I Really Should Be In Bed...

Darling Daugther

Dearest Friends, I am ill. A nasty summertime Lurgie settled in my head Friday evening and is cooking my brain in a gently boiling cauldron. His wee Lurgettes are painfully kneading my back and neck. Drat. Double drat.

In many ways I think I have myself to blame. Truth be told, I've been feeling somewhat rudderless all week in the absence of la famille; I miss Dearest Wife; I miss Darling Daughter; I miss Little Man, heck, I miss Old Dawg. As a result, I've probably not been taking the best care of myself; too little sleep and not enough healthy nourishment. I fear I effectively gave Lurgie the key to my skull. Sigh...

But though I'm a typical hypochondriac, wimpy male (i.e. right now I'm convinced I'm going to die in my sleep tonight), I know that this too shall pass, and next weekend is Labour Day, which means another Mayne trip. Hooray. Only this time, we're all coming back together. Double hooray.

Compounding my woe and wimbliness is the fact that last Thursday was Darling Daughter's birthday. And though I rang to hear of her chocolate cake and all the nice prezzies and the tasty lunch at The Wild Fennel, I really wish I could have been there. To celebrate, but also to devote time to her younger brother, who's nose got out of joint because no-one was paying attention to him. Double sigh...

So, for Darling Daughter, I give you two songs I sang to her (and Little Man) as lullabies because I was so utterly crap at remembering the lyrics to "Blinking-Hush-Little-Blinkin'-Baby" and "This-Bloody-Old-Bloody-Man." I'm utterly chuffed that both weans now know the words and we still sing them together. But I have to say, they were Darling Daughter's songs first.

Billy Bragg - I Don't Need This Pressure Ron (buy hard copy here or soft copy here)
Known round our way as "The Banging Song"

Ramones - Sheena is a Punk Rocker (buy here)

In other news, (quickly, before I expire), I have been completely smitten by a Magnetic Fields track that the ever tasteful Chere DJ Colleen Crumbcake over at Sugartown. It is a pure piece of happysadbittersweet wistful joy (and it reminds me of an old romantic entanglement of my own, Dear Friends). I've put the track below, but do go to her post since it has some equally delish morsels that you shouls check out.

Magnetic Fields - Luckiest Guy on the Lower East Side (buy here or cybernetically here)

Must. Be. Quick. Strength. Fading...

If you've not done so already, please visit the wonderful writing and photography blogs of the lovely, talented, and large-hearted Ash. You deserve this lady in your lives.

One... Last... Gasp...

I have lately been indulging myself in the rich, lush textures of Marianne Dissard, described by Tuscon Underground as "an ironic waif with a will of steel." And a voice of smoky Parisian velvet backed by mellow Tuscon strumming, I would add. Marianne has collaborated closely with Calexico and the ever-shifting group, Giant Sand. She is on the verge of releasing a solo album, and you can find some of her demos on her myspace page. You can also buy over here a 7-inch vinyl copy (rock the old skool, boyz 'n' girlz!!) of all the demos, with download rights.

Marianne Dissard - Sans-Facon

And with that, off to my deathbead...

*FiL exits stage left, moaning and flapping pitifully*

She Is Now Wherever We Are

Gulf Island Orcas taken by wildorcaimages

She whom we love and lose
Is no longer where she was before
She is now wherever we are
-- St John Chrysostom

This past Sunday we gathered on Mayne Island to bury the physical remains of my Beloved Mother-in-Law, Veronica, and to celebrate her life and spirit. It turned out to be a perfect day.

The service was held by her graveside next to St Mary Magdalene's, the modest, wooden, century-old church where Dearest Wife and I were married almost exactly eleven years ago. There were some twenty of us, family and closest friends. It was a simple affair, led by Thomi and Ellen, the two ministers who had been Veronica's stalwart companions on her spiritual journey. Simple, yet eclectic; among the readings were one of Rilke's marvellous "Letters to a Young Poet" and Veronica's favourite Rumi poem, "The Guesthouse." The relevancy of the latter was illustrated presently by a yellowjacket that decided to sting Dearest Wife between the shoulderblades.

Thomi spoke eloquently of Veronica and her graceful path. She told of how, while coming over to Mayne the previous day, she had seen a pod of orcas preceding the ferry, and reminded us, tearfully, that in Pacific Northwest First Nations mythology great spirits sometimes return after death in the form of these magnificent creatures. I looked over my shoulder down the gently rolling grass hill towards the sun-dappled waters of Active Pass, half expecting to see the killer whales trouping by. I realised, however, that that would have been too much of a coincidence. But I also noted that when they did go by, anyone standing by the grave would have a marvellously clear view of their passage.

And then we buried Veronica. My Dearest Father-in-Law gently placed the Indonesian grass basket containing her ashes into the ground, and one by one we placed handfuls of earth into the grave. I took Darling Daughter and Little Man up for their contribution, and I was very glad I was wearing sunglasses as my eyes were brimming. I was later told that I was not alone by any means. But the symbolic handfuls were not the end; one of Veronica's closest friends picked up the spade and continued to shovel earth into the grave. We truly did bury Veronica.

Following the service we adjourned to the house to chat, to laugh, to eat, to remember. Even my Own embittered Mother seemed to take at least temporary heart from the bonhomie and affection, much to my delight. A rescue operation had to be staged at one point to liberate a guest from a bathroom with a recalcitrant lock. Veronica would have been much amused - or perhaps she was.

That evening, after guests were gone and children bedded down, we headed down the stairs to the rocks at the base of the cliff upon which the house sits. The sky had turned the most unfeasibly gorgeous hues of blue, orange, and pink.

And then the orcas came.

There must have been at least thirty of them steaming first towards, then past us, blowing, spyhopping, breaching, and slapping as they went. A group of about four, including one calf, steered in close to where we were standing. My heart leapt as they porpoised past about thirty feet away, close enough to see their eyes. I had never before been so near to an orca, and Thomi's words rang in my ears, as did those of the closing prayer by St John Chrysostom:

She is now wherever we are...


Popol Vuh - Spirit of Peace (Pt 2) (buy here)
Dead Can Dance - Fortune Presents Gifts Not According To The Book (buy here)
Beasts of Bourbon - Rest In Peace (buy here)
The Pogues - Sally MacLennane (buy here)

Chapter & Verse

Kafka for kids

Hello, Dear Friends, I am back. But I will need to ease into things over the next few days, so please be patient with me as I look for my mojo.

Allow me to start off gently with this week's Contrast Podcast. Yes, through the magic of technology and a wee bit of forward planning, we are being treated to our weekly dose despite the fact that Contrast Capo Tim is sunning himself somewhere on the Mediterranean. We are so lucky that he takes such good care of us...

This week's theme is 'There's More To Life Than Books' (er, of course there is, like music, chocolate, cheese, dogs, and, er, that's about it. Oh, and beer. I mean real ale brewed in leather boots with twiggy bits that stick in your beard, not your pissy, gassy lager lager lager swill. But perhaps I digress...) and our bibliophiles have come up with quite the library of literary works and songs to go with them. Oooh, and we get to hear Marianne's voice again - excuse me while I melt right here...

You can download the podcast via this direct link or use the following RSS feed to become a full subscriber: http://feeds.feedburner.com/ContrastPodcast.

