If We Don't Make It We'll Fake It

An article about me for a change...

2010-06-02T09:37:00.000-07:00

From Vinyl Collective

Today, we bring you our Wednesday Vinyl Collector of the Day, Chris Morin. Chris currently calls Montreal home, but from the sounds of it, he will again be moving in a few months or so. The photo you see above is actually of one of many moves for his collection. Chris describes the photo as, “A hilarious/tragic photo of my collection, en route to rural Saskatchewan, packed entirely in a 2-door Honda Civic hatchback.”

While I was concerned that posting a Collector feature every day might get to be a bit much, every one of them have been an interesting read. I recommend reading Chris’ story of how he got into collecting vinyl, his first vinyl purchase (which is also one of his most prized records), records he would like to see pressed, and out of print records he would love to own. Thanks Chris for taking the time to answer these questions. Glad to hear you now have a van to make moving your records that much easier.

VC: Your name and the city you live in.
Chris Morin, currently Montreal, Quebec, Canada – which, of course, could change at any moment.

VC: Do you catalog your records online? Where are they? Are you on the VC Message board? What is your username?
All my records are meticulously catalogued on Deadformat, username Ohnotherobot. I am on VC every day, under the same name, for all the vinyl news and internet hate I can stomach.

VC: How many records do you own?
According to Deadformat, around 650

VC: Why do you collect vinyl?
As a kid, I was always enamored with records. I used to go to the Sam The Record Man at the mall near my house and stealthily look at the metal records. I remember thinking I was getting away with something, and I kind of was – Warrant and Poison were pretty raunchy for a 7-year-old kid!

As I got older I started collecting records because I liked the aesthetic. At one point, I had about 600 CDs and 200 records and realized I had to cull my collection – I traded all the CDs in for records and acquired quite a few gems from a local store.

Having said that, I constantly question why I bother. Records are a huge pain in the ass to lug around the country, especially considering I haven’t lived anywhere for longer than 8 months in the past five years. Last year, when I moved from Montreal to Saskatoon, SK, it must have been hilarious for the airport security people to watch me claim a box of 80 records as carry-on and pretend it wasn’t heavy – which, of course, it was. However, since I work as a music journalist, it is nice having a virtual library of rock knowledge at my fingertips – I would liken this to a researcher working on a thesis in a library full of old books.

Recently, I just bought a van for the sole purpose of driving back to Saskatoon, where the majority of my collection is. I plan on driving back to Montreal with about 550-600 records in tow. That’s commitment to a collection!

VC: What was the first record you remember purchasing with your own money?
Not sure if this was the first, but I remember hearing Death From Above (pre-1979) for the first time and being completely blown away. So I wrote a nice letter to Andy from Ache Records and concealed a $20 bill for the Heads Up! EP and the Femme Fatale LP. Andy was nice enough to send clear vinyl – which, I would later find out, was retardedly rare.

VC: What is your most prized record in your collection?
Probably the above-mentioned Death From Above EP – it incorporates amazing graphic design with a short blast of fuzzed-out punk rock you can dance to. And, again, it is quite rare. Also, as a Man’s Ruin label collector, anything from that part of my collection is awesome – great stoner rock mixed with striking artwork will always win my heart. Therefore: my OG self-titled Queens of the Stone Age LP, the Turbonegro – Apocalypse Dudes I scored for hella cheap and the Acid King test-press that inexplicably wound up in a bin titled “Moog” at a local store.

VC: What release would you like to see come out on vinyl that hasn’t yet been released?
SNFU – Lets Get It Right The First Time. I’m a sucker for live records – they tend to capture an energy that most bands can never find in the studio. And, considering this is essentially a compilation of one of the best bands in hardcore punk with an absolutely mind-melting live show, this really is a no-brainer.

VC: What is the most you have spent for a record?
Probably $80 for the s/t Queens of the Stone Age, although I once shelled out $120 for a few Man’s Ruin 10”’s, including Electric Wizard, the Fuckemos, Dozer and Fatso Jetson. No regrets!

VC: What out of print record would you kill to own?
Probably all of the colour variants of the non-counterfeit Queens of the Stone Age s/t LP.

VC: What are your thoughts on color variants? Do you collect any artists in particular?
Although I am completely contradicting myself based on the above response, I really don’t have much use for variants. Because I travel so much, I will buy an album I already own if it is something I miss. Any doubles I own tend to get given away to friends. Otherwise, I find it counterintuitive and expensive to even bother.

VC: Do you sell or trade records?
Absolutely. But in addition to selling and trading, I am wholly committed to looking for rare records for friends. I come across friends’ want list items all the time and have no problem being a good bro and mailing them awesome records. Good karma, right?

VC: Your last 5 records that you purchased?
Nomeansno – Old (this was only available on their recent European tour – and someone I have never met from the UK was kind enough to buy this at a show and mail it to me!)
Unsane – Total Destruction
The Famines – Syllables
Harvey Milk – My Love Is Higher… – double translucent red and gold vinyl, limited to 80
Harvey Milk – Courtesy and Good Will… – double dark grey vinyl, limited to 500

Rock out with your gear out...

2010-05-22T08:45:00.000-07:00

From the latest Planet S Magazine

COVER STORY · MAY 20 2010

The Church Of Gear

OBSESSING OVER AWESOME INSTRUMENTS IS AN UNAVOIDABLE SICKNESS
by Chris Morin

Dakota illustration.jpgFor musicians, becoming obsessed with gear is almost unavoidable — but it’s also understandable. Playing a cheap, sketchy guitar that sounds like crap and constantly falls out of tune, for example, sucks — and so does hearing someone else play one. Not that every guitarist needs to own an original Les Paul, Rickenbacker or Strat, but it certainly helps.

Although financially draining, having a dependable collection of unique instruments is something every musician aims for. Firstly, that’s because we get consumed by owning it (think Gollum and his “precious”), but it’s also because good gear definitely sets you apart, especially if you’re a local band trying to make an impression.

The problem, however, is that great gear — whether brand new or vintage — doesn’t come cheap. Considering the laughably low incomes that most musicians make from their craft, that means obsessive collector-types are often looking at a lifetime of debt and second mortgages.

Still, any serious musician knows the value of quality over cheaply made crap.

“When recording I’ve found using good gear just gets better results,” states Kalon Beaudry, guitarist for Saskatoon’s Foggy Notions. “There’s a reason people want a Gibson over an Epiphone or a Fender over a Squire, for example. Vintage effects are the same — they’re coveted for a reason.”

Often, that reason is that a given instrument is linked to the classic rock era, where a careful listener can actually pick out the tones of a specific amp. For example, Brian May of Queen would never have cranked out such signature solos with a Strat copy. Sometimes, in order to capture a sound unlike any other, musicians have to be willing to drop some serious coin.

“I spent $3500 on a Carter pedal steel,” admits Etienne Soulodre of Regina alt-country band The Lazy MKs, “and I have no regrets whatsoever. It’s a double-neck, made out of maple that was at the bottom of Lake Superior for several hundred years.

“The gear we use absolutely makes a difference on the records,” he says. “My favourite is this Garnet tube amp that Chris [Prpich, bassist] found for my steel — it makes the steel sound like Neil Young with Crazy Horse.”

And achieving that type of perfect sound is what drives many musicians to make sacrifices that “normal” folks wouldn’t dream of.

“A lot of my peers own novel things like cars and homes,” says Mike Dawson of Regina’s Library Voices. “I’ve only got a couple of bookshelves and a mound of keyboards and guitars.

“It is definitely space-consuming,” continues Dawson, “but the instruments just become part of your everyday landscape. For the longest time, I used an old kick drum as a coffee table and an organ as a mantle.”

Clearly, becoming obsessive over gear is a sickness that results in regular trips to every music store in the city (and beyond) — but hunting for awesome instruments and accessories also means hitting up pawn shops and garage sales, and wearing out the refresh button on your computer while checking online classified sites.

“I usually scour the classifieds across the country on a daily basis, hoping to find a gem,” says Arnold Van Lambalgen of the now-defunct Jr. Pantherz. “Once I found a drum kit in Hamilton, Ontario for a real good price — so I had some friends in the city broker the deal and paid some other friends to bring them here when they toured through Saskatoon, all within a week.”

“While on tour I’ve stumbled across some great gear in dusty corners that I ended up taking home with me, like the Roland synthesizer we use all the time,” says Paul Ross of Foam Lake. “One time [when] we played Edmonton, we walked into the venue and bought the bass cabinet they were using as a coffee table.”

“Generally the stuff I find is strange but not as sought-after items,” says Chad Munson, guitarist of on-again off-again psych heroes Golden Smoke. “I hunt for vintage amps made in Canada, such as Traynors, Garnets and weirdo analog synths the average musician wouldn’t really fetishize over like I do, so often I stumble across these instruments at really good prices. Kijiji has been awesome for finding bargains — lots of people have no idea what they’re selling and often the price reflects this.”

When you find that perfect instrument — whether brand new or vintage — the feeling is indescribably good. The downside, of course, comes when one’s awesome collection of gear starts to conflict with other parts of your life — meaning hard choices must be made.

“I once sold a Moog, an MG 1 I think, to Brennan Hart (aka Knar) for enough money to take my future wife on a hot air balloon ride when I was crazy poor,” admits Steve Reed, of the now-defunct Carbon Dating Service. “I wouldn’t say that I regret that, but I miss the thing. At least I can still visit it sometimes.”

Tragedy can also strike for the obsessive gearhead when, after finally obtaining all the pieces you’ve always wanted, you hit the stage — and have your sound mangled by a sound guy who couldn’t care less about your music.

“Gear is out of your hands on stage generally,” admits Beaudry. “Because even if you’ve got the sweetest Space Echo [effects unit] on stage and you’re really feeling it, if the sound person is an Ohbijou fan or whatever, chances are he’s got it turned down.”

And in the end, Reed is probably right when he says that, no matter how fun chasing down great gear and playing with it is, the song is still the most important thing.

“Whether playing shows or recording friends, it’s never really about the quality of the gear,” he says. “Only gear-heads give a shit about what we use on stage, and for recording it’s mostly about the sounds before they hit the mics. In my opinion a relaxed, experimental and collaborative approach will always eclipse any amount of high-fidelity gear.”

But man, is that black SG in the music store window ever sweet — only two weeks ‘til payday…

And in the Meantime and Between Time...

2010-05-06T09:59:00.000-07:00

From the latest PLANET S MAGAZINE

MOVIES · MAY 06 2010

The Real Mr. Pig

PUNK ROCK ICON TELLS STORY ON OWN TERMS IN HARROWING, IMPRESSIVE DOC
by Chris Morin

OPEN UP YOUR MOUTH AND SAY MR. CHI PIG
Followed by SNFU
Saturday 8
Amigos

Open Your Mouth and Say Mr. Chi Pig is a harrowing documentary that examines the life — and quite likely the near-death — of one of punk rock’s most influential, charismatic and disturbed front men, Mr. Chi Pig of SNFU. For punk lovers, the film is clearly essential viewing, but even for non-fans the story of Mr. Pig (born Kendall Chinn) — which is told here largely by the man himself — is one worth watching.

Bursting out of the Edmonton hardcore scene of the early ‘80s, SNFU — formed by Chinn and brothers Marc and Brent Belke — quickly became one of the biggest names of North American punk rock. However, as SNFU faded from the limelight, Chinn quietly succumbed to mental disorder and a fierce drug addiction, and was essentially reduced to living the rough life of a homeless junkie in Vancouver.

First and foremost, the doc chronicles that rise and fall — but according to Open Your Mouth filmmaker Sean Shaul, the film may also have had a hand in saving Chinn’s life.

“Chi has said to me, and he may be embellishing, that we saved his life several times,” says Shaul. “He wasn’t clean when we started making the movie, and he began cleaning up over the course of the documentary. He said that doing the film and the response that we were getting [to the fact] that the film was even just coming out was really driving him.”

Shaul and his partner Craig Laviolette met the singer while frequenting various bars in Vancouver, such as Pub 340 and the now-defunct Cobalt — where Chinn was working as a busser for free beer. While befriending Chinn, the duo began hearing snippets of his tumultuous life story.

