Things overheard at Gwendolynn's convivial fête

I did it!

2012-02-05T23:26:00.005-05:00

Please watch this advertisement:

Thank you. Now, when I first saw this ad, I found myself asking aloud, "What the fuck is Champix?" Granted, I asked this question 4 hours after seeing the ad, while I was in line at the grocery store, just as my dragon fruit was being scanned. How embarassing! I was simply trying to impress all my fellow shoppers with my exotic fruit purchase. You see, I live in the yuppie enclave of Roncesvalles Village, where well-groomed dogs sit tied outside of stark, modern furniture stores and Polish solicitors wave sausage links as you pass.

As is often the case with advertisements for non-essential prescription pharmaceuticals, there is not even a subtle clue given as to what exactly Champix is. I certainly could have gone ahead and done a simple search of the internets, using some type of "search engine" or "protocol droid," but instead, based on my vast knowledge of advertising and prescriptions, I have come to 3 distinct, inconclusive possibilities as to what Champix could be.

1. Performance-enhancing drug (sports-related)

Based on the constant high-fiving, hugging, and back slapping (some of it even, gasp, interracial) as well as the usage of the song from Rocky, Champix may be some type of drug that allows 40-something men to live out their sports-related pipe dreams. With Champix you can win MVP of your recreational hockey league and finally win the respect of your daughter, culminated with a dramatic, slow-motion hug.

2. Performance-enhancing drug (sex-related)

Based on the constant high-fiving, hugging, and back slapping (some of it even, gasp, interracial) as well as the usage of the triumphant theme from Rocky, Champix may be some type of drug that allows 40-something men to hold an erection for long enough to have intercourse. Just think of all the congratulations you'll get for finally being able to have nearly two minutes of intercourse: your hockey buds will know you're a real "dog," your black friend will finally explain to you what "Jungle Fever" is, your mother will creepily rub your hand due to excitement at the possibility that her son is not a gay after all, and you will finally win the respect of your daughter, who will be so proud that you can actually nail her mom for nearly two minutes that she will dramatically hug you in slow motion.

3. Anti-depressant

Based on the subdued hues, the soothing background music (I can only assume the song is by Enya,) and the insistence on having everything happen in slow motion, Champix may be some type of drug that allows 40-something men who are overall failures to delude themselves into believing that they do not work a pitiful, unrewarding job, are not the worst player on the State Farm Insurers, are not in a loveless marriage, did not hire a black male escort to pose as a friend at the bar, are not into elderlove, and have a daughter that is a very fast runner. By living a constant lie in order to feign happiness, you will win the respect of your daughter, culminated with a dramatic, slow-motion hug set to some type of new age music.

Or maybe it's for some drug to help you quit smoking. Whatever.

Do the Bartman

2012-01-21T17:22:00.002-05:00

Skewed Rationale: A cohesive study on the limits of the human psyche

2012-01-15T14:00:00.003-05:00

I wonder if in an effort to save time when answering typical questions in social settings, actress Minnie Driver purchased a Mini Cooper.

An open letter to Zooey Deschanel

2012-01-05T23:47:00.006-05:00

Dear Zooey,

Remember that time I confused you for your sister, wondering why you decided to join the cast of a second-rate television program with that heavy-browed former teen heartthrob? Remember how puzzling I found it that you, an indie queen who had already won the hearts and minds of Urban Outfitters shoppers and their sale section-scavenging mothers, would subject herself to the monotony of a weekly serial that follows, I don't know, medically-trained detectives who solve post-mortem mysteries with sexy results? Remember how I feigned relief upon learning it was actually your slightly less cute, slightly less buxom, slightly less popular sister who co-starred?

Well, lately I've had to feign shock and awe as it is unmistakably you who stars in a weekly comedic program that, based on your wacky antics during the advertisements, I assume involves you giggling, farting, chasing British man-boys who are stuck in that unfortunate eternal left-legger pre-pubescence, and contorting your face to extents that could wake Jenny McCarthy from her halcyon daze.

Your crooning alongside that unremarkable fellow in She&Him reminded us all why America used to be so sexy: Gingham dress-clad women who sang as if they had never even seen a penis before were more likely to get the black housekeeper to do the dishes, so one could go to the wood-panelled rumpus room and in fact show her a penis. The innocence of your alt-country duo brought that nostalgic Americana to the hip fringes of contemporary culture, teaching skinny boys in skinnier pants that it's okay if no one wants to have sex with them.

Remember that scene in "500 Days of Summer" where you say that really cute thing involving fuzzy kittens that is meant to be an analogy about the tragedy of the human condition, but it is misinterpreted by your co-star, you know, that guy that a lot of people recently found non-threateningly attractive, and he makes it kind of dirty? Or how about that other scene where you trip/bite your tongue/drop a priceless family heirloom/chew with your mouth open/sneeze and it makes a honking sound at a funeral/crap your pants? I miss those moments. I felt like I was sharing a new understanding of sexuality with all my fellow young persons, one in which people are perpetually awkward but still have perfectly trimmed bangs and the rarest vintage clothes.

I guess I'm just a little upset that you're on a network television show, to be digested by the masses, rather than my own personal twee prom queen, picking and choosing scripts based on a rating scale that involves "ugly" sweaters, coffee mugs with unicorns on them, harmonicas, flower-themed hair accessories, and a general suspicion of foreigners.

I miss you.

Sincerely Yours,

This Guy.

An academic undertaking with conclusive evidence of the aforementioned

2011-11-18T22:46:00.004-05:00

Years from now, when archaeologists, historians, professors, assholes, and other jerks begin compiling an unnecessary, overly complex catalogue of the social mores from the golden years of the Internet Age, they will go into great detail chronicling the various self-shot (primarily intended for) myspace photos that girls (and the occasional burgeoning homosexual guy) posted. I hope to be the one first of these assholes/other jerks to do so and thus collect that Nos Energy sponsorship that so many other bloggers tend to flaunt in front of the various cafes we steal internet from.

Boobarella

This type of photograph is taken by a savvy trickster, who knows what the male-dominated internetsphere wants.... the breasts of a 15 year-old girl to look like those of an 18 year-old girl. This is accomplished by holding the camera high above, wearing a low-cut shirt with horizontal, thick stripes, and placing one's upper arms as close together as possible, while still managing to look somewhat natural, if not a little mangled, awkward, and mildly retarded. It is only with a well-executed Boobarella photo that one can entice the type of internet predator that will ask to meet at a Starbucks, rather than an all-you-can-eat pancake house.

Coin Purse

Scientific-types have proven that men are more attracted to women who look like they are pouting. The male sex is self-destructive and wishes to uphold this inclination through its relations with womenfolk. Thus, if a woman constantly looks like she is pouting, the man knows he has failed in some way and must make amends while constantly feeling like shit about himself. Sylvia Plath wrote extensively about this, probably for GQ. That being said, the Coin Purse photograph is accomplished by once again holding the camera above one's head, though not as high as in a Boobarella. The model then purses her lips into a pout and slightly elevates her eyebrows. It creates the illusion of innocence and constant disappointment, though I find in most cases only the former to be an illusion.

Sidecar

Perhaps the most devious yet simultaneously simple of the angles, this shot cannot even be fathomed by those with a mountainous nasal region or those unfortunate enough to have a condition I shall refer to as phantom-chin. After years of research and military testing, science-types conclusively found that individuals who are fortunate enough to be free of the aforementioned afflictions appear even more alluring when pictured from a slight side angle. Teenage girls who use myspace, known for their near-religious following of scientific academic journals, utilized the scientific method and thus turned their heads sideways slightly while still focusing their eyes directly in the lens. It is important in a well-executed Sidecar to still look directly towards the basement-dwelling, sweatpants-wearing, profile-claiming "software engineer," WOW level 84 accomplishing, all around nice and trustworthy young man who will be perusing your pics.

Good night and God bless and stuff.

Why I give up #27

2011-05-31T01:33:00.003-04:00

Stand up for podium

2011-04-14T13:12:00.005-04:00

For all those dutiful citizens researching party platforms and where their local MPs stand on fighter jets, I have the following suggestion: give up immediately. This election is all but over. Look at the podium Stephen Harper has. It says Canada on it. CANADA. Not "Let's stand up for Canada" or "Conservatives <3 Canada." Just "CANADA" plain and simple.

Harper does not have the mustachioed sex appeal of Jack Layton, nor does he have the gold-toothed scholarly elitism of Michael Ignatieff, nor does he have the teacher-slapping roguery of Gilles Duceppe (look it up, I kid you not), nor does he have the...the....the....crafty necklaces of Elizabeth May. All that being said, Harper and his Conservative advisors know one thing for certain: Canada is a nation that respects podiums. If a podium is truly representative of our unique national identity, we will band together and support that podium and ultimately, whoever stands behind it. PODIUM for PM 2011!!!!

The real 5th Beatle

2011-03-07T22:47:00.002-05:00

Allow the following video to act as a relic from a time that was much simpler. A time in which music videos still carried relevant messages; moral critiques of social order, rebellious battlecries for social upheaval, and subtle placements of Pepsi cans and ECKO hoodies. Yes, this was before the Obama presidency—a time when interracial relationships were still obstinate and kinky, a time when a strong economy allowed for pitifully low, untaxed cash wages for babysitters and migrant workers.

