R.I.P. John Entwistle

Lessons In Democracy

I don't recall ever reading William Saletan in The Slate before, but there's a great piece that was posted on Monday called When is a state not a state? When it's Palestinian. Saletan does a superb job dismantling the Bush administration's "vision" for a Palestinian State. Here's an exerpt:

"Normally, when you grant people statehood, you deal with the leaders those people have chosen. Not in this case. "Peace requires a new and different Palestinian leadership so that a Palestinian state can be born. I call on the Palestinian people to elect new leaders," Bush said today. Naturally, Bush demanded this more amenable government in the name of democracy. He also asked the U.S.-friendly dictators of various Arab countries, whose statehood he doesn't dispute, to "work with Palestinian leaders to create a new constitutional framework and a working democracy for the Palestinian people."

It always amazes me how the "leaders of the Free World" and the champions of Democracy seem to have no qualms about pressuring other countries to change their democratically elected leadership. 'Course in some cases, those elections are a sham, but then again, does anyone remember Florida? Still, the audacity! Imagine if some other country, say France or China, demanded that Americans choose a new leader? Come to think of it, since the financial and foreign policies of the US have such direct impact on so many nations around the globe, maybe we should have a say in US elections? People having input into the issues that profoundly effect their lives ñ isn't that a large part of what democracy's about?

And all of this talk about setting up states, like kids drawing chalk lines on the sidewalk. The Jews get a state, displacing the Palestinians, and 40-some years later, the powers that be decide that maybe the Palestinians need a state too. So let's just draw some lines and everybody will live happily ever after. Yeah, that's worked wonderfully in the past. Hasn't caused any turmoil in the Middle East, Afghanistan, Iraq, Kuwait, The Balkans, Africa, Ireland, Korea, Vietnam...

And then there's today's decision by a Federal US Appeals Court that the US's Pledge of Allegiance is an unconstitutional endorsement of religion. It only took ~50 years for someone to reach the conclusion that the phrase "one nation under God" (the "under God" part was added in 1954) isn't consistent with a constitution that champions freedom of thought and freedom of religion (which would also include the freedom not to have a religion). The decision states, in part: "A profession that we are a nation 'under God' is identical, for Establishment Clause purposes, to a profession that we are a nation 'under Jesus,' a nation 'under Vishnu,' a nation 'under Zeus,' or a nation 'under no god,' because none of these professions can be neutral with respect to religion."

Naturally, nobody during the McCarthy 50s was going to challenge that wording, but to me it always seemed like such an obvious manifestation of state-sanctioned religion in a "free" society. But, as with prayer in school, I'm sure it will be hotly contested and probably end up in the Supreme Court, or whatever the next judicial stage would be.

Of course, we certainly aren't immune to that sort of thing up here. I can recall being at several public gatherings which seemed to be attended by people who were likely of many different ethnicities and faiths and belief systems, and what do the organizers do at the beginning?: they ask us to bow our heads and recite the Lord's Prayer! Hello?!

In a similar vein, at work a short time ago I had to proofread a section of our video magazine, and one of the VHS (DVD?) video titles was "The Bible... In The Beginning". The copy describing it read as follows: An all-star cast brings to life the inspiring stories and adventures that have made the Old Testament the most remarkable and dramatic document in the history of man. Includes theatrical trailer. My colleague who writes the video copy, didn't see anything wrong with this (it was likely copy which we picked up from our US parent company). But I try to keep my radar tuned to pick up the US-centric pov ñ e.g., wherever possible, I edit references to "the civil war" and "the President" to "the U.S. civil war" and "The American President", etc. ñ and here the Judeo-Christian-centric pov was just too much. I may yet be convinced that the Old Testament is "the most remarkable and dramatic document in the history of man", but I'm willing to bet that there are other sacred texts, mythologies and stories that would give it a run for its money. Norse Mythology? Greek/Roman Mythology? The Vedas? Probably lots of other creation myths, legends and cosmologies from cultures around the world.

