I try not to have guilty pleasures. If I enjoy something, I rarely feel
guilty about it. But I suppose, if I had to try to embarass myself, I
really do enjoy "This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race" by Fall Out Boy.
I know, conceptually, that Fall Out Boy is not a band that I should
like. But that song is a lot of fun, despite some unfortunate lyrical
issues for radio play. It's surprisingly smartly-written and catchy, okay?
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Sunday, October 09, 2011
Friday, October 07, 2011
Day 11 - A Song From My Favourite Band
My favourite band, even more than The Beatles (which is just a hair’s
breadth away at number two), is NoMeansNo, a fantastic Canadian punk
rock band with jazz and funk influences. I don’t know what the best song
would be that would best represent them to other people, but “Now” is a
pretty good choice. It’s got a lot of the loud angry energy that they
portray so well, as well as some really creative musical choices that
you wouldn’t expect from a punk rock band but come so naturally to
NoMeansNo. I love it.
Thursday, October 06, 2011
Day 10 - A Song I Fall Asleep To
I haven't fallen asleep listening to music in a really long time. It's mostly been Old Time Radio shows, standup comedy, or Bob Ross for the past few years. But if I had to I think one song that might be fairly nice to fall asleep to would be "Blue in Green" by Miles Davis. It's a soft little ballad and while Miles' trumpet can be a little loud to drift off to, Bill Evans' piano work is really beautiful and soothing, a lovely cloud to sink into. I don't really know, but you can judge for yourself. Whether you could fall asleep to it or not, it's a beautiful song.
Wednesday, October 05, 2011
What's Up Wednesday - October 5, 2011
So did you know that since the reign of Queen Victoria, the last Wednesday in September has been given the name "Second Tuesday"? That's because it's not true. I missed a week. Oh well! Let's see what I found interesting in the past two weeks.
* * * *
Music
I love The Muppets and am a big fan of off-beat covers, so when I saw The Green Album I knew I would eventually have to give it a spin. It starts off really promising: OK Go!'s cover of "The Muppet Show Theme" is weird and groovy, although it goes on a little too long. Things pick up with Weezer & Hayley Williams's cover of The Rainbow Connection, which gives us a harp doing the traditional banjo riff and a beautiful two-part harmony for the last verse. The Fray's "Manah-Manah" sounds nearly the same as the TV version, which is okay but nothing special. And then there's the Alkaline Trio's version of "Movin' Right Along" which could be my favourite song on the album: it's a fusion of the band's sound with the spirit of the original, where the band plays with it just enough to make it interesting without completely destroying the song. My Morning Jacket's version of "Our World," a song I've never heard before, is a nice little song that would be easily performed by both Muppets and rock stars.
And then...things start going downhill. Amy Lee does a creepy version of "Halfway Down The Stairs," which needs that kind of interpretation like Archie Andrews needs a goth-style makeover. Another lowlight is a really awkward version of one of my favourite Muppet songs ever, "I Hope That Something Better Comes Along" - a human should not sing lyrics like "What could be better than a saucy Irish Setter" straightforwardly. An adequate version of "It's Not Easy Being Green" almost pulls us out of the nose-dive, but then the album closes with Rachael Yamagata's version of "I'm Going To Go Back There Someday" which seems weirdly-orchestrated just for the sake of being weird, and is truly unfortunately mixed (I don't need to hear the soft tisues of your mouth sliding against each other when you're singing). I like about half the album and the rest either underhwlmes me or makes me frustrated thinking about how much better it could have been.
* * * *
Comics
I have been curious about Matt Wagner's Grendel comics for a few years, so last week I got off my ass and took Grendel: Behold The Devil out of the library. If I had done my research I would have discovered that this was one of the last books in the series, but I decided to try it anyhow, figuring every comic is someone's first and that it might hook me hard enough to want to seek out the other comics. And boy, did it. In this volume Grendel is Hunter Rose, bestselling author by day and brutal crime kingpin by night. Behold The Devil is an examination of a "lost" episode in his life, and if this is anything like the earlier comics then I am in. Beautifully illustrated, perfectly paced, this tale of violence unfolds step by glorious step until the surprise (to me) ending. The violence is absolutely exq$uisite; the first five pages of Chapter One completely blew me away. I will be back for more, definitely, and will re-read this one with relish when I get back to its spot in publishing continuity.
* * * *
Movies
I saw Drive yesterday and it is GOOOOOOOD. It's not the big dumb action movie they're trying to sell it as, although sharp-eyed viewers would probably have figured that out by the use of pink font on the posters and trailers. It's a thoughtful, suspenseful action film, more along the lines of a Point Blank or To Live& Die In L.A. than a Fast & The Furious. I've heard a few people say the 70s & 80s homage is slap-dash and unsatisfying, but I really feel there's a lot to like. There are a number of very quiet moments, nearly TOO quiet, and there are a lot of very subtle performances that would have been completely extinguished in a lesser film. And when things go bad, they go really bad. Shocking, grotesque violence, with one scene that had me squirming in my seat. And the cast is great, too. Ryan Gosling's stoic performance may go a little too far towards stone-faced at times, but Carey Mulligan is note-perfect, Ron Perlman is fun and intimidating, Bryan Cranston is great as usual, and Albert Brooks is TERRIFYING as a crime boss. No seriously. I was shocked too. If you like film in general and action films in particular, then you need to make a trip to see Drive, and soon.
* * * *
Books
After months of struggling to read, I broke into Grant Morrison's Supergods for Nerd Book Club and it is a really fun and fast (but uneven) book. I enjoyed his (admittedly skewed) examination of the Golden and Silver ages of superhero comic books, with a little bit of examination of how these books represent spiritual archetypes that have been with us for centuries, but these analogies didn't really going anywhere other than "Did you notice that? I did, it's amazing." Which is okay, I guess, and I enjoy seeing someone else's perspective on these familiar characters. And then about halfway through, it became less about an exploration of the character archetypes & how they could inform us about human nature and became part-history, part-memoir. I understood why: Morrison felt he needs to explain his motivations for writing, which are based on his life experiences, including his metaphysical ones. And while that fits into the theme of the book, which I won't completely reveal because I think finding that theme is part of the journey,
I think the memoir aspects could have been toned down and the thematic aspects given more direction and follow-through. The book is in some pretty desperate need of an editor, as things get a little meandery about halfway through and almost spiral completely out of control towards the end. (There are also some pretty obvious typos and things being mentioned out of sequence.) For me, though, being familiar with Morrison's style, I find the lack of direction is a trap he sometimes finds himself in, and I was able to climb out of it with him and bring something worthwhile along with me. So I ended up liking it and will probably re-read it in the next couple of years, but I would be really interested in a non-fan's perspective on the book. I don't know if it would be easy to follow or impactful for someone who doesn't have strong connections to the characters or the writer like I do.
* * * *
DVDs/Blu-Rays
Two weekends ago I went to visit a friend and we had a marathon of all 25 episodes of the first season of Community Season 1. That marks the seventh time I've gone through the first season in under 12 months. Which probably sounds silly but it really is that good. I noticed jokes and references this seventh time that had completely passed me by the first time, which means that either a) I am not very observant or b) these are some amazingly great episodes. I would like to think that the answer is b). Regardless: if you haven't seen Community, you really should. It is one of only a handful of shows that represent the pinnacle of television comedy, and I have no doubt that it will be remembered very fondly in the coming decades.
* * * *
TV
This "week," I would like to take a moment to talk about...The Playboy Club. When I first heard that there was going to be a prime-time drama about The Playboy Club, I was dubious. I thought that it was just a lame way to grab ratings by cashing in on the Mad-Men-60s-style-chic and parading beautiful women around in Bunny costumes and their underwear. And I will admit: it was partly that. But honestly, only partly. By the end of the first episode I thought, despite myself, that there was something more there. They introduced a lot of characters, and involved a lot of interesting themes: politics, race relations, organized crime, sexual orientation, gender roles, and a handful of interesting mysteries. And there were musical numbers! And did I mention a half-dozen beautiful women? Sure, some of the characterizations were groaningly broad, and the "Hugh Hefner in the shadows" bits were pretty awful, but I thought there were things to grow on. I felt even more positive about the show after the second episode, where things felt a little rushed and some plots were given more time to breathe. And that meant, of course, that it would be cancelled. I just didn't think it would have been by episode three! I thought for sure I'd get a half-season out of it at least, where they could wrap at least a couple of plot threads up. Instead I got three episodes of what was a pretty promising show. I guess most viewers didn't see it the way I did, but I really think that The Playboy Club is up there with American Gothic as one of those promising shows cancelled way too early.
* * * *
Life
Last Monday my brother got me royally drunk, tied some training wheels on me, and set me up in his hockey draft. I apparently did okay, stealing some players out from under some of the other guys, and I walked away thinking I did okay. And then three days later he sent me a text saying I had drafted someone who had already retired. And nobody noticed. So I have a lot more to learn, I guess.
* * * *
And that's it. More song updates to follow, for sure, but now it's time for me to get on the exercise bike. Curse you, bike.