God save us all.

Made You Look #1

2011-02-24T13:47:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I think that Alicia Keys is the black Natalie Portman.

Then I remember that I don't care.

Ready, Set, Mascot!

2011-02-09T12:34:00.002-05:00

Fear not, fellow freedom-lovers and defenders of liberty, consumerism, Twilight, and everything else that is associated with the Western World, these two spacesuit-clad cycloptic tooth things are not purveyors of galactic terrorism or promoters of tooth/eye care. They are Wenlock and Mandeville, the official mascots of the 2012 Summer Olympics in London. And they're gosh-darn adorable. And not phallic at all.

Stop tempting me, you cruel wench

2011-02-07T23:59:00.003-05:00

Fan Mail #1

2011-02-01T13:20:00.004-05:00

This piece of admiration-fueled fanmail comes from Jen C. of White Plains, NY.

Hey This Guy, you seem to always have your ears set slightly ahead of the curve, to next-level trendy music. What have you been listening to lately?

Thanks for your interest, Jen C. I'm always happy to connect with my throngs of loyal readers, especially the female ones who send me full-body shots.

Dads - Hat Creek 7"

Chapel Club - Wintering EP

Tijuana Panthers - Max Baker

Liars - Sisterworld

God Bless America, Amiright yall?

2011-01-23T15:54:00.005-05:00

Fucking hipster

2011-01-23T01:57:00.003-05:00

Fucking hipster

2011-01-11T02:22:00.002-05:00

Cool-headed Logicians

2010-12-28T14:24:00.003-05:00

"Not all crazy people are brilliant, but almost all brilliant people are crazy"

The rationale as to why Federal law enforcement experts believed an elusive man who mailed letter bombs to universities and airlines would need to wear aviator sunglasses and a hoodie is lost on me. Sure, it was the early 90s when this composite sketch was put together. However, it is based on nothing. No one had ever seen the Unabomber, his identity was a mystery, so what is this a composite of? I can only assume it is that of everyone's creepy uncle. You know, the one who hugs for too long, has VHS tapes of every episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, and wears velcro New Balance shoes.

Arguably the Unabomber is a brilliant but crazy man. The FBI composite sketch artist who came up with this Weird Al Yankovic "Eat It" video image is simply the latter.

fucking hipster

2010-12-01T02:00:00.000-05:00

Why God is out of my football pool

2010-12-01T00:59:00.004-05:00

– Buffalo Bills receiver Stevie Johnson after dropping what would have been the game-winning touchdown pass on Sunday.

fucking hipster

2010-11-02T01:18:00.002-04:00

The Gravy Train Stops Here

2010-10-26T14:19:00.003-04:00

Say what you will about Mayor-elect of Toronto, Rob Ford (He is obese. He has Hulk Hogan coloured hair. He has a scrunched up pig face. He has more chins than metropolitan wards. He is loud. He lacks insight. He is from Etobicoke–a wasteland of stripmalls, industrial plazas, high rise apartments, Humber College, fireworks stores, general unhappiness, multiculturalism, 3 hours of sunlight a day, oh and an IKEA. He is racially insensitive. He is homophobic. He is bad with numbers [$6-million for bike lanes on Jarvis, anyone?]. He believes the homeless can be ignored out of existence. He has to get his suits custom made in hangars by a team of "Oriental people" who "work like dogs." Yes, he has his suits made by Asian dogs. He is an "average Joe." In this case, "average Joe" refers to a fat, loud, homophobic, mathematically ignorant man-bear-pig who panders to residents of the inner-suburbs with an ill-constructed catchphrase that implies a commitment to tax-cuts.), but his commitment to a gravy train stop at City Hall is commendable.

Although green-conscious, bike-riding, Tom's-wearing downtown residents may fear the change of power at City Hall as marking a reversion to the pre-Miller days when cyclists were like game for cars on the prowl and green roofs were simply grow-ops on the third floor of Parkdale row houses, Rob Ford has articulated (though with poor, saliva-spewing enunciation and a lot of heavy breathing) a belief in alternate, sustainable energy sources. I hope he maintains his election platform that promises a gravy train stop at City Hall. I am not sure if it connects to his Etobicoke enclave, but rest assured that before his four years in office are up, Rob Ford will have an eco-friendly gravy train stop in each of the major hubs of our fair megacity (pending he doesn't chug the supply of succulent gravy fuel).

GiveUsFood GiveUsFood

2010-10-24T03:29:00.006-04:00

Yes friends, this clip was in fact filmed in my famed neighborhood. That is indeed my local thrift shop. That is my local miniature merry-go-round. Those are my local teenageartfagcancer musicians. That is the local convenience mart where I purchase credit for my Virgin/Bell/Telus/Rogers/Colecovision phone. And yes, that is indeed my nearest (though not quite local) karaoke bar that is an ideal locale to celebrate a family birthday fun time anniversary graduation super.

We can't stay we can't stay we play snood we play snood.

2010-10-11T02:07:00.002-04:00

I've been rather busy as of late looking at how others look at me.
Here's looking at you.
Oh, sorry, actually that's me.

Curse those handsome devils!

2010-10-11T02:05:00.000-04:00

All of them

Especially Ashton Kutcher.

"A who's who of who cares"

2010-09-30T02:24:00.003-04:00

-Sir Sebastien Grainger on the 2010 Polaris Music Prize gala.

fucking hipster

2010-09-17T18:46:00.000-04:00

2010-09-03T02:58:00.002-04:00

It was a strange reaction, this I admit

I scoured relentlessly for nearly 15 minutes

Relentlessly

Tirelessly

I found the song that played when I felt like I was something more to not just you and everyone we know and knew, but to myself in that moment and in this

Until the song ends

Diaspora Catalogue #2

2010-08-27T13:22:00.002-04:00

"Today we were unlucky, but remember we only have to be lucky once. You will have to be lucky always."

-The IRA, after a failed attempt to blow up then-British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, October 12, 1984

2010-08-26T15:46:00.002-04:00

"All art is propaganda. On the other hand, not all propaganda is art."

-George Orwell

Diaspora Catalogue #1

2010-08-04T14:38:00.002-04:00

Die Antwood's Yo-Landi Vi$$er on the band's popularity (from the National Post, August 4, 2010):

"Vin Diesel has like 11 million fans and we've only got 80, 000. When you have more fans than Vin Diesel, then you know you're popping."

2010-08-04T02:17:00.002-04:00

Waiting to begin again
with photographic evidence to back your claim
Fancy lenses and digital recurrence
Shutter speed
Shutter speed
Shudder speed

With each roll you start anew
Absorbing new mannerisms
Believing new love is not a passing trend, a fleeting emotion, a loosening grip
So you wait to begin again
A new roll and a shutter speed

2010-07-28T02:18:00.002-04:00

Coddled children with winning attitudes and entitlement aptitudes make my skin crawl ever Northward to a place that hasn't been tainted by status updates, ever-rolling bikes, monthly stipends, and touch-screen phones.

2010-07-25T04:08:00.000-04:00

If the businessmen drink my blood
Like the kids in art school said they would

Then I guess I'll just begin again

Free Lord Black

2010-07-20T17:40:00.003-04:00

Free Kobayashi

2010-07-07T12:48:00.001-04:00

Black Bloc Party

2010-06-28T19:57:00.002-04:00

I happen to have a step-cousin who is in his early-20s whom I have not seen for a good few years. I never particularly cared for him and the majority of my memories of him involve a runny nose and the constant smell of shit. This past weekend he hopped in his compact second-hand car and drove to Toronto, the big city, TO, tdot, where dreams come true, bedbugs run rampant from mattress to mattress, and a Starbucks is only a brick's throw away. Why? To partake in the G20 protests. His rationale? An overarching "hatred" of cops–apparently those law-enforcing sons of bitches have it in for him and always write him speeding and parking tickets. RISE UP AGAINST OPPRESSION!

I am not too sure (nor do I care) if he successfully rallied against his oppressors or was a martyr for his cause and faced 8-hour detention in the makeshift chainlink fence prison near Eastern Avenue. Essentially, my step-cousin sums up what these G20 protests were really about: suburban middle-class white youth with a penchant for violence due to constant video game playing who came to demonstrate unrest with their own pathetic lives by smashing windows, spraypainting that circle A symbol thing, wearing clever bandana-hoodie disguises, and stopping for a hot dog on the corner.

Calling themselves the Black Bloc, these "protestors" embarked on my fair city simply to engage in directionless violence and destruction, as this was the closest they could ever get to a real-life Grand Theft Auto: riot police, cop cars on fire, disregard for the rule of law. Yes, there certainly were some socialists/environmentalists/whateverists who participated in protests, but I think that those who truly stand for a cause (not just "fuck corporations," "America sucks," and the like) have at least a slight understanding that nothing is accomplished in our democratic society through violent uprising. Such acts of wanton destruction may be effective in weak states with poor government aparatuses, but not here.

Ultimately, the Black Bloc descendended upon Toronto to protest nothing more than the monotony of their own pathetic lives. Time to get back to your parents' basement, losers.