So I edited it to read "one of the most remarkable and dramatic documents in the history of man." And I felt much better. Just doing my bit, changing the world, one mass-marketed VHS tape at a time.

Look at me, gettin' all political 'n' stuff!

Someone Get Elvis A Blog

As I had said in my review of Elvis Costello's 1999 Massey Hall show, the man has a fan's appreciation of music, which is evident in his cover songs (everyone from Gershwin and Cole Porter, to Kurt Weill and Mingus, to Tom Waits, Leon Payne, George Jones, Dusty Springfield, Brian Wilson and The Beatles, and on and on...) and in the many musical styles he's tackled over the years.

That point is wonderfully reinforced in Elvis' current Tour Journal entries, which I stumbled across while visiting his official Island Records web site. He's obviously had lots of time on the bus to write, because the entries are quite long, but he writes wonderfully, with a keen eye and a sharp wit (yeah, there's a big surprise, eh?), and they're quite a fascinating read. When he's discussing what they're listening to and watching on the bus, you really see the fan come out, and it reads like a blog entry from a musically astute friend. Check out this passage, especially his thoughts on watching "The Last Waltz" (a topic of one of my previous blog entries):

"After crawling passed Chicago, we eventually stopped for dinner in Merriville, Indiana. We were happy to be a local curiosity and amusement with our strange accents in return for the gracious welcome. A little further down the road into Michigan we stopped to get gas for the bus and stumbled into one of those rare truck-stops where all the CDs and cassettes (and even a few DVDs) are weird cut-outs at the kind of prices that make you take a few gambles. I had spent several of the recent journeys catching up with movies that I'd missed over the last few years ("Wonder Boys" and "Traffic" being among the favourites). To this we could now add a strange movie set in the 30s with Johnny Cash as a local sheriff bringing a local bigot and despot (played by Andy Griffith) to justice. I could always imagine Big John in this kind of role. The audio swag included a cassette copy of Neil Young's "Harvest" (very welcome, at $5, as we had just been listening to Old Man on the "Wonder Boys" soundtrack), a great Blind Willie McTell compilation and "Super, Super Blues Band", a wild Chess session in which Muddy Waters, Bo Diddley and Howlin' Wolf try to outdo each other on a series of loose jams.

Music DVD's get played pretty often during our journeys. The new edition of "The Last Waltz" makes very poignant viewing these days. The Attractions and I had what must have been bootleg VHS on our tour bus very soon after the original release and we watched it until we knew every word of the interviews. Too many of the people involved have departed sooner than you would wish. I can barely watch the interview with Richard Manuel, he is almost transparent and the wildness that once seemed very attractive now seems only fragile and tragic. I am reminded of my love of these songs. Levon Helm's singing and drumming on The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down is a wonder but it is Rick Danko who stands out for me. His singing is superb on It Makes No Difference (a song that would surely be a "standard" without that weird rhyme about the "stampeding cattle" in the bridge) and there is an unnerving intensity about his performance of Stagefright and his verse of The Weight, a performance that is also graced by the remarkable Mavis Staples. It is great to see Muddy Waters and Van Morrison in such rare form, so the lasting impression is a joyous one. I wish I could have seen the re-released film in a cinema during the recent theatre run.

Another beautiful release is "Down from the Mountain", D.A. Pennebaker's film of the Ryman Auditorium concert featuring music from the "O Brother Where Art Thou?" soundtrack. This film also has a melancholic edge as it contains the last performances of John Hartford. His laconic introductions and beautiful singing and fiddle playing are more moving as he is clearly in the later stages of grave illness. After his passing, I was asked by the producers, T Bone Burnett and Joel and Ethan Coen, to M.C. the companion Carnegie Hall concert. I had the best seat in the house behind a lectern to the side of the stage, rising only to make a few impromptu remarks and introductions. It was completely overwhelming to be just a few feet away from the supernatural Suzanne Cox as she floated her voice into the auditorium during I Am Weary Let Me Rest with minimal amplification. However, when it came to Dr. Ralph Stanley's terrifying solo rendition of O Death, there was nothing else to do but withdraw to the wings and join the hushed cast of singers. Something of this intimacy is caught in the film with the beautifully concentrated close-ups on Willard and Suzanne Cox being the most affecting. I've also been enjoying Dr. Stanley's new self-titled album release (on DMZ). This is a beautifully recorded collection of traditional songs. I recommend Little Mathie Grove to give you a sense of the mood.