“I grew up in Edmonton, where the band originally started, so they were one of the first punk bands that I saw, back in 1995 when I was 13,” explains Shaul. “A mutual friend of Chi Pig’s and myself was telling me Chi’s back-story and I had realized that I sort of forgot about him and SNFU. This friend had told me what happened to him and it was such an interesting story — no magazines had been covering it and it was relatively unknown. I thought it would make a good documentary so I pitched the idea to Chi Pig, and he thought it was a good idea too.”

The documentary is currently making the rounds on the independent film festival circuit, but it’s also become a staple of a reformed SNFU’s live show. In fact, SNFU guitarist Ken Goonie says “[the] documentary is getting an amazing response. Our shows have been sold out across Canada — they’ve all been stellar shows with, 500 to 700 people showing up.”

Along with Chinn telling his story in his own words, Open Your Mouth showcases a an awesome guestlist of punk rock heroes from yesteryear — including Jello Biafra of the Dead Kennedys and Chuck Dukowski from Black Flag. But perhaps even more impressive are appearances by several decidedly non-punk rockers, such as Matthew Good and Brendan Canning of Broken Social Scene, proving that the influence of Chinn and SNFU extended far beyond the realm of hardcore.

As anyone who has ever witnessed SNFU in action can attest, Chinn has always been the focal point of the band, half whirling-dervish and half animated punk rock puppeteer. Although Chinn admits he can’t pull off the antics he used to, veteran punk fans in this city will remember him diving headfirst into an audience and doing a headstand, legs stretched into the air, far above the crowd.

In light of that, when the documentary’s footage focuses on Chinn, clearly dishevelled and emaciated during the height of his drug use, it is both shocking and emotional.

But Shaul, who admits he lost both a job and a girlfriend during the making of Open Your Mouth, says that the end result of the documentary is ultimately a positive and uplifting one.

“From day one [Chi Pig] said that if this was going to happen he wanted to tell his story in his own words and he wanted it to be done right, which is exactly what you would want to hear if you were pitching this to him,” he says. “And he felt the same way in that he had a fan base that didn’t know what had happened to him. He was really receptive, and once the documentary making process started he was really honoured that someone would do this for him. And, of course, we were really honoured as well. It was definitely good for both of us.”

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THE FIRE STILL BURNS…

Getting a hold of Chi Pig for an interview — at least over the phone — isn’t exactly the easiest thing to accomplish. In the hunt for a few words with the man regarding the recent documentary made about his life, Planet S was given this response from SNFU’s publicity agent:

“Chi is tough to get a hold of but here is what you do: He hangs out at PUB 340 in Vancouver every day from like 2 to 6 pm, so call there and ask for him.”

After several calls yielding awkward and empty-handed results, Mr. Pig was finally persuaded to answer a few questions on the bar’s phone — for a few minutes. In the end, perhaps it’s best to take the attitude that it’s comforting to know age hasn’t tempered either Chi Pig’s punk attitude or his incendiary, larger-than-life persona — despite the rather unnerving conversation…

CHI PIG: “I hope you have your shit together because there was a fucking douchebag, and I am a douchebag too, there was some dude who called me up and he didn’t have any questions to ask me. And I hope this is not you.”

PLANET S: “Nope, that is not me.”

CP: I’m willing and able to talk.

PS: What do you think about your documentary?

CP: In my perspective it’s a little long-winded. If I was able to re-edit it, I would’ve shortened it a little. But I like the fact that I got to tell the story of my life in that 90-minute period. Because there is a bunch of innuendo and bullshit on this Google, Twitter, blogging shit rumours about me. So otherwise, you got me and I told the truth about how all this shit went down.

PS: So how has this affected SNFU?

CP: Dude, the movie wasn’t about SNFU it was about me. I just happen to be a douchebag who was in a band called SNFU. All the other fuckers fucked off or quit. Do you realize it wasn’t an SNFU? There is a reason it was called Open Your Mouth and Say Mr. Chi Pig. It’s me telling my fucking life story.

PS: When I spoke with Sean the other day…

CP: Well it doesn’t matter what Sean says about that, it matters what I think of the movie. Who is Sean? Sean isn’t my family. Sean is a person who makes films.

PS: What do you think about SNFU playing in Costa Rica in a few days?

CP: No, I’m totally disappointed that I have to go to Costa Rica. Are you fucking kidding me? What a bummer that is.

At this point in the call the phone line essentially contained plenty of background laughter and random bar noises for a few seconds, before being unceremoniously — although perhaps thankfully — disconnected at the other end. /Morin

DAILY READING - May 6, 2010

2010-05-06T09:57:00.000-07:00

From the latest PLANET S MAGAZINE

MUSIC · MAY 06 2010

Feather Cannon In 3-2-1... Engage!

SCATTERHEART BRINGS BIG ROCK BOMBAST BACK TO THE FUTURE
by Chris Morin

SCATTERHEART
Friday 7
The Roxy

With one listen to the fabulously flamboyant rock of Scatterheart, it becomes clear that fun is paramount for this Vancouver band (well, that and finding a tailor who won’t skimp on the plumage). Channelling the sound and style of ‘80s-vintage glam-pop metal — in the best way possible — it seems they’ve made it a personal mission to bring energy, love and brightly-coloured boas back to rock ‘n roll.

If nothing else, says frontman Jesse Enright, audiences should expect to be entertained — but if you’re going to see a band armed with their own feather cannons and bubble machines, that should probably be self-evident.

“We’ve only ever gotten positive reactions — at least to our faces,” laughs Enright. “I’m sure there are people out there who think it is ridiculous and silly, but that’s not a bad thing. I wanted to make Scatterheart a show like going to watch a theatre. As a band, you can just stand there in jeans and a t-shirt and whatever, or you can wear silly costumes, jump around, shoot feathers at people and have giant bubbles floating everywhere.

“There’s definitely a comedic part to it,” he continues. “Partly to amuse ourselves, but also to get people stoked — at our last big hometown show at the Commodore, I actually flew onstage with a harness. I mean it’s just fun, and everybody’s in on it — like when we play small towns in Alberta and these big, tough redneck-looking guys come up to us raving about our show, like they understand it. Everybody wants to have fun.”

Just as impressively, their latest album, The Masterplan, shows that Scatterheart can accomplish a recording worthy of the infectious energy of their Queen-inspired, larger-than-life stage show. Their songwriting goes much deeper than most bands featuring blow-dried coifs, bombastic stage shows and loud guitars could hope to achieve — and that’s important, says Enright, because a big stage show is still pretty much an empty shell if the music falls short.

“I ended up in Australia where the rock scene is really dark and sleazy — which can seem totally awesome and fun from the outside, but being on the inside is totally depressing,” explains Enright. “So I decided I wanted to get back into music. When we started we had this idea that we wanted to go through with: we didn’t just want to get some songs together and look cool and get chicks and all that. We had a purpose for doing this.”

Still, being the centre of attention during all that onstage bombast is a great time, says Enright — like a recent festival Scatterheart played in Korea, which he says was both rewarding and surreal.

“Korea was super cool. It was like playing the part of a Bon Jovi-type rock band — the show was incredible, with a catwalk and a jumbo-tron, and the crowd was incredible with how much energy they had. It was explained to me that Korean people work really hard, so when they want to have fun they make sure they really have fun. It was really overwhelming for the first couple of songs because it was a sea of people jumping, like 25,000 people,” says Enright.

“Plus, you have to act like you do it all the time — I was watching myself on the jumbo-tron and then I realized that I was acting like a dork in front of 25,000 people. I had to remind myself to act like it was all no big deal.”

***************************************************************************
Shock Treatment, Indeed

NOBUNNY
Tuesday 11
Amigos

If you’ve ever wondered what Ramones-esque pop-punk would sound like as interpreted by a masked freak — well, you’re just plain weird. Still, you’re in luck — because Nobunny can answer that critical question.

Wearing a rabbit mask that comes across like a terrifying mix of Muppet and Slipknot, Nobunny (aka Justin Champlin) is an odd sight indeed. He’s also a guy who offers up hyper-charged doses of the kind of garage punk that’s so inexplicably — but thankfully — popular these days.

Obviously most well-known for his entertaining stage show — which has reportedly featured both firecrackers and partial nudity (though hopefully not at the same time) in the past — Nobunny is probably best seen live to be truly understood. Still, even his Twitter page (which is peppered with blurbs such as “Ewww! My underwear is moulding and growing hair!”) is absolutely hilarious.

But behind the gimmickry and bathroom humour is a talented songwriter, one whose knack for pop hooks belies his penchant for masked buffoonery. His latest album, Love Visions — featuring a cover photo that pays homage to The Ramones’ 1976 self-titled debut — is full of indie-punk gems that sparkle with both simplicity and a serious pop edge. Combine that with what clearly looks to be one of the most unique live displays you’ll ever see, and this show should be approaching can’t-miss status.

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Can You Print That On An Award Statue?

FUCKED UP
Saturday 15
Amigos

“If what I’m doing on stage looks hideous now, I can only imagine what it will look like when I’m 50,” laughs Damian Abraham — the 300-pound, often semi-nude lead singer of Fucked Up.

With a sound that more than matches their mammoth stage presence, the Toronto-based six-piece have earned the distinction of being a hardcore punk band that has inexplicably taken the mainstream by storm — an honour that was officially cemented when they won the 2009 Polaris Prize.

Still, Abraham is pretty sure that Fucked Up won’t ever end up the Rolling Stones of hardcore.

“We’re a band that has a built-in limit,” he says. “But there was a lot of luck and good timing on our side — [and] it gets to a point where it can only go so far. I mean, where do you go after you win the Polaris? We know it’s not going to last forever, so we may as well not worry about topping ourselves all the time. You can get caught up in [trying to do] something interesting all the time, and it can destroy you as a person.”

Few bands can match the intensity or the work ethic of Fucked Up. From their humble beginnings within Southern Ontario’s DIY hardcore punk scene, the band has since grown in both sound and reputation, becoming known as a musical force that refuses to accept the limits of their genre.

In a scant few years, Fucked Up has released an impressive library of music, including several albums (such as 2008’s The Chemistry of Common Life), mini LPs and dozens of 7” singles. Along the way, they’ve also become infamous for their manically destructive live sets, and for pulling off stunts like playing for 24 hours straight. (Want something even stranger? Well, Abraham was also invited to become a regular guest on the Fox News show Red Eye.)

Potentially short shelf life aside, Abraham promises that Fucked Up’s momentum — and penchant for the bizarre — will most certainly continue into the near future.

“We’ve definitely got some weird stuff in the pipeline, like some really weird, bizarre stuff,” says Abraham. “Every time something happened, there was always something weirder waiting in the wings, so we would try that.

“Our next album is going to be a rock opera — and it’s going to be our weirdest, and greatest, album yet.”

Latest Planet S Magazine

2010-04-28T08:46:00.000-07:00

From PLANET S MAGAZINE

MUSIC · APR 22 2010

The Writing’s On The Wall

NEW ALBUM IN TOW, REGINA INDIE-POP COLLECTIVE LOOKS DESTINED TO BREAK BIG
by Chris Morin

LIBRARY VOICES
Friday 23
Amigos

The term “Canadian Tuxedo” comes from a line from the excellent (shut up — I liked it…) movie Super Troopers, describing an ensemble that pairs jeans and a jean jacket.

Sure, it was used as an ironic insult in the film — but after a listen to Denim on Denim, the first proper full-length from Regina indie-pop menagerie Library Voices, one suspects the phrase may well become the next buzzword in Canada’s indie rock circles.

“[The album title is] actually just taken from the song ‘Insider Trading (On Outsider Art),’” explains multi-instrumentalist Michael Dawson. “It's sort of a straight-faced, dry song about finding your place in this world. With that said, I also think the title does its best to fit in with the scene our band belongs to — in the same way that if we were an ‘80s hair metal band, “Leather On Leather” would’ve been an apt title.”

While hair-whipping metal solos aren’t exactly a part of the Library Voices canon, a steady progression towards national — and international — success certainly seems to be. With Denim on Denim now out in both CD and vinyl formats, a successful stint at the Olympics (“It didn't hurt that beer was flowing like water everywhere you turned,” jokes Dawson) and positive reviews coming from across North America, the eight-piece (and often more) collective looks primed to break out in a big way.

Dawson says that success stems from, simply, doing what they’ve always done — but doing it better, thanks to the experience they’ve gained over the years.

