World of Pandemonium

Return of the DJ: Let's Be Friends

2009-07-03T11:39:00.001-07:00

After nearly a year hiatus from behind the decks to seek out gainful employment in a new country, I return to my favorite hobby as DJ Acrylic. I can hear my friends back in Canada ask, "Why the name change?" I came to the decision since no one knows me in San Antonio. In Halifax, everyone knew me from The Coast first, DJing second, so it was a matter of keeping the name going forward. In S.A., no one really knows me either way, so I thought it was as great opportunity to come up with something different.

As for Acrylic, I lifted the name from a Pulp song, "Acrylic Afternoons." I thought it sounded slightly retro, had a name that evoked texture, and looked cool on paper. It also happens to be the name I recorded a mix with Colin Crowell of Ruby Jean and the Thoughtful Bees fame last year, entitled Acrylic Disco. I might actually change the name to Select-Start (from the Nintendo control pad), but for now it's Acrylic.

I'm playing this show at the invitation of Exponential Records head Ernest Gonzales (a fantastic DJ in his own right). The night will feature a difference in sounds, including the experimental downtempo of A.M. Architect, plus the hip-hop, funk & soul of Rae Davis, not to mention the fun bangers of Johnny Walker and Adrian. Personally, I will be playing some Brit-pop, retro, electro, and indie-dance remixes. Something familiar, something new, all of it fun.

For those of you in San Antonio, it's at the Mineshaft Saloon behind Magic Time Machine on 410 E at the Broadway exit. Starts at 10 p.m., ends at 2 a.m., and best of all, it's FREE cover. Bring friends, get there early, stay late, and be ready to dance your pants off.

World of Pandemonium Tracks of June/July

2009-06-29T23:14:00.000-07:00

Brooklyn's Chairlift are a band to watch in 2009
So I'm a little behind posting this, but it's been a good two months of brand new music, including my latest discovery in yet another cool as sh** band from Brooklyn. Chairlift recalls the '80s AM radio magic of the Thompson Twins mixed with sly indie-sweetness of the Magnetic Fields. Highly recommended.

Other great music includes the new album from Kasabian, West Ryder Lunatic Asylum, which isn't nearly as bad as the title. Indie-music bloggers will probably put a hit on me for saying this, but Phoenix released a watered-down version of their last (and great) album with Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix. I'm convinced that Phoenix is this generation's Chicago. It's music you listen to on Saturdays, in the park. Can you dig it? Yes, I can!

Other tunes are oldies, but goodies, some from 2008 that didn't get enough love, and some from albums I've been rocking out for the last few months. I hope you enjoy some of my recent faves. And please do yourself a favor, watch the "Goin' Back To Hali" vid by Josh Martinez, featuring a who's-who of Halifax hip-hop heads. Gordski cameo!

WORLD OF PANDEMONIUM TRACKS OF JUNE/JULY 2009 (click here to access the playlist)

1. Chairlift - Bruises
2. Phoenix – Lisztomania
3. Kasabian - Fire
4. Silversun Pickups – Panic Switch
5. Midnight Juggernauts – Nine Lives
6. Peaches – Lose You
7. The Presets - This Boy's In Love
8. Metric – Help I’m Alive (Twelves Remix)
9. Crystal Stilts – Love Is A Wave
10. Jarvis Cocker – I Never Said I Was Deep
11. Arnold – Fleas Don’t Fly
12. Constantines and Feist – Islands In The Stream
13. Josh Martinez – Going Back To Hali

Job Search '09: Job No. 2 - SAT Tutor, Princeton Review

2009-05-26T17:52:00.000-07:00

THE LOW-DOWN: Teach high school students the tricks, tips, and strategies to scoring higher on the Standardized Aptitude Test AKA SAT. In the process, help earn them the right to a higher education (forget grades, extra-curricular activities and volunteer service) at an extremely expensive four-year school in an economic climate that doesn't even promise a job after said educational experience. Helping America's youth achieve their dreams. Aww, yeah.

PROS: This will largely help my chances of getting a teaching job as any form of experience is great for a potential hire. Not only will I get to my stroke my ego by forcing high school kids to listen to me, er, I mean, direct youth towards a positive result on the SATs, but I will also get valuable hours working in a classroom setting. Also, there are plenty of opportunities for private tutoring sessions.

CONS: It's only part-time, which means I'll be stuck in my current predicament (crappy-ass job) for the time being. Even if I get enough hours between classroom work and private tutoring, I wouldn't have any health insurance coverage if I left my current position. The only way I'd receive coverage is if I went full time and that's not going to happen for a while.

CHANCES: 80 percent. I already have a leg up on the job as I know someone who has been teaching for the Princeton Review for sometime now. She actually called me and told me to fill out the application and to call her supervisor, who was expecting my call.

Days after I filled out the resume and talked to the supervisor, I received a phone message(!) and an email(!), asking me to come in for an teaching audition. It goes to show, it's who you know in these days of occupational uncertainty.

Websites to Watch: Blip.fm

2009-05-25T05:14:00.000-07:00

I stumbled upon Blip FM recently - thanks, true AMenitY - and joined for its ease in finding new music and a simplistic way to build a playlist for friends or anyone else to access for listening.

Come visit the World Of Pandemonium station to listen to some of the recent tracks I've been jamming out to this past month. I will do my best to fill you in every month as to the best songs and albums I've heard over the past four weeks. And if you do decide to start your own playlist, or you already have one, please add me to your DJ list or give me some props (the system that lets DJs know you like the songs they have added to their station, ie. "blipped"). I'd love to hear what's on your speakers these days.

WORLD OF PANDEMONIUM - TRACKS OF MAY

Playlist (World of Pandemonium mini-reviews at Blip.fm)
1. Depeche Mode - Wrong
2. Metric - Gimme Sympathy
3. Peaches - Talk To Me
4. Friendly Fires - White Diamonds
5. Jarvis Cocker - Leftovers
6. Matt & Kim - Don't Slow Down
7. Viva Voce - Devotion
8. Diego Bernal - Bring It On Home (Mexicans With Guns Remix)
9. Gus Gus - Ladyshave
10. Animal Collective - My Girls (Mexicans With Guns Remix)
11. Royksopp w/Robyn - The Girl and the Robot

Job Search 2009

2009-05-19T19:54:00.000-07:00

If 2008 was as a transition year, 2009 has been the year of finding gainful employment once again. I decided that education had to be a shoo-in for easy-to-find jobs and finally, a use for that BA in History I've barely had need for in the workplace.

So far I've applied to approximately ten different school districts in hopes of earning a position as either a high school social studies or journalism teacher. It would be more than ten, but each application takes several hours to complete, full of tedious, time consuming questions such as "List all the Zip/Postal Codes of your former residences in the last seven years" (this is obviously a life or death question to determine whether you are suitable to work with teenagers).

I've passed the certification test for both journalism and social studies. Besides journalism, I am qualified to teach an array of subjects under the social studies umbrella including: U.S. History, World History, Geography, Economics, Government and Politics, and Behavioral Sciences (Sociology/Psychology). Who cares whether I've had a Sociology class in my entire academic life? I passed the test, darn it, and that says I'm highly qualified to impart my wisdom to the impressionable brains of others.

However, in these harsh economic times, finding a job in education much less anything worthwhile is increasingly difficult. People who are being laid-off from jobs or given the option of an early retirement plan are attending alternative certification programs to try their hand at teaching. Kids need to learn, right? There's got to be easy jobs out there, teacher positions growing on trees. Judging from the billboards on the side of the road - my fave: Wanna Teach? When Can You Start? - getting a teaching job is like shooting fish in a barrel.

Sorry, it's not.

There are only so many spots for so many prospective employees. Many of these keeners out for these spots have experience teaching and are looking for a change of districts; some actually have their degrees in education and have student teaching experience; the new crop of alternative certified teachers are required to have student teaching under their belts. That makes it extra difficult for someone in my position - with no teaching experience - to get a job.
I plan on giving it my all until the middle of July to look for a teaching job. If it doesn't happen, I will have to wait until August to apply for substitute teaching or observation hours.

Meanwhile, I'm stuck in a job I really can't stand and am way overqualified for, making less than half of what I did two years ago. What blows is I can't leave until I find a job that offers medical insurance. After working with people without medical insurance, I've seem how fast one can rack up bad debt without that coverage. This isn't Canada. It's the good ol' U.S.ofA, where healthcare is privatized and where they punish you for not being able to afford insurance with whopping healthcare costs. There's no way I can afford to be caught without insurance.

My situation is frustrating and draining, knowing that I should be doing so much more, but not really knowing what it is I'm supposed to do in order to make it happen. Should I go back to school and get my Master's in something that will land me that high-paying job? Should I move to a different city in order to broaden my prospects? Should I find something completely independent from my previous training? Should I stick it out as a writer and start working on something that could land me a gig somewhere?

These are the questions that hammer away inside my head, pangs of unending underachievement.

Ergo, Job Search 2009.

Over the course of two weeks I plan on applying for 10 jobs. I will list them here and keep you apprised of any updates. Whether I score an interview or get the door shut in my face, you will be able to track my travails in finding meaningful work, at the same time, discover whether I find any sort of meaning in the modern 21st Century struggle of searching for a decent occupation amongst people of my generation. I'm convinced I'm not alone. Now you don't have to be either.

Job No. 1 - Journalism teacher, Kerrville ISD

Not going to lie about this one. I would love this job and I would be hella good at it.

PROS: I love Kerrville. It's a nice, quaint town in the Texas Hill Country that has a lot of charm. I think it would be fun and affirming to work in a small-town environment, especially since I cut my teeth in journalism in small-town Lunenburg, Nova Scotia.

Kerrville would make it an ideal place for students to learn the tools of the trade as everyone is sure to know each other's business. Mrs. Potts' cat keeps using Ms. Jones' garden for a litter box? That's news in a small town. The rodeo is coming to town? That's front page material! Also, Kerrville isn't too far from San Antonio or Austin. Not to mention, I'm still working as a journalist, so I can parlay real life work experience to the students. They would probably be blown away by Twitter.

CONS: They are looking for someone with a photojournalism background and I've never been the first to say I was a good photographer. I do know my way around Adobe Photoshop, but my prowess with the lense has always left room for improvement. Hey, I'm no Annie Liebovitz. That's not to say a summer spent with a digital camera wouldn't get me back to speed.

CHANCES: 15 percent. There were a handful of test-takers at the TExES Journalism exam and a job in a nice district such as Kerrville would be ideal for a young teacher looking to settle down in a safe, culture-rich rural town. However, I've been told that when the rare journalism job opens, they stay open for a long time. Crossing my fingers, but not counting chickens by any stretch.

Random (Live) Review: Morrissey - Bass Concert Hall, Austin, TX - April 12, 2009

2009-04-22T23:44:00.000-07:00

Calling myself excited to see Morrissey would be an understatement of the highest order, bordering on too high expectations. That said, the 50-year-old proved why he's been so influential over the past 25 years while remaining relevant, running through 25-years worth of top-rate, maudlin British pop songs.

The Mozzer came out to rapturous applause to the intro music echoing the same used as his time with The Smiths. It wouldn't be the last time he revisited his former day-job over the course of the night. For a man halfway to the cemetary gates, he looked great, with a slight belly showing, but for the most part trim. He arrived in full tux, but he changed his shirt more times than Cher changes costumes at farewell shows, with at least five Gucci-specials getting their due.

The stage was against a backdrop of a flexing sailor, cigar confidently propped in his mouth, recalling the frontman's past use of homoerotic artwork on LPs and singles. So far, so Morrissey. The lighting throughout the show was spectacular and lived up the spate of electric live performances the icon has bedazzled fans with over the past few years.

His long-time backing band of rockbilly-coiffed musicians ripped into "This Charming Man," signaling that if El Moz was still ill towards his former band, it wouldn't stop him from playing songs from his previous band's catalogue. His new gang of mates were in fine form all night long, dressed in black with white ties featuring Morrissey's stenciled face (Price gouging alert - the ties were on sale for $50, $15 more than any t-shirt at the merch desk. I'm a big fan of hand screen-printed ties, but this was ridiculous).

Regardless, the set featured mostly new tunes from the 2003 comeback album You Are The Quarry onward, to the recently released Years of Refusal. Moz sprinkled his set with a few old classics from both his Smiths and solo material, including a rousing "How Soon Is Now" (see video below), "Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others," "Ask Me," and rarely played "Death of a Disco Dancer."

The only complaint of the night came from a short set. Songs weren't played in their entirety and many times it felt as though the band were running through a medley of Morrissey tunes. We were out of the venue before 10:30, way too early to be sent home after hanging out with a hero.

New songs sounded much better live, a ferocity and urgency not apparent on celluloid. On disc, Morrissey's post-millennial output sometimes comes across as self-indulgent, strings pulling his close-to-cariacture lyrics to flippant new levels, only superceded by the Brit's rock star ego. But live, songs from the last three albums (...Quarry, Ringleader of the Tormentors (2006), and ...Refusal) make for a captivating, transcendent experience that taps perfectly into Morrissey's stage persona.

Stephen Patrick has mellowed some in his old age and it appeared his audience has done the same, with very few people trying to rush the stage and the Moz not encouraging the behavior he seemed to once welcome. Mellow doesn't mean he's lost his sharp, witty edge, as shown during a brief inter-song Q&A period with the audience:

Spectator: Why does the guy beside me think he's a better singer than you? [The audiences gasps]

Moz: [dryly, without hesitation] Because he's your husband.

Another Spectator: Can I have your shirt?

Moz: "Only if I can have yours...[reconsidering] No, no, it's Easter Sunday. We must be decent."

Morrissey alluding to Easter Sunday with the fans:

One of the more remarkable things about a Morrissey show is the cross-generational demographic in attendance. There were American Apparel-wearing college hipsters, middle-aged housewives, Latino rockabilly kids, and 30-something, young professionals. It proves the power Morrissey retains over so many, the ability to tap into some part of us and speak to us through overly literate sentiments set to a chiming, 60s-influenced, rockabilly-flavored beat. This Charming Man, indeed.

8.5 out of 10 microphones

Random Review: Metric - Fantasies

2009-04-06T01:28:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite bands to do shots with returns with its fourth full-length, Fantasies on April 14. That's right, I've done shots with Metric. A couple of times. And I know that lead singer and synth player Emily Haines would give me one of those icy-as-Nico-without-her-stash stares if I didn't give you the truth on what I think about her new record. One of her most endearing qualities is she's not one for those who blow smoke up her ass. She likes straight talk and no bullshit. Tequila too.

Metric has been one of those bands that always aimed for stardom. It was ingrained in its musical DNA early on with Haines and guitarist Jimmy Shaw once Brooklyn roommates with the Yeah Yeah Yeah's Nick Zinner and Torquil Campbell of Stars. They also happen to be part of the groundbreaking Canadian collective Broken Social Scene, which won awards and sold out shows everywhere since the early-2000s, launching the career of its biggest member, Feist, amongst many others. For Metric, the push for greatness wasn't something to hope for, it was expected.

Haines once told me during an interview she'd love to play bigger venues after opening for the Rolling Stones at Madison Square Garden. Slowly, the group got bigger and bigger, and it seemed like Metric could achieve its ambitions with a killer follow-up to 2005’s well-received Live It Out. The band was selling out club shows and playing festivals in America and UK while playing larger theatre gigs in Canada. The pinnacle of Metric's power came with two self-curated festival shows – in hometown Toronto and Montreal - called Dog Day Afternoon. To many that attended, the band appeared unstoppable.

Then something funny happened. Instead of a smash follow-up to Live It Out, we got two solo discs (Knives Don't Have Your Back LP and What Is Free To A Good Home? EP) from Haines and the debut from Bang Lime, the side-piece of bassist Josh Winstead and drummer Joules Scott-Key. There was also the release of Grow Up and Blow Away, an album written before the breakout 2003 record, and way more excellent, Old World Underground, Where Are You Now?

There was a reason Grow Up… didn't see the light of day in the late-90s. The album came to fruition when Metric was simply a duo, consisting of Haines and Shaw accompanied by a drum machine. It still feels under-produced and is largely devoid of the contagious, rock-star rush of later albums. Instead, when it was released in 2007, it reeked of being a stopgap while the group took extended time to write, record and step out of the spotlight it had once craved so much.

Between the release of Live It Out and the band's disappearance in 2008, there were moments when it was apparent members of the quartet were unsure what to do with their newfound stardom, almost to the point of pushing it away. While the group often welcomed the accolades for its music and live show, it sometimes lashed out at its ever-decreasing anonymity. Check out the story I wrote for Halifax’s alt-weekly, The Coast to get a clearer picture.

The first time Metric played Halifax, a year after the release of Live It Out, the musicians were thrilled to finally have substantial audiences listening to their music. They seemed invigorated and ready for anything. Hanging out with three of the band members post-show at my favorite bar, Shaw and a newly-wed Scott-Key were almost hyper by the payoff for their hard work. Understandably so, as they just played to a packed venue in front of couple thousand fans. See my review on the show.

Even then, after a huge concert, they remained relatively under-the-radar, few people recognizing them at the bar as we danced and drank the night away. They were about to embark on several more months of shows, a grinding tour schedule that had to be extremely hard on the body and mind, especially with the group's love of hard-living, late nights, and post-show parties. When I ran into Haines before a show in Austin, Texas in April 2006, she appeared hungover, most likely due to a supposed dance-party on the bus the night before. One could only ponder how long it took before this kind of lifestyle took its toll.

When the band visited Halifax for the second time in under a year to promote Grow Up And Blow Away, this time to an even bigger audience, they looked exhausted, anxious, and a little overwhelmed by the public adulation. One example? Normally nice bassist Josh Winstead freaked out when I brushed his jacket, in all seriousness, telling me not to touch him. It was an awkward moment, maybe a sign of an overworked band or an overdrunk reporter. In all fairness, I think it was a little of both. (Photo by Brad Fraser)

While fans took it easy on the band the first time around, everyone at the (same) bar knew who they were after an even bigger show, and the Metric members hid out at a corner table most of the night. Shaw and Scott-Key were just as cool as the first time around – affable fellows who still bought the shots and insisted on getting me tipsy. Whereas I had the opportunity to talk with the band before, even dancing and discussing life ambitions with a less-guarded, and less-hounded Haines (who provided me a few Almost Famous moments to stay between her and I), fans who had just seen them play, and who had probably never seen a real-life rock star, wouldn't leave the group alone.

Metric performed little in 2008, perhaps to catch its collective breath as well as record the long-awaited Fantasies, released three-and-a-half years after Live It Out. Finally, it's here, available for preview on MySpace and out in stores on April 14. The band also has multiple sales pitches and formats to buy the physical record on the website.

Fantasies captures a tentative, post-Live It Out Metric. It shoots for the rafters, even making it's ambitions known on the not-so-subtle tracks "Stadium Love" and "Front Row." The production rises up to the challenge, with layered, self-assured professionalism. Only the songs refuse to match that level.

Metric is being too measured on Fantasies, too often scared to give into its rock star ambitions. The ten songs here aren’t overarching in sentiment or sound like arena fillers Coldplay or U2 (not necessarily a bad thing). They are mostly subdued with few exceptions, too cautious to tap into that feeling Metric had on its way to being huge. The first clue is the album cover, a light-bulb shrouded by darkness, cold and distant where Old World Underground... and Live It Out featured vibrant neon colors and cooler-than-thou visuals.

There's little political and societal commentary this time around, a high point from previous outings. Haines' lyrics mostly analyze the successes and pitfalls of the rock star dream, which seemed to slowly take is toll over the last three years. Sadly, like the best Metric single "Dead Disco?" declared, it "has been done."

That reluctance – or is it insecurity? – is all over first single "Help, I'm Alive." "I tremble/They're gonna eat me alive/If I stumble/They're gonna eat me alive," Haines reveals over dark beats, the sound recalling Interpol with a better singer and more keyboards. "Dead Disco" it ain't. "Help, I'm alive/My heart keeps beating like a hammer/Hard to be soft/tough to be tender." It's an accurate portrayal of a rising star facing pressure to be bigger and better than ever.

All too often Metric falls into self-reflection and it makes for lazy songs. If the piano replaced synths, there'd be no mistaking "Twilight Galaxy" or "Collect Call" from anything on Haines' solo material. "Gold Gun Girls," is a less-pretty sister to Live It Out's "Poster of a Girl," without the synth-line hook that made the previous so catchy.

"Gimme Sympathy" is the saving grace on Fantasies, a single as good as any Metric has released and seemingly evoking the days when the four members of the band wanted to be the biggest thing in the world. Haines poses the question: "Who would you rather be?/The Beatles or the Rolling Stones?" We almost wish the band would settle for being The Killers.

There's no doubt this is Metric's most personal record. Maybe the group is trying to separate themselves from the other indie-electro bands out there or let go of some personal baggage. In doing so, the band is ignoring what made it great in the first place: pulse-pounding, ass-shaking, synth-rock with a message.

Frustratingly, Fantasies might just be what it advertises itself as. Metric may be pleased making decent records without fully embracing stardom, leaving dreams of massive, sold-out audiences in the dust. In putting out this type of album so long after new material, four of the best musicians to hang-out with may have given up the a spot at the next level in favor of retaining some semblance of professional and personal space. To Haines and company, that might be more than enough. Fans who expected more might not be so understanding.

