Things will be quiet around here for a while. I'm moving this weekend. I have tomorrow and Friday off. Tomorrow will be the main packing day (though I've started some things already), Friday I'm renting a van, and I'll be moving some stuff on my ownósmall, one-person stuff. My new place isn't very far away from my present abode--probably a 5-10 minute drive--so I don't care if it takes several trips.
Then Saturday I'm renting a different van (they're in short supply this weekend), and with some help from friends and my brother, I'll move the heavier, two-person stuff: bed, couch, etc. Should go all right I think.
My high-speed will be down from Friday until probably sometime later next week. So talk amongst yerselves. I'll even give you a topic: The Holy Roman Empire was neither holy nor Roman. Discuss.
Next time you hear from me I'll be in my new digs! Woo!
And tonight, will I be packing and fretting and planning? HELL NO! I'm going to the Horseshoe to see Neko Case! Hee hee!
Wednesday, April 28, 2004
Monday, April 26, 2004
Word
Word of the Day for Monday April 26, 2004
lucubration \loo-kyoo-BRAY-shun; loo-kuh-\, noun:
1. The act of studying by candlelight; nocturnal study;
meditation.
2. That which is composed by night; that which is produced by
meditation in retirement; hence (loosely) any literary
composition.
A point of information for those with time on their hands:
if you were to read 135 books a day, every day, for a year,
you wouldn't finish all the books published annually in the
United States. Now add to this figure, which is upward of
50,000, the 100 or so literary magazines; the scholarly,
political and scientific journals (there are 142 devoted to
sociology alone), as well as the glossy magazines, of which
bigger and shinier versions are now spawning, and you'll
appreciate the amount of lucubration that finds its way
into print.
--Arthur Krystal, "On Writing: Let There Be Less," [1]New
York Times, March 26, 1989
One of his characters is given to lucubration. "Things die
on us," he reflects as he lies in bed, "we die on each
other, we die of ourselves."
--"Books of The Times," [2]New York Times, February 7, 1981
Naturally, these fictions ran the risk of tumbling down the
formalist hill and ending up at the bottom without readers
-- except the heroic students of Roland Barthes or Umberto
Eco, professors whose lucubrations were much more
interesting than the books about which they theorized.
--[3]Mario Vargas Llosa, "Thugs Who Know Their Greek,"
[4]New York Times, September 7, 1986
Lucubration comes from Latin lucubratus, past participle of
lucubrare, "to work by night, composed at night (as by
candlelight)," ultimately connected with lux, "light." Hence
it is related to lucent, "shining, bright," and lucid,
"clear." The verb form is lucubrate.
lucubration \loo-kyoo-BRAY-shun; loo-kuh-\, noun:
1. The act of studying by candlelight; nocturnal study;
meditation.
2. That which is composed by night; that which is produced by
meditation in retirement; hence (loosely) any literary
composition.
A point of information for those with time on their hands:
if you were to read 135 books a day, every day, for a year,
you wouldn't finish all the books published annually in the
United States. Now add to this figure, which is upward of
50,000, the 100 or so literary magazines; the scholarly,
political and scientific journals (there are 142 devoted to
sociology alone), as well as the glossy magazines, of which
bigger and shinier versions are now spawning, and you'll
appreciate the amount of lucubration that finds its way
into print.
--Arthur Krystal, "On Writing: Let There Be Less," [1]New
York Times, March 26, 1989
One of his characters is given to lucubration. "Things die
on us," he reflects as he lies in bed, "we die on each
other, we die of ourselves."
--"Books of The Times," [2]New York Times, February 7, 1981
Naturally, these fictions ran the risk of tumbling down the
formalist hill and ending up at the bottom without readers
-- except the heroic students of Roland Barthes or Umberto
Eco, professors whose lucubrations were much more
interesting than the books about which they theorized.
--[3]Mario Vargas Llosa, "Thugs Who Know Their Greek,"
[4]New York Times, September 7, 1986
Lucubration comes from Latin lucubratus, past participle of
lucubrare, "to work by night, composed at night (as by
candlelight)," ultimately connected with lux, "light." Hence
it is related to lucent, "shining, bright," and lucid,
"clear." The verb form is lucubrate.