“Musically, the new album is very much an extension of our Hunting Ghosts EP,” says Dawson. “I think our songwriting matured exponentially. It's sort of like any new relationship: with Denim On Denim it felt more like we'd finally moved past that and things were going so well we were talking about moving in together.

“Lyrically I've been describing the album as here-and-now. It draws a lot on pop culture, the state of the modern family — and of course, the impending apocalypse.”

Musically, the band is a large, brilliantly overwhelming mish-mash of sound, with instruments like accordion, saxophone and theremin adding a lush feel to the indie rock base that drives their songs.

Happily, Denim on Denim is a fine representation of the over-crowded dance party that Library Voices brings to every show they play — which, given their love of the stage, happens often.

“I don't think it was stated specifically when we first started out that we wanted to tour constantly, but we’re very much a live band,” says Dawson. “That's where our songs translate the best. We're very lucky that we have a group of people who have made the necessary sacrifices in their personal and professional lives to keep us on the road as much as humanly possible.

“For a long time we’d all fallen [under] the unfortunate impression that you have to suffer or struggle in the music that you create,” he continues. “I have no idea how or why that came about, but when we started Library Voices it was very intentional that we wanted to create music and enjoy the process — [and] I hope that’s apparent from our live performances.

“It's strange, but being on the road as much as we are — with nine-plus people stuffed into a van — we get along better at all times than any other smaller band I've ever been a part of.”
*************************************************************************************

Still Waters Run Deep

THE BESNARD LAKES
Friday 30
Amigos

Besnard Lake is located in the great northern boreal forest of Saskatchewan — making it a fitting spiritual muse for husband and wife duo Jace Lasek and Olga Goreas.

Borrowing their name from what locals call the “Lake of Many Islands,” The Besnard Lakes play haunting, isolationist psych-pop, conjuring up plenty of textured noise that perfectly captures the lonesome beauty of the area that gave them their name.

While they moved to the fertile indie rock stomping grounds of Montréal a while back, the band returns to Saskatchewan every summer — much to the delight of fans in their native province.

Formed in Regina in 2003, The Besnard Lakes eventually started their own studio in Montréal to achieve the unique combination of psychedelica and pop that characterizes their sound. (In fact, rumour has it that their latest album, The Besnard Lakes Are The Roaring Night, utilized the same mixing console that Led Zeppelin used on Physical Graffiti.)

With an army of effects pedals at their disposal, watching The Besnard Lakes live is akin to watching a skilled mason slowly construct a brick building — the end result is wonderfully impressive, but it takes some patience to get there. Like their namesake, The Besnard Lakes are perhaps best enjoyed as an overall experience, appreciated for the journey as much as the end result.

*************************************************************************************
You Guys Better Not Be Touring In A Ford!

JON AND ROY
Friday 23
Vangelis

Jon and Roy have made some fairly huge strides of late — despite steadfastly describing themselves as a “local band.” The Victoria-based folk-reggae-roots band (named after core duo Jon Middleton and Roy Vizer) has been featured in surf videos, as the soundtrack for programming on PBS and the National Geographic channel — and in a Volkswagen car commercial, of all things.

While hard-core folkies may balk at the idea of a band licensing their music to shill vehicles, Middleton says the band is simply thrilled to have their music reach as many people as possible (and hey — it’s Volkswagen, which has long been first in hippie hearts).

“I don’t find it strange that we got a song in a Volkswagen commercial pretty quick,” says Middleton. “We never really considered it too much except that it was just another way for us to get our music out there.”

Formed in 2003, the independent act quickly gained momentum while taking their stripped-down, acoustic-meets-world-beats sound across Canada — as well as a short stop in England with Buck 65. While they were in Saskatoon last year while opening for Cat Empire, Jon and Roy (currently touring in support of their latest album, Homes) have since expanded both their line-up and their sound.

“The band used to be just myself and Roy but we added a bass player, which has changed the way we write songs,” says Middleton. “And we’ve also added a guy who plays a mandolin live full time, which again has changed what we do live — so we’ve definitely achieved a fuller sound.

“I’m always hoping someone will be pleasantly surprised in terms of our live show being a lot more energetic than our recordings, which are a little bit more low key. Live, we tend to play harder and do some improvisational things, so if someone has only heard our albums they would probably be surprised by us live anyway.”

*************************************************************************************
Send In The Clowns

NOFX
Sunday 25
Odeon

When you’ve had an almost 30-year run as arguably the world’s greatest continuously functioning punk band, the idea of topping yourself and remaining relevant must be daunting (especially since the vast majority of what passes for “punk” these days has long been safe enough to hang at the mall or meet your parents).

So take a bow, Fat Mike.

As the singer-bassist of NOFX, Fat Mike has long been known for outrageous behaviour — and his latest stunt offered yet more proof that, while you might be able to dress a punk up, taking him out on the town remains an iffy proposition.

In what might be one of the greatest (or grossest, for those who partook of the free “drinks” on offer) punk rock spectacles ever, Fat Mike pulled off easily the most memorable piece of performance art at this year’s SXSW festival in Texas. After playing a few acoustic numbers, Fat Mike — dressed as the title character of NOFX’s latest 7”, Cokie the Clown — proceeded to shock the audience by telling a few stories from his past. These included witnessing the prelude to a rape, his roommate’s death and participating in his mother’s euthanasia. Whoa.

As the proverbial icing on the cake, Mike/Cokie closed the show with a video of him urinating into a bottle of liquor — which he had distributed to the crowd earlier in the show. (To be fair, he did play a song entitled “Drinking Pee.”)

Shocking? Yes. Gross? Undeniably. Further cementing Fat Mike’s place amongst the upper echelon of punk rock’s legends? Absolutely.

It’s certainly not that either Mike or NOFX as a whole needs to worry about their place in the history of punk, however. Formed in 1983 by original members Mike, drummer Erik Sandlin and guitarist Eric Melvin, NOFX began their career like most punk bands, playing basements and touring in a station wagon. In the nearly 30 years since, they’ve released 12 full-length albums, numerous EPs and several live albums — and, unlike almost every other punk band with any longevity, they’ve yet to release an album that completely sucks.

Along the way, NOFX has influenced countless bands (for better and for worse, it must be said) — many of whom can be found on Fat Mike’s own label, Fat Wreck Chords. They’ve also remained pretty much true to their punk roots — such as in 2003, when NOFX used their influence to try and sway popular political opinion, with the album The War on Errorism, the Punkvoter website and the Rock Against Bush tour.

Most importantly — and especially in terms of their upcoming Saskatoon date — NOFX has always been an amazing, often hilarious live act. Just make sure you get your drinks from the bar...

Jim Cuddy, Blue Rodeo - Q and A interview

2010-01-16T12:55:00.001-08:00

*I decided I am going to do this again*

The following is an interview conducted with Jim Cuddy of Blue Rodeo.

You can read the article corresponding with the interview at Planet S Magazine, or go HERE.

CM: The Things We Left Behind is garnering a lot of rave reviews – are you surprised by the album’s success?

JC: When you put out a record you have no idea how it is going to be received. How the band feels about the record rarely jives with how people feel about the album. But I think I am happy about it being talked about for its form and content. The fact that we did vinyl and made it a double record seems to be of more interest now and that is really satisfying because there is a lot to talk about with vinyl coming back or people having more access to music now. The album as a piece of work is less fragmented so its nice to see people responding to all the work and effort being put into these sorts of things as an artist still matters.

Is there a common lyrical theme that runs throughout the album?

There isn’t a common lyrical theme on the album but, and this is something that always occurs to us after the fact, is that there are common themes once you stand back from it. The common themes, as we get older, are a lot more the-way-things-are with hints of mortality. So as I get older I start to see these themes.
We have two songwriters who don’t work together so we get together with our songs and its uncanny how similar these songs can be considering they are written in isolation.

Has there been any change in your songwriting arrangement with Greg Keelor?

It’s the same arrangement but in terms of the intensity of it is different. When we were first starting everything was new it was exciting because we were trying to figure it all out. And then in the middle part of our career we suddenly had a career, which surprised us. There is a lot of tension when you are working in a competitive way. Nowadays the mutual respect we have for each other is a lot more forefront. I mean being able to do this once again after all these years is just amazing.

You have obviously seen a lot of changes in the music industry since you first started. Was there ever any specific plan to adapt to these changes or was it all just serendipitous?

Its always been serendipity even though we’ve done many different things to adapt. But we’ve always just made the music that seems the most important to us at the time. And we’re lucky that we’ve always occupied a separate space in that we’ve never been overly attached to the most popular music of the day. When we started there was a lot of hard rock bands out there and our music was very meek, yet we succeeded on the radio. Every time we put out a new record the label would sit us down and tell us how hard it was going to be for us. I think we represent something different than a lot of other bands do. We represent something more personal. We tour a lot to every little town and city. So when our music comes out I don’t think it matters what our record sounds like as long as it sounds fresh and original and it sounds like we are doing something that matters to us.

With Blue Rodeo’s countless appearances on the CBC, your many cross-country tours, playing at Parliament Hill and your performance at the upcoming 2010 Olympics, at what point did you realize how engrained with Canadiana your band had become?

Well those things are really just the icing on the cake. Its because we meet people all the time and so many people say things to us like ‘I saw you at a bar in Sydney’ or ‘I saw you when I was going to university in Guelph.’ We realized we became a part of peoples’ lives at a fairly significant time in their lives when they were a teenager or a young adult. And they took us with them through the rest of their lives. Who knows how that happens?
We didn’t play Parliament Hill because we are so world famous, we played because everyone involved had some connection to us. The Olympics is the same thing. I think the Olympics is going to be a good example of how Canadian bands have become a part of the national consciousness in the last 20 years. There weren’t this many bands 20 years ago and the media didn’t give this much coverage and there weren’t this many opportunities for Canadian music. We are lucky that we’ve been a part of a generation of Canadian musicians that have been embraced by audiences.

After all these years on the road what is touring like nowadays?

Touring is a blast. Long ago we decided that touring is best done in the winter because it was the time when we were the least missed at home and people didn’t have a million options. It’s a lot fun and you get to see how people are coping with winter, whether it is devastating or mild. It’s a charmed life when you are out on the road. You spend the day getting ready for your concert and you don’t have a lot of other responsibilities.

What continues to inspire you to do Blue Rodeo?

We enjoy each other’s company and we enjoy being on the road and playing music. We are all the type of people who would be compelled to do music; I think it might be something in our DNA. So we would be doing this anyway. So I guess we’re lucky that we have this forum for it. We can play on stages for audiences. We really enjoy it and its contributed greatly to our happiness as human beings.

Weekend Wars

2009-10-22T04:27:00.001-07:00

Getting old is pretty cool. Just ask old man man Tyson McShane. On October 20, he celebrated his 29th birthday in Montreal with a show at L'Emisphere Gauche and he rocked harder and sang with more clarity than I have ever witnessed. Getting old is lhaving to review every shitty thing you did. But the trick is having the balls to make right on it.

Indeed, there is video and mp3 evidence.

What there is hopefully not evidence of? Our post-party at Chez Serge, where a mechanical bull was ridden by all.

Fredericton is okay. But Halifax is going to be the cheese. Also, clean socks are paramount; clean underwear is fucking crucial.

Men

2009-10-20T07:40:00.000-07:00

*The following is a preamble to touring with Slow Down Molasses. The reason I do this is I have yet to see them. But this story is very Montreal, I assure you.*

I had approximately one job interview in precisely four months in Montreal. Hilariously, it was for Fox Broadcasting for a men’s website called Askmen.com. I didn’t really want a job but it seemed foolish to not go. But in preparing, I was suddenly forced to evaluate my masculinity.

What would I ask men? And how would I respond? The answer was actually somewhat clear, the one that all men knew but few cared to admit: “I don’t know.”

I had never felt particularly manly. I had played sports as a kid – not well. And I had maybe driven a truck once. But I truly had no idea what it meant to be a man. Suddenly forced to articulate it in a general interest article, I started reaching: I wrote about cooking with curry (at the job interview, when asked why curry, my reply would be “lunch”).

It was strange that I had even gotten the job interview, and my article certainly did not ‘wow’. Cooking isn’t typically considered manly, as it is stereotypically women’s work. And like any stereotype worth its salt the truth of the statement could be measured in ounces, cups and gallons.

