Sailing into New Seas

NOTE: On account of me receiving a C&D order under the DCMA for something unspecified in this post, out come the song linky-linx and in go the YouTube feeds instead.

It's true, Dearest Friends, the good ship SS FiL has embarked on a brand new journey, leaving behind my musical doldrums of 2009 and sailing into a shining new sea of tuneful goodness. And speaking of goodness, well... GOODNESS! If you're still sticking around after that forced metaphor, then you deserve a reward.

So far the start of the year seems to be shaping up all fine and poppy. After the idylls of The Idyllists last week, I've got three bouncy bits for you. First up are The Sleepless Nights, four rather hirsute young fellows from Halifax who produce some fine, slackey pop that motors on by, stopping only to pick you up for a laid back, fuzzy, smiley ride. The band appears to have been driving around for several years now, and are currently touring the East Coast (of Canada, you Yankees! Yes, we have one as well.) in support of their latest EP, The Phone Booth Outside The Video Store. This is in fact the second of a planned three EPs which the band are GIVING AWAY!! Are you dancing right now? No?? Well get with the programme, coz everybody is!!

The Sleepless Nights - Everybody's Dancing (download e-here)

Oh well, no vid for this. I doubt this was the track wot did it, but since it's all getting very perverse out there, you'd best just go follow the link to where you can download tha shizz directly.

Next up are (shhhhh!!!) The Secret History. Y'know, every once in awhile a group comes by that manages to pull together all the really good bits of things that have gone before. So you look at them (one NYC indie cult god, a luuurvely lady singer whose dad is a glam-rock icon, and A.N. Other cute gal) and listen to them (think vocals by a Dusty Springfield/Kirsty MacColl/Morrissey genetic experiment wrapped in hooky, twee, glamness and underpinned by parping farsifa and jangly guitars) and you expect to be disgusted by how contrived it all is. But you aren't, because it's so lovely that you want to snuggle down into it and hug it and kiss it and call it your own.

The Secret History - Johnny Anorak (album comes out 22 March, but in the interim you smug Brooklynites can see them perform various gigs in your very own borough)



And finally, those superb Swedes, The Shout Out Louds are about to release their third album of shimmering, heart-plucking, pop beauties. They're supporting it with what seems to be a grueling tour schedule that puts them in Vancouver on 25 May. Yay!! Yay again!!

The Shout Out Louds - Fall Hard (buy their stuff here and e-here)

Were I a betting man, I'd say I think this was the offending track. But who knows...



And speaking of live shows, I'm excited to say that there seems to be a whole queue of excellent folks signed up to play this fair city from now into the spring, starting with the Vivian Girls on 12 Feb at The Biltmore. This particular Olympic Scrooge may well find himself there instead of watching the opening ceremonies...

P.S. Aren't you glad that, despite my opening paragraph, I played neither Christopher Cross, nor Rod Stewart??

Happy New Year

What did you say, Dearest Friends? It's almost February?? Gadzooks! How did that happen?? Oh well, I suppose it's not yet too late to extend you my heartfelt wishes for a faaabulous 2010, one full of everything that your wonderful hearts desire and that your beautiful souls need.

Truth be told, most of my January was spent confusing my internal clock by slinging myself from timezone to timezone. Indeed, as I type these words I'm going fast, 500 miles per hour, some 38,000 feet in the air over deepest, darkest Saskatchewan. Dearest Mentok, can you see me waving? No?? Oh well, I'd best shut the door before the stewardess gets mad. Only more two hours till glorious Vancouver...

Anyway, back to the New Year. Last year, contrary to my longstanding practice, I made some resolutions, and it would therefore only be right and proper for me to have a look see how I did vis-a-vis my intentions. So, let's have a reckoning, shall we?? And then I might even set some for 2010...

GET IN SHAPE FOR THE 2009 VANCOUVER SUN RUN

Actually, this one I met spectacularly well, if you will allow me to crow, Dearest Friends. I started training with trepidation early in the year, and in the space of four months I went from a wheezing sack of lard unable to run more than two minutes without respiratory, cardiac, and muscular arrest to a somewhat less lardy sack that ran the ten-kilometre Vancouver Sun Run in about 1 hour and 11 minutes. On top of that, I have developed a fairly hardcore addiction to running. Mind you, it has been enabled by the fact that I can run gorgeous routes along Vancouver’s stunning shorelines. That said, I have even set out on the gritty, grotty, grim streets of Toronto, so I suppose I am truly infected with the sickness.