Mom,

2010-06-25T15:43:00.000-04:00

I swear, I've tried to be an alcoholic

Fuck is it ever exhausting

2010-06-25T15:34:00.002-04:00

What is this: existing without trying or knowing or caring

just stand still

just a standstill

Being rather than living

Reading avant-garde internet protocol

You sound so eloquent in zeroes and ones

But in real life ever after,

A punchline that falls flat

A single crease on a brow

A day I swear I'll remember to remember

But I can't–I only lived it

I want to love you

online

Egads, that's punny!

2010-06-22T02:00:00.000-04:00

From the Globe and Mail: "U.S. discovers 'vast mineral riches' in Afghanistan, giving people even more reason to blow the place up."

Life is oh-so serious, guys

2010-06-15T02:26:00.003-04:00

Seriously.

2010-06-13T02:47:00.003-04:00

At this moment I encapsulate Generation X

Not a bland Pepsi commercial

Not a guilt-laden AIDS concert

Rather, an out of style hat with feather and all

The one I gave her the night she reached the apex

I don't want to ride behind you anymore

I can pedal faster

Your rear blinker an irritant

Your stubbornness a detour

I don't want to stoop before the Queen

Spaced out words trickling off my tongue

Elongated vowels tickling my lips

Remember when we shared those vowels, those words?

Now we lean away from each other

Opposing kickstands

Tangled chains

Blinking lights

With nothing more to say than guffawed nonsense

"So um yeah um okay um sure um yeah"

Don't fucking wear my hat

Don't fucking rewrite my words

Don't make me another character in your edited script

We lean away from each other

Bearing the brunt of 20 failed relationships before

I'd rather not see you at all

2010-06-07T14:00:00.002-04:00

BBM me the deets for Grandpa's funeral, Mom won't text me back

I have an iPhone

Oh shit, right, our family isn't platform universalized yet

I'll just tell Mom you lost your phone, she'll understand

kthnx maybe snag some pics

2010-06-02T17:09:00.006-04:00

We say what we mean I believe it, I do

We mean what we say, the reversion is true

But what happens when we mean too much to say?

Not enough words to express how we feel

A flip through thesaurus pages to synonymously convey

the apex of thoughts, emotions;

hearts and minds and abdominal instincts

We travel on backroads with outdated maps;

Old fashioned sentiments our only guide

So accustomed to lonesome travel that when we pass another

we crash into them simply to feel something, anything, everything–

but only in an instant.

Blink and it's gone.

0.45:1

2010-04-25T12:46:00.003-04:00

Despite my upbringing and the often true stereotype of Jewish cheapness, I have never been a particularly frugal person. I enjoy spending money on fine goods. I am rarely one to make a fuss over the payment of a split bill amongst friends. I consider myself to be a pretty good tipper (especially now since I work in the service industry). Granted, it pains me to waste money–especially in regards to food and alcohol. No matter how full I am I will finish the last few bites of that burger; no matter how drunk I am I will down the last half of that sugary bottle of 50. Regardless, I am no cheapie. Be that as it may, there is one specific cottony item that I will forever be cheap about: socks.

Yes, loyal reader(s), I pride myself on being a bargain sock shopper. My philosophy regarding the purchase of socks forgoes any sort of dialectic methods and relies heavily on mathematical principles. You see, I am most pleased when I can reach a specific sock to dollar ratio, the coveted 1:1.

Now, at this point I should hope you are questioning why you have spent the last few minutes of your life reading a young man's musings on socks. Rather, I hope you are questioning such an act. Otherwise I fear for your priorities and social life.

As I now feel the mild stirring of guilt in my stomach for having briefly distracted you from your Farmville, I will make a quick ascension to the peak of this post: I recently reached a monumental sock to dollar ratio, a ratio so unfathomable it took me minutes to realize the gravity of my discovery. Yes, I achieved a ratio of 0.45:1. I will give you a moment to allow this to sink in.

Okay, back to Farmville.

An open letter to Kevin Drew of Broken Social Scene

2010-04-22T13:59:00.006-04:00

Kevin,

Truth be told, I have never been too keen on Broken Social Scene (nor am I too keen on cute rhyming triplets). I have always had a like/hate relationship with so-called indie rock, which in itself has been disproportionate and unfair: My negative feelings have always been far stronger than my positive ones. For example, I enjoy Metric's Live It Out, nearly from start to finish. On that note, I cannot even listen to a Stars album without wishing Quebec would secede from Canada and bring Montreal with it, simply so there can be a more official, internationally recognized barrier separating myself and the band (I hear slabs of concrete are great for this and have the potential to be a lucrative entry into the nic-nac market).

That being said, the majority of what is to follow in this letter has less to do with the music you and your cohorts have made under the Broken Social Scene umbrella and more to do with something I'd like to call "racing a retired horse."

First, allow me to explain this analogy I just coined:

Arguably, horses do not posses conscious minds. Thus, they are ultimately unaware that they may be past their prime and ready to move on to the green pastures of retirement. Whilst basking in this retirement, if an unsavoury character was to dangle a carrot before the aged horse, drawing it into a race of sorts, said horse would most likely gallop forth disregarding its retirement. Why? Because, as I just explained, horses do not posses conscious minds. Therefore, an horse could not possibly know that it is in retirement.

Kevin, I sincerely hope you follow this analogy and can use the rudimentary logic most humans posses to see how it applies to Broken Social Scene.

Fine, I'll just fucking spell it out: BSS had their peak. You conquered indie rock. You are the definitive Canadian band of the 00's. You created a scene, a specific sound, a tightly-knit association of musicians. But please, I beg of you, stop the madness. Stop filling this balloon with jangly indie rock helium, otherwise it is going to burst and spew tongue-in-cheek lyrics upon the land!

The release of Forgiveness Rock Record and companion EP Lo-Fi For The Dividing Nights are not what the music world needs right now. Ten years ago, yes. I thought you had already passed the torch with your protege-signing of Still Life Still to Arts&Crafts. I was under the assumption that Still Life Still was the Vader to BSS's Emperor. However, based on the refusal of BSS to dignifiedly fade away, it would appear that begun this clone war has.

Thank you for putting Toronto on the map musically. Thank you for putting out a couple of the quintessential indie rock albums of the 00's. Thank you for subduing that she-devil Feist. Now, kindly fuck off.

Yours,

This Guy.

Yes wave!

2010-04-21T20:05:00.000-04:00

This scrumptious little band of cupcake-heads recently called it quits to take the admirable and self-fulfilling route of going back to school, like some sort of bad Adam Sandler film (yes, redundant).

I'll spare you the intricate Wikipeadia-approved details and sum up Mika Miko in this short list:

From Los Angeles
Part of The Smell collective
A few releases on No Age's Post Present Medium
Are kick-ass riot girrrrrrrls
Were not as good as I was expecting last year at NxNe

Their video for "Business Cats" begins as one of the worst high school camcorder-shot projects possible, then becomes a fine bit of stop motion, then becomes a somewhat standard rock and or roll video. Either way, fun stuff!

We Be Xuxa

C.Y.S.L.A.B.F.

2010-04-17T00:55:00.002-04:00

While this blog is on indefinite hiatus, not unlike the jivers in the Blink-182 ensemble once claimed to be, why not follow this delightful blog like random-access biblical protocol? We all could use a fairly uninformative series of reviews of Toronto nachos. Thanks, guy.

2010-02-26T02:03:00.002-05:00

"Suffice it to say that in order for one to truly understand and appreciate the social poetics of Vampire Weekend, a degree from an institute of higher learning is a prerequisite"

—Some guy I hate

Mine has never even offered

2010-02-25T14:37:00.001-05:00

Olympic-themed commercials I detest

2010-02-19T00:38:00.008-05:00

All of them.

EDIT 2/25/2010

Especially this one:

Though I realize this commercial is not directly Olympic-themed, it still
panders to the whole supposed national identity that the Olympics tend
to create for that two week period of patriotism. Yes, the first thing

new immigrants to Canada should be privy to is mediocre coffee.

A Decade Under The Taking Back Sunday Reference Part V

2010-02-05T15:31:00.007-05:00

The final volume of this retrospecticus maximus (haHA sophistimacation!) will act as a bit of a dumping ground for the albums that I either really liked at one point but do not care for as strongly anymore, believe are notably significant but should not necessarily be considered one of the best of the decade, or just simply cannot be bothered writing about.

Straylight Run - Prepare to Be Wrong

After their debut album was a melancholy letdown, this EP rectified hopes that former Taking Back Sunday member John Nolan had not in fact lost his edge. As well, this EP incorporates electronic loops before the mainstream began to overindulge in the practice. There is even a Bob Dylan cover for Moses' sake!

Emily Haines and The Soft Skeleton - Knives Don't Have Your Back

When I first heard the frontwoman of Metric was to release a solo album, I anticipated a dance-pop shitshow. Rather, Haines crafted quite the opposite of that, an introspective album of haunting piano numbers.

Wintersleep - Untitled

Good things do happen on Canada's East Coast. "Indie" rock with an art-rock angle, but devoid of any pretentions. Also, spasmodic percussion that makes you question the supposed altruism of mathematics.

Thom Yorke - The Eraser

Trip hop and glitch electronica as perceived by musical mastermind Thom Yorke. Both sonically haunting and idiosyncratically danceable.