This was especially apparent growing up with the women in my family. They take turns fretting over the stove. They strong-arm vegetables, pulverizing and pureeing in a dazzling display of strength. And they literally crush entire meals with their bare hands.

But I came to realize that cooking is one of my ultimate expressions of manliness. Commandeering the kitchen, I become confident and powerful. I control what will be consumed and by who. I am the provider. As I cook I reach a Zen-like state of relaxation. And my knowledge of food and its preparation has been enough to steam the pants off of someone – tres manly!

In the end I didn’t get the job at the men’s website (merci monsieur!). Instead I brushed up on being manly. I spent my time cooking, frying, boiling, peeling, brazing and broiling. And steaming the pants off of someone.

GO HERE!

2009-10-08T09:30:00.001-07:00

http://chrixmorixdesign.blogspot.com/

"Get up. I mean it, get up. Now go get a life."

2009-09-24T20:42:00.000-07:00

Our Son Ourson.

Carl, my new co-worker, is instructing me on how to survive a bear attack.

“If a bear charges at you, he is probably just trying to fuck with you,” Carl says, his drawl accented by the cigarette barely clinging to his lower lip. “A bear will run at you and then take off at the last second. They do this to see if they are dealing with a pussy. If he doesn’t turn he thinks he can take you. So then you’re going to have to shoot him. Or stab him with whatever materials are in your possession.”

I nod, pretending to soak up this valuable bit of information.

“Except you can’t shoot him,” continues Carl. “It’s illegal to possess a firearm in a national park. And it’s illegal to exterminate wildlife.”

“So what do I do then?” I ask.

“Punch him the fuck out,” snorts Carl.

24 hours ago this sort of instruction would have been retardedly laughable. A day ago – and approximately 3,212 KM away – I had a better chance of being mauled by Separatists for being on the wrong side of the Quebec tracks. And, as one of the many spoiled, lazy, English-speaking denizens of Montreal, the odds were good. And now I have to train to fight a bear.

I think about a few of the gorier scenes of the movie Grizzly Man before my pop-culture-drunken mind invariably wanders to childhood memories of Rocky IV. After a quick evaluation, I can safely state that I am more of an Uncle Paulie than a Rocky Balboa. I fancy myself a foul-mouthed observer and am easily taken with robots, and therefore have no business fighting anything that can hit, or bite, back.

“We’ve been having plenty of problems with bears this year,” offers Carl. “No one’s gotten hurt though.”

It occurs to me, if confronted by a bear, I might actually become more of an Apollo Creed. I silently vow to stay indoors for the tenure of my contract.

Carl bombs the truck through a campground, keeping up appearances of giving me an official tour. He leans out the window to spit. The hork, thick with fetid food, tobacco and dirt, catches in the wind and smears across his cheek. He doesn’t notice. I make my second oath of the day to quit my job and to not look at Carl for the rest of the summer.

Something quick, something slick

2009-09-04T17:42:00.000-07:00

Sometimes, I don't mind it:

Just got off the phone with Wayne Petti, of Cuff the Duke fame, with a sweet interview.

Drinking Tankhouse Ale - an excellent Toronto-based pale ale.

A burrito is asleep and snoring in my stomach.

Plotting several jaunts including an east coast tour with some lovely musical ninnies, a week sojourn away from work, a trip to escape the blustery Saskatchewan winter and a Las Vegas binge to celebrate turning 30.

I am 84 hours away from work.

And I guess I get to go to good ol' Saskatoon? Much asian tofu will be devoured.

Brief foray into a novel

2009-08-30T10:45:00.000-07:00

Visiting the doctor has become my new thing. In fact, he has replaced muscle relaxants, hot sauce or girls with short, black hair as my new addiction. I can’t help it; he makes me feel young. I want him to tell me I am well. I crave his reassurance. I cling to his every word hoping to hear that I am beautiful, inside and out.

The doctor and I have a relationship that is completely not unpleasant. It is brief with conversation kept to a minimum but hella punctual – what more could a guy ask for? Even better, our dates end with heavy petting.

The doctor pulls down my underwear for me and gives each testicle a good squeeze. I think about the last time my girlfriend gave me that much attention. Sorry, ex-girlfriend.

I decide that maybe it’s a better idea to envision something less sexy. Like a US Marine Corp stepping on a grape tomato. Or a hammer smashing an eyeball. Or my scrotum being run over by a Ford Coupe.

The check-up goes by, mercifully, without incident or erection. Drunken escapades aside, this may be the one time I am thrilled that my penis doesn’t work.

"Kleenex Kueen"

2009-08-27T13:56:00.000-07:00

I am not feeling well and justifiably called in sick to work today. I am worried about three things, in particular order:

1) Work has been breathing down my neck with impending deadlines and metre-stick bureaucracies. Speaking of deadlines, I have also perhaps unconsciously waited until the last minute to sign my extension papers, thusly committing me to another six weeks of Waskesiu weather into the muscley part of December.

2) My creative workload is a half-hearted, half-heated affair, with plenty of misfires, interruptions and failed erections. My paintings suffer from ADD but my music endeavours are still-born cripples. I am, slowly, becoming a better drummer.

3) My body is aging. This would be neat except I have to live with the guy and a sick roommate is an unfun one.

* * * * *

I am currently following this and think perhaps you might benefit from Raymond's Swiss-esque meticulousness as well.

Like him, I will start updating much more frequently. Tomorrow, maybe.

Camping at Crean Lake, 2009

2009-08-09T21:17:00.000-07:00

Life, but how to live it?

2009-07-31T17:42:00.000-07:00

- I bought a drumkit, fulfilling my desire to play every instrument in some capacity, but perhaps never truly excelling in any one. Still, I think I will have enough time on my hands to hit objects and squeeze some modicum of desire out of doing so.

- Speaking of time, I have been told that my boss would like to extend my contract until December. Possibly March. This sounds like good news but it actually horrifies me a bit. This means small town living well into winter - when the small town actually shuts down, falls asleep, and approximately 10 other people tend to it's somnambulant desires. I think, given the opportunity, that I would die.

- Future plans revolve around ridiculous travel plans, including life in Texas for the winter. Many $.89 tacos will be consumed.

- My attempts to learn French have stalled with the lack of access codes. I hope to rectify the situation and be back on my way. And then I will be smarter than the average bear.

- I bought a suit. Every man needs at least one.

- The doctor told me I am well. But I am an excellent candidate for heart disease. I don't know if this means to live it up or live it down.

- Growing up has really been squeezing my balls this year.

for Anne-Marie

2009-07-20T18:43:00.000-07:00

Eviction Party part two

I was trying really hard to get evicted from my apartment. I even tried to get run out of the city. But, like everything else in life, I was super half-assed about it.

I tried to whip together a few parties that would tear the roof off, light the couch on fire and flood the toilet. But I didn’t have enough friends to even put a dent in the drywall. And the few people I did know were far too disorganized to ever show up en masse to a house party. They only gathered in dank loft parties where they weren’t wanted. My friends were unreliable, random and monstrously lazy. So, as a big fuck you, I decided to start not inviting them to my parties. Instead I began welcoming my strangers and passers-by into my abode. And they knew how to party.

Laughing hysterically we broke windows and urinated off the balcony. We danced to shitty music cranked up to a screech. And we sang and stomped with pure nihilism firmly ensconced within our hearts. The neighbours didn’t care. They were all drinking my gin and writing their names on my fridge with Sharpie markers.

The neighbours seemed to like me. Or at least appreciated my loose booze policies. They found my sad attempts to ruin my life amusing. In broken, boozy Quebecois, they tried to teach me to drink straight vodka and how to tell a cop they looked like a slut. And they had introduced me to Indian cigarettes – rolled pieces of tar that had been illegally constructed and purchased from a reserve – and barked with laughter when I puked from the acrid smoke.

So had the landlord actually tried to kick me out they would have freaked out, alerted the local media, set fire to a few cars to block the road and declared our alley a sovereign state.

But they weren’t my friends. They called me names I didn’t understand and stole my mail. They stalked up and down the street lazily and belonged to sleazy cartels of men who played cards and owned Portuguese hookers. They only tolerated me because my failure made theirs look attractive. Montreal was simply one big failure, a cesspool of botched people and their unfulfilled dreams. And it seemed like I was stuck there forever – a never-ending parade of bad parties, shitty relationships and a whole lot of nothing to fill the void.

2009-07-10T20:28:00.000-07:00

"I doubt anyone reads this shit anymore - including me."

Ice madness

2009-05-02T07:30:00.000-07:00

Murder By Death: Killing with Kindness

2009-04-16T18:01:00.000-07:00

Murder By Death are the nicest band I ever cooked vegetarian chili for. They said please and thank you. And they used the napkins I had provided. Which was nice of them. The first and only time I met the band was when I was promoting a show for Against Me!, literally mere seconds before they exploded into a band that could pack more than a 200 capacity club and could negotiate a higher door price than $10. Murder By Death opened the show, along with Nyet to the Neins before I joined that group, and tore the roof off. Must have been all the secret spices in that chili.

Two days later I get an email from the band. Apparently Murder By Death's roadie slept with some girl and left his passport behind in her bed before slipping away to never see her again. Epic fail. So, apparently as my duty as the promoter, I had to meet with the broad - who was near tears when she gave me the passport - and then mail it to a sheepish American who was otherwise trapped in Canada.

I can assure you that I giggled ferociously.

The following interview was conducted with Adam Turla, vocalist and guitarist of Murder By Death.

What has changed for the band since the move to Vagrant Records?

It’s funny because not much has changed in a way. We have been headlining more but that was just inevitable since we had been playing so much. Right now labels are teetering on the edge and they don’t have the same impact they once did. Bands have to take things into their own hands these days.

Have your audiences been more receptive with your latest album Red of Tooth and Claw?

It’s been a good year and we’ve been busy. Our shows are packed and people are singing along, which makes me happy. It’s our fourth album and we definitely have new fans and old fans that stuck with us. Things have generally been positive and we haven’t caught too much shit for anything, which is always nice. We’ve been around long enough that inevitably you get people saying things like ‘I liked their first album more’ or whatever. But we’ve been lucky enough to have fans that genuinely support us.

Murder By Death has always maintained a dark western influence – has this been harder to do as your career progresses?

We never had that conscious idea to make that sound. But lyrically and thematically I was very careful to try to maintain a storytelling element to our songs. But I don’t I ever set out to make a ‘western’. As for the dark material that’s just what I write. For whatever reason I don’t write happy songs. But we’ve always been a band that’s done what felt the most satisfying to do. We’ve never had any motivation other than trying to write material that felt strong.

So then what influenced you that you produced this sort of sound naturally?

I am a bigger fan of books and film than I am music, given that I spend more time reading and watching movies than I spend listening to other bands. So there is a storytelling influence that comes from that, especially with my lyrics.

The death country theme has become more popular in the mainstream with movies such as No Country for Old Men and There Will Be Blood – has this translated into more popularity for this style of music and particularly for Murder By Death?

We haven’t seen a giant leap in popularity. And I always tend to do the opposite of what is popular anyway. To me it’s a signal to try something different. I don’t like oversaturation of trends. I am starting to write songs for the next record. This tour is going to be our last one for a while. I’m going to take the summer off. I plan on going into the woods with a fishing pole, a tent and a guitar and just do a bunch of writing in complete isolation.

What kind of response have you gotten from your song being in the ad for Harley Davidson motorcycles?

It actually just happened. We put something up on our site to make a joke about it. Five years ago we would have been stressed about it. Back then people would have thought of it as being a symbol of what the band was about. I remember that people would have called it a sellout to have your music backing a product. Now every indie band is becoming commercialized. But that’s just how things are now. No one is buying CDs so as a musician you can no longer afford to pay your rent that way. So something else has to take its place. And to me that could be publishing, licensing music out to commercials and films. As a band we’re poor and they offered us some money. And we also think motorcycles are cool. And our music is pretty subtle, just a background instrumental with no lyrics. We felt like it was the right choice and we didn’t need to compromise anything doing this.
In terms of fans, we had about 30 or 40 people congratulating us. And then we had one person say something like ‘that was your first stumble.’ But whatever, right? Because in six months it’s not going to matter and I will be able to eat this summer. When we aren’t on tour we’re living in the poorhouse so it was an easy decision. And it’s not going to win us any new fans because you can barely hear the song anyway.

Did you get free motorcycles?

I wish.

How does it feel to be playing your 1000th show tomorrow?

It’s interesting because our first show was mid-April, 2000 so it synced up nicely. But if someone had told me that I was still going to be in this band nine years later and still not making money I’m sure I would have gotten a real job. But I mean I have to say that I love it so much. Nothing beats being creative for a living. Getting to write these songs and create these worlds in my lyrics is so satisfying. We love going on tour and seeing in the world. When we were in school we were studying for pretty serious jobs and then the band started to get some opportunities we couldn’t pass up. It’s been so fun over the past nine years that we couldn’t stop.
But this show is going to be fun but its also going to be a little bewildering as well.

I hope there will be cake.

There is going to be some cake and balloons. And embarrassing photos.

Sketchy Bastard

2009-04-11T12:31:00.000-07:00

I have been sketching and painting a self-portrait for the past 4 or 5 days. I take a picture of myself using the Photo Booth application on my computer. Then I use the blind contour method which involves only studying the image you are sketching and not the paper you are drawing upon. Then I breathe a little life into the bastard using watercolour paints.

This one is my favourite so far. I had just woken up for my morning pee when the photo was taken.

It is a pretty good distraction, I think, from my various ailments.

I am trying to decide whether or not to grow up for a bit. There seems to be a lot more external pressure in these decisions than I had anticipated. People generally want what is best for me, albeit through their own limited experiences. I can't fault that. But the pressure has caused some stress, and leakage.

And drinking Tremblay brand beer has not been kind. I wonder if my portrait betrays my age?

Nomeansno, No Kidding.

2009-04-02T09:34:00.000-07:00

(photo taken from southern.com)

Nomeansno were one of the first punk bands I saw, ensuring that they would forever have a special place in my heart. I was 15 at the time (1995), consumed with whatever melodic-HC, pop-punk-puke that most high school punks are listening to at the time. Nomeansno, obviously, were above and beyond that. But their energy and manic live show
Later, as I attempted to play guitar and bass, my respect for the band increased. I have managed to track down most of Nomeansno's output on vinyl (get in touch if you can hook me up with a copy of "Mama" or "In The Fishtank Vol 1") as well as most Hanson Brothers LP's and 7"'s (same goes for "Sudden Death"). Both bands are legends. But more importantly, they tour often and are easy to approach and talk to.

I dare you to find another band that has survived for 25 years that can boast a similar claim.

Interview conducted April 1st, 2009, with John Wright of Nomeansno/Hanson Brothers.

Nomeansno were recently in Japan. Tell us about it. What were some of the highlights?

I got to live Monday twice. I got up at 10 AM, caught a flight in the evening and got home at Monday 10 AM again. So I stayed up until the evening.
We did five shows in eight days. We were there 12 years ago so it was exciting to go back. We had a great time and had some great shows. We are going to try and go back next April and stay for a couple of weeks.

Are you ever surprised that you still have a strong fan base in countries abroad?

It’s always surprising that year after year people still come out. For instance, in Japan we have a pretty small following with our shows drawing anywhere from 50 people to 250. But we’ve been around for such a long time you just accumulate a fan base over that time. A lot of people in Japan knew us from our Alternative Tentacles days, when we were on Jello Biafra’s label. Longevity has its benefits I suppose.

What was the reasoning behind the split Nomeansno/Hanson Brothers tour that’s coming up in Canada?

We did the live Hanson Brothers album last year. And then the year before that Nomeansno did a huge amount of touring for the album All Roads Lead to Ausfahrt – about 170 shows. We went to Europe and did some shows in the USA as well. And we decided to get some touring in Canada during April because that’s when hockey season is going strong and everyone is crazy, which is great for the Hanson Brothers. And Canada is a linear tour to do so we decided to tour as Nomeansno going east since we had some new songs we wanted to play on the road.

Obviously the music industry has changed in several drastic ways since Nomeansno began – how have you coped with these changes, especially considering that your band seems to be doing quite well?

The main thing is that no one buys CDs anymore. We come from the days when you would put out an album on vinyl, which was way before CDs. But then when CDs were the norm nothing really changed. But now with downloading and sales were almost nothing. Except we’ve always sold a ton of vinyl. But we never made our wealth and fame from record sales anyway. We relied on our live shows and touring to pay the bills and generate whatever buzz this band ever made. So nothing drastic has changed for us and we have continued doing what we have always been doing, which is writing songs and then performing them.

So what’s been happening with the new Nomeansno album?

We have a bunch of new songs, a dozen at least. We have worked hard on four of them and will probably play them this tour. In May or June we are hoping to do some recording. We are planning on releasing a bunch of 12” EPs on vinyl with four songs at a time. And then we will eventually compile this string of releases onto a full album later on. Which songs and what order they will appear in hasn’t been determined yet. We just want to make some vinyl.

What are some of the harder lessons you’ve learnt in the past 25 years?

Being a touring musician in hard on your family life. I have two great kids but this life has cost me my relationship with their mother to some degree. I think this is a fairly common thing to happen to a lot of musicians. But this has been a great thing for me to do otherwise, which is why I have stuck with it for 25 years. It’s what I enjoy. We always knew what we wanted to get out of this, which wasn’t to be rich rock stars or anything. But we carved out our own niche and did what a lot of bands wished they could have done, which was to stay independent, to gather an audience and live off music. We did it and we managed to stay somewhat sane at the same time. It’s a lot of hard work but it’s fun. Like I’ve always said: if you find a job you like you will never have to work another day in your life. But I wouldn’t change too much I think.

At this point in your life could you ever see yourself getting a real job?

I hope not. I’ve had real jobs but being a musician is a lot more fun. I guess you never know. It can all come crashing to an end. Just hopefully not with a car and a fiery death.

Archipelagos vs. Rae Spoon vs. Black Sheep Inn, Wakefield, PQ

2009-03-29T12:56:00.000-07:00

Oh no, kind words!

2009-03-27T12:08:00.000-07:00

Whoa. (Pg. 3)

Hello much needed confidence boost.

Oh Toronto!

2009-03-26T09:31:00.000-07:00

Toronto is a pretty good place to be. Except having to walk 30 blocks to find a beer store. That pretty much sucked.

Happy Anti Police Brutality Day

2009-03-15T14:53:00.000-07:00

March 15 is the The International Day Against Police Brutality.

The scene ranged from comical to abysmal within the Plateau Quarter of Montreal today, as the Montreal Police celebrated The International Day Against Police Brutality with a display of machismo that amounted to nothing more than an insecure bully flexing his muscles.

The citizens of Montreal, already cynical of a police force responsible for the death of an 18 year old man last August, were quick to criticize the actions of the authorities.

"I was at the corner of St. Denis and Roy and the cops fired two canisters of tear gas. Some anarchist crust punks were knocking over mail boxes in protest against police brutality," sniped one blogger who was a witness to the scene.

Beating their batons upon their shields, the armed riot squad – the black Cadillac of police units – advanced upon the crowd, which consisted mostly of middle-aged professionals out for an afternoon Sunday stroll. The well-to do audience remained relatively nonplussed toward the cops and their over-dramatics. Many people, including those clutching children, simply stood their ground. They had no reason to fear the police, since their only 'crime' had been gathering to watch the ironic, and sadly humorous, display.

"The King Is Dead"

2009-03-09T18:15:00.000-07:00

Rocked with Archipelagos last night at Divan Orange. I think it went really well and I was impressively hung over this morning.

* * * * *

Montreal musicians suffer from what is essentially a 'musicians' tax' on top of cab fare. Bands not savvy enough to afford a van are forced to use taxi vans that charge an extra $10 for the crime of hauling guitars, amps and drums. In lieu of spending the paltry money made at shows, it is not uncommon to see scruffy, unshaven indie kids hauling gear up and down St. Laurent - an uncomfortable exercise in thrift.

Or, alternatively, In Bed With Slow Down Molasses

2009-03-04T14:24:00.000-08:00

Life With Slow Down Molasses

Slow Down Molasses, like everything else that happens in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, was a mistake that was bound to happen. But, like any hot one-night stand, mistakes are always better when you play along with them like it was meant to be. Especially when it’s clear that they are anything but.

The best, and worst, thing about life in a small town is that everything is painfully circular. Gossip grows in the walls like mold and everybody has already fucked everyone else by the time you get there – something especially true in musicians' circles. So it was only a matter of time before a random group of sluts, freaks and transients got together to make some noise.

So, when I first stood in Tyson McShane's basement, bass firmly in my sticky hands, head buzzing from the inevitable hangover of the night previous, I faked both a smile and a compliment. It was like going to bed with a hot blonde and waking up with both a headache and a brain full of fuzz. "We can make this work," I mouthed. I was probably just bored and already predisposed towards drama, so I didn't care either way.

But the funny and horrible thing about relationships is that sometimes they work, even when they shouldn't.

Slow Down Molasses overcame the awkwardness of seeing each other naked and settled nicely into a honeymoon phase. Life was sweet. We played packed shows and released a heart-breaker of an album, I’m An Old Believer. Then we got drunk, kicked holes in the walls backstage and drove away in a van with sweet tinted windows. We went on roadtrips and photographed the carnage that invariable ensued. And when we got home we began plotting ways to do it all over again.

But the funny and horrible thing about relationships is that sometimes they end abruptly, even when things are going fine.

I left the band – pulled out, bought a one-way plane ticket and took off before the condom had time to cool. Sure, it was a bastard move, but so was getting involved in the first place. And I don’t regret it, even while listening to the album and smiling at the memories, both sweet and sad.

Sometimes you need to cut yourself off cold turkey in order to remember how truly amazing the experience was to begin with. Sometimes you have to watch a relationship unfold as a jealous observer to appreciate how brilliant of a mistake it was.

And, especially when you’re not getting any, remembering how whip-ass the sex was helps get you motivated – and drunk – for the next funny and horrible mistake.

short story silliness and saline solutions

2009-02-27T18:25:00.000-08:00

(Titles Are Hard)

The emails started flooding in mid-afternoon: Apparently I had died.

I wrote back to every single one of my friends and ill-wishers. I’m feeling fine, I protested. Most of them disagreed. No, you’re dead they insisted.

At least they weren’t happy about it.

By the way, I had to buy a new suit for your funeral, complained one friend. I couldn’t even get a seat sale, bitched another.

I spent the rest of the day arguing and offering half-hearted conciliations. Sorry but I’m not dead.

Yes you are they insisted. Just to prove me wrong, one of my more ambitious comrades scanned the newspaper he read the article in. See, see, he gloated, you died. I scrutinized the jpg suspiciously. It did seem that I was now dead.

Oh no, I mourned. Oh no.

I had just paid the month’s rent.

I had been struck by the callousness of my so-called friends. None of them seemed saddened beyond superficiality. Most actually seemed irked that I might still be clinging to life.

They’re just jealous, I thought as I reread the article.

Apparently my death had been awesome.

To be continued...

"Dedicated to the girl with the shark in her bed..."

2009-02-25T18:33:00.001-08:00

In addition to being a reporter, his restaurant makes really good veggie burgers and poutine

2009-02-24T18:17:00.000-08:00

"The Adventures of Tintin (French: Les Aventures de Tintin) is a series of comic strips created by Belgian artist Hergé, the pen name of Georges Remi (1907–1983). The series first appeared in French in a children's supplement to the Belgian newspaper Le Vingtième Siècle on 10 January 1929. Set in a painstakingly researched world closely mirroring our own, the series has continued as a favourite of readers and critics alike for 80 years.

The hero of the series is Tintin, a young Belgian reporter. He is aided in his adventures from the beginning by his faithful fox terrier dog Snowy (Milou in French). Later, popular additions to the cast included the brash, cynical and grumpy Captain Haddock, the bright but hearing-impaired Professor Calculus (Professeur Tournesol) and other colourful supporting characters such as the incompetent detectives Thomson and Thompson (Dupond et Dupont). Hergé himself features in every comic, as a background character.

The success of the series saw the serialised strips collected into a series of albums (24 in all), spun into a successful magazine and adapted for film and theatre. The series is one of the most popular European comics of the 20th century, with translations published in over 50 languages and more than 200 million copies of the books sold to date.[1]

The comic strip series has long been admired for its clean, expressive drawings in Hergé's signature ligne claire style. Engaging, well-researched plots straddle a variety of genres: swashbuckling adventures with elements of fantasy, mysteries, political thrillers, and science fiction. The stories within the Tintin series always feature slapstick humour, offset in later albums by sophisticated satire, and political and cultural commentary."

