Fever Sheds

Formed on the shores of Kingston, Ontario and inspired by tales of seafaring dreamers and dashed hopes, Fever Sheds make music to drink, dance, revel and rage to. Original members Brian “Shoeless” Ho (guitars, broken Casio), Chris Burt (guitars, vocals) and JR McConvey (drums, guitars, vocals) relocated to Toronto in 2002, where bassist a song from the ’60s and noisemaker Robert MacKenzie “King” joined the crew. Fever Sheds’ music mixes the energy of punk, the majesty of metal, the volume of post-rock, the eclecticism of cut-up and IDM, the soul of gospel and the melodic sensibility of pop into a striking, sweat-soaked, old-timey-punk-rock-disco-lounge-session brew. Think Talking Heads meet Mogwai at a Cabaret Voltaire show hosted by Fela Kuti.

We aim to make you move, think, act and create. And we know about the 40 bucks you owe us, buddy.

The winds were at full-gale strength that day, producing waves that threatened even the most sea-worthy vessel. A steady downpour that alternated between hard rain and nickel-sized hail left the five friends soaked to the bone as they reached Kingston’s main pier. But, the five Chris Burt, J.R. McConvey, Shoeless Ho, Tony and Rob MacKenzie, King barely noticed the cold. They had spent the afternoon at the Portsmouth drinking cheap rum to mark what they expected to be their last night together. Their tall and enigmatic friend MacKenzie, King, was setting sail that night for New Zealand in search of sounds, then back to Toronto, with he hoped a chest full of spoils.

As they stood on the edge of the pier they drunkenly belted out a song from their youth, as MacKenzie, King boarded his ship bound for the other side of the globe. No sooner had King disappeared below deck that Shoeless Ho began wandering up the ramp of what seemed to be an empty ship.

“Booze,” the usually tight-lipped Ho exclaimed flatly.The other three unquestioningly rushed onboard and cracked open the precious booty.

When they awoke the next morning they were below deck, crammed tightly into a corner and surrounded by hundreds of poor and wretched souls. After a few confused minutes, the four realized the ship they had drunkenly stumbled upon the night before was one of the countless vessels stuffed with hopeful immigrants that left weekly for the New World, far downstream. Chris Burt ventured above deck, only to return quickly, reporting to his friends that they had already set sail for Toronto. The New World would soon be their home and Kingston a distant memory.

The quartet stayed close during the next couple of days of voyage. The fever had begun to rip violently through the ship’s hold of immigrants, and they hoped foolishly to avoid its deadly grasp. Tony was the only one of the four who explored the ship, and liked to do so quietly in the dead of night, when the only noise in the hold was the coughing and wheezing of the fevered.

“Where’s Tony?” J.R. McConvey asked on the morn of the fourth and final day of their voyage. They went above deck to look for Tony and were met by one of the ship’s deck hands.

“Waters were rough last night. I saw your friend standing at the bow of the ship during the thick of it nothing seemed to faze him. A huge wave then crashed over the deck and when I looked up to the bow again he was gone.”

Toronto’s port was visible now, and the three began to sing a song from the 60s as a lament for their fallen friend. As they began to file off the ship, the three made a pact to form a band to keep alive the memory of the original Kingston quintet of mates. They agreed to adopt A Song From the 60s as their bassist and to search out MacKenzie, King when he returned from New Zealand.

But just as their spirits had started to rise again, brimming with all the hope of the New World, they saw that all the ship’s feverish passengers were being herded into make-shift sheds, where they would either sweat out their sickness or die. There was nothing they could do. They slinked into the sheds, lamenting their dashed hopes, all the while singing mournfully as their temperatures continued to climb.

Fever Sheds came together out of a mutual love for punk, post-rock, folk, and indie music. We are often compared to Pavement, Missions of Burma, and Incubus, but prefer A Silver Mt. Zion, Les Savy Fav and the Microphones.