The Mae-Shi - Terrorbird

Words do not suffice in describing this album of madness. Take standard song structure, melody, and overall principles and chop them up with a butcher knife, then add a dash of saffron and put the fleshy, succulent pieces back together however you see fit.

Death From Above 1979 - You're a Woman, I'm a Machine

Intercourse! It may have appeared that I was shit-talking this album when I spoke such heavenly words of Sebastien Grainger's solo debut. Do not misinterpret my comparison. This album still kicks bum-ass.

The Arcade Fire - Neon Bible

Huge band. Lots of instruments. Massive critical acclaim. Occasionally bilingual lyrics. Reportedly a favourite of David Bowie and Bruce Springsteen. That all sounds like too much to me. If someone was to simply use the previous sentences to describe a band I would politely say, "Fuck off, I hate this band on principle, you dubious ruffian." Moving past all of that, this is a carefully crafted album by a talented collective of musicians that defies strict categorization.

Death Cab For Cutie - Transatlanticism
I watched The OC. I did! I fucking did! I even enjoyed it (Season 1 anyway). The show killed emo (and Marissa!) and brought this band far too much attention from unworthy, unsavory, undeveloped (breast-wise) teenie-boppers. Oh well.

Rx Bandits - ...And The Battle Begun

Ska music can be unbelievably fun, but it generally feels like a gimmick to me. It is not music I will sit and analyze while riding the subway. This album changes that. Prog-ska? I suppose. Meaningful lyrics, impressive musicianship, but still enough jumpy upstrokes to keep your head bopping.

A Decade Under The Taking Back Sunday Reference Part IV

2010-01-30T14:43:00.007-05:00

Go forth, young sailor and capture that unrelenting isle of great fortune and sweet meats...

Phantom Planet - Phantom Planet

Yes, it is indeed those guys who wrote The OC theme song. But wait--a few years before Josh Schwartz decided to create a show about privileged sexy teens (played by actors in their 20s) in California (he took a gamble on the setting, yes), the theme song was an actual song by Phantom Planet called, of all things, "California," which can be found on their 2002 album The Guest.

Yes, this is indeed the band that Jason Schwartzman was originally the drummer for. Schwartzman departed after The Guest and the ensuing releases from the band were actually much stronger. Follow up albums Phantom Planet and Raise The Dead still stay true to the band's pop-rock roots and are easily digestible, but explore slightly darker territory than the Beach Boys influenced work on The Guest.

2004's self-titled album is one that I can undoubtedly say is listenable from start to finish. Never have I skipped a track while listening to Phantom Planet and I dare you to find an unlistenable song on the album. In fact, if you are so bold as to challenge my assertion, we will settle things with a brutish X-arm battle. Really though, come on, admit it, you cannot possibly dislike this album. It is brimming with hooks-a-plenty that suck you in, like a high powered Hoover vacuum cleaner on the bumpy carpeting in your parents' living room (good job Dad). There is an ambient dream-pop element on tracks like "Knowitall" and "After Hours" with subtle drum machine backing, dreamy tremolo guitar work, and gentle keyboard lines. As well, one cannot deny the band's command of melody, as numerous tracks have impressive three-part harmonies.

Be honest, you like this album. There is no shame in admitting so. Even if The OC is a guilty pleasure, there is no reason why this album should be. It is simply a pleasure (simple pleasures? ha. no.) Just admit it.

DD/MM/YYYY - Black Square

If any of you (assuming there is more than one of you) have read this here blog of varying quality and hypocrisy over the past year, this album's appearance on the list should not surprise you. I suppose it is my Sebastien Grainger & The Mountains of 2009. Not to compare and contrast the two albums (as they are so vastly different it would be unfair to do so), but Black Square had a lot more riding on it. This is the album that single-handedly saved 2009 from being a complete musical write-off. If I was to concoct a list of the best albums of 2009 it would not be a list at all, rather a single line: Black Square.

Generally I believe in the platitude that art should be separate from the artist. I would prefer not to know much about an artist's personal life, as it affects my enjoyment and interpretation of their work. However, over the course of the past year I have become somewhat familiar with the members of DD/MM/YYYY—If you are at all involved in the Toronto music scene it is difficult not to be. Having said that, this familiarity has, if anything, made me appreciate their work even more. The members of DD/MM/YYYY live in near-squalor yet have toured North America and Europe and are a household name in independent art rock circles. I believe it is from this near-squalor and truly independent spirit that the band can create such earnest and passionate art. On top of how earnest and passionate the music is, it is also unlike anything else out there: complicated time signatures, double synthesizer madness, acid jazz guitar riffs, complex mind-bending lyrics, and, um, some bass.

Compared to past releases, Black Square is the band's most coherent effort. The strongest tracks that bookend the album (tracks 1-4 and 10-12) are perhaps some of the greatest musical compositions to have graced mine ears, methinks. However, the albums does lose some ground in the middle with a series of instrumental and drone-noise numbers. Regardless, it is a fantastic album from a band that deserves your unwavering support. Go buy it, now.

Brand New - Deja Entendu

Fuck it. I am fully going back on my word. This album changed everything for me. Perhaps at the core, what each track on Deja Entendu is really about is trivial in retrospect. Perhaps comparing a failing relationship to a shipwreck is a tad over the top. Perhaps song titles that are essays in themselves is a little cliche. Perhaps not everything has to be a simile or metaphor, that it is acceptable on occasion to simply state what it is you are referring to. Regardless, Jesse Lacey makes every word count. Despite the fact that most songs on Deja are about some girl whom he probably couldn't care less about today, Jesse's analogies and phrasing are beautiful.

The lyrics on this album are proof that it's not what you say, it's how you say it. Who cares what these songs are actually about. They capture a whirlwind of emotion both lyrically and musically. Yes, there is a formula that was developed on this album, the quiet beginning that leads to a culminating crescendo chorus of an ending (as demonstrated on "Okay I beleive you but my tommy gun don't," "Jaws Theme Swimming," "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot," "Me vs. Maradonna vs. Elvis," and "Good to know if I ever need attention all I have to do is die"), but it is used to such great effect. Furthermore, this is an album in every sense of the word. It opens with the slow-building "mini" song "Tautou" that transitions wonderfully to the punchy drum and bass intro of "Sic Transit Gloria (Glory Fades)." The fact that each song transitions to the next seamlessly suggests Lacey's role as not just a songwriter, but a musical auteur. Closing track "Play Crack The Sky" is undoubtedly the best possible closer to an album of emotional highs and lows. Sure, an adolescent romance is not anywhere close to a shipwreck, and it is laughable to suggest such a comparison in everyday conversation, but goddamn is "Play Crack The Sky" ever a well-written song. Moreover, as I said in regards to Taking Back Sunday, just because one does not feel those emotional extremes anymore in his or her post-adolescent age, it does not make them any less legitimate nor should they be written off entirely. Lacey may have written about retrospectively trivial matters, but at the time they meant everything to him and he waxed poetic about them in a manner that very few can.

This is the first album that really forced me to focus on lyrics and the power of the written word. This is the first album with lyrics that literally made me cry. This is the first album that I would defend with my life against dickweeds who called it "emo," attempting to group it with other adolescent garbage. I rarely listen to Deja Entendu anymore. I suppose I am afraid to. I am afraid that I won't feel as strongly connected to it now as I did 6 years ago. I am afraid that with the loss of that connection I will lose a part of myself.

Well, fear not. I listened to it. It is still one of my favourite albums ever.

I'm sure #1 is God

2010-01-22T16:07:00.004-05:00

I made the unfortunate discovery of this blog yesterday:

Before I ramble on and get to the "nitty gritty" of why it makes my penis erode, I urge you to quickly peruse the site and get the gist of it, though being the cause of more hits for the site does erode my penis further.

While you read about why life is worth living based on a series of arbitrarily cute everyday occurrences, I will sit here silently, twiddling my thumbs, and thinking about a professor I had in first year Canadian Politics who always said we were getting into the "nitty gritty" when explaining a complex issue like fiscal responsibility. Apparently, he had some sort of mid-life epiphany when he realized why he always says "nitty gritty" : He is a homosexual. I used my keen intellect (I got 72 in that class) to come to this conclusion as he had previously mentioned his children, then one day mentioned possibly going to Mexico with his "partner" over Reading Week, "...but I'm not sure he can get work off." Understandable. Mid-February is when Pottery Barn receives its new Spring inventory.

Back on topic...

The girl in front of me in class yesterday spent literally the entire two hour lecture browsing the 1000 Awesome Things blog. Okay I lied. She occasionally went to the other tab in Safari that was on some online store specializing in horrid crewneck Mom sweaters. I realize that 1000 Awesome Things is certainly not geared towards such a cynical being as I and some undergrads (even those sitting in Architecture For Our Times) appreciate gooey sentiments like babies wearing big person clothes (awww a little scientist! are you going to invent a way for you to not constantly shit?) and Post Secret, but I find the 1000 Things blog a little suspect. The purpose of the blogosphere is to post rants about why Kings of Leon suck, leak Pitchfork albums, chronicle the monotony of your day to day life, upload pictures of various designer lines of clothing you will never be able to afford, anonymously take jabs at your friends, and hire a ghostwriter to make you seem like a well-read, richly cultured, fairly articulate rapper named Kanye. Any other uses of the blogosphere are suspect.