At the same time I was getting hooked, I was following the trials of my aforementioned Dearest Friend, Mentok of Saskatchewan. He had embarked on the South Beach Diet and appeared to be meeting with remarkable success in shedding pounds. While the running was getting me fitter and had resulted in some de-larding, I still felt I could do better. Now I have always been a diet sceptic, but I was particularly intrigued since Mentok is an eminently reasonable chap, not given to flibbertigibbety flights of faddy fancy. So after consulting with him, I embarked on the same path. I shan’t go into the mechanics, Dearest Friends, but it worked. I stand before you some 55 lbs, three trouser sizes, and 1.5 collar inches less of a man than I was a year ago. My whole eating software has been rewritten and I feel great. Never better, in fact. At least physically…

START TAKING GEE-TARR LESSONS

Oh my, total fail on this one. The gee-tarr is still sitting in the corner, untouched, silently gathering dust. But this Christmas Dearest Father-In-Law gave me an amp and a wah-wah pedal to go with it. So this may very well be the year that I do it. In fact, why don’t I make it my first resolution of 2010??

LISTEN TO MORE MUSIC

Erm, another fail, methinks. Somehow 2009 seemed to largely pass me by. Yes, I realize that dabbling in music bloggery can make one unhealthily worried about keeping up with the musical internet Joneses, but I do feel I missed out on shedloads of good stuff. This year I’ll pay more attention. Promise. Another one back on the list...

VOLUNTEER, COS TALKING ABOUT CHANGE ISN'T ENOUGH

Oh dear, didn’t do too well on this one either. Yes, I did volunteer for the Vancouver Folk Music Festival again, and I did work my patootie off during the fest weekend. However, it was in exchange for the major perks of seeing loads of grand music and chatting with the sweet Basia Bulat. Hardly world-saving, is it?? Sigh, must try harder.

SORT OUT THAT THING I SHOULD HAVE SORTED OUT AGES AGO

Ah yes, this was the tough one. Facing a demon that, quite literally, for years caused my knees to go weak, my sweat to flow, and my guts to turn to water. For a while it looked like I wouldn’t be able to do it. I was too scared of my own failings. Then something happened that brought me right to the door of Room 101, so I seized the doorknob, twisted it, and went in. It was a stressful couple of weeks in there. Migrane-inducing stressful. Dearest Wife, Darling Daughter, and Little Man endured a crabby, cranky FiL. But I did it.

And it was OK. Yay.

On balance, then, two abso-fucking-lute successes, one miserable fail, and two not-quite-so-abject failiures. So the list for 2010 is gonna look pretty familiar:

1. Learn how to play the electric guitar. In a punk rawk stylee. Nuff said.
   
   
2. Volunteer. For something other than the Folk Festival. Also ‘nuff said.
   
   
3. Tell more stories. This blog was started in large part as an outlet for me to tell my stories, to write them up on a virtual bathroom wall for y’all to see. Last year, despite some very obvious highs, life unfolded such that my stories got all bottled up inside. And they’re sitting there uncomfortably, needing to come out…
   
   
4. More music.

Let me stop there, Dearest Friends. Oh, I could list more: be a good father/spouse/son, become authentic, etcetera. But in keeping with true corporate management indoctrination, let’s keep those goals SMART: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Realistic, and Timely.

Right, let me get cracking on resolution #4:

Buzzcocks - Promises (buy here)
I hereby promise to keep my resolutions. If I don't, you can roger me sideways with a dead ferret.

The Idyllists - Let's Fly Away (buy the new album here or e-here)
I discovered these lads in my e-mail inbox, all thirsty and hungry as they'd been sitting there for several weeks. The least I thought I could do was give them a listen, and I'm glad I did, as they are a warm & bright pop tonic for the winter months. California goodness mixed with solid Brit sensibilities, with a dash of retro nostalgia for good (great?) measure.

