music. His parents bought a piano - for furniture - shortly after Jonathan discovered The Beatles (who, amazingly, were never shown to him as a child), and by picking out their songs on the new instrument, Jonathan jump-started two passions: the passion of enjoying music, and the passion of creating it.

Jonathan experimented with composition in simple ways at first. Without any instruction, he was able to create little melodies and support them chordally. Over time, and through the discovery of other bands (Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath were big favourites at age 13), Jonathan's compositional structure changed and become more defined. He began writing rudimentary lyrics for some of his ideas. On April 24th, 2002, Jonathan wrote his first "proper" song, the juvenile Mr. Traitor. It showed a great leap from the short and repetitive scraps of his formative years as a musician, and the words and phrasing even gave a small glimpse into the angst, wordplay, and metrical precision of his later work, but there was still work to be done. It took him until April 24th, 2003 to write his second proper song, but by then, many things had changed...

By now, even with a very limited repertoire, the most diminutive gleam of future potential, and even less in the way of influence and direction, Jonathan was determined to make a career in music. His strong principles and high musical standards leading him to be a difficult personality, he was determined that any progress that he could make in the music industry would be legitimately earned his way. There would be no compromising to make whatever he did more palatable to an audience that would rather accept watered-down versions of his songs than enjoy his vision. A rather bold and precocious statement for a writer whose works could be counted on Django Reinhardt's left hand, but one that has held true to the present day. Asked by his parents if he would be interested in their help to assemble professional musicians to help elevate his work to a higher level of a depth, Jonathan declined their offer, and with the idea that more could be done with his music firmly entrenched in his mind, he set out to form a band.                                                                                                

Part II: Matthew 

Miss Mondrow's 1994-1995 first grade class at Wilshire Elementary School was comprised of seventeen students; seventeen six-year-old kids for whom learning had just begun. Matthew Drewnowsky, who was a student in this class, might argue that he still hasn't begun learning. More interested in gathering attention as a class clown than stickiing to the cirriculum, Matt's early school experience was the complete opposite of Jonathan's. A naturally sunny person who everyone wanted to be friends with (and whom most were), he easily avoided the social phobia and isolation that influenced his future bandmate's embryonic work. Their unlikely friendship happened - in just as unlikely a manner - one afternoon in the first grade class that they shared.

One afternoon, during a story read by a student teacher, Jonathan passed gas loudly. To a few kids in the class, this was apparently the most hilarious thing that ever took place. After being sent to the Kindergarten room for inability to control their laughter, one of the kids, Drewnowsky, was forced to apologize to Jonathan. Jonathan's response, more typical of six-year-olds now but back then almost entirely unheard of, was a solemn "fuck you". Far from putting Drewnowsky off, this elicited a "you're cool". Jonathan, an only child without friends, was happy to see an opportunity to make one, and invited Matt to his house that afternoon. He accepted.

Matt's interest in music was existent, but like Jonathan's, largely latent until adolescence. His older sisters listened to Silverchair and Smashing Pumpkins. He became interested in the Beatles as a result of Jonathan's eventual obsession with them, but though they would later become a shared favourite band and the subject of much discussion between the two (i.e. "How the fuck is everything they did so good?"), there was no immediate influence to become a musician.

Of course, then the band happened...

Part III: Forming A Band

The summer between elementary and high school was a pivotal one for Jonathan. His exposure to the work and philosophy of Frank Zappa expanded his sonic vocabulary as to what music was capable of being. The realization that not all acts were democratic in nature caused a paradigm shift in his consideration of music, especially in how songs reached their final destinations from initial ideas to fully realized compositions.

Matthew's musical aptitude was a surprise. Jonathan was occasionally meeting with a young drummer who left an expensive but irritating sounding kit (no thanks to the vented snare) at his house. Whenever Matt was over, he expressed interest in trying the drums out. Though initially lacking the finesse of the other drummer, Matt slowly became coordinated, and when Jonathan asked the other drummer (who by now was rarely coming by, likely recognizant of the lack of chemistry) to bring over a different kit, it was apparent that something else was going on. No other kit was brought, the annoying one was removed, and an entry level Pearl Forum kit was rented afterward.  Just in case, a few other kids were sought out and came by to play the drums, but in mere weeks afterward, Matt was able to outplay those of them that he couldn't before. One fond recollection is that of Jonathan's father walking into the room to greet an auditioning drummer only to find that it was Matthew playing as the other boy was watching in awe. Something was evidentally at work.