Johnston Farrow

SXSW For Free: World of Pandemonium at South By Southwest 2009

2009-03-26T22:17:00.000-07:00

For those who want to read all 10,000-plus words in one go, here's the blog for the San Antonio Current in one, easily accessible spot. The 2009 South By Southwest Music Festival went down as one of my Top Five music experiences ever. It was Spring Break for music fans. I saw over 25 acts, caught some old heroes (Echo and the Bunnymen), witnessed the birth of new ones (White Lies), saw some old friends (Jenn Grant), and met new ones. The best part? The whole thing cost me a total of $140 for food, drinks, parking, and bands seen. I invite anyone to come down to Texas to live SXSW at least once. It's a music pilgrimage that needs to be taken if you're a true audiophile.

Check out my complete, multi-media rundown of South By Southwest. Live in my shoes over those four days to get the entire musical masterpiece of my time spent in Austin, Texas in March 2009.

SXSW For Free - A Primer: The reason for my experiment in cheap music

Day One, Wednesday, March 18 - Akron/Family, Datapop '09 party, The Rub, The Cloud Room, General Fiasco and Carrie Brownstein

Day Two, Thursday, March 19 - Jenn Grant, Viva Voce, The Von Bondies, The Rosebuds and more

Day One and Two Photos - My attempt at photojournalism = never as good as I want it to be. It's why I have friends who are photographers.

Day Three, Friday, March 20, Part One - The Whip, Late of the Pier (brawl with security guards), Razorlight, White Lies

Day Three, Friday, March 20, Part Two - Shiny Toys Guns, M for Montreal, Freeland, Sam Roberts Band

Day Three and Four Videos - White Lies, Razorlight, The Rosebuds, The Von Bondies

Day Four, Saturday, March 21 - Echo and the Bunnymen, the Duke Spirit, and Silversun Pickups

-World of Pandemonium staff

Top 20 Albums of 2008 - Part Four (5-1)

2009-02-13T01:04:00.001-08:00

5. Of Montreal - Skeletal Lamping
www.ofmontreal.net
www.myspace.com/ofmontreal

When we get together/It's always hot magic

Now there's a song lyric to sink your teeth into. Not very often does a frontman of Kevin Barnes' stature come along. The main songwriter for Of Montreal understands the job description more than most. It's there in his continuously changing costumes and make-up, it's in his songs about "black she-males," it's in the manic energy of Skeletal Lamping, a 15-track opus that plays like 50 jammed into less than an hour.

Skeletal Lamping is the disco-love child of Ziggy Stardust. The songs shift from quiet, sparse crawls to bouncy, layered rave-ups, a loose-based concept album about an African-American, transgendered, streetwalker. No kidding. The songs are just as loose as the main subject, jammed with several different ideas in the course of a few minutes. Indie-rock doesn't get more fun and no act weirder made it to the top 40 in 2008.

Tracks such as "An Eluardian Instance" and "Gallery Piece" are hyperkinetic and have the attention span of a Ritalin-dosed pre-teen - melodious and contagious in its pace, coupled with some of the most clever, mischievous, and overtly sexual wordplay this side of a Jarvis Cocker confessional. "I wanna show you off/I wanna tell you lies/I wanna write you books/I wanna turn you on/I wanna make you c**/Two hundred times a day," Barnes tells a lover set to a pulsing electro-dance beat on the latter tune.

Skeletal Lamping comes across as art-hag, highbrow bullshit at times, too many ideas with little direction. But when it works, it is undisputed genius. (See my Top Shows of 2008 for more Of Montreal)

4. MGMT - Oracular Spectacular
www.whoismgmt.com
www.myspace.com/mgmt

If 2008 could be summed up by one artist or band, MGMT would be it. The Brooklyn-duo came out of nowhere to score the leftfield hit of the year, or as I like to call it, the "Crazy" of 2008 with "Time To Pretend." The song of the summer was a sugar-pop, psychedelic treat that put sucrose in the formula the Flaming Lips mastered on 1999's The Soft Bulletin. The acid-drop video hit the airwaves and introduced us to two former art-school hipsters, Andrew Van Wyngarden and Ben Goldwasser, stoners immaculate. By the time the festival season rolled around, indie-rock had two new heroes to call its own.

Surprise, surprise that producer David Fridmann got on board for the full-length, Oracular Spectacular. Fridmann's credits include a who's-who of psych-rock bands from the aforementioned Lips, Mercury Rev, and Mogwai. His production style works to MGMT's positives, bringing out the lushness of synthesizers and adding emotional resonance to songs that could easily have been arrogant dismissives of rockstar lifestyle under the wrong guidance.

Instead, Oracular Spectacular feels as though MGMT are directly linked to the topics they sing of, despite tongues firmly in-cheeks. In the best songs, including "Time To Pretend," the even better "Kids," the Prince-aping "Weekend Wars" and "Electric Feel," WynGarden and Goldwasser poke fun at the world they inhabit, but the tunes are also reflective, constantly pondering their place in the middle of the chaos. It also helps that the duo does it to some of the most unabashedly infectious hooks heard this year, finding a place on the permanent playlist of more than a few converts to their otherworldly universe.

3. Radiohead - In Rainbows
www.inrainbows.com
www.myspace.com/radiohead

Radiohead turned the entire music industry on its head in 2007, releasing In Rainbows online and asking fans to pay what they think was fair for the goods, a giant f***-you to its former label that now whores out the Radiohead catalogue worse than a pimp in debt. The Oxford quintet simply laughed all the way to the bank, claiming to have made more money off In Rainbows than any other album in its catalogue.

Purists who still support their local record store and appreciate physical artwork - like me - waited until January 1, 2008 to snag their copy of what amounted to the best Radiohead album in over a decade. It was so good, even the generally stuffy Grammy voters declared it one of the best albums of the year.

Although critics say it with each subsequent record, this is truly Radiohead's most complete work since OK Computer, perfectly meshing the guitar-driven dynamics of early works with the electronic experimentation of the post-millennium. It also brings back the heartfelt feelings last seen on The Bends. In other words, Thom Yorke actually enunciates(!) songs about, oh-my-gosh, human feelings.

In Rainbows features Radiohead's most accessible songs too, starting with "Jigsaw Falling Into Place" a fierce cousin to "Paranoid Android," a tale of a predator hunting his or her next conquest and/or victim at a nightclub. Ironically, the beat is the closest RH has ever come to filling a dancefloor. "House Of Cards," up for a Rock Performance of the Year Grammy, contains Yorke's most personal lyrics. "15 Steps" starts the album in the vein of the icy, distant Kid A, then kicks into a Jonny Greenwood riff signifying a fresh, new direction - promotionally and musically - that Radiohead fans knew they always had in them.

2. Portishead – Third
www.portishead.co.uk
www.myspace.com/PORTISHEADALBUM3

The greatest band of the trip-hop era let the genre lay dead long enough to make a triumphant return on its own terms. Third couldn't be any more different from the first two Portishead albums, a smart move since a decade had passed since its last album and anything similar to Dummy and Portishead would be construed as a rehash. What was created during an extra-long vacation forgives the wait.

Sinister-siren Beth Gibbons, guitar-effects wizard Adrian Utley and turntable-sampling genius Geoff Barrow came up with a collection of songs as diverse and otherworldly as anything or anyone that came before. It is avant-garde music for modern times, an Autobahn for today. It may not be easy to swallow, but it's smart as hell.

From the harsh, minimal beats of "Machine Gun," to the retro synths of "The Rip," Third is one of those impossibly intelligent albums that requires complete attention from start to finish. Listening to it ups your music IQ by at least 10 points. Let's hope the acclaimed Brighton trio takes its complex comeback on the road in 2009.

1. Cut Copy - In Ghost Colours
www.cutcopy.net
www.myspace.com/cutcopy

It was never in doubt after the first listen. Cut Copy's best record to date, In Ghost Colours, is easily the best of 2008.

What makes a No. 1 album of the year? To me, it's a record that will be listened to and enjoyed ten years from now. It's also the kind of record that, intially, gets many more interview requests from the media than the amount of units sold. As the fervor grows, and as music fans discover the diamond in the rough, the record sales start to outshine media requests. In Ghost Colours is one of those slow-building records.

Want proof? The trio triumphantly toured the States last fall with the Presets, only to immediately plan to do it again this Spring, riding the waves of critical love for the album and high praise for an amazing live show (see my Top Five Shows of 2008 entry).

The Australian act was on the right path with predecessor Bright Like Neon Love, an album some musos thought was too indie for the dance kids, too dance for the indie kids. Those criticisms are long gone with In Ghost Colours, perfectly intertwining the two worlds, aided by a melting pot of your favorite sounds from '80s New Wave ("I Feel The Love"), flourishes from the electro-house movement (sure-fire singles "Hearts On Fire," "Lights and Music"), even shoegaze guitars circa early '90s ("Satellites").

Mix it all together and you have a modern dance masterpiece up there with Duran Duran's Rio, Human League's Dare, Pet Shop Boys' Very, Depeche Mode's Violator, Chemical Brothers' Dig Your Own Hole, and Ladytron's Witching Hour. Like those records, In Ghost Colours is a groundbreaking, electronic album blessed with massive crossover appeal, a launch pad to pop stardom.

Top 20 Albums of 2008 - Part Three (10-6)

2009-02-01T16:26:00.000-08:00

10. British Sea Power - Do You Like Rock Music?
www.britishseapower.co.uk
www.myspace.com/britishseapower

Easily one of the most underrated albums of the year, BSP released Do You Like Rock Music? to some fanfare, only to have them disappear before the summer festival season heated up. To fan of said Rock Music, I say big mistake. This album is a stunner.

More accessible than BSP's last album Open Season, the third disc in the UK band's tome aims for the rafters of imaginary stadiums, the ambition of U2 in a land without ego where singer Yan and brother Hamilton (First names only? OK, maybe a little ego...) sing tales of revolutions intertwined with nature iconography. "Waving Flags" is the song Bono and company wish they could write nowadays, "All In It" and "No Lucifer" wouldn't be out of place on an Arcade Fire album (Do You Like… was produced by Arcade Fire producer Howard Bilerman), and fans of Sigur Rôs wouldn't feel out of place with the instrumental "Great Skua."

The thing that makes British Sea Power great is the group doesn't sound like any other, creating music that could double as soundtrack for the National Geographic channel. It recalls the Arctic sun, the great oceans, the outdoors. Songs titles include words such as skies, island, ground, trip, atom. All of it contributes to pieces that feel organic and in grandiose without any rock star attitude. Do I like rock music? If it's like this, then the answer is a wholehearted "yes."

9. Destroyer – Trouble In Dreams
http://troubleindreams.com
www.myspace.com/destroyer

One of my picks for best Canadian alternative album of the year, Dan Bejar of the New Pornographers may have one-upped NP frontman and main songwriter A.C. Newman in the solo disc sweepstakes, creating an record of wholly original songs that mesh echoes of Bowie, The Cure, and Bejar’s regular gig into a melting pot of sheer goodness.

This one definitely caught me by surprise. The angular, diverse tunes sneak up on you. One might start as a hushed lovelorn lullaby, only to evolve into a space-guitar epic. The next features several parts, layered with melody. "Foam Hands," "Dark Leaves Form A Thread," and "Shooting Rockets (From The Desk Of The Night's Ape)" are much more experimental in structure than anything made by the New Pornographers and they are all the better for it, gaining breadth and beauty without constraint.

8. The Whip - X Marks Destination
thewhip.net
www.myspace.com/thewhipmanchester

Many critics sorely overlooked this Manchester band in the indie-dance sweepstakes last year. Part New Order, part party-starters, the Whip had the multitudes moving under the discoball in 2008. Technically, it started with 2007 singles "Trash," and "Frustration," (both on my best 10 songs for 2007 list) but it continued the following year with top-notch bangers "Sister Siam," and "Blackout." All the songs on the full-length had the potential to be singles, the only shortcoming being decidedly Bernard Sumner-like lyrics (aka clunky) from frontman Danny Saville that might have carried the Whip to the next level on the electro-pop ladder.

While it's not hard to figure out why X Marks Destination didn't sell a boatload of copies - it's way too beat-oriented - this is the kind of album DJs love to play and hipsters share in secret. That could easily make it the Whip's equivalent to Cut Copy's Bright Like Neon Love, a sign of even better things to come once this four-piece gets a taste for full-time recording and playing live on a regular basis. Heed my words, people. This band is going places.

7. Kaiser Chiefs - Off With Their Heads
www.kaiserchiefs.co.uk
www.myspace.com/kaiserchiefs

How do you get older, wiser, and better without becoming too serious? The UK-based Kaiser Chiefs tackle this question following sophomore slump Yours Truly, Angry Mob, which traded the upbeat fun of stellar debut Employment for stuffy mediocrity. Off With Their Heads is a return to form, bringing back the rush of hit singles "I Predict A Riot," and "Everyday I Love You Less And Less" with killer tracks such as "Never Miss a Beat" and "Can’t Say What I Mean."

Give credit to über-producer Mark Ronson (Amy Winehouse, Lily Allen), who infuses the record with a healthy dose of rhythm, horns, and electronic flourishes that play to the band's Kinks and the Jam influences. The hard work of this talented quintet wins out, however, with consistent songwriting empowering a satirical look at youth culture and politics, making Off With Their Heads as close to Blur masterpiece Parklife as they've ever come. [Taken from my review in the San Antonio Current]

6. Midnight Juggernauts - Dystopia
www.midnightjuggernauts.com
www.myspace.com/midnightjuggernauts

Australian trio Midnight Juggernauts filled the indie-electro fix for many in early-2008. More importantly, Dystopia signified a changing of the guard in the electronic world from the Northern Hemisphere (mostly the UK and France) to Down Under as the place to go for beat-driven beauty.

Starting like many great electro-pop bands, Midnight Juggernauts gained notoriety as great remixers. The release of a few great singles just built up anticipation, namely "Tombstone," a vocoderized killer that found its way into the setlist of any indie-dance DJ that knew any better.

What followed was a high-water mark for cool-as-shit Modular Records until another one of the bands on its roster stepped up and claimed the status of best synth-rock band on the planet (you'll have to wait and see who sits at No.1). Front-to-back, Dystopia is simply a great album, loaded with amazing songs made for late nights and early mornings. Like Daft Punk converged with the dreaminess of Air, "Nine Lives," "Into the Galaxy," "45 and Rising," and "Safari World" were some of the sexiest and exciting songs to party to during the past year.

What did Midnight Juggernauts get in reward for their efforts? Only an opening slot on the biggest dance tour of the year with Justice and a successful headlining U.S. jaunt that proved guitar-flavored electronic music is far from dead. It's only getting better, smarter, and way more fun.

Top 20 Albums of 2008 - Part Two (15-11)

2009-01-31T13:03:00.000-08:00

15. Chad VanGaalen – Soft Airplane
www.chadvangaalen.com
www.myspace.com/chadvangaalen

Beautifully, unabashedly lo-fi, Calgary’s Chad Van Gaalen put out one of the prettiest sounding records of the last year with Soft Airplane. That he recorded it in his basement on a boombox set-up is even more amazing. The intricacy and layered melodies are a joy to behold. Perhaps the best thing about Soft Airplane is how VanGaalen - an artist to the core that often animates his own videos - incorporates electronic beats, indie-pop and experimental sounds into his bite-sized snippets of songs. The best here, "Cries of the Dead," "TMNT," and "Molten Light" are at once catchy and melancholy intimate. Don't be surprised if VanGaalen comes out of the basement to win the Juno (Canadian Grammy) for Alternative Album of the Year.

14. Ladytron – Volicifero
www.ladytron.nettwerk.com
www.myspace.com/ladytron

Ladytron continues to release stellar electro-pop with Volicifero, a more rock-n-roll companion piece the shoegaze-esque touchstone Withching Hour. Like Depeche Mode fronted by two female vocalists, Ladytron does the icy-cool synth-rock better than most these days. "Ghosts" features the ethereal vocals of Helena Marnie (who I openly and unashamedly confess to wishing I could have her babies) and the sweetest fuck-off of a chorus this past year. "Runaway," could easily be a classic from the mid-80s new wave radio heydey, and Mira Aroyo lets the Eastern European accent fly on "Black Kat," bringing forth memories of Kraftwerk, godfathers of the electronic music movement.

Word is the group heads out on tour with Depeche Mode this Spring when the Mode releases its new album. Let's hope Martin Gore, Dave Gahan, and Andy Flecther know a good thing when they see it and ask the UK-quartet to stay on for the entire world tour run. [On knees and praying to music gods] Please let Ladytron come to Texas when Depeche Mode comes back…please let Ladytron come to Texas when Depeche Mode comes back…

13. Hot Chip - Made In The Dark
www.hotchip.co.uk
www.myspace.com/hotchip

After the barnstorming second album The Warning, Hot Chip suffered from a slight case of "What to do next?" Would they continue pumping out the dancefloor definers like "Over and Over," or "And I Was A Boy From School"? Or would they take things in an altogether different direction? The answer was a little of both.

Made In The Dark combined the intelligent beats of The Warning with a new interest in '70s soul, intertwining the British quartet's sense of fun with a more mature sound, never losing what made Hot Chip interesting in the first place. Songs "Ready For The Floor," "Out at the Pictures," and "Shake A Fist" are in the vein of thise that launched a thousand indie-dance nights around the world. Meanwhile, "In The Privacy Of Our Love," and the title-track recall Marvin Gaye or Al Green, bringing some mellow sensitivity to the party, proof that Hot Chip are far from a one-trick pony.

11 and 12. Los Campesinos - Hold On Now, Youngster & We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed
www.loscampesinos.com
www.myspace.com/loscampesinos

Who said a band has to wait three years in to put out a new record? Los Campesinos of Cardiff, Wales put out two within eight months of each other and both deserve to be mentioned on any Best of 2008 list. Hold On Now, Youngster is exactly as it sounds: mischevious, upbeat and danceable, it's the ADHD-affected kid brother you can't help but love. We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed serves up the darker half, the inevitable fallout of a relationship gone bad, the sign that things may not be as joyful as they seemed in the first place.

The tie that binds the two albums together is the propulsive, breakneck speed, a multitude of layered instruments (glockenspiel!) and lyricist Gareth Campesino. On both discs, Gareth C. proves himself to be one of indie-pop's finest new wordsmiths with the ability to spin cheeky tales love, loss, and the grand eroticism of stationary, not unlike a young disciple of Morrissey or Jarvis Cocker. Check out "You! Me! Dancing!," "My Year In Lists," and "2007, The Year Punk Rock Broke My Heart," from Hold On Now... and "Miseribilia," "Ways To Make It Through The Wall," and "The End of the Asterisk" from We Are Beautiful... for examples of how fun, enthralling indie-pop should be done.

Top 20 Albums of 2008 - Part 1 (20-16)

2009-01-29T10:46:00.000-08:00

I know, this is kinda late, but it took me awhile to sift through all the music I listened to this past year. I only have one rule associated with this list: I must have listened to the entire album. If I only heard bits and pieces of the record, it doesn’t count. I will have the Tracks of 2008 for you soon.

I really didn't listen to as many albums as in previous years because I was so busy DJing in the early half of 2008 that I became one of those persons who downloaded a lot of individual songs. That didn't stop me from hearing some great records, however.

I'm posting my Top 20 over the next few days because I've written so much about each album and I have some to finish. Enjoy!

20. The Dears - Missiles
www.thedears.org
www.myspace.com/thedears

Fair warning to the uninitiated: Montreal's The Dears don't do radio singles. Only one song in ten clocks in at less than four minutes, but with Missiles, patience is a virtue. Those weaned on sugar-candy power-pop singles probably won't get it. The Dears are the chocolate mousse of alt acts: rich, thick, and for those with advanced musical palettes. Opener "Disclaimer" mirrors the brightness of Manchester's Doves. "Lights Off" shares — maybe even steals — the dramatic dissonance of Radiohead's "Paranoid Android." Some songs drone on too long and miss the mark, but when they hit, Missiles is pure, refined magic (Taken from my review in the San Antonio Current).

19. Black Mountain - In The Future
www.blackmountainarmy.com
www.myspace.com/blackmountain

No band creates dark, moody, atmospheric rock straight from the 70s like Vancouver's Black Mountain. The title of the album is a misnomer. This collection could easily be mistaken for a long-lost Black Sabbath album. That said, it's as intelligent as anything Tool released, it's as riff-driven as anything Queens of the Stone Age produced, and offers an intoxicating mix of neo-psychedelia and arena-sized hooks that almost makes you wonder where you stored the old hooka. Check out the 16-minute-plus "Bright Lights" or 8-minute-plus "Tyrants" and get your smoke on. Neither are boring and both will make D&D fans geek the fuck out, just like the rest of In The Future.

18. Crystal Castles – self-titled
www.crystalcastles.org
www.myspace.com/crystalcastles

The best in 8-bit, glitch-pop madness from 2008 or maybe ever, Toronto-based duo Crystal Castles specialize in producing electro straight from the world of Nintendo circa 1986. Add rock star antics to the mix and you have one memorable duo, with a Glastonbury appearance that will go down as being one of the first times security nearly kicked a performer out of the show for being too rowdy. Thanks goes to Alice Glass, who plays the bratty lead singer, climbing amplifiers and crowd surfing to the point of crowd control guard overload. All this would be for naught, however, if it wasn't for the beats of Ethan Kath that recall the best of the Atari invasion. While Crystal Castles remixes might be a little better, its self-titled debut on the great Last Gang label proves that a little bit of anarchy with retro stylings can be a damn fine thing.

