... COWbells that is!
Y'know, as I think of it, I may have posted that link once before. But no matter. You can never have too much cowbell!
"I got a fever, and the only prescription is more cowbell!"
Monday, August 30, 2004
Saturday, August 28, 2004
How Sweet It Was
There are some things you just can't pass up. For years I'd been telling myself that I have to go see Emmylou Harris play live. Is there a more immediately identifiable voice in the world? Well, maybe a few, but none as beautiful or as awe-inspiring. And I've also been dying to see Gillian Welch since I first started listening to her records a few years ago. I was bummed that the Bluesfest got canceled this summer, because for me, she was the primary attraction. So when I saw tickets were going on sale for the Sweet Harmony Traveling Revue, with both Emmylou and Gillian, I wasn't about to miss it. Musical manna from heaven.
I took Thursday and Friday off, rounded up my friends Heather and Greg, who were also jazzed about the show, and went down to my old stomping grounds, Detroit/Windsor, to catch the tour stop at the Meadowbrook music festival. We stayed at my friend Janet's place in Windsor, and she also came to the show.
The show was everything I had hoped it would be and more. Meadowbrook is an outdoor amphitheatre on the grounds of Oakland University in Rochester, MI, about 45 minutes on the other side of Detroit. As a venue, it's smaller and cozier than most outdoor sheds. It has kind of a folky vibe to it. We had seats under the canopy, so we were okay in case it rained, but that was not going to be a concern. It was a beautifully warm night, just perfect for this kind of concert.
Tickets said the show was at 7:30, so we figured we'd be okay getting there sometime between then and 8:00. We arrived at about 7:50, and Emmylou was already onstage! As we walked from the parking field to our seats we could hear her singing "To Know Him Is To Love Him", with at least one other female voice, which was probably Patty Griffin, although it's possible Gillian was in there as well (The sound was a bit muffled at that distance and over the lip of a hill). I heard her say something like "How are you Detroit?", so I assumed this must have been her first song of the evening, second at best.
I stopped just long enough to visit the mensroom and to pick up a $7 jug of beer (that's about $12 CDN - you can almost buy a 12-pack for that!) As I got to the seats, Emmylou was just finishing the marvelous Daniel Lanois song "Blackhawk". What a thrill to hear that voice live in front of me for the first time! She encapsulates everything that's right about beautiful singing: strength, nuance, delicacy, emotion, reserve, poise, abandon, tradition, individuality... Just so beautiful.
I may be forgetting a few songs from her mini-set, but I know she also did "Orphan Girl", joined by Miss Gillian of course, and I'm pretty sure she also did "My Antonia". And there's another thrill: seeing Emmylou and Gillian Welch singing together. Man, how do you top that?
I was soon to find out.
But that was the template for the Revue. Each of the main artists would do a mini-set, often joined by the others in various configurations. It was very fluid.
I'm not sure of the exact order of things, but I think Buddy Miller's set followed Emmylou's. I don't know his stuff very well, but I was quite impressed with his voice. Very distinctive. The highlight of his set came when he was joined by Gillian and David Rawlings for a few numbers, with Rawlings on electric guitar and Gillian on bass!. They were rocking out and having a good ol' time! Great stuff.
It's almost pointless to talk about highlights, there were so many wonderful moments. At some point the stage lights came down, while Emmylou, Gillian and Patty Griffin gathered around one mic under a lone, overhead spotlight to sing the a cappella gem from the "O Brother" soundtrack, "Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby". Absolutely spellbinding.
Patty Griffin's mini-set was next, I think. I've only heard a few of her songs, and only recently. She possesses a marvelous voice. For me, the highlight of her set was her haunting, solo rendition of Springsteen's "Stolen Car" and her closing number, "Mary", which she wrote for her grandmother. For this one, Emmylou and Gillian stood unassumingly on either side and a few feet back of Patty, like any old back-up singers. Their three voices closed out the song, lifting up the grandmother's name -- homage, veneration, benediction.
Gillian Welch's and David Rawlings' set was simply amazing. They started with "I Wanna Play That Rock And Roll", then into "Elvis Presley Blues". We were remarking afterwards how well their voices blend together. There were times when I thought Rawlings' mic may have been off, but when I listened closer, there he was, just blending in as if there were one voice. Gillian broke out the banjo for a few songs, and I think they did "I Had A Real Good Mother", "No One Knows My Name" and "One Little Song", although I may be imagining one of these, possibly heard it in the car on the way over to the show. They also did another song that I didn't recognize; maybe a song from Soul Journey that I'm not so familiar with.
Another thing I had been looking forward to was bearing witness to David Rawlings' guitar playing. This man is an amazing guitarist. There's something about his playing, as if he's almost colouring outside the lines, but not quite. Sort of like what Marc Ribot is to avant pop/jazz, David Rawlings is to roots moderne. He's not in charge of his playing; he just lets it come through and follows where it leads him. It plays him. The last song of their set was "Revelator", and it was just incredible. I think I have bruises on my chin from where my jaw hit the floor during some of his solos.