Read more here.

Hawaiian market

2009-02-23T18:10:00.000-08:00

I am feeling like total shit right now. And am missing somewhere warm. I'll post something more meaningful tomorrow.

Eat your shit

2009-02-22T13:33:00.000-08:00

Once a day I come up with some cockamamie idea. Usually they aren't all that bright - often they are downright forgettable.

A few years ago I decided to try and eat better. Simple enough, except I'd have to learn how to cook better (having someone cute around to sample my culinary endeavours helped immensely). Since then my cooking has improved drastically. Then I had the idea to make a cookbook.

I love cookbooks. But rarely do I ever actually follow a recipe. Instead I find lists of ingredients weirdly inspiring yet competitive: I can make this better, I think. And since I cook at least two meals a day and there is truly a glut of crappy cookbooks out there, I figure I can get it together to start writing this stuff down. We'll see.

Of course, given my penchant for bad ideas and never following tested advice, some of these recipes are really going to be terrible.

ps - In case you were wondering, the above photo features a spicy Asian noodle salad that totally did not suck.

Luke Doucet: There Will Be Blood

2009-02-20T11:27:00.000-08:00

Luke Doucet isn’t a douche. Despite making music that would rarely make my playlists, his approach is laudable and mannerisms make him a perennial crowd-pleaser. The Toronto-based modern bluesman is very much a rock everyman and Doucet has a refreshingly grounded – and articulate – view on the current state of rock music. And he’s not afraid to throw a few punches at the proverbial, bespectacled indie douches either. Furthermore, he is a whiz with words as indicated by his unfortunately neglected blog. And he wears tight pants like an angel-faced motherfucker.

The following is an interview conducted by me.

You mentioned you were leaving to Nashville right away. What are you intending to accomplish there?

Nothing more than playing a few gigs. I used to live there so I have some fans there and people who will come out to see me play. The Folk Alliance conference is happening in Memphis but what is more exciting for me is the workshop performance with James Burton, who played guitar with Elvis Presley during the ‘60’s, and Albert Lee who has played with everyone and is probably the most famous country music guitarist ever in history. And I get to play with these guys, which is terrifying and fantastic.

So the pressure is on now?

Yeah. I am a big fan of both of those guys. And I’m a songwriter and a musician who makes albums, which is the most important thing in the world to me. But my hobby is playing the guitar. Most people have jobs whether they are lawyers, teachers or journalists and then they have their hobbies, which may be paintball or reading novels. So my hobby is to play guitar, which fortunately factors into my professional life. Which is convenient.
But these guys are legends and beautiful players and I have nothing but respect for what they have accomplished. And I am humbled and flattered to even be able to hang out with them. I am definitely overwhelmed by it.

How do you keep your career and life balanced as an indie-musician while moonlighting as a backing musician to acts such as Sarah McLachlan – a decidedly mainstream singer?

Well, just the fact that it does provide balance. If I need to spend ten months a year touring and supporting my own albums and I won’t have time to play with Sarah or Jim Cuddy [of Blue Rodeo], then I would be perfectly happy just playing my own music. I spend a lot of time on the road but in order to make a living playing music I realize I can’t take it for granted. I don’t think suddenly that I am going to rest on my laurels and take it easy. I think it’s way too difficult to be an artist. I know far too many talented people working at a Starbucks because they aren’t lucky or they didn’t work hard enough. I don’t know. So every time I have a chance to play music I take it. If that means I have to work 350 days a year, which isn’t far from the truth, then I’ll do it. I would rather be exhausted from working too much being depressed from not having any work at all.

Is there anyone that if you had a chance to play with you would put all your other projects on hold for?

That hasn’t happened yet. There was a Sarah McLachlan tour a couple of years ago where I had to make an all-or-nothing decision on. She was going out for 18 months and asked if I wanted to tour with her and I didn’t really want to put my own career on hold for that long. But every time she had a day off I would use that time to play my own show, so I took advantage of the situation. It was intense but totally worth it. But If Elvis Costello called and asked if I would be his guitar player I would drop everything. The list goes on but I have constantly had to rate my values and priorities to keep my career clear. But, you know, if Tom Waits called I would do absolutely anything to play with him, even if I had to cook him dinner.

You recently wrote on your blog that “coming off tour is like coming off drugs.” So with this upcoming tour are you looking forward to getting back on drugs?

I am a little apprehensive since I haven’t been on tour with my band with since mid-December. But to further the drug analogy once you’ve kicked something that’s not good for you, you forget how much fun it is and why you got addicted in the first place. I have a certain amount of trepidation now. I have dreams where I can’t play and I forget my songs and my guitar doesn’t have any strings on it. Lots of anxiety-type stuff. I have those about touring because it’s been awhile since I’ve been out. But once I do get back out there and get a couple of gigs under my belt I’ll feel way more comfortable. And I could be on the road forever. My wife plays in my band and that makes it a lot easier spending my life away because she will be with me.

So is there a certain label that you feel is more appropriate to describe your career?

I am aware of the various hats that I wear, like where I am a producer or a songwriter or a singer or whatever. I remember being a kid and being hired to play for blues guys or whatever, and I would just be the guy in the corner playing a guitar. And it was fun and stress-free. You don’t have to be a clown or juggle kittens or anything, you just have to stand there and play. That might be partly why I am lured into hired gun work. I get a certain solace in it. There is a divide between indie rock culture and aesthetics and being a journeyman session player. I find that the indie community looks down on that sort of working ethic with music, as if its not creative or artistic enough. I think that’s a crock of shit. If someone can show up and make your music sound beautiful or tough or mean or whatever then that’s incredible. It’s something I do try and juggle and I don’t think I will ever abandon either one.

On your latest album, Blood’s Too Rich, I noticed that the music tackles a very tried and true genre of blues riffs and themes. So what do you offer that’s new to the genre?

It’s hard. And I’ve accepted the fact that I am reaching for my Tom Petty records more than my Modest Mouse records these days. So how do you put a new twist on a classic rock sound? I think one has to be careful – whether it’s you or me – with what kind of expectations we have on pushing a genre. If you look at the artists who will be remembered they take something that came before them, they do it the best they can, and inadvertently they create something new. And if they’re lucky they take one small but meaningful step ahead of where they started. The Who started as an R and B band. The Stones were a blues band and they took it one step further. Same with Led Zeppelin. I think we have this idea that we have to reinvent the wheel to be legitimized as artists and I also think that’s near-sighted. To take what’s come before and do it well and put your own personality into it can be a very fun and refreshing thing. Thematically, my song “Long Haul Driver” is a take on a very beaten theme. But there are a couple of twists in there. As a musician, I think we fear the working classes although most musicians are poor people. But we fear a normal life because we’re artists and we’re supposed to lead exciting and exceptional lives. But I also think we’re terrified of truck drivers. You go out on the road in your beat up van and you’re driving on a highway and when you picture yourself dying its because you got into a head-on collision with a semi truck. And what I’ve realized is that we do the same job. I’ve put on thousands and thousands of miles on the road. And those are the kind of numbers that professional truck drivers log.
But it does come from a very classic place. But my approach is instead of reinventing the wheel you let history take precedence. And you take that trajectory and you ride it. And when you think its about to stop then you take the leap to see how far you can go. And that distance is what you’ve accomplished as an artist. And I’m okay with that.
So I’m doing the same old shit that our parents were doing in the ‘60’s. Why? And how do I stay unique in that framework? I have people coming up to me at shows, and not just kids who have only listened to indie or hip-hop, but people of all sorts and they ask me what do I call what I do. Which is interesting. Some people can listen to a song and hear elements of blues and country in it. But others scratch their heads and have no idea what to call it. And I think what the fuck. The classic definition of rock and roll music is country meeting the blues. I don’t think capital R modern corporate rock has anything to do with country or blues these days. But the classic definition is the marriage of those two sounds and I like that. I want to keep doing that and keep it alive. Rock without the roll isn’t sexy and I think it should be. To be fair things have to move. And it may be baby steps but it’s steps forward.

A hard-on for breakfast, rare stoner rock LPs

2009-02-19T06:58:00.000-08:00

Maple walnut pancakes - another recipe literally pulled out of the ass early in the morning (but far more delicious than you would believe).

Fu Manchu - (Godzilla's) Eatin' Dust,
Nebula - Let It Burn,
Desert Sessions vol III and IV, blue vinyl,
Desert Sessions vol V and VI, blue vinyl,
The result of an exhausting three hour shopping spree with Garett.

Boulangerie vs. Patisserie

2009-02-18T05:33:00.000-08:00

A good city should present itself like a coy, lip-wetting fling - the kind of one-night tempest that gets slightly easier to handle each night you get stay. A good city should also taste specific, a certain order of palette arrangements tailored to suit the needs of those who indulge. It should keep you simultaneously confused and comforted.

A good city should pack a ridiculous punch, a roundhouse that literally takes you around the block.

This is Montreal, an urban gumbo of poor manners, questionable taste and finely-tuned nuances. I am deeply enamoured, but also indebted, exhausted and depressed.

A person in as much love as he could be, in short.

Our apartment is located literally in the left ventricle of Mile End, a neighbourhood that beats to a crooked rhythm. Outside our window, an awesome fenetre of people-watching power, the unemployed amble busily about their business. The mailman likes to peer inside, and I like him to do this - although I am unsure of his reward to our reciprocal, symbiotic relationship. Perhaps watching a dynamically lazy young man, hungry for mail is specifically how he gets his kicks?

* * * * *

I have decided to blog more often. This is always harder than it sounds. And I am a busy man for someone who rarely has anywhere to be at any specific time.

> My band Archipelagos - like so many ham-fisted power chords - is chugging along nicely. In fact, we have many, many shows coming up - many of which I just found out about on a routine visit our myspace page. It's nice to have boyfriends.

> I am attempting to find new outlets for writing, which is also harder than it sounds. But for now I am happy with what I have. I am attempting to contact Mike Palm of OG-OC hardcore legends Agent Orange for an interview, as well as the angel-faced Luke Doucet. Stay tuned.

> Garett Krueger of The Famines is here. Today we will shop for records and eat at Tintin-themed restaurants. Sounds like a good day.

Empowered - Redux

2009-02-10T19:13:00.000-08:00

Empowered

2009-02-09T18:50:00.000-08:00

Sophie and I, having eclipsed the honeymoon phase of our relationship, are in desperate need of a boost to our waning sex life.

I insist that I still find her as attractive as ever – and I am fairly certain I mean that. But when we try to get down to business my mind irritatingly veers to matters unrelated.

Sophie blames her own slowing-sex drive on her tendency to fall asleep at the wheel. Unfortunately, since she already works two jobs with the possibility of a third on the way, our intimate time together seems limited to slumber – a nightmarish scenario, I am quick to point out.

We can’t seem to find a common solution to our problem. I read an implausible amount of books on how to properly eat a cunt whereas Sophie discretely devours pamphlets on erectile dysfunction.

Worse, we have differing ideas on what constitutes as a problem. Sophie nonchalantly insists this is just a passing phase, a burp in an otherwise easily digestible relationship. I, however, am literally tearing out my hair.

I eventually convince Sophie to do something to perk up our sexy problems. After much talk, and a few tears, she suggests a trip to a classy adults-only store to acquire some marital aids.

“Aids?” I quip. “That’s not really funny, my dear.” Sophie seems to agree – she isn’t laughing.

We boldly make a date to go across town to go sex toy shopping, despite my amaxophobia – fear of being in a car – and her chemophobia – fear of things made out of chemicals.

At first I am thrilled. I even dress myself up a little, enacting hump-faces I expect to be making soon. However the faux dick-store, billed as “femme-friendly”, sucks. Faced with a veritable emporium of dildos and other vag-friendly products, my libido immediately begins to turtle.

Sophie immediately starts picking up boxes at random, checking the ingredient list of dongs and if the vibrating rings are BSA-free. Her bizarre concern over the items is a strong hint that she has little desire for the intended effect.

I get down to work exercising my fetish for bargains, pawing through the discount bins and lingering over marked down items – an act that elicits a sharp glare from my already-agitated girlfriend.

In a mere few minutes, buying a sex toy is clearly out of the question. My rants on the quantity and quality of options for men has more than extinguished Sophie’s desire to shop. I maintain that I am open to trying, but – in typical childish manner – insist that we can only get her something only if I can get one too.

My fingers feel appallingly sticky from fingering some of the packaging. And the thought of the more ostentatious products leaves me feeling nauseous. We leave feeling defeated yet relieved.

We can, however, at least agree that the experience left us feeling anything but empowered – the length of my dick fiercely confirms this fact.

Vive!

2009-02-05T18:41:00.000-08:00

Things are seemingly falling into place, albeit slowly and lazily - the way I like.

My Montreal home has become more and more satisfying and cozy - ready for guests should they show up.

I have officially joined a new band, called Archipelagos. They are good. And fun as well. And we practice literally a block away from my house. Also, we are planning many shows and a mini-tour that will take us to Toronto and Ottawa. I may also be a part of a backing band for Rae Spoon, mandolin-style.

http://www.myspace.com/archipelagosmusic

Lots of good shows are coming up, such as Witch, Hanson Brothers, Trail of Dead and Acid Mothers Temple.

My record collection, most of which resides in Saskatoon, is growing here as well. This makes me very happy.

I am quite taken with my surroundings.

Taken from http://neufutur.com/

2009-01-27T15:43:00.001-08:00

OHNO!THEROBOT #10
Posted by anfnewsacct on January 13th, 2009 No Comments Printer-Friendly

Another zine randomly received somehow, OHNO!THEROBOT is the brainchild of Chrix Morix. This Canadian showcases the fact that, beyond the kilometer/mile difference, that there is little distinguishing Americans from Canadians. This zine showcases Chris’ life, without assuming that an individual has had any familiarity with OHNO!THEROBOT before receiving this issue. Hitchhiking, moustaches, and relationships are what Chris focuses on most heavily during this issue. Despite the fact that the issue is only 16 pages, Chris places more than enough in the way of narrative and storylines in this issue, ensuring that one spends a decent amount of time going through OHNO!THEROBOT.

Of particular note during this issue has to be “The Uneasiness Following Debauchery”, which shows Chrix’ love of a good hangover. I’ve personally not met anyone that seems to relish the hangover (and what follows) like Chrix, but the logic and reasoning makes sense and the use of narrative provides more than enough justification for his belief. The few illustrations that are present during this issue are simple but seem to match up with the stories well; I’d personally like to see an issue of OHNO!THEROBOT done in pure comic book style, if Chrix could be the individual behind writing the stories. Check out this zine if you like personal narratives and stories that span not only the U.S.-Canada border, but through all of human experience.
Rating: 8.4/10

OHNO!THEROBOT #10 / $2 / 16M / :15 / ohnotherobot@hotmail.com /

Dingle and Sated

2009-01-20T19:15:00.001-08:00

Slow Down, Molasses - Dec 23rd, 2008
Originally uploaded by theghostsinbedsheets

I’m single, and dating again. And I just got back from a very pleasant, and promising, date.

Two days before I unceremoniously left Saskatoon, I played what was likely to be my final show with Slow Down Molasses. So far this has been true. I arrived in Montreal alone and looking. Tonight I met up with some fine young gentlemen for drinks, small talk and the possibility of playing bass for them. We all seemed quite compatible with one another. The conversation flowed easily. And we left with the promise of “seeing where things go from here.”

Slick.

I hope they don’t read this, in case they didn’t think of it as a “date.”

Things That Are Hard

2009-01-16T07:55:00.001-08:00

Life, supposedly, is better when it is harder. But, like getting free money with no apparent strings attached, it is one of those things that happens.

The move to Montreal has been fraught with peril, cleanliness, confusion, animosity and tenderness.

I find myself battling with sudden onslaughts of depression and migraines when faced with towering stacks of crap in the Dollar Store. These are things I need – toilet plungers, forks, dishtowels and pasta sauce – but everything about the scenario is daunting, humiliating and guilt inducing.

But then I get to giggle at a gaggle of assorted characters who have entered my life: Riding the bus with totally hot moms who are completely fucked in the head, ultra-fashionable French men who, by some fluke miracle, have designed all their own clothes with varying results and the snotty indie-rock boy who I am certain I will get in a fistfight with some day.

If it is true that life is better when it is harder then savour every moment of sweat.

* * * * *

The job interview with Fox went appropriately, if not a little stiffly – which may or may not have been my fault. Perhaps I assumed incorrectly that life in an office building owned by the most obnoxious media presence would be all fun, games and partial nudity. It was not.

I forgot to mention. I applied for a job as a writer/editor for a men’s website, which is owned by Fox Media.

It is impossible to say if I did well enough to warrant a second interview. And I can’t decide whether if I fail – failure in this case being not getting a job (which I have never considered “failure” in the past) – if I should care.

I have spent the majority of my adult life avoiding adult situations that require pants. This includes shopping for napkins, attending meetings, working for the weekend and jobs that didn’t have a clear exit strategy.

Now I am faced with the prospect of all of those things.

I feel obliged to take off my pants now.

Or, perhaps I should “suck it up” – another very adult situation in both senses of the term – and try. Which is certainly going to be harder if nothing else.

Giggling girlish guffaws

2009-01-01T08:47:00.000-08:00

Etiquette Impaired

I never know how I’m supposed to react when I am getting punched in the face. I mean, it doesn’t really hurt, at least right away. It’s more of a shock, like the first shot of absinthe or the moment you realize you accidentally ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. In fact, I’m always surprised whenever someone hits me – which is funny because I’m usually asking for it.

I’m not a vengeful person. And I don’t get really angry – I get far too self-conscious. So, unsure of the proper etiquette for being punched in the face, I started to laugh.

This was the worst thing I could have done.

I didn’t think my attacker was a vengeful person either. But he was, apparently, vindictive, malicious and unforgiving. And I was laughing at him.

He stood in front of me, mouth agape, confusion boiling his brain as he fathomed why I, with my fat, wobbly lip, could be laughing at him. But I wasn’t laughing at him. It was simply a funny thing. Punching someone seemed so archaic and cute and endearing. I began to snort. His face started to turn crimson. The situation suddenly became really awkward – I had to say something.

“Wow, that was really something, hey?” I chided.

If this had been our first date then I was totally blowing it. And I had ruined my share of dates. This was on par with taking someone out for supper just to tell them how fat they were getting – another incident that ended with me taking a fist to the kisser.

I started to giggle. The giggle became a titter. And the titter threatened to explode into a guffaw. Trying to hold in a massive and dangerous amount of laughter, I started choking.

“Hey,” said my attacker, gripping me with hands the size of pie-plates. I noticed his arms were covered with muscles and tattoos that I had first thought were blotchy bruises. His body was shaped like a tallboy beer can. And his neck was thicker than an SUV’s spare tire. This dude was fucking ripped.

Shit, I thought.

“Hey,” he said again, while shaking me. I flinched, waiting for the next punch. I promised myself to go down this time, to roll around on the ground and moan and do everything expected of a properly behaving beating victim. I shut my eyes, still spitting and sputtering on my dying laughter.

“Hey,” he repeated once more. “Are you okay?”

Chris punches new city in face

2008-12-28T18:31:00.000-08:00

Really ‘Treal?

I fell down a flight of stairs, again – a weird anti-Christmas present to myself.

I’ve fallen down some very significant staircases before – I’ve broken toes, ripped pants and hurt feelings on 30+ steps. But this was a little different. I was in Montreal and, weathering an ice shard storm, was in no position to complain. I didn’t even know how. What were the proper curse words and exfoliations for my various injuries en français? And did one purchase an umbrella or steal a piece of sheet metal to fend off a dragon of a season?

Suddenly I felt as though I were in the middle of a colossal mistake, the punch line being the price of a ticket back out West.

Even worse, laughter sounds far more like a slap in the face when guffawed from a Quebecois muzzle. I am convinced that the Quiet Revolution, historically and presently, was and is anything but.

However everyone, regardless of tongue-preference, had a flight of stairs to brave in the midst of a blustery winter storm. Now I could cross of my list what it was like to be both French and geriatric, fearing architecture and climate, trepidatious of age and brittle-bone breakage. And I could laugh too, but mostly only to myself. The stairs were doing far too good of a job of beating me up to invite anyone else to that party.

And apartment hunting meant another flight of stairs to ice skate up. Mont-Royal, standing tall like a firm-titted mammary, served as the perfect landmark and distraction. Slipping, imagining the quick-egress of teeth eroded upon impact, I gritted my way to the top of another closet-sized kitchen and mildewed bathtub. Smothering disappointment with the fakest of smiles, I am reminded that the price of life – measured per month – is a mere fraction of what it could be. Rent is cheaper than insults and most, thankfully, preferred to stay inside.

I got drunk and stamped through the streets, happy. I found an apartment with a built in shelf for my records and an opener for my beer. I laughed and kicked garbage until it decomposed and disappeared. For a moment I felt like an English Conquistador. Until, climbing another staircase, I fell off my high horse, hard.

Je suis un idiot. Un gros, grand idiot.

I feel like Don Ho

2008-11-26T21:26:00.000-08:00

1:13pm, HST Tuesday, November 25th, Somewhere over the Pacific

Having watched the first five minutes of Mamma-Mia, I have concluded that I am about to miss the worst movie I will never watch.

The only frill of this flight so far was when the 50-something year old steward told a 13 year old girl that he “was going to beat (her) to death.”

* * * * *

8:21am, HST Wednesday, November 26th, Honolulu-Waikiki, Sand Villa Hotel

What little I have seen of Hawaii is vaguely reminiscent of Mexico: the sleaze blistering beneath the paint, the confused pale faces mixing with the cruel local ones and the ubiquitous corner stores stocked with ominously cheap booze.

The time change, four hours to the left, has completely fucked me over. I feel dead tired at 8am, despite it being noon at home.

I would like a stiff cup of coffee to walk into the room right now, slap me on the face and turn tail while my friends all laugh at me.

Machiavellian petit dejuener

2008-11-18T07:57:00.001-08:00

Toasted

Every morning over breakfast, I examined myself in the reflection of the toaster. I didn’t have another mirror in my house, the one in the bathroom falling victim to a drunken toothbrushing incident. So I was forced to preen over an appliance.

My girlfriend, who rarely came to visit, hated it. She would start yelling at me as I groomed myself in the wavy, imperfect likeness.

“What the hell are you doing?” she stamped.

“Getting ready for our date?” I asked.

“That’s ridiculous. Why can’t you just buy a mirror?”

I shrugged. I could barely afford to date, let alone throw money around on luxury items like a mirror. Especially when I had a perfectly good toaster at my disposal. A thought suddenly occurred – if I did get a mirror maybe I could attract a better partner.

“Well, we’re late for supper. Can you at least make me some toast?”

“It’s not that kind of toaster,” I admitted.

But it still worked, sort of. In addition to it’s reflecting duties, the toaster also doubled as a filing cabinet. Since it neglected to brown my bread due to electrical failure, I began keeping my pencils, rulers and notes inside. It amused most of my visitors to watch me use a Sharpie, replace it and then press down the lever, causing the contents to be lowered neatly inside.

But my date was not easily amused. Nor was she impressed, snowed or tickled.

“Are you trying to get me to buy you a new toaster?” she asked.

“Are you trying to change me?” I retorted.

I liked my toaster filing cabinet. But while I claimed to be attached to its aesthetic, I secretly hated throwing things away. Hidden in my closets was a dumpster's horde of treasures. Included in my collection was a phone that wouldn’t dial but made a decent garlic press, an overheating alarm clock that kept my tea warm and pens that lacked ink but, if prompted, could give an effective stabbing.

Fortunately for my girlfriend there were no pens close by – they were all safely tucked away in the toaster.

“Just throw that fucking thing away,” she finally threatened.

“Who, Andy?” I asked, motioning towards my treasured toaster. “He’s family.” I picked up my beloved appliance and kissed it viciously, on the mouth.

“Whoa,” she said, finally stunned. “That was so gay.” My date turned to leave.

“Wait,” I yelled after her. “Andy can be a girl’s name too!”