17. Duffy – Rockferry
www.iamduffy.com
www.myspace.com/duffymyspace

The best record produced by former Suede guitar wunderkind Bernard Butler in 2008 (sorry, Black Kids), Duffy far exceeded her "non-crackhead Amy Winehouse" status on Rockferry. Think Dusty Springfield for today's listeners and you aren't far off, delving into '60s-inspired horns and blue-eyed soul. "Mercy," "Stepping Stone," and the album-titled single deservedly pushed her into the Top 5 of UK and American pop charts. Whenever good music (produced by my favorite guitarist of all time) beats Britney, Xtina, Rhianna and other Top 40 radio pap-crap artists at their own game, it's reason to celebrate.

16. Verve - Forth
www.theverve.co.uk
www.myspace.com/theverve

While some fans wished the return of the Verve would have been as big as their anticipation for new material, the Wigan, UK band delivered exactly the type of music that earned them those fans in the first place: a record of psychedelic soul and heart-strung ballads. "Love Is Noise" is just as good as anything on the now-classic Urban Hyms and "Valium Skies" and "Sit and Wonder" harken the slow-burn tracks from A Northern Soul. Forth may be lower on the totem pole in terms of Verve albums, but its vintage Richard Ashcroft and company, meaning it's better with them than without.

World of Pandemonium's Top Five Shows of 2008

2009-01-14T22:14:00.000-08:00

5. Metal Disco/Panic/Fuck Yeah DJ nights – The Seahorse/Tribeca/Limelight – Halifax, Nova Scotia (first two)/San Antonio, TX – Once a month/Once a month/Every Thursday

Nothing is better than playing your favorite music – in my case, Brit-pop and indie-dance - to a crowded club with your friends. It's like cigarettes and alcohol (when I smoked cigarettes). Some things are just meant to go together.

When I left Halifax, I left my two DJ monthlies behind. The talented men I played with, Double A, Tony Haze, and Loukas made these nights something to look forward to and everyone who attended had a good time. Since then, I find myself thinking of those guys way more than a dude should. Jager bombs, pretty women, great music. What more can a boy ask for, really?

When I unceremoniously got stuck in San Antonio for an indefinite time, I found Fuck Yeah!, the sister DJ night to Metal Disco, quickly making friends with the four DJs there. Although I've taken a brief hiatus from the tables to concentrate on my writing and teaching career, it's nice to know there are others out there who appreciate good music, cute girls and Jager-bombs as much as I do.

4. Midnight Juggernauts – Bowery Ballroom, New York City, New York, May 9

Five days in New York City this past May blew my mind, the pinnacle being a fantastic show by Modular Records act Midnight Juggernauts, successfully finishing up their first headlining U.S. tour. You know, the one they did after touring with a little French duo called Justice.

When the indie-dance trio hit the stage, no one really knew what to expect. Half the audience firmly cemented themselves in place, arms crossed, daring the band to impress them. By the time the band got halfway through the live version of its fantastic and highly recommended debut, Dystopia, it was a full-on East Coast party with people dancing up a storm, the floorboard almost buckling from the weight of thrashing limbs.

Adding to the experience was the Bowery Ballroom, a Gothic auditorium with a beautiful vaulted-ceiling and cooler-than-thou basement bar. The fact we got to see one of my fave new bands in what might as well be called the Center of the Universe (aka New Yok City) was just icing on the cake. It was a memorable night that almost didn’t happen. When I went to the box office on the day of the show to pick up tickets, they told me I had bought the last three. Thank you, music gods.

See a short clip of MJ performing at this show here and see some pics here.

3. Nine Inch Nails – AT&T Center, San Antonio, Texas, October 23

Trent Reznor and company embarked on what can only be called their most artsy-fartsy tour yet aka Lights In The Sky Tour 2008. We always knew Rezzie had it him to go all performance piece on us, and finally he let the inner muso out, leaving much of the angsty rocker at home. It most likely pissed off the goateed, baseball-cap-wearing testosterone dudes in attendance. And that's kind of awesome.

Strangely, the art-bent made the show even better. It incorporated a massive, three-tiered light screen, a multitude of electronic-, woodwind-, and string-based instruments, and a set that varied from hardcore (he did play some of the radio stompers like "Closer," "March of the Pigs," "Terrible Lie," "Head Like A Hole") to the slow-building, non-vocal numbers that made up a big portion of the last few Nine Inch Nail records.

It was a show for a true NIN fan and music fan in general as the digital art, the sheer grandiosity of the technology involved, and a sober, buff-as-hell, "I'm gonna rock your face off in an intellectual way" Reznor made for a spectacle to behold. Over two hours long, spanning the entire NIN catalogue, it's the kind of tour that Nine Inch Nails could only do at this point in the group's career.

Check out my initial review for the San Antonio Current (great photos by my old friend Justin Parr) and several videos here and here.

2. Cut Copy/Presets, Emo's Lounge, Austin, TX, September 29

The guys responsible for the best record of the year with In Ghost Colours (yay, British spelling!) also put on one of the best shows of the year. Along with the nearly-as-excellent Presets, Cut Copy destroyed all expectations with a hot, sweaty and packed show. On a Monday, no less!

The second and third Modular Records acts on this Top Five list teamed up for easily the best indie-dance extravaganza of '08. You know when you go to a show and have an inkling it has a chance to be a badass concert, but you're too afraid to admit it openly, only to get more excited as your friends talk about it? This was one of those shows.

I purchased two tickets early, knowing it was going to be sweet and quite possibly sold-out early. Little did I know, but no tickets were left weeks before. I was quite in love with In Ghost Colours well before the date, so I handed out a few burned copies to friends. I practically had to beg people to come with me to the show when I first bought the tickets. After those friends got a listen of some of Cut Copy's catalogue, they couldn't call me fast enough to be my plus-one. My roommate was left out in the cold, but came anyway, determined to buy entry from a scalper, something that ran him $30 more than the original ticket price. It was worth it.

We were actually the first in line, accidentally skipping a group of underagers who were totally geeked out about the show. We sympathetically let them in first, and scored an amazing spot by the soundboard, situated on a platform near the backdoor of the club. We could see the stage over everyone clearly and we had many douchebags trying to push their way into our territory during the show. Remember people, elbows out, feet spread apart. It works every time.

The Presets, a headliner at any other show, almost stole the night with sharp, dancefloor jams from their disc Apocolypso, the venue shoulder-to-shoulder with younger university students, wannabe rave kids (leave the wings and glitter at home, dude), and in-closet-audiophiles dressed as young professionals.

This show also had the distinction of being the drunkest I got at a music event in 2008 and by the time Cut Copy appeared on stage, the double rum-and-cokes were working their magic. I haven't danced that much like an idiot since warehouse parties were still legal in the Nineties. The last half of the Aussie band's set was a blur, but by that point it didn't matter. My love for all things electro-indie influenced had more than been justified.

Check out my initial review below this entry and videos taken at the show here and a bad sounding one here.

1. Of Montreal – The Grand Ballroom, San Francisco, November 21

While Brooklyn Vegan detailed the Skeletal Lamping tour much better than I could, I'll try to sum it up. This concert included lead singer Kevin Barnes in multiple (it seemed like three dozen) costume changes including a sparkling speedo and little else, red body paint (above) and neck-to-toe shaving cream; a full theatre troupe doing set-pieces to individual songs; two big video screens with digital art for each track during the two-hour-plus set; a pope having his feet washed by a naughty nun; a centaur; golden bhuddas; ninjas; secret agent commandos; and a cover version of "Smells Like Teen Spirit" that got a response maybe even bigger than when Nirvana did it. Phew!

That's just the tip of the iceberg.

I admit, I'm a little leery when it comes to experimental outfits (Animal Collective, Panda Bear, Plants and Animals, anyone who records while smoking pot) and I had only heard some of Of Montreal before I deemed them pretentious art students trying to express their inner Dali-cum-Bowie. Boy, was I wrong.

Yes, there is the Dali and Bowie thing going on, but no time ever have I seen such intricate work done to represent Barnes' live versions of his songs. These guys would be lucky to each take home $20 a show based on the amount of people, props, and details jammed into this show. In the end, they left an indelible imprint on my mind and made an instant fan of any music snob (like me) who needed convincing to go.

Add to that, it was San Francisco, the Grand Ballroom was as grand as it's namesake, everyone there obviously loved music, and the buzz was palpable afterwards as in "Holy sh**, that was sof***ingawesome," a concert that will go down as one of the finest, most creative and downright fun that anyone lucky to see it had ever attended. It was that good and that's why it was easily the best show I saw in 2008.

Check out some pics of the tour here and here.

Random Review: Cut Copy and The Presets at Emo's, Austin, TX - September 29, 2008

2008-10-02T21:12:00.000-07:00

Cut Copy at Emo's in Austin, Texas, Sept. 29, 2008 (Thanks to Robert)
Monday night I headed an hour northward to the grand city of Austin to see one of my current favorite bands, Cut Copy, play a show with another great Australian act, The Presets. I’m feel like I’m still recovering from the hangover of what was one of the best shows I’ve seen this year.

Both are Modular Records stalwarts, having criss-crossed the globe many a-time. Cut Copy’s In Ghost Colours went straight to No. 1 on the Aussie pop charts when it came out earlier this year, and The Presets released one of the most played records at indie-dance nights of 2008 in Apocalypso.

Joined by my friends Jasmine and Robert (who paid $45 to a scalper to get into the sold-out show), we arrived at the venue at 8:30 p.m., thinking the show started at 9 p.m. Instead, it started at 10, the doors opening at 9:00. We wound up being the first people in the club and scored a sweet spot on the balcony overlooking the dancefloor, right next to the soundbooth, ensuring a great view and great sound.

The show didn’t start for another hour and a half, over which time we achieved an appropriate buzz and got to watch Emo’s fill up from just a few diehard fans up front, to a packed joint, with hardly any room to move.

Finally, at 10:30 p.m., The Presets came on stage to rapturous applause, and they immediately ripped into "Are You The One?" from the great Beams (a record I've been playing for a few years in my DJ sets), a song that got the crowd going even more. The duo played a large assortment of songs from that album and Apocalypso, set in front of an amazing light and video display (see pictures).

The Presets = a headliner at any other show
The Presets played for about an hour, the only miscue when a Moog synth didn’t pick up the bass and the sound tech turned the entire sound system off in the process of fixing things. By the time the two got on stage and finished their last three songs, no one cared.

The only complaint from my end is that The Presets use way too many samples in their live set. Most of the time it was one guy playing the drums and another singing. Whereas bands like the Midnight Juggernauts do everything live, even though it is with a large bank of electronics. Regardless, the energy stayed high and everyone loved it. I especially loved the pink jacket lead singer Julian Hamilton wore.

Then it was time for the band I came for. Cut Copy showed up after about a half-hour of soundchecks and immediately hit us up with "Nobody Lost, Nobody Found," playing a large amount of Bright Like Neon Love and In Ghost Colours throughout the set. Perhaps the best moment of the night came when the four-piece (one additional live musician in addition to the regular trio) launched into one of my contenders for single of 2008, "Lights and Music," a song that was so apt for the entire night's proceedings. And of course, the other big single "Hearts on Fire" came in the encore, but the crowd had lost its shit long before that and the club erupted into one writhing mass of drunken humanity.

Cut Copy showed why they are one of the best indie-dance acts around
At several points, I thought I was at a rave circa 1998, with several dressed in latex, creatively gaudy make-up, and platform boots prancing about. It made me feel a tad old, but when the concert was in full swing, it was apparent that most of the crowd aged in the mid-20s range.

Much of that has to do with the sound of both bands. Both harken the best of 80s synth bands, including Duran Duran, New Order, and Depeche Mode, but they also draw heavily on late 90s electronica, including flourishes of techno, trance and a heavy dose of current electro. It made for what was the best overall indie-dance show I've ever seen live and we left not one ounce disappointed, save for the fact that we couldn’t afford a t-shirt after one too many Jager shots and double rum and cokes.

Live Rating:
9.5 out of 10 Microphones.
Hangover:
9 out of 10 Excedrin
Memory Maker:
8 out of 10 Shoulda Been Theres

New Killers and why it matters

2008-09-26T02:22:00.000-07:00

New Killers album Day & Age + Produced by Stuart Price AKA Jacques Lu Cont AKA motherfucking Les Rhythmes Digitales = Return to Form.

Get the new single here:

From HYPE MACHINE

Story on the album, courtesy of Rolling Stone:

Fall Music Preview

The Great North Observatory - Tales of A Canadian in America, "Money Burns the Political Theatre"

2008-09-26T01:41:00.001-07:00

NOTE: I've decided to start a new feature called The Great North Observatory, where I discuss the latest topics in American current events from the viewpoint of an outsider, ie. Canadian.

***
Man, oh, man. America is fucked.

Since I moved back to the United States in May, I’ve watched the race for a new leader unfold. It’s been fascinating stuff. From the drama of the Obama-Clinton Democratic primaries, to the addition of Sarah “I love killing moose and drilling for oil” Palin, this has been better than an episode of (old) Beverly Hills, 90210.

Although Republican nominee John McCain had gained some ground on Barack (I feel like I can call him Barack) in the last couple of weeks, the sudden fear in the financial sector has everyone back on the “fire the entire party” mentality.

The recent Presidential address concerning the state of finances in the U.S. is like a cherry on the top of the most messed up eight-layered cake ever. It just might have been the nail in the coffin for the Republican party for at least another eight years when the first black President will have to clean up the mess of some rich, white Southerners. The irony is as thick as molasses.

The fact that Wubya had to go on national television and tell the American people that they face serious dangers of losing a crap load of their investments (including retirement funds), asking them to be okay with a $700 billion infusion of tax money to greedy Wall Street financial companies, AFTER spending well over $550 billion on an unjustified war in Iraq (not counting the costs of Afghanistan war), is simply bonkers.

Even better, the best part came the day before the huge meeting of the minds in Washington on Thursday, when John McCain announced that he planned to stop campaigning, asked Barack to push back the Presidential and Vice-Presidential debates.

At first glance, this appeared to be a move to prove his political leadership, placing the crisis of a nation over campaigning (he also backfired with Hurricane Gustav, and victims of Hurricane Ike are still waiting for those prayers from the neo-con caucus). Upon closer inspection, this could have been the worst thing to happen to the McCain movement. The country is unmistakably in shambles at the hands of a Republican President he agreed with 90 percent of the time.

Throw in that McCain may have had ties to Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae, two of the financial institutions that helped cause all this mess, and it’s a clear sign that this is a man who had to pull a desperate move in order to spend time, covering up his tracks. If it comes out McCain had anything to do with these two companies, his campaign goes up in smoke. No wonder he stopped campaigning and booked it to Washington.

I’m quite surprised that the worst President ever voted by historians didn’t try to use the address as a means to pump up McCain’s election push. It’s the sort of thing he’s had no shame in doing before in times of national adversity. It’s the first time in eight years that the Republicans have come out and clearly stated that they have led the United States into tailspin - no right-wing, neo-conservative BS to serve up as excuses this time.

Meanwhile, Obama handled his position in the whole matter as cool as Isaac Hayes. He's not coming out and saying the Republicans are fuck-ups. He's letting it do it themselves. That Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson got down on his freaking knee and BEGGED House Speaker and Democrat Nancy Pelosi to abstain from pointing out the faults of Republicans, even admitting the party messed up royally, is something that can't be ignored or explained away by the CNN and Fox television pundits of the world. I just wonder what’s going through the heads of Bill O’Reilly and Lou Dobbs right now. They probably haven’t slept a wink tonight.

While this whole financial snafu could really screw a lot of regular Americans, I understand why the Democrats are happy to let the $700 billion rescue package fall by the wayside. Why not let the Republican-led country, so drunk on power and righteous attitude, hit bottom and be there to pick up the nation when the election rolls around?

The last time something of this magnitude happened, a Democrat named Franklin Roosevelt was elected to power for four terms. While there will not be a second coming of the Great Depression (the U.S. is still way too rich for that), the next five years will be a time of great change in this country. Like Barack said, if you’re not happy with the way things are going, you can fire the whole lot of them in November.

Status Single - Waiting For Something That's Not Going To Happen

2008-09-19T17:25:00.000-07:00

Over the past several years, I have met and got to know several women on a friendly and more-intimate level. All were fascinating in their own right, with much to offer in way of interests, compassion, and fun times. Hardly any of them stuck around much longer than a few months.

I chalk part of this up to my pickiness when letting someone of the opposite sex into my life. I know what I’m looking for and I know how I want it to feel when I meet someone special. I know right away whether she will not only make me happier, but will also enrich the days ahead.

On the other hand, there are times when I lead myself into believing that someone is the one for me, even when she doesn’t remotely feel close in the same way. Whether it’s timing, or clash of personalities, or different goals in life, there have been those destined to be merely persons-in-passing. It took me a long time to be OK with that idea.

The worst thing is when someone falls for another without equal reciprocation. The two may be compatible beyond measure, yet one-half can’t ever give themselves completely to the relationship. The person in question isn't able to show or build on the love with the other because of something beyond their control, something that holds them back from being truly happy with someone.

***
She was a dream. The kind that sneaked up on you, coming from nowhere to bite you, hold on to you hard, only letting go when you gave up to her charms. Her name was Shana* and I had known her for some time before I really noticed she was there. When I did notice, I my insides went soft. I became the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters, a boy with knees made of Jell-o.

One night, Shana invited me to meet her at her place of employment. From there, we’d go for drinks. I really didn’t think anything of it when she initially made the offer. Drinks turned into nightcaps at her place, where she showed me pictures of her many travels and adventures. Her passion for her friends and family, her pursuit of discovery, of better things, made me want to kiss her that night, but I wasn’t sure if was safe to cross the line of friendship we had for so long. I respected her. We did the same thing again another night - no passes made, just good fun and conversation.

Later that next week, in the middle of a dinner party, it hit me. I missed her. I wanted to see her. I texted her and let her know. We made plans to get together the next day. We saw each other almost every day the next three months.

Almost instantly I felt stronger for Shana than anyone who had come before her in a long time. It wasn’t something I had to convince myself of, unlike some women (You know what I’m talking about: you’re going out with someone for a few months and you ask yourself, "I've been with XXX for so long, do I love them? I could love them. Maybe I should love them. Hell, I'll just go ahead and be in love with them." The expiry date of this kind of relationship is shorter than a gallon of milk.).

The connection we had was more than a casual fling. The sex was intense and life affirming. Our time spent together felt as natural as breathing air. She made me spontaneous. She liked to do the same things. She always had cool stuff to talk about. For the first time in a long while, I felt ecstatic about someone. And it was good.

Those first months we never argued, but I always questioned what was going on in her mind. She was a complex person and I sort of got off on that. She was very afraid to show emotion, to tell me she cared about me. When she did, neurons exploded in my head and made me fall for her even harder. I desperately wanted to hear that she wanted me, needed me in her life. I desperately wanted to tell her back, but any time I began to talk about my feelings, she just deflected the topic.

Still, I knew. I knew how she felt about me. I knew she wanted me around as much as I wanted her. I knew when she was scared and when she wanted nothing more than an embrace. I knew when she was happy as I was to be together. I felt it burning inside.

Only, she was her own worst enemy. On a deeper personal level, a place that I only saw flashes of, she wasn’t ready to open up, 100 percent, to anyone. She could barely handle her own emotions, let alone sharing them with some guy. Despite the fact she spent five nights a week in my bed, she wasn’t ever completely there.

Around the dreaded three-month mark, I knew what was up. It ate away at me to know the person I was enamored with couldn’t ever commit for fear of what I might think about her or how she felt about herself. I tried talking to her about this problem, and she began to push me away. She couldn’t deal with it. The insecurity destroyed what could have been life-altering relationship.

Just as the feelings for Shana snuck up on me, so did the final conclusion - I knew I was waiting for something that was not going to happen.

Eventually, I called things off, understanding that I would only be putting myself through torture if we stayed together. Letting Shana go was one of the most difficult things I had to do. Having mutual friends made it even tougher. When I saw her out on the town, I wanted to shake the fear out of her, I wanted to kiss the pain away, and I wanted to forget about all of the mind-blowing sex!

Looking back, I learned a lot from Shana. I learned that love is not only about commitment, it’s also about timing. More importantly, it was allowing someone see the light as well as the dark, and loving them nonetheless.

While this piece is about one person I spent a short time with, it could easily be about me. There were women who wanted me in their life, only to be pushed away due to a deep-seeded fear of letting someone in. They were waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen. I never want to put anyone through that, ever again.

*not her real name, of course

Way Better Than Your Song Wednesdays - The Dandy Warhols, "Bohemian Like You"

2008-09-17T10:53:00.000-07:00

It's always cheeky when a band can get hipsters to dance to songs that poke fun at them. Regardless of the song's message, sometimes the hooks are just too undeniable to resist. Just look at the commercial appeal of Top 40 radio if you need proof.