* * * *
Music
I love The Muppets and am a big fan of off-beat covers, so when I saw The Green Album I knew I would eventually have to give it a spin. It starts off really promising: OK Go!'s cover of "The Muppet Show Theme" is weird and groovy, although it goes on a little too long. Things pick up with Weezer & Hayley Williams's cover of The Rainbow Connection, which gives us a harp doing the traditional banjo riff and a beautiful two-part harmony for the last verse. The Fray's "Manah-Manah" sounds nearly the same as the TV version, which is okay but nothing special. And then there's the Alkaline Trio's version of "Movin' Right Along" which could be my favourite song on the album: it's a fusion of the band's sound with the spirit of the original, where the band plays with it just enough to make it interesting without completely destroying the song. My Morning Jacket's version of "Our World," a song I've never heard before, is a nice little song that would be easily performed by both Muppets and rock stars.
And then...things start going downhill. Amy Lee does a creepy version of "Halfway Down The Stairs," which needs that kind of interpretation like Archie Andrews needs a goth-style makeover. Another lowlight is a really awkward version of one of my favourite Muppet songs ever, "I Hope That Something Better Comes Along" - a human should not sing lyrics like "What could be better than a saucy Irish Setter" straightforwardly. An adequate version of "It's Not Easy Being Green" almost pulls us out of the nose-dive, but then the album closes with Rachael Yamagata's version of "I'm Going To Go Back There Someday" which seems weirdly-orchestrated just for the sake of being weird, and is truly unfortunately mixed (I don't need to hear the soft tisues of your mouth sliding against each other when you're singing). I like about half the album and the rest either underhwlmes me or makes me frustrated thinking about how much better it could have been.
* * * *
Comics
I have been curious about Matt Wagner's Grendel comics for a few years, so last week I got off my ass and took Grendel: Behold The Devil out of the library. If I had done my research I would have discovered that this was one of the last books in the series, but I decided to try it anyhow, figuring every comic is someone's first and that it might hook me hard enough to want to seek out the other comics. And boy, did it. In this volume Grendel is Hunter Rose, bestselling author by day and brutal crime kingpin by night. Behold The Devil is an examination of a "lost" episode in his life, and if this is anything like the earlier comics then I am in. Beautifully illustrated, perfectly paced, this tale of violence unfolds step by glorious step until the surprise (to me) ending. The violence is absolutely exq$uisite; the first five pages of Chapter One completely blew me away. I will be back for more, definitely, and will re-read this one with relish when I get back to its spot in publishing continuity.
* * * *
Movies
I saw Drive yesterday and it is GOOOOOOOD. It's not the big dumb action movie they're trying to sell it as, although sharp-eyed viewers would probably have figured that out by the use of pink font on the posters and trailers. It's a thoughtful, suspenseful action film, more along the lines of a Point Blank or To Live& Die In L.A. than a Fast & The Furious. I've heard a few people say the 70s & 80s homage is slap-dash and unsatisfying, but I really feel there's a lot to like. There are a number of very quiet moments, nearly TOO quiet, and there are a lot of very subtle performances that would have been completely extinguished in a lesser film. And when things go bad, they go really bad. Shocking, grotesque violence, with one scene that had me squirming in my seat. And the cast is great, too. Ryan Gosling's stoic performance may go a little too far towards stone-faced at times, but Carey Mulligan is note-perfect, Ron Perlman is fun and intimidating, Bryan Cranston is great as usual, and Albert Brooks is TERRIFYING as a crime boss. No seriously. I was shocked too. If you like film in general and action films in particular, then you need to make a trip to see Drive, and soon.
* * * *
Books
After months of struggling to read, I broke into Grant Morrison's Supergods for Nerd Book Club and it is a really fun and fast (but uneven) book. I enjoyed his (admittedly skewed) examination of the Golden and Silver ages of superhero comic books, with a little bit of examination of how these books represent spiritual archetypes that have been with us for centuries, but these analogies didn't really going anywhere other than "Did you notice that? I did, it's amazing." Which is okay, I guess, and I enjoy seeing someone else's perspective on these familiar characters. And then about halfway through, it became less about an exploration of the character archetypes & how they could inform us about human nature and became part-history, part-memoir. I understood why: Morrison felt he needs to explain his motivations for writing, which are based on his life experiences, including his metaphysical ones. And while that fits into the theme of the book, which I won't completely reveal because I think finding that theme is part of the journey,
I think the memoir aspects could have been toned down and the thematic aspects given more direction and follow-through. The book is in some pretty desperate need of an editor, as things get a little meandery about halfway through and almost spiral completely out of control towards the end. (There are also some pretty obvious typos and things being mentioned out of sequence.) For me, though, being familiar with Morrison's style, I find the lack of direction is a trap he sometimes finds himself in, and I was able to climb out of it with him and bring something worthwhile along with me. So I ended up liking it and will probably re-read it in the next couple of years, but I would be really interested in a non-fan's perspective on the book. I don't know if it would be easy to follow or impactful for someone who doesn't have strong connections to the characters or the writer like I do.
* * * *
DVDs/Blu-Rays
Two weekends ago I went to visit a friend and we had a marathon of all 25 episodes of the first season of Community Season 1. That marks the seventh time I've gone through the first season in under 12 months. Which probably sounds silly but it really is that good. I noticed jokes and references this seventh time that had completely passed me by the first time, which means that either a) I am not very observant or b) these are some amazingly great episodes. I would like to think that the answer is b). Regardless: if you haven't seen Community, you really should. It is one of only a handful of shows that represent the pinnacle of television comedy, and I have no doubt that it will be remembered very fondly in the coming decades.
* * * *
TV
This "week," I would like to take a moment to talk about...The Playboy Club. When I first heard that there was going to be a prime-time drama about The Playboy Club, I was dubious. I thought that it was just a lame way to grab ratings by cashing in on the Mad-Men-60s-style-chic and parading beautiful women around in Bunny costumes and their underwear. And I will admit: it was partly that. But honestly, only partly. By the end of the first episode I thought, despite myself, that there was something more there. They introduced a lot of characters, and involved a lot of interesting themes: politics, race relations, organized crime, sexual orientation, gender roles, and a handful of interesting mysteries. And there were musical numbers! And did I mention a half-dozen beautiful women? Sure, some of the characterizations were groaningly broad, and the "Hugh Hefner in the shadows" bits were pretty awful, but I thought there were things to grow on. I felt even more positive about the show after the second episode, where things felt a little rushed and some plots were given more time to breathe. And that meant, of course, that it would be cancelled. I just didn't think it would have been by episode three! I thought for sure I'd get a half-season out of it at least, where they could wrap at least a couple of plot threads up. Instead I got three episodes of what was a pretty promising show. I guess most viewers didn't see it the way I did, but I really think that The Playboy Club is up there with American Gothic as one of those promising shows cancelled way too early.
* * * *
Life
Last Monday my brother got me royally drunk, tied some training wheels on me, and set me up in his hockey draft. I apparently did okay, stealing some players out from under some of the other guys, and I walked away thinking I did okay. And then three days later he sent me a text saying I had drafted someone who had already retired. And nobody noticed. So I have a lot more to learn, I guess.
* * * *
And that's it. More song updates to follow, for sure, but now it's time for me to get on the exercise bike. Curse you, bike.
Day 9 - A Song I Can Dance To
I am putting this song on because it is a newly-discovered song and it is incredibly dance-able while also being funny, creative, and a surprisingly good pop song. That song is "(Rockin') All Nite Long" by the folks at Bad Lip Reading. They took a Taylor Swift song that I have never heard, watched the video, figured out other lyrics she could have been singing by watching her lips, and then wrote an entire new song about it. And then added a rap by doing the same thing to a Wiz Khalifa song. And the funny thing is? It's actually a really well-crafted pop song and you can dance to it to boot. So yeah. I was surprised too, but really, you have to check it out. (And then find Gang Fight on YouTube by the same folks.)
Here it is. Marvel at its majesty.
Here it is. Marvel at its majesty.
Tuesday, October 04, 2011
Day 08 - A Song You Know All The Words To
So, so many songs fit into this category. But I think that I will cheat and pick a song I sing in my a cappella group, Apocalypse Kow. And my favourite song to sing lead with them is "Uniform Grey" by Sarah Harmer. It's a sweet, beautiful little song that I think everyone should hear, and it makes me happy and sad at the same time.
Here's Sarah's (superior) version. You could find ours if you looked really hard.
Here's Sarah's (superior) version. You could find ours if you looked really hard.
Monday, October 03, 2011
Day 07 - A Song That Reminds You Of A Certain Event
Took me a second (again, all the stuff that immediately comes to mind is either negative or makes me more depressed) but R.E.M.'s "Begin The Begin" reminds me of the happiness EXPLOSION that poured out of my lungs and throat when I finally got to see my favourite rock band play live for the very first time. I was in Thunderbird Stadium in Vancouver with my then-future-ex-wife and when the opening guitar riff started the crowd and I roared as one, and I just felt the relief and joy flood out of me as I prepared myself for an amazing concert. I still remember that feeling when I hear the album version. (Don't know if it's cheating if the event is a rock concert or not but I'm going with it.)
Couldn't find video of the Thunderbird stadium show but here's the album version:
Couldn't find video of the Thunderbird stadium show but here's the album version:
Sunday, October 02, 2011
Day 06 - A Song That Reminds You of Somewhere
John Denver's "Rocky Mountain High" always reminds me of the highway
into Jasper just as you make it into the mountains. My parents loved
John Denver (and I did too when I was a kid) and my mom loved singing
along to that song on our road trips to the mountains during summer
vacation. Just thinking of the chorus invokes the giant snow-capped
peaks and the highway winding in between them.