The 1000 Things Blog is a devious plot by the Church of Latter Day Saints to seep its way into our collective pop culture blogosphere consciousness. By winning over web-gazers with its positive message and easy to follow layout, it can continue to count down to that great powerful #1—which will undoubtedly be revealed as God, probably just as 2012 is upon us (not the release of the movie on DVD, but the real thing)—and continue to gain followers along the way. As well, the devious internet propagandizers of the Church will have us all wearing Snuggies, listening to Jack's Mannequin, believing that Joseph Smith Jr. was visited by an angel in Vermont of all places, and drinking POM (I can't knock them for believing in the importance of antioxidants). Stop the madness.

A Decade Under The Taking Back Sunday Reference Part III

2010-01-22T01:15:00.005-05:00

Friends, as I continue this list of my favourite albums of the 00's, I find it necessary to share my recent blogging hang-ups with you. I went a good few months without posting to this very blog. I suppose I was bored, unstimulated, lazy, a mild alcoholic, intimidated by the plethora of other blogs in existence, stymied by the verbose reviews on Pitchfork, more interested in surfing Asian porn, more interested in my other blog, kind of homosexual (the gays just don't blog, it's a scientific fact. That Perez guy is a phony).

Anyway, to my point... The internet can be a fantastic resource. If used properly it can provide one with a googolplex of information, music, pictures of celebrity nipple slips, news, pirated movies, shopping, overpriced resale tickets to see Muse at the ACC, and videos of people hurting themselves in various ways (both sexual and non-sexual). However, the internet is also a farce. It gives too many people an anonymous voice where they can express poorly thought out, poorly researched, and just flat-out inaccurate opinions and "facts." There are far too many music blogs. Though I do not label my blog as simply one of the music review/leak assortment, the musical aspect does account for 75% of my posts. What is the purpose of my blog? Is it simply lost in a sea of malcontent or does it soar above the pack, on some type of sky metaphor?

Guess what, assholes? I don't fucking care. Fuck you all. This blog is for me. I don't care what you think of it. I don't care if my grammar is not impeccable. I don't care if you think my taste in music is lame or passé or predictable or mainstream or too "out there" or just right. Chomp on some sweaty testicles.

Let us carry on with my list...

At The Drive-in - Relationship of Command

It is such a travesty that these Texans called it quits at the start of the decade. The two offshoot bands that rose from the ashes of At The Drive-in's demise never quite satisfied me. Sparta started off with potential, if only because their first album, Wiretap Scars, sounded like a duller ATDI, mostly due to the fact that Omar Rodriguez-Lopez was not in the band. Then with each subsequent album their sound began to morph more towards a fairly generic "alternative rock." As for The Mars Volta, I feel as though I am supposed to respect what they do. They are so progressive. 12 minutes songs, multilingual lyrics, an ever-growing band size, far-out lyrics, mild psychedelia. I can't wrap my head around them. Each album has one or two songs I can tolerate and I suppose the rest require some sort of accompanying psychedelic drug. Not for me.

One could say, I suppose, that ATDI pioneered the new post-hardcore scene that emerged in the 00's. Their swan song, Relationship of Command, sounds commonplace amongst the Thursdays and Brand News of the mid-90s. But wait. It came out in 2000, a good few years before post-hardcore found melody and hooks. Yes, Thursday's Full Collapse came out in 2001 and certainly is an influential album, but it wasn't until 2003's War All The Time that the band began to understand the power of a proper melody and slightly more coherent song structure.Relationship of Command has plenty of melody, plenty of hooks, but also plenty of screaming, meandering song structure, surprisingly effective spoken word, occasional synth, surrealist lyrics, a strong political stance (but not in an overt Rage Against The Machine manner), unorthodox guitar riffs, and spastic tempo shifts. It is like listening to the future of music that never quite manifested itself. Yes, a few bands have lived up to the future that ATDI laid out, specifically Brand New and to a lesser extent Thursday (Common Existence really was bad), but other so-called post-hardcore bands really missed the mark and squandered what ATDI set the groundwork for.

Tegan & Sara - The Con

Completely changing gears from At The Drive-In, another one of my favourites of the decade is twin sisters Tegan & Sara's The Con. Despite each sister writing her own songs on the album separately from the other, The Con finds both on the same wavelength. There is a natural flow to it and you barely notice which sister wrote/sings each song. Death Cab for Cutie's Chris Walla adds an excellent level of production on the album, as the additional layers of percussion, synthesizers, and vocals at his behest help to create a fuller sound.

The Con is still propped up by the folky song structures that the twins have always used. However, it also incorporates plenty of "indie rock" touches, specifically in regards to layered guitar riffs and background synth. Furthermore, the album utilizes a fair amount of experimental percussion, with lots of stop-start rhythms and unconventional drum lines.

Unfortunately, The Con appears to be a diamond in the rough in terms of Tegan & Sara's musical catalogue, as follow-up album Sainthood pales in comparison. Regardless, it is a beautifully haunting album crafted by two adept and intelligent young women.

Taking Back Sunday - Tell All Your Friends

Let's get a few things straight. This is an immature album. What were once profound lyrics to me at 17 are almost laughable teen drama to me now. Regardless, I will still stand by this album. Sure, there are gaps in Tell All Your Friends that send it horribly off course. The last three in particular weigh down the album, especially the out of place pop rocker "You're So Last Summer." Everything about that song makes me cringe. The title. The sucky tune. "Boys like you are a dime a dozen." Gah. Also, closing track "Head Club" is an uncomfortably forced way to end the album. It is as if the band specifically wrote that song as a way to close the album in an "epic" way, but it is so artificial and strained and leaves one unsettled, with its cheesy repetitive chant, "Don't call my name out your window, I'm leaving." Also, don't get me started about the production quality. There is that constant faint buzz in the background on every single track.

I suppose this album sums up teen angst. And guess what? There is nothing wrong with that. It typifies how you feel at that age. Sure, in retrospect it is fucking ridiculous and trivial, but the fact of the matter is that those ridiculously intense life or death emotions are really what you feel as a teenager. You really want the girl who dumped you to get in a car accident. Or at least you think you do because you are too immature to actually think of the consequences of such a tragic event. It just feels right in the immediate present.

I realize I sort of wrote off Brand New's Deja Entendu for the very reasons I am heralding Tell All Your Friends as fantastic, but comparatively, once I realized how much more Brand New had to offer, it caused Deja to take a bit of a backseat.

Even when I saw Taking Back Sunday a couple of years ago and was far past my irrationally emotional angsty period, I still felt a rush when they played "Cute Without The 'E' (Cut from the team)." For those three minutes I was a teen again as I sang along, actually feeling a connection to such inexperienced sentiments as "Why can't I feel anything from anyone other than you?"

The fact that I could feel that way again, if only for a few minutes, proves how strong of an impact Tell All Your Friends had on me and, I can only assume, many others.

Zapf Dingbats!

2010-01-20T01:48:00.002-05:00

Loyal reader(s), if you can spot at least one thing wrong with this article from the Health section of Metro, perhaps the finest and most reliable daily publication in the world, you win! (nothing[!])

A Decade Under The Taking Back Sunday Reference Part II

2010-01-15T18:05:00.006-05:00

And now I say, let us continue this list of wonder and amazement...

Brand New - The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me

Deja Entendu was a genre-defining album. It is the quintessential emo-rock-with-some-screaming-post-hardcore-whatever album. Also, it is really fucking good. Beyond that, however, it is almost melodramatic to a fault. I was lucky enough to be 18 when the album came out. I felt it was a precise declaration of how I felt. A few years later I realized that I don't feel that way anymore. Not everything is so immediate, so intense, so life/death. Some things are far more important than how the girl you're dating worded a sentence on MSN Messenger.

This is why The Devil and God is one of the best albums of the decade. It marks a shift in Jesse Lacey's songwriting. A realization that there is more to life than how you feel when some girl won't answer your text messages. This album really is about transitioning from carefree teenhood to adulthood. Losing friends. Acquiring new responsibilities. Not living up to your parents' expectations. Not living up to your own expectations. Finding experiences outside of your own and relating to them, or if not relating, understanding them, even when they have nothing to do with you.

Beyond the lyrical content, this albums marks an experimental shift for the band. Sure, there is still that standard quiet-loud dynamic that is a trademark of Brand New's sound. Yet there is also experimentation—not to the point that any song is inaccessible, but to the point that it challenges your comfort with standard song structure.

The Devil and God... is a complete album. It opens with a bang that will catch you off-guard 30 or so seconds into "Sowing Season" and ends with the subdued, melancholy analogy of "Handcuffs." In between, it tells tales of early 20s disillusionment, familial loss, fate, and yes, even love. This album has made me cry, like a little girly-man who loves his Mom a lot. God is it ever good.