I think they closed out the main set with an ensemble rendition of "I'll Fly Away". For the first encore, again with the whole ensemble, David Rawlings strapped on a 12-string Rickenbacker, and following a plea from Emmylou that everyone get registered to vote, they launched into a note-perfect intro to the Byrds' version of "Turn Turn Turn". That was followed by what was probably the best rendition of "The Weight" that I had ever heard in person.
They left the stage to another standing ovation (there had been several throughout the evening). I noticed the guitar tech removing one of Emmylou's guitars, and replacing it with her big jumbo Gibson acoustic, so I knew there would be another encore. And something about the way he placed that guitar on its stand at the front of the stage facing Emmylou's mic stand made me think...Gram Parsons. There was just something reverential and near-iconic about the way the roadie placed that guitar on the stage.
They came back out, and Emmylou mentioned that even though it had been such a fun and wonderful experience traveling and playing with these other artists, and how grateful she was to them for doing it, none of it would have been possible for her if it hadn't been for Gram Parsons. Then they closed the book on the evening with Parsons' prayer "In My Hour Of Darkness".
An incredible evening of beautiful music.
I took Thursday and Friday off, rounded up my friends Heather and Greg, who were also jazzed about the show, and went down to my old stomping grounds, Detroit/Windsor, to catch the tour stop at the Meadowbrook music festival. We stayed at my friend Janet's place in Windsor, and she also came to the show.
The show was everything I had hoped it would be and more. Meadowbrook is an outdoor amphitheatre on the grounds of Oakland University in Rochester, MI, about 45 minutes on the other side of Detroit. As a venue, it's smaller and cozier than most outdoor sheds. It has kind of a folky vibe to it. We had seats under the canopy, so we were okay in case it rained, but that was not going to be a concern. It was a beautifully warm night, just perfect for this kind of concert.
Tickets said the show was at 7:30, so we figured we'd be okay getting there sometime between then and 8:00. We arrived at about 7:50, and Emmylou was already onstage! As we walked from the parking field to our seats we could hear her singing "To Know Him Is To Love Him", with at least one other female voice, which was probably Patty Griffin, although it's possible Gillian was in there as well (The sound was a bit muffled at that distance and over the lip of a hill). I heard her say something like "How are you Detroit?", so I assumed this must have been her first song of the evening, second at best.
I stopped just long enough to visit the mensroom and to pick up a $7 jug of beer (that's about $12 CDN - you can almost buy a 12-pack for that!) As I got to the seats, Emmylou was just finishing the marvelous Daniel Lanois song "Blackhawk". What a thrill to hear that voice live in front of me for the first time! She encapsulates everything that's right about beautiful singing: strength, nuance, delicacy, emotion, reserve, poise, abandon, tradition, individuality... Just so beautiful.
I may be forgetting a few songs from her mini-set, but I know she also did "Orphan Girl", joined by Miss Gillian of course, and I'm pretty sure she also did "My Antonia". And there's another thrill: seeing Emmylou and Gillian Welch singing together. Man, how do you top that?
I was soon to find out.
But that was the template for the Revue. Each of the main artists would do a mini-set, often joined by the others in various configurations. It was very fluid.
I'm not sure of the exact order of things, but I think Buddy Miller's set followed Emmylou's. I don't know his stuff very well, but I was quite impressed with his voice. Very distinctive. The highlight of his set came when he was joined by Gillian and David Rawlings for a few numbers, with Rawlings on electric guitar and Gillian on bass!. They were rocking out and having a good ol' time! Great stuff.
It's almost pointless to talk about highlights, there were so many wonderful moments. At some point the stage lights came down, while Emmylou, Gillian and Patty Griffin gathered around one mic under a lone, overhead spotlight to sing the a cappella gem from the "O Brother" soundtrack, "Didn't Leave Nobody But The Baby". Absolutely spellbinding.
Patty Griffin's mini-set was next, I think. I've only heard a few of her songs, and only recently. She possesses a marvelous voice. For me, the highlight of her set was her haunting, solo rendition of Springsteen's "Stolen Car" and her closing number, "Mary", which she wrote for her grandmother. For this one, Emmylou and Gillian stood unassumingly on either side and a few feet back of Patty, like any old back-up singers. Their three voices closed out the song, lifting up the grandmother's name -- homage, veneration, benediction.
Gillian Welch's and David Rawlings' set was simply amazing. They started with "I Wanna Play That Rock And Roll", then into "Elvis Presley Blues". We were remarking afterwards how well their voices blend together. There were times when I thought Rawlings' mic may have been off, but when I listened closer, there he was, just blending in as if there were one voice. Gillian broke out the banjo for a few songs, and I think they did "I Had A Real Good Mother", "No One Knows My Name" and "One Little Song", although I may be imagining one of these, possibly heard it in the car on the way over to the show. They also did another song that I didn't recognize; maybe a song from Soul Journey that I'm not so familiar with.