Not much to say about this song: it's cheesy and not everyone's taste - it even grates on my nerves at times - but there are times that I find it almost transcendent. Weird how nostalgia and memory works like that.
Saturday, October 01, 2011
Day 5 - A Song That Reminds You of Someone
There are a lot of songs that could fall into this category. And after a while, I actually came up with a positive one! "Bring The Noise" by Public Enemy always reminds me of my good buddy @worstninjaever. Not just because it is our karaoke song (and we ROCK THE HELL out of that song live). But it's part of the reason we're friends, I think we really started becoming better friends when we found out we were both PE fans, and that happened when we both started singing that song at a party once. It was a big deal in my life. And also: we are AMAZING. I am the Chuck D to his "Flava Flav and dude from Anthrax."
While he prefers the Public Enemy w/ Anthrax version, I prefer the original (although I do like the guitars on the remake). A little slower delivery makes for a better song. I'm presenting this live version (starts at about 2:00 on this video) because he and I were actually both at this show. Me at the front of the stage, him sitting way at the back at a table. Because he's a gimp. And if you check REALLY closely, you can see me in the crowd. Just look for awesome sideburns.
While he prefers the Public Enemy w/ Anthrax version, I prefer the original (although I do like the guitars on the remake). A little slower delivery makes for a better song. I'm presenting this live version (starts at about 2:00 on this video) because he and I were actually both at this show. Me at the front of the stage, him sitting way at the back at a table. Because he's a gimp. And if you check REALLY closely, you can see me in the crowd. Just look for awesome sideburns.
Day 04 - A Song That Makes You Sad
“You Were Here” by Sarah Harmer. Nearly the entire album is about the end of relationships and every song is some variation of sad, but this one is hauntingly beautiful and makes me bittersweetly sad. Partly because it’s sad on it’s own and partly because it reminds me of the two breakups that define my life. So yeah. It’s a beautiful song and I love it, but it makes me very sad. Not “crying while driving the car and trying to hold it together so as not to crash” sad, the good kind.
Day 03 - A Song That Makes You Happy
Definitely one of the best songs that fits this criteria is "Move On Up" by Curtis Mayfield. That song is over eight solid minutes of happy.
The killer drum riff (boom-boom-CHACK-ba-boom-ba-boom-CHAK), with a
beautiful layer of guitar and a cool quasi-funk bass line. Hell, it has
both a horn section AND a string section! And
Curtis Mayfield’s smooth amazing voice singing those uplifting lyrics
(Hush now child/And don’t you cry/Your folks might understand you/Bye
and bye). Just thinking about the opening section (DRUMS! HORNS! GO!) makes me smile and sets my toes to tapping. A good antidote to a foul mood.
Here’s the full length song, a solid eight minutes and forty-nine seconds of funk soul goodness. There are radio edits out there you can search for, but for me this is the version.
Here’s the full length song, a solid eight minutes and forty-nine seconds of funk soul goodness. There are radio edits out there you can search for, but for me this is the version.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
30 Day Song Challenge - Day 02
Your Least Favourite Song
Not many songs can make the bile rise in my throat like “You Were Meant For Me” by Jewel. Insipid lyrics, inane delivery, inexplicably popular when I was in my youth and hearing it sets my teeth on edge. Even thinking about the lyrics hurts me. “I crack the eggs and make a smiley face…” I am literally shuddering with frustration as I type this.
(Also: my What's Up Wednesday will be delayed as I wrote a very long entry for it that promptly got erased. Because I am dumb. It'll be up tomorrow for sure.)
Not many songs can make the bile rise in my throat like “You Were Meant For Me” by Jewel. Insipid lyrics, inane delivery, inexplicably popular when I was in my youth and hearing it sets my teeth on edge. Even thinking about the lyrics hurts me. “I crack the eggs and make a smiley face…” I am literally shuddering with frustration as I type this.
(Also: my What's Up Wednesday will be delayed as I wrote a very long entry for it that promptly got erased. Because I am dumb. It'll be up tomorrow for sure.)
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
30 Day Song Challenge - Day 01
Decided to do something CRAZY and do a two-year-old internet meme to try to improve my writing ability and frequency. Look at me keeping up with the times.
Your Favourite Song
As a man with over 700 physical albums and even more downloads, "My Favourite Song" is really, REALLY goddamned hard to think of. A number of them come to mind right off the top of my head, all battling it out. However, I think at this very moment, the only one that is coming out as the king of the hill is "If I Had A Boat" by Lyle Lovett. When I first heard the chorus of this song, I groaned aloud at how stupid I thought it was. And then less than three minutes later when I heard it the last reprise of that same chorus, it gave me chills. It's a poignant, whimsical, slightly cheesy song about the desire to be free that breaks my heart and makes me choke up just thinking about it. Ask me tomorrow and it might be "Maggot Brain" by Funkadelic or "A Kiss To Build A Dream On" by Louis Armstrong or "Coffee Stain" by Sarah Harmer or "Swan Swan H" by R.E.M. or "The Graveyard Shift" by NoMeansNo or "Move On Up" by Curtis Mayfield or any number of other songs. But today it's "If I Had A Boat." And I have no problem with that.
(Here's a live performance of this song. The mix isn’t perfect - some of the instruments are a little loud - but it’s the best version of it I can find.)
Your Favourite Song
As a man with over 700 physical albums and even more downloads, "My Favourite Song" is really, REALLY goddamned hard to think of. A number of them come to mind right off the top of my head, all battling it out. However, I think at this very moment, the only one that is coming out as the king of the hill is "If I Had A Boat" by Lyle Lovett. When I first heard the chorus of this song, I groaned aloud at how stupid I thought it was. And then less than three minutes later when I heard it the last reprise of that same chorus, it gave me chills. It's a poignant, whimsical, slightly cheesy song about the desire to be free that breaks my heart and makes me choke up just thinking about it. Ask me tomorrow and it might be "Maggot Brain" by Funkadelic or "A Kiss To Build A Dream On" by Louis Armstrong or "Coffee Stain" by Sarah Harmer or "Swan Swan H" by R.E.M. or "The Graveyard Shift" by NoMeansNo or "Move On Up" by Curtis Mayfield or any number of other songs. But today it's "If I Had A Boat." And I have no problem with that.
(Here's a live performance of this song. The mix isn’t perfect - some of the instruments are a little loud - but it’s the best version of it I can find.)
Wednesday, June 08, 2011
Last Night A Mixtape Saved My Life
So you may be wondering to yourself, "I wonder what kind of music Devin likes to listen to when he's ignoring his blog?" Well, aside from Sloan, I mean. Wonder no further, friends. Because through the magic of the internet, I am going to make a mixtape...for YOU. (That's right, other people might listen to it. But that mixtape is yours alone, gentle reader.)
In the old days, back when cars had cassette decks and people knew who David Schwimmer was, I would make mixtapes all the time, because I was excited to share music with my friends. Mixtapes with collage covers made from my mom's old celebrity & decorating magazines and liner notes that were pages long. But as technology expanded the mixtape fell out of fashion, and I never really caught up to making mp3 playlists or anything like that. Until now!
I currently have 3 mixes on 8tracks, and I keep wanting to get inspiration for more. So I am seeking suggestions from YOU. The reading public. If you want to hear a sampling of my music library, have a suggestion for a theme mix, or just want to throw down a mixtape challenge, please leave me a comment telling me just what you're looking for and I will do my damnedest to put together a mix tailor-made just for you. If you're interested in the kind of thing I've come up with so far, you can play the mix below for a little sample. When I have enough I will probably put up an 8tracks "Mix of the Moment" in the left-hand side of the blog. (I am thinking about giving the entire site an overhaul, but I think actually getting up content would be a good idea first.)
So check out the site, leave me a message, and enjoy the music. I will talk to you...eventually.
In the old days, back when cars had cassette decks and people knew who David Schwimmer was, I would make mixtapes all the time, because I was excited to share music with my friends. Mixtapes with collage covers made from my mom's old celebrity & decorating magazines and liner notes that were pages long. But as technology expanded the mixtape fell out of fashion, and I never really caught up to making mp3 playlists or anything like that. Until now!
I currently have 3 mixes on 8tracks, and I keep wanting to get inspiration for more. So I am seeking suggestions from YOU. The reading public. If you want to hear a sampling of my music library, have a suggestion for a theme mix, or just want to throw down a mixtape challenge, please leave me a comment telling me just what you're looking for and I will do my damnedest to put together a mix tailor-made just for you. If you're interested in the kind of thing I've come up with so far, you can play the mix below for a little sample. When I have enough I will probably put up an 8tracks "Mix of the Moment" in the left-hand side of the blog. (I am thinking about giving the entire site an overhaul, but I think actually getting up content would be a good idea first.)
So check out the site, leave me a message, and enjoy the music. I will talk to you...eventually.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Albums That Changed My Life: Volume 1
I have a weird memory for pop culture , particularly music. I might not remember the first time I met some of my best friends, but I remember the first albums I ever bought with my own money. (For the record, they were Nirvana MTV Unplugged In New York and Crash Test Dummies’ The Ghosts That Haunt Me.) But very rarely do I remember the exact moment I found an album that I was looking for. In fact, I can only recall doing that once.