Nothing People - Enemy With An Invitation (buy here)
Oh wow, this is grand - all stark and sweeping and relentless and loud with a burst of the old feedy-backy right at the end. Like an army of those wind-up Japanese tin robots. Only speaking English.

IT'S CHRIIIIIST-MAAAAASSSSS!!!

Waitaminit, that St Nick looks vaguely familiar...

Dearest Friends, here's wishing you a very Happy Christmas and Season's Greetings (as appropriate). I can think of no better way to tell you how wonderful I think you all are than to share with you five of my all-time favourite Chrimbo choonz. If you were here in past years you'll know they're reposts, but enjoy them anyway.

May you get exactly what you want in your stocking. See you after the hols.

The Vandals - Oi To The World (buy here or e-here)
Peter & The Test Tube Babies - I'm Getting Pissed For Christmas (buy here or e-here)
Jacob Miller - All I Want For Ismas (buy here or e-here)
Holly Golightly - Christmas Tree On Fire (buy e-here)
Heat Miser - The Heat Miser Song (buy here)

P.S. There is no Slade here. Apologies to those who were deceived by the title.

The Christmas Invasion

A Roswell reindeer. I barely escaped with my life.

Whoa, so, like, what is it about Chrimbo that makes folks do alien things? Like, drink appalling concoctions such as Baileys, eggnog, and gingerbread lattes. Or spend mind-numbing hours packed into sickening malls along with thousands of others? Or think that a Chia Obama makes the perfect gift??

It must be them space reindeer. Once they lull us into a holiday stupor, they'll laser us with their shiny noses and use us as fodder for their young.

But it doesn't have to be that way; the resistance can start right here:

Just say "No" to eggnog...

Shonen Knife - Space Christmas (buy here)
The Bellrays - Rocket Ship Santa (buy e-here)
Alien Sex Fiend - Stuff The Turkey (buy here or e-here)

Don't Need No Spirit

So this is Christmas. No no, please don't scurry away, I promise you: no more John Lennon!! OK? Are we friends again? Have you stopped screaming?? Good.

I was looking back at my Chrimbo posts from last year and I was struck by how Grinchian and grumpy they were! My goodness, pre-visitation Scrooge had NOTHING on FiL circa December 2008. Much of that was due to circumstances; I shan't go into details, but it was one of those burdensome Yuletides where I knew no matter what happened it was likely to end in stress and tears. Paint that over my inherent dislike of the frenetic consumerism of the season and the overpowering imperative to get into the CHRISTMAS SPIRIT, and I think that just about explains my attitude.

This year it ain't so bad. Our plans are very simple and revolve around our nuclear family. Moreover, I've decided that if the spirit moves me, great. If not, that's fine too. What I'm trying to focus on instead is finding opportunities amongst the Xmas hubbub to share time and enjoy being with thems that matter to me. And so far it's been so good; last weekend I went shopping with Darling Daughter on one of my favourite drags, Main Street. We shopped here and here and here, then we went to the Rhizome Cafe where we had an excellent brunch and I told her about community activism and the power of art. Right on. Then tomorrow morning the whole family is ascending Grouse Mountain for a party thrown by my workplace. There will be lashings of pancakes and eggs and sausages and bacon, and Santa will appear and give out presents. And tomorrow evening Dearest Wife & I are off to a kids-free Chrimbo knees-up. Shit, this year is looking OK...

Since I'm of such good humour at the moment, Dearest Friends, may I invite you to share some noisy good cheer in the garage? I always like to venture in there at least once during the season.

The Dollyrots - (buy here)
Wild Billy Childish & The Musicians of the British Empire - Dear Santa Claus (buy here or e-here)
New Bomb Turks - Christmas [Baby, Please Come Home] (buy here)
The Chesterfield Kings - Hey Santa Claus (buy here or e-here)
The Fleshtones - Run, Rudolph, Run (buy here or e-here)

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To The Toystore

Pieces of childhood

Little Man has been having a few issues at school as of late. An incompetent teacher with the organizational skills of a headless chicken. Work that's frankly waaay too advanced for 75% of the class. And classmates who've taken to taunting him so as to provoke a reaction that usually gets him into trouble.

Sigh. It's tough being seven.

At a meeting between Dearest Wife, myself, Mrs Headless Chicken and The School Principal (who is an awesome steel fist in a velvet glove), it came out that Little Man really enjoys playing with the class supply of Lego. So that got me thinking...

Back at home, I stood on my tippy-tip-toes and pulled down a large, dusty plastic bag from our bedroom closet. I called out to Little Man that he should shut his eyes tight, then I went to the playroom where he was desperately trying not to peek. I gave him the bag, and let him look. His eyes grew wide...

Inside was my entire childhood collection of Lego, a multicoloured jumble of plastic bricks 'n' bits with which I used to construct entire universes. I had brought the whole lot over to Vancouver from New York after years of nagging from Mother to "deal with my stuff in the basement." I had been long intending to pass it on to Little Man, but the right moment had never presented itself. Until now.

We immediately embarked on building a police station, complete with windows, swingy doors, and Lego homunculi. As I rummaged through the bag, looking for THAT precise piece, I began to find bits of unexpected flotsam from my childhood.

A quiver from a Playmobil Indian.

A wooden Tinkertoy connector.

A skipole from a GI Joe arctic warfare set.

A rocket from a James Bond "The Spy Who Loved Me" Lotus Esprit Sportscar Submarine.

Tokens from a London Underground boardgame.

Each unexpected artefact brought with it a concentrated shot of memories, nostalgia, and vivid feelings. It was all actually a bit disconcerting. Thank goodness I had Little Man and a half-built police station to keep me anchored.

Pianosaurus - A Funny Thing Happened On The way To The Toystore (buy here or e-here)
The Maccabees - Lego (buy here)

Tra La La La La I'm Not Listening

Oh, for fuck's sake. I know I've been preoccupied with this 'n' that as of late (children - can't you put them on autopilot or something??), but I wasn't expecting this quite so soon. No, not at all. You see, I was starting to come to grips with the falling leaves and the falling temperatures and the early falling of darkness. I was falling into Fall. But just as I thought I had the fall under control, I was mugged. Most brutally and painfully.

Little Man & I had popped into our local Shoppers Drug Mart (yes folks, it's true, here in laid-back Vancouver we have retail stores selling weed, shrooms, and skag on open shelves) to pick up some codeine tabs for Dearest Wife and her irrepressible bronchitis cough. As we wended our way through aisles of pomade, unguent, powders and carbolic soap, my gaze was wrenched by a display of Toffifee boxes with smiling, rosy-cheeked fat men in red suits.

OMFG! IT'S STARTED!! THEY'RE SELLING CHRISTMAS!! ALREADY!!!

As I reeled in amazement, I was sucker-punched in the ears by a mawkishly mewled version of that bane of Yuletide music: Last Christmas. To make it worse, it was some dreadful cover version - The Cheetah Girls, I think. It were 'orrible, it were.

Sigh. It all seems so desperate, so tawdry: c'mon folks, get into the Chrimbo spirit! Do your bit to prop up global capitalism! Spend spend SPEND your way outta recession! Here, start with this delicious Toffifee...

And THAT song!! Argh!! Truth be told, there are some fine versions of it out there, which I suppose means that the tune itself has some merit. Shame Messrs Ridgeway and Michaels butchered it from the get go. Here, have a listen to these (if you've not been round here for Xmas before), whack one or two on your Xmas partee playlist, and watch Aunt Edna whizz it up:

Xmas Massacre - Last Christmas (buy e-here)
A pretty ripping take by a mysterious Norwegian ska-punk outfit

The Revolvers - Last Christmas (dunno where you can get it, but it looks like this)
Best. Version. Ever. Even if it's by some superannuated German punks.

Jimmy Eat World - Last Christmas (buy here or e-here)
We wish you an emo Christmas...

Sigh again. Christmas has always been something I prefer far more in theory than in practice...

Streaming

6:50 AM, 16/10/09

So the past two weeks have been one blurry stream of numbers and anxiety and cortisol pump pump pumping through my screaming veins, sweeping all else aside. A bitter soup that fed deep, not wholly rational fears. A contrast medium that highlighted my shortcomings.

Heh. And just when I thought I was getting back on track round here.

But yesterday a high water mark was reached and the flow has subsided. For now. And I shall use the clarity afforded to consider those shortcomings...

But this morning, driving to work through a phosphene image of street light traffic light tail light against the a dark, rainy predawn of a dawn that ended up never really breaking, I could still feel the slightly sickening buzz at the back of my head. Twin Crystals provided a focus. Of sorts.

Twin Crystals - Children (buy here or here)

Champagne, Girls, & Hearts

Ich trinke champers mit Herzfisch, sagt niddynoo...

I took yesterday's weather as a sign that it was finally time to purge the last of the summer backlog and get on with matters at hand. The day had started abysmally: suffocated by a smoky grey pall of clouds and drenched in the hard, cold rain that the Pacific Northwest does so well. By mid-morning I was convinced it'd never get truly light, and the subsequent fierce gritting of pea-hail that set off the car alarms outside seemed purely gratuitous. I was musing that summer was well and truly over, when the clouds and hail and rain were suddenly ripped off like a dirty bandage to reveal a newly healed blue sky and a defiantly bright sun.

So one more chance, then.

Lest you think from previous posts that the summer was spent in a hippy-folk haze, I'll have you know that I found time in my schedule for other popular beat combos, thank you very much. In late July I toodled down The Biltmore (a venue I like more in theory than in practice) to see The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart, with whom I had fallen in love earlier in the year. I shan't wax prolific, but suffice to say that they were charming and lovely and wonderful. Their fuzzy dreampop washed off the stage and over the audience like frothy waves of happy ache and yearning, while the band members themselves were graciously sincere and seemed genuinely pleased to be playing to us. Big, warm hugs all round.

The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart - Young Adult Friction (buy here or e-here)

Then there were the opening bands. First up were TPOBPAH labelmates Champagne Socialists, who I mistrusted from the start. Several slightly awkward lads (one apparently of rather good Glaswegian gang Bricolage) strummed and drummed, while a singer with a passing resemblance to Amy Winehouse went through the motions in an uncomfortably am-dram stylee. Oh dear. So imagine my surprise when I downloaded their 'Teardrop Tattoo' and found that their meh stage presence seemed to have camouflaged a pop song that, while rough around the edges, was actually rather evocative and tweely catchy, what with its "woo-ooo-ooo-ooo-oohs" and all. Apparently in the last month or so they've decided to call themselves Neverever, should you be inclined to investigate further. I might be.

Champagne Socialists - Teardrop Tattoo (a 7-inch single for you here)

Next up we had Girls. No, not those kind - it wasn't that sort of a show. I'm talking about two fellows from San Francisco who spun some fine songs out of strands of dreampop, the 1960s, melancholy, bittersweetness, and shimmer. Truth be told, I was unimpressed at first listen. But as thes stood their ground and worked their magic, I was drawn in and found myself both liking it and wondering why I did, particularly since some of their songs did go on for a while. I guess it was all of those beautiful strands...

Girls - Hellhole Ratrace (debut album slated for release on 6 Oct and you can get it here)

Right, summer is now officially over.

Big 'n' Hairy

Ladies & Gentlemen, whether you like it or not...HEDWIG!!

Dearest Friends, it's time to toss your tresses, shake your split ends, and fluff your fringes, coz this week Contrast Podcast has gone all hairy. Yes, this episode is dedicated to all things hirsute and hispid, so get ready for some Vidal Sassoon stylin' and download the grizzled goodness here.

The full range of tonsorial services on offer:

(00:00) PJ Harvey - Hair
Tim from The face of today

(04:20) The Heart Strings - Nina and her very long hair
Kevin

(08:31) Ron Sexsmith - Strawberry blonde
Jeremy from Fingertips

(13:35) The Who - Cut my hair
Adam from Pretending life is like a song

(18:12) The Pretenders - Don’t cut your hair (live on later)
Chris from Culture Bully

(20:49) Cinderpop - Blonder
Marcy from Lost in your inbox

(24:02) Timbuk3 - Hairstyles and attitudes
The In Crowd from I’m learning to share!