And so to the bookshelves:

(00:00) The Smiths - William it was really nothing
Book: Billy Liar by Keith Waterhouse
Tim from The Face of Today

(02:37) The Buff Medways - Troubled Mind
Book: Notebooks of a Naked Youth by Billy Childish
FiL from Pogoagogo

(06:09) The Beach Boys - Add some music to your day
Book: 31 Songs by Nick Hornby
Heather from I am fuel, you are friends

(10:38) Van Halen - I am the one
Book: Crazy from the Heat by David Lee Roth
Chris from Culturebully

(14:52) d_rradio - Never slept better
Book: Life of Pi by Yann Martel
Mike from Nothing but green lights

(19:27) LN - It don’t matter if you bleed
Book: Vârt behov av tröst by Stig Dagerman
ZB from So the wind won’t blow it all away

(24:40) Spaceman 3 - Revolution
Book: Karl Marx: Selected Writings edited by David McLellan
Colin from Let’s Kiss and Make Up

(31:29) Serge Gainsbourg - Sorry Angel
Book: Les liaisons dangereuses by Pierre Ambroise François Choderlos de Laclos
Marianne Dissard

(35:35) The Cure - Killing an Arab
Book: L’Etranger by Albert Camus
Simon from You can call me betty

(38:36) Golden Smog - Fear of Falling
Book: The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
Natalie from Mini-Obs

(42:44) The Decemberists - Los Angeles, I’m yours
Book: The Replacements “Let It Be” by Colin Meloy
Bethanne from CTASLS

(47:53) Susan Cagle - Shakespere
Book: Thursday Next books by Jasper Fforde
Jamie from squirrelfood.net

(52:35) Manic Street Preachers - The Intense Humming of Evil
Book: The work of Primo Levi
Jamie from The Run Out Groove

(58:24) Mr Bungle - Squeeze me Macaroni
Book: Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
Brian from The Rant

(01:04:15) Leonard Cohen - Came so far for beauty
Book: The Favourite Game by Leonard Cohen
Charlie from Nerdlitter

Like last week, I had little trouble in selecting a track for the podcast. I've also been in blog wildreness for nearly seven days so I can't even point you towards any luscious recent posts. So I've scraped the bottom of my barrel and, rather feebly, I offer you a smattering of book/story/writing/verse related tracks. I know, rather pathetic, but I'll try to do better next time...

Elvis Costello - Every Day I Write The Book(buy here)
The Nails - 88 Lines About 44 Women
(buy here - original EP/LP largely unavailable)
The Sundays - Here's Where The Story Ends (buy here)

Off Again

...and so my heart goes poum poum

Yes, it's true, my Dear Friends, I'm heading away for another long weekend on Mayne Island. While it will be wonderful to see the kids and Dearest Wife again, it will be an emotional time, since we will be laying my Beloved Mother-In-Law's ashes to rest on Sunday. My Own Mother is flying in from New York for the service, complete with her baggage. Much opportunity and need to practice mindfulness.

But my purpose is not to dwell on this. Rather, as I will effectively be starting off my weekend a day early and ending it a day late, I thought the least I could do is give you a few treats that might both get you into a fin-de-semaine mood and tide you over until early next week. Though they've been blogged about from here to Rio de Janeiro and back, I really wanted to get things started with current hipster faves, The Brazilian Girls. Who, in fact, have no Brazilian members. And only one girl.

Can you stand this much naked irony? Just about? Good.

'Jique' has carpeted the blogosphere like dental floss bikinis on Copacabana beach. Ordinarily that would put me right off, because I can be contrary like that. Some of you may remember how long it took me to get Sufjan, simply because I stubbornly refused to heed the hype (others lament that I now get Sufjan, but that's another matter). I picked 'Jique' just before it went supercritical, and I am sooo glad that I did. This is a truly humperful (for etymology see here) track that slinks, bumps, and smoulders all over you, like an anaconda in heat. Silky, sultry vocals that slip in and out of French AND English AND German, oh my! Sabina Sciubba, pour toi j'ai une faiblesse, indeed. Rumbly, grumping, parping keyboards. A soaring bit near the middle. Gosh, it's got me all hot and bothered.

So 'Jique' kicks things off, and I find myself carrying them on in similar sweaty fashion. Lesbians on Ecstasy spinning out a sordid tale of high-school impropriety (small and easily offended people, please make use of the emergency earplugs located under your seat). The sleazo-nihilist duo Sheep on Drugs taking you for a ride on their motorbike. The criminally underrated Wolfgang Press berating you, sucker, against an ominous beat. Al Jourgensen and his pervy Revolting Cocks trying to hump your leg whilst covering Rod Stewart (those not of a nervous disposition can watch them do it here). Linger-ficken fun all round in Big Sexy Land.

Oh my, oh dear, I think I've frightened myself. I'm off to have a cold shower, put on my jimmie-jammies, and snuggle down in bed.

Oh, but just before I do, two things:

First, Galateaa is back. Seems she had been sitting on a house. Or something. Rush over to her place and enjoy her latest!

Second, it's been quite a week for Dearest Rachel over at Untitled. She participated in her first ever Contrast Podcast to everyone's delight (especially the armadillos), she shared with us what makes her rock, and all on top of her usual fine fayre. Kudos and congrats!

See you all next week.

Brazilian Girls - Jique (buy this and try this)
Lesbians on Ecstasy - The Pleasure Principal (buy here or here)
Sheep on Drugs - Motorbike (buy here)
Wolfgang Press - Sucker (buy this fine, fine, fine album here or here)
Revolting Cocks - Do Ya Think I'm Sexy? (buy here)

Camera Obscura, And About Bloody Time Too!

Camera Obscura - The False Contender

Live at the Plaza Club, Vancouver, 24 July 2006

Without further ado, I give you Camera Obscura. Well, that's not quite true. Allow me a bit of ado. You see, Dear Friends, I had fully intended to post much earlier on this most excellent gig, but other things got in the way. Like children. Washing up. Weekends away. Other shiny gegaws that caught my eye and forced their way up my posting priority list. So now, three weeks on, I ask: should I even bother? Will people care? Or is Camera Obscura yesterday's news and now we're onto Brazilian Girls, Ratatat, and Viva Voce? Besides, already some of the finer details are fading from my memory. Or maybe that's due to being walloped in the head by a flying Ryan Adored at the Buzzcocks gig.

Whatever. I'm going to do it. I said I would, and I will. If you don't care, please feel free to hide behind parked cars and roll tumbleweed down my street, whistling like the cruel desert wind...

First up were Shapes & Sizes, a moderately buzzed-about Victoria BC band that recently signed to Asthmatic Kitty, home of Sufjan Stevens. Now I will admit that the sound during their set was mixed most poorly, but I must say I found their performance difficult. Much Deerhoofian sound bricolage (Editor: did that sound poncy to you, readers?). Nothing inherently wrong with that. However, the overall effect was akin to a salad with romaine and chard and avocado and blue cheese and smoked oysters and olives and ranch dressing: tasty individual ingredients, but all mixed together a wee bit hard on the stomach.

And then the Obscuras takes to the stage. Goodness, Traceyanne Campbell certainly looks the epitome of dour. Like the severest of school mistresses. Unsmiling. Clad in a most un-rockish purple belted dress, thick black hose, and sensible flat shoes. Casting serious glances at her bandmates as they set up. Fiddling with the most amazing baby blue guitar. The blokes all look older than I had expected. About my age, maybe (tee hee). Dressed in sensibly smart jeans and Gappish collared shirts. A final look round - everyone in place? And they're off...