In Grade 11, I was a kid who was very unsure of himself. My friends were all very confident and outgoing, or at least, they appeared to be. If I only knew then what I know now, high school would have been far easier. But at the time they all seemed so much larger than life, and as a quietly terrified young man I hung on their every word. I thought that if I could somehow take on aspects of their personalities I would become more like them, and less afraid of everything.
So when my friend Craig told me about the new album by his favourite band, I went to find it at the HMV. I didn't know what it sounded like, I just knew that Craig liked it, and that was good enough for me. I remember nervously going to the Alternative section of the store (Hey, remember when record stores had "Alternative" sections? Remember when they were called record stores?), sure that some Cool-Dude-In-Charge was going to discover me, realize I didn't belong, and cast me out. But it didn't happen. I walked into the store and, if anything, I was ignored. Thank goodness for apathetic retail employees; I think if anyone had come up to me to see if I'd "needed a hand finding anything" I would have shut down. Hands trembling, I flipped the CDs down until I saw the cover. Four guys up against a black background, and hand-lettered above them in gold-yellow ink floated the name of the band and the album. Sloan -- Twice Removed.
Damn those handsome young devils...
I grabbed it and walked up to pay. I avoided making eye-contact with the greasy-haired facially-pierced guy behind the counter while I paid, then rushed quickly out of the store.
When I listened to it for the first time...well, I don't recall exactly what I thought of it. Chalk it up to my weird memory: I remember buying it in such vivid detail, but I don't remember actually listening to it . I know I liked it, although I don't know how much of it was due to the fact that my friends all liked it so I pretty much had to. I listened to it over and over again, memorizing the lyrics to every song probably within the first week. It became my favourite album. I made my little brothers listen to it, and they liked it, although I think my youngest brother's taste was still more to the pop radio. And in a slow, almost imperceptible way, that album changed my life. The almost-grunge-but-not-quite sound, the rough edges with a pop sensibility, completely won me over. Every song was my favourite at one point or another.
I felt like each of the band members had something to say to me that made me a very different person than I was before I'd heard Twice Removed. Their personas seemed to be perfectly encapsulated by the album photo. Jay Ferguson, stares straightforward and earnestly at the camera. With his deceptively simple and sweet songs, he reminded me of me only smarter. Andrew Scott, standing in the background and obscured by shadows, was the mysterious drummer with the "weird" songs. Patrick Pentland, looking downward with his hand covering part of his face, seemed shy and a little sad. His songs were alternately haunting and hopeful, and gave me my first taste of a punk-rock sensibility. But it was Chris Murphy who really struck a chord with me, head cocked to the side, staring straight ahead as if to say, "Go on. Show me something." And with his sarcastic and bittersweet lyrics about love, something I hadn't even begun to believe in at that time (and will never understand), combined with his love of wordplay, Chris was the guy I aspired to be.
It feels strange writing all this down. But I really think that I wouldn't have been the person I am today if it wasn't for Twice Removed. I think some of it was the harrowing trip to the HMV. In retrospect it seems ridiculous: a fourteen-year-old boy afraid to walk into probably the most non-threatening record store you could find. At the time, though, it was incredibly intimidating. But somehow, I survived my trip into the dragon's den and emerged victorious. A small, insignificant challenge, but one I had done completely by myself. I did something that my "cool" friends had done and learned that it wasn't nearly as terrifying as I'd made it out to be. That was a big step on my journey from timid, quiet teenager to loud, friendly, boistrous man.
It was more than that, though. It was the music. It spoke to me in a way I didn't understand, in a way I still don't understand. When I listen to really good music, I feel something pulling on my chest. Like an invisible cord stretching out of the speakers and tugging, gently but urgently. My chest expands and I feel connected to something else. Something bigger. And that's how I felt when I listened to Twice Removed: not for just one song, but for every song. I felt connected to the men who had made that music, and to the people who I just knew had to be listening to it at the same time. That one album made me feel less alone.
When their next album, One Chord To Another, came out, I was shocked, disappointed, and furious. It sounded clean! It looked more polished! It had horns! What the hell was going on? It felt like Sloan had abandoned me. And so I abandoned them, pretending that album didn't exist. My younger brother bought the album and played it all the time, but I took the fact that he liked One Chord as yet another sign that he was inferior to me. As far as I was concerned, Sloan ended with Twice Removed.
Until one summer afternoon. I had just finished up my third year of university, in my summer job as a house-painter. I was listening to the radio to pass the time as I finished up a wall just before lunch. It was another moment I remember with great clarity: I was covering a house's stucco exterior with blue paint, and even after soaking the walls with water they soaked up paint so much I had to do three coats. (And a few days later I almost fell off the roof because they wanted me to paint their stucco chimney blue as well. But that's another story.) A siren came on the radio, and then this driving base note repeated over and over, and then a crazy rock hook. A series of chords that hit me right in the gut. I said to myself, "Who the hell is this?" and stopped working for the length of that song, just listening transfixed. When it was over, the announcer told me who it was: Sloan. Of course. The song was "Money City Maniacs," and in that moment I realized what a fool I had been. And Sloan has been a part of my life ever since.
This year marks Sloan's 20th anniversary, and they're touring with a new album. I am, of course, going to their Edmonton show, which will mark the seventh time I have seen them in concert. To prepare myself, I have been listening to all their previous albums pretty-much non-stop in the car for the past week. And every time I slide the next disc into the CD player, I remember things about who I was when I was first discovering those albums.
The young man confronted by his high-school ex-girlfriend one lunch hour, telling him she felt guilty because she made out with his best friend, all because of a song from Smeared he'd put on her "I'm Glad We're Still Friends" mix-tape.
The grad student who was pushing twenty-seven and thought he had life all figured out when Never Hear The End Of It came out.
The smarmy, stuck-up man-child just about to graduate from high school who thought he was a misunderstood genius and could have used a reality check the first time he heard a song off One Chord To Another.
The recent University graduate who was just discovering what it felt like when you get your heart broken for the first time, all to the soundtrack of Pretty Together.
That summer I spent driving from my parents' acreage to my painting job in the city, listening to Navy Blues and realizing that I couldn't stay at home for much longer.
And it all goes back to the day that an unsure high school boy swallowed his fear and went into a place he knew was dangerously too cool and off-limits, to find the mystical item that he hoped would transform him into someone else. Someone better. For Arthur it was Excalibur; for me it was Twice Removed. I could have done a lot worse.
(Thanks to my TwitEditors @DorklordCanada, @MrBalls, @Xeryfyn, and @AmyRhoda!)
In Grade 11, I was a kid who was very unsure of himself. My friends were all very confident and outgoing, or at least, they appeared to be. If I only knew then what I know now, high school would have been far easier. But at the time they all seemed so much larger than life, and as a quietly terrified young man I hung on their every word. I thought that if I could somehow take on aspects of their personalities I would become more like them, and less afraid of everything.
So when my friend Craig told me about the new album by his favourite band, I went to find it at the HMV. I didn't know what it sounded like, I just knew that Craig liked it, and that was good enough for me. I remember nervously going to the Alternative section of the store (Hey, remember when record stores had "Alternative" sections? Remember when they were called record stores?), sure that some Cool-Dude-In-Charge was going to discover me, realize I didn't belong, and cast me out. But it didn't happen. I walked into the store and, if anything, I was ignored. Thank goodness for apathetic retail employees; I think if anyone had come up to me to see if I'd "needed a hand finding anything" I would have shut down. Hands trembling, I flipped the CDs down until I saw the cover. Four guys up against a black background, and hand-lettered above them in gold-yellow ink floated the name of the band and the album. Sloan -- Twice Removed.
Damn those handsome young devils...I grabbed it and walked up to pay. I avoided making eye-contact with the greasy-haired facially-pierced guy behind the counter while I paid, then rushed quickly out of the store.
When I listened to it for the first time...well, I don't recall exactly what I thought of it. Chalk it up to my weird memory: I remember buying it in such vivid detail, but I don't remember actually listening to it . I know I liked it, although I don't know how much of it was due to the fact that my friends all liked it so I pretty much had to. I listened to it over and over again, memorizing the lyrics to every song probably within the first week. It became my favourite album. I made my little brothers listen to it, and they liked it, although I think my youngest brother's taste was still more to the pop radio. And in a slow, almost imperceptible way, that album changed my life. The almost-grunge-but-not-quite sound, the rough edges with a pop sensibility, completely won me over. Every song was my favourite at one point or another.
I felt like each of the band members had something to say to me that made me a very different person than I was before I'd heard Twice Removed. Their personas seemed to be perfectly encapsulated by the album photo. Jay Ferguson, stares straightforward and earnestly at the camera. With his deceptively simple and sweet songs, he reminded me of me only smarter. Andrew Scott, standing in the background and obscured by shadows, was the mysterious drummer with the "weird" songs. Patrick Pentland, looking downward with his hand covering part of his face, seemed shy and a little sad. His songs were alternately haunting and hopeful, and gave me my first taste of a punk-rock sensibility. But it was Chris Murphy who really struck a chord with me, head cocked to the side, staring straight ahead as if to say, "Go on. Show me something." And with his sarcastic and bittersweet lyrics about love, something I hadn't even begun to believe in at that time (and will never understand), combined with his love of wordplay, Chris was the guy I aspired to be.