Sunday, April 25, 2004
Glenn, Live It
Faithful readers may recall this blog entry from almost exactly two years ago, from when I saw Glenn Tilbrook play at the Horseshoe. It was a fantastic experience, especially with the "walkabout" we took outside.
Just in case you thought I shittiní ya, it seems the blessed event was actually captured on film.
The scene appears toward the end of this trailer for the upcoming Glenn movie. [large 5.4mb video file - those without highspeed proceed with caution...and patience]
Cool or what?
We got to the end of the block, just past the Bamboo and before the Black Swan, hung a left through a parking lot, where Tilbrook finished "Goodbye Girl" and started the Squeeze classic "Pulling Mussels From The Shell", to wild applause. We then turned west and the merry music mob started down the small one-way street that runs behind the Horsehoe ñ more like an alley, almost ñ Tilbrook still walking backwards as he sang and played... and we all sang along, our voices slapping off of the valley of apartment buildings and clubs ... "behind the chalet, my holiday's complete, and I feel like William Tell, Maid Marian on her tip-toed feet, pulling mussels from a shell..."
And that's when we notice the police car approaching from the opposite direction.
As it draws near, Tilbrook, still singing, approaches the driver's side window as the merry mob flows on either side of the car, like an amoeba around a foreign particle. The cop rolls down the window... and he's singing the song!! He knows the words! Tilbrook sits up on the hood of the cop car, leaning back to look at the cop while he sings, the cop turns on the flashing lights, and we all finish the song together, bathed in the red and blue, and the warm glow of that "this-is-just-too-cool-to-be-real" feeling. We all break into a huge cheer, thank the officer, and file back in through the rear entrance of the Horseshoe.
Just in case you thought I shittiní ya, it seems the blessed event was actually captured on film.
The scene appears toward the end of this trailer for the upcoming Glenn movie. [large 5.4mb video file - those without highspeed proceed with caution...and patience]
Cool or what?
Sunday, April 18, 2004
The Wild, The Innocent, And The Queen Street Shuffle
Seems I'm becoming something of a fixture on the stage at The Horseshoe. I think I may have to ask for my own dressing room and parking space.
I kid, of course. But this past Thursday night, I played the Horseshoe again; the second time in less than a month. My friend Boag (who faithful readers will remember from the St. Paddy's Day Massacre (In Three-part Harmony) blog entry, had organized a Bruce Springsteen tribute night at The 'Shoe and asked me and our campadre Tim to once again back him up on guitar. Proceeds were to benefit a Parkdale outreach centre, St. Francis Table. So we practiced two songs: ìThe Feverî and ìRed Headed Womanî. I played lead guitar. Tim played acoustic rhythm.
It was billed as "The Wild, the Innocent, and the Queen Street Shuffle", and it turned out to be a very good night. As always, there were a few last-minute snafus or near-snafus. Just as I was leaving work, I got an email from Boag saying he'd decided that he'd start the show himself, and did I know any of these songs well enough to back him up: "Born To Run", "Backstreets", "Racing In The Streets", "Growin' Up", and one other I can't recall. I figured the only one I could do adequately on short notice was "Growin' Up", so when I got home, I ran through it a bit on my acoustic, and figured it out.
When I got to the 'Shoe, I met up with Boag, and we went across the street to Steve's Music to rent the drum kit, guitar amp and other accoutrements for the stage. (Later on, it was discovered that the drum kit was missing a hi-hat stand, resulting in a mad pre-show scramble by Jay Clark Reid of Jay Clark & The Jones, who heroically raced in their van out to Parkdale to get a replacement.) Had a bit of a problem finding a cab so we could transport the gear, but after two bailed on us, we found one guy that begrudgingly ferried us and the gear around the corner. Back at the 'Shoe, we huddled with Tim and ran through our two songs just to refresh our memories and do a little last-minute fine-tuning. I ran through "Growin' Up" with Boag, and it seemed to be all right. Then it was just a matter of waiting for show time.
