In 1979 I was enrolled at the Ontario College of Art, in Toronto. I lived in Burlington, about an hour away, and commuted daily by GO Train. Another art college student, Brett Wickens, rode the train with me every day. Brett was in a band, and I’d sometimes go watch them rehearse in – I think – a real estate office after-hours, in Aldershot, on the western edge of Burlington. The office was the singer’s dad’s place of work, as I recall. The band was pretty good, and one day, on the train, Brett said to me, “We came up with a name for the band last night.”
I asked him what it was.
He replied, “The Spoons.” He wanted to know what I thought. Truth was, I didn’t think much of it. “It’s OK,” I said. “I guess.” A year or so later Brett left the band and went to England and I left art college. I never saw Brett after that and I forgot all about The Spoons. Then one day, while browsing through the bins at Star Records in Hamilton (one of the best little record shops that ever existed), the clerk played a song that was unlike anything I’d heard up until then. I went up to the front counter and asked him who the band was.
“The Spoons,” he said. “Their first album. The song is called Red Light.”
Seriously? It couldn’t be the same band I had known. But it was, and this record is still a great debut record. It came out in the middle of the so-called “new wave” movement, and it was a fresh sound that was interesting and new. Well, at the time. This record still sounds really good - although now somewhat dated - and I play it every once in a while.
The Spoons went on to have several hits – Nova Heart being their biggest – but this record still ranks up there as one of their best.
Decades later, my daughter – not even a sparkle in my eye when this LP was released – went to see them in concert in Toronto. She said she loved the music. This band, she opined, should have been bigger than they were.
She's right.
The band initially consisted of Gordon Deppe (lead vocals and guitar), Sandy Horne (vocals and bass), Brett Wickens (keyboards, synths), and Peter Shepherd (drums). Deppe, Horne, and Wickens attended Aldershot High School, and Deppe and Horne (the only constant members of the band) dated in high school. The band is said to have got their name as the members were eating alphabet soup at Wickens' home.
Early on they played the songs of their European influences (Genesis was one of them, as I recall) but audiences were less then impressed. In late 1979, Shepherd left the band and was replaced by Derrick Ross, with whom the band released the independent single After the Institution in 1980. Then Wickens left the band to release an electronica album as part of the duo Ceramic Hello, and later became a successful graphic designer who has designed album covers artists such as Peter Gabriel. He was replaced by keyboardist Rob Preuss, who was only 15 when he joined the band.
Stick Figure Neighbourhood was the band's first full-length album and was released in 198. It is notable for being one of the first new wave albums engineered by Daniel Lanois, who owned Hamilton's Grant Avenue Studios. The band soon toured throughout Ontario and Quebec and started to gain a following.
The following year the band released what many consider to be their breakthrough album, Arias & Symphonies, which contained the massive hit single Nova Heart. I still love listening to that song all these years later, especially the extended 12-inch mix that was released later when the song became a dance floor smash.
The year 1983 saw the release of Talkback, an album produced by Nile Rodgers, who had been approached to produce Culture Club, but after seeing them in concert was unimpressed. He was, however, impressed with the opening act - The Spoons - and decided to produce them instead. Talkback included the hit Old Emotions, but was not issued outside of Canada, much to the disappointment of the group.
In 1984 a double 12" containing Tell No Lies and Romantic Traffic - also produced by Rodgers - was released, which was followed in 1986 by Bridges Over Borders, released after The Spoons left Ready Records - which had been unable to secure international releases for their material - and signed with Anthem Records. Both Preuss and Ross would leave the band shortly after and were replaced by Scott MacDonald (keyboards) and Steve Kendry (drums).
The rest of the 1980s saw The Spoon's career peak and then plateau. They would take a break for much of the 1990s, although Deppe and Horne came together for several Spoons reunion gigs during that time and also into the next decade.
In 2007, they released Unexpected Guest at a Cancelled Party, a collection of previously unreleased material recorded between 1982 and 1985 by the Deppe, Horne, Preuss, Ross line-up.
Static in Transmission was recorded and released in 2010, and in 2020 Scott MacDonald returned to the band on keyboards. They were said to be planning a 40th anniversary tour throughout Canada, but due to Coronavirus …
In 1979 I was enrolled at the Ontario College of Art, in Toronto. I lived in Burlington, about an hour away, and commuted daily by GO Train. Another art college student, Brett Wickens, rode the train with me every day. Brett was in a band, and I’d sometimes go watch them rehearse in – I think – a real estate office after-hours, in Aldershot, on the western edge of Burlington. The office was the singer’s dad’s place of work, as I recall. The band was pretty good, and one day, on the train, Brett said to me, “We came up with a name for the band last night.”
I asked him what it was.