Though playing together exclusively since around October 2002 (their first formal act as mutually exclusive musicians was braving through a particularly bad guitarist's audition), there were only so many times that Jonathan and Matthew could play Wipe Out before it was evident that something was missing.

That missing thing appeared to be Stephen Morayniss, a local guitarist. He was introduced to Jonathan at a local music store on March 29th, 2003 and - afer displaying more than considerable skill - was invited to jam that evening alongside Matthew. The pinitial musical chemistry was amazing. At this point, Steohen was evidentally the most developed of the musicians, though what the other two lacked in precision at the time they more than made up for in individual voice.  March 29th was considered the band's birthday from then on, and a few short days later, a table discussion during dinner with the band at the Brodsky's residence culiminated in Jonathan's suggestion of "Trapdoor" as a band name to be the most promising of the candidates, and a band was born.

Part IV: Trapdoor, Mk. I

Newly named and full of the freshness, vitality, and enthusiam that happens in a promising new project, the band began to rehearse with regularity. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, the band would meet at Brodsky's house for a few hours. Seeing as a laissez-faire attitutde tended to permeate the initial rehearsals, Brodsky quickly took the reins as leader, and as nobody else was willing to sing lead, fell into that position too. It was around this time that Brodsky wrote what he acknowledges as his first "good" song, a dynamic piece called On The Way Home. In the summer, this song, along with three other earlier Brodsky pieces, were recorded in a one-day session at Reaction Studios and distributed among bars and students at their high school. Even with new songs coming every so often, the band had such a limited repertoire at their first gig that they were forced to play a cover of Ozzy Osbourne's "Crazy Train" twice.

It was around this time, observing what other high school bands were doing, that the band began to realize that what it was doing was different. Though not radically departing from convention just yet, the band possessed an understanding of dynamic sensitivity, timbre, and subtle technicality that wasn't present with their peers. The price of being different in conjunction with the shy Brodsky bring make-shift frontman led to various degrees of antagonism from some members of the student body. There was gentle ribbing from some, but ill-intended jabs from others. Luckily, insecurity develops nothing if not sharp wit, and Jonathan's on-stage retorts to mid-performance heckling were generally clever and effective, exposing a side of him formerly unknown to his classmates and helping to earn them as fans.

However, though so much seemed to be in place, there was one important element missing from Trapdoor that all the other local bands had: A bassist. A friend of Jonathan and Matthew's from math class, Michael Reyder (neé Antonov), expressed interest in learning and quickly rented a 5-string Mexican Fender Squier Bass. Michael's audition consisted of playing four of Trapdoor's then six originals (represented solely by On The Way Home at present day) which was daunting as many of these songs did not have basslines. Michael's ability to craft parts for these songs that aided them instead of cramping their space only added to the positivity of the situation. As such, in May of 2004, after 15 months of existence, Trapdoor had a complete lineup. All seemed well, and all was, at least for a while...

Part V: 2005

Jonathan found that writing for bass allowed him to more easily write with everyone else in mind, and it was with a full band at his disposal that he began to take control of arranging the parts for all the instruments. Likening the experience to plaving the band as an instrument, his songs began to take an entirely different shape. The new music was less conventional, and even when they were conventional, they employed seamless use of odd metre and conflicting figures to create unique textures. One thing that was not forsaken was melody. The lyrics were improving in quality, stemmed by the determination that no words sung onstage should ever sound embarrassing, and the resulting compositions seemed more coherent, cohesive, and accomplished. This, in tandem with the fact that none of the boys were of age to legally play in bars, earned the band many admirers in the ones lenient enough to let them in. It was easier to convince places to let the band play with a newer eponymous seven track demo cut over a period of two weekends in January.

The musical progress did not reflect on everyone involved, however. One consequence of Stephen's guitar virtuosity and pre-band musical development was that his mind had already decided the sort of music that he was better suited to, and he wasn't able to reconfigure his preferences or approach to perform the increasingly darker figures that Jonathan felt suited the songs. This, in tandem with non-band related personal stress and the constant antagonism that had formed between him and Reyder, led him to quit the band after a gig riddled with failing instruments and bad sound on October 10th, 2005.