Sebastien Grainger and The Mountains

Who would have thought that the drum bashing, mustache-sporting, sexy lyrics-screaming, blasé attitude-possessing Grainger had the capacity to write such definitive, soul-baring rock and roll. Yes, Death From Above 1979 was a kickass band. They proved, far better than The White Stripes, that two-member bands can sufficiently rock. However, Grainger finally faced the emptiness of the sexfuck lyrics and lifestyle of DFA1979. While former bandmate Jesse F. Keeler was off "crafting beats," turning knobs, wearing sunglasses, straightening the brim on his baseball cap, buying tshirts, attending Vice parties, using one hand to hold an earphone to one ear while "spinning" with the other hand, taking the occasional bathroom break...in Miami!, Grainger kept a low profile and began writing the songs that would eventually become his solo debut. Apparently during this time he did quite a bit of maturing as well, as the lyrics on his album are a far cry from the sex-crazed, fuck-if-I-care, care-if-I-fuck ones of DFA1979.

Grainger's album is one of the most earnest I've heard in quite some time. Not only does he bare his soul lyrically, but musically as well. Though the tracks do not have the same bite as those of DFA1979, they are still powerful songs that often still possess a certain edge. This is music that literally everyone can enjoy on some level.

I spent the better part of 2008 gushing about Grainger to cohorts and on this here very blog. I just cannott help myself. He is that damn good.

Blood Brothers - Burn Piano Island, Burn/Crimes/Young Machetes

I have spent a great deal of time pondering in regards to which Blood Brothers album was the most significant to me. I nearly fell victim to the trappings of elitism by concluding that their "older stuff" is far superior. In fact, I was close to tipping my cap to 2003's Burn Piano Island, Burn. It is the band's "major label" debut and was recorded with a paltry $25 000 budget, which seems like a lot of money all in one breath, but really is not when you consider how much studio time costs and then factor in the cost of paying a producer and a mixer. This album marks the Blood Brothers' first concentrated effort. The song structures are still a bit of a mess, but there is quite a bit more coherence than in previous efforts This Adultery is Ripe and March on Electric Children. The barely-controlled chaos of this album keeps you on the edge of your seat. Each track is on the verge of exploding into complete catastrophic noise, but there is a single thread of melody and structure that just barely keeps everything together. Opening track "Guitarmy" is perhaps the finest 39 seconds of music (and a great AFP cover on NYE...) and is a microcosm of what one is to expect from the album. The track opens and closes with chaotic noise, but the main three verses have an identifiable structure and the song has a catchy tune. "Ambulance vs. Ambulance" and "USA Nails" give the middle of the album an incredible jumpy rush and demonstrate the fantastic balance between Johnny Whitney's falsetto-on-acid squeal and Jordan Blilie's gut-busting croon. "The Salesman, Denver Max" is a manic track that opens with a freak-folk verse that once again demonstrates the delicate balance between the two vocalists, while allowing you to briefly catch your breath. However, you know something more frantic is coming and the song is begging you to guess when it will kick in. Then just before the 1:00 mark it kicks in at and odd interval, catching you completely off-guard. The second verse continues with the folky acoustic guitar, but is accompanied by drums and an oddly contradictory funk-inspired bassline. These two offset styles once again demonstrate the very essence of what Blood Brothers are all about. Closing track "The Shame" sets itself up to be a somewhat predictable closer, with its slow-building verses and drumroll-backed chorus. However, the song completely delineates into a spastic drum and bass number with both vocalists screaming to no end just past the 1:00 mark. Then, just as you begin to expect the unexpected, the song returns to its original format, as the slow-building chorus kicks in, this time allowing itself to fully drag out for nearly three minutes, building up with gradually-increasing velocity, echoing guitar, more and more layers of vocals, a snare roll that is ascending towards a seemingly unattainable peak, background reverby "ohhs," all reaching towards a breaking point that once was unattainable yet seems so close now and all you have to do is reach just a little further and stretch out your arms as much as your bones and muscles will allow to grasp it, just a little further, you're almost there, your fingers are fluttering as their tips grace its surface ever so slightly and you're so close you just need to—

In all honesty, out of the Unholy Trinity of Blood Brothers' albums, I enjoy Crimes the least. I feel as though it is the weak bosom-buddy of Burn Piano Island, Burn. The album opens with the groove-heavy "Feed Me to The Forest" that lacks the punch an opening track requires (for this type of band, anyway). However, second track "Trash Flavoured Trash" helps to make up for this lackluster opening. A frantic track with razor-sharp, no-wave inspired guitar, distorted bass, and plenty of yelping and screaming, the albums suddenly appears to have gained its footing. However, although third track "Love Rhymes with Hideous Car Wreck" is a well-crafted song, it is out of place. With its subtle, melodic verse and repetitive-yet-understated chorus, it causes the album to lose the teeth and claws it grew during “Trash Flavoured Trash.” If Anything, “Love Rhymes…” is the type of track that should appear during the last half of a hard-hitting album and showcase the band’s ability to bare its soul and craft a more subtle, “romantic” song. However, Crimes is not that hard-hitting album. Its distinct lack of flow makes it my least favourite of the Unholy Trinity. However, that is not to suggest it is a bad album. It is still on this wicked awesome list.

What would turn out to be the Blood Brothers’ last album, 2006’s Young Machetes, wonderfully balances all aspects of the band’s musical ability. Rather than refer to thesaurus.com as a way to summon the most impressive multi-syllabic adjectives to describe this album and simultaneously impress and delight my readers with an apparent wealth of diction, I will reuse my discussion of Young Machetes from two years ago:

Lyrically, the Brothers reach a healthy balance of surrealism and kitsch on Young Machetes (as always) that causes you to ironically smirk as you ponder the benefits of doing psychoactive drugs. A fine example of this is on the track "Huge Gold AK-47"...Yes, the song is about war with imperialist implications in one sense, but the title is somewhat farcical, it creates a caricature of war. Lyrics range from surreal (yet still straightforward), "Those decadent war swans/With faces half drawn/Slinging blood-soaked carols at the slave ship sun," to comically over the top, "Huge gold Ak-47! Huge gold AK-47!/C'mon, it's 4 am, kick down the gate/And spray your ammo like champagne." By creating this type of caricature, we can actually take the song more seriously if we would like to...

On top of all this, the music just sounds fucking cool. Fast-paced, powerful, repetitive in a call-to-arms kind of way. It's music you can listen to on the subway and find yourself nodding your head, then moving your shoulders to and fro, then really nodding your head spastically, open palms banging your knees along with the beat, then in a flurry of self-consciousness realizing that you appear to other passengers to be having a seizure and thinking "perhaps I should tone it down a bit, they keep looking at me from the corners of their eyes," but then not giving a damn and continuing. Fuckers.

Beyond these astute observations from two years ago, I will also point out that Young Machetes is structured in the precise manner that I suggested Crimes should have been. The album opens perfectly with a powerful, fast-paced, energetic first half. The opening 1-2 punch (woo sports!) of “Set Fire to The Face on Fire” and “We Ride Skeletal Lightning” sets the pace for the ensuing frantic path that is to be followed. In fact, Young Machetes barely stops to take a breather. There are a couple of mid-tempo numbers including “Lazer Life” and “Life The Veil, Kiss The Tank,” but even these two tracks ascend towards a more intense peak during each respective bridge. Ditto for closing track “Giant Swan,” which beautifully culminates the album through its dark storytelling, melodic vocal line, and catch-you-off-guard bridge. Finally, rather than aim for the unexpected, the Brothers end the track and the album with a gentle wind down and a simple closing of the curtains. A wonderful way to end the final act of a fast-paced, theatrical album and ultimately, the band’s career.

A Decade Under The Taking Back Sunday Reference

2010-01-12T13:40:00.004-05:00

On Christmas day I began to compile my favourite albums of the 00's. Not necessarily because anyone really should care about my opinions, I mean we have the Hype Machine blog aggregator and the Conservative Party for that. AmIRight?! In fact, I began to do so out of sheer boredom.

Anyway, it ended up being a more daunting task than I initially assumed and have still not completed my list. Perhaps my commentary regarding each album is a little over the top and simply too long. I have decided to begin posting these albums in a few volumes as I edit the original entries (I was kind of drunk when writing them...)

Here it goes....

Radiohead - Hail to The Thief

Yes, Kid A is a fantastic album and certainly helped shape the course of alternative rock for years to come. One must not ignore its significance in the cannon of music. The true songs on the album are weird, organic, pulsating, yet still poppy enough to be enjoyed by many. There are a few songs that are inaccessible and break up the album. Also, it is a fairly short album. As the turn of the century occurred, I noticed a reduction in tracks on albums. From this point on the average album only contained 10 tracks.

Yes, "Idioteque" certainly is one of the best songs ever. Other standouts on the album include "The National Anthem" and "Morning Bell." However, it is not a complete album. It lacks a distinct flow. It is a collection of songs that don't necessarily relate to each other. Some tracks utilize electronic experimentation and very little traditional rock band instrumentation. Then suddenly a track like "Optimistic" jumps out, that sounds like the Radiohead of OK Computerand throws the album off course. Ditto for follow-up (or connected b-side type album)Amnesiac.

Well, check this out. 2003's Hail to The Thief has 14 fucking tracks. Guess what else, jerkbutts? It starts out with a pretty straightforward rock song, "2+2=5." Ultimately, Hail to The Thiefmarks a return to the experimental art-rock of OK Computer, but with a newly informed perspective shaped by Kid A. Kid A might be one the most significant albums of the decade, butHail to The Thief is simply one of the best. Hail to The Thief is a depressing album. However, it is the kind of depressing that forces me to acknowledge feelings of grief and sadness that I typically try to avoid. Listening to the album and facing these emotions make me feel alive and ultimately provide me with a bittersweet happiness that I will never be able to properly articulate. Ah, diddums.