That's what the Dandy Warhols pull off with "Bohemian Like You," a song that rips on vegan-loving, low-end job working, drug-ingesting scenesters, set to a propulsive, Rolling Stones-esque riff. These types of songs are also what the Dandy Warhols do best. Hailing from the indie-band hotbed Portland, Oregon, the Dandies know this subject first-hand because they are no more than scenesters with guitars.

This quintet of impossibly cool musicians - the lead singer is named Courtney Taylor-Taylor for chrissakes - first gained fame for a contagious three-minute ode to the ill effects of heroin named "Not If You Were the Last Junkie On Earth." The video featured people dancing in needle costumes and the fact that it was played to death on college radio and even on MTV sent the band's indie cred soaring, despite the trying-way-too-hard band moniker.

The other singles from the corresponding album, Come On Feel…The Dandy Warhols didn't hurt either. Blasts of melody driven tongue-in-cheek excellence were found with "Boys Better," and "Everyday Should Be A Holiday". Add to that a hot alterna-chick keyboardist who insisted getting topless on-stage when the dudes did, and you had a group that was suddenly playing at all the major European festivals.

Next up came the Sundance Film Festival buzz documentary Dig!. It followed the lives of the Dandies and their one-time friend/now rivals in the Brian Jonestown Massacre, the film captured the Warhols in all their glory, rising from relative unknowns to music journo faves by doing what they do best - being rock stars.

The cameras watched as the Dandies toured the West Coast circuit, playing shows and doing drugs with the Jonestown boys, aping that band's lead singer Anton Newcombe's publicity inducing shenanigans. Only the Dandies did a few things different than the Massacre – they didn’t overdo the drug ingestion and they remained friends with each other throughout it all. Major labels came calling and the Warhols were on their way to being music's next, well, Andy Warhol.

The pinnacle of their career (so far) came with the release of 13 Tales of Urban Bohemia and first single "Bohemian Like You," a song that went Top 10 in several European countries and became a staple not only on alternative radio, but on the playlists of indie-rock DJs everywhere.

SONG
US Chart Position: #28 Modern Rock
UK Chart Position: #42/#5 in '01

Check it out at the Dandies Myspace page HERE.

LYRICS

You’ve got a great car,
Yeah, whats wrong with it today?
I used to have one too,
Maybe you’ll come and have a look.
I really love your hairdo,yeah,
I’m glad you like my do,
See were looking pretty cool, getcha.

So what do you do?
Oh yeah, I wait tables too.
No I haven’t heard your band,
’Cause you guys are pretty new.
But if you dig on vegan food,
Well come over to my work,
I’ll have them cook you something that youll really love,

’Cause I like you,
Yeah, I like you,
And I’m feeling so bohemian like you,
Yeah, I like you,
Yeah, I like you,
And I feel wahoo, wooo

Wohoo hoo hoo x4

Wait,
Who’s that guy,
Just hanging at your pad.
Hes looking kinda blah,
Yeah, you broke up that’s too bad.
I guess its fair if he always pays the rent,
And he doesn’t get bent about sleeping on the couch when I’m there,

Cause I like you,
Yeah I like you,
And I’m feeling so bohemian like you.
Yeah I like you,
Yeah I like you,
And I feel wahoo, woooo
Wohoo hoo hoo x4

I’m getting wise,
And I’m feeling so bohemian like you,
It’s you that I want so please,
Just a causal, casual easy thing.
It isn’t? It is for me.
And I like you,
Yeah I like you,
And I like you, I like you, I like you, I like you, I like you, I like you
I like you.
And I feel wahoo, woooo
Wohoo hoo hoo x4

VIDEOS

Sing-along with the NSFW (eg. nakedness), karaoke-style video:

And one of the most hilarious videos ever:

The Dandy Warhols, “Not If You Were the Last Junkie On Earth”

Status Johnston Update 1.0

2008-09-12T01:39:00.000-07:00

Most of you are probably wondering what the hell happened to me since I moved away from Halifax. And you have every right to think, ‘shit, this dude fell off the Earth.’

A lot has gone down since I got in my overly-stuffed Cavalier (try to find a hammer in the dark in the Virginian woods in a car that is full of personal items and see how long it takes you until you want to set it all on fire...) in May and set off across Canada and the continental United States on my way to Texas. Allow me to fill you in.

I made my way to Texas (in a travel blog I vow to complete one day), only to find myself pretty broke, not taking into account that I would have to pay so many tolls and so much in gas prices along the way. Never in my life as an fossil fuel been so expensive.

Basically, London was off until I could save enough money to live comfortably there. In actuality, London was off because I fell in love with New York City. That, and several Brits that I met there at a rooftop party on the Lower East Side of Manhattan revealed that a lot of people their age had escaped the Motherland to NYC because it was too damned hard to find a job in London. Coupled with an amazing few days in Brooklyn and a Midnight Juggernauts show at the Bowery Ballroom that was easily the best show I've seen this year (until possibly Cut Copy on Sept. 29 at Emo's in Austin,TX), I was all about living in New York City instead. Surely I’d find a job that was worth anything there, the media capital of the universe.

Then came the loss of identity. Literally.

While on a cruise for my mother’s 50th birthday, all of my personal documentation was either a) stolen; b) left on a phone booth in St. Martin; c) or some other explained disappearance. When I say "all," I mean everything. My passport, my green card, my social security card, and even my birth certificate. The only thing I had to distinguish myself was my Nova Scotia driver’s license.

After being detained in Miami for four hours with 30-odd Haitians who had been smuggled on a boat, I luckily caught my plane in time and arrived in San Antonio with no ID and no job prospects. It could have been quite possibly the lowest point in my life. For the first time, I didn’t know what to do and hadn’t resources to call upon.

With the help of my family members – who really taught me the value of unconditional love – I quickly got back on my feet, slowly started collecting my identity back through multiple long distance phone calls and emails, and wound up with a job at the hospital I once worked at, working for the admitting and registration department, checking in patients in the emergency room.

While it wasn’t what I had initially planned, it has been great to meet up with old friends and get to know those I left behind over seven years ago all over again. New adventures made us even saltier and interesting in our older ages.

Meanwhile, I started thinking about the things that really loved to do – professionally and recreationally – and after a long break, I sent off resumes to the two papers in town. I got offers to do freelance work at both and quite possibly more. I will be writing about music, art, food, and whatever entertainment related topic they want me to write for the San Antonio Current, an alt-weekly much like The Coast in Halifax. The paper has a great staff of intelligent, fun, like-minded individuals. It’s the start of a great personal and work-related friendship. Look for my first article next Wednesday at www.sacurrent.com.

I also started to miss DJing a helluva lot. I missed the crowd, investing my time in music, presenting my favorite acts in a creative manner. I found a bar in town called Limelight that not only had a Brit-pop night like my former monthly Panic! on Tuesdays, but they also had an indie-dance/electro night like my other monthly, Metal Disco, on Thursdays. It was the latter night that I got to know a few of the DJs and we’re currently working on scoring a night somewhere in town in a bigger space to showcase our talents.

One huge lesson I’ve learned up to this point is that no matter where you go, you will find those like you, those that are into the same things as you, those who will accept you as one of their own. When people hear that I’ve been so many places, I encourage them to follow their own dreams and create new adventures, wherever they might be.

History made...

2008-08-28T01:59:00.000-07:00

...and it's about goddamn time.

Status Single no longer on Sundays

2008-08-27T15:15:00.000-07:00

Most of you probably have noticed that I haven’t been too great with posting Status Single every Sunday. You’re probably thinking, “Come on dude, I want some hot, juicy insight into someone else’s love life on Monday morning and it’s not always there.” That, or you just go to someone else’s blog and move on with your day.

In order to combat anyone’s disappointment, I’ve decided that I will be posting Status Single every week, just not on any set day. I originally started doing it on Sundays because it would give me a deadline to shoot for. Then I realized it was a blog and deadlines were sorta secondary.

I will be regularly writing Status Single, for the most part, once a week. On top of that, I will be posting Way Better Than Your Song Wednesdays on its regularly scheduled day, even if I might miss a week every once in a while.

Stay tuned for more blog-tastic fun!

Status Single Sundays (on a Monday) - Lovers, not friends

2008-08-18T19:24:00.000-07:00

One of the hard things for men to realize is some women aren’t meant to be friends. Meaning, men sometimes wonder if certain womanly pals could be more, so much so that it makes these connections more than innocently platonic. These thoughts can pervade throughout the entire non-touching, strictly high-fives relationships without ever being acted upon. However, if that man crosses the non-sexual barrier with a female friend, the results can be devastating.

Allow me to explain.

After a few years away from home, I returned for someone's wedding (that I probably served as best man... I've been best man more times than Britney Spears wrecked her car). During this time, I met up and hit it off with an old friend from high school. I will call her Nadia.

When we were younger, we had flirted with the possibility of starting something romantically. Circumstances never allowed us to act on these feelings for one another and we remained friends. In the back of my mind, I always wondered what it would have been like to be with her on that level.

Now older, and perhaps none-too-wiser, our friendship was thrown out the window in one drunken night. We made plans to meet at a downtown bar during my friend's bachelor party. After way too many martinis, we wound up spending the night together in a not-at-all regretful way. It was a spur of the moment sort of thing. No strings attached, which for me at the time, meant it was very hot.

The following visit home - for another wedding - I met with Nadia again in more friendly confines, this time for a coffee. I wholly admit it now, I tried to recreate the conditions of our previous rendezvous. I couldn't help it. I was still very attracted to her.

Most men follow a simple rule: if something feels good, he will want more of it. It is basic biology, really. I blame it on the chemicals and endorphins, maybe testosterone too. I assumed that if the last trip was so fun, why couldn't happen again? We were the same people at the end of the day, right?

Unfortunately, Nadia had been talking to another guy and wasn't so sure about getting naked with someone who planned to leave in a couple of days without any idea of when he'd be back. She wasn't too much into the no-strings thing anymore. She had her limits. Although I was a bit disappointed when she politely told me her situation, I understood where she was coming from.

Once again, I left, only to return for another visit after a long period of time away. A lot of water had flown under the bridge since the last time Nadia and I saw each other. I still thought of her as someone I'd like to catch up with whenever the opportunity arose. I always found her an interesting, smart individual, adept at more than superficial conversation with a wicked sense of humor. I wrote her an email, letting her know when I was due in town, inviting her to meet a few friends at my favorite local watering hole.

Before we were due to meet again, I discovered from those friends she had a new man in her life and he was her BOYFRIEND in capital letters - you know, just so I got it and didn't make a pass at her.

Why this info was brought to my attention so loudly, I did not know. Did she think I would hit on her, even though nothing had happened between us in years? Did she not know that I respected the fact she was into someone else? Did she think I would try to lick her face or that my clothes would disintegrate in unbridled ecstasy the moment I saw her?

The night crept along and it was late until Nadia showed. Then I saw her, standing at the bar, ordering a drink. She looked just as good as she always did, done up in a dress when other girls at the bar wore jeans and a t-shirt. I made my way over, tapped her on the shoulder and said hello. She said hello softly back, asked how I was and how long I was going to be in town. It was all very polite. It wasn't the jovial reaction one would expect from an old friend you hadn't seen in some time.

Instead of being exciting, meeting a former interest after a long time away, it was the complete opposite. It was awkward. Kinda like when you forget your work shoes at home and have to wear sneakers, only to have every other person ask you where your work shoes were. Or when you run out of hair gel before a family photo shoot. It felt funny like puberty as it hits a preteen and they have no clue what it is.

Then I realized what happened. Sex had changed everything between us. We used to be totally comfortable hanging out together on a friend level. But since we had done The Deed, we would never be able to look at each other and act the same way around one another, ever again.

***

Sexual attraction is sometimes the only thing that two people have between them and it seemed to be the case with Nadia. Whereas we were good friends before we hooked up, now it was different. There were expectations from both of us that superceded anything that had come before it.

The cold, hard truth is once we went to the next level, and it was extremely difficult to backtrack. We let everything go and laid ourselves out in the open. It's not simply the case we saw each other naked, sex made it much more.

Once we embraced the dark, carnal side, we gave up on being friends in return for one night of hot action. But maybe that was the point all along. Maybe we were never meant to be friends. A flirtatious engine drives some friendly relationships, as though something hides underneath the idle chit-chat, a curiosity lurking in the back of the minds involved. Maybe it was that attraction that kept Nadia and I in contact all along, in hopes that one day we might get to see and feel more.

The point is I never clicked with her as a true friend because I was just too damn attracted to her. In hindsight, this would have never changed, and the moment we both gave into temptation, we were never able to look back again.

Way Better Than Your Song Wednesdays – Pulp, “Common People”

2008-08-13T14:57:00.000-07:00

Jarvis Cocker is my hero. This is the song that changed my life.

Now that’s out of the way, let me tell why Pulp matters so much to me (and why the band should to you), and how the Sheffield-based group has a big part to do why British music is the way it is today.

At 15-years-old, I was impressionable, as we all were. A few years back I had traded in my comic books for a Rolling Stone and Spin subscription, replacing superheroes with rock stars. I really hadn’t found anything I truly was into – I don’t count the Cranberries or Stone Temple Pilots CDs in my early collection – until I started hanging out with a few kids at school that were into Brit-pop.

Across the pond, the British rock revolution was in full swing. It was 1995 and UK-centric alternative music spent a few glorious years at the top of the charts in that country, a response to the depressing dirge that was grunge rock. Started by Suede, Blur, and later Oasis, Pulp got swept up in this wave of great bands and became superstars in their homeland, some 15 years after they formed.

The de-facto leader of this group was Jarvis Cocker, a tall, lanky, former art student who had dreamt of becoming a star while in the equivalent to our high school. After years of making largely crap music, Jarvis finally found the line-up that would fulfill his dream. Pulp started to pick up steam in the early Nineties, the music press lauding the group for it’s blend of bedsit drama lyrics set to a soundtrack of disco-influenced, vintage keyboard beats.

I first heard of Pulp through my friends who, because we were too young to get into any clubs or hot hang-outs, would drive around in a Ford Bronco smoking cigarettes and listening to homemade mix-tapes with the latest hits from England for hours. We were huge fans of Pulp’s commercial breakthrough, His ‘N Hers, an album that captured the essence of what Pulp was – Jarvis’s clever lyrics about sex, mundane life, and wanting to rise above it all, with a pulsing, indie-dance rhythm, well before indie-dance was ever recognized as something real.

On a visit to Canada, I received a bootlegged cassette copy of Pulp’s new masterpiece, Different Class, and the band solidified its spot as my favorite of all time. Not only were the songs even better than His 'N Hers, but every one of them could be a radio single. "Mis-Shapes," "Sorted for E’s & Wizz," "Disco 2000," "I Spy," were all first-rate bangers. So influenced by these songs, I took to dressing like Cocker at school – corduroy blazers, tightly-knit sweaters, vintage tees, ties, Doc Martins. Those in my group of friends considered ourselves stylish punks, in on something secret that few people in South Texas knew about.

Brit-pop pretty much became my identity and Different Class became my bible. It was the first time I ever really learned about the virtues of illegal pharmaceuticals, unrequited lust, and with my favorite song, "Common People" AKA the best Brit-pop song ever, social class warfare. I came from a lower-middle class family, three of us in a two-bedroom apartment. I didn’t realize that I was a "common person" talked about in Jarvis’s touchstone single until I heard the song and knew that there were others like me, living to get by, working to get ahead. It morphed my entire perspective of the world around me.

Pulp also taught me that songs didn’t have to be three-minute bursts of melody with incomprehensible lyrics. They could be call-to-arms, they could be stories of great meaning, they could be life-affirming and inspiring. I knew then I needed music in my life much more than most individuals. The fact that I became a music writer years later is no coincidence. Different Class, "Common People" and Pulp did that for me.

Years later, Pulp is now defunct, Jarvis is working on great solo stuff and the musical landscape in the UK is much different. However, Pulp’s legacy still lives on. Easily one of the most underrated bands from the Brit-pop era, although they were stars, the Sheffield five-piece’s legacy lives on in bands such as Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party, the Long Blondes, CSS and more. Having a keyboard in your indie band isn’t the exception anymore, it’s the rule. Even American indie bands, most recently The Black Kids, have expressed being influenced by Jarvis and Pulp. They taught us that it was OK to have a message that you can dance to, and that it wasn't only cool to embrace our differences, they made us who we were.

WORDS

Pulp, "Common People"
Music by Pulp
Words by Jarvis Cocker
Highest chart placement: No. 2 UK

She came from Greece, she had a thirst for knowledge
She studied sculpture at Saint Martin's College
That's where I, caught her eye

She told me that her Dad was loaded
I said "In that case I'll have rum and coca-cola
She said "fine"

And then in 30 seconds time she said

"I want to live like common people
I want to do whatever common people do
I want to sleep with common people
I want to sleep with common people like you"

Well what else could I do?
I said "I'll see what I can do"

I took her to a supermarket
I don't know why
But I had to start it somewhere
So it started there

I said "pretend you've got no money"
But she just laughed and said
"Oh you're so funny"
I said, "Yeah
Well I can't see anyone else smiling in here

Are you sure?

You want to live like common people?
You want to see whatever common people see?
You want to sleep with common people?
You want to sleep with common people like me?"

But she didn't understand
She just smiled and held my hand

Rent a flat above a shop
Cut your hair and get a job
Smoke some fags and play some pool
Pretend you never went to school

But still you'll never get it right
'Cos when you're laid in bed at night
Watching roaches climb the wall
If you called your dad he could stop it all, yeah

You'll never live like common people
You'll never do whatever common people do
You'll never fail like common people
You'll never watch your life slide out of view

And then dance and drink and screw
Because there's nothing else to do

Sing along with the common people
Sing along and it might just get you through
Laugh along with the common people
Laugh along although they're laughing at you

And the stupid things that you do
Because you think that poor is cool

Like a dog lying in a corner
They will bite you and never warn you
Look out
They'll tear your insides out

'Cos everybody hates a tourist
Especially one who thinks
It's all such a laugh
Yeah, and the chip stain's grease
Will come out in the bath

You will never understand
How it feels to live your life
With no meaning or control
And with nowhere left to go

You are amazed that they exist
And they burn so bright
Whilst you can only wonder why

Rent a flat above a shop
Cut your hair and get a job
Smoke some fags and play some pool
Pretend you never went to school

But still you'll never get it right
'Cause when you're laid in bed at night
Watching roaches climb the wall
If you called your dad he could stop it all, yeah

You'll never live like common people
You'll never do whatever common people do
You'll never fail like common people
You'll never watch your life slide out of view

And then dance and drink and screw
'Because there's nothing else to do

I want to live with common people like you.....
Repeat 5X

VIDEO

Pulp performing "Common People" at Glastonbury Festival in 1995, widely considered to be the pinnacle of the band’s career, if not the pinnacle of Brit-pop. It still gives me goosebumps (see the 1.50 mark when the crowd erupts into a wave of humanity or how 100,000 people sound when they sing every. single. word.).

Status Single Sundays (on a Tuesday) - Head-Over-Heels

2008-08-05T12:15:00.000-07:00

It's a feeling that comes along every so often that leaves one breathless, anxious, nauseous, and giddy - something akin to being a high schooler on the eve of his first big dance, when he is excited but really doesn't know what to expect. Personally, I discovered this feeling during the first episode of My So-Called Life when I realized I was completely in love with Angela Chase AKA Claire Danes, well before her nose and head got really big. I like to call this feeling, the head-over-heels effect.

It's the feeling of falling head-over-heels for someone or something that drives us into a state of upside-down, backward, diagonal messiness and makes it worth the risk of exposing all of our dirty, dark secrets to another person. It's the feeling two people get when they decide that, hey!, we kinda like each other in that sexy kinda way and we're not scared to shout it from the rooftops or get naked with another human being on a regular and not-at-all-awkward frequency. This feeling makes the days go faster, the nights more entertaining, the sex hotter than asphalt on a Phoenix summer day.

Those persons you work with that glide from cubicle to cubicle, floating on a cushion of air much like Michael J. Fox in Back to the Future II on those hoverboards? Those persons are head-over-heels for someone. If you're not in this mental state, you probably find those persons annoying. If you've recently broken up with your significant other or you are a miserable sod, you HATE this type of person.

As a self-diagnosed hopeless romantic, and as anyone who has read Status Single can deduce, I love the initial feeling of infatuation. I crave it. I yearn for it, like the worst nicotine fit ever. OK, I take that back. I'm not that desperate for female attention, but falling for someone is what keeps me going through years of bachelorhood. Let's put it this way - if I was Indiana Jones, this would be my Lost Ark, my Holy Grail, whatever it was he was looking for in Temple of Doom, but definitely not the Crystal Skulls because, let's face it, they were pretty dumb as a storyline for a major film franchise.

It's this stage of utter euphoria for someone that makes anything seem possible and allows one, for a time, to forget about all the previous, god-awful, heartbreakingly bad romances once lived through. This can be the start of something absolutely wonderful and long-lasting, possibly even life-changing, or it can be another false-start in the long list of could-be relationships.