Initially it was considered that Reyder would switch to guitar and that a new bassist would be sought out, but this was quickly dashed in favour of searching for guitarists. A day after, Maxim Shelkov, ironically a co-worker of Stephen's, was interested in the job. Initially impressed by each other, it quickly became apparent that the material was not being grasped, and he quickly resigned. Another co-worker of Stephen's was approached afterward, but his horrible attitude quickly deterred Jonathan and Matthew.

It was, however, at dinner at a cousin's house at the end of November that a phone call came in response to an ad the band had put in Now Magazine. A guitarist named Eddy Luna was interested in joining the band, and with nobody else in sight, the band agreed to meet him. The band was still performing live without a guitarist, and as such, Eddy had an opportunity to see the musicians he was interested in working with onstage. The band met with him after the show and were taken both by his personality and his generousity with the seemingly bottomless bottles of Johnnie Walker Red that he carried on his person at all times. Eddy wasn't immediately inducted into the band, but he would perform with them at their upcoming show at the prestigious Opera House... 

Part VI: 2006

The Opera House show came and went quickly, and though Jonathan was still skeptical of Eddy's playing, there was great pressure to allow Eddy into the group. This never came to pass, however, as after the show, Eddy revealed to the rest of the band that he was in the country illegally and was ordered deported by the government immediately. The band, still unable to find a guitarist in their own age group, eventually decided that stagnation was no option, and enlisted Toronto session guitarist Philip Bennett to rehearse with them so that the music could be more accurately represented live until the right guitarist was found.

Owing to both the high standards of the music and the lack of young musicians able to do it justice or commit to such a time-consuming project (the band was still giving up their Saturday nights to rehearse), this was not to be an overly short period if time. The band had travelled as far as Sarnia to do shows in this time, and realizing that performing and rehearsing to such an extent without a viable future bandmate was causing more effort than it was worth. As well, Phil, more used to working with more experienced and polished acts than one still growing and improving, wasn't used to being part of such a young project and it was amicably decided that the band would abstain from live performance until they had a proper guitarist.

Guitarist auditions were plentiful during this time. A memorable one involved a guitarist showing up without his guitar to say that he wasn't interested; another showed up and demonstrated incredible skill, then was unable to play the same note a few times in a row. The band was always generous with callbacks and gave whoever they saw potential in a chance, but as with most young people, commitment was weak, attention spans were low, and a few people just didn't get it. One person who did get it - in spades - was Toronto resident Michael Kolk.

Part VII: Transitions

The seemingly endless auditions for a guitarist ended the night Trapdoor met Michael Kolk. He was offered the position on the strength of his sight-read of an extended song. Kolk was reluctant to join on the basis of his commitment to another group and the pay he would lose by eschewing teaching guitar in exchange for learning material and showing up to rehearse three nights a week. As such, the band began the uneasy practice of paying Kolk for his time. Though the music was getting closer to what Brodsky heard in his head, this factor, combined with Kolk's unfamiliarity with not being a primary contributor to musical output, as well as his growing discomfort at what was becoming a tense atmosphere due to near daily conflicts between Brodsky and Reyder, made Kolk leave the band after six months. The band got some of their money back, but lost time was irreplacable, and with impending studio time booked mere weeks ahead, it seemed that all was doomed to fail.

Enter Ryan Switzer. Ryan caught the band live at their last gig with Kolk and was so impressed by the music that he gave their good friend George Elmes his mp3 player to give to the band to hear samples of his playing. The chemistry really took off the afternoon that Brodsky and Switzer met, the two bonding over very dark humour and a similar lack of capacity for insincerity and time wasting. Ryan began rehearsing with the band and was ready to lay down guitar tracks when another line-up change that had been brewing for a while came to a head; on May 23rd, 2007, a menial argument over the placement of an F# irrationally turned from a simple request into a verbal onslaught in front of the engineers and a physical one away from them. It was very apparent that the band could not continue in its current state and Michael was let go that evening. He offered to finish tracking his parts, but the optimistic energy foraged the first few days of recording ruined, the band opted to abort the sessions in their infancy and planned to resume them at a more stable time. Ryan shortly moved to bass guitar duties after that, his solid and precise style of playing fitting this role more appropriately than the more emotive approach which suits the band's music.