It feels strange writing all this down. But I really think that I wouldn't have been the person I am today if it wasn't for Twice Removed. I think some of it was the harrowing trip to the HMV. In retrospect it seems ridiculous: a fourteen-year-old boy afraid to walk into probably the most non-threatening record store you could find. At the time, though, it was incredibly intimidating. But somehow, I survived my trip into the dragon's den and emerged victorious. A small, insignificant challenge, but one I had done completely by myself. I did something that my "cool" friends had done and learned that it wasn't nearly as terrifying as I'd made it out to be. That was a big step on my journey from timid, quiet teenager to loud, friendly, boistrous man.
It was more than that, though. It was the music. It spoke to me in a way I didn't understand, in a way I still don't understand. When I listen to really good music, I feel something pulling on my chest. Like an invisible cord stretching out of the speakers and tugging, gently but urgently. My chest expands and I feel connected to something else. Something bigger. And that's how I felt when I listened to Twice Removed: not for just one song, but for every song. I felt connected to the men who had made that music, and to the people who I just knew had to be listening to it at the same time. That one album made me feel less alone.
When their next album, One Chord To Another, came out, I was shocked, disappointed, and furious. It sounded clean! It looked more polished! It had horns! What the hell was going on? It felt like Sloan had abandoned me. And so I abandoned them, pretending that album didn't exist. My younger brother bought the album and played it all the time, but I took the fact that he liked One Chord as yet another sign that he was inferior to me. As far as I was concerned, Sloan ended with Twice Removed.
Until one summer afternoon. I had just finished up my third year of university, in my summer job as a house-painter. I was listening to the radio to pass the time as I finished up a wall just before lunch. It was another moment I remember with great clarity: I was covering a house's stucco exterior with blue paint, and even after soaking the walls with water they soaked up paint so much I had to do three coats. (And a few days later I almost fell off the roof because they wanted me to paint their stucco chimney blue as well. But that's another story.) A siren came on the radio, and then this driving base note repeated over and over, and then a crazy rock hook. A series of chords that hit me right in the gut. I said to myself, "Who the hell is this?" and stopped working for the length of that song, just listening transfixed. When it was over, the announcer told me who it was: Sloan. Of course. The song was "Money City Maniacs," and in that moment I realized what a fool I had been. And Sloan has been a part of my life ever since.
This year marks Sloan's 20th anniversary, and they're touring with a new album. I am, of course, going to their Edmonton show, which will mark the seventh time I have seen them in concert. To prepare myself, I have been listening to all their previous albums pretty-much non-stop in the car for the past week. And every time I slide the next disc into the CD player, I remember things about who I was when I was first discovering those albums.
The young man confronted by his high-school ex-girlfriend one lunch hour, telling him she felt guilty because she made out with his best friend, all because of a song from Smeared he'd put on her "I'm Glad We're Still Friends" mix-tape.
The grad student who was pushing twenty-seven and thought he had life all figured out when Never Hear The End Of It came out.
The smarmy, stuck-up man-child just about to graduate from high school who thought he was a misunderstood genius and could have used a reality check the first time he heard a song off One Chord To Another.
The recent University graduate who was just discovering what it felt like when you get your heart broken for the first time, all to the soundtrack of Pretty Together.
That summer I spent driving from my parents' acreage to my painting job in the city, listening to Navy Blues and realizing that I couldn't stay at home for much longer.
And it all goes back to the day that an unsure high school boy swallowed his fear and went into a place he knew was dangerously too cool and off-limits, to find the mystical item that he hoped would transform him into someone else. Someone better. For Arthur it was Excalibur; for me it was Twice Removed. I could have done a lot worse.
(Thanks to my TwitEditors @DorklordCanada, @MrBalls, @Xeryfyn, and @AmyRhoda!)
Saturday, December 04, 2010
My Undead Christmas Playlist
NOTE: This post is NSFW - Not Safe For my Wife. She doesn't often read this, but in case she does: Hi honey! I love you. Please don't read any further.
Okay, everyone else. Let me tell you about Christmas music and video games, and how the two go together in awesome ways.
I am an unabashed fan of the Christmas season. Well, I suppose you should say the secular "Christmas" season, but still: I really love it. I love the food: Christmas baking and the eggnog and the hot buttered rum (I really like the hot buttered rum). I love going to Christmas and New Year's parties and seeing people you might only see once a year but still it's good to re-build those connections. I love the lights and the tree and the giving presents to everyone. But most importantly: I really like the songs. And there are some pretty awful songs out there, and there are some pretty awful versions of good songs. But I definitely have my favourites, and I play them a lot. (Only in December, though: I hate hearing "Jingle Bells" in November as much as the next guy.)
Last year my buddy loaned me a copy of Dead Rising for my xBox 360. I am not very good at shooter games, and I'm not the biggest fan of zombie anything, but I liked it quite a bit. I wasn't very good at it, but I liked it. And I when I was playing it last October, I realized: "In this game you're trapped in a mall killing zombies. And you can play whatever music you want through the Media Library. What if...I made a Christmas carol playlist, and it was like I was trapped in a mall during shopping season?" I may not necessarily be the brightest bulb on the tree, but I have my moments. The idea of chopping into a zombie with an axe while Bing Crosby crooned about a White Christmas was something I immediately latched on to. I made a playlist that had some of my favourite songs on it, with the condition that I liked them enough to be played over and over again - just like they do in real malls - and that they were either upbeat or hilariously out of place. I only came up with about a dozen songs because I don't own that many Christmas albums, and I added a few more as I found them on the internet or borrowed them from friends.
I didn't end up playing the game much last December - mostly because I had other games on my mind - but this year I decided to give it another shot, and hopefully I'll be able to finish it and finally give it back to him. So for your amusement and elucidation, I present to you my zombie-killing Christmas carol playlist, or as I like to call it: Red Christmas.
So that's my list. I've tried it out again this afternoon and it is still a lot of fun. If you have any suggestions for fun and quirky Christmas songs that I can add to my playlist, please let me know. Until then, I'll get back to trying to keep myself alive. Not an easy thing to do when you're surrounded by undead shoppers and have heard "Winter Wonderland" for the fiftieth time.
Okay, everyone else. Let me tell you about Christmas music and video games, and how the two go together in awesome ways.
I am an unabashed fan of the Christmas season. Well, I suppose you should say the secular "Christmas" season, but still: I really love it. I love the food: Christmas baking and the eggnog and the hot buttered rum (I really like the hot buttered rum). I love going to Christmas and New Year's parties and seeing people you might only see once a year but still it's good to re-build those connections. I love the lights and the tree and the giving presents to everyone. But most importantly: I really like the songs. And there are some pretty awful songs out there, and there are some pretty awful versions of good songs. But I definitely have my favourites, and I play them a lot. (Only in December, though: I hate hearing "Jingle Bells" in November as much as the next guy.)
Last year my buddy loaned me a copy of Dead Rising for my xBox 360. I am not very good at shooter games, and I'm not the biggest fan of zombie anything, but I liked it quite a bit. I wasn't very good at it, but I liked it. And I when I was playing it last October, I realized: "In this game you're trapped in a mall killing zombies. And you can play whatever music you want through the Media Library. What if...I made a Christmas carol playlist, and it was like I was trapped in a mall during shopping season?" I may not necessarily be the brightest bulb on the tree, but I have my moments. The idea of chopping into a zombie with an axe while Bing Crosby crooned about a White Christmas was something I immediately latched on to. I made a playlist that had some of my favourite songs on it, with the condition that I liked them enough to be played over and over again - just like they do in real malls - and that they were either upbeat or hilariously out of place. I only came up with about a dozen songs because I don't own that many Christmas albums, and I added a few more as I found them on the internet or borrowed them from friends.
I didn't end up playing the game much last December - mostly because I had other games on my mind - but this year I decided to give it another shot, and hopefully I'll be able to finish it and finally give it back to him. So for your amusement and elucidation, I present to you my zombie-killing Christmas carol playlist, or as I like to call it: Red Christmas.
- Bing Crosby - Jingle Bells
- Jackson 5 - Santa Claus is Coming to Town
- Burl Ives - Rudolph
- Jose Feliciano - Feliz Navidad
- Bing Crosby - Here Comes Santa Claus
- John Denver & The Muppets - Little Saint Nick
- Burl Ives - Holly Jolly Christmas
- Vince Guaraldi Trio - Skating
- Boney M - Mary's Boy Child/Oh My Lord
- Bing Crosby - White Christmas
- Funk Brothers - Winter Wonderland
- Prince - Another Lonely Christmas
- Burl Ives - Silver & Gold
- The Supremes - My Favourite Things
- Eartha Kitt - Santa Baby
- Bing Crosby - Sleigh Ride
So that's my list. I've tried it out again this afternoon and it is still a lot of fun. If you have any suggestions for fun and quirky Christmas songs that I can add to my playlist, please let me know. Until then, I'll get back to trying to keep myself alive. Not an easy thing to do when you're surrounded by undead shoppers and have heard "Winter Wonderland" for the fiftieth time.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Apparently, I am a Constant Source of Amusement to Chuck D
As you might not expect from a thirty-one-year-old white guy who grew up in the middle of conservative, redneck Alberta, Canada, I am a big, big fan of Public Enemy. As an adolescent, I had a pretty closed-minded view of music: the music I liked mainly consisted of Weird Al, John Denver, and The Beatles. It was only in junior high that my musical tastes slowly began to branch out.