Another thing I had been looking forward to was bearing witness to David Rawlings' guitar playing. This man is an amazing guitarist. There's something about his playing, as if he's almost colouring outside the lines, but not quite. Sort of like what Marc Ribot is to avant pop/jazz, David Rawlings is to roots moderne. He's not in charge of his playing; he just lets it come through and follows where it leads him. It plays him. The last song of their set was "Revelator", and it was just incredible. I think I have bruises on my chin from where my jaw hit the floor during some of his solos.
I think they closed out the main set with an ensemble rendition of "I'll Fly Away". For the first encore, again with the whole ensemble, David Rawlings strapped on a 12-string Rickenbacker, and following a plea from Emmylou that everyone get registered to vote, they launched into a note-perfect intro to the Byrds' version of "Turn Turn Turn". That was followed by what was probably the best rendition of "The Weight" that I had ever heard in person.
They left the stage to another standing ovation (there had been several throughout the evening). I noticed the guitar tech removing one of Emmylou's guitars, and replacing it with her big jumbo Gibson acoustic, so I knew there would be another encore. And something about the way he placed that guitar on its stand at the front of the stage facing Emmylou's mic stand made me think...Gram Parsons. There was just something reverential and near-iconic about the way the roadie placed that guitar on the stage.
They came back out, and Emmylou mentioned that even though it had been such a fun and wonderful experience traveling and playing with these other artists, and how grateful she was to them for doing it, none of it would have been possible for her if it hadn't been for Gram Parsons. Then they closed the book on the evening with Parsons' prayer "In My Hour Of Darkness".
An incredible evening of beautiful music.
Sunday, August 22, 2004
Can-do, Can-did, Got The T-Shirt
I'm kinda tardy with this post... again, my deepest apologies.
Two weekends ago I attended the big Sloan/Sam Roberts co-headlining festival over on the Toronto Islands. It was an all-Canadian bill that also included Broken Social Scene, The Constantines, Buck 65, The Stills, Pilate and Death From Above. By all accounts it was a huge success, notable because this summer saw the cancelation of at least two other festivals: Lollapalooza and The Toronto Blues Festival.
I think Eye magazine hit the nail on the head with this story about the festival.
It was a great day. Started out kind of overcast, but as the day went on it cleared up and warmed up. Olympic Island is a very cool place for a show like that. Lots of green space, trees, places to wander off and escape the crowd if you want to, and a great view of the downtown skyline.
Crowd behaviour at these things is always fascinating. Observing real, live flesh-and-blood interaction between masses of people and pop music and pop culture--at the moment of spontaneous(?) consumption--is rife with all kinds of interesting paradoxes and revelations. For instance, there was the moment in Sam Roberts' set when he was performing "Brother Down", and the crowd picks up the refrain (with a little urging from Sam). People have their arms raised, fists in the air, voices jubilently belting it out...
"I think my life is passing me by"
um, yee haw.
And then of course there's Sam's other big sing-along moment in "The Canadian Dream"--part manifesto, part spelling bee...
"S-O-C-I-A,
L-I-S-M is here to stay!"
Gee, suddenly we're standing in the middle of thousands of real live socialists! Who knew? Up to that point they had appeared to be a bunch of students and young urban and suburban 20- and 30-somethings. And me not even partaking in the jubilent celebration of my fellow travellers, even though I was wearing my DJ Guevara t-shirt! (Note the Mao vinyl!)
...speaking of which...
When I was at the concert, I went to get a beer and as I was coming back from the serving area, this guy runs up to me and stops me, saying that his friend is doing a project on Che Guevara, and would I mind if he took a picture of my shirt for the project. I said, sure. So I go over and meet the guy, and he explains that he's a professor at Ryerson University, and his project (which sounded like part research project, part art project) involves investigating uses of Che images; talking to kids--university students, mostly--about why they're wearing the Che t-shirt, what it means to them, etc. A lot of these kids, of course, don't even know much about Che Guevara, other than that it's a cool image, I would guess on a par to them with Jim Morrison, John Lennon or Kurt Cobain. A cool icon. Projection of some kind of fuzzy rebelliousness.
So I was certainly willing to let him take a few snaps of me and my shirt, especially since mine represents a different...spin, shall we say...on the appropriation of the image. He asked me where I had found the t-shirt, and I told him that I had bought it in a little boardwalk store near Cavendish, P.E.I. when I was home visiting a few summers ago. The guy who initially approached me then says that he's from the East Coast, too. Antigonish, N.S. Says he wouldn't have guessed I was an Islander because he didn't hear an accent in my voice. I explain that we moved to the Moncton, N.B. area when I was 13, and I probably lost some of it as a result, plus living in Ontario for the past 14 years likely took care of the rest. He says, "No kidding! I lived in the Moncton area, too. Riverview." I say, "That's where I lived. Went to Riverview High. Class of '81". He says, "I was Class of '83!".
I say, "What's your name"?
"Patrick Decoste."
"Pat Decoste! I know you! ... I think... do I?"
Turns out it was his brother Mark who I knew from high school. He and his then-girlfriend-then-wife-then-ex-wife Sue Ellen (long story) were in several classes with me. And my friend Dan had dated their sister for a short time. But Pat and I had a few common friends, and we spent a few minutes working out the connections.
Too funny.
Che Guevara. Uniting people around the world.
Two weekends ago I attended the big Sloan/Sam Roberts co-headlining festival over on the Toronto Islands. It was an all-Canadian bill that also included Broken Social Scene, The Constantines, Buck 65, The Stills, Pilate and Death From Above. By all accounts it was a huge success, notable because this summer saw the cancelation of at least two other festivals: Lollapalooza and The Toronto Blues Festival.
I think Eye magazine hit the nail on the head with this story about the festival.
It was a great day. Started out kind of overcast, but as the day went on it cleared up and warmed up. Olympic Island is a very cool place for a show like that. Lots of green space, trees, places to wander off and escape the crowd if you want to, and a great view of the downtown skyline.
Crowd behaviour at these things is always fascinating. Observing real, live flesh-and-blood interaction between masses of people and pop music and pop culture--at the moment of spontaneous(?) consumption--is rife with all kinds of interesting paradoxes and revelations. For instance, there was the moment in Sam Roberts' set when he was performing "Brother Down", and the crowd picks up the refrain (with a little urging from Sam). People have their arms raised, fists in the air, voices jubilently belting it out...
"I think my life is passing me by"
um, yee haw.
And then of course there's Sam's other big sing-along moment in "The Canadian Dream"--part manifesto, part spelling bee...
"S-O-C-I-A,
L-I-S-M is here to stay!"
Gee, suddenly we're standing in the middle of thousands of real live socialists! Who knew? Up to that point they had appeared to be a bunch of students and young urban and suburban 20- and 30-somethings. And me not even partaking in the jubilent celebration of my fellow travellers, even though I was wearing my DJ Guevara t-shirt! (Note the Mao vinyl!)
...speaking of which...
When I was at the concert, I went to get a beer and as I was coming back from the serving area, this guy runs up to me and stops me, saying that his friend is doing a project on Che Guevara, and would I mind if he took a picture of my shirt for the project. I said, sure. So I go over and meet the guy, and he explains that he's a professor at Ryerson University, and his project (which sounded like part research project, part art project) involves investigating uses of Che images; talking to kids--university students, mostly--about why they're wearing the Che t-shirt, what it means to them, etc. A lot of these kids, of course, don't even know much about Che Guevara, other than that it's a cool image, I would guess on a par to them with Jim Morrison, John Lennon or Kurt Cobain. A cool icon. Projection of some kind of fuzzy rebelliousness.
So I was certainly willing to let him take a few snaps of me and my shirt, especially since mine represents a different...spin, shall we say...on the appropriation of the image. He asked me where I had found the t-shirt, and I told him that I had bought it in a little boardwalk store near Cavendish, P.E.I. when I was home visiting a few summers ago. The guy who initially approached me then says that he's from the East Coast, too. Antigonish, N.S. Says he wouldn't have guessed I was an Islander because he didn't hear an accent in my voice. I explain that we moved to the Moncton, N.B. area when I was 13, and I probably lost some of it as a result, plus living in Ontario for the past 14 years likely took care of the rest. He says, "No kidding! I lived in the Moncton area, too. Riverview." I say, "That's where I lived. Went to Riverview High. Class of '81". He says, "I was Class of '83!".
I say, "What's your name"?
"Patrick Decoste."
"Pat Decoste! I know you! ... I think... do I?"
Turns out it was his brother Mark who I knew from high school. He and his then-girlfriend-then-wife-then-ex-wife Sue Ellen (long story) were in several classes with me. And my friend Dan had dated their sister for a short time. But Pat and I had a few common friends, and we spent a few minutes working out the connections.
Too funny.
Che Guevara. Uniting people around the world.
Sunday, August 15, 2004
Sunday Papers
For your reading pleasure: My article on Emm Gryner from two years ago.
I didn't realize it was available online until a few days ago when I came across it on her website. Enjoy!
I didn't realize it was available online until a few days ago when I came across it on her website. Enjoy!
Saturday, August 14, 2004
Serenstrippity
Sometimes the right piece of furniture just falls into your lap...so to speak.
Somehow I doubt this coffee table has seen much coffee. More like a tea table...as in T(ea) & A!
Somehow I doubt this coffee table has seen much coffee. More like a tea table...as in T(ea) & A!
Friday, August 13, 2004
Fables Of The Reconstruction
Bless me bloggers, for I have sinned. It's been over a week since my last blog entry.
Sorry, but I've been either too busy or too pooped to peep. But I am happy to report that my CD storage unit did finally arrive on Monday. For some reason it came through Greyhound delivery, not UPS. Maybe that explains why everything went okay.
No shoes were harmed in the completion of this transaction.
Speaking of the wayward shoes, they finally left the building--yesterday! I saw the mailroom guy, Chris, as he was on his deliveries around the office (he bears a striking resemblence to SuperMario, even has an Italian accent), and when he saw me he said "The shoes are gone! It's over! It's finally over!"
Anyway, so I put the CD thing together over two nights. Last night I opened up all the boxes containing my CD collection. Wasn't really sure how to proceed, seeing as I had packed the CDs rather haphazardly; just grabbed clusters and put them in whichever box they fit, although I did try to keep artists together. So my Beatles, Stones, Neil Young, Dylan, Costello collections, for instance, were pretty much intact. I wasn't exactly sure how much of the rack the CDs would occupy, and how much room there'd be for DVDs and VHS tapes, so I just decided to throw everything on the shelves to see how much room there was. It all fit fine, but now, aside from the aforementioned artists, it's all pretty mixed up.
That's tonight's task. Arrange my CD collection into some semblence of order. Now, I'm one of those people who order their CDs quite meticulously. Within Artist, CDs are arranged chronologically going from earliest albums to latest albums, left to right. The major artists and favourites get prominent billing on the top shelves--so Beatles, Neil Young, Stones, Dylan, Costello, etc. Those are also my largest collections, so it's good to have them prominently displayed. I also try to group artists for whom I have fewer CDs by genre or association. Power pop, country, classic rock, jazz, reggae/world music, blues, soundtracks, etc. Then there's usually a shelf or two of Canadian indie artists, maybe female artists. Ah, but there I hit a snag and encounter ethical quandaries.
First of all, is it sexist of me to group female artists together? Shouldn't they simply go with whatever genre they belong to? Perhaps. But there are times when I want to hear a female voice, and when that's the case, I'll know where to look. And besides, isn't there something distinctly female about the way Kate Bush or Jane Siberry or even Patti Smith present themselves through their music? Something that is more than a mere genre? And what genre is Kate Bush exactly?
On the other hand, I have no problem putting Lucinda Willams and Emmylou Harris on the country/alt-country shelf. They can take care of themselves. But what about a group like Starling? Do they go on the Canadian indie shelf, or in with power-poppers like Big Star? And what about Badfinger? Classic rock? Power pop? Maybe they should be orbiting the Beatles shelf somehow?
Maybe I'm suffering from too much shelf-consciousness?
It's a tough chore though. Since 80% of the CDs are all mixed up across the shelves, how do I approach reconciling this CD diaspora? The only way I can figure, is to go through CD by CD, shelf by shelf and start shepherding them into the spaces where they belong. It's "Oh, there's a Tom Waits! That goes over here with the others. Jazz compilation! Let's put that in this stack on the floor. Lemonheads! That goes on the power pop shelf..." I think I'll have to make numerous passes through it all, and each time it'll get a little more organized. Then I'll probably have to make some wholesale shelf swaps. Country gets swapped with classic rock/brit pop/radiohead/coldplay/travis, etc.
I also got Stella back from the shop today, all happy with a new set-up and a new set of flat-wound strings. I'm listening to Wings Over America as I arrange my CD collection. I wanted to hear some good bass playing, and Macca's playing throughout that album always hits the spot. It makes for good CD-collection-arranging music. Not too demanding on the ears or attention span, and enjoyable for the spirit. Wings was the first band I really got into when I was a teeny bopper. These days I wouldn't call Wings a guilty pleasure--more like an innocent pleasure.
All right, back at it! These CDs ain't a-gonna library-ize themselves.
Sorry, but I've been either too busy or too pooped to peep. But I am happy to report that my CD storage unit did finally arrive on Monday. For some reason it came through Greyhound delivery, not UPS. Maybe that explains why everything went okay.
No shoes were harmed in the completion of this transaction.
Speaking of the wayward shoes, they finally left the building--yesterday! I saw the mailroom guy, Chris, as he was on his deliveries around the office (he bears a striking resemblence to SuperMario, even has an Italian accent), and when he saw me he said "The shoes are gone! It's over! It's finally over!"
Anyway, so I put the CD thing together over two nights. Last night I opened up all the boxes containing my CD collection. Wasn't really sure how to proceed, seeing as I had packed the CDs rather haphazardly; just grabbed clusters and put them in whichever box they fit, although I did try to keep artists together. So my Beatles, Stones, Neil Young, Dylan, Costello collections, for instance, were pretty much intact. I wasn't exactly sure how much of the rack the CDs would occupy, and how much room there'd be for DVDs and VHS tapes, so I just decided to throw everything on the shelves to see how much room there was. It all fit fine, but now, aside from the aforementioned artists, it's all pretty mixed up.
That's tonight's task. Arrange my CD collection into some semblence of order. Now, I'm one of those people who order their CDs quite meticulously. Within Artist, CDs are arranged chronologically going from earliest albums to latest albums, left to right. The major artists and favourites get prominent billing on the top shelves--so Beatles, Neil Young, Stones, Dylan, Costello, etc. Those are also my largest collections, so it's good to have them prominently displayed. I also try to group artists for whom I have fewer CDs by genre or association. Power pop, country, classic rock, jazz, reggae/world music, blues, soundtracks, etc. Then there's usually a shelf or two of Canadian indie artists, maybe female artists. Ah, but there I hit a snag and encounter ethical quandaries.
First of all, is it sexist of me to group female artists together? Shouldn't they simply go with whatever genre they belong to? Perhaps. But there are times when I want to hear a female voice, and when that's the case, I'll know where to look. And besides, isn't there something distinctly female about the way Kate Bush or Jane Siberry or even Patti Smith present themselves through their music? Something that is more than a mere genre? And what genre is Kate Bush exactly?
On the other hand, I have no problem putting Lucinda Willams and Emmylou Harris on the country/alt-country shelf. They can take care of themselves. But what about a group like Starling? Do they go on the Canadian indie shelf, or in with power-poppers like Big Star? And what about Badfinger? Classic rock? Power pop? Maybe they should be orbiting the Beatles shelf somehow?
Maybe I'm suffering from too much shelf-consciousness?
It's a tough chore though. Since 80% of the CDs are all mixed up across the shelves, how do I approach reconciling this CD diaspora? The only way I can figure, is to go through CD by CD, shelf by shelf and start shepherding them into the spaces where they belong. It's "Oh, there's a Tom Waits! That goes over here with the others. Jazz compilation! Let's put that in this stack on the floor. Lemonheads! That goes on the power pop shelf..." I think I'll have to make numerous passes through it all, and each time it'll get a little more organized. Then I'll probably have to make some wholesale shelf swaps. Country gets swapped with classic rock/brit pop/radiohead/coldplay/travis, etc.
I also got Stella back from the shop today, all happy with a new set-up and a new set of flat-wound strings. I'm listening to Wings Over America as I arrange my CD collection. I wanted to hear some good bass playing, and Macca's playing throughout that album always hits the spot. It makes for good CD-collection-arranging music. Not too demanding on the ears or attention span, and enjoyable for the spirit. Wings was the first band I really got into when I was a teeny bopper. These days I wouldn't call Wings a guilty pleasure--more like an innocent pleasure.
All right, back at it! These CDs ain't a-gonna library-ize themselves.
Wednesday, August 04, 2004
These Shoes Were Meant For Rockin'
Well, the Wilco tickets finally arrived Tuesday morning at work. Whew. Typed instructions on a sticker on the UPS envelope clearly telling the driver to take it to reception, business hours 9-5. Naturally, it was delivered to the warehouse mailroom at the back of the building. I didn't get a chance to see the driver. I was curious to find out which was lower: the knuckles, the slack jaw or the IQ.
And then, just when I thought my long, irrational nightmare was over ... sometime just before high noon ... THE SHOES CAME BACK!
Yes, poor Tracey Kelly's (no relation) wayward shoes landed back in this absurd landscape for a second tour of duty.
I escorted them back down to the mailroom and explained The Mistake II. They said they'd get the UPS guy to take them back. But they wanted to make sure that I was "rejecting" the shoes. The poor shoes. Shunted around aimlessly, and now I have to provide the final indignity -- the coup de grace -- of stating my rejection of them. But I think they could take it. They were cork soles.
Half an hour later, the guy from the mailroom calls me and says that he was talking to the people at UPS, and he wasn't able to explain the situation to them properly because he didn't have all the information -- was this woman related to me? Did I know her? He says I should call UPS and explain it to them.
Fair enough. I call UPS and explain The Mistake III. They say they'll send someone round.
(Y'know, it seems a fairly simple situation. A rather uncomplicated scenario. To wit: "These shoes are not mine. They belong to someone else. They were sent to me by mistake. Please take them away." And yet... somehow I get the feeling I would have had a breezier time explaining quantum physics to a flock of pigeons.)
A little while later, our receptionist calls me, and asks if everything was straightened away, because the guy from UPS is here (seems he's finally found his way to the reception area). I say yes, it's all straightened away, I got my package. I assumed he knew that he was to pick up the box of shoes.
As I was leaving for the day, I passed by reception and the receptionist says, "So, it's all squared away?" And I say, shaking my head and shrugging, "Yes, it looks that way. He got the shoes, did he?" Her face drops. "What shoes?"
Guess Mr. UPS will have to make another return trip. Shame.
Oh... and the Wilco show?
It was great. Getting away from his addiction to pain-killers must have done Jeff Tweedy a world of good. I've never seen the man smile so much! While he's playing and singing! Maybe the migraines are gone too. (He's been tortured for years with severe migraines, which led to the pain-killer dependence.)
Very cool venue too. It was my first time seeing a show at The Mod Club, and it was a treat. Not too big, not too small. Not sure what's up with the whole Mod thing, but anything's better than 80s nostalgia.
The set consisted only of songs from the last two albums. The new members of the band fill out the sound nicely. Sort of like The Wilco Wall Of Sound. Tweedy played a Gibson SG for most of the songs that needed guitar wankery soloing, but I was pleased to see him bring out the lovely, cherry red Epiphone Casino with the Bigsby tailpiece for "Jesus, Etc." Beauty of a guitar.
In the encores, they reached back to Summerteeth for "Via Chicago" and "I'm The Man That Loves You", and came back a couple of times, ending the night with an absolutely gorgeous-as-velvet reading of "The Lonely 1" from Being There.
Maximum soul satisfaction.
And then, just when I thought my long, irrational nightmare was over ... sometime just before high noon ... THE SHOES CAME BACK!
Yes, poor Tracey Kelly's (no relation) wayward shoes landed back in this absurd landscape for a second tour of duty.