Weeding out the Soundgarden

2008-11-15T16:28:00.001-08:00

4:00pm, Saturday November 15th, Dupuis Residence, Saskatoon

Last night’s Chris Cornell concert in Saskatoon could best be described by one word: “dumbfounded.”

The audience, already well-lubed by alcohol, long line-ups and the typical sparse service from the Odeon, stared, mouths agape, as Mr. Cornell launched into the first song of his latest Timbaland-produced album. The collective reaction became even more hilarious as the ex-Soundgarden siren launched into his new lyrics, “That bitch ain’t a part of me, that bitch ain’t a part of me.”

One almost felt sorry for the leather-clad metalheads in attendance.

For most of the show, the audience watched impassively, puzzled at the glaring board of lights that backed Cornell’s band – which included two guitarists, neither of whom could be heard above the din of bored chit-chat and what could easily be perceived as pure apathy towards Cornell’s lazy performance.

Some of the more hussied out members of the audiences still attempted to get their $50 worth by grinding the air – they should have saved their money, went to Ryly’s and humped something a little more substantial (albeit more disease-ridden) than the bland jock-rock of last night.

Mr. Cornell, clad in a long leather jacket and a mischievously short shirt that kept his midriff winking at the crowd, clearly sucks.

Home, horny, hapless

2008-11-10T14:46:00.000-08:00

4:36pm, Monday November 10th, Dupuis Residence, Saskatoon

Tour is done and over, ending in-between a bang and a whimper. Lets go with a dull roar. Edmonton was fine times, sketchy times and high ones as well. Never stay in a house where the owners do not own any water glasses.

I am home now, but not really. I still don’t have a home of my own, so I guess therefore still homeless. And staying in your partner’s mother’s home is likely less desirable than living in a tent in a park or even the backseat of a car. There’s just something so emasculating about waiting for mom to leave to work before getting down to some sexy business. Business well taken care of, might I add.

Last night I did a quick poetry reading at Flint. It went well, I think, despite my not really being much of a poet. But everyone laughed when I told my stories about having parties to get evicted to and handshakes to have sex with. I should do another one sometime.

I shaved my moustache off. It was like having a doggie bag on my upper lip and I was getting tired of leftovers.

Fail (insert failure type here)

2008-11-08T19:45:00.001-08:00

6:59pm, Saturday November 8th, The Hydeaway, Edmonton

Forgot to write my diary yesterday. It was probably due to the fact that fearing for my life has become, quite frankly, a reoccurring thing.

Kelowna was amazing. We played one of my favourite shows ever – perhaps partly due to the fact that I was finally given some room to do setlists and talk in-between songs. Our audience was engaged and loved it. Bend Sinister, the punk rock equivalent of Elton John – a cake with far too much frosting, also impressed.

The venue had boxes of cereal behind the bar. Patty, Tyson and I drunkenly, hilariously, ate bowls of Cheerios with soymilk. My body thanks me.

We made friends with some locals. This is where the adventure gets weird.

We were taken to a flophouse, a 15+ room house where the doors have locks on the outside. Immediately we start up a dance party with all our new friends. A resident of the house, The Bates Hotel (no shit), has a problem with us. He has to work at 7am the next morning. Our friend who invited us told him that we were partying. She also told me that it was an eviction party, due to the fact she had “moved out a week ago.” Awesome. Lots of drunken craziness, a creepy guy hitting on everything that moved (he wanted someone to fuck him while his girlfriend watched, apparently), and a bottle of Jamesons.

The next morning the roommate who had to work turned on Limp Bizkit, as loud the stereo could go. We started dancing. I looked for more beer.

He started yelling, really screaming, at his evicted roommate. I gathered everyone up. “We have to get the fuck out. Now. Right now.”

Then we made it to Canmore.

A small town nestled in the Albertan Rockies, Canmore is the equivalent of a shitty dysfunctional family, very much concerned with keeping up appearances but also getting drunk a lot and not giving a shit. Also, the son is a raging alcoholic, addicted to every drug and loving porn when he can’t convince a girl to come home with him.

Our set was received poorly by most. Except for the girl who set fire to our setlist at the end of the night and waved it around her head.

Introducing herself as “Tes with one S,” she sort of blew our minds. She also showed Kristine her boob. The next morning she was drinking Jag Bombs for breakfast. My favourite thing she said:

“I dated a guy named Rich. He wouldn’t stop peeing on my TV.”

Oh shit.

Got to see the lovely Darren Fucking Miller again. Now we are in Edmonton, in the venue where I stayed for my 27th birthday.

The pizzeria down the street that deals drugs is still open, thankfully.

Last night I passed out holding a beer. I suddenly woke up as it splashed all over my chest, neck and face. Beer fail.

Also, this.

http://failblog.org/

Bathing in brine, badly

2008-11-06T20:01:00.000-08:00

8:08pm, Thursday November 6th, The Habitat, Kelowna

Yesterday in Vancouver I found a whip-ass leather jacket. Even though I had reservations about it – feeling a tad too old to own such a thing – it is also the first time in my adult life I have been able to purchase such a thing.

It came down to this:

I decided to start living like I may die at anytime. Which means ridiculous purchases are more frequent – because I could die in a fiery/icy van crash any day. This is especially true, as of late, since we happen to be driving through mountain passes that are afflicted by blizzards.

We couldn’t see 10 feet ahead of us. A car lay upside down on the side of the road, maybe near a sheer cliff drop. The van veered, careened.

But we made it. No cock and ball stories here, but thank you Penthouse Forum for lightening an otherwise fatally grey mood.

Vancouver was awesome and rainy. Lots of smiles and amazing food.

I showered for the first time in a week. It was like god himself was bathing me in his smiling visage. The satanic stenches have been purged. Hallelujah.

Tonight: Kelowna, celebrating life, free vegetarian chili and a rock show. Shalom.

Tell me now are we fucking up again?

2008-11-06T03:28:00.001-08:00

10:23pm, Wednesday November 5th, The Railway Club, Vancouver

Victoria is a fucked-up fantasyland where people go to slip into insanity. Or at least complacency. The food is good but the prospects are an overcast drizzle. That said a lot of very good people go there to fuck up for awhile. And it’s not the worst place for that by far.

Lucky Bar was good, small and courteous. I dislike immensely playing on tall stages, feelings of vertigo notwithstanding. I also drank in a soap shop – a first.

I got really drunk, again. I haven’t had a truly sober night yet. My body is in revolt. It wants rest and showers. I give it beer, naanwiches and sweat. And sharpie markers.

We invented a touring game. One person writes a word on someone’s knuckles and then another person, who doesn’t see the first word, writes on the second set of knuckles. The results are dizzying, electrifying.

Obama won. History has been declared. But what I like best is that he has already predicted that he will fuck up. I can trust that in a leader of men.

I miss masturbating. And someone waiting for me at home.

A history we can touch, taste

2008-11-04T12:18:00.000-08:00

1:02pm, Tuesday November 4th, Solstice Café, Victoria

Quite hungover, fighting to keep the delicious meal I just bought, listening to Obama rhetoric. The heady thrill of a political worldwide victory combined with shots of Jag and beer is nearly overwhelming. My stomach butterflies are drunken revelers, reveling in the promise of change. Change I can believe in would be some Advil right about now.

The Duncan show was great. The five people who attended loved every minute of it. Which is sometimes better than 100 being mish-pish. Dumb Angel was amazing, engaging and endearing. I almost don’t ever want to see them again – why ruin a good experience with tainted memories? Played sober – a first time for anything, really. Change I can hardly believe in.

Our only day off yesterday. Hung out with the amazing Chris Reimer, saw the sights of Vic, bought new tight jeans. Change of clothes I can believe in.

I sang “Private Dancer” by Tina Turner for karaoke last night. The DJ was so impressed he bought me a shot.

I think I barfed on the back bumper of the van last night. Sorry Tyson, Patty, Ryan, Shaun, Melissa, Jeanette, Kristine.

Sabrina is meeting me in a few minutes. The tofu sandwich was delicious and cheap – the change in my pocket I believe in.

Like sharks, not sheep

2008-11-02T20:08:00.001-08:00

8:55pm, Sunday, November 2nd, Duncan @ the Duncan Garage

Just finished soundchecking in the most charming venue I have ever been in, let alone played. It is a fantastic old converted garage with soft theatre seating, 100 year old hardwood floors and antiques galore. Downstairs a vegetarian café serves mushroom and brie tarts and coffee that bullies you and does not let up.

Last night’s show was also great. Lots of gin and tonic, rainy walks and sailor talk.
Notable people in the audience included James Reimer, Shena Mint, Jon Vilness, Evan American Geography and Bryn from high school.

Restless nights – I apparently slept-walked last night. At one point I apparently decided to sleep on the floor of a different room before moving back to my couch. A touch alarming, to say the least.

I wonder if I could swim asleep.

Slow Down, tour

2008-11-01T20:49:00.000-07:00

8:37pm, Saturday, November 1st, Vancouver @ the DiMetric

Calgary came through, once again. Lots of girls who don’t need Halloween to look and act slutty, the men who grope them and lots of cash being thrown at bartenders. The show paid out well – perhaps too well? And about half of the people there seemed to like our set. Notable people in the audience included Darren Miller, Chelsea Midget and Jordan Schensted.

I forgot about Calgary. It was like seeing an ex-girlfriend out on a date with some hideous dipshit of a boyfriend that you could easily arm-wrestle into the ground. I actually might have seen that. And it’s definitely not the worse place to be, but it did feel good to spit there.

In Vancouver now. Everyone here looks so happy and busy. Even the bums seem productive and relaxed. The air tastes like saltwater candy and the food is plentiful and cheap. A trip to Audiophile Records yielded little results but I am trying to curb my record spending as of late. Indian food lines my stomach. My mouth tastes like burnt pine needles, gin and toasted mustard seeds.

This venue is really cool – a gutted main floor of an apartment in the middle of a nifty residential neighborhood. Too bad the Olympics are going to effectively destroy everything cool about Vancouver. Broom it all up and, when no one (important) is looking, dump the whole lot into the Pacific.

I meant to a call a lot of people when I got here.

Kamloops, Cowboy Coffee

2008-11-01T10:31:00.000-07:00

Tour Diaries

5:05pm, Friday, October 31st, Halloween

Touring is ridiculous and asinine. In fact, I wonder why more bands don’t do it. The queasy uneasiness of a belly full of garbage coffee, bombing down the highway at 140km/h. The moon-faced dolts swarming to bad music. The drudgery of travel through monosyllabic scenery. If I truly wanted to make music I would likely stay at home. On the other hand, I do thoroughly enjoy acting like a smarmy jackass. Touring is a chance for others to enjoy my bastard act.

The music is good enough – it has to be. It’s simply a lot of effort to conceive creativity for an hour, spending the rest of the time in the discomfort of a grey limbo.

Regina was a fine start to the Slow Down Molasses/Dumb Angel tour. That city has an overabundance of strange femmes, however. And a quantity, and quality, of drabness. Nick Bonokoski and his larger-than-life smiling face came to watch us play. Nick is better than 99% of people – he laughs in the face of banality like he was eating breakfast. It’s too bad more people weren’t like him – I’d probably have more friends.

I played the best show I have ever played in that band. It was also the most sober I have ever played. I should look into that. My sailor outfit was a hit.

Tonight we play at a Halloween show in Calgary at the Palomino. If McShane doesn’t kill us first with his rocket driving. I think I’m going to yell at him now.

Tomorrow... Calgary.

Homeless for the holidays

2008-10-25T17:55:00.000-07:00

I am homeless. But I assure you I'm fine.

Today everything got packed up in boxes and put in the back of a car. My belongings are spread out over at least three locations. My things need to be gotten rid of.

Next week my band goes on tour. And then I think I have to quit. They deserve someone with a home.

And then I don't know what I am going to do.

Faced with the prospect of an economic recession, like a corporation bent on fiscal prudence, I am in the process of downsizing my life. I am firing my more obsolete possessions while granting early retirement to others. I am ruthless, heartless; I have to be.

I used to pride myself on my ability to move everything I owned in my car. It seemed shrewd and logical – I felt free and nomadic.

When I decided to sell my car my small piles suddenly became daunting. How am I supposed to move everything the next time I relocate? And where am I going to put it?

Tonight, Stephen Malkmus at Amigos Cantina, Big Bear Beers, and someone's going to get a punch in the head.