(28:05) The Divine Comedy - Bernice bobs her hair
Robert Todd

(33:07) The Early November - Hair
James from Appetite For Distraction

(36:42) One Trick Pony - Scary hairy song
Tricia

(39:11) Barbagallo - Wait
Eiron from Casting the Net

(44:22) Mikrofisch - Bad hair days
Linda from Speed of Dark

(49:26) Fosca - The Millionaire of your own hair
John Q

(55:40) Hum - I’d like your hair long
Bob from Gimme Tinnitus

(01:01:31) Stevie Nicks - Gold and braid
Greer from A Sweet Unrest

(01:08:32) Still Life Still - Planets
Tart from Love Shack, Baby

(01:13:22) Queensryche - Almost cut my hair
Natalie from Mini-Obs

(01:18:42) Vini Reilly - Hairdresser on fire
JC aka The Vinyl Villian

(01:24:04) Hedwig & The Angry Inch - Wig in a box
FiL from Pogoagogo

I had to go with my choice because I've long wanted to contribute a song from Hedwig, one of my most favourite films of all times. Fantastic music, a glorious plot, journeys, self-doubt, authenticity, inauthenticity, trust, love, betrayal - ZOMG, it has it all. And Hedwig herself is a personal hero of mine. Someday I hope to see it in its original staged incarnation.

But as usual, there were other potential choices:

The Locust - Hairspray Suppository (buy here or e-here)
In the end I figured this bit of speedcore chicanery from San Diego's wierdest might be a bit too much.

The Exploders - Put On Your Wig (buy here or e-here)
I seem to have been submitting a fair bit of garage punk of late, so these Toronto racketeers were denied.

Despite my limited output here on pogo a go-go of late, I never missed a single opportunity to submit to the Contrast Podcast. That's not meant as a brag, but rather as an indication of how wonderful I think the CP Nation is. The folks who contribute are a fantastic group of folks, and the eclectic musical joy they contribute is soul-enhancing. Dearest TiM is a demigod for putting it all together for an amazing three-and-a-half years!! And the chance it offers me to dig deep into the cluttered, absurd depths of my mind to pul out my intros has probably been lifesaving. Several of you have said kind words aboutthem, and it gives me unbridled pleasure to think that you might find them amusing. For those of you who find them tedious, I do apologize and hope that your podcast player of choice has an easily operated fast-forward function.

In celebration of the Contrast Podcast (BTW, in case you've never listened and are having difficulty catching the subtext: GO LISTEN NOW!!! THEN CONTRIBUTE!!!!) and in penance for my silence here, I offer you a smattering of tracks that were recently in the running for submission:

Shonen Knife - Cycling Is Fun (buy here or e-here)
Almost made it into CP 178. I luv Shonen Knife and their "Ramones-meets-Peanut-Sisters" vibe. Off to see them next month - w00t!! Peter & The Test Tube Babies - Banned From The Pub (buy here or e-here)
A contender for CP 180, coz you play darts in pubs, so some classic English pub punk would have been in order.

Stereolab - Outer Bongolia (buy here or e-here)
Possible destination for CP 179, as it was the closest I could get to Mongolia in song (Tuvan throat singing aside). But one day I shall visit for real, oh yes...

The Specials - (The Dawning Of) A New Era (buy here)
Though an old track, I considered it for CP 176. Well, I remember it sounding new and fresh to me at some point in my yoof...

Where The Hell Are You???

Here I am, closer than I appear.

Dearest Friends, that's the question Dearest JC posed below. Short, sweet, and shot straight. And it's one I thought best answered by a comeback, plarticularly since he mentioned me in a very kind post of his a few days ago. But how to make my re-entrance? Where to begin?? What to say???

You don't want the litany of reasons, primarily because it'd be pretty banal. An uninspiring mix of work, laundry, garden watering, erranding, that amounts to the taxing reality of summer bachelorhood. Admittedly, there is also the running, which might be a story worth telling, but not now. Suffice to say I've wanted to spend more time here, and the evidence can be found in the half-formed bits of prose that are moldering in the corners of my Blogger "Edit Posts" box. And in my frustration - les visible, but most tangible.