Straight into the new album, starting (if I recall correctly) with 'Come Back Margaret.' I know I'm in for a treat as those wee hairlets stand to attention on the nape of my neck and my skin puckers up with goosebumps. Spider sense a-tingling in the bestest possible way. They are a fine and fine-tuned band, playing tightly and fluidly - and yes, that is possible. I am particlarly impressed by Dear Nigel, who throughout the set provides an incredible array of miscellaneous percussion (tambourine, bells, wooden blocks) and trumpetry with meticulous precision. Such loyalty.

The majority of the songs are from 'Let's Get Out Of This Country,' and that album's evocative wistfulness is reproduced with warmth and verve. Oh but Dear Traceyanne, how can a voice so sweet come from a mouth so stern (Editor: dontcha think she's probably tired about everyone crapping on about how dour she appears?)? Ah, but there is finally a hint of a smile. Wry comments about injuries on tour. And at the end of 'Let's Get Out Of This Country' she playfully meanders into the chorus of Paul Simon's 'Call Me Al.' There we go.

And then 'Country Mile.' Pure bliss. The audience at rapt attention. Well, apart from the two clods who push their way past two girls to the front thirty seconds into the song, stand right in front of Traceyanne, and proceed to babble loudly about this and that. Then they have the audacity to request 'Books Written For Girls,' to which a most irritated Traceyanne replies "Why should we bother? You'll just talk right the way through it." Applause. Hoots. Lots of it. The clods implore. Traceyanne sticks firm and moves on. The clods shrink to about two inches tall. Abso-f**cking-lutely righteous.

The set ends, but it doesn't end there. The band comes back for the obligatory encore, and Tracey declares that she feels bad for being "a bitch" and that she wouldn't be able to sleep at night if they didn't play 'Books.' And so they do, beautifully, in spite of health warnings that they hadn't played it live in ages. Pure graciousness and class. Then another couple of songs, and it is really over.

Dear Friends, it was lovely, and all the more so since it was the first concert Dearest Wife and I had attended together since a Billy Bragg gig in London at least seven years ago. Thank you, Camera Obscura, the pleasure was all mine.

I leave you with a selection of songs played that fine evening that are not off the current album, including the object of controversy, 'Books Written For Girls.' Also, as you probably noticed, at the top of the post is a clip from the very show I attended, thoughtfully posted by someone on You Tube. So click away, and you too can pretend that you're right there with me and the missus. If you're so inclined.

I now await the tumbleweed...

Camera Obscura - Suspended From Class (buy here or here)

Camera Obscura - Eighties Fan (buy here or here)

Camera Obscura - Books Written For Girls (as above)

Dedicated to Contrast

Wow, you get TWO posts today, Dear, Lucky Friends. First up, it's Tuesday, which means it's time for another splendid edition, this time the 20th, of the Contrast Podcast. This week's theme is all about song dedications, so tune in and hear who --or what-- moves each illustrious contributor to song. Mine's a sappy one, I fear, so get your insulin jabs in beforehand...

You can download the podcast using this direct link or subscribe to the podcast as a whole (if you're a new-media-sophisticate) with the following RSSS feed: http://feeds.feedburner.com/ContrastPodcast.

Playlist:

(00:00) Ivor Cutler - Beautiful Cosmos
Tim from The Face of Today

(02:07) Conrad Ford - Golden Hearts
Rachel from Untitled

(04:38) James Figurine - 55566688833
Jeff from The DIY Rockstar

(11:42) Neil Young - Harvest Moon
FiL from Pogoagogo

(17:41) The Pixies - In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song)
Brian from The Rant

(19:38) Gym Class Heroes - New Friend Request
Jamie from squirrelfood.net

(24:08) Number 1 I Love You - Be kind to me
ZB from So the wind won’t blow it all away

(27:58) Rickie Lee Jones - Danny’s All Star Joint
Natalie from Mini-Obs

(31:55) New Model Army - Green & Grey
Colin from Let’s Kiss and Make Up

(37:43) Ben Folds - Landed
Tom from Other People’s Toys

(43:03) The Get Up Kids - Valentine
Bethanne from CTASLS

(47:53) Joe Strummer - Ramshackle Day Parade
Charlie from Nerdlitter

(52:05) Neil Young - Like a Hurricane (Live)
Jamie from The Run Out Groove

(58:08) Ennio Morricone - Navajo Joe
Chris from Culturebully

(01:01:29) Howe Gelb - Fools Rush In
Marianne Dissard

Should you feel moved to comment, you can do so here.

This week I didn't really have much difficulty in choosing what to submit, hence there is no runner-up track per se. That said, a recent musing by Dear Colin at Let's Kiss And Make Up on pop and political consciouness set me to ruminating, which in turn caused a certain tune to start playing on a loop in my mind. Maybe I'm also still hung over from last week's Contrast Podcast theme of 'War & Peace,' but I'd like to dedicate the following track to fascists of all stripes and creeds. Wise up, suckers, you're bound to lose!!

Billy Bragg & Wilco - All You Fascists (buy here)

Stay tuned - more posting later tonight!

Tastes of the East

Ganesh

OK, I'm sure that I'm flying in the face of all sorts of sage advice and etiquette here, but I'm about to blog while under the influence.

Yes, I'm slightly tipsy. More like pissed as a newt.

I've just had a splendid meal accompanied by splendid drinks at a splendid restaurant with better-than-expected company (it was a work shindig, after all) and I feel compelled to share this with you.

Vij's. Quite possibly the best restaurant in Vancouver. Not the priciest, not the most sumptuous, but the best.

Modern Indian cuisine done with thought and wisdom and artistry and verve and passion. And without pretense. Not a drop.

No reservations taken, but the 90-minute wait was passed happily quaffing pale ales and noshing on endless circulating platters of pakoras and cassava fries.

The genial Vikram Vij circulates and serves and buses and informs and frets over you.

Sweet, sweet, ripe, ripe mango and bitter gourd in a counterpunctual coconut and date sauce.

Perfect lamb tenderloin cooked as perfectly as a wee lamb tenderloin could hope to be cooked. Encrusted with pistachio and Indian spices, and cloaked in a light cream curry.

Pistachio ice cream laced with cardamom, a spice that makes me weep with delight.

And the drinks.

I was conquered by the Dark Army.

Appleton dark rum. Mango juice. Lime juice. Garam masala.

Ohboy. Two please. Right away. Like a real sour whiskey sour, or a mojito, with a dazzling spiciness.

Dear Friend, if you visit I will take you there and we will have a wonderful time.

And so, a grand reason to post a couple of tracks from a recently rediscovered East-Meets-West album, first heard on a fabulous mixtape made a dozen years or so ago by my Dearest Friend and sometimes commentor, Bishakh. Monsoon formed in the early 1980s as a serendipitous fusion of the delightfully evocative voice of Sheila Chandra and the pop sensibilities of an Indophile producer/writer Steve Coe. A beautiful album and a top ten UK hit ('Ever So Lonely') resulted in 1982, but stifling artist-label conflict ensued, the group shattered, and Chandra went on to pursue a successful, if sidestream, solo career.

So listen to the fluidity, clarity, and exotic lustre of these musical dishes.

Pity there are no Dark Armies to accompany them...

Monsoon - Third Eye and Tikka TV
Monsoon - Shakti (The Meaning of Within)
Monsoon - Ever So Lonely

(Buy the one and only Monsoon album here)

And I promise Camera Obscura next. Promise. You are so patient...

Currents and Tides

Sunset on the Georgia Strait
Somewhere between Mayne Island and Vancouver
July 2006

Dearest Friends, I'm back. But you probably already noted that from the last post. It's just taken me awhile to get fully up and running again. You see, it's this bachelor thing - I'm still trying to re-learn how to fend for myself with Dearest Wife and children away in splendid isolation until the beginning of September.

Laundry. Plant care. Cooking.

And the like.

Pretty pathetic, really. But true.

The long weekend on Mayne Island was lovely. But rushed. Rushed, rushed, rushed. Constant motion, coming and going. Dressing children, taking children out, cleaning children up, feeding children. Getting to market by 10:00 AM to get fresh fruit & veg, minister coming over at 11:00 AM to discuss Beloved Mother-in-Law's graveside service. What to eat, when to eat, where to eat. Pack up, head for ferry, head home, feed, iron shirts, sleep.

Mind you, there were beautiful islets of calm and mindfulness, made all the more meaningful by the background hubbub.

A splendid half-hour spent with Darling Daughter on a rocky seaside outcrop, watching, awestruck and electrified, as a pod of two dozen orcas frolicked, jumped, snorted, and splashed their way past us, not a hundred feet away.

Another spent pootling along a beach with Little Man, collecting shells and sea glass, counting galaxies of outrageously purple starfish, flipping rocks to watch the crabby crabs scatter, and discovering the amazingness of kelp.

But hélas, these islets were only briefly visited, before being covered by a flow tide of mundanities and imperatives.

However, Dear Readers, 'tis powerful strange. The whorling currents, the hectic undertow, the stressful froth, I have a sense that they are all pushing me -- us -- somewhere. Where, I do not know. Nor when. But I have a peculiar, ethereal sense that things are unfolding as they should.

Love & Rockets - It Could Be Sunshine (buy here or, for the cyber-minded, here)

Shifting gears, I have a cornocupia of music, the contents of which I've meaning to share with you for some time. Today it's a couple of local gems that I picked up a few weeks back at the opium den that is Zulu Records. Blackavar is fronted by Vancouver singer-songwriter Laura Cartwright, whose quasi-offkey voice spins a thick, husky web of dark, resonant, folkishness. Think Nico meets Hope Sandoval for a shot of whisky and a smoke in a rambling, tumbledown house filled with poignant memories, heavy disappointments, and rich longings. I find the self-titled album as a whole somewhat uneven, but the knockout tracks alone are worth the price of admission. Music for those tired of summer and yearning for autumnal melancholia.

Blackavar - Murder of Crows (buy here)
Blackavar - Your Eyes (I said, buy here)

The other Vancouver offering I have for you is the shoegazey album 'The Picture Plane' by Hinterland. Yes, it's all there: dreamy vocals by one Michaela Galloway, richly layered soft-LOUD-soft guitars, and more lush texture than you can run your dainty little fingers through. Did I say "Lush?" The band recorded a version of Miki & co's "For Love" for an AC30 compilation - come on, there's nowt wrong with wearing your influences on your sleeve. They're also not adverse to deploying such intimidating instruments as the glockenspiel. This is a fine "newgaze" effort, worthy of your attention, if you're into that sort of thing. I know I am.

Hinterland - Halflife (buy here)
Hinterland - Sirens (or here)

I promise, next post will be on the Camera Obscura gig...

War & Peace

Stefan Landsberger's Chinese Propaganda Posters Pages

"If we are to teach real peace in this world, and if we are to carry on a real war against war, we shall have to begin with the children." - Mahatma Gandhi

Hello Dear Friends! Yes, it's time for your weekly dose of Contrast Podcast, and this week's theme is "War and Peace." As ever, it's produced an outstanding crop of tunes, but, somewhat worringly, it seems to be almost all War and no Peace. Sign 'o' the times, or are all of our contributors bloodthirsty belligerents? Here's the wartrack, which you can either download via this direct link or subscribe to using the RSS feed http://feeds.feedburner.com/ContrastPodcast:

(00:32) Time Zone - World Destruction
FiL from Pogoagogo

(07:18) P J Harvey - Bows and Arrows
Joe from Stage Hymns

(11:15) Motivés - Bella Ciao
SAS Radio

(14:00) The Faint - Paranoiattack
Bethanne from CTASLS

(18:50) Serge Reggiani - le dormeur du val (translation)
ZB from So the wind won’t blow it all away

(20:22) Manfred Mann - With god on our side
Dan from Burning Down the House

(25:44) Robert Wyatt - Shipbuilding
Jamie from The Run Out Groove

(29:33) Skeleton Key - Roost in Peace
Bob from Gimme Tinnitus

(32:46) John Vanderslice - Trance Manual
Richard from Invisible Limb

(37:36) Blue Öyster Cult - Veteran of the Psychic Wars
Rob from The Great Leap Forward

(42:41) Mighty Mighty Bosstones - Our Only Weapon
Charles from Heartache with hard work

(45:46) Live - 10,000 Years
Jamie from squirrelfood.net

(51:07) Orangutang - Leo Tolstoy
Tom from Other People’s Toys

(55:52) Michael McDermott - Hellfire in the Holyland
Natalie from Mini-Obs

(59:55) The Clash - Tommy Gun
Merz from Mars needs guitars

(01:03:48) James McMurtry - We can’t make it here anymore
Chris from Culturebully

In an attempt to bring a bit of balance, let me present the runner-up track that almost made it as my contribution. It's a lovely ditty that cleverly subverts imagery of war and fuses it with a paen to romance and tenderness.

Erm, or maybe it's just an unreconstructed piece of sexist, dirty-ass, 1970s sleaze...

You decide.

Kiss - Love Gun (buy here)

Hold On Tight, This'll Be Bumpy

Dear Friends, I am so very sorry. Truly I am. I am sorry that I feel the need to share with you a song that, for diabolical reasons known only to it, dug its way out of my subconscious a few days back. Since then it has been dancing on my cerebral cortex like your embarrasingly drunk Uncle Ted did at your cousin's wedding last summer. And dang it if I can't swat it away.

So here it is. I warned you.

Loverboy - Working for the Weekend (buy here if you must)

I suppose it is an apposite time to be posting this, seeing as it is a long weekend here, on account of British Columbia Day. I will be decamping to Mayne Island, where Darling Wife and the Childlets have already taken up summer residence, thus leaving me to fend for myself against laundry, cooking, garden maintenance, and other humdrumities. Truth be told, I had been looking forward to a spot of bachelorhood, but apart from the Buzzcocks gig on Monday, it's all been rather mundane. Sigh.

I had hoped to post my overdue impressions of Camera Obscura's Vancouver show, but I fear that will need to wait until next week. Sigh again. But to tide you over, go visit my bestest blog friend Colin. Yes, he's back in glorious Glasgow from his holidays (Hallelujah!) and he's got a prime cut of C.O. for you. Oh, and given all this (Scotland, songs posted by Colin, being ready to be heartbroken) and that (weekends), it seems appropriate to post the following:

Lloyd Cole and the Commotions - Lost Weekend (Get ready here)

Ah, much better than Loverboy. Go on, Lloyd, show Uncle Ted what you're made of.