I escorted them back down to the mailroom and explained The Mistake II. They said they'd get the UPS guy to take them back. But they wanted to make sure that I was "rejecting" the shoes. The poor shoes. Shunted around aimlessly, and now I have to provide the final indignity -- the coup de grace -- of stating my rejection of them. But I think they could take it. They were cork soles.
Half an hour later, the guy from the mailroom calls me and says that he was talking to the people at UPS, and he wasn't able to explain the situation to them properly because he didn't have all the information -- was this woman related to me? Did I know her? He says I should call UPS and explain it to them.
Fair enough. I call UPS and explain The Mistake III. They say they'll send someone round.
(Y'know, it seems a fairly simple situation. A rather uncomplicated scenario. To wit: "These shoes are not mine. They belong to someone else. They were sent to me by mistake. Please take them away." And yet... somehow I get the feeling I would have had a breezier time explaining quantum physics to a flock of pigeons.)
A little while later, our receptionist calls me, and asks if everything was straightened away, because the guy from UPS is here (seems he's finally found his way to the reception area). I say yes, it's all straightened away, I got my package. I assumed he knew that he was to pick up the box of shoes.
As I was leaving for the day, I passed by reception and the receptionist says, "So, it's all squared away?" And I say, shaking my head and shrugging, "Yes, it looks that way. He got the shoes, did he?" Her face drops. "What shoes?"
Guess Mr. UPS will have to make another return trip. Shame.
Oh... and the Wilco show?
It was great. Getting away from his addiction to pain-killers must have done Jeff Tweedy a world of good. I've never seen the man smile so much! While he's playing and singing! Maybe the migraines are gone too. (He's been tortured for years with severe migraines, which led to the pain-killer dependence.)
Very cool venue too. It was my first time seeing a show at The Mod Club, and it was a treat. Not too big, not too small. Not sure what's up with the whole Mod thing, but anything's better than 80s nostalgia.
The set consisted only of songs from the last two albums. The new members of the band fill out the sound nicely. Sort of like The Wilco Wall Of Sound. Tweedy played a Gibson SG for most of the songs that needed guitar wankery soloing, but I was pleased to see him bring out the lovely, cherry red Epiphone Casino with the Bigsby tailpiece for "Jesus, Etc." Beauty of a guitar.
In the encores, they reached back to Summerteeth for "Via Chicago" and "I'm The Man That Loves You", and came back a couple of times, ending the night with an absolutely gorgeous-as-velvet reading of "The Lonely 1" from Being There.
Maximum soul satisfaction.
Monday, August 02, 2004
Quote of the Week
Just read this interview with Jeff Tweedy in advance of tomorrow night's show. I nominate this for Quote of the Week:
"The guitar became a big voice on the record. It felt right to give it things the lyrics weren't able to get out. I mean, that's why God invented the electric guitar, so you can say things that you can't say with your voice."
Amen Brother Tweedy.
"The guitar became a big voice on the record. It felt right to give it things the lyrics weren't able to get out. I mean, that's why God invented the electric guitar, so you can say things that you can't say with your voice."
Amen Brother Tweedy.
Sunday, August 01, 2004
More UPS And Downs
Follow-up from the previous blog entry: UPS did not come through on Friday. If I could've reached through the phone and strangled them, I would have.
I had received nothing from them by late morning, so I decided to call to see if I could find out if the tickets were at least on the truck. The customer rep person told me that the driver had been at my work address at 8:54 a.m. and had been unable to make the delivery. Something to do with "no such receiver" or something, whatever that means. I verified that they had the address right. Yup. The rep asked if there was any other businesses at this address. Nope. It's the only building at this address. Large building on the corner with a huge sign out front. Can't miss it. They said it appeared the driver had been there at 8:54 and had attempted to make the delivery, but couldn't, for some reason. This despite the fact I had told them the previous day that my business hours were 9-5. So the driver shows up at 8:54?
But it gets weirder. I went down to talk to our receptionist, and she said she had been there since 8:30, and hadn't seen any UPS person come in. I checked with the guys in the mailroom, at the back door of the building (even though, UPS always delivers to the receptionist at the front), and they had received nothing.
I called UPS yet again. I was not my usual pleasant self. I expressed my dissatisfaction in very strong terms. They said the driver was on his/her route and there was a chance of a return visit later in the day, but they couldn't guarantee it. The lady I talked to was apologetic, but said there wasn't much she could do. She again offered the option of having me pick up the tickets at their depot way the hell across god's creation. I not-so-politely declined, citing the aforementioned notion that when a person pays for DELIVERY of something, there should at least be some semblance of the concept involved at some point, not requiring the alleged receiver to spend hours on a hot city bus travelling to pick up the "delivery". She said if the driver doesn't attempt a return delivery, all that I could do was wait for Tuesday.