A lot of my other listening and viewing consists of CD and tapes that I've been given along the way. Just last night I received a gift of a Roscoe Holcomb collection that will accompany us on the final miles as we head down to Virginia and Georgia. Sometimes I get little chance to really thank people for their gifts, so I send my regards here. It is difficult to respond to every demo tape that I am given, as I honestly feel that my advice, certainly that of a practical nature, is of little value in this wicked world showbusiness. There is no easy answer. It seems that talent is never enough. Much luck is required to advance these days. I do try and listen to everything that I receive, although the system on the bus doesn't seem to like CD-Rs. My favourite gift was a compilation of blues performances from a noted archivist. It contains one number by Howlin' Wolf (with one of my guitar favourites, Hubert Sumlin in support) that makes you realise that something has been lost in the modern performance of music. Hubert is still playing and recording today. He came to a concert of mine a short time ago and I was delighted to receive a framed photograph of the two of us backstage from Hubert's manager just the other day. It will be hang in my music room when I get home."

The section where he describes the somewhat impromptu video shoot for the single "45", somewhere in rural New England, is also quite entertaining.

And it's also nice to know that with the passing of Ann Landers, Elvis will be there to fill the advice void with the web site's Ask Elvis section. Flippancy aside, I found this response quite remarkable and touching.

Question:
Dear Elvis, I'm 15. This may seem like an awkward question from a fan but here it goes. There's this girl that I love so much that it's endangering my health (both mental and physical), and I'm afraid that if I tell her that she'll take it the wrong way and dissappear from my life forever. My moodscape every day is similar to the one you described in "Almost Blue". I was wondering if you had any suggestions to my crisis. P.S. I didn't know who else to turn to.
asked by Max on Wednesday, June 5

Answer:
Iíd been the last person to offer advice but I think you might be right about not mentioning your health. I'm sure it doesnít do any good to be told that you wonít always feel this bad. Maybe youíll always remember these days because those feeling are real. Perhaps it is good that we do so - in the long run. We hurt 'cos we're alive. I suppose that is the reason to write and sing songs, whether they are joyful or melancholy. My only other thought is that you may regret it if you do not find the courage to express your feelings in an honest and unthreatening fashion.
answered by E.C. on Saturday, June 8 1:09 AM

What an incredible exchange! This teenager who says he doesn't know who else to turn to, so he emails the songwriter whose song captures his "moodscape", and he gets a sincere and thoughtful response. What's so funny 'bout peace, love and understanding... indeed.

Here Kitty Kitty

There are some pretty funny things on the web. But I don't know if I've seen anything in the last little while that tickles me like this does:

click for larger view

Arc-Hi-Fives

My archives're back
And you're gonna be sorted
Hey la, hey la
My Archives're back!

Hello, Goodbye

Well, my archives weren't being displayed properly, so I screwed around with the archive template code. Yep, solved that problem all right ñ now they've completely disappeared.

But for every flower that dies, another blooms... i.e., I've added to the archive of my live reviews in my list of links ñ NxNE and Canadian Music Week reviews from a couple of years ago. I think my favourite is the nasty hatchet job I did on Cyclefly. The funny thing behind that one is that my friend Julia actually said that she thought the singer had "nice abs," which I misheard as "nice ass". It works better my way.

Hey, what kinda bait ya usin'?