He replied, “The Spoons.” He wanted to know what I thought. Truth was, I didn’t think much of it. “It’s OK,” I said. “I guess.” A year or so later Brett left the band and went to England and I left art college. I never saw Brett after that and I forgot all about The Spoons. Then one day, while browsing through the bins at Star Records in Hamilton (one of the best little record shops that ever existed), the clerk played a song that was unlike anything I’d heard up until then. I went up to the front counter and asked him who the band was.
“The Spoons,” he said. “Their first album. The song is called Red Light.”
Seriously? It couldn’t be the same band I had known. But it was, and this record is still a great debut record. It came out in the middle of the so-called “new wave” movement, and it was a fresh sound that was interesting and new. Well, at the time. This record still sounds really good - although now somewhat dated - and I play it every once in a while.
The Spoons went on to have several hits – Nova Heart being their biggest – but this record still ranks up there as one of their best.
Decades later, my daughter – not even a sparkle in my eye when this LP was released – went to see them in concert in Toronto. She said she loved the music. This band, she opined, should have been bigger than they were.
She's right.
The band initially consisted of Gordon Deppe (lead vocals and guitar), Sandy Horne (vocals and bass), Brett Wickens (keyboards, synths), and Peter Shepherd (drums). Deppe, Horne, and Wickens attended Aldershot High School, and Deppe and Horne (the only constant members of the band) dated in high school. The band is said to have got their name as the members were eating alphabet soup at Wickens' home.
Early on they played the songs of their European influences (Genesis was one of them, as I recall) but audiences were less then impressed. In late 1979, Shepherd left the band and was replaced by Derrick Ross, with whom the band released the independent single After the Institution in 1980. Then Wickens left the band to release an electronica album as part of the duo Ceramic Hello, and later became a successful graphic designer who has designed album covers artists such as Peter Gabriel. He was replaced by keyboardist Rob Preuss, who was only 15 when he joined the band.
Stick Figure Neighbourhood was the band's first full-length album and was released in 198. It is notable for being one of the first new wave albums engineered by Daniel Lanois, who owned Hamilton's Grant Avenue Studios. The band soon toured throughout Ontario and Quebec and started to gain a following.
The following year the band released what many consider to be their breakthrough album, Arias & Symphonies, which contained the massive hit single Nova Heart. I still love listening to that song all these years later, especially the extended 12-inch mix that was released later when the song became a dance floor smash.
The year 1983 saw the release of Talkback, an album produced by Nile Rodgers, who had been approached to produce Culture Club, but after seeing them in concert was unimpressed. He was, however, impressed with the opening act - The Spoons - and decided to produce them instead. Talkback included the hit Old Emotions, but was not issued outside of Canada, much to the disappointment of the group.
In 1984 a double 12" containing Tell No Lies and Romantic Traffic - also produced by Rodgers - was released, which was followed in 1986 by Bridges Over Borders, released after The Spoons left Ready Records - which had been unable to secure international releases for their material - and signed with Anthem Records. Both Preuss and Ross would leave the band shortly after and were replaced by Scott MacDonald (keyboards) and Steve Kendry (drums).
The rest of the 1980s saw The Spoon's career peak and then plateau. They would take a break for much of the 1990s, although Deppe and Horne came together for several Spoons reunion gigs during that time and also into the next decade.
In 2007, they released Unexpected Guest at a Cancelled Party, a collection of previously unreleased material recorded between 1982 and 1985 by the Deppe, Horne, Preuss, Ross line-up.
Static in Transmission was recorded and released in 2010, and in 2020 Scott MacDonald returned to the band on keyboards. They were said to be planning a 40th anniversary tour throughout Canada, but due to Coronavirus …
BONUS TRACK
FROM THE WORDS & MUSIC WEBSITE
Canadian Classics: Nova Heart (1982).
Story by Liisa Ladouceur
November 29, 2010
They were just kids from the ’burbs, but Burlington, Ont., outfit The Spoons found themselves at the centre of Canada’s burgeoning new-wave scene in the early ’80s. There would be a string of club and radio hits (Romantic Traffic, Tell No Lies, etc.), a high-profile ad campaign with the Thrifty’s clothing chain and shows with Culture Club and The Police. But it all started with a synth-pop song called Nova Heart, from the 1982 album Arias and Symphonies. On the eve of celebrating the band’s 30th anniversary, vocalist/guitarist Gord Deppe talks about bringing back those old emotions.
What is the origin of the phrase “nova heart”?
Well, a nova is an exploding star, an all-encompassing phenomenon. The song was written way at the beginning, when we were still pretty young. In university, I was reading science fiction, and was into this book by Arthur C. Clark called Childhood’s End. If people want to hear it as a simple love song, I don’t want to take that away from them, but it was about an idea in that book - that no matter what happens, we’ll be all right.
How did a guitar player end up writing a song that’s all about the keyboards?
I actually wrote the song on a keyboard. And I’m no keyboard player! But when you write on guitar all the time, your hands go to the same place, and I wanted something different. I had just seen OMD at a little club in Hamilton, Ont., and I was so inspired. I borrowed a lousy old String Machine, with fake orchestra sounds and not even enough room to move your hands on it. That was fine for me, I was just klonking around. Our keyboard player, Rob, said he could never have written it, it was too simple. That melody only has three notes.
How important was it to you that people could dance to this?
That was (producer) John Punter’s doing. He introduced us to the 808 drum machine, this little box that helped create the rhythm patterns, like those handclaps. There was no real formula for what works in the dance clubs in those days, but he knew what would be best. The song was originally just supposed to be a B-side to the track “Symmetry,” but half-way through recording, when the drums and the synths came together, we knew we had something.
Were you surprised by the success?
I never thought it would do anything, no. We just wanted to make it onto the chart at CKOC in Hamilton! That was a big deal. Then I remember seeing it on the CHUM chart, right next to Led Zeppelin and Queen. I think it hit No. 4. KROQ in L.A. had it on its Top 10 for the year. I was really surprised that it did what it did.
You still play the song live today. Considering how a lot of ’80s synth pop sounds dated, how do you think it holds up
In the 1990s, we got rid of the drum machines and did pop/rock interpretations, with more guitar. But we’re appreciating the synths again. We realize that the drum machine sounds are key to it, and people can be disappointed when they don’t get what they expected, what they remember. They want the handclaps.
What do you think is this song’s legacy?
It really caught us when we were innocent, at our most creative and vibrant. We may have written better songs, technically, or improved on our instruments, but you can’t capture that youth again. I like knowing that, in our small way, we were a part of a musical shift. People remember us, if not the cause of it, as a part of it.
FROM THE WORDS & MUSIC WEBSITE
Canadian Classics: Nova Heart (1982).
Story by Liisa Ladouceur
November 29, 2010
They were just kids from the ’burbs, but Burlington, Ont., outfit The Spoons found themselves at the centre of Canada’s burgeoning new-wave scene in the early ’80s. There would be a string of club and radio hits (Romantic Traffic, Tell No Lies, etc.), a high-profile ad campaign with the Thrifty’s clothing chain and shows with Culture Club and The Police. But it all started with a synth-pop song called Nova Heart, from the 1982 album Arias and Symphonies. On the eve of celebrating the band’s 30th anniversary, vocalist/guitarist Gord Deppe talks about bringing back those old emotions.
What is the origin of the phrase “nova heart”?
Well, a nova is an exploding star, an all-encompassing phenomenon. The song was written way at the beginning, when we were still pretty young. In university, I was reading science fiction, and was into this book by Arthur C. Clark called Childhood’s End. If people want to hear it as a simple love song, I don’t want to take that away from them, but it was about an idea in that book - that no matter what happens, we’ll be all right.
How did a guitar player end up writing a song that’s all about the keyboards?
I actually wrote the song on a keyboard. And I’m no keyboard player! But when you write on guitar all the time, your hands go to the same place, and I wanted something different. I had just seen OMD at a little club in Hamilton, Ont., and I was so inspired. I borrowed a lousy old String Machine, with fake orchestra sounds and not even enough room to move your hands on it. That was fine for me, I was just klonking around. Our keyboard player, Rob, said he could never have written it, it was too simple. That melody only has three notes.
How important was it to you that people could dance to this?
That was (producer) John Punter’s doing. He introduced us to the 808 drum machine, this little box that helped create the rhythm patterns, like those handclaps. There was no real formula for what works in the dance clubs in those days, but he knew what would be best. The song was originally just supposed to be a B-side to the track “Symmetry,” but half-way through recording, when the drums and the synths came together, we knew we had something.
Were you surprised by the success?
I never thought it would do anything, no. We just wanted to make it onto the chart at CKOC in Hamilton! That was a big deal. Then I remember seeing it on the CHUM chart, right next to Led Zeppelin and Queen. I think it hit No. 4. KROQ in L.A. had it on its Top 10 for the year. I was really surprised that it did what it did.
You still play the song live today. Considering how a lot of ’80s synth pop sounds dated, how do you think it holds up
In the 1990s, we got rid of the drum machines and did pop/rock interpretations, with more guitar. But we’re appreciating the synths again. We realize that the drum machine sounds are key to it, and people can be disappointed when they don’t get what they expected, what they remember. They want the handclaps.
What do you think is this song’s legacy?
It really caught us when we were innocent, at our most creative and vibrant. We may have written better songs, technically, or improved on our instruments, but you can’t capture that youth again. I like knowing that, in our small way, we were a part of a musical shift. People remember us, if not the cause of it, as a part of it.