I was definitely harbouring a few butterflies in my stomach, but I wasn't quite as nervous as I was before the St. Patrick's Day show, mostly because I felt I knew these songs better, thanks to the rehearsal we'd had the previous Sunday. (By the way, ìThe Feverî is a tricky little song, if you've ever tried to learn it. Not that the chords are difficult, but the way Bruce does it, there are sections that seem to straddle a line between a verse and a bridge, and sections that share the same lyrics as the first verse, but aren't structurally the same as the verse, just slightly different. Sneaky.)
When 10pm rolled around, Boag took to the stage and said a few words about St. Francis Table and ran through the line-up for the evening. Then I joined him and strapped on Tim's acoustic for "Growin' Up". I eschewed the picking pattern that Bruce does, and some of the finer points of his guitar playing on the song, in favour of a simpler approach that relied more on vigorous, rhythmic strumming. Keep it simple. It seemed to go pretty well. Good song to start the night with. And it was good for me to get up there early and get my feet wet, so to speak. Let loose some of those butterflies. For the next hour or so I just sat back and enjoyed the show. And it was a very good show, with all-round enjoyable performances; some absolutely stellar.
Dan Kershaw - I Wish I†Were Blind, Bobby Jean
(Our friend) Heather Morgan & The Company Of Men - Dancing In The Dark
Michelle Rumball - Across The Border
John Borra & Colleen Hodgson - 10th Ave Freezout,†Because The Night, Dead Man Walking (Colleen vocals)
Tim Armour - Nebraska
Cindy Archer & Co. - Dry Lightning
Pete Elkas and band - Darkness On The Edge Of Town, Streets Of Fire/Hungry Heart
Paul Emery & The Dickens - Prove It All Night
Jonah Ward & Tina Martinez - State Trooper
Not to mention the one and only Ron Sexsmith, who graced us with three or four songs, including "I Wanna Marry You" and "Factory".
As for our time on stage--under the name Boag And His Band And Street Choir--it went really well, helped in no small part by Don Kerr sitting in with us on drums, and Kenny Yoshioka ("The Japanese Torpedo") from Jay Clark & The Jones joining in on harmonica. It was very cool to play with Don, as I'd admired his playing for quite some time, with Ron Sexsmith and with The Rheostatics. Boag really let go on "The Fever", throwing himself into it, body and soul, and everyone seemed to be diggin' it, so he came over to me during my solo and yelled to stretch it out longer and keep it going. Felt pretty good. And "Red Headed Woman" went pretty well too. We had rehearsed it as sort of a rockabilly version, using Elvis' "That's Alright Mama" as a template, which is not that far removed from Bruce's solo acoustic version (it appears on the MTV XXPlugged album). But with the drums and harp and the energy on the stage, it seemed to emerge more like something from Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited (think Tombstone Blues). Perhaps not surprising since I had envisioned my role as more of a Mike Bloomfield/Robbie Robertson part. I'm afraid the fancy James Burton stuff just ain't my forte. I didn't seem to be hitting the notes as solidly as I wanted to during my solos, but people told me afterwards that it sounded all right. I guess there's something to be said for the transfer of energy over the accuracy of picking.
So it was a very satisfying night. And we raised about $300 for St. Francis Table.
Here's a pic from my friend Larry's photo-phone. Poor quality, I'm afraid.
L-R: Boag, a barely visible Don Kerr, unknown mic stand,
me, torso and legs of the Japanese Torpedo
I don't think I'm close to ditching the writing gig for a life making music, as much as that would be sweet as honey, but it's sure good to get out and play. Scary and nerve-wracking, but the more I do it, the more comfortable it gets. Nice when it goes well and you get some positive feedback, too. And, again, to play the Horseshoe is a thrill. I suppose I was standing in the same spot on stage where Keith Richards would have stood. Maybe I absorbed some residual energy?
And it may not be the last time, as there's talk of maybe starting a series to benefit St. Francis Table. Next up: A tribute to The Band.
Count me in!
I kid, of course. But this past Thursday night, I played the Horseshoe again; the second time in less than a month. My friend Boag (who faithful readers will remember from the St. Paddy's Day Massacre (In Three-part Harmony) blog entry, had organized a Bruce Springsteen tribute night at The 'Shoe and asked me and our campadre Tim to once again back him up on guitar. Proceeds were to benefit a Parkdale outreach centre, St. Francis Table. So we practiced two songs: ìThe Feverî and ìRed Headed Womanî. I played lead guitar. Tim played acoustic rhythm.
It was billed as "The Wild, the Innocent, and the Queen Street Shuffle", and it turned out to be a very good night. As always, there were a few last-minute snafus or near-snafus. Just as I was leaving work, I got an email from Boag saying he'd decided that he'd start the show himself, and did I know any of these songs well enough to back him up: "Born To Run", "Backstreets", "Racing In The Streets", "Growin' Up", and one other I can't recall. I figured the only one I could do adequately on short notice was "Growin' Up", so when I got home, I ran through it a bit on my acoustic, and figured it out.
When I got to the 'Shoe, I met up with Boag, and we went across the street to Steve's Music to rent the drum kit, guitar amp and other accoutrements for the stage. (Later on, it was discovered that the drum kit was missing a hi-hat stand, resulting in a mad pre-show scramble by Jay Clark Reid of Jay Clark & The Jones, who heroically raced in their van out to Parkdale to get a replacement.) Had a bit of a problem finding a cab so we could transport the gear, but after two bailed on us, we found one guy that begrudgingly ferried us and the gear around the corner. Back at the 'Shoe, we huddled with Tim and ran through our two songs just to refresh our memories and do a little last-minute fine-tuning. I ran through "Growin' Up" with Boag, and it seemed to be all right. Then it was just a matter of waiting for show time.
I was definitely harbouring a few butterflies in my stomach, but I wasn't quite as nervous as I was before the St. Patrick's Day show, mostly because I felt I knew these songs better, thanks to the rehearsal we'd had the previous Sunday. (By the way, ìThe Feverî is a tricky little song, if you've ever tried to learn it. Not that the chords are difficult, but the way Bruce does it, there are sections that seem to straddle a line between a verse and a bridge, and sections that share the same lyrics as the first verse, but aren't structurally the same as the verse, just slightly different. Sneaky.)
When 10pm rolled around, Boag took to the stage and said a few words about St. Francis Table and ran through the line-up for the evening. Then I joined him and strapped on Tim's acoustic for "Growin' Up". I eschewed the picking pattern that Bruce does, and some of the finer points of his guitar playing on the song, in favour of a simpler approach that relied more on vigorous, rhythmic strumming. Keep it simple. It seemed to go pretty well. Good song to start the night with. And it was good for me to get up there early and get my feet wet, so to speak. Let loose some of those butterflies. For the next hour or so I just sat back and enjoyed the show. And it was a very good show, with all-round enjoyable performances; some absolutely stellar.
Dan Kershaw - I Wish I†Were Blind, Bobby Jean
(Our friend) Heather Morgan & The Company Of Men - Dancing In The Dark
Michelle Rumball - Across The Border
John Borra & Colleen Hodgson - 10th Ave Freezout,†Because The Night, Dead Man Walking (Colleen vocals)
Tim Armour - Nebraska
Cindy Archer & Co. - Dry Lightning
Pete Elkas and band - Darkness On The Edge Of Town, Streets Of Fire/Hungry Heart
Paul Emery & The Dickens - Prove It All Night
Jonah Ward & Tina Martinez - State Trooper
Not to mention the one and only Ron Sexsmith, who graced us with three or four songs, including "I Wanna Marry You" and "Factory".
As for our time on stage--under the name Boag And His Band And Street Choir--it went really well, helped in no small part by Don Kerr sitting in with us on drums, and Kenny Yoshioka ("The Japanese Torpedo") from Jay Clark & The Jones joining in on harmonica. It was very cool to play with Don, as I'd admired his playing for quite some time, with Ron Sexsmith and with The Rheostatics. Boag really let go on "The Fever", throwing himself into it, body and soul, and everyone seemed to be diggin' it, so he came over to me during my solo and yelled to stretch it out longer and keep it going. Felt pretty good. And "Red Headed Woman" went pretty well too. We had rehearsed it as sort of a rockabilly version, using Elvis' "That's Alright Mama" as a template, which is not that far removed from Bruce's solo acoustic version (it appears on the MTV XXPlugged album). But with the drums and harp and the energy on the stage, it seemed to emerge more like something from Dylan's Highway 61 Revisited (think Tombstone Blues). Perhaps not surprising since I had envisioned my role as more of a Mike Bloomfield/Robbie Robertson part. I'm afraid the fancy James Burton stuff just ain't my forte. I didn't seem to be hitting the notes as solidly as I wanted to during my solos, but people told me afterwards that it sounded all right. I guess there's something to be said for the transfer of energy over the accuracy of picking.
So it was a very satisfying night. And we raised about $300 for St. Francis Table.
Here's a pic from my friend Larry's photo-phone. Poor quality, I'm afraid.
me, torso and legs of the Japanese Torpedo
I don't think I'm close to ditching the writing gig for a life making music, as much as that would be sweet as honey, but it's sure good to get out and play. Scary and nerve-wracking, but the more I do it, the more comfortable it gets. Nice when it goes well and you get some positive feedback, too. And, again, to play the Horseshoe is a thrill. I suppose I was standing in the same spot on stage where Keith Richards would have stood. Maybe I absorbed some residual energy?
And it may not be the last time, as there's talk of maybe starting a series to benefit St. Francis Table. Next up: A tribute to The Band.
Count me in!
Thursday, April 08, 2004
Case Of Redemption
The most bothersome thing about the Phoney Neighbour Scammer wasn't so much the money, as it was the disappointment. Disappointment in me, that I could have made such an error in judgement, that my instincts had served me so poorly. And a general disappointment that my faith in human goodness was left bruised and battered.
I don't mean to overstate it. I'm sure if I had spent time in Rwanda 10 years ago, I'd be talking about a whole other level of faith in human goodness being destroyed. But still, I felt disappointed that I had decided to put my trust in this person, and I got burned.
But as much as that kind of let down is a fact of life, and a constant that runs through the human experience, we have to remember that redemption is always just around the corner. Or in this case, waiting to meet me at the corner.
It was a dark and rainy night... Well, it was!... Okay, okay. Last Saturday night, I ventured out into the steady rain to go see Neko Case and The Sadies at Lee's Palace. We were having quite a good little downpour, and I was waiting at the corner for the bus, umbrella sheltering me from the rain. Car pulls up and the driver, a 30-ish guy of vaguely Middle Eastern appearance, motions me over. I thought maybe he was looking for directions. Then I see him toss a pizza warming bag into the back seat. He leans over, opens the passenger door and asks me if I would like a ride to the subway station. I say sure, and hop in. Turns out he's a delivery driver for Pizza Hut, just on his way home, and he thought he'd give me a lift and save me from standing in the rain for maybe 10-15 minutes waiting for the bus.
What a nice guy! So he dropped me off a the Pape subway station, and I thanked him very much.
The karmic wheel must have been turning in my favour that night, because when I got to Lee's Palace, hoping that maybe there might be some tickets at the door for Neko's sold-out show, alas, the doorman said there was none...at the moment. I asked him what he meant, and he said, "Well, sometimes if you stand right over there and wait, somebody might come by with an extra ticket they're looking to sell." No sooner had the words left his mouth than the guy standing behind me, who had overheard our exchange, says he has an extra ticket he's looking to sell. Tickets were $18.50. I gave him $20 and I was in!
It was a fantastic show! They were recording both that night's show and Sunday night's show for a future live album. Video cameras were there too, for a future DVD I assume. The opening act was Jim And Jennie And The Pinetops, and they were very good bluegrassers, joined by Carolyn Mark for an opening set.
But Neko just blew the place away. She started with "Favorite" from the Canadian Amp EP. Oh man, there's a part in that song where the band falls away, and she sings "But I know that I-hiiiiiiiiy'm your favorite/And I say amen". On that "I-hiiiiiiiiiy'm" part, she just sang that so perfectly. 24 Karat twang. The whole show was marvelous. There were moments that were simply spellbinding. Even when they re-did several songs after the main set, the magic was still there.
She did mostly new songs that they were recording specifically for the live album. Kind of like Neko's Time Fades Away.
The Sadies were her backup band, along with John Rauhouse on steel guitar. Carolyn Mark and Kelly Hogan were her backup singers, both dressed in green blazers which they probably found in some menswear store's bargain bin.