Oh dear, I fear I'm losing control of this post. I blame ZB, who is probably the best psychotropic substance I've ever come across. Moving right along, here's a bit of Gabby La La, a San Fran area resident who makes sublimely nutty music using sitar, ukulele, toy piano, accordion, Theremin, and girlysqueak voice. Oops, those last bits of sanity are draining away rapidly and scrumdiddliumptiously...

Gabby La La - Backpack (buy here)

OK, time to go. And I leave you with Dirthouse Lapdance from Aggro1. No, don't think about it, not at all. Just mish mash mosh like a mutha while moving your mighty moneymaker.

Aggro1 - Dirthouse Lapdance (Static X vs N.E.R.D.)

Have a lovely weekend, Dear Friends.

Contrast to the North

Contrast Podcast 18 is out today, and boy is it a treat! The tracks themselves are all instrumentals, but the intros are all sung. Ye gods!! And yes, I managed to overcome my fear (but not my tunelessness) and take part. Gird your loins and download it here - it may take some time, but it's worth it. Just remove all glass, small children, and those with nervous dispositions from the immediate area. At least when my bit comes on.

Playlist:
(00:00) Dexys Midnight Runners - The Horse
Tim from the face of today

(02:37) The Beastie Boys - In 3’s
Jamie from squirrelfood.net

(05:25) Essential Logic - World Friction
Brian fron The Rant

(09:16) Alarm Will Sound - Mt. Saint Michel
ZB from So the wind won’t blow it all away

(13:42) The Bad Plus - 1972 Bronze Medalist
Duke of Straw from The Late Greats

(19:50) Nomo - The Book of Right On
Bethanne from CTASLS

(23:58) Serge Gainsbourg - Psychasténie
FiL from Pogoagogo

(29:29) The Smiths - Oscillate Wildly
Jamie from The Run Out Groove

(33:35) Mogwai - Summer
Simon from You can call me betty

(38:02) John 5 - Perineum
Marcos from Mind Booster Noori

(43:21) Jean Luc Ponty - New Country
Natalie from Mini-Obs

(46:35) Nine Inch Nails - Leaving Hope
Cindy from Adzuki Bean Stash

(52:18) dEUS - My little contessa
Coxon from To die by your side

(56:04) Gianfranco Reverberi - Nel Cimitero Di Tucson
Nuno from Undercover Songs

(59:35) Detektivbyran - HemvÃgen 16 A
Tom from My Voice Rising

(01:04:21) Joe Pass - Django
Victor Scott

Next week's theme (suggested by a very flattered me) is "War & Peace," so get mobilized and contribute!

In other news, I extend my congratulations to all the Dear Tykes in the audience, as today was apparently Yorkshire Day. By ecky-thump, I must admit to being rather partial to the county, as I spent a good deal of time oop North during a strangely interstitial year when Darling Wife was working and living in Leeds and I in London. I never did truly master the tongue, but I rapidly fell in love with Old Peculier, Roundhay Park (where I swear I once saw a girl walking her ferret on a leash), Polar Bear Records (now called Soul Alley), Rievaulx Abbey, the North York Moors, fish 'n' chips 'n' industrial-strength tea at Bryan's, and the Turkish Baths in Harrogate.

Sigh.

Nostalgia.

Rememberance of Things Past.

Anyroad, here's some of Yorkshire's finest for you.

The Wedding Present - Why Are You being So Reasonable Now? (buy here or here)

Red Lorry Yellow Lorry - Spinning Around (buy here or here)

Sisters of Mercy - This Corrosion (buy here)

Soft Cell - Sex Dwarf (Isn't it nice? Sugar and spice. Buy here.)

Heaven 17 - Let Me Go (buy here)

The Kaiser Chiefs - I Predict a Riot (totally reminds me of Leeds train station at 11:30 on a Friday night. Buy it here.)

Pulp - Babies (buy here)

The Housemartins - a fantastic acoustic version of Happy Hour (buy here)

Doing It For The Women

So, I have discharged my Blogathon 2006 commitments despite Internet Explorer doing its best to prevent me. Dashed browser crashed out on me halfway through my hour-long stint. After a couple hours of research it turns out that the Yahoo! toolbar was to blame, so I beat the pesky blighter with a large stick and it ran yelping from my PC. In the interim, I deployed Firefox as a backup and was quite impressed with it. Hmm...

OMIGOD! I'M TURNING INTO COMPUTO-NERD!! AARGH! WHERE'D THAT POCKET PROTECTOR COME FROM?? AND MY HAIR! IT'S GONE ALL GREASY!! OH NO, NOT THE MONSTER MANUAL! I'VE NOT PLAYED DUNGEON & DRAGONS FOR EONS!!

Ahem. This is your captain speaking. Apologies for the turbulence. The cabin crew will be resuming normal dinner service immediately.

Anyway, please do hasten over to CTASLS and view the team's Blogathon efforts. And if you want to view my postings, they're here, here, and here. Oh, and bloody well contribute to the cause. Er, pretty please.

And since a) we were doing it for the women, and b) its that dubby comedown time of the morning:

King Tubby & The Aggrovators - Dub Of A Woman (buy here)

Who New?

Dear Friends, the latest Contrast Podcast is out with a bevy of beautiful songs all loosely grouped around that most cheeky of interrogative words, "Who?" I suggest you repair post-haste here to download it.

For those fence-sitters amongst you, let me tempt you with the playlist:

(00:00) P J Harvey - Who the Fuck?
Tim from the face of today

(02:57) The 5678s - Woo Hoo
FiL from Pogoagogo

(05:16) The Hush Sound - Wine Red
Jamie from squirrelfood.net

(08:24) Baby Dayliner - Whodunnit?
Richard from invisiblelimb.net

(12:36) Ron Grainer - Doctor Who
Matt from Earfarm

(16:27) Corrosion of Conformity - Who's got the fire?
Chris from Culture Bully

(19:58) Oceansize - Women who love men who love drugs
G11sus4 from Faces for radio

(26:10) Giant Drag - Who's Crying Now?
Natalie from Mini-Obs

(29:16) The Timelords - Doctorin' the Tardis
Jamie from The Run Out Groove

(33:18) Pearl Jam - Who You Are
Heather from I am fuel, you are friends

(37:42) Cursive - The game of who needs who the worst
Bethanne from CTASLS

(41:43) Theatre of Hate - The man who bangs the drums
ZB from So the wind won't blow it all away

(45:00) Oingo Boingo - Who do you want to be today?
Tom from Other people's toys

(49:00) Jex - Scooby Who
Nuno from Undercover Songs

(52:10) Manic Street Preachers - The girl who wanted to be
Charles from Heartache with hard work

(56:16) David Fonseca - Who are U?
Simon from You can call me betty

I spent a good deal of time dithering over what track to submit, with The 5678's just edging out Jim Carroll's galloping, anguished NYC punk classic, 'People Who Died.' So to ease my conscience, I offer it to you here. Must say it's taken on a different resonance these days for me, as my own list grows...

Jim Carroll - People Who Died (buy here)

*********
And now allow me to introduce a newcomer to the blogging community. After spending time as a welcome visitor to various blogs in the neighbourhood, the lovely Galateaa recently decided to set out her own virtual stall, This Isn't What It Looks Like. I would encourage you to visit, sample her wares, and drop her a comment or two. But be warned: she'll have you dancing in your bedrooms in no time...

Ah, cursed time, you flee so swiftly. Goodnight, Dear Friends.

Sweet Charity

Oh my, is it the wee hours of Tuesday morning already? Has it really been almost a week since I posted? Shame on me.

Big sloppy buckets of shame.

Poured right on my head.

Right, with that out of the way, onto the folk festival. And a confession: I'm afraid there are no sordid stories to tell regarding mung beans. Or macrame.

Sigh, I can feel my credibility pouring away from me like the shame running down my brow.

Truth be told, it was a most Vancouver festival - very genteel, very well-behaved, very comfortable. Plenty of port-a-potties, ample taps to fill your water bottles, evening salutations from the main stage to the setting sun ("We thank the sun for giving it's light, it's warmth...") and loopy dancing. Part of this is undoubtedly due to the demographic: it's largely a grown up event. Baby boomer ex- (and current) hippies a-plenty, folks in or nearing forty, that sort of thing. There was undoubtedly a hipster yoof presence, but the overriding atmosphere was most definitely that of a great, big funky, tie-dye & tofu picnic.

Mind you, it wasn't all a 60s retro love-fest. I watched with amusement as the mostly middle-aged winners of the Birkenstock 500 (i.e. those festies who'd camped out at the gate to run and stake out prime blanket space in front of the main stage) howled "SIT DOWN!" at the indie kids inching in from the sides during Feist's slot (to which The Kidz shouted back: "STAND UP!"). Chalk and cheese ground together as well when Austrian dubsters Dubblestandart shared a stage with grizzled, veteran folkster Utah Phillips. You could tell each thought the other was a shit.

Oh and the music? Most enjoyable indeed. I bathed twice in the flow of Feist's springwater-clear voice. The Mammals put on a fine, friendly early morning (well, 10:00 AM, anyway) Appalachian-flavoured roots show, their able polymath members (including Tao Rodriguez-Seeger, grandson of uber-folkie Pete Seeger) switching instruments between each other with ease. Dubblestandart pumped out some massive deep beats, but again when I saw them it was under the heavy manners of a workshop compered by an unappreciative Utah Phillips. A most pleasant treat came in the form of Zar, a lovely bunch of polite Danish whippersnappers passionately reviving and adapting their country's traditional fiddly folk music.

The Mammals - Profit (buy here)
Zar - Tusind Tanker (buy here)

However, Dear Friends, these were but sideshows, the jugglers and sword swallowers, if you will, to the illustrated lady, the strong man, the dog-faced boy, and the two-headed cow. For I had the pleasure to see four performances that I enjoyed far more than my indie-punk-metal-industrial-C86-mod-synth-goth-shoegazer sensibilities would allow me aforehand to believe I would.

But you'll have to wait to hear about it.

No, please, stop throwing things! I have a good reason!! It's all for charity!!!

You see, I have signed up to participate in the 2006 Blogathon as part of the team put together by the lovely Lady of Lansing, Bethanne from Clever Titles Are So Last Summer. The challenge is to post a post every 30 minutes during the twenty-four hour period starting at 6:00 AM on Saturday, 29 July. That's 48 posts during the period. Crikey! My contribution to the effort will be two blogbits, and I've decided to share my greatest FolkFest musical epiphanies in at least one of them. And no, my decision has nothing to do with inertia. Although I've now come to realise that procrastination can be serendipitous...

So where do you, Dear Friends, come in? Well, we're looking for sponsors to pledge their financial support to this endeavour. Bethanne has chosen to raise money for Global Fund for Women, a body that efficiently and effectively makes grants to women's rights and justice organisations around the world. To register your support, simply click on this link. Every little bit helps, and I thank you for your generosity. Be sure to check back in at CTASLS on Saturday and watch our team weave a web of musical postings that will ensnare you.

Dear Friends, you must forgive me if I seem a little breathless tonight. You see, I just came back from seeing the bittersweetness and light that is Camera Obscura live and in persons. They were lovely. So lovely. And Traceyanne Campbell is just wonderful. Sigh. I promise to tell you more, much more, very soon, but right now I think I'll hyperventilate if I talk any more about them.

"Oi FiL, wot abaht us wot don't like al this soft stuff yer spewing??" Well, my Dear Angry Friends, I have something for you too. You see, today I got in the post my very own copy of the newly released Sex Pistols' 'Spunk' CD (buy here). Yes, that's right, the legendary, bootleg first album containing raw versions of those classic ditties we all learned at Mother's Doc Marten shod feet. Johnny Rotten's voice, huskier and rougher than on 'Never Mind The Bollocks' still brings a shiver to the spine. It also features original bassist Glen Matlock, Steve Jones having done both lead and bass guitar honours on 'Bollocks.' But that's for the trainspotters out there, not you hard lot wanting to pogo a go-go...

Sex Pistols - Feelings (No Feelings)
Sex Pistols - No Future (God Save The Queen)

When You're Young

Yes, yes, I know, you're all dying to hear about this past weekend's Vancouver Folk Music Festival. You'll get your sordid tales of mung beans and macramé, I assure you. Just not today.

The latest Contrast Podcast is now out and I urge you ALL to download it here or subscribe to the RSS feed here this week's theme of "When I Was 16 I Liked..." means it's chock full of raging hormones, delicious fashion disasters, teen angst, and snotty attitude. I also encourage all of you who've toyed with the idea of contributing to the podcast to STOP MUCKING AROUND AND JUST DO IT!!

Sorry.

That was rude.

You see, it's really easy. Just pick a song in keeping with the next podcast's theme, record a short spoken intro and send it along to the nice man wot curates Contrast. It doesn't need to be polished, it doesn't need to be witty, it just needs to be you.

Yes you.

We love you just the way you are.

And we want to hear you.

Next week's theme is simply "who," so get thinking. Tim (the nice man) is giving preference this week to those folk (Aaargh! Granola! Mung beans! Helicopter dancing!! Sorry, flashback.) who've not contributed before. Et je sais qu'il parle francais, alors c'est pas exclusivement pour les rosbifs et les amerloks, hein??

Anyway, my Contrast offering this week is 'Thick As Thieves' by The Jam. That bloody fantastic band provided the soundtrack to my teen years, and every song evokes a memory. The fab songs call forth burningly intense friendships and incandescant ideals. The few crap songs summon excruciating awkwardness and promise unfulfilled. From the angry, modpunk rants of the early albums to the darker, more introspective, almost post-punk middle albums to the Stax & soul influences on their final outings, it's all magical stuff to me.

Truth be told, for the past few years The Jam had been more or less packed away in an old suitcase somewhere in my subconscious. But of late serendipity has been prodding at the latch; an old cassette copy of 'Sound Affects' resurfaces and finds its way into the car stereo, Jam albums appear in the second-hand CD section at Zulu, the lovely Colleen Crumbcake posts an amazing pic of the young Paul Weller in full flow. And finally, Dear Friends, the case has sprung open and Messrs Weller, Foxton, & Buckler have popped out into my conscious, all sharp suits, white shoes, and scissor kicks.

So I give you tonight a selection of the finest Jam, taken from across their catalogue. The tunes on offer are those that I remember blasting out of my boom box on hot summer nights all those years ago.

The Jam - In The City
The Jam - All Around The World
The Jam - A-Bomb In Wardour Street
The Jam - When You're Young (This one's for Rachel. Happy Birthday, my dear!!)
The Jam - Saturday's Kids
The Jam - Boy About Town
The Jam - Precious
The Jam - Beat Surrender

If you're out shopping, the studio albums are In The City, This is The Modern World, All Mod Cons, Setting Sons, Sound Affects, and The Gift. The Direction Reaction Creation box set is a definitive, if pricey, "Best Of." But if you're looking for a quick intro with the key singles (many of which were standalone or on EPs, not the album), The Very Best Of The Jam is very good indeed.

Extra special treat: The Jam doing 'In The City' live at the Manchester Electric Circus, 1977

Getting Festive With The Folkies

Dearest Friends, many thanks for all your kind expressions of support, both public and private - they are of great comfort. I have relayed your messages to the rest of the family, and they in turn send their gratitude by way of reply.

And life goes on, as well it should. We will now attempt (but do not guarantee) to return you to our regularly scheduled programming.

The 29th Annual Vancouver Folk Music Festival kicked off this evening and will be running throughout the weekend. Dearest Wife granted me a one-day freedom pass, so tomorrow I will be pootling on down to the lovely Jericho Beach Park for tomorrow's proceedings. The adjective 'folk', as applied to the fest, has become rather stretched over the years, and the lineup actually includes an impressively wide range of performers, not just your Appalachian fiddlers and dessicating 60s protest singers. Still, I have spent the evening distressing my birkenstocks, dyeing my tie, and braiding granola into my hair so as to blend in with the crowd.

I had been particularly looking forward to seeing Ari Up, (she of the seminal, primordial 1977 punk band The Slits) weave her tribal reggae magic, but unfortunately she has cancelled for unspecified personal reasons. Still, there will be plenty to enjoy. On my 'must-see' list are self-described subversive acoustic traditionalists The Mammals , heavy dubsters Big Bass Theory and Dubblestandart, the raw punk folk of Hammell on Trial, Inuk throat singer Tanya Tagaq, and Broken Social Scene vocalist Feist. I'll let you know how it all goes, but until then please enjoy this smallest of tasters:

Feist - Mushaboom (buy here)

Onto more bits and pieces, odds and sods...

A bit late in the week to tell you, but Contrast Podcast 15 is out and up. It features a whole bushel of Beatles covers, and once again the magnificent Tim Young was kind enough to include my contribution, Laibach's stonking version of Get Back. Nope, I'm not going to post it (Boo, Hiss!) but please do download the 'cast here.

Oh, alright, stop whining. I'll give you a Beatles cover:

William Shatner - Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds (buy here)

There, satisfied now?

Rachel, Coxon, look away now. I mean it. Not looking? OK. For the rest of you, Sufjan Stevens has announced a North American/European tour starting in October (dates here). Tickets have only just gone on sale, but are being snapped up quickly by hordes of wan, wee indie kids. He will be playing Vancouver's lovely St Andrew's Cathedral on 15 October, and I'm pleased to say that I secured my two tickets today to mass at the Church of Sufjan. Only say the word, and you shall be healed. So now I've got four months to indoctrinate Dearest Wife into the ways of Sufjan, otherwise I'll need to find one of those wan, wee indie kids to take along instead.

Sufjan Stevens - The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts (buy here)

Speaking of Coxon, each time I visit his impeccable blog I notice that he hails from Wolverhampton. The only other association Wolverhampton brings to mind are 1970s uber-glamsters Slade. I must admit I quite like them. Indeed, I also like Coxon. So by extension Wolverhampton can't be as bad as everyone says it is...

Slade - Cum On Feel The Noize (buy here)

Tomorrow is St Swithin's Day, and according to folklore whatever the weather is that day will persist for the next 40 days. I'm hoping it won't hail. Actually, the only reason I mention this is to give me an excuse to post an otherwise gratuitous Billy Bragg track. He too is coming to Vancouver, though at over $37 the tickets are a bit rich for my blood. But I do love him so. Sigh...

Billy Bragg - St Swithin's Day (buy here)

Oh dear, that's QUITE enough from me. Frankly I'm surprised you didn't stop me sooner. You are indeed all so kind - thank you for indulging me...

Strands of Life

For Veronica

Tibetan prayer flags

Mayne Island, 8 July 2006

Veronica, my Beloved Mother-in-Law, died on Wednesday, 5 July 2006. She passed away peacefully after a difficult, eight-year cohabitation with ovarian cancer. She had only recently turned sixty-four. Though we all knew for some time that she would be leaving this world sooner rather than later, I cannot quite believe it has happened.

I miss her tremendously. It hurts. And though I feel I want to say so much, I'm not sure how to say it. I fear this will be an inarticulate, fragmentary post.

During her last couple of days in hospital, I witnessed her body decline. Her breathing grew shallower and more laboured, her pulse more thready. Her thin frame had become almost bird-like, as if she were preparing to fly away. The narcotics had finally purchased relief from debilitating pain, but at the price of her consciousness. At that stage, however, it was an appropriate bargain.

The long process of her physical unweaving was nearing conclusion. And in the early hours of last Wednesday morning, with her husband, my Dearest Father-In-Law, present, her skein of life finally unravelled.

And yet I can still see many of the strands that once made up Veronica. They are strong. They are magnificently colourful. They are vibrant. And they are all around me.

I see them in the fortitude and devotion of Dearest Wife, Veronica's child.

I see them in the irrepressible exuberance and impish laughter of Little Man and Darling Daughter, whose very existence was a direct, life-affirming response to Veronica's initial diagnosis.

I both hear them in the folky music she enjoyed, and see them in the quirky little dances she would unconsciously do while listening.

I see them woven into her net of cherished friends, a net that she cast wide and is now drawing tightly together in support and remembrance.

I see them in the memory from a few weeks back, when she thoroughly delighted in the here and now of a summer's evening spent with us all at the UBC Botanical Gardens.

I see them in her mindfulness towards adversity and suffering, bereft of bitterness and imbued with a desire to use every single experience as an opportunity to learn and grow.

I see them in the non-judgemental openness that made her to me as much a friend as a delightfully inherited relative (though I don't think she ever fully understood my love of what she called my "loud music.")

I see, hear, and smell them particularly acutely in the sparkling seas and vast skies of her beloved Mayne Island.

Veronica is gone, but she is not missing. I, we, just have to remember where to find her.

Scatter my dust and ashes, feed me to the wind
So that I may be part of all you see, the air you are breathing
I'll be part of the curlew's cry and the soaring hawk
The blue milkwort and the sundew hung with diamonds
I'll be riding the gentle breeze as it blows through your hair
Reminding you how we shared in the joy of living

-- Ewan MacColl

Joey Ramone - Wonderful World (buy here)

Bourne & MacLeod - Dance & Celebrate (buy here)

Ewan MacColl - The Joy of Living (buy here)

Light Fades

Point Sur Lighthouse at Dusk

Dear Friends, though I am back in town, I fear I may still be scarce. My Dearest Mother-In-Law is nearing the end of her journey through this life. It is only a matter of the shortest time. Probably hours, a few days at the most.

We are all doing our best to help ease and guide her on her way. She is ready to go. But though we all knew it was approaching, the end of this voyage is proving hard, much harder than any of us imagined.

Gorky's Zygotic Mynci - Shore Light
This Mortal Coil - Song To The Siren

The Shoebox Tapes

Dear Friends, though we moved house almost two months ago, we still find ourselves surrounded by the flotsam and jetsam of our material lives. Unfiled files lie on the office floor. Cairns of books await shelving. CDs still cavort unfettered in the living room. Entropy laps at our shores.

To give her the credit and applause she so richly deserves, Dearest Wife has fought --and continues to fight-- the chaos with ruthless efficiency. But there is, I can see, only so much that is superhumanly possible. So I am forced to admit it: Pilbo triumphs aside, I probably haven't been contributing enough to the effort. Bad FiL.

The other night I therefore set about to make at least a token effort to continue disciplining our (mostly my) unruly CDs. That's when I stumbled upon a shoebox nestled betwixt two photo albums. Memory dimmed and curiosity piqued, I opened it. Inside was a clutch of about ten C90 cassettes, the survivors of a brutal, rushed, pre-move cull that saw scores of their brethren either trashed or banished to charity shops. Though the purge itself is a blur, as I dug through the cardboard sarcophagus I realized why these artifacts were spared. Merely looking at them evoked, like a most enjoyable and fast-acting drug, memories, feelings, faces, places. Two in particular caught my eye, and listening to them just brought it it all into more intense focus...

Insert: A hand-drawn manga youth stares intensely out from a fluorescent yellow background, mumbling something cryptic about film noir.
Music: A starry, shoegazey pie of ethereal gossamer. Heavenly. Popguns. Charlottes. Sea Urchins. The Sweetest Ache. And more.
Tape: 'Manheim Dominatrix,' a lovely compilation crafted by one of the Dearest of my Dearest Friends, Bishakh (say 'Hello' to the folks, Beesh)
Date: Circa 1990.
Place: In flux, transiting from the comfortable, familiar structure of American undergraduate study to the freeflow, self-starting opacity of old-skool, English postgraduate academia.
Moods: Effervescently excited, terrified, self-doubting.

Heavenly - I Fell In Love Last Night (buy here)
Popguns - Landslide (buy here)

Insert: Plain, hand-lettered. Don't want to seem too keen, you know.
Music: A painstakingly assembled roster of tunes, each one carefully selected for mood or message. Band of Holy Joy's 'Real Beauty Just Passed Through' - right, she should get the message there. The new vocal mix of 'Belfast/Wasted' - picked for it's sweeping, evocative architecture, and not for the line 'Do you recommend yourself to my gentle senses?' How was I to know she didn't care much for electronica?
Tape: My first musical offering to the woman who would later become Dearest Wife.
Date: Probably November 1992. And yes, it did indirectly get me a date. An excruciatingly awkward one. I had the trout. At least she held my hand on the way back.
Place: The surreal hothouse of Cambridge.
Moods: At the time - giddily gleeful, petrified, maladroit. Today - pleasantly gratified (yes, she and her friends did pore over each song), bewildered (how the heck did we get here from there??).

Band Of Holy Joy - Real Beauty Just Passed Through (buy here)
Orbital - Belfast/Wasted (this version can be found on either 'Volume Three' or 'Best of Volume.' Happy hunting...)

And finally, some miscellaneous notices, if I may:

First, and most important, you may have noticed that marvellous Merz has once again rejoined us at Mars Needs Guitars. I am overjoyed that he has - Merz, you were sorely missed!

Second, Contrast Podcast #14 is up and tremendous Tim was kind enough to include my contribution. The wonderfully gruesome theme is 'Dinner music For A Pack Of Hungry Cannibals,' so do pop round here to have a listen to the ghoulishly groovy tunes on offer.

Third, at work yesterday one of my colleagues and I broke out into an inpromptu rendition of Iron Maiden's 'Run To The Hills.' Don't ask why. However, I was shocked and impressed by the high quality of my Bruce Dickinson imitation- I didn't know I had it in me. Here, try it for yourself:

Iron Maiden - Run To The Hills (buy here)

And last, it will be a few days before I venture again into the blogosphere, as we are off to Mayne Island (y'all should really come out and visit) for the long Canada Day weekend. We hope to frolic with ravens and gambol with orcas, but mucking about in tidal pools and hiking lovely wooded trails will do nicely as well. Thankfully Darling Daughter has recovered from her bug, I've rebounded from mine, and Dearest Wife is also on the mend. We are looking forward to our time away.

See you all next week!

Start the Week

Dear Friends, I want to post but at the same time am not really feeling up to it. Compulsion fights exhaustion. Desire for expression wrestles with sniffings of dejection. So let's see what wins out...

The weekend, I must say, was a good one. Nay, it was a happy one. Even the mundane was enjoyable; on Saturday, Little Man and Daddy set off in search of bagels and somehow, inexplicably, ended up at Granville Island. Eating pizza. By the water. Listening to a pleasantly noodling jazz band. And I don't, as a rule, care much for noodling jazz bands.

A sunny Sunday saw an afternoon visit to the beach, which turned out to be a concentrated burst of Vancouver essence. Sailboats scudding across English Bay against a backdrop of mountains, some still capped with snow. A seaplane making its ungainly way across the sky like a fat duck. A family grilling sausages behind us, chatting in Russian about computer game development. Strident crows chasing a bald eagle away from delectable shoreline pickings. A Chinese teenager in bikini top and micro-skirt teetering across the sand on high-heeled cowboy boots. Occasional bursts of dub rythm blowing down the beach from far away. Teen boys in baggy shorts sluicing across the moist sand flats on wakeboards to impress teen girls. Darling Daughter and Daddy laughing at their own sandy funhouse shadows.

A good, happy weekend.

Unfortunately, the edges started to come unstuck on Sunday evening. Darling Daughter was struck rather suddenly and most unpleasantly by the local stomach bug that's doing the rounds. Cue hours of cleanup and comforting. Monday dawns, and I'm feeling squiffy myself. Cue fervent hopes that it's the mildish cold that Dearest Wife is just shaking off, rather than gastro-germ. Later in the morning, news that the in-laws are returning to town today. They had
intended to spend a week on Mayne Island, but Beloved Mother-in-Law is simply too frail and so after two days they came back to Vancouver. That hits me hard, another reminder that her end is near. Musings on the nature of impermanence don't help - I'm too attached. Then, a call from my own Aged Mother, seeking solace from the solitude of her recent bereavement.

Dearest Friends, I'm feeling drained, so drained, nothing left to give. And it's only Monday...

Depeche Mode - Shake The Disease (buy here)

I did actually drag myself out to Zulu at lunchtime on the pretext of picking up another Camera Obscura ticket (Yay! Dearest Wife is converted and will accompany me to the their show on 24 July), but of course I ended up buying discs. Only two, though. Included in that duo was the latest album from Montreal's Pony Up!, the coyly titled 'Make Love To The Judges With Your Eyes.' I had been quite taken by last year's twinkly, downbeat poplet of a track 'Shut Up And Kiss Me' and what I heard from the listening post this afternoon seemed to reflect the betwixt and between I found myself in. Bright, bubblegummy vocals declaiming not-so-bright, bittersweetish lyrics over ambivalent pop tunes with a wash of grey, if not black. On top of that, in my current frame of mind I could not resist a track entitled 'The Truth About Cats And Dogs (Is That They Die).'

Pony Up! - The Truth About Cats And Dogs (Is That They Die)
Pony Up! - What's Free Is Yours

(Buy here, direct from the label)

I hope you will enjoy.

(UPDATE 28 June, 11:00 AM: Hooray! EZarchive has awakened from its 12-hour coma. You should now be able to sample my delectable wares as normal. Yum, slurp...)