This pensive, toe-in-the-water approach makes the connection one has with his lady so scintillating and exhilarating. It's a huge risk. On one hand, you could be Bjork in the "Oh So Quiet" video, dancing down the street with mechanics and businessmen (although real-life construction workers may react somewhat differently than they did in the video; check out the 2.35 mark when a Bjork stunt-double flips off a wall, Matrix-style, years before the Matrix). On the other hand, a few weeks or months later, you could be left in a pile of hungover heartache, laying in your bed for 18 hours a day in the dark, crying out to god, "Why me?".

It's this same amourous feeling that leaves many people in a perpetual state of singlehood, as head-over-heels is a drug is easy to become addicted to, a drug that doesn't come cheap. You ever wonder why so many musicians write about love? It's no coincidence that songwriters who sing about love are also into narcotics. They are into mind-blowing substances, whether it's coke, heroin, or a surge of chemically enhanced seratonin and endorphins. As Roxy Music's Brian Ferry once sang, love is the drug.

Once the effects wear off, when the withdrawl symptoms of reality set in, many fiend for that feeling again. Many simply freak out and break up with someone because they feel like they will never get to experience the initial relationship honeymoon in their life. This leads many to let go what often has the possibility of being a good thing - ie. a worthwhile relationship.

Unfortunately, head-over-heels always wears off. In my experience, this usually happens around the three-month mark. That's when you figure out you were meant to be with your certain person. Three-months is when you start to realize her flaws, her shortcomings and whether or not you can deal with her sh**.

If it's for real, he knows well before the three-month mark. If he doesn't screw it up, that head-over-heels stage can lay a foundation for something greater. Or it serves as a buffer to figure out how much you really aren't made for each other or downright hate each other. If you're lucky, though, that naked-all-the-time period grows into something more meaningful, something just as good, if not better than that initial crazy, infatuated, upside-down, dizzy, explosion of hormone thing that is the initial stages of true, unadulterated love.

Way Better Than Your Song Wednesdays - The Verve, "Velvet Morning"

2008-07-30T23:00:00.000-07:00

When news broke that The Verve, one of the UK's finest rock bands ever, would reunite to record its first album in 10 years, I initially felt some apprehension as a fan. Not only had they disbanded on a creative high note with the critical and commercial smash, Urban Hymns, but the following decade provided us with output from members that never came close to the artistic heights the band had once achieved.

Richard Ashcroft, lead singer and soul of group, produced three solo albums - the not-so-bad Alone With Everybody, and the mediocre Human Conditions and Keys To The World that he truly thought were amongst some of his best works. They weren’t. Guitarist Simon Tong went on to replace Graham Coxon in Blur for that band's last album Think Tank and play in Damon Albarn's The Good, The Bad, and The Queen. Pete Salisbury, being the drummer, followed Ashcroft into his solo work because, well, he’s a drummer and will take any work he can get. Lead guitarist Nick McCabe became a recluse, just as when the Verve broke up the first time after the band's ecstasy-fueled masterstroke A Northern Soul, when McCabe he realized that Ashcroft could be a bit of a cock sometimes. And bassist Simon Jones toiled in relative obscurity with the once-great Stone Roses guitarist John Squire in a band called The Shining.

The band's return single is "Love Is Noise," a mid-tempo driver of a tune that serves as a good mixture of old and new Verve, uplifting and electrifying. It's exciting enough to make one look forward to the new album, Forth, which McCabe told the NME that the songs are made for stadiums as proven by their well-received headlining set at Glastonbury.

Side Note: To mark the return of the Verve’s awesomeness, Ashcroft totally dissed Keane during the Glasto show. Way to go, Rich! And how much do you wanna bet Mad Richard named the new album? Holy crap, the dude STILL loves himself, despite the fact he had to pretty much beg his lead guitarist to come back to the band TWICE(!) in order to write good songs again - the same guitarist he has to despise on some personal level for leaving the band on the verge of stardom and then, on the verge of a world tour. Being humble? Sorry, that’s not on the diet of a rawk star.

Listen to “Love Is Noise” at the band’s MySpace page

One of my favorite songs by the band follows a similar sonic vein to “Love Is Noise,” but is an introspective look into the chemical haze of an early morning-after. "Velvet Morning" is more pastoral than city-sounding track from Urban Hymns. Whereas "Bittersweet Symphony" and "The Drugs Don't Work" are the singles that made them world-famous, and deservedly so, it's songs such as "Velvet Morning" that the Verve are all about – sing-along choruses, soaring atmospheric melody, and earnestness that doesn’t come across as pretentious, despite the ego of the man who sings them.

Listen to Velvet Morning here.

SONG
US chart placement: non-single
UK chart placement: non-single

Yes
It's been long
And yes
I still feel strong
Into the half-light
Another velvet morning for me yeah

Time
Stands still
As you take
Your last pill
Into the half-light
Another velvet morning for me

And now I'm trying to tell you
About my life
And my tongue is twisted
And more dead than alive
And my feelings
They've always been betrayed
And I was born a little damaged man
And look what they made

I said, don't you find
That it's lonely
The corridor
You walk there alone
And life is a game
You've tried
And life is a game
You're tired

Yes
I'm coming down
Your beauty is
A color surround
Into the half-light
Another velvet morning for me

And now I'm trying to tell you
About my life
And my tongue is twisted
And more dead than alive
And my feelings
My feelings, they've been betrayed
And I was born a little damaged man
And look what they made

He said, don't you find
That it's lonely
The corridor
You walk there alone
And life is a game
You've tried
And life is a game
You're tired
And life is a game
You've tried

“Velvet Morning” as performed live at the band’s headlining show at Glastonbury 2008:

I hate it when...

2008-07-16T12:44:00.000-07:00

A lot of blogs serve mainly as forums for people to complain, so I try to generally avoid that sort of thing. However, when I see something I can't stand, that bugs the fuck out of me, I have to vent somewhere.

A fine ladyfriend and I went to see a noon showing Hancock today before I had to go to work. The movie was ok (especially when Will Smith was a dick in the first half of the film). It would have been a lot more enjoyable if the five kids down in front weren't talking and running around almost the entire running length of the film, like the theater was their personal playground.

The worst part? Their parents were there, allowing this all to go on. I don't care what your cultural, ethnic, or religious background is. That shouldn't matter when it comes to common courtesy for those who paid to see the movie. IN SILENCE. They even had a "Silence Is Golden" commercial just as the lights went down, asking audience members to abstain from adding their own soundtrack.

Instead, I had to struggle through some decent dialogue between Smith and Justin Bateman (who takes this starring role and runs with it) as some kids bounced off the walls on a sugar high. To parents out there: if I wanted to listen to your children jibber-jabber, watching them run around for two hours, I would have babysat for you.

I don't blame the kids. They don't know any better. I blame the parents who were so adept at zoning out their little heathens that they zoned out everyone else. Hint: those of us who made the choice not to have children might not like disruption during a two-hour flick that requires actual, non-ADD/ADHD watching and listening. Wake the fuck up and get your brood under control or go see Kung Fu Panda where viewers might be a bit more sympathetic to your situation.

Thanks for ruining my movie, jerks.

****

On a more positive note, I just bought tickets to see Wolf Parade in Austin on July 25 at La Zona Rosa. That alone made me excited, but I was surprised to see the guys from Wintersleep would be opening the show. Knowing them from the Halifax scene, and having interviewed them several times during my tenure with The Coast, it will be good to catch up with the nicest bunch of musicians I've had the pleasure of drinking beers and playing bingo with.

Wintersleep's appearance on the bill also makes it sweeter in that when I worked with the Marquee Club, we tried our hardest to book Wolf Parade at the venue, to no avail. It will be great to see WS open for a great band on U.S. soil, only months after their Juno (Canadian Grammy) win for Best New Band. They are definitely moving on up. I'm proud of those dudes.

Here's their MuchMusic Video Award-winning video for their biggest hit to date, "Weighty Ghost":

Status Single Sundays - Manifesto

2008-07-14T01:30:00.000-07:00

I'm on a bit of a two-week vacation right now and I have other things I need to catch up on (ie. my travel blog, emails to friends, etc.), so I thought I would re-post some of the original Status Single columns that were originally published on Filly.ca before they stopped paying writers and staff members to keep the site going.

So here is the original Status Single column that started it all. I'll be back next week with a brand new column. Any suggestions? Let me know.

***

I am a male in his mid-20s. I am single. I have a lot of experience with being single. Many people would fret over being alone, but I'm quite content with it. I mean, let's be serious. I have a tough time keeping my top dresser drawer stocked with clean underwear and socks let alone keeping a fulfilling and worthwhile relationship with a woman going long term. Not that I'm emotionally inept. I just have a lot on my mind and on my plate and relationships are tough.

This is who I am. Not Status: Married. Not Status: Widow. Not Status: Divorced. I'm Status: Single and I'm happy with that. Twenty years ago I would be a pariah - the notorious bachelor or ladies man. Today I'm one of many men in his 20s looking for something or someone that makes them feel right and not settling until it smacks me across the face, grabs me by the collar and leaves a visible trace of lusty lipstick.

Why write about it then? To tell you the truth, one reason is I can't stand the way mass media portrays men in the early 21st century. Walk to your local newsstand, peruse the monthlies and you'll get a sense of what I mean. On one side you get the ladies mags declaring they know the secrets of men. The secret ways to please men in bed! The secret erogenous spots on men! The secret ways men shave their armpits! Ever notice there is never one secret but many in these feature stories? A dozen, 20, 50, even 100(!) secrets per issue as if men were individual Pandora boxes that only require $5.99 to solve the mystery.

The point, besides one should never believe what they see on magazine racks, is that men aren't what most women think they are.

On the opposite rack are the laddie mags that imply all men want is the next lay, the hottest cars, the biggest games to watch on the weekend, and ways to drink more without puking. You know the ones I'm talking about. They have numbers too: a dozen, 20, 50 even 100(!) of the hottest ladies per issue as if every woman wore bikinis or torn tank tops and panties every waking moment. Wait, is that Scarlett Johanssen in a cheerleaders outfit on the cover of Men Today?

I digress. The point, besides one should never believe what they see on magazine racks, is that men aren't what most women think they are. Heck, men aren't what most men think they are. Sure, there are sections of our brains devoted to sex, partying and making more money - three things I admit to prescribing a fraction of my waking thoughts to. Simply put, there is much more to the emotional make-up and complexity of masculine nature that mass media most often forgets to mention.

There are many stereotypes about men that simply aren't true, especially in regards to how men act with women. Many women believe we never share our feelings. Many women believe the majority of us are insensitive idiots. Many women think all we require is the occasional orgasm from our partners to keep us happy.

All of the above statements, I suppose, are partially true. They are all also partially false. Many men wish to share their feelings, only many don't know how to; we can be sensitive; and it's nice to get the occasional orgasm from the person we're into, but we're more than capable of taking care of ourselves in that department as needed.

From my insatiable appetite for pop culture, I realized the average male has little voice when it comes to dating and love. Are we supposed to just figure it out like when I learned about the birds and bees from the stash of dirty videos an adolescent friend's dad kept hidden in the closet? Women have all those magazines that supposedly divulge the good stuff. They have the talk shows, the Dear Abby columns and my personal favourite, Sex and the City.

Men? They have close to nothing, unless you wish to count the October spread of some blonde, leggy actress in some sexist monthly. No one ever has said, "Hey, guys! Let's talk about how we feel when it comes to our personal lives and relationships." Sure, I'll have a large contingent of XY blockheads saying I'm a pansy for writing about this kind of thing. There will be a lot of women that say the same thing.

But I bet there might be a few curious souls out there that might relate to the things I go through in my personal life. I already know from the women's side of the magazine store and the stack in ex-girlfriends' bathrooms that people like secrets.

Another reason for a column on dating and relationships amongst men is that I live it every day. Being single, I wouldn't be honest if I didn't say I'm always open to the possibility of accepting a person into my life. I don't go looking for it, like many men mistakenly do, but the thought of having a respectful relationship with a beautiful, intelligent, driven woman is a nice thought to have every once in awhile.

That's what Status Single is about. I don't presume to be the voice for manhood. I'm here to share how a regular single guy in his mid-20s deals with life and love and those people involved in both. status Single is about how one man works hard to pay the bills, save some money for a weekend out on the town, and how he hopes to be something bigger than his regular 9-to-5 job. Most importantly, it's about the search for something or someone special that makes him smile. It's about the endless struggle to meet one person that makes him happy to be himself, and how that pursuit is never over until it's over.

Believe me, there will be as many failures as small victories along the way. It's as inevitable as the new morning rising on the day or the decreased quality of the Bridget Jones sequel. From my infallibility, though, comes experience and knowledge that people just might relate to.

Welcome to my life. Welcome to Status Single.

Way Better Than Your Song Wednesdays - Magnetic Fields, "Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits"

2008-07-09T13:55:00.000-07:00

In 1999 alt-pop-songster extraordinaire, Stephin Merritt released his voluminous masterpiece, 69 Love Songs, as part of his four-piece project Magnetic Fields. Spanning over the course of three albums, the ambitious collection at first appears like a musician's ego running amok. How could 69 songs hold the interest of the listener? Many artists and bands release multi-disc collections, only to have most of it serve as filler. Surprisingly, 69 Love Songs works throughout the course of it's many odes (although I personally lean towards the first and second sets), and contains many gems, including the rapturous "Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits."

Introduced to me by my friend, Jodi (AKA Library Girl), the New York-based Magnetic Fields captured my imagination almost immediately, partly because I write about modern romance as Merritt has here, and partly because his prowess with alternative pop music is so adept at capturing a particular feeling while offering some of the smartest lyrics around. Those with an affinity to Belle and Sebastian's bedsit poetry and twee-leanings won't feel out of place with any of Merritt's Magnetic Fields works.

One thing I truly appreciate about Merritt is that he approaches his albums like a novelist does a book. Each project has its own theme, it's own sound, it's own concept. It allows a music fan to sink their teeth into the material and allows Merritt to explore many different facets of the theme he's writing about.

69 Love Songs is his most successful concept album, embracing the mythos of love that only a true troubadour can. There are songs of break-up, songs of longing and unrequited love, even love of non-human things such as jazz and punk rock. Throughout it all, Merritt writes from an observational point-of-view, as the slightly jaded, lonely lover, reminiscing on those he fell for, those he's falling for, or those he will love always (people, places and things).

"Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits," from the first 69 Love Songs disc, is one of the most playful tracks of the entire set. Sparsely set to a drum-machine beat, a piano-synth track and Merritt's soaring vocals, in it's simplest form "Let's Pretend..." is a tribute to fucking or even cosplay (AKA animal costume sex). Dig a little deeper and the song is not only about the joys of getting it on, but the joy of being so obsessed with someone that all you want to do is get naked and have some fun together. It's at once hilarious, humourous, and heartfelt.

Listen to the song HERE

"Let's Pretend We're Bunny Rabbits"

If you knew how I long
For you now that you're gone
You'd grow wings and fly
Home to me
Home tonight
And in the morning sun

Let's pretend we're bunny rabbits
Let's do it all day long
Let abbots, Babbitts and Cabots
Say Mother Nature's wrong

And when we've had a couple'a'beers
We'll put on bunny suits
I long to nibble your ears
And do as bunnies do

Let's pretend we're bunny rabbits
Let's do it all day long
Rapidly becoming rabid
Singing little rabbit songs

I can keep it up all night
I can keep it up all day
Let's pretend we're bunny rabbits
Until we pass away

Let's pretend we're bunny rabbits
Until we pass away

Check out more of Magnetic Fields here:

MySpace
Wikipedia Entry

The laugh-out-loud video:

See also: DISTORTION, i

Status Single Sundays – Deal-breakers

2008-07-06T16:14:00.000-07:00

There are certain things in a woman that I’m searching for. If she doesn’t have all of the particular characteristics, that’s quite OK. However, in getting to know her, if she has one of a very small list of characteristics I can't stand, she might as well throw away my phone number.

These are the deal-breakers – the things you simply can’t accept in a person you might have a future with. Everyone has them when it comes to choosing a partner. Those who tell you they don’t are lying to you. Of course, I’m different from every other guy, so please don’t think I’m talking for the entire male gender. Stereotyping is bad, folks. Pickiness when it comes to romance? That’s an entirely different matter.

Here are a few of my deal-breakers, in no particular order:

1) Bad kisser – I’m sorry, but I’m not going to spend the rest of my life with someone who likes to lick my teeth when she kisses me. Or anyone puts her tongue into my ear canal in what is the grossest wet willie you can give. Or someone who licks or inhales my nose. Or who slobbers all over my face. Sadly, all of the above have happened.

2) Lover of wack music – Usually I don’t use the term wack. It’s pretty out of date. I only use it when a potential girlfriend’s music taste is just as out of date. I’m sure these women are great individuals that have a lot of great qualities. I simply cannot live with someone who extols the virtues of the Dave Matthews Band and Collective Soul. I just can’t. I tried. It’s like living in the boat that George Clooney and Mark Wahlberg sail out of the harbor in A Perfect Storm. That means I will not date anyone who is going to see New Kids On The Block reunion tour. That means you can forget my address if you have a healthy dose of new-school country in your collection (this might be OK if you have a higher ratio of the classics such as Johnny Cash, Patsy Cline, even Willie Nelson and Kris Kristofferson). If you love Hannah Montana, ironically or unironically, it’s a 99.999999 percent chance we aren’t soulmates.

3) Don’t like my friends – Yes, my friends might seem they’re from another planet. They might like to drink too much and listen to the most bizarre forms of music you’ve ever heard. They might smell a bit too. The one thing that will never change is the fact that they were here before you and they will always be there for me, whether the door hits your ass on the way out or not.

4) Bad movie selection – I can’t stand chick flicks. I will go see one to appease a girl on rare occasions. If she constantly brings home Mandy Moore movies from Blockbuster, or her NetFlix (Zip.ca in Canada) account looks like a who’s-who out of a Martha Stewart or Oprah magazine, we’ll be having one of those “talks” pretty soon thereafter.

5) More stuff from Pottery Barn than books – There is much more to life than consumer culture, in my opinion. If you knew me at all, you would know I hate the mall and enjoy stimulating culture in the form of novels, the newspaper, film, theatre, art - even the Internet has worthwhile things to dig into (you are reading this on the ‘Net, I presume). If you enjoy the mall more than the museums, perhaps I can give you the number of some of my lonelier friends?

6) Way too shy – Are you one of those persons who freaks out at the thought of going to a party where you might only know a few people? Would you rather stay home and watch The Bachelor instead of going to see a good live show? Are you one of those persons who won’t go out if you don’t have your entire entourage of life-long friends with you? Are you one of those persons scared of men in general? Hi, my name is Mr. Social Butterfly, not Mr. Babysitter. Peace out.

7) Republicans are cool – George W. Bush leads from his heart and that makes him a great leader. If you truly believe this statement, get my heart off your radar screen. To men - a great way to avoid these women is look on the back of their car. Does she have a W’04 sticker with possibly a McCain ’08 sticker beside it on the rear window or bumper? If she does, run. Run for the hills faster than Iron Maiden.

Side note: as I was doing errands in San Antonio a few weeks ago, I noticed a bumper sticker that looked like another Bush-beater sticker. On closer inspection, it was the coolest bumper sticker I’ve seen in sometime and had to take some measure of cojones to sport in the middle of Bush-topia: Anyone Else For President. Way to renew my faith in the common folk!

8) Jesus is my homeboy – A very beautiful woman that I have high admiration for, once told me that she broke up with a guy because he couldn’t accept Jesus in his life. Did I consider asking for her number? Hell no. I’m into organized religion as much as I’m into ass waxing. I’m totally cool that persons have strong religious convictions in their life. I just don’t date those who do. That goes for Islamic fundamentalists, Christian conservatives, Yoga-fit Buddha worshippers that can’t stop talking about her pilgrimage to Goa, and anyone else that tries to push their faith onto me. I have my beliefs, you have yours. Now please get out of my bed and take your “Day of the Armageddon and the Return of Jesus” brochures with you.

What are some of your deal-breakers? Share them in the comments section.

Acrylic Disco - My first official DJ mix!

2008-07-04T22:10:00.001-07:00

Before I left Halifax, I had the pleasure of recording a DJ mix with the assistance of the bearded wonder,Colin Crowell, in his great studio. If you don't know, Colin writes music for and plays with Ruby Jean and the Thoughtful Bees. He also performs in Jon McKiel's band. We spent two nights working on it over beer and pizza in the studio/practice space/backyard shed of A.A. Wallace of the Sleepless Nights and I'm quite pleased as to how it came out.

I named the set Acrylic Disco after my former monthly Metal Disco, which I did for a year and a half with my friends Tony Hage (AKA Tony Haze) and Loukas Crowther (Loukas C) before I left Halifax for new things. There we played indie-dance and electro remixed goodness on nights that involved a lot of Jager, many friends and much, much fun. Acrylic Disco is a tribute to those nights.

And now the mix is yours for the taking. It's a lot of upbeat, danceable, going-out tracks with some of the best songs once played by myself. I sincerely hope you enjoy it.

To those DJs out there looking to record a mix in a studio setting, Colin is great at engineering. Please feel free to email him at colincrowell@gmail.com. Tell him I sent you!