Deftones - White Pony

This album will stand out as the peak of the Deftones' career. By far one of the most underrated bands of the past decade, the Deftones were unfortunately grouped with nu-metal bands like Korn and Limp Bizkit in the early 00's and sludgy, slated-to-open-for-Nickelback, pop-metal bands like Breaking Benjamin in the later years of the decade. I could go so far as to make a Rodney Dangerfield reference, but I won't. You know, Rodney Dangerfield? Really? Fuck.

White Pony is an album abound with the full breadth of Chino Moreno's vocal depth. He wails. He moans. He whispers. He screams. He even croons. All done so in his specific off-kilter way, where often you cannot tell if he is slightly off-key or hitting special notes that only dogs can hear.

The songs themselves reach far beyond the realm of metal. Yes, the chugging riffs are still present, but so are smoother melodic touches on tracks like "Digital Bath," "Korea," and "Pink Maggit." Ambient electronic flourishes complement nearly every track on the album and especially stand out on "Change (In The House of Flies)," "Passenger," and "Teenager."

Moreno's lyrics are as ambiguously cryptic and morbid as ever on this album and are even more resonant when sung in his manic, whispery manner atop a background of distorted guitars, ambient noise, and soothing beats. White Pony is an album that could never be fully comprehended by the Deftones' Ozzfest-attending fans and was written off by nay-saying elitists who branded the band as another rapscallion nu-metal group. However, White Pony is a progressive, introspective, manic depressive album that deserves deeper thought and greater recognition.

The Good The Bad And The Queen

By now, Damon Albarn is a household name even here "across the pond, in the colonies." If you don't know him for singing that "woohoo" song with Blur, you possibly know him for the many characters of the Gorillaz. If you don't know him for either of those then you're a jabberwocky.

What even less people know him for is his brief "superband" that was often referred to as The Good, The Bad, And the Queen. In fact, that is the name of the album released by the Albarn-fronted superband. The band itself chose to be nameless.

The other members of this superband include: former bassist of the Clash, Paul Simonon, who wrote and sang what is arguably one of the band's best songs, "Guns of Brixton;" former guitarist for The Verve (you know, those guys who "stole" part of a Rolling Stones song), Simon Tong; Afrobeat pioneer and drumming virtuoso Tony Allen. Together, the four men releasedThe Good, The Bad, And The Queen, a one-off album by a supergroup that feels as though it was written by a veteran band that has been together for years and put out a culminating album that brings all their strengths to the table in a perfectly balanced way. By no means is it a forced supergroup kind of album in which each musician fights to put forth his greatest strength, like those Chicken Foot assholes.

The Good, The Bad, and The Queen is a well-thought out, well-produced (by that Danger Mouse chap), and well-executed album that is never overstated. Every track has a wonderful hook that is not overtly presented, but is still prevalent enough that it politely tugs at your collar and forces you to nod your head. Tony Allen's percussion is often so subtle you barely notice it, but when teamed with Paul Simonon's reggae-influenced bass lines a solid, groove-heavy rhythmic backbone is established. Simon Tong's guitar playing is never too prominent on any song, rather it either adds ambiance or complements Albarn's falsetto piano. Finally, Albarn's lyrics (many of which were written with Simonon's assistance) follow a conceptual path, as each song is about a different aspect of modern life in London.

This album is the product of four well-travelled and extremely talented musicians coming together, putting egos aside, and simply crafting a fantastic piece of art. Spot on.

Class, the word of the day is "blasé"

2010-01-12T13:35:00.003-05:00

I realize this is an alternacultural aesthetic that all artistic, self-aggrandizing youths should strive towards, especially when someone nearby potentially has a camera, but I'd prefer not to look like such an androgynous, self-assured, vitamin-D deprived prick.

And now you do what we tell you

2009-11-24T16:37:00.003-05:00

I planned to use this post to review Welsh experimental rockers Future of The Left's new album Travels with Myself and Another. Consistent with my theory about artists from secluded and relatively marginalized regions, Future of The Left have a sound that could only really be developed in their peripheral territory—Wales sits upon the English isle proper and certainly absorbs its fair share of popular Western culture, but being an often forgotten country, I believe it interprets this culture in a far different way from a more prominent nation. Future of The Left's sound is a fine example: it easily fits within the framework of current music, but stands out and is not easily typecast.

Significantly, within the first thirty seconds of opening track "Arming Eritrea," I was immediately reminded of a band that saw much mainstream success in the 90s. The sharp guitar and angry shout of vocalist Andy Falkous is reminiscent of the leftist rap-metal of Rage Against the Machine.

Rage Against The Machine instilled quasi-leftist values in a generation of politically illiterate young people. They provided late Gen-Xers with the language to discuss neo-Marxist beliefs and articulate unrest with Western governments. Yes, this disillusioned generation could now discuss politics and look convincing whilst sporting Che Guevara t-shirts, but they could not debate on the issues—it was more of a regurgitation of leftist ideals. They were literate in regards to politics, but not informed. You cannot debate simply by regurgitating rhyming couplets meant to be rapped atop a nu-metal backdrop. Moreover, this generation then made the misguided connection between their own unemployed plight and "evil" policies espoused by Western governments.

There is such a disconnect between the initial message Rage intended to spread through their music and the message that was interpreted and then misrepresented by their fans. People under the age of 30 tend to lean towards leftist ideals. In a quote often attributed to Sir Winston Churchill (though there is much debate as to whether he actually said it), he states that "Any man who is under 30 and is not a liberal has no heart; any man who is over 30 and is not a conservative has no brain." That being said, Rage appealed to a generation of youth who already were preconditioned towards certain leftist ideals. It helped their cause even more so that this generation was suffering through the recessive economy of the early 90s and a shortage of jobs due to a combination of the weak economy and the fact that the previous baby boom generation monopolized the job market. So, the disillusionment felt by these young men and women (mostly men though....how many female Rage fans have you met?) then morphed into a neo-Marxist political agenda—but a rather misinformed one at that. It is quite a leap to go from a general hatred of working at the GAP to espousing the invocations of class struggle and militaristic leftist revolution preached by a guerilla leader who has become a marketable symbol.

Let us not overlook the sad irony that Rage Against the Machine became a working mechanism within the greater machine that they took aim at. As anti-capitalist as Rage was, they themselves became a brand. Yes, this brand carried a message of left-wing ideals and bemoaned the actions of large corporations, but this brand also upheld much of what it crusaded against. By playing concerts promoted by Clear Channel, selling tickets through Ticketmaster, releasing albums through Epic Records (a subsidiary of Sony), selling albums at Best Buy, and packaging these albums in plastic cases made in China, Rage Against the Machine sit upon the apex of hypocrisy. In their defense, guitarist Tom Morello has argued that participation in the corporate realm of popular music is necessary to properly spread their message to the masses. Although I do agree to a certain extent, this ultimately proves that the machine cannot be stopped, let alone raged against. Ultimately, Rage's message is as misguided as that of their politically naïve fans.

Also, let us not forget that Rage paved the way for the rap-rock trend of the mid-to-late 90s, an unforgivable act that spawned the likes of Limp Bizkit, Crazy Town, Kid Rock (in his pre-country days), Head(pe), and even old KoRn. Nothing makes one more constipated than old corn.

What was I supposed to write about? Oh, right, Future of The Left. Ummm...enjoy.

Travels with Myself and Another

Wipe Your Tears Away

2009-11-09T00:40:00.003-05:00

This week marks the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of Eastern European communism as a whole. As American sentiments would have you believe, The United States battled Eastern Bloc Communism and chipped away at its Iron Curtain propaganda machine and eventually won the Cold War, liberating Eastern Europeans. No single event sums up this freedom better than last week's MTV Europe Awards, which were held in Berlin.

Thanks to American-led liberation, Europe as a whole can freely hold an awards show that represents its ideals, musically anyway. Had the Iron Curtain never fallen, Europe would not have seen the likes of Katy Perry hosting its top music awards show. Nor would it have seen performances from Beyonce, Foo Fighters, Green Day, Jay-Z, and Shakira. Moreover, had America not freed Europe from the grips of Communism, there would not have been a Song of The Year award pitting the likes of The Black Eyed Peas, Beyonce, Lady GaGa, and Kings of Leon against each other.

Wait a second, none of the aforementioned artists are European. No, you're wrong, not Shakira either, she's from Columbia. You would think that Europe's top music awards show would aim to at least partially represent the continent for which it is named. I realize that American culture is renowned worldwide, but I do not believe that there are no European musicians who are equally as popular (in Europe anyway) as The Black Eyed Peas, Lady Gaga, and Kings of Leon (notice how I didn't mention Beyonce? I'm not going to even touch that one).