So, I think I have it now -- it's time for a cleanout, a pump 'n' dump, a spray 'n' pray. They will necessarily be the abridged versions (and there still may be some mold stuck to them), but here's the first from the pile of what might have been over the past weeks/months:

I have a terminal weakness for compilation CDs. They make me feel all savvy & clever, getting a brace of killah-not-fillah tracks from multiple bands, all for the price --sometimes discounted-- of one disc. Yes, I know these days you can achieve the same by trawling the net and sampling its wares. Yes, I admit that often the killah to fillah ratio is low. But yah boo sucks to all that, I still love them.

The problem is that I usually get fixated on two or three tracks, and pay scant attention to the rest. Take the "Yes New York" CD that on a whim I tossed into the car stereo the other week. When I got it back in 2003, I locked in on Radio 4's "Save Your City," "Olio" by The Rapture, and DFA's remix of Le Tigre's "Deceptacon." So tracks 2, 8, and 14 got heavy, heavy rotation. Fast forward to 2009 and imagine my utter surprise when track 4 grabs me by the ears and shouts in my face:

I'VE BEEN HERE ALL ALONG AND I'M TOTALLY FUCKING AWESOME!!!

A squealy intro of feedback. Chugging guitar, Fizzing distort,. Shouty vocals. Densely erudite, eloquent lyrics that sliced straight through flesh to plug directly into my soul.

Today I woke up uncertain
And you know that gives me the fits
So I left this land of fungible convictions
Because it seemed like the pits
And when I say, "conviction" I mean it's something to abjure
And when I say "uncertain" I mean to doubt I'll not turn out a caricature

My God, in a flash I got this song so utterly, so completely. I made that trip. It was a pure epiphany, and the only thing the white light/white heat couldn't completely drown out was the little voice screaming "What the Hell took you so LONG???" at me.

So now I'm somewhat obsessed with this song. Somewhat? I mean totally.

Ted Leo & The Pharmacists - The Ballad Of The Sin Eater (buy here or e-here)

And so begins the return. Thanks, Dearest JC, for kicking me up the jacksie. It feels good to be back. To misquote another track that's had heavy airplay in the FiLmobile of late: I won't fade away...

Joy Division - Digital (buy here)

I've Been To The Folk Festival

The Rev. Peyton & his lovely wife, Breezy
Vancouver Folk Music Festival, 16 July 2009
Picture nicked from bswift

Dearest Friends, you won’t believe what happened to me! There I was, minding my own business, when all of a sudden I was abducted by a gang of hippies and folkies! It’s true!! I was held captive for three days during which I was fed nothing but patchouli, quinoa, and Pete Seeger. But that was just the beginning! After they had their wicked way with my innocence, they sold me into the slavery of Real Life!! Oh, the horror!! For a brief while I escaped on holiday, but as I was beginning to recuperate, Real Life found me hiding on an island and once again shackled me to a grindstone. Not the least comfortable grindstone I’ve ever been shackled to, but a grindstone nonetheless. Now I’ve been given a ten-minute loo break, which I’ve chosen to share with you, my lovelies!!

Right, I promised last time to tell you all about the Folk Festival, didn’t I? Well, I had a fantastic time - but not really for all the same reasons as previous years. You see, when I first started going to the Fest, it was purely for the music. Then I started volunteering, and my motivation became 80% music and 20% the volunteer “experience.” Well, this year I was surprised to find that I was equally rewarded by both aspects. Upon reflection, this was partly due to the fact that I wasn’t as galvanized by the music as in previous years; some of it left me unmoved, most of it I enjoyed mildly, and almost nothing triggered an epiphany.

Probably what surprised me the most was Arrested Development, who put on a series of intelligent, uplifting, and storming performances. I had long thought that gangsta and corporate bling had exterminated the Daisy Age in the hip hop wars, but I was inspired to see that there is still a guerrilla campaign of positivity being waged. In addition to their stonking headline on Friday’s main stage, AD’s core participated in a soulful Saturday morning session with Jamaican word warrior d’bi young (whose raw, defiant broadside against sexual violence both chilled and inspired), reggae poet Mutabaruka (righteous, if occasionally heavy-handed), and lyrical activist / mother Lisa Garza (who nearly made me cry).