It was during junior high or high school, probably at least sixteen years ago, I discovered "911 Is A Joke," a song done by P.E.'s high-energy hype man Flavor Flav. Which, in retrospect, could possibly be the best P.E. song for a Weird Al fan to listen to. Flavor Flav's delivery was funny, even though the material was serious, and that pulled me in. It was only later that I really began to appreciate the sound that The Bomb Squad and Terminator X produced: the multiple samples that in other hands could have just been noise but actually became something beautiful. And of course, there was the main voice of Public Enemy: Chuck D. The man's lyrics were amazing and his delivery was powerful. I got sucked in. I loved it. I even turned my younger brother on to them, although if you ask him he would say he was the one who introduced me to the group. No matter. The point is: Public Enemy was a big deal. I played Fear of a Black Planet over and over again all that summer, and It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back became my all-time favourite album for quite some time. Public Enemy slapped me out of my musical complacency, and became one of the most influential artists or groups on my musical and personal development. And all because of one silly-sounding song.
* * * * *
Eleven years ago, a friend of mine said that Public Enemy was going to be performing in Edmonton, and asked if I would like to go to the concert with him. I immediately said yes; after all, I lived in Edmonton. What were the chances that Public Enemy was ever going to come back to Edmonton, for crying out loud? This was probably my only chance.
We went to the show, and it was pretty packed; a lot of people were standing on the floor, and we pushed as far as we could from the foot of the stage. And when Public Enemy came out, they were everything I wanted them to be: loud and enthusiastic and amazing. Chuck D announced that Terminator X wasn't able to make it across the border, but they'd found someone to replace him for this leg of the tour, DJ Lord, and although I was a little disappointed I found that he was a very acceptable substitute. I don't remember much about that night, only that my friend and I danced as hard as I could, so hard that we hurt for days afterwards. At one point during the show, I bumped into someone who used to go to high school with me: he looked shocked at first, his face incredulous, as if to say, "Really? You're here?" But I just smiled and shouted "Isn't this GREAT?!", and he smiled and nodded his head. At some point during the show I even caught an autographed LP that Professor Griff threw into the audience, and somehow managed to keep it in good condition through the rest of the concert. When it was all over, I was so excited that I immediately ran to the merch table and bought a concert t-shirt to commemorate the event. I was on an incredible high all night; I couldn't get to sleep, and my younger brother - who was my roommate at the time - stayed up late with me as I told him all about the show. I actually got to see Public Enemy. I could die happy.
* * * * *
Five years ago, I was listening to CJSR - the local campus and community radio station - and they announced that Chuck D would be doing a reading at the University as part of their visionary speakers series. I asked Ninja Stan if he wanted to go to the lecture with me, as he loves Public Enemy almost as much as I do (the two of us have been known to do a mean "Bring The Noise" at karaoke nights). He immediately said yes. We were extremely excited; I wore the shirt I'd bought at the concert years before, and yes, I know that's kind of a nerdy thing to do, but I couldn't help myself. I was very excited. I also brought a couple of P.E. CDs for him to sign; one for me to keep and one to give to my younger brother as a Christmas present. We arrived early in order to close to the front of the line, and when they let us in to the hall, we made it down to the very front of the rows of seats. We were both so giddy that you could feel our entire row of seats shaking from our bouncing up and down. Chuck was set to be introduced by a local author and CJSR radio personality, someone whose work I rather enjoyed, and when he came out to make the introductions, my breath caught in my throat for a second.
The speaker talked about how important Chuck D was on music in general, and on himself in particular. It was very obvious that he was a fan, a bigger fan than me, obviously, but that's okay. It wasn't a contest. We were all there to listen to the man and enjoy the evening. And then, just before he introduced Chuck, he said something that almost ruined the whole evening for me. I can't remember his words exactly, but he said something about how "Chuck D and Public Enemy were there to take hip-hop back from the middle-class white kids that had co-opted it."
It was like a punch to the gut. My blood ran cold. I didn't know what to do. I was sitting there, in the front row, ready to hear one of my idols talk about music, society, and anything else he felt like, and all of a sudden I was thinking, "Do I even belong here?" I felt like getting up and leaving. But I didn't. Because then he brought Chuck out and the place erupted, and I remembered why I was there. I remembered that it didn't matter what people thought of the chubby white guy in the front row wearing a concert t-shirt. All that mattered is that I got to see Chuck D.
He talked for over 2 hours. At first, he just spoke, but later, he took questions from the audience and then used them to springboard onto new topics. He talked about race, about music, about culture, about politics, about Canada, about the economy, and on and on. After the two and a half hour mark, he was told that he was going to have to wrap it up, because he had a plane to catch in the morning and they wanted to make sure he made it to his hotel and had a decent amount of sleep. So he said that anyone who wanted an autograph should come up and stand in line, and he'd keep talking until the line was done and/or he ran out of questions, whichever came first. I immediately got in line, clutching my CDs, and waited.
When I finally got to the front of the line, he took my CDs from me without really looking, very businesslike, which made sense: he had to hold a number of things in his head to sign stuff and keep lecturing. I asked him to sign my "Revolverlution" album to me, and my "It Takes A Nation of Millions" album to my brother. He looked up at me to ask how to spell his name, and then when he was done, he handed them back, and was about to go back to his speaking, but I somehow blurted out, "Thanks for making great music and for being an inspiration for this middle-class white kid." Then he looked back up at me, then at my shirt, then back to me.
"Were you at the concert?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes, I was. It was great."
He cocked his head, frowned amusedly, and looked at me, like he was thinking, "Really?" Then he asked, "You want me to sign your shirt?"
I must have lit up like a candle. "Sure!"
He laughed, and said "What's your name, man?" I told him, and after he was finished signing my shirt, he shook my hand, smiled again and said, "Thanks, man," and he seemed really genuinely grateful, if a little confused, that I liked him and his group. I turned and went back to my seat, shaking a little. I couldn't believe it. I had shaken hands and talked to Chuck D. I could die just a little bit happier.
* * * * *
A couple of months ago, I was walking down the street, and saw a poster that said that Public Enemy was coming to Edmonton. I freaked out a little bit, and resolved to go to the concert. That resolution was made considerably easier when Ninja Stan said that he would take me to the show for my birthday. I was very on-board. And I know what you're thinking: no, I did not wear my concert t-shirt. I didn't want to look like a giant dork. I wore my Strong Bad t-shirt instead.
We showed up early, because Ninja Stan is a big gimp who walks with a cane and can't stand for a show, so we got a table to the left of the stage and watched the opening acts, who varied from "not bad" to "screamingly hilariously awful, seriously, this has to be a joke, right?" We sat and ate some pizza and talked, but then, it was time for the show. And I wasn't going to sit for it.
I made my way to the middle of the group that had gathered at the stage, and then, BAM! DJ Lord, who had since become a permanent member of the group, started playing, and then Chuck D and Flavor Flav came out, and then the BAND came out. They had a three-piece band with them as well, and they played the whole show. Chuck had a sore throat at the beginning of the set - "I blew out my throat in Saskatoon!" - but after he spent twenty minutes sipping on some hot tea and drinking some medical concoction in between songs, his voice popped back in, and they played for another TWO HOURS AND TEN MINUTES. Nothing but songs off of "Nation of Millions" and "Fear of a Black Planet," my two favourite albums; I danced, I shouted, and I cheered with every song.
When it was finally over, I made my way to the left side of the stage to get Flavor Flav's autograph on my ticket stub. It took a while, as there were a lot of people there who had obviously become fans through his "work" in reality television. After about five minutes I finally got a signature and a quick handshake, and then I made my way to the right of the stage to get Chuck's autograph. When he took it from me, I somehow got the urge to say, "Chuck, I was here at the concert the last time you came through, and I saw you speak at the University, and I wanted to say thank you very much, man, I really really enjoyed the show."
And he looked down at me, head cocked, amused frown on his face. "You were here ten years ago?"
I smiled. "Yes."
His frown turned into a small smile. "And you were at the University?"
I smiled. "Yes."
He smiled a little more and nodded his head in approval. "What's your name, man?"
I told him, and he held out his hand. "Thanks for coming to the show, Devin." I shook his hand, thanked him, and then ran back to the table to show off my ticket to Ninja Stan, happy to have come to the concert, happy to have my autographed ticket stub, and happy to once again have been a source of amusement for Chuck D.
It was during junior high or high school, probably at least sixteen years ago, I discovered "911 Is A Joke," a song done by P.E.'s high-energy hype man Flavor Flav. Which, in retrospect, could possibly be the best P.E. song for a Weird Al fan to listen to. Flavor Flav's delivery was funny, even though the material was serious, and that pulled me in. It was only later that I really began to appreciate the sound that The Bomb Squad and Terminator X produced: the multiple samples that in other hands could have just been noise but actually became something beautiful. And of course, there was the main voice of Public Enemy: Chuck D. The man's lyrics were amazing and his delivery was powerful. I got sucked in. I loved it. I even turned my younger brother on to them, although if you ask him he would say he was the one who introduced me to the group. No matter. The point is: Public Enemy was a big deal. I played Fear of a Black Planet over and over again all that summer, and It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back became my all-time favourite album for quite some time. Public Enemy slapped me out of my musical complacency, and became one of the most influential artists or groups on my musical and personal development. And all because of one silly-sounding song.