I used my favourite Disgruntled Consumer phrase: "This is completely unacceptable." It's worked for me in the past. Didn't seem to have much of an impact in this instance. The customer rep lady was sympathetic, in a customer rep kind of way, but said there wasn't much else that could be done. There were some prolonged silences on my end, just to let the dissatisfaction soak into the conversation. I told her that since UPS had made the mistake of delivering someone else's shoes to me instead of my tickets the previous day, it was incumbent upon them to try a little harder to fix their mistake. I told her I didn't think they were trying hard enough. She repeated that there wasn't anything she could do. I replied, "Well, I guess I'll just have to be DISsatisfied with that."
We're on summer hours at work, and can leave by 1 p.m. on Fridays. I had work to do that would have kept me there till about 3:00 or so, but I stuck around longer on the off-chance the UPS numbskull returned. I waited until 4:30, and then left. On the way out, I left a note at reception that if there's a UPS delivery for me, to call my extension or leave it at reception. Just trying to cover all the bases. I plan to be there early on Tuesday morning.
But that's not the only bad customer experience of the day. Oh no! You might remember from a previous post that I had ordered from an online store a CD wall unit for my apartment. Shipment was supposedly to occur within 7 to 10 days. I had put the order in two weeks ago. There was supposed to be an email notifying me when the shipment left the factory in Vancouver. I had received nothing from them. I called them last week around Tuesday, got a voice mail, left a message. Heard nothing from them. I called them again on Friday. They looked into the situation and told me that apparently my order had not been downloaded with the rest of the orders from that day. Sigh. I had to give them my credit card info again to get the order processed. So hopefully I'll have that delivered in a week or so.
But here's the kicker: Guess who's delivering it?
Yup. The lovely delivery experts at UPS.
Can't wait to see what shows up at my door this time. Maybe more shoes! Whatever it is, I'm gonna make sure I'm home on delivery day, and I'm holding it hostage until I get what I ordered.
I had received nothing from them by late morning, so I decided to call to see if I could find out if the tickets were at least on the truck. The customer rep person told me that the driver had been at my work address at 8:54 a.m. and had been unable to make the delivery. Something to do with "no such receiver" or something, whatever that means. I verified that they had the address right. Yup. The rep asked if there was any other businesses at this address. Nope. It's the only building at this address. Large building on the corner with a huge sign out front. Can't miss it. They said it appeared the driver had been there at 8:54 and had attempted to make the delivery, but couldn't, for some reason. This despite the fact I had told them the previous day that my business hours were 9-5. So the driver shows up at 8:54?
But it gets weirder. I went down to talk to our receptionist, and she said she had been there since 8:30, and hadn't seen any UPS person come in. I checked with the guys in the mailroom, at the back door of the building (even though, UPS always delivers to the receptionist at the front), and they had received nothing.
I called UPS yet again. I was not my usual pleasant self. I expressed my dissatisfaction in very strong terms. They said the driver was on his/her route and there was a chance of a return visit later in the day, but they couldn't guarantee it. The lady I talked to was apologetic, but said there wasn't much she could do. She again offered the option of having me pick up the tickets at their depot way the hell across god's creation. I not-so-politely declined, citing the aforementioned notion that when a person pays for DELIVERY of something, there should at least be some semblance of the concept involved at some point, not requiring the alleged receiver to spend hours on a hot city bus travelling to pick up the "delivery". She said if the driver doesn't attempt a return delivery, all that I could do was wait for Tuesday.
I used my favourite Disgruntled Consumer phrase: "This is completely unacceptable." It's worked for me in the past. Didn't seem to have much of an impact in this instance. The customer rep lady was sympathetic, in a customer rep kind of way, but said there wasn't much else that could be done. There were some prolonged silences on my end, just to let the dissatisfaction soak into the conversation. I told her that since UPS had made the mistake of delivering someone else's shoes to me instead of my tickets the previous day, it was incumbent upon them to try a little harder to fix their mistake. I told her I didn't think they were trying hard enough. She repeated that there wasn't anything she could do. I replied, "Well, I guess I'll just have to be DISsatisfied with that."
We're on summer hours at work, and can leave by 1 p.m. on Fridays. I had work to do that would have kept me there till about 3:00 or so, but I stuck around longer on the off-chance the UPS numbskull returned. I waited until 4:30, and then left. On the way out, I left a note at reception that if there's a UPS delivery for me, to call my extension or leave it at reception. Just trying to cover all the bases. I plan to be there early on Tuesday morning.
But that's not the only bad customer experience of the day. Oh no! You might remember from a previous post that I had ordered from an online store a CD wall unit for my apartment. Shipment was supposedly to occur within 7 to 10 days. I had put the order in two weeks ago. There was supposed to be an email notifying me when the shipment left the factory in Vancouver. I had received nothing from them. I called them last week around Tuesday, got a voice mail, left a message. Heard nothing from them. I called them again on Friday. They looked into the situation and told me that apparently my order had not been downloaded with the rest of the orders from that day. Sigh. I had to give them my credit card info again to get the order processed. So hopefully I'll have that delivered in a week or so.
But here's the kicker: Guess who's delivering it?
Yup. The lovely delivery experts at UPS.
Can't wait to see what shows up at my door this time. Maybe more shoes! Whatever it is, I'm gonna make sure I'm home on delivery day, and I'm holding it hostage until I get what I ordered.
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