Again without a guitarist, Brodsky thought to contact Morayniss again, at least to extend a greeting out of nostalgia and curiousity. However, it became apparent through talking that a lot of the tension that caused Stephen to leave was a product of factors which were no longer relevant, and shortly thereafter, he joined again. This was unfortunately to be for a much shorter time, as it was quickly realized that the goals of Steve and the rest of the band were now very different. Stephen had a stable job that he enjoyed and was more than satisfied just playing live a few times a month in open-mic settings, and the music had changed to the point that while he enjoyed it, he could not relate to it as a musician. As such, this ideal reunion was short lived. More guitarists came and went, all wonderful people who for whatever reason who possessed amazing musical talent that unfortunately did not translate over to the band's music. Little did they know, but a name that the band had heard mentioned numerous times in passing -touted by a friend who worked at a local music store as a very talented but very young guitarist - would soon become more relevant than just a name...

Part VIII: Robert

Robert Di Bartolomeo's name was first heard by the band all the way back in 2005 when, looking for a replacment for Stephen, local drum teacher John Di Ciommo suggested 'this really talented kid. The only issue is that he's 12.' The band passed without thinking. In 2006, while still looking for a guitarist, Di Ciommo said he knew 'this really talented kid. The only issue is that he's 13'. It took until the band were in between guitarists again in 2007 for Drewnowsky to -by chance picking up drum heads at a local music shop - encounter 14-year-old Robert firsthand.

Robert was trying out a guitar and, in the process, found himself surrounded by onlookers. Matt broke though the crowd and - getting his attention - simply told him: 'you're coming to band practice tonight.' He came, and Jonathan, expecting another little kid with a good heart but limited experience, was, alongside the other members, in awe of not only the kid's precision, but that he had learned one of their songs by listening to a low-bitrate mp3 of it. The details were understandably imperfect, but the perfomance was so strong that it warranted a second audition, wherein Robert was supposed to learn another song in full. He came prepared with two and was quickly welcomed into the band.

Yet as soon as Robert joined, it was apparent that other priorities in Ryan's life were taking precedence. Recently married (as he was several years the other boys' senior), promoted at work, and hoping to start a family someday in the not-so-distant future, it was with a heavy heart that he was let go. Endless bassist ads were placed downtown, online, with very little yield. It seemed that anybody great was in a band and anyone else wasn't looking for one. Some old friends tried to come and fit the bill but weren't suited for bass, and it got to the point that weeks were going by between auditions. Again, with recording dates looming ahead and session players showing up and then falling off the face of the Earth, things were looking grim. Then Jonathan had an idea, one that was soon to pay off...

Part XI: Dakoda

Back in May 2007, Trapdoor posted the first of what would be many ads looking for a bassist. 17 year old Dakoda Sannen was the first to reply, and instead of showing up to audition, he sent a rather poor recording of him playing with a rather poor ensemble. As a result, he was written off, but Jonathan and him hit it off very well in their initial discussion and became fast friends.

Fast forward to March 2008. Dakoda had by this point become a very large fan of the band and was struggling to find other musicians to form a band with in Scarborough. When asked for a quote, Dakoda offered that the scene there was "assfuckingly bad. It came to a point that the searches were so fruitless [that] I considered putting the bass down altogether. I [was considering studying] to be a paramedic 'cause I had put the bass down for a while and didn't practice at all." However, Dakoda was soon to prove that an ensemble is only as strong as its weakest member, and that he was by far not the weakest on the tape that he had given Jonathan. 

One weekend, Jonathan had Dakoda come to his house just to hang out and eventually both found themselves in the band's rehearsal space. Jonathan asked if there was any song Dakoda wanted to play and soon they found themselves going through one of the more complicated numbers. It wasn't perfect, and they had to stop about six minutes in, but Jonathan was so impressed that he gave Dakoda the formal music to work from and invited him back the week after to audition. On March 29th, 2008 - five years since the group began - Dakoda successfully auditioned and became a part of the band that he loved so much from afar. After what seemed to be an eternity, Trapdoor finally became a stable band that was able to both enjoy what they do and take it seriously. No tension lingered in the atmosphere from previous members, and only positive feelings would be felt in rehearsal from now on.

No matter how much of an asshole Jonathan can be at times.

THE END