* * * * *
Eleven years ago, a friend of mine said that Public Enemy was going to be performing in Edmonton, and asked if I would like to go to the concert with him. I immediately said yes; after all, I lived in Edmonton. What were the chances that Public Enemy was ever going to come back to Edmonton, for crying out loud? This was probably my only chance.
We went to the show, and it was pretty packed; a lot of people were standing on the floor, and we pushed as far as we could from the foot of the stage. And when Public Enemy came out, they were everything I wanted them to be: loud and enthusiastic and amazing. Chuck D announced that Terminator X wasn't able to make it across the border, but they'd found someone to replace him for this leg of the tour, DJ Lord, and although I was a little disappointed I found that he was a very acceptable substitute. I don't remember much about that night, only that my friend and I danced as hard as I could, so hard that we hurt for days afterwards. At one point during the show, I bumped into someone who used to go to high school with me: he looked shocked at first, his face incredulous, as if to say, "Really? You're here?" But I just smiled and shouted "Isn't this GREAT?!", and he smiled and nodded his head. At some point during the show I even caught an autographed LP that Professor Griff threw into the audience, and somehow managed to keep it in good condition through the rest of the concert. When it was all over, I was so excited that I immediately ran to the merch table and bought a concert t-shirt to commemorate the event. I was on an incredible high all night; I couldn't get to sleep, and my younger brother - who was my roommate at the time - stayed up late with me as I told him all about the show. I actually got to see Public Enemy. I could die happy.
* * * * *
Five years ago, I was listening to CJSR - the local campus and community radio station - and they announced that Chuck D would be doing a reading at the University as part of their visionary speakers series. I asked Ninja Stan if he wanted to go to the lecture with me, as he loves Public Enemy almost as much as I do (the two of us have been known to do a mean "Bring The Noise" at karaoke nights). He immediately said yes. We were extremely excited; I wore the shirt I'd bought at the concert years before, and yes, I know that's kind of a nerdy thing to do, but I couldn't help myself. I was very excited. I also brought a couple of P.E. CDs for him to sign; one for me to keep and one to give to my younger brother as a Christmas present. We arrived early in order to close to the front of the line, and when they let us in to the hall, we made it down to the very front of the rows of seats. We were both so giddy that you could feel our entire row of seats shaking from our bouncing up and down. Chuck was set to be introduced by a local author and CJSR radio personality, someone whose work I rather enjoyed, and when he came out to make the introductions, my breath caught in my throat for a second.
The speaker talked about how important Chuck D was on music in general, and on himself in particular. It was very obvious that he was a fan, a bigger fan than me, obviously, but that's okay. It wasn't a contest. We were all there to listen to the man and enjoy the evening. And then, just before he introduced Chuck, he said something that almost ruined the whole evening for me. I can't remember his words exactly, but he said something about how "Chuck D and Public Enemy were there to take hip-hop back from the middle-class white kids that had co-opted it."
It was like a punch to the gut. My blood ran cold. I didn't know what to do. I was sitting there, in the front row, ready to hear one of my idols talk about music, society, and anything else he felt like, and all of a sudden I was thinking, "Do I even belong here?" I felt like getting up and leaving. But I didn't. Because then he brought Chuck out and the place erupted, and I remembered why I was there. I remembered that it didn't matter what people thought of the chubby white guy in the front row wearing a concert t-shirt. All that mattered is that I got to see Chuck D.
He talked for over 2 hours. At first, he just spoke, but later, he took questions from the audience and then used them to springboard onto new topics. He talked about race, about music, about culture, about politics, about Canada, about the economy, and on and on. After the two and a half hour mark, he was told that he was going to have to wrap it up, because he had a plane to catch in the morning and they wanted to make sure he made it to his hotel and had a decent amount of sleep. So he said that anyone who wanted an autograph should come up and stand in line, and he'd keep talking until the line was done and/or he ran out of questions, whichever came first. I immediately got in line, clutching my CDs, and waited.
When I finally got to the front of the line, he took my CDs from me without really looking, very businesslike, which made sense: he had to hold a number of things in his head to sign stuff and keep lecturing. I asked him to sign my "Revolverlution" album to me, and my "It Takes A Nation of Millions" album to my brother. He looked up at me to ask how to spell his name, and then when he was done, he handed them back, and was about to go back to his speaking, but I somehow blurted out, "Thanks for making great music and for being an inspiration for this middle-class white kid." Then he looked back up at me, then at my shirt, then back to me.
"Were you at the concert?"
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes, I was. It was great."
He cocked his head, frowned amusedly, and looked at me, like he was thinking, "Really?" Then he asked, "You want me to sign your shirt?"
I must have lit up like a candle. "Sure!"
He laughed, and said "What's your name, man?" I told him, and after he was finished signing my shirt, he shook my hand, smiled again and said, "Thanks, man," and he seemed really genuinely grateful, if a little confused, that I liked him and his group. I turned and went back to my seat, shaking a little. I couldn't believe it. I had shaken hands and talked to Chuck D. I could die just a little bit happier.
* * * * *
A couple of months ago, I was walking down the street, and saw a poster that said that Public Enemy was coming to Edmonton. I freaked out a little bit, and resolved to go to the concert. That resolution was made considerably easier when Ninja Stan said that he would take me to the show for my birthday. I was very on-board. And I know what you're thinking: no, I did not wear my concert t-shirt. I didn't want to look like a giant dork. I wore my Strong Bad t-shirt instead.
We showed up early, because Ninja Stan is a big gimp who walks with a cane and can't stand for a show, so we got a table to the left of the stage and watched the opening acts, who varied from "not bad" to "screamingly hilariously awful, seriously, this has to be a joke, right?" We sat and ate some pizza and talked, but then, it was time for the show. And I wasn't going to sit for it.
I made my way to the middle of the group that had gathered at the stage, and then, BAM! DJ Lord, who had since become a permanent member of the group, started playing, and then Chuck D and Flavor Flav came out, and then the BAND came out. They had a three-piece band with them as well, and they played the whole show. Chuck had a sore throat at the beginning of the set - "I blew out my throat in Saskatoon!" - but after he spent twenty minutes sipping on some hot tea and drinking some medical concoction in between songs, his voice popped back in, and they played for another TWO HOURS AND TEN MINUTES. Nothing but songs off of "Nation of Millions" and "Fear of a Black Planet," my two favourite albums; I danced, I shouted, and I cheered with every song.
When it was finally over, I made my way to the left side of the stage to get Flavor Flav's autograph on my ticket stub. It took a while, as there were a lot of people there who had obviously become fans through his "work" in reality television. After about five minutes I finally got a signature and a quick handshake, and then I made my way to the right of the stage to get Chuck's autograph. When he took it from me, I somehow got the urge to say, "Chuck, I was here at the concert the last time you came through, and I saw you speak at the University, and I wanted to say thank you very much, man, I really really enjoyed the show."
And he looked down at me, head cocked, amused frown on his face. "You were here ten years ago?"
I smiled. "Yes."
His frown turned into a small smile. "And you were at the University?"
I smiled. "Yes."
He smiled a little more and nodded his head in approval. "What's your name, man?"
I told him, and he held out his hand. "Thanks for coming to the show, Devin." I shook his hand, thanked him, and then ran back to the table to show off my ticket to Ninja Stan, happy to have come to the concert, happy to have my autographed ticket stub, and happy to once again have been a source of amusement for Chuck D.
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
What's Up Wednesday - July 9, 2008
Capsule reviews today due to insomnia and overwhelming urge to sleep.
The TV Show: I blazed through the last half of How I Met Your Mother Season One and ALL of Season Two while my Peach was away. That show is good stuff. Definitely above the level of your average sitcom; nearing Coupling levels, but not quite there.
The Book: I finished The Perks of Being A Wallflower in a span of 24 hours and it was pretty dang good. Certainly above what I've come to expect from some of the YA (Young Adult) books I've been reading. Also: why did I start reading YA books? I didn't read them when I was a young adult; why read them now?
The Album: Sly and The Family Stone's A Whole New Thing is really, REALLY good. But then again, I'm mostly basing that on how awesome the first track, Underdog. SO AWESOME. I think I may have found my new theme song. I will be sad to see you, Theme From The Andy Griffith Show, but you are not funky enough. (Yeah yeah!)
The TV Show: I blazed through the last half of How I Met Your Mother Season One and ALL of Season Two while my Peach was away. That show is good stuff. Definitely above the level of your average sitcom; nearing Coupling levels, but not quite there.
The Book: I finished The Perks of Being A Wallflower in a span of 24 hours and it was pretty dang good. Certainly above what I've come to expect from some of the YA (Young Adult) books I've been reading. Also: why did I start reading YA books? I didn't read them when I was a young adult; why read them now?
The Album: Sly and The Family Stone's A Whole New Thing is really, REALLY good. But then again, I'm mostly basing that on how awesome the first track, Underdog. SO AWESOME. I think I may have found my new theme song. I will be sad to see you, Theme From The Andy Griffith Show, but you are not funky enough. (Yeah yeah!)
TrivInsomnia
I'm unable to sleep, which is going to wreak havoc on my day tomorrow (I'm supposed to meet people at 8:00 a.m. for breakfast). But I thought I'd use this time to look up some things that I was curious about earlier this week and share them so as to improve the breadth of knowledge of my readership.
1. There is no difference in makeup or size between a symphony orchestra and a philharmonic orchestra. Both are made up of string, brass, woodwind, and percussion sections, and have a large number of musicians (about one hundred; compare that to a chamber orchestra, who has about forty members). Philharmonic (from the Greek for "music-loving") and symphony (from the Greek for "sounding together") orchestras do differ in one sense, though. It's a matter of semantics. Symphonic is a general term, while philharmonic is a specific term that only occurs as part of a name. So you could say that the London Philharmonic Orchestra is a symphonic orchestra, but you couldn't say that the London Symphony Orchestra is a philharmonic orchestra.
2. Chicken Tikka Masala, an Indian-style dish that features roast chicken (chicken tikka) in a tomato and curry sauce, wasn't created in India at all. It was created in Great Britain. The most famous story was that it was invented in a Glasgow in the 1960s, when a customer in an Indian restaurant ordered roast chicken and when it arrived, asked where the gravy was.
3. Speaking of gravy: poutine, the famous French-Canadian dish of French fries, cheese curds, and gravy, caused an international incident last week. A poster celebrating the Canada Day party at the Canadian Embassy in the U.S. featured Samuel De Champlain, founder of Quebec City (whose 400th anniversary is this weekend), holding a plate of poutine. This is apparently insulting and in bad taste: Jean-Paul Perreault, spokesman for Impératif Français, was quoted as saying "If they wanted to make a joke it's a really bad joke and if it wasn't a joke, well, it's worse then." Then, he likened the poster to using a hot dog to pomote English Canada. I'm not Quebecois, but I think that's overreacting. First of all, although it's unclear where hot dogs were first created, it was probably either Vienna or Bavaria, and was likely refined in New York City to look like the hot dogs we know today. Second of all, poutine is a well-known French Canadian food, and it has instant recognition: putting it on the poster makes sense to me, and I don't see how it's insulting. Also: if they make the English Canadian poster, I think John Diefenbaker should be holding the hot dog. It would look really funny.
That's all folks. Good night; hope you can get to sleep.
1. There is no difference in makeup or size between a symphony orchestra and a philharmonic orchestra. Both are made up of string, brass, woodwind, and percussion sections, and have a large number of musicians (about one hundred; compare that to a chamber orchestra, who has about forty members). Philharmonic (from the Greek for "music-loving") and symphony (from the Greek for "sounding together") orchestras do differ in one sense, though. It's a matter of semantics. Symphonic is a general term, while philharmonic is a specific term that only occurs as part of a name. So you could say that the London Philharmonic Orchestra is a symphonic orchestra, but you couldn't say that the London Symphony Orchestra is a philharmonic orchestra.
2. Chicken Tikka Masala, an Indian-style dish that features roast chicken (chicken tikka) in a tomato and curry sauce, wasn't created in India at all. It was created in Great Britain. The most famous story was that it was invented in a Glasgow in the 1960s, when a customer in an Indian restaurant ordered roast chicken and when it arrived, asked where the gravy was.
3. Speaking of gravy: poutine, the famous French-Canadian dish of French fries, cheese curds, and gravy, caused an international incident last week. A poster celebrating the Canada Day party at the Canadian Embassy in the U.S. featured Samuel De Champlain, founder of Quebec City (whose 400th anniversary is this weekend), holding a plate of poutine. This is apparently insulting and in bad taste: Jean-Paul Perreault, spokesman for Impératif Français, was quoted as saying "If they wanted to make a joke it's a really bad joke and if it wasn't a joke, well, it's worse then." Then, he likened the poster to using a hot dog to pomote English Canada. I'm not Quebecois, but I think that's overreacting. First of all, although it's unclear where hot dogs were first created, it was probably either Vienna or Bavaria, and was likely refined in New York City to look like the hot dogs we know today. Second of all, poutine is a well-known French Canadian food, and it has instant recognition: putting it on the poster makes sense to me, and I don't see how it's insulting. Also: if they make the English Canadian poster, I think John Diefenbaker should be holding the hot dog. It would look really funny.
That's all folks. Good night; hope you can get to sleep.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
What's Up Wednesday - June 25, 2008
We take a quick break from my entirely too-thought-out series of posts about the AFI to spill the beans on what I've been liking - and not liking - for the past seven days. Some have been good, some have been bad, but they've all made their way here. Let's give them a warm welcome, shall we?
The Movie - Morgoid and I went to see Young People Fucking last night. It's a Canadian-made comedy film that's been under a bit of scrutiny in recent months thanks to its connection to the controversial Bill C-10. (I'm not going to comment much on the bill or its questionable clause, except to say that I disagree with it.) Aside from the controversy, the movie is actually pretty good: funny and thought-provoking. It's five different stories of love and/or sex, split up according to different points in the act (Prelude, Foreplay, etc.). The movie actually plays both sides very well, using controversy and the promise of titillation to get butts in seats, and then makes very well-thought-out and important points about how sex and love are seen in modern society. Well, mostly well-thought-out: there was one point in the movie (no spoilers here) where both Morgoid and I just gasped and were flabbergasted by what we saw as cheap trickery and bad writing. But four out of five good stories makes for a good film overall, one I can recommend with one notable reservation. So if you're anti-censorship, pro-sex, or interested in Canadian film, go see it. (And if you see it - or have seen it - please let me know if you think you understand which scene I disliked.)
The Album - I popped Funkadelic's America Eats Its Young on the mp3 player yesterday and was really surprised by how good it was. The first time I listened to it I remembered being unimpressed, but this time I was really pleased. A really pleasing mix of funk, soul, and r&b; not as hard as Let's Take It To The Stage and not as sprawlingly brilliant as Maggot Brain, but a good little album to have in your collection.
The Drink - When I saw billboards for Sleeman's No. 20 Anniversary Ale popping up, I went to a number of my local liquor stores looking for it, but they didn't have any in. I finally found it when I was looking for wine on Father's Day, and I had my first bottle the other day. I really like Sleeman's Honey Brown and their Amber Ale is pretty good too, so I was expecting good things, especially from an anniversary brew. Sadly, this is pretty pathetic. Nothing special at all about it; in fact, it's actually bad. It feels bad in the mouth, smells a little off, and tastes worse than Pabst Blue Ribbon. Just dreck. The only way it's drinkable is if you either a) drink it really fast or b) turn it into a Dillinger. Never agin.
The Book - I cracked open The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time yesterday on my way to work and finished it up today. I will say that, while it's good, it's not exactly what I was expecting. The book starts off as a murder mystery with a twist: the investigator - and author of the book - is a fifteen-year-old boy with Autism, and the murder victim is his neighbor's dog. But the book is about much more than that. Author Mark Haddon's technique is really good, bordering on too tricky-cute sometimes, but it really helps the reader get into the mindset of someone with Autism as best one can (though some people would disagree). It's good, but a lot different than I was expecting, and I don't think as deserving of some of the hype it had recieved when it was released. It's good, but not life-alteringly so.
The Movie - Morgoid and I went to see Young People Fucking last night. It's a Canadian-made comedy film that's been under a bit of scrutiny in recent months thanks to its connection to the controversial Bill C-10. (I'm not going to comment much on the bill or its questionable clause, except to say that I disagree with it.) Aside from the controversy, the movie is actually pretty good: funny and thought-provoking. It's five different stories of love and/or sex, split up according to different points in the act (Prelude, Foreplay, etc.). The movie actually plays both sides very well, using controversy and the promise of titillation to get butts in seats, and then makes very well-thought-out and important points about how sex and love are seen in modern society. Well, mostly well-thought-out: there was one point in the movie (no spoilers here) where both Morgoid and I just gasped and were flabbergasted by what we saw as cheap trickery and bad writing. But four out of five good stories makes for a good film overall, one I can recommend with one notable reservation. So if you're anti-censorship, pro-sex, or interested in Canadian film, go see it. (And if you see it - or have seen it - please let me know if you think you understand which scene I disliked.)
The Album - I popped Funkadelic's America Eats Its Young on the mp3 player yesterday and was really surprised by how good it was. The first time I listened to it I remembered being unimpressed, but this time I was really pleased. A really pleasing mix of funk, soul, and r&b; not as hard as Let's Take It To The Stage and not as sprawlingly brilliant as Maggot Brain, but a good little album to have in your collection.
The Drink - When I saw billboards for Sleeman's No. 20 Anniversary Ale popping up, I went to a number of my local liquor stores looking for it, but they didn't have any in. I finally found it when I was looking for wine on Father's Day, and I had my first bottle the other day. I really like Sleeman's Honey Brown and their Amber Ale is pretty good too, so I was expecting good things, especially from an anniversary brew. Sadly, this is pretty pathetic. Nothing special at all about it; in fact, it's actually bad. It feels bad in the mouth, smells a little off, and tastes worse than Pabst Blue Ribbon. Just dreck. The only way it's drinkable is if you either a) drink it really fast or b) turn it into a Dillinger. Never agin.
The Book - I cracked open The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time yesterday on my way to work and finished it up today. I will say that, while it's good, it's not exactly what I was expecting. The book starts off as a murder mystery with a twist: the investigator - and author of the book - is a fifteen-year-old boy with Autism, and the murder victim is his neighbor's dog. But the book is about much more than that. Author Mark Haddon's technique is really good, bordering on too tricky-cute sometimes, but it really helps the reader get into the mindset of someone with Autism as best one can (though some people would disagree). It's good, but a lot different than I was expecting, and I don't think as deserving of some of the hype it had recieved when it was released. It's good, but not life-alteringly so.
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