Without further ado: ACRYLIC DISCO

Acrylic Disco - DJ Acrylic
1. The Whip - Trash
2. Calvin Harris - Acceptable in the 80s
3. Justice w/Uffie - The Party (L.A. Riots Remix)
4. Chromeo - Bonafied Lovin (David Wolf Remix)
5. The Gossip - Listen Up (MSTRKRFT Remix)
6. CSS - Let's Make Love and Listen to Death From Above (Diplo Flokids Remix)
7. Justice Vs. Simian - We Are Your Friends (Lee Cabrera's Lower East Side Remix)
8. Datarock - I Used To Dance With My Daddy (Metal On Metal Remake)
9. Feist - Sealion (Chromeo Remix)
10. Stone Roses - Fool's Gold
11. Ruby Jean and the Thoughtful Bees - You Don't Miss Me
12. Muscles - Sweaty (Shazam Remix)
13. DJ Paul V - Surviving the Nightlife
14. The Glass - Mad At You
15. Goose - Black Gloves (Bloody Beetroots Remix)
16. New Order - Confusion 2007 (A-O Miami Edit)
17. The Whip - Sister Siam

Status Single Sundays (on a Friday) - Be Careful What You Wish For

2008-07-04T15:22:00.000-07:00

While on a recent trip across the United States, I met up with a few women that I used to know from high school that I hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. Back in high school, I had dated one of them for a short while, the other I had flirted with the idea of dating. The reason why both of them didn't work out? They were too nice for me.

They both reminded me of this fact when I saw them again, taking great pleasure in letting me know that I pushed them away because I felt that I might corrupt them or something. That fact was sort of true, considering my mindset back then.

High standards were an anomaly in high school when it came to dating. Mostly because I didn't know any better, but also because I was slightly emotionally stunted in terms of accepting the affection of women that deserved it back. Unfortunately, it's something that continued to rear its head over the following decade.

Girls who were a little too square were out of the question as girlfriend material for my teenage self. Forget that they might be gorgeous and have other highly redeeming qualities (such as they didn’t mind telling people they were into me). If they were too nice, a little too naïve about music, if they went to Sunday school (although I dated my share of fellow Sunday schoolmates), if they had overbearing parents, I would usually shy away.

I wanted edginess. I wanted slightly dangerous. I wanted outgoing and maybe even a little crazy. I wanted a girl that wasn't afraid to break their parents rules. I wanted a girl that knew good music other than country and top 40 radio (extremely difficult to find in south Texas). I wanted a good kisser who wasn’t afraid to be open with their sexuality.

To those guys in high school: be careful what you wish for.

Ten years later, one dead-end relationship after the next, and I've changed my way of thinking. I'm looking for that type of woman who isn't afraid to show affection towards me. I'm looking for someone that wants an adult relationship. I want someone who isn't afraid to grow and change with someone else in her life, namely, me.

The women I've dated since high school have been fascinating, diverse personalities. Unfortunately, they weren’t – how do I put this most diplomatically? - most of them weren't the best long-term girlfriend material.

Whether it was the fact that they didn't want anything serious (with me or anyone else), or whether we just didn't click on life goals, life perspectives, on emotional or maturity levels, most of them just weren’t up to the task of being a the type of girlfriend I had envisioned. Whereas I thought of their idiosyncrasies as a challenge, or something that made them unique, they really were warning signs that perhaps that person wasn’t the right one for me.

I have to preface that last statement by saying I haven't been a saint. There have been times when someone’s open affection for me has left me running like a marathon runner on speed in the opposite direction. I’ve hurt as much as I’ve been hurt.

In looking for those women with unique personalities, I warped my thinking into going for those who were nothing more than numbers in a long diary of a serial dater. I'm not blaming them for anything - I don't regret a single second spent with the large majority of those girls, but a lot of times, I spent a lot of days with those who weren’t the best persons for me to be around.

Only now do I feel that I'm out of that phase of my life. The most difficult thing I learned wasn't that I have to see through whatever issues or vulnerabilities that someone may have, it was that I have to not only be open to accepting affection from someone, but also to be selfish when it comes to those who I choose to spend quality time with. For someone cursed with a bad case of White Knight Syndrome, it's been a big learning curve.

When I met up with the two not-so-jilted-anymore women during my trip, not only were they were more interesting persons 10 years later, they were easy-going, in comfortable jobs and the kind of women I wouldn’t be opposed to hanging out with on a regular basis. If it wasn’t for years of failed relationships, I wouldn’t be able to appreciate these women for who they are now: the possibility of something better.

Way Better Than Your Song Wednesdays: Metric, “Dead Disco”

2008-07-02T21:45:00.000-07:00

Emily Haines at Shoreline Festival, 2004. Photo by my friend Brad Fraser.

Based on their first two records, when Metric calls it a day on it's career, it may be known as one of the best Canadian singles bands. It shouldn't be a surprise. It's there in the Toronto-based quartet's name – calculated precision wrapped up in a song less than four minutes.

The foursome's official debut album Old World Underground, Where Are You Now? had no less than six great singles, but the masterpiece was "Dead Disco," a track that went on to explode dancefloors everywhere and serve as a call-to-arms for creative minded individuals everywhere.

Starting with drummer Joules Scott-Key's fast-paced drum-line and a 45-second, four-note intro played simultaneously by founding members Emily Haines and Jimmy Shaw on keyboard and guitar, respecitively, "Dead Disco" starts to take off when bassist Josh Winstead joins in the party and Haines starts to rip into it with her biting, satirical lyrics about the monotony and lethargy of the modern music industry. It's the type of caustic wit with dose of bright, addicting melody that keeps Metric relevant even a few years after new released material, keeping fans waiting with baited breath for the follow-up to their breakout second album, Live It Out, and reissue of lost recording, Grow Up and Blow Away.

It's not just what she says that gives her words strength, it's the way Haines says them. Direct, forward, in smart couplets, "Dead Disco" makes the point in the audible release of the chorus that alludes to the unoriginality of what could be Top 40 radio that has been repackaged to the masses for too long. "Dead disco/Dead funk/Dead rock 'n roll. Remodel/Everything has been done/La la la la la la la."

The song doesn't let up until the end, the best bit being the slinky Korg-keybord riff Haines uses to underpin the driving pulse her band has constructed. Although released as a single at 3 minutes, 26 seconds, Metric extended the song to over 10 minutes long for subsequent live shows, enciting audiences into a frothing, gyrating frenzy.

Having seen the group play four times, I’ve seen on-stage dance parties, fallen keyboards, band members crowd surfing, and a wooden, second-level club floor bending under the weight of jumping fans. All of this happened during the performance of what might be Metric’s greatest achievement in "Dead Disco."

I've had the opportunity to meet, interview, and drink copious amounts of booze with the members of Metric a few times and they are very much like their music. Jimmy and Joules bring a fun, upbeat nature to their proceedings, while Emily and Josh are the more serious, keen observers to what is going on around them. Together, they are one of the best acts to come from the Great White North, and remain a standard of what it takes to be rockstars in this era of Bush, oil, and conservative Christian, sprawling suburbia.

Dead Disco
Words by Emily Haines

Skip town, slow down
Push it to the east coast
Step down turn around
Push it to the west
Need less, use less
We're asking for too much I guess
Cause all we get is...

Dead disco
Dead funk
Dead rock and roll
Remodel
Everything has been done
La la la la la la la la la la

Tits out, pants down
Overnight to London
Touch down, look around
Everyone's the same
World-wide, air-tight
No one's got a face left to blame
And all we get is...

Dead disco
Dead funk
Dead rock and roll
Remodel
Everything has been done
La la la la la la la la la la

Dead disco
Dead funk
Dead rock and roll
Remodel
Everything has been done
La la la la la la la la la la

I know, I know you tried to change things
I know you tried to change
I know

Click HERE to listen to "Dead Disco" at Metric's Myspace page.

My article on the band, published by The Coast in 2006:
Measuring Metric

Video of Dead Disco

People I will not live with...

2008-07-02T12:51:00.001-07:00

I've been looking for a roommate temporarily while I save money to move to the big city (more on that later...).

How can you tell you won't get along with someone just by looking at their Craig's List posting?

THEY WRITE IN ALL CAPS AND USE A LOT OF EXCLAMATION POINTS!!! AND THEY CNT SPLL OR CHOOZE NOT TOO!!!

God help me.

Come back for delayed Status Single Sunday and Way Better Than Your Song Wednesday coming up later today. And I promise, my travel blog isn't done although I've completed my travels for now.

Things I Miss About Halifax Right Now

2008-06-28T00:02:00.000-07:00

-Being surrounded by music and the most creative people I’ve ever met
-My favourite bars ever
-Figuring my shit out over beers
-Late night parties in Hell’s Kitchen
-Late night parties at Abdi/Mercer’s place
-Late night parties at Beers’ place
-Late night parties at stranger’s places, usually with Hammers
-Being able to drive 20 minutes to the beach
-Going out and running into a bunch of people I know
-The cute ladies
-DJing on a regular basis
-Working with great bands and live music establishments
-The amazing small towns around Halifax
-Tim Horton’s coffee and Everything bagels with herb and garlic cream cheese
-Walking through the Commons
-Visiting the grandfolks in Bridgewater
-Being able to meet and hang out with my favourite bands
-Planning shows and working on selling shows to the media
-Brainstorming, arguing about which acts would go over well with Halifax audiences
-Getting paid to drink beer and make people dance while playing my favourite music
-Writing using Canadian spelling
-Not having to hide my accent
-A liberal point of view
-People who actually care about each other
-My bed
-Greek food
-Thai food
-Canadian beer
-Canadian music
-Being able to walk everywhere
-The lack of superhighways
-Swimming at Long Lake
-Rissers, Crescent, Crystal Crescent beaches
-Late night pizza
-Martinis at the Bitter End
-Beer at the Shoe, Seahorse, and Tribeca
-The Marquee Club
-Being able to pay little for a cab when we don’t want to walk
-Hooker’s Corner/Alley on a Friday night at Rejex
-Seasons instead of intense, blasting heat
-Wearing longsleeves at night in the summertime
-The waterfront
-Driving over the bridges
-The art scene
-The Coast
-And most of all: You

Way Better Than Your Song Wednesdays - Graham Coxon, "Bittersweet Bundle of Misery"

2008-06-25T21:09:00.001-07:00

Although my friend and colleague Matt Charlton would disagree with me, Blur wasn’t Blur anymore when guitarist Graham Coxon left the band. After the mediocre Think Tank, the album sans Coxon, Damon Albarn even admitted to the press that it just wasn’t the same without his more introverted (ie. less of a dickhead) foil. He declared that there wouldn’t be another Blur album without Coxon, and when Coxon balked at the attempt to cajole him back into the fold, Albarn decided a new Gorillaz album (fantastic, btw) and a new band The Good, The Bad, and the Queen (as so-so as the band name) were in order.

Most musos wrote-off Coxon post-Brit-pop stardom, thinking that without the other Blur-three, he’d be as bad as his first few lo-fi (ie. crap) solo albums. Instead, Coxon carried on where Blur should have, writing two amazingly great albums, Happiness in Magazines and Love Travels at Illegal Speeds. Both feature super-tight, Jam-influenced guitars, bouncy rhythms, and pointed lyrics. Was it because he got off the booze that he became so focused? Was it because he was out from under Albarn’s egotistical shadow? Who knows? All I know is Blur is missing out on the good shit.

Take “Bittersweet Bundle of Misery,” from Love Travels..., for example. Akin to the “Coffee and Cigarettes” on Blur’s 13 album (also written by Coxon), the song starts with a sweet, Kinks-ian riff, then moves into a rollicking, darkly humorous, yet self-deprecating tale of love that will never be right. It reminds me of a few too many women I’ve spent too much time with.

Check it out here with a few more songs:
http://www.myspace.com/theroxons

Bittersweet Bundle of Misery

Now the end is in sight, I'm just tired
Lying awake at night. so wired
And fired up, with biological urge, in my belly
And I hunt for the words, on my telecaster
Spinning faster, goodnight you

You're beautiful, I love to watch your face in the morning light
You're really cool, I like the way we fight right through the night
And the way we used to kiss was way out of sight
But I can never hope to set you free
Cos you're my bittersweet bundle of misery

As I study the lines on the ceiling
I find the fact you're unkind, quite appealing
I'm feeling sure, that I have come to the end, of your tether
And there's no such thing as happily ever
After it just gets dafter, goodnight you

You're beautiful, I love to watch your face in the morning light
You're really cool, I like the way we fight right through the night
And the way we used to kiss was way out of sight
But I can never hope to set you free
Cos you're my bittersweet bundle of misery

It would take me an age to marry you
Now I've seen you use my razor like you do, its true

You're beautiful, I love to watch your face in the morning light
You're really cool, I like the way we fight right through the night
And the way we used to kiss was way out of sight
But I can never hope to set you free
Cos you're my bittersweet bundle of misery

Editors Note: No coincidence here. Spin just reported that Coxo and Paul Weller, once of the Jam, have teamed up for a single to be released on July 30. Check it out: Spin story

Status Single Sundays - The Married Woman In Disguise

2008-06-22T21:22:00.000-07:00

To single men out there, heed my warning – be wary of the married.

Out there, lurking in the shadows of the darkest nightclubs, are women who seem like other women. They look like regular women. They feel like regular women. They speak like regular women. Only, they aren’t regular women. They are something entirely different, from a planet few single people know or have ever experienced.

These women, my single brethren, are married.

***

It was another night of Metal Disco, a DJ monthly I did with two of my friends L and T. You should check it out. It is always a good mix of indie-dance and electro. This night always involves fantastic music, lots of booze, and many cute girls as any good DJ monthly would have. In between sets, I would be the social butterfly, chatting with friends, meeting new people, and dancing to L and T’s musical selections.

It’s also a great place to meet someone. You already know that they like good music, which is one step in the right direction. And it’s always a fun atmosphere.

That particular night, as I was about to order a drink, a woman named Katie introduced herself to me. I hadn’t seen her around before. Come to find out, she was from a small town about 45 minutes away from the city, where she ran a ski school at the local hill. She was in her late twenties, had stunning green eyes, brown hair, and a mischevious smile that looked as though she was hiding a secret.

I offered to buy her a drink on my tab and she agreed, as long as she could buy me one later. We chatted for a bit, and she asked me to dance, displaying a forwardness that I’ve always found attractive in women. I told her I would love to if it weren’t for the fact that I had to play my last set of the night. We made promises to get down on the dancefloor a little later on.

During my set, Katie surprised me with a shot of Jager, and the crush was on. She was cute, liked good music, and was quite funny in the first ten minutes of conversation we had. If only I had asked myself one more time, why I hadn’t seen this girl around more often…

My set concluded, I found Katie at the bar again and asked if she wanted to cash in that dance. We start dancing and the flirtation level was high. She asked me what I was doing later and invited me to come out with her friends to another club. I told her I would definitely think about it.

As we dance closer and closer, we shared more intimate details of each other’s lives. Our age. Our love of skiing. Our love of small towns. The usual first time conversation stuff. Then she dropped the bomb.

“You know I’m married, right?”

She probably saw the disappointment on my face, slowly changing to anger. I felt led completely led on.

How was I supposed to react to that news after she had thrown out the single signals? Here were my options:

1) “Oh yeah, I could totally tell from the lack of wedding ring on your finger.”
2) “Yippee! I LOVE married women. No strings!”
3) “I’m married too. Pretend married.”
4) “Am I on Candid Camera?”
5) “Goodnight and goodbye. Thanks for wasting my time.”

I wish I had the balls to respond to her query with No. 5. She explained that she had been married for a year and was out on the town with her girlfriends. She thought I was a really cool guy and wanted to hang out more that evening despite the fact that she had a lifelong partner.

She didn’t seem to understand one of the main rules of being married: do not flirt with single men. This is akin to selling nuclear secrets to North Korea and Iran. You just don’t do it. Not only is it wrong, but women who do this – not to mention men who do it with women - are wasting our time.

What did she think would happen? I would enjoy dancing with her all night long, only to go home drunk alone and sexually frustrated? It would be like going to the strippers, only clothes would stay on.

To women who are married: it’s OK to chat with single men, as long as you let them know upfront what your status is. If they’re down with that, then feel free to do whatever you want with them. It could wind up a fun night and you might get a new friend out of it.

If you tell them you’re married and they walk away, suck it up. You took vows before your friends and family that you’re with one man for the rest of your life. That means sacrificing flirtation with single guys who are looking for that same connection with other single women. You’ve achieved what they’ve been searching for. Please don’t provide yet another obstacle for them to jump over in their pursuit of romantic happiness.

Status Single Sundays: Why Aren’t You Married Yet? - Part Two, The Peter Pan Syndrome

2008-06-17T22:43:00.000-07:00

A week ago, my friend Junebug and I got in an argument about why men are marrying later while discussing my last Status Single entry. She felt many men aren’t marrying sooner because they want to go out and have sex with as many women as possible before they have to grow up.

I agreed and disagreed. There definitely are a percentage of men who are quite pleased to use and abuse women and toss them aside for another victim whenever they grow bored. I personally believe that a lot of men would give up freedom for an amazing connection with a woman regardless of how attached they are to their bachelorhood. The argument, coupled with the book by Carl Wiseman named "Why Aren't You Married Yet?" got me thinking about why she would think that all men are out for sex, sex, and only sex and not love, love, love.

I'm not going to deny that men need or want some time to sow their wild oats. I'm proof of that. I believe that this is an important phase for men – and women too – to go through in their lives so they learn what it is they want or do not want from a companion, at the same time, get all the assaholic behavior out of their systems.

Another big reason why men are marrying later has nothing to do with the fact they want to get with as many people as possible. It's something I like to call the Peter Pan Syndrome that has affected my generation more than any other. We simply don't want to grow up.

And my generation, more than any other, can get away with it. We've shifted our social values away from the family structure to the career-oriented lifestyle. It has become more acceptable to pursue financial pursuits over romantic ones.

In a time when religion fuels murder of thousands in the name of Allah, Zionism, or Jesus, there isn't any pressure from spiritual sects to marry someone. Let's face it: we're not so worried about living in sin by partaking in premarital sex or cohabitation when people are strapping C4 to themselves and blowing up innocent persons as part of the mujaheddin, or molesting small boys while living and working in the name of God.

We’ve been programmed differently from our parents, by the mis-steps of our parents, who had to be married in order to live together, have children together, or even simply survive the financial hardships of working/middle class lifestyles. They had pressures from their parents, the church, and society to be married younger.

Today? Screw getting hitched. We're having too much fun with our steady, disposable income. We're happy to be married to our friends, to the party, to youth. It's these things that we're married to more than the idea of marriage itself. Why divorce these wonderful, vibrant things in order to grow up? Why get deep with someone else if we can be shallow with a whole bunch of good looking people as many times as we like?

This isn't limited to the male sex. With increased freedom and equality, with that advancement of medicine that makes giving birth later in life safer, with contraceptives widely used and not nearly as controversial, women can get theirs too. While I can't speak for the fairer sex, I personally know this simply because these are the women I've dated in my twenties. Fewer women want anything serious past having loosely-based relationships that are about having a great time and casual sex.

I can't remember how many times I've had this conversation, either on the receiving (ie. heartbroken) or giving end (ie. heartbreaker). This usually happens around the three-month mark into a "relationship". It goes something like this:

Smitten Kitten: "So uh, we've been getting naked a lot lately. Are we, like,
dating?"

Party Monster: "Dating? Yeeck. I didn't sign up for that. I'm not looking for
anything serious like a relationship. I can barely spell relationship."

SK: "Oh, 'cause sleeping over five nights a week, booty calls at all hours,
never gave me the that impression. Did you ever think we might be past having
fun together?"

PM: "Have you been drinking? Have you been taking drugs? Because what ever
you’ve been doing, I want some of that."

I've been the Smitten Kitten as often as I've been the Party Monster over my dating life. Sometimes I've wanted to enjoy the party and make women a part of that party. Sometimes I've wanted women to enjoy the party with, someone to go home with at the end of the night. While my mother had two small children by the time she was my age, I preferred to live the high life.

In this culture of personal freedom (or fear of commitment, dodging of responsibilities, etc.), there isn't any need for either men or women to be with one person. Being with themselves is perfectly acceptable.

This reason is exactly why it's so hard to meet someone who wants more than random hook-ups. Timing is thrown to the wind. To find someone that wants to be with you as much as you want to be with them, at the same time, is truly special. It's only happened to me once in my twenties.

This is where I'm at right now. I want more than the party. I want to know someone better than anyone else does and I want them to know everything about me. I'm more than willing to give up some personal freedom if it means being happy with someone I click with. Love is the drug that’s better than any beer I’ve sipped or any drug I've snorted, smoked or drank. Only as a male living in Never-Never Land, this is akin to getting VIP tickets to Radiohead or a air-conditioned tent at Lollapalooza.

It's perfectly acceptable to be married to the party or to be single for the sake of being single. Hell, as someone who’s partied as much as I could afford (or not afford) to, I say enjoy yourself as long as your body or mind allows you. Push the limits of sanity. Live for no regrets.

That doesn't exclude you from all responsibility, however. If you're not ready for a relationship and would rather just get some hot action from someone, let them know where you're at. As long as you’re honest about it, you're in the clear.

It's unfortunate that not everyone is as virginal with their intentions. If you find yourself in a "relationship," in a partnership in which you’re the Smitten Kitten and your lover is the Party Monster, get out ASAP. The Sex maybe hot, as no-strings sex usually is, but you’re delaying the inevitable. The longer you're with Party Monster, the more the band-aid will hurt when you rip it off. You will never convince Peter Pan – or Wendy – to come down to earth. He or she will only do so when they are ready to be grounded in favor of deeper meaning stability.

More so than any generation, as proven by Wiseman’s research in "Why Aren't You Married Yet?", men refuse to settle. Women take heed: if you find the bachelor of your dreams, someone you think is willing to leave their Party Monster days behind them to see where things could go with you, take your time. He may need some convincing that it's OK to take the leap from the shallower attraction of single life, to the bottomless possibilities of meaningful love.

Status Single postponed.

2008-06-16T00:10:00.001-07:00

It’s grant deadline day for Music Nova Scotia, so Status Single Sunday will be postponed until Monday evening. Also stay tuned for Day 6: New York City of my travel blog.

Status Single Sundays: Why Aren’t You Married Yet? - Part One

2008-06-08T22:26:00.000-07:00

About a year ago, I headed an hour south to from my Halifax home to Bridgewater, NS, to hang out with my grandparents and three of my mother's aunts whom I had never met. The moment after I made my introductions, my Aunt Dodi, going strong in her 70s asked me the question that must have been really eating away at her for sometime: "Why aren't you married yet?"

I had to laugh. There I was, on the latter half of my 20s and had no prospects for life-long happiness with any member of the opposite sex and completely fine with it. The thought of telling her I was gay was a viable option. Giving her a run down of my crazy ex-girlfriends was another good one. Instead, I simply replied, "I'm taking my time. I don't want to mess up like my parents did."

This stopped Dodi only for a second. "Well, you really should get married by 30, you know. It's a lot more difficult to find someone after that."

"Well, Aunt Dodi," I replied, "the countdown begins."

****

Most bachelors are afraid to marry the wrong girl, over half won’t settle for anything less than perfection, and most of this stems from the fact the bachelors of today are heavily affected from growing up in the generation of divorce. For anyone who has kept up with Status Single, this is something I’ve been preaching about for some time. Hell, there wouldn't be a Status Single without these things. Now I have the reading material should I ever teach a sociology class about men in their twenties (which would be pretty cool, if you ask me).

Author, and bachelor, Carl Wiseman, 49, conducted a survey of over 1500 heterosexual men for his new novel “So Why Have You Never Been Married? - Ten Insights Into Why He Hasn't Wed" and has come up with data that proves my theories about why men are less apt to get married younger.

In my opinion, the most important reason Wiseman found for why more men don’t get married sooner today, is that most men are afraid of screwing things up. It’s not fear of commitment that drives them to a lifetime of status single, or the fact they really like no-strings sex, it’s that they are scared to mess up like their parents did. Yep, blame the parents. Sound familiar?

Like most men who lived through it, I remember the exact moment it happened. My mother came into my bedroom early one morning. I was five-years-old. She told me that we were going out that day and when we came back, my father’s stuff would be gone. He wouldn’t be living with us anymore. It was one of the strangest, most awkward, and saddest days and it would change my life forever.

Even years later, until both my sister and I were well into university, my parents used us as weapons against each other. Their children, their common bond to one another, was a perfect way to take their hurt, anger and frustration of a destroyed marriage out on one another. It would mess me up on a lot of levels, but it also taught me that I didn’t ever want to make the same mistakes that my parents ever did.

They made their big mistake by getting married way too young. If my mother got married in 2008, at the age she got married to my father, she wouldn’t be able to drink at her own wedding reception (if she was a U.S. resident). She had two children by the time she was 24-years-old. My parents were practically kids when they started having them. I love both my parents, but Mom and Dad, what were you thinking?

It was more acceptable to be married at a young age back then. In my parents’ case, they barely knew themselves or each other, but knew they liked to have fun and they got along as long as they were having fun. When the parties stopped and real-life adult problems set in, they got to know one another and got to know they did not really like what they saw.

I look at my now re-married father and re-married mother and think to myself, how can these two people have ever married each other? They are as different as oil and vinegar, night and day, Shaq and Kobe, Obama and McCain, Starsky and Hutch.

I’m now in my late-20s and a lot of my friends are married. I’ve been a best man three times over the last five years. My age seems to be the time in which people decide to tie the knot. For those who married younger, this is also the age in which they decide to get divorced.

I have one close friend, we'll call her Andi, who married at 22-years-old. She took the plunge with her long-time boyfriend because she felt it was the right thing to do at the time. Let me ask you this: how much do you really know about yourself and life at 22-years-old? Not a whole hell of a lot.

Some of the things I learned as a 22-year-old include: 1) How much I can drink without puking. 2) I wouldn’t be able to make a career on my history degree. 3) That gay bars generally have the best drink specials and best music. 4) Living alone is the best thing ever. 5) A lot of sex with one person is a good thing.

None of the things I learned as a 22-year-old included how to be a good husband, what kind of woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, or even what I wanted to do for a living. I had no freaking clue about life back then and I feel like my general understanding about all things associated with life and love haven’t improved drastically since then.

I feel for poor Andi. Now she’s getting a divorce after realizing that she married the wrong person. She grew up over the time she was married. She found she likes different activities than her husband, wants kids and he doesn’t, and the person she shares a bed with doesn’t really share the same outlook on anything important to her. These two aren’t bad persons. They simply got older and wiser to what they really want and who they really are.

They are not alone in their situation. An increasing number of people in their late-twenties, early-thirties are getting divorces. An article in The Globe and Mail referred to this phenomenon as "starter marriages." In other words, one needs to get married to someone in order to learn how to properly live and love another human being. They only have to divorce someone to figure it out.

That’s BS, if you ask me. Why go through all the trouble? Why suffer through periods of no sex, marriage counseling, and the ultimate, heart-wrenching conclusion that the person you stood with in front of your friends and family with just will not cut it in the long run? Why not take your time, date as many women as possible, and figure out exactly what it is you want or don’t want from a partner?

Although I didn’t know much about love when I was younger, I knew that I was going to take my time when it came to finding a soulmate. I wanted be sure that the person I chose to marry is The One. I wouldn’t settle for anything less than undying loyalty and passion for and with someone. Anything else – thanks, Mom and Dad, for the valuable lesson – is not enough.

This is why I will be content to being by myself until I’m 100 percent positive I’m taking the right step in accepting someone in my life on a full-time basis. It’s why I remain, and so will remain, status single.

Note: Come back next week when I continue to discuss Carl Wiseman’s book, adding something new to the mix concerning 20-something men and why they aren’t marrying as much as they once did. It’s something I like to call the Peter Pan Syndrome, a disorder that affects more people of my generation than any before it and why men are prone to it in today’s society.

Day 6: Toronto to New York City – Niagara Falls, Into the Clutches of Border Patrol

2008-06-08T16:48:00.000-07:00

Home of the free. If you look like us.

All good things must come to an end.

Six years I had spent as a Canadian resident after a decade in the States and here I was, about to return to Bush-land. Not too happy about that. I was happy, however, because my Friends In Big Cities Tour took me to New York City that night, the mother of all cities in North America, pretty much the center of the universe.

But first, I had to get past the border.

There are few things I hate. Crossing the border is one of them. Think of the biggest jerks on the planet that like nothing more than to take control of your life because they know that there is nothing you can do about it. Seventy-five percent of them have moustaches. One-hundred percent of them have no personality or sense of humour. And despite the fact that I come from one of the most peaceful, serene countries on the planet, don’t have a mean particle in my body, these dudes with a badge were going to find something – anything - so they could f--- with me. I swear, if I were Mother Teresa, they would think I was smuggling drugs in my white headscarf.

After saying goodbye to Kam in the A.M, I drove through the suburbs of Canada’s largest city on my way to America’s largest. Highlights included passing the Sour Patch Kids factory and a bunch of towns a lot of my musician friends have spent time in during Ontario tours – Brampton, St. Catherine's, Hamilton. It was easy to see why they had slogged it out so much in the area. People lived everywhere. From Toronto to Niagara Falls, it was development, city after city.

It’s understandable to me now why Southern Ontarians think they’re The Shit when they come to a place like Nova Scotia, where Bridgewater is considered a thriving metropolis. If I had to be crowded into the most polluted area of Canada with millions of people, living a short car ride away from the U.S., being subjected to American-made (some Canadian made too) acid rain, I might think I’m entitled to something too.

I decided well in advance to cross the border in Niagara Falls. Not only because I wanted to see the falls in person (ever since watching Superman II as a kid when Clark has to save Lois without his superpowers), I thought it would be a good place to cross because it was a vacation destination used by countless Canadians and Americans every day. Piece of cake, right? Just get your duty free and be on your way. Well, it wouldn’t be so simple.

Once I got to Niagara Falls, I choose to wait until I was across the border to check out one of the natural wonders of the world. I figured that if by some chance I got held up by officials, I could revise my daily schedule. I did check out the scenery from the Canadian side and the waterfalls were pretty amazing, but a lot smaller than I had anticipated.

After looking at the falls for a few minutes, I came to the realization that Niagara Falls is a lot like going up the CN Tower or seeing the Mona Lisa – once you’re there and you’ve seen it for 15 minutes or so, you’re like: OK, I’ve been here, seen it, let’s go. It was cool to be able to say I’ve been to Niagara Falls, but really, how long do you need to chill there to get the whole experience? It would be a completely different story if I was dropping off the side in a barrel or watching someone else attempting the feat. That wouldn’t be boring. That would be bad-ass.

I drove over the bridge to the U.S. Customs with my duty-free bottle of Bombay Gin – 40 ounces for $20! - and I was screwed the moment I pulled up to the border booth. There’s not one customs official in the booth, but two. It appeared as though the stocky one with the Mid-Western accent, close cut military hair, fake tan and sunglasses was training the lankier one, a bad sign because he obviously wanted to make a macho impression on him. If there was ever a gay porn storyline ready to happen, then this was it.

I immediately broke How to Cross the Border Quickly and Successfully Rule No. 1: Do not say anything more than you have to. He asked me where I was headed. My mouth started talking and my brain shut down. I told him Texas, but I was going to New York City to visit a friend first - oh no, I didn’t stop there - then I was going to London after I visit my mom. That’s a lot of places, he replies. Uh, yeah.

Then Stocky saw my big, white, Styrofoam cooler in my front passenger seat. He licked his lips in anticipation of bagging another “terrorist” from Halifax, Nova Scotia. Almost nudging his partner, he asked to see my passport. Then he asked what’s in the cooler. I opened it and showed him my camping equipment – paper plates, a fork, knife, and spoon, etc. Although I had nothing to hide, he made me feel as though I had a brick of heroin stuffed into my car seat cushion.

Stocky then filled out this piece of paper, hands it to me, tells me to park my car and go up to the second floor of the customs building. Shit.

The elevator opened to a scene that could have easily been the subway in Toronto. Sat there were people from all over the world, stuffed into a room with one old TV playing CNN, the American channel of choice, along with a week-old newspaper and even older magazines. I waited there for over an hour, a large number of non-Caucasians trickling through the space, patiently hoping their name would be called so they could be interrogated and be on their way.

Finally, my name is called. The officer, who actually wound up being pretty nice to me after I told him I was a resident alien, wanted to know what my status was in the U.S. I had to come clean with him and say that I was legally allowed to work and live in the country with my green card. The problem was, he was wondering how long it had been since I’d been back to the U.S. (which wasn’t too long). He threatened – albeit nicely – to take my green card away since I hadn’t been in America for a while, but I told him that I was thinking about getting a job in the country in order to keep the card (which turned out not to be a lie).

I eventually got my stuff back and was allowed to drive off, a whole two hours later, leaving a large number of people in worse situations behind me.

Here’s what I thought about this whole episode: I understood the importance of border security, yet the only thing I felt secure about was the fact that border officials are great at profiling those people that aren’t the same as them – namely white, Caucasian or rich. You speak a different language other than English, park your car, go to the second floor. You have dark skin, park your car, go to the second floor. There was a large group of Japanese tourists in the room that looked like got hauled off of some bus just to make a point. Two German friends were held up there longer than anyone else. I’m sure that there were very good reasons for those people to be in that room, but the only thing I saw and felt was xenophobia and isolationism at work. The fear of 9/11 continues to pervade over the very fabric of American society. It made me sad to be a human being.

Hours later, I was in New York City via the Holland Tunnel which cost me 8 bucks to go through. I had paid around another 10 dollars that day to use the interstate highway system. Finding non-toll roads to use would have been next to impossible and stretched my already longer trip further. In a country that preaches freedom around the world, I had to pay to move my vehicle and the $50 of gas in my tank, from one place to the next, hitting the brick wall of capitalism working at its finely-tuned, cold efficiency. Welcome to the U.S. of A.

Next up: my time in NYC and how it already has changed my life.

Status Single Sundays: Slow and Steady

2008-06-01T22:03:00.000-07:00

You can’t hurry love.

Whoever said it first obviously isn’t of this generation. In a time where we’re constantly in rush to get things done, where we suffer from constant sensory overload, a digital age of video games, fast-edit television, multi-tasking, ADD/ADHD, prescription pills, emails, instant messaging, peer-to-peer sites, it’s not so hard to see how that this creeps into our romantic lives.

Many men in their 20s think the quickest way to falling in love with a girl is to get them in bed. I think this has something to do with the fact that some of us have played too much Super Mario Brothers as kids or ate too much candy.

I’m here to tell you as the kid who played a lot of Nintendo and ate way too much junk food: thinking sex is the best way to get to know someone is stupid. It’s like making the frosting before the cake, like reading the ending to a really good novel before you even start the first page. It’s someone telling you the plotline of the upcoming Batman movie. When you jump into bed with someone, you’ve taken the helicopter to the pinnacle of Mount Everest without enjoying the view – or hard work - on the way up. You simply skip all the good stuff.

Some of my friends have dated only a few women. A large percentage of these men are now married. They were generally stable individuals that were fine with getting to know a woman at a safe and respectable speed. They took the time to get to know someone before the hot action.

Personally, I live a much different way. A self-admitted hopeless romantic, I believe in love at first sight. I believe in passion. I believe in the “doing what feels good, high-risk, high-reward, give ‘er, go big or go home” mentality. As I get older, I realize this is a silly way to approach romance.

Rushing into something is the easiest way to shoot yourself in the foot before you even get a chance to get to know really know someone. Baring yourself physically leads to inevitable emotional meltdown. It leaves both persons vulnerable and ripe for the impending moment when both are ready to run the other way.

Of course, this isn’t always the case. Sometimes two people have a complicit connection and a relationship can be built from passion. This is akin to getting extra marshmallows in your box of Lucky Charms. It sometimes, though rarely happens.

I’ve met several women that I felt an instant attraction to. So much so I’ve thought, usually in a haze of booze, we totally need to get it on. Like, it had to happen THAT NIGHT. I don’t know why I get that way sometimes. Perhaps it’s because I’m borderline adult ADD and really into instant gratification. Maybe I should blame Contra or Zelda. Something in my brain says, "Forget putting in the time. This isn’t the 19th century. I’m not about to court a girl in her parents’ front parlor."

One night I found myself hanging out with an amazing musician. We had attended a concert together and hit it off. We had previously met once before, so this was the first time we actually spent time together one-on-one. It was all new and exciting. After way too many rum and cokes, we wound up back at my place, and she spent the night.

The next morning we went to breakfast and I felt that we might actually have a chance. We made plans to hang out again later that week. We met for lunch and went for a lovely drive to the beach. Unfortunately, it became apparent that she was getting over a relationship and in no condition to start anything with anyone. I wasn’t looking for anything serious either. Things turned awkward quickly – we didn’t know each other well enough to transition away from the physical to the friendly.

We had gone too fast and it made it difficult to see each other for some time. Only months later did I find out she was a great person and we were capable of having a beer together. We eventually became friends. If I had taken things a little slower, then who knows what could have happened?

Fast-paced, hyperactive living be damned. Where many of us are living like the hare that wants nothing more than to get to the finish line, it continues to be the age-old adage that works best with the opposite sex: slow and steady wins the race.

Day 2 – 6: Toronto - Dfunkt, booze, and the BJs

2008-05-28T10:58:00.000-07:00

I spent three days in Toronto, chilling out with my good friend Kamran Abdi AKA Dr. Dfunkt (see last post for his website addy).

I arrived in Toronto at 11 p.m. on Saturday night. After finding his house in the Dufferin/Ossington section of the Bloor St. district, I finally said hello to Kam and also met Lucky, a good dude whom several of my friends back home know, and Jarrett the guitarist from Kam’s latest backing band. Chuck, Kam’s bassist since his days in Halifax, came over for what amounted to be a bit of an East Coast reunion.

We decided that beer and Jager would be our best course of action. Seeing as it was Saturday night in Toronto, I couldn’t agree more. While Jarrett headed down to an open-mic night to perform what no doubt would be Black Crowes-influenced Southern rock ditties, the rest of us walked down to Bloor St. to hit up a bar called Hurricanes.

This particular establishment proved to be very peculiar. It felt like we had stepped into Dartmouth – all the way from the décor to clientele that hung out there. That said, it had several redeeming qualities. It had plenty of different types of beer. It had cold Jager. And it had NTN Trivia, which is totally the most awesome bar game EVER. Have you ever played this game? Simply put, if you haven’t tried this game, you haven’t lived.

NTN Trivia is this little console that you use to enter answers to timed, multiple choice questions that a player reads from a TV screen in the bar. The games are all connected to a national network of bars across Canada and one competes to see who is the quickest trivia absorbent drunk out there. They used to have NTN in Halifax and I spent hours at Your Father’s Moustache eating, drinking, and answering multiple choice questions to. Before that, I played it at Maggie’s in San Antonio, the moment I was old enough to drink. Am I a nerd? Probably so. But I would also kick your ass at this game.

After the bar, we headed back to Kam’s place for more shit-shooting and beer drinking. Not surprisingly, the 18-pack I had brought from Quebec was gone within two hours. I started fading pretty fast after the beer disappeared and had to crash in Kam’s bed instead of the couch in the living room, where the get-together raged on into the early morning.

Sunday brought sleep until three in the afternoon or so. We were all pretty groggy once we woke up, but not so tired that we took a walk to the liquor store for refills. Kendra, a long-time friend from the Hali-haze days, came over to catch up and we proceeded to share a bottle of vodka between the three of us. Kendra then took me to her local and showed me how to properly use a subway/street car in TO. Bedtime was early that night. People had to work and we were all pretty beat.

The next morning, I woke up sore from undisclosed drinking injuries as well as the lingering effects of the 14-hour drive. Bed called me until noonish, when Kam took me to China Ocean, a superbly cheap Chinese place on Bloor St. One cool thing about Bloor is that it is packed with small, mom-and-pop stores and restaurants. Toronto is a melting pot of people from around the world and they bring their culture to the city. Any block presents a dozen different ethnic foods to try.

We met up with Chuck afterwards and started making our way down Bloor towards Queen, making it further apparent how multicultural the city is. We walked through Little Portugal and Little Korea before heading south on Spadina towards Queen. We went through Kensington Market and checked out all the import shops and fresh produce outlets. It felt as though every country on the planet was getting some love, making me feel small and insignificant, yet part of a global network of individual backgrounds. It was an awe-inspiring feeling.

Of course, beer was also on the agenda for the day and we stopped at a few different places for the odd pint. Musicians with Halifax Connections, Sighting No. 1: there was Ian McGetttigan a la Thrush Hermit and former producer of records of Joel Plaskett and the Superfriendz, with whom looked to be his baby at an Eastern European restaurant.

Musician with Halifax Connections, Sighting No. 2: Maurinda AKA Feral Bliss was spotted walking down Spadina with her husband. I waved her down to say a quick hello. It’s pretty cool to run into people you know in a whole different city than you know them from (cue the music to “It’s A Small World”).

Chuck, Kam, and I walked like we’re on a quest for long-lost Toronto music gold. We see four clubs I’ve always known about, but have never seen: the El Macambo, Lee’s Palace, the Rivoli and the legendary Horseshoe Tavern. All of them are pretty much underwhelming and fall far short than my expectations. They were all cool in their own way, the way that the Marquee Club in Hali has it’s own thing going for it. A lot of musicians I’ve worked with and who have gone on to be stars have played these clubs countless times in an attempt to build their musical careers. Not surprisingly, Halifax-bred acts Joel Plaskett and Sloan are included in the newspaper collages that adorn the wall of the club.

That day we also hit up Kensington Market and the many ethnic shops filled with trinkets and foreign produce. We stopped at an open air smoke out, er, café where a few dozen people were having their mid-day spliff. Me? I had coffee.

Later that night, I had plans to see Iron Man, which I saw in some VIP theatre that reminds me of screening rooms directors have in their houses. The movie was fantastic, with Robert Downey Jr. as the perfect role as Tony Stark. If you want my mini-review, please see my Facebook page.

The following day we relaxed most of the day with a friend of Kam’s. We went to some Greek restaurant for breakfast, where the waiter looked like an older, mustachioed version of Javier Bardem in No Country For Old Men. The food was serviceable on a budget, which was becoming more and more of an issue as days went on.

Full of grease and coffee, we headed to the park to play a little Frisbee and soccer. Nothing reminds you more that you’ve been inactive for so long than running after a flimsy Frisbee. We kiboshed the activities after an hour or so and headed back to Kam’s for a bit of a nap.