But does Neko have the most wonderful voice in the world? I think maybe she does.
And they're doing it again tomorrow night and Saturday at the infamous after-hours bar The Matador. Should be a good 'n' wild one. Then she's back on the 28th at the Horseshoe. Woo!! April is Neko Month here in Toronto!
I don't mean to overstate it. I'm sure if I had spent time in Rwanda 10 years ago, I'd be talking about a whole other level of faith in human goodness being destroyed. But still, I felt disappointed that I had decided to put my trust in this person, and I got burned.
But as much as that kind of let down is a fact of life, and a constant that runs through the human experience, we have to remember that redemption is always just around the corner. Or in this case, waiting to meet me at the corner.
It was a dark and rainy night... Well, it was!... Okay, okay. Last Saturday night, I ventured out into the steady rain to go see Neko Case and The Sadies at Lee's Palace. We were having quite a good little downpour, and I was waiting at the corner for the bus, umbrella sheltering me from the rain. Car pulls up and the driver, a 30-ish guy of vaguely Middle Eastern appearance, motions me over. I thought maybe he was looking for directions. Then I see him toss a pizza warming bag into the back seat. He leans over, opens the passenger door and asks me if I would like a ride to the subway station. I say sure, and hop in. Turns out he's a delivery driver for Pizza Hut, just on his way home, and he thought he'd give me a lift and save me from standing in the rain for maybe 10-15 minutes waiting for the bus.
What a nice guy! So he dropped me off a the Pape subway station, and I thanked him very much.
The karmic wheel must have been turning in my favour that night, because when I got to Lee's Palace, hoping that maybe there might be some tickets at the door for Neko's sold-out show, alas, the doorman said there was none...at the moment. I asked him what he meant, and he said, "Well, sometimes if you stand right over there and wait, somebody might come by with an extra ticket they're looking to sell." No sooner had the words left his mouth than the guy standing behind me, who had overheard our exchange, says he has an extra ticket he's looking to sell. Tickets were $18.50. I gave him $20 and I was in!
It was a fantastic show! They were recording both that night's show and Sunday night's show for a future live album. Video cameras were there too, for a future DVD I assume. The opening act was Jim And Jennie And The Pinetops, and they were very good bluegrassers, joined by Carolyn Mark for an opening set.
But Neko just blew the place away. She started with "Favorite" from the Canadian Amp EP. Oh man, there's a part in that song where the band falls away, and she sings "But I know that I-hiiiiiiiiy'm your favorite/And I say amen". On that "I-hiiiiiiiiiy'm" part, she just sang that so perfectly. 24 Karat twang. The whole show was marvelous. There were moments that were simply spellbinding. Even when they re-did several songs after the main set, the magic was still there.
She did mostly new songs that they were recording specifically for the live album. Kind of like Neko's Time Fades Away.
The Sadies were her backup band, along with John Rauhouse on steel guitar. Carolyn Mark and Kelly Hogan were her backup singers, both dressed in green blazers which they probably found in some menswear store's bargain bin.
But does Neko have the most wonderful voice in the world? I think maybe she does.
And they're doing it again tomorrow night and Saturday at the infamous after-hours bar The Matador. Should be a good 'n' wild one. Then she's back on the 28th at the Horseshoe. Woo!! April is Neko Month here in Toronto!
Sunday, April 04, 2004
Pontificating
Today's headline:
Pope tells flock not to worship materialism
"The Pope, who appeared in good spirits and spoke in a relatively strong voice, directed his homily to young Christians, saying "Certainly the message that the Cross communicates isn't easy to understand in our era, in which material well-being and convenience are proposed and sought after as priority values."
He then retired behind the gold-lined doors of the Vatican where he had a nap on a Louis XIV divan underneath a priceless da Vinci painting.
Pope tells flock not to worship materialism
"The Pope, who appeared in good spirits and spoke in a relatively strong voice, directed his homily to young Christians, saying "Certainly the message that the Cross communicates isn't easy to understand in our era, in which material well-being and convenience are proposed and sought after as priority values."
He then retired behind the gold-lined doors of the Vatican where he had a nap on a Louis XIV divan underneath a priceless da Vinci painting.
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