Vancouver’s Benedict and the Insomniacs seek expression in the notorious Top-40 town

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED ON JAN. 6, 1984

By Steve Newton

“It’s because I’m up all night,” says singer/songwriter/guitarist Benedict Patrick of the name Insomniacs.

“I’m usually right here at the piano,” he adds, glancing at the turn-of-the-century Hansen in the corner of his East Van living room, “and I’ll  just keep going till six in the morning.

“And the other thing it refers to is energy on stage–meaning don’t go to sleep on the job.”

Patrick, along with bassist Jim Ryan, drummer Ron Stelting, and keyboardist Mark Gajb–who are also insomniacs, although not as much (they go to bed around four or five)–couldn’t be accused of nodding off on duty when they played the Waterfront’s Wet Coast Music Festival last month. Their performance at the recently-dubbed “Rohan’s East” revealed a tight band with strong original compositions–ones that reflect a variety of musical moods, and personality to burn.

The nucleus of the band was formed three years ago when Patrick and Ryan came together. The two then set out to find just the right drummer for the sound they had in mind.

“We auditioned at least a hundred drummers,” claims Patrick, “and that’s without exaggeration. Because we’re covering a little bit of musical territory and we needed someone who could cover rock as well as reggae and other forms.”

The two found who they were looking for in Stelting, and a year ago were joined by Edmonton keyboardist Gajb, who had played in the Victory Group, a recording band from Alberta.

A fiery and exuberant player, Patrick owns several guitars–including an Ovation that used to belong to Chilliwack‘s Bill Henderson. And he is currently taking private lessons from guitar teacher Jim Grant of the Vancouver band Foxfire.

But as it turns out, Benedicts’s real attraction to the instrument took a rather long time to surface.

“I started out as a drummer,” he says. “That was my main instrument for quite a few years. I was just leaving school, and the guitar player in our band either wouldn’t play or wouldn’t learn the kind of stuff I wanted to do–like Jimi Hendrix and all that. So it made me realize that after all these years of being a drummer–and figuring that’s all I was going to be and all I wanted to be–I had to learn a melodic instrument to get my songs across.”

So as well as guitar, Patrick has abilities as a pianist and drummer to help him find the melodies and beats to use in his original tunes, 30 of which he and the Insomniacs can perform on any given night. One of the rooms in his cozy Nanaimo Street abode sports a complete drum set–ready and waiting for impromptu jams. And in the corner of that room is a TEAC Portastudio, so that when the sounds are right they can be quickly captured.

Several of Benedict’s songs have already been put on tape in the form of a six-song demo recorded at Stepping Stone Studios by engineer Dale Penner. Those tapes are currently being shopped to record companies in Canada and the U.S., and one of the songs, “Hey Ma-Pa”, will also be on the Al Hyland/Waterfront Cabaret compilation album that should be available to Vancouverites within a few months. The group also plans on making a four-song EP at Blue Wave Studios this month, using the recording hours they won in the 1981 Outlaws Battle of the Bands.

“Hey Ma-Pa” is a “funk/reggae/rock” sort of tune, according to Patrick, and another song on the band’s demo, “It’s No Mystery (to Me)” is sort of “country/reggae”. Country/reggae? You mean like a cross between Willie Nelson and Peter Tosh? Benedict explains:

“There’s sort of a similarity between country and reggae to me, just in the rhythms and stuff. So it worked out that we did one verse reggae and the rest somehow got into a country kind of feel.”

But such wide-open terms as country and reggae can never give an adequate idea of what Benedict and the Insomniacs’ original material sounds like–you just have to hear it for yourself. Many of those who have have responded favourably.

“When people come up and talk about the tunes,” says Patrick, “it will always be an original tune they’re commenting on. They’ll say, ‘What’s that tune?’ They don’t know if it’s an original ’cause I don’t always say. A lot of times we just play it.

“And to me that’s the best response you can get–that they don’t know it’s original. They haven’t heard it on vinyl, they haven’t heard it on the radio. It’s the first time hearing it, and they’re talking about it!”

But aside from their gig at the Waterfront, and occasional appearances at Vancouver’s Tonite, Benedict and the Insomniacs have been almost absent from this city’s club scene, having to settle for the ‘B’ circuit that takes them to small towns across the province. It’s evident–to these ears anyway–that the band has more than enough talent to play the higher-paying ‘A’ rooms. So what’s holding them back?

“We could if we compromised a lot more,” says Benedict, “and I’m not against compromising so much; but it’s just that we don’t want to lose our focus and identity.

“You know, ” he adds, “it’s a notorious Top-40 town, and I think that lends itself to people being too comfortable. And also it lends itself to the Canadian inferiority complex. You’re just a human jukebox, doing things that have already been done. It makes it a lot tougher for the original bands, for sure. In England I think it would be the other way around.

“And I think it’s good to express yourself. You only live once, so be yourself as much as possible. And know what you’re trying to bring out.”

Talking to Benedict Patrick, you get the impression that he certainly knows. And what he seems to be bringing out are good vibes, both musically and lyrically. So what usually inspires him to write songs?

“Personal experience a lot,” he claims, “just everyday life. I try to write about anything that seems important to me, or things that move me somehow. Just trying to get people thinking a bit, and get them in touch with their own feelings.”

Patrick is a firm believer in the old adage music heals. His experience with an overconfident M.D. led to an interesting correlation between medical men and musicians.

“I was talking to a doctor one time, and he was very arrogant–one of those guys who try to make the patient feel inhibited. And I didn’t like what he was doing, but it gave me this idea that in some ways musicians are like doctors–there’s a lot of power there. We deal with people and their emotions. We make them laugh, make them dance, and sad songs might even make them cry.

“Musicians are some of the strongest people I now, and also some of the weakest, in some ways. They put up with a lot of stuff, and if they think of themselves that way–like a kind of doctor–I think it will help them through the lows.”

To read over 100 of my other interviews with local Vancouver musicians since 1983, go here.