My niece Tara visited SeaWorld recently, and all she got was a kiss.

Radio Radio

Went to see Elvis Costello at the Molson Amphitheatre last Wednesday. I'm a huge fan, and he didn't disappoint, putting on a fantastic show with The Imposters (essentially The Attractions ñ Pete Thomas on drums, Steve Nieve on keyboards ñ with new bass player Dave Faragher). It was a great mix of classics ("Watching The Detectives", "(I Don't Want To Go To) Chelsea", etc.), songs from the new album, When I Was Cruel , which has been steadily growing on me, and fan favourites like "Mystery Dance" and the creepily obsessive "I Want You", which ended the concert on a particularly emotionally intense note.

I had seen EC with the Attractions for the first time in Detroit almost 10 years ago, during the Brutal Youth tour. Then, as now, he ended the main portion on the show with a barrage of high-energy tunes, barely letting us grab a breath between songs. Just Bam Bam Bam, one after another. It was fabulous! This time the highlight was a similarly rousing near-medley of "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love & Understanding" and "Radio Radio". When that band is revving on high, they are just incredible. Man, they just killed!

Anyway, all this started because of the header, which was actually just meant to point out that I added some links to some of my fave Internet radio stations. So... uh, there they are... and, uh, Elvis rocks!

The Mini-Mizer

"Picture yourself in plastic".

The Good Deed Dude

On the bus coming home from work I was pressed into service to help a little old lady get aboard. She had one of those walkers with the wheels and the brake handle thingies (do those classify as vehicles?), and she was unable to make it up the steps. So I lifted the walker up into the bus for her and held it while she slowly climbed the stairs, reclaiming it once she was fully aboard. She sat next to me and thanked me several times.

When she got off, I helped her with the same procedure, only in reverse. I got off first and carried the walker down to the sidewalk while she gingerly descended the steps. Reunited with her walker on the sidewalk she thanked me again (for the 4th time) and added "bless your heart and socks", the benediction accompanied by a little laugh. I wished her a good day and hopped back on the bus.

For the rest of the journey home I was Sir James of the Bless-ed Socks.

Putting the Peter back in MacIntosh

First the iMac, then the iPod, now ñ the iBong.

So you really can draw on a Mac!

NxNE: The Final Night

Hmm, long time between NxNE installments. Here's the last bit. Subtitle: Saving The Best For Last.

The final official night of the festival, Saturday June 8, started as a busy day. One of my favourite recurring events at NxNE is the SOCAN songwriter's panel, where a handful of songwriters prop themselves up on stools and take turns talking about and performing their songs. You know the routine. It was scheduled from noon to 1:30. Only problem was, I was scheduled to attend Wordstock all day Saturday, a day of seminars and workshops for writers and journalists at Ryerson. It promised some very practical and useful sessions on how to find well-paying freelance work, how to move efficiently from your notes to writing a story, etc. All stuff that I was in need of brushing up on, or at least being reminded of; kind of a butt-kicking exercise. So I was kind of bummed that it looked like I'd have to miss the SOCAN panel. But then I realized that the lunch-hour for Wordstock coincided exactly with the timing of the songwriters' panel. Woo!

So I ended up double-conferencing. I cut out early from the last morning session at Ryerson, hopped on the TTC and hoofed it over the Holiday Inn on King in time for the panel; enjoyed hearing songs and stories from Kathleen Edwards, Dan Kershaw of The Bros. Cosmoline, Martina Sorbara and The Weakerthans' John K Sampson.

It was the first time I had seen Kathleen Edwards, and I was fairly impressed. She seemed kind of dour, but maybe it was the hour. Heh. Was struck by how Lucinda-ish her style is. That's not a bad thing. She did a nice song about her brother ñ lyrics had some very wonderful details that brought it to life and made me smile. She also did a cover of AC/DC's "Let Me Hear The Money Talk" (if that's the title - not a big AC/DC fan) as a country-folk-ish song, and it came off really well. Dan K did a very nice version of "Motel 6". This guy is one smart songwriter. Very intelligent concepts that inform his writing, but it's a very transparent intelligence. Doesn't always bring attention to itself. Like a good drummer. Martina Sorbara actually impressed me more than I expected. I had heard a couple of her songs from her web page, and they seemed okay, though her singing verged on preciousness. And she's almost too cute to be believed. Those long lashes that flirt with her dark bangs, the sparkling eyes, the beautiful, sexy mouth ñ I get the sense she could be the Natalie Imbruglia of Canada. But here at the panel, she sang very powerfully and she proved herself a very accomplished guitar-player (on a beautiful guitar that she made herself! That's impressive.) So I was forced to pack up some of my preconceptions. Will have to check her out next time she plays around town. And, of course, John Sampson was witty and biting with his "I Hate Winnipeg" song, and he spoke about coming out of the punk tradition of songwriting, and how the first rule was to break the rules. Good session, but I could only stay for two songs each, and then I was out the door and on my way back to Wordstock, not even having time for a sidewalk sausage.

[Later that day...]
When I was trying to plan my strategy for Saturday night, I knew I wanted to end the night at the Horseshoe for The Mooney Suzuki at 1 am. And I thought maybe I would take a musico-accelerative approach. You know the type. That is, I would try to start out with something quiet and serene, then move on to maybe something a little more funky, maybe reggae, then some power pop perhaps and then keep revving up the energy until the Mooney.

Didn't work out that way. I did catch Evalyn Parry at Oasis, who was a bit shakier than when I had seen her previously, but was also at the mercy of a bad PA. She seemed to be more political than previously, but still witty and rather enjoyable, ending on a high note with her song "I'm A Rover", which is a traditional-Irish-sea-chanty-cum-lesbian-emancipatory-anthem-type song. You know the type. Then I thought i'd try Australia's Gilli Moon at Lounge 88. The first few bars revealed what a bad idea that was. Too middle-of-the-road. So I scooted back up to College to catch 84 Nash at Rancho. Much better. Good energy. Rockin' young lads. Then onto Oasis to see my friends and former bandmates Heather Morgan and The Company Of Men, which now featured a rhythm section and a fiddle, and almost as many women in the company as men. Heather & co. bravely battled the stifling heat (they don't call it the Oasis for nuthin'!), and played a very good set, even without me :-). Good show guys!
(It was strange actually seeing Heather's face while she sang ñ I was used to seeing the back of her head, as I had always stood behind and to the side of her onstage.)

Then on to the 'Shoe for The Mooney Suzuki (NOTE: not Mooney Suzuki ñ The Mooney Suzuki). Their latest album is oh so appropriately called Electric Sweat. This was about the third time I had seen these New York trash-garage-punkers, and they've blown me away every time. Their musical pedigree (if I can even use that term) owes as much to the Velvets and the Ramones as it does to the MC5. In fact, Electric Sweat ("10 sweat-drenched slabs of electrocuted rhythm & blues!!!") was recorded in Detroit. But they're just so New York. And how do they do it? Attitude! Attitude! Attitude! It's not about melody, or songwriting, or even so much about the riffs ñ it's just 100% sweet manic rock & roll energy.

On overdrive.

Times two.

Squared.

They just obliterated the place. Within minutes of their first song, the lead guitarist was swinging from the overhead pipes and the singer/guitarist (he of the ever-slack mouth, the fly shades and the 'I own you and you love it' posture) had jumped into the fray in front of the stage. There was no winning over the crowd. It was instant conquest. We were theirs from the first kick beat and they knew it. They were the bratty boys from across the street, and we were your sister's rag doll left on the porch with her knickers showing. There was nothing we could do but give it up. But what a surrender. Sweet sweet rock & roll surrender.

You know the type.

Mooney! Mooney! Mooney!

They more than made up for whatever disappointments I had experienced up til then. A sweaty and deliriously wonderful end to another NxNE.

Sound Bites

I look forward to my semi-annual dental appointment... not because I like having tartar scraped off my teeth by sharp pointy implements of torture that make my gums bleed, or even because I like being tilted back in the dental chair at such an angle that the blood rushes to my head while lite rock plays in the background (in fact, I don't know what's worse ñ having sharp metal picks sink into my gums, or having to listen to Journey's "Open Arms" with no escape option), or because my dentist, though overall a great guy, seems to think that my mouth will stretch to meet my ear lobe. No, it's because my dentist's office is located in my old neighbourhood, Yonge & Eglinton, and that means I get to reward myself with a visit to my favourite used CD store, Vortex, on Yonge just north of Eg.

Here's what I made off with this time (I was good, restricting myself to New Arrivals):

In Violate Light, The Tragically Hip ñ was meaning to buy it, and there it was. And they had several shrink-wrapped copies, ostensibly new for $11, which come with The Hip Club card, giving one access to exclusive downloads, etc. I like the idea of The Hip Club. It's neat getting extra stuff in a CD, like the old days of vinyl. I'm sure the prominently displayed acronym/logo on the card ñ THC ñ is pure coincidence.

MapleMusic One ñ MapleMusic's first compilation, released just last week, I think. Check out the line-up/tracks. Good stuff. Also new/shrink-wrapped for about $10 or $11.

The Last Broadcast, The Doves ñ Had read at least 2 glowing articles about them recently, so figured this was serendipitous. Didn't even realize til I got home that it had a 4-song bonus disc. $12. They're playing the Palais Royale tomorrow night. Debating it.

Bramble Rose, Tift Merritt ñ The sweetheart of the NxNE rodeo. Again, serendipity knocks. That's what I love about shopping for used CDs. Let Fate be your guide.

Standing On Guard For Fees

Thank you Bank Of Nova Scotia for taking the money and running Canada's small publishing houses into the ground.

I would like to urge anyone who does business with BNS to take your business elsewhere. Not that any of the other big banks are much better, but it's very important that BNS gets the message that we know they had a chance to make a real contribution to Canadian culture, and instead went for the money and for their own self-interest. Next time you see one of their ads or other corporate releases claiming to be your friend and Canada's friend ñ spit on it.

NxNE: Night 2

For Friday night I decided that C'est What would be the place for me. I definitely wanted to see Winnipeg's Christine Fellows, who was playing there at midnight. I had received her latest album, The Last One Standing, as a submission to my Showcase page, and was mightily impressed. She'll be appearing in the next issue of the mag.

The other bands I would have wanted to see at other venues were either local artists, or those who will likely be coming back soon, such as Starling, who have a new CD to plug. And even though it's tough to pass up Jim Bryson, the logistics just weren't working in my favour.

So I settled in at C'est What, nabbing a stool at the end of the bar in that little alcove-type place that every live music bar should have ó an area that affords a brilliant view of the stage, stools to perch on with the option of back support from the bar, and, with a quick swivel, direct access to the bar staff!

Mia Sheard was first up, she of the choir-trained voice and the razor-sharp mind. Last time I caught Mia she was playing a solo acoustic set at the Rivoli, and apologizing for what she deemed her lack of guitar skills. Here she was wearing a cherry-red Gibson SG electric and rocking out with a crack band. Lovely version of veal's "Mexico Texaco" and "Cover Girl". Good start to the night.

Next up, Ellen Reid of the Crashtest Dummies. She played electric piano accompanied by a guy on acoustic guitar. Other than her cover of XTC's "Peter Pumpkinhead", which the Dummies had a bit of a hit with, nothing much about her set stuck with me. Her stage presence was a kind of forced goofiness. Not enough to be truly annoying, but enough to make me not really care.

So, on to Priya Thomas, who was a bit of a buzz girl at CMW back in March. Girl With Beatbox, she's being billed as. I think that's the name of her latest CD as well. The music wasn't too bad, but it wasn't anything special either. But what really annoyed me were her scissoring arm and leg movements while she wasn't singing. She obviously felt that she needed to add something to her act. That's usually a sign that the music isn't strong enough to carry the load by itself. To test my hypothesis, I closed my eyes for about 30 seconds, and just listened. Yep, pretty uninteresting. Girl With Beatbox? Girl With Gimmick is more like it.

And the music on the beatbox wasn't anything bizarre or particularly hard to reproduce, just essentially drums and bass and keys, so why not just hire a band? Particularly ironic since this was a SOCAN event! She's just been signed by The Management Trust, the same people who manage The Hip and the Watchmen. I think they must have been swept up by the hype.

Then came Christine Fellows, whose electric piano was set up just to the right of centre stage, cello to her right, one main drummer, one secondary drummer on one of those baby drum kits and other percussion, and a guitarist on each corner of the stage (one had to stand on the floor). I may be forgetting someone. She was great. Played all my favourite songs from her latest album. Wonderful wonderful. The percussionist was doing the coolest thing. When they were setting up, I saw that he had a saw (er, I seen that he... uh... oh, never mind), which I assumed he would play as a "singing saw" , but there came a point in the set where I heard this ratcheting sound, and I noticed that he seemed to be "bowing" his snare. It became evident, though, that he was actually drawing the teeth of the saw upwards across the rim of the snare! Very cool.

Afterwards I approached Christine to say hello and introduce myself (we had had a fairly enjoyable and often silly phone interview earlier in the week), but I don't think it really registered with her. She seemed in some kind of post-gig haze or something. Whether naturally induced or not, I don't know. 'Course I was a little hazy myself, so I just hung out a bit, helped John Sampson load some of Christine's gear into the van (they had sooo much gear, between the cello cases and such, and no one else was helping), and then I bopped on home, generally feeling more satisfied than the stale taste in my mouth from the previous night.

Mot du jour

Ooh, I like today's Word of the Day from Dictionary.com.

Word of the Day for Thursday June 13, 2002:

rubicund \ROO-bih-kund\, adjective:
Inclining to redness; ruddy; red.

The men are second cousins, around forty, resembling each
other not very much, one taller and leaner, less rubicund
than the other, who has just returned from California.
--John Lukacs, [1]A Thread of Years

Rubicund from his cocktail, big, broad, lustrous with
power, he exuded what Walter Pater called the "charm of an
exquisite character, felt in some way to be inseparable
from his person."
--Edmund Morris, [2]Dutch: A Memoir of Ronald Reagan

Rubicund comes from Latin rubicundus, "red, ruddy," from
rubere, "to be red."

Synonyms: sanguine, roseate. [3]Find more at Thesaurus.com.

NxNE: Night 1

The first night of NxNE was a bit of a mixed bag. Started off at the Horseshoe with Tift Merritt, who seems to be generating her fair share of buzz. Unfortunately, I got there a little late and only caught her last 2 or 3 songs. But I generally liked what I heard. She's got a real purty voice, which purty much matches the rest of her. And she knew her way around that geetar, too. Played with a lot of vigour and confidence. It was just her and a guy who alternated between pedal steel and electric piano. Sounded really nice. The songs I heard showed a strong affinity with classic country songwriting, a la George and Tammy. The kind of chord changes you can only write if you've got a pain in your heart and tear in your eye. Will definitely have to check her out next time she comes to town. Yes, she "Merritts" further listening.

I skipped out on Martina Sorbara, and headed up to Rancho Relaxo to see "Swearing At Motorists". Aside from being a favourite and frequent past time of mine, they're also a band that I heard good things about from last year's fest. When I arrive at the door at the bottom of the stairs at Rancho, I show my delegate pass to the blue-shirted festival volunteer, and he says "uh-oh". I take that as a bad sign. He says "just a sec" and calls for someone else to come down, a senior door person, I suppose, to consult on the "uh-oh"-ness of the sitch. I can see at the top of the stairs inside the club that it looks pretty crowded. Blue shirt #2 says, 'okay. I'll take him around back' and leads me to the corner, up the side street, down the alley, and up the back fire escape that leads through the back door of the Rancho. As we're climbing the fire escape stairs, she asks me to try and stay near the back of the club, which is fine with me. And then she says "so, which band are you in?" I briefly consider making up a band name. The Horsefly Conspiracy. Brando's Bad Hair Day. Why Can't Jimmy Reed. The StareMasters. Beasts You Love... but I'm just too damned honest, and I say "oh, I'm not in a band. I'm with a magazine." You see, the pass says, under my name, "Canadian Musician". I think they were reading it as "hi, I'm a ..." instead of the more correct "Hi, I write for..." Anyway, it doesn't matter. They still let me in, as they should. I just feel less cool about it.

Swearing At Motorists are from Dayton, Ohio. They were okay, although I think I missed out on some of their energy because I stayed back by the bar. It was really packed up front. There are only two members in the band ñ guitar and drums ñ the drummer is also a member of Guided By Voices ñ but they sounded bigger ñ like guitar and drums and bass. The frontman had quite a flare for gab, and was busy between songs boosting other Ohio bands who were at the fest. Not a bad performance, although I found the singer was a tad self-consciously flamboyant. I should have moved up closer.

Next, I headed north, executing my end-the-night-on-Bloor-so-i-can-catch-the-subway-after-the-last-show-because-I-have-to-get-up-for-work-in-the-morning plan. I passed on the Black Rebel Motorcycle Club at Lee's and instead scooted a few blocks over to the Tranzac to see Kathryn Rose. Never been to the Tranzac before, probably because I never served our country in WWII. It looks like a Legion or some sort of community social club. I'm sure the walls have echoed with "Bingo!" more often than they've vibrated from real live rock music.

"Do you have Amsterdam Nut Brown?" I ask the bartender, having recently left my pilsner paramour Steam Whistle and returned to the robust arms of my darker, nuttier mistress.

"No, but we have (something mumbled), which is like that," he says through half-closed lids.

Okay, sounds fine. He slides me a light, amberish, tepid glass of disappointment.

Sigh.

I lean against the bar and crane my neck to see the 500-ft high stage. Actually it's probably more like 5-feet high, but it just seems so high off the floor, compared to most clubs. There's even a small 3-foot high patch of demi-stage in front in case the performers need to come down for thicker air, easier breathing. After a few of Kathyrn Rose's songs, I'm wishing she would come down a little closer to earth. Great voice, lots of presence, but she's a bit of a drama queen. Striking poses. Literally. Not completely unenjoyable, to be sure, has a certain power, but just wasn't doing it for me. I don't even recall if i stayed for the whole set. I don't think so.

I downed the dregs of my disappointment and set my hopes higher for the following night.

Coming up for air

Long time no blog. My last entry was 10 days ago. I blog your forgiveness.

But this feels like the first time since then that I've been able to come up for air. Spent today doing as little as possible. Listened to some Ron Sexsmith music ñ his first two Interscope albums, pure and uncomplicated ñ played a bit of guitar, napped. All necessary. Very necessary.

It was last Thursday that I started writing an article for Chart that was due the following Monday. Spent the whole of last weekend working on that, also while setting up and conducting interviews for my Showcase page for Canadian Musician, which I would need to have in ASAP after the Chart piece ñ aiming for Wednesday or Thursday. Which happened to coincide with the beginning of the NxNE festival. After many late nights and sleep-deprived days at work, I got the article done. (The amount of coffee I consumed during the previous week surely must have made some sort of impact on Colombia's GNP.) The Showcase page I finished early Thursday evening, adding a few final revisions and emailing it literally minutes before heading out the door to enjoy the first night of NxNE.

First stop: The Horseshoe... (to be continued)