Toronto Blue Jays. Those three words have meant a lot to me over the ages. Mostly when I was a young boy who played springtime baseball and watched the Jays religiously throughout the summer. My father and I would catch the games on TV, then go out and throw the ball around, dreams of being a pro ball player in my head. Well, of course, I’m not a pro ball player these days, the highest glory I achieved being the manager of my company softball team, but I still follow the BJs around sometimes (the ball-team, thank you, although the BJs would be a great name for a punk band).

My last night in Toronto happened to fall on $2 Tuesdays. That meant we could buy a ticket in the cheap seats for two bucks! Of course we were all over that. A walk down to the liquor store, a pint of rum down my pants, and a short subway ride later and we were at the doors of the SkyDome (Rogers Centre in this day and age of corporate branding).

***A side note: I discovered the first counterfeit bill in my personal possession at the liquor store. The clerk told me she couldn’t take my fiver. “Why not?” I asked, thinking she was shitting me. “It’s fake,” in most seriousness, looking me up and down as though I was a criminal. “You’re kidding!” I blurted to her in self-defence. “It’s not even the same size.” Sure enough, the counter-five didn’t even fit a regular five-dollar bill. I felt kinda violated and embarrassed. So what did I do? I handed it back to my criminal friend Kam, who walked across the street and used it to buy cigarettes (For the record, Kam isn’t a criminal. Well, maybe a smooth criminal, but that’s a different story).

Our $2 nosebleed seats in hand, Kam and I trek to the upper-reaches of the Dome/Centre to catch the Toronto Blue Jays play the Tampa Bay Rays. The game was pretty fun. The Jays lost 5-4, but there were some good plays and a couple of homeruns. In between innings, Kam and I had to smuggle the rum to the bathroom, fill the 500 ml coke bottles with Bacardi and try to mask our breath from neighbours.

Why did we have to go through all this? Because no alcohol was allowed in the $2 cheap seats. It’s as though the higher-ups thought – hey, if they don’t spend $30 on a ticket, they’ll drink their bloody face off and fall over the ledges of the upper decks. Imagine it: dozens of drunken cheapos, falling off the top levels of the SkyDome to their lushy deaths…

All I can say to that is: they could have made a crap load of money off of legally responsible drinkers. Instead, it was Teetotaler Town on the third deck, all of us (who didn’t smuggle booze in…haha) enjoying the beauty of sport and those steroid-injected monsters that play it, in it’s purest, graceful form. What a load of crap.

After the game, it was back home for an early night, as I had to get up early for a drive to New York City, crossing the border and all its zany fun.

Overall, I see why a lot of people live in Toronto. There are a lot of things to do, a lot of fun to be had, so much different food, it’s central to many big cities in North America, there are a lot of opportunities for young people to do what they want to do, and rent is hella cheap.

Overall, I see why a lot of people hate Toronto. It’s not very friendly, it’s expensive to have a good time, its hot and humid, it’s kinda dingy in some places, the city is massively expansive and it takes forever to get around.

Personally, I had a great time with Kam and the boys. I wish them all the best in their upcoming East Coast tour and their new album.

To those I left behind, that I didn’t get to see, or see enough of, I bid you adieu.

Day 2: Fredericton to Toronto - Driving, poutine, beer, and more driving

2008-05-06T11:39:00.000-07:00

There’s not much to share in the way of details when it comes to driving long distances. Driving is pretty much scenery, cars and trucks, and sitting there for hours on end, trying not to go crazy. It’s a good thing I have an active imagination, otherwise I might not have hair, as the sheer boredom would force me to pull it out for something to do.

The only good thing about driving long distances is that there is something inherently pleasing about getting in your car, looking at an atlas, starting at a point on the map and winding up some place else, far away, several hours later. I drove over the course of three provinces in a day, encountering two different languages and cultures along the way. That’s pretty neat.

Without further adieu, here are the Top 10 highlights of my drive (in relatively chronological order):

1. The Potato Museum

The day started early. I got up at 7 for breakfast with Mel and Steve at Cora’s in downtown Freddy. After only 5 hours of sleep I was on the road, barely staying awake. Even though I had downed two cups of coffee with breakfast and an Amp Energy drink, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. I had to pull over.

Apparently hoping for a rest stop in rural New Brunswick is like hoping people speak fluent English there (everyone speaks French in northern NB). I had to settle for a snooze in the Potato Museum in some po-dunk town. Not coincidentally, the Potato Museum was located right next to a McCain’s french fry plant.

What’s up with crappy museums dedicated to the most random things? The Potato Museum? C’mon. Is that a real tourist draw? At least I didn’t have to worry about some truck driver knocking on my window in hopes of scoring some hot, no-name, parking lot action.

2. Poutine

After my sleep, I was back on the road. One of the great things about driving so far, is you get to go at least 20 over the speed limit. It adds a risky, I’m-a-super-spy-on-a-secret-mission quality to the trip. Here’s how long-distance speeding works: wait for some jerk that’s going hella fast to drive past you. When he’s sufficiently ahead of you, speed up to match his speed, following him until either you or he exits for a pit stop, making great time in the process. Funnily enough, I spotted one car that had past me going well over 30 kms over the limit, pulled over by an NB cop who decided to give him a present in the form of a huge speeding ticket. Haha. Tough break dude. Speed kills.

Anyway, I decided one of my goals for Quebec had to be scoring an authentic poutine. For those not in the know, a poutine is a Quebecois dish that’s french fries with cheese curds on top, smothered in gravy. It doesn’t sound too appetizing on paper, but in reality, it’s freaking awesome.

I stopped in a quaint Quebec hamlet called Montmagny and found the local diner. The server didn’t know much English, forcing me to use my broken French that I had studied in school until first year of university. It brought back bad memories of being the worst French speaker in the class and being scared to actually attend the said class because I didn’t want to be called on to speak in a language I barely knew.

I got through the ordering of the poutine and hamburger pretty well (although there was a misunderstanding with condiments) and sat down waiting for my gravy-smothered goodness to be presented a moi. I actually read the French paper and realized how much better at reading French I was than speaking it. I got through most of an expose on the new Iron Man movie, helped out by the tons of pictures.

Then it was time for the orgasmic poutine. Wow. I never used to dig on poutine until I was convinced that it was good. Well, I don’t have to be convinced any longer because this was Poutine Heaven. Hand-cut fries, big chunks of fresh cheese curds and rich, savoury brown gravy. So. Freaking. Good.

3. Speaking French

Being forced to speak French is kinda scary. It’s the main thing that reminds you, hey, you’re in a different culture now. Despite the “oh shit” factor, I like these types of moments. Life is huge, man, and you’re not the only type of person on the planet. It also gives me a chance to use the French I spent years studying and serves to further the argument that you retain very little from formal education later on in life.

4. Music

One of the few things to keep you sane on long road trips include listening to your music collection and going back to those albums you haven't heard in a long time as well as new stuff you've yet to sink your teeth into. Some of the stuff I listened to over the first couple of days include Portishead's first disc after a decade, 3 (***1/2 stars out of four), Hot Chip's latest Made In The Dark (***1/2 stars), Brit-Box: A Guide to Shoe-gaze, Indie, and Brit-pop (**** stars), and Elvis Costello's Best of Elvis Costello (*** stars). Oh yeah, there was a lot of bad radio (I heard G 'N R probably 50 times), French radio (they sure do speak fast) and talk radio. Radio sucks.

5. Beer

One great thing about the Quebecois besides the hot French-Canadian girls with their hot French-Canadian accents, is that they sell beer in the gas stations, something that doesn’t happen in Nova Scotia (those conservative bastards in NS provincial government need to get over it). I stopped at a Petro-Can and picked up an 18-pack of Molson Dry, one of my fave beers that is not available in N.S. (not only are they conservative, they are fascist too!).

When I ordered, the clerk said something en francais and I had no clue what it was. I told her, “Mon francais et tres mal,” which roughly translates to, “My French is very bad.” Some middle-aged French dude said something to the clerks and I’m pretty sure he was talking smack about me, knowing he could get away with it because I didn’t know enough of his mother tongue to think of a sufficient comeback. I was tempted to beat him with a squeegee in the parking lot, all English-Canadian style – smoke on that, Frenchie! – but I refrained in the name of maintaining inter-Canadian relationships. I wouldn’t want Quebec to get all seperatist on us now.

6. Big cities

Holy crap, I forgot what big cities looked like. After six years in Halifax, pop. 250,000, I drove into Montreal, a sprawling metropolis that took a good hour to drive through, or the same length of time it takes to go through a McDonald’s drive-thru in Halifax at 3 a.m. (don’t ask). I was amazed by the sheer immensity of it all, the gross spectacle of humanity and Montreal Canadiens flags on cars (haha, they were booted out of the playoffs that night).

Toronto was even more grand scale, a city of 4 million peeps living in the biggest urban centre in Canada. Craziness. Driving in big cities when you don’t know where you are can be daunting. I wound up with handcramps by the end of the day from clutching the steering wheel so hard in the four-lane traffic. For the most part, I got through it OK with no problems, mainly because I didn’t stop anywhere or get off the main highways.

7. Wildlife

I saw some Wild Ameri…er…Canada on the roadside. Bambi was chomping on some grass. His friend Thumper was dead on the side of the road. A gopher was checking out the cars passing by, giving a wave. Flocks of Canadian geese were flying north after vacationing in the south. Red-winged Orioles were rocking the nests. Have I told you how bored I was on this leg of the trip?

8. Kingston

I was born in Kingston back in ’79. I spent five months there before my fam picked up and moved to Winnipeg. I only have been back once after that and only to eat at Denny’s on trip number three across the States. As I rolled into the town where it all started, “Bridge Over Troubled Water” started playing on the radio. Storm clouds were in the sky, the strings were swelling in the song, it was kinda emotional that I had come full circle (again) and was back where it started, beginning a new chapter in my life.

9. Driving in the rain/night

After the moment I had in my birthplace and meatloaf at the Denny’s, I got in the car for the last two hours of driving. After mostly avoiding any huge downpours, the skies opened big time and driving became a nightmare. It was also dark at this point and I was highly zombified from the 12 hours of driving I’d already done. Think of a dark carwash with only blurry lines and lights to guide the vehicle and you have an idea of how difficult it is to work a car in that situation. More hand cramps ensue…

10. Drinking with the boys

Finally arriving in Toronto and at my friend Kamran’s place (AKA Dr. Dfunkt – check ‘em out at www.myspace.com/drdfunkt or www.drdfunkt.com), my brain was fried. Still, it was a Saturday night in Toronto and what’s there to do, but partake in some craziness. The 18-pack of beer was opened, we wound up at some dive called Hurricanes and then continued the party until 7 a.m. Let’s just say we all slept in the next day.

Day 1: Halifax to Fredericton

2008-05-02T20:19:00.000-07:00

When I was about 8-years-old, Dana Starkell came to our school in Winnipeg. Starkell was one of two men, along with his father Don, to make the single longest canoe trip in recorded history. The Starkells canoed from the Red River in Winnipeg to the Amazon River, the longest river on the planet via the Red, the Mississippi, Gulf of Mexico coast, the Orinoco river in Venezuela, then the Amazon itself to its mouth in Rio De Janerio.

It was an inspiring story and I read Don's novel, aptly named Paddle to the Amazon, with such ferocity that the librarian asked me to pay for the book after I returned it in rather poor condition, which at the age of 8-years-old was pretty traumatic when your allowance was around two bucks a week.

Anyway, the point is, I've been fascinated by what the world has to offer outside of my immediate surroundings from a young age. I wound up moving to Texas, far from Winnipeg when I was 12, forcing to learn how to adjust to new places. I later proceeded to drive across the States to Halifax or from Halifax to Texas four times before I was 25.

This current trip makes it the fifth time I'm doing it, even though I swore I wouldn't do it again after the third and fourth trips. After two weeks of winding down my business, packing and moving the crap I've built up over the past six years - patience really is a virtue, not reserved for my box of cassette tapes that caught me at a bad time; sorry cassette tapes, enjoy your new home in the dumpster - I'm on the road again like Willie Nelson, seeing new places and new faces, avoiding paying my taxes. OK, not the last part.

Well, I'm seeing old faces tonight. I'm in Fredericton where I'm staying with my friends Mel and Steve, two people I met on the electronic scene. I did get to see something I've never seen before in the Flood of 2008. Supposedly this is the worst flood Fredericton has had since 1973 and the second worst in 180 years. Driving here, I saw houses, RVs, and countless trees under water. I couldn't take the route I wanted because portions of the road were under feet of melted snow and volumes of rain the region had received over the last few weeks. The portion of highway I had to use had water on either side, creeping to the lip of the asphalt. It was like the road was an island unto itself.

Fredericton was just as bad as the Saint John River spilled into streets, closing down portions of the city and downtown serving as a mini Hurricane Juan aftermath - people walking the streeets, assessing the damage to their city. It's definitely not something you see everyday and Steve told me that if the river rose eight more inches, that all of downtown would have been flooded. Crazy stuff.

After an amazing dinner of homemade sushi with lots of sinus-clearing wassabi, I gave James Boyle, manager of Grand Theft Bus and general all-around nice guy a call to see what he was up to. He informed me that the Sleepless Nights were in town at the Capital to play a gig on their current tour. Being a fan of the Nights, and a user of lead muso A.A. Wallace's shed studio this past week to record my first official DJ mix (Acrylic Disco), I headed downtown to say hello to the guys.

I don't know what it is about Fredericton, but hardly anyone goes out on a Friday night. Maybe it gets started late like Halifax, but in Halifax there are people out doing stuff before midnight. Fredericton felt positively dead for a weekend night, just like the first time I visited the city. The bar was empty except for a couple of Frederictonians whom I knew through the Atlantic music scene. They wondered what the hell I was doing in their bar, which was perfectly acceptable. Kyle, the booker of The Capital asked me if I had woken up drunk in the wrong city again. Haha. Kidder. Um...yeah...

I also ran into an old friend whom I met the last time I was in Freddy. She was wearing a wig and cats ears which threw me off, but she was still her spunky self of yesteryear. We ordered a beer, chatted outside for a bit with James, then headed to Le Boum, the resident gay bar, to find the only other Johnston I know to exist. Of course, he'd be hanging out in a gay bar, right?

Actually, Johnston is ironically a DJ at the indie-dance night at the bar modeled after my former monthly, Metal Disco. Unfortunately, Johnston was nowhere to be found, instead living it it up in Montreal. We used the opportunity to score a free shot with the coupon we were handed at the door, though, so all was not lost.

Another quick round at the Capital following a chat with the Sleepless Nights boys who were drinking in their van, and it was back to Mel's and Steve's for some nerderific music chat and downloading, including the latest NIN opus, Ghosts I-IV for me (Score!), and the first Portishead album in a decade(!) for Steve. I have some good driving music for tomorrow - 14 hours of driving in three provinces. Don and Dana Starkell would be proud of me.

Glastonbury line-up so far

2008-04-06T22:28:00.001-07:00

Eat your heart out, bitches.

Acts scheduled to play the Glastonbury Festival (so far!!! About several dozen more to be named in the next few weeks):
-Alabama 3
-British Sea Power (totally going to check them out; Do You Believe In Rock Music? is a front-runner for album of the year)
-Solomon Burke
-Jimmy Cliff
-Leonard Cohen (who needs five nights in Hali?)
-CSS (hells yeah)
-Neil Diamond (now my mom is jealous)
-Dirty Pretty Things
-Pete Doherty
-Editors (one of my fave bands this decade)
-Elbow
-Estelle
-Fatboy Slim (I heart raving)
-The Golden Silvers
-Hot Chip (I heart HC!)
-Jay-Z (H-to-tha-ova!)
-The Krak
-Kings Of Leon
-The Levellers
-Laura Marling
-Massive Attack (if it was 10 years ago, I'd be freaking out)
-Kate Nash (my new gf?)
-Neon Neon (Gruff from the Super Furries awesome new project)
-The Enemy (Great name. They have to be good)
-The Rascals
-The Subways
-Team Waterpolo
-The Thirst
-The Travelling Band
-Frank Turner
-Vampire Weekend (meh)
-The Verve (Yes!!! Saw them in 1998 right before they broke up. Now they're back and with Nick McCabe. This is gonna be sweet)
-The Wombats (One of my favourite new bands of last year)
-Will Young

Live Blog - Operation Glastonbury Festival Tickets

2008-04-06T00:44:00.000-07:00

Time: 4:46 a.m.

I'm sitting at my friend Steve's house at 4:46 a.m. Instead of going home after my shift at the *******, I'm here with my computer in pursuit of my own cultural Mecca, the Glastonbury Festival. Steve and I are planning on attending the mother of all music festivals in countryside UK, about 45 minutes to the west of London. It has over 140,000 fans in attendance, not to mention the 30,000 other staff, performers, and industry folk that come to schmooze, booze, drug and sex all weekend long. I'm giddy with excitement. Like when I was 16 and I bought a ticket to Oasis without telling my mother first. In my excitement, I wake Steve's wife who stalks out of the bedroom, muttering to herself, "Crazy people..."

Time: 5:23 a.m.

We're furiously clicking http://www.seetickets.com/ in hopes of scoring the right to buy a ticket. Sometimes we get a busy page. Sometime we get timed out page. Hugely frustrating. Starting to get a little tired. Steve wonders out loud, "I wonder how many people are doing this right now?"

Time: 5:50 a.m.

This is starting to be like hoping you get that present you really, really, REALLY wanted when you wake up on Christmas morning. If you don't get it, you're disappointed. Sure, I'm moving to the UK, so that's the consolation, but it will be hard to hide the fact that you got fucked out of that Nintendo you've been begging your parents for all year long.

Time: 5:57 a.m.

I'm starting to get really hungry. I haven't eaten since 10:00 p.m. Armview is just down the street. Steak and eggs...steak and eggs...steak and eggs...

Time: 6:07 a.m.

Picture the scene - two guys with their laptops on the living room coffee table, watching hockey highlights. Pressing refresh over and over. For infinity. Did I mention no luck yet?

Time: 6:15 a.m.

We're in!!!! Steve is inputting the registration codes right now. Please don't mess this up...please don't mess this up...

Time: 6:20 a.m.

Uh-oh. Steve enters the numbers to his credit card. The next screen says "Service Unavailable". We now have to resort to refreshing the page and re-entering the card number towards infinity. You would think that the people behind this registration service would know how to make this go smoother...

Time: 6:26 a.m.

We're back to square one when the page sends us back to "Temporarily Unavailable." Fuck!

Time: 6:45 a.m.

We've come to the realization that we may have or may not have scored tickets after Steve presses the 'Submit Info' button 10 ten times. Which means we either have 10 tickets each or none at all. The site keeps bringing us back to the registration screen where we are unable to re-register due to the fact that we had already used certaian information. We give up hesitantly and head out to breakfast.

Time: 5:05 p.m.

I wake up bleary-eyed after being up all night, hoping not to find a story on NME.com stating that thousands of people were left in the dark due to payment server malfunctions. I contact Steve to see if his credit card payment went through. No answer. Nothing on NME.com. If I wasn't so exhausted, I might need a drink right now to settle the nerves.

Time: 5:15 p.m.
Going through my daily correspondance, I check my Gmail account. There's an email from Steve:

"We're in!"

YESSSS!!! Euphoria ensues. Well, as much euphoria one can have on a Sunday afternoon sitting in a desk chair.

I am going to the biggest music festival on the planet to see dozens of the best bands anywhere. I will finally get to say I've reached the peak of music experiences. I will get to say that I've walked up to my thighs in muck. I will get to experience being out of it with over 100,000 other people that are also into the music I love. I haven't been this excited about something in a long, long time. Summer 2008 is going to be amazing.

Return of the writer...and after-hours...

2008-03-15T02:31:00.000-07:00

After a long-hiatus, after-hours in Halifax returned. **********, who started another famous after-hours a few years ago, is out of retirement and ready to provide early-morning entertainment to those who can't find it in them to stay or go home.

I stopped by after work at C*****o **, a long, trying shift that ended at 6 a.m. I walked into a the upstairs of a downtown shop and there were maybe 20 kids dancing in the dark with minimal lighting. ********* was at his usual spot behind the water bar, serving customers. It was nice to see him back in his element although he promised us all he was done with the electronic scene well over a year ago.

It's another reminder that no matter what goes down, the passion for music in someone never dies. I recognize it in myself in that my life largely revolves around music and the music industry. Once it's in your blood, it never leaves - for better or worse.

I wasn't sure I how I felt being there. I mean, I was sober, and just not in the mood to party. I really just wanted to welcome a respected peer back into the scene. A lot of time has passed since I started going to after-hours and giving myself to the mercy of the party, regardless of how I would feel the next day. There was freedom in that, and at the time, it felt like it would never end. The fact is, though, it does end and we must move on for many different reasons.

This is the phase I am in right now. I am moving on. In many ways, I already have done so. It's sad and reassuring at the same time.

This also signifies my return to blog life. I learned a lot from the last time I had a personal blog. Two columns on two failed websites. Flirtation with a column in an actual newspaper. And eventually a shift away from journalism. I pretty much stopped writing for myself nearly a year ago.

It feels good to be back. I don't think I'll ever stop again.