I had wanted to catch Basia Bulat, but scheduling meant I only saw her perform a couple of songs. However, I later bumped into her eating an ice cream (she likes vanilla, BTW) and had a sweet little chat with her about our common Polish heritage. You see, the Fest is like that: you just run into artists, moreso if you're volunteering. In the kitchen tent I had another nice conversation with veteran Glaswegian firebrand folkie Dick Gaughan (reference: he sings with Billy Bragg on 'The Red Flag' off of BB's 'Internationale' EP). I asked him if he was going to play 'Stand Up For Judas,' which a friend of mine gave me in high school on a compilation tape that was one of my earliest exposures to Billy Bragg. He replied that he no longer played it live after discovering years ago that fans were bringing their religious friends to his gigs to shock them with the song. Though he was critical of religion, Dick didn't want to insult for the sake of insulting, even inadvertently, so he dropped the song from his set. Alas, shift timing meant I couldn't listen to what is in his set these days.

Still in Scotland, The Proclaimers put in an appropriately energetic set on Saturday night's Main Stage. Yes, all the songs you'd expect at one of their gigs were performed, including (natch) 'I'm Gonna Be,' which set the folkie crowd dancing in a sorta gawky pogo-helicopter stylee. A big, crowd-pleasing performance it was, and one that I found pleasant, if largely for reasons of nostalgia.

So, what moved me? Well, I was seriously impressed by Matt Andersen, a mountainous bluesman from New Brunswick whose voice he summons up from somewhere elemental Down South. I only saw him for a few songs, but they were something else. I also enjoyed Kate Reid, but not for the reasons you might expect. Kate does a good line in dyke-folk, in a sorta Ferron-meets-Indigo-Girls-meets-Ani-DiFranco-on-the-edge stylee. Which isn't admittedly my favourite idiom. But what got me was that she has soul. By which I mean she was earnest, righteous, determined, vulnerable, uncertain, honest, funny, witty, direct, unabashed, and celebratory, all at once. After seeing her I wanted to go out, right some wrongs , and hug people along the way.

My one moment of pure epiphany came, appropriately enough, on Sunday morning when I attended the hootin' & hollerin' service of Reverend Peyton & His Big Damn Band. Oh yeeeeeaaahhhhh!! With Reverend P pickin' on gee-tarr, his brother Jayme on drums and pickle barrel, and his wife Breezy on washboard, the Big Damn Band pumped out an electrifying mixture of punk, bluegrass, delta blues, country, and moonshine. This was a stompin' revival meeting at which the Holy Spirit Of Music descended and whacked you upside the head until you spoke in tongues and became a true believer! And just to make the point, Breezy set fire to her washboard during the last song. Phew!!

But enough about the music. At least half of the reason I enjoyed the Festival so truly, madly, deeply was that I had a blast hanging out with, and basking in the glory of, all the wild, weird, and wonderful people I met while volunteering. I once heard the Festival described as a sort of Brigadoon: a magical community that appears once every while out of seeming nothingness, then disappears suddenly, leaving you wondering if you ever really had been there. Now, with few exceptions (i.a. Sweeney Todd, Threepenny Opera, Little Shop of Horrors) I despise musicals, but I think the comparison is entirely appropriate. So a big shout-out to the Chess Nut, Frank the Prof, Magnificent Mairghread and her Team Z Commandos (who came to my aid as I shouted for backup chasing a crazed rogue cyclist through the crowd), Jennifer the Space Station Tracker, Mike the Dipsomaniac, Wistaria, Pascal, all of Team G, and the rest of the exotic fauna I omitted to mention. Slumber well until next year.

Right, loo break over - back to the grindstone. But here, have a few of these:

The Rev. Peyton's Big Damn Band - DTs Or The Devil (buy here or e-here)
Are DTs AND the Devil an option? Cuz I think it's both...

Matt Andersen - Tell Me (buy here)
He deserves to be huge.

Arrested Development - Revolution (buy here)
Get on up!

Kate Reid - Uncharted Territory (buy here)
This is the song that sold me on Kate.

Dick Gaughan - Stand Up For Judas (buy here or e-here)
One of those songs that takes what you know and tilts it on it's end for a different view.

Liza Garza - My Everything (cannae find anything of hers for sale!!)
This is the song that choked me up at the Festival. She sang it acapella, and quite frankly I think the backing music lessens the power. Here, look at this instead - this is much more like it. And yes, she choked up at the Fest as well: