Veneer (WPG) is the vulnerable pop project of friends Talula Schlegel (guitar, saxophone, vocals), Sam Sarty (bass, casio, trombone, vocals), and Claire Bones (drums, vocals).


Photo by Chelsea Neufeld

Talula and Sam have been playing, making, and performing music together over the last decade – even posting covers on YouTube that they filmed in their neighbourhood bushes. When they met Claire, their friendship and musical partnership became a triad, and in the summer of 2017, Veneer was formed.

I can attest that their love, caring, and reciprocating friendship translates into their live performance. In bearing witness to their set, you are offered a window into the ways they support and prop each other up to experiment, play, and explore: a truly magical experience.

Since their formation, they have been busy gaining attention and winning over the hearts of anyone who has a chance to see and hear them. In the last year, their first single, Unsure, was premiered by Stylus Magazine, they toured Western Canada, and did a live set at CJSW in Calgary.

Today, I am honoured to present Veneer’s first music video for Don’t Get My Hair Wet created by Allegra Chiarella (director) and Jesse de Rocquigny (cinematography).

The video perfectly compliments the audio as both starting points are tender, slow, and unassuming. When it builds musically in volume and intensity, it builds visually through the use of choreography, colour, and sparkle.

Don’t Get My Hair Wet is about consent – a topic that Veneer takes seriously, but doesn’t hold to one rigid standard:

“we wanted to write a song that reinforced the necessity of consent being taken seriously in any way it’s presented and which challenges and eliminates any notion of how consent is “supposed to be” delivered”.

Their intent through this song, and video, is to breach the topic of consent in a way that is accessible and to acknowledge that consent isn’t always given explicitly or sternly – however you assert your boundaries is valid and should be respected.

The opening of the song is reflexive and serious as you can see in their outfits, their expressions, and their actions, but playfulness quickly starts to build. They consistently introduce more colour and choreography until the canon (“even if you wanted to / please don’t get my hair wet”) which leads you to a staircase where they, now sparkly, are urgently climbing to get to a rooftop in downtown Winnipeg.

On this rooftop, they are dancing completely free and safe in their own bodies. When the song drops, you are left with their shadows playing against the building behind them – a closing as tender as its opening.

Veneer is a band worth watching – they might even be releasing their first EP in early 2019 😉

Contribution by: Nikki A Basset