Well, at least Father Africa and The Kings of Ireland (otherwise known as U2) represented Europe with a historically sentimental performance in front of Brandenberg Gate, which served as a checkpoint along the Berlin Wall during the Cold War. Nothing says freedom like an aging band, who happens to be competing with Bon Jovi for a "Most Albums Released Far Past Their Prime" lifetime achievement award, playing a half-hearted rendition of one of their most powerful and politically cutting songs. Yes, a free performance by U2 of their 1983 hit "Sunday Bloody Sunday" in which Bono altered the emphasis on nearly every line in order to sound more like a diva had the streets of Berlin nearly as excited as when that famed politically divisive wall came down in 1989. If Bono's diva antics weren't enough to ruin the song and ultimately make you wish that the Berlin Wall had never fallen and you were caught on the Communist Eastern side where music, laughter, puppies, sole proprietorships, and bananas were outlawed, there was a special guest appearance during the song's bridge by self-proclaimed King of New York Jay-Z. That's right, Jay-Z tried to outdo Bono and actually make the song sound like audible excrement. He began a political freestyle that "name-dropped" election fraud in Iran and genocide in Rwanda among other worldwide political issues. Big-ups to Darfur, y'all. What up Israel apartheid.

I cannot even begin to address Bono's little rap near the end....

Once again, American culture managed to slither its way in and take credit for something in Berlin. The Iron Curtain fell because of a series of complex factors, the majority of which had very little to do with America. If anything, it was a softening of language by then-President Regan in regards to the USSR that was the main American contribution to the end of the Cold War. In contrast to the harsh words Regan had directed at the Soviets in the past, he adopted a more diplomatic and conciliatory tone in the late 80s. Beyond that, it was the revolutionary reforms in Soviet countries like Hungary, Poland, and Czechoslovakia and the bloody revolution in Romania that set the stage for the fall of the Berlin Wall and the demise of the Eastern Bloc.

One thing the Americans can certainly take credit for in Berlin, however, is the erosion of popular music and the tarnishing of a classic song about Irish civil rights.

Municipal Misanthropy

2009-11-05T18:19:00.003-05:00

The hot-button issue at City Hall this week is the proposal to levy a municipal sales tax to provide cash-strapped Toronto with a new source of revenue. Budget chief Shelly Carroll claims that Toronto is devoid of two key elements that other "global" cities possess: "A stable formula for sharing operating costs of public transit with the federal government, and revenue sources that grow with the economy." So, if the proposed municipal sales tax comes into effect, Toronto will at least possess the latter trait of Carroll's "global" city model.

Proponents of this initiative cite other world-class cities who long ago implemented a municipal tax. New York City levies a 4.5% tax on hotel rooms, restaurant bills, and admission charges. Chicago has an all-encompassing 1.25% sales tax as well as a 5-cent bottled water tax and a 9% fountain soft drink tax. These same proponents, one of them being former Winnipeg Mayor and potential Toronto Mayoral candidate for 2010, Glen Murray, claim that tourists should help support key parts of Toronto's infrastructure, like public transportation, through a municipal tax. Murray believes that otherwise, "Canadian cities end up subsidizing tourists’ transit rides without realizing any benefits."

Although I do support this notion to a certain extent, I find the timing of the proposal to be suspicious. Yes, a tax that only really targets tourists would be a wonderful source of revenue and would not affect Toronto residents. An additional 2%-or-so tax on a hotel bill will not dissuade travelers from coming to Toronto, but certainly will help fund municipal projects. Even something along the lines of Chicago's water bottle tax would be a great way to draw revenue from an unnecessary and environmentally damaging purchase. In fact, City Council missed a fine opportunity when it implemented the 5-cent fee for plastic bags this past Spring, as stores can use that extra revenue as they choose, rather than have it go directly to the city.

Ultimately, what draws my suspicion about this proposal is that it comes at the heels of another bold proposal by City Council: To take out a 30-year debenture for $600 million. Hmm. I'll let you make the connection and leave you with this...

Timing is everything

2009-11-02T18:42:00.006-05:00

A very unreliable source told me that in between The Strokes' 2003 album Room on Fire and 2006 album First Impressions of Earth, vocalist Julian Casablancas "quit drugs and alcohol" and that this lifestyle change accounts for how disappointing the third album is. I did not necessarily believe this theory, especially as it came from a college dropout Urban Outfitters lifer, but it did remind me why I should not work in retail, especially Urban Outfitters, and motivated me to work towards another degree (university lifer!). Furthermore, I do not find First Impressions to be a bad album nor do I believe it greatly differs stylistically from anything else in The Strokes catalogue, save opening track "You Only Live Once," which belongs in a commercial for GAP khakis.

Having only heard an instrumental snippet of Casablancas' solo album prior to its release, I concluded that the album would sound like a more electronic version of The Strokes. Considering that Casablancas is actually the primary songwriter in the band, this is not surprising. The majority of the songs in The Strokes' catalogue were originally written on keyboard by Casablancas and then brought to the rest of the band who would write their own individual parts based on the original structure. So essentially, Casablancas' solo album, Phrazes For The Young, simply avoids that second step in the songwriting process and takes a slightly different path. Every track on Phrazes is keyboard driven, often incorporating electronic drums and some subtle background guitar work.

Although Phrazes allows me to better appreciate Casablancas' ability as a songwriter, it still disappoints me overall. Without the extra elements added by the wealth of musical talent the Strokes possess, Casablancas' songs fall a little flat, with the exception of two tracks: opener "Out of The Blue" ultimately sounds like a typical Strokes song with its jangly treble-fueled guitar chords and jumpy bass; "River of Brake Lights" is a richly layered song, with noteworthy key changes, multiple arpeggio guitar riffs, and a heightened ending that allows Casablancas to wail the final few stanzas.

Although Julian Casablancas does have talent as a songwriter, he should stick to the formula that worked so well with The Strokes. Without the rest of the band his songs are undeveloped and forgettable overall.

Phrazes For The Young

Tough-Love Style

2009-10-28T13:58:00.007-04:00

It is an understatement to say that twin sisters Tegan and Sara Quin are underrated. Although they have seen some mild success in Canada, scoring a fair amount of airplay with 2004's “Walking with a Ghost” (not to mention a cover by the White Stripes) and 2007's "Back in Your Head," they have received little mainstream attention where, let's be honest, it really counts: America, fuck yeah. I could go ahead and hypothesize that it is because, in the pre-Obama days of intolerance and financial affluence, the music industry simply could not fathom a couple of folk-rock twin lesbians. They're lesbians, dammit! All those lyrics about love refer to the sacrilegious love between two vaginas!

However, I do not believe this to be the case. A listen to 2004's So Jealous is a hook-filled, pop-happy experience. Considering that those with the main purchasing power in the music industry are teenage girls (apparently they still buy albums), there is no reason why they would not have devoured Tegan and Sara at the time. Songs like "Speak Slow" actually are akin to a Kelly Clarkson number. Also, after perusing the myspace profiles of numerous (thousands?) American teenage females, I can safely say that they are open to dabbling in homosexuality (or at least some attention-grabbing form thereof). What really has stood in the way of their success is the difference between them and Kelly Clarkson.

Kelly Clarkson can write a solid empowering pop-rock number. Even I enjoy "Since U Been Gone," despite the text message-trendy spelling of its title. Even Pitchfork digs the song, considering it to be one of the top tracks of the decade. Oh wait, Clarkson didn't write the song. It was in fact written by Max Martin and the ominous Dr. Luke, two men who are responsible for writing some of the greatest songs in history, rivaling only this song. Suddenly a song about triumphantly overcoming your ex-boyfriend and then going shopping or something is less empowering.

Tegan and Sara write their own songs. Yes, they are lesbians. They won a competition in their native Calgary, unfortunately entitled Band Warz (what, no Mountain Dew sponsorhip?), at the age of 17 and received considerable attention as a result, eventually leading to a stint opening for Neil Young. On that Neil Young tour, the twins traveled to each gig by Greyhound bus. Now that's empowering.

The twins certainly could have toured opening for Avril Lavigne or a similar pop-punk tinged star, but instead opted to open for the likes of Death Cab for Cutie, The Killers, Ryan Adams, and Gogol Bordello. Yes, these are all highly reputable acts that certainly gained more notoriety for the Quin sisters, but keeping in mind that these opening slots were in support of the more pop-rock oriented So Jealous, they could have easily been propelled to stardom had they opened for someone more like Lavigne or even the aforementioned Clarkson.

So, I believe the real reason that Tegan and Sara have not had too much mainstream success is not a matter of their sexual orientation, but simply because they did not want to achieve that type of success—or at least not on any one's terms but their own.

After 2007's magnificent album The Con, Tegan and Sara have become more of a household name, especially in indie-rock circles. The album marks a great leap forward in regards to their sound, undoubtedly at the behest of producer and Death Cab for Cutie member Chris Walla. Many of the tracks are layered with multiple keyboards, guitars, and complex percussion. On top of that, the songs themselves are well-written, well-constructed, and well-delivered, which can only be credited to the sisters themselves.

I had high hopes for recently released album Sainthood. Although I repressed a doubt in regards to whether Tegan and Sara could repeat the bliss of The Con, I did not expect Sainthood to stray so far from the sound of its predecessor. Opening track "Arrow," with its layers of synth, distorted guitar, acoustic guitar, and start-stop rhythm actually acts to bridge the gap from The Con to Sainthood. As I initially listened to this track, I was pacified by the premature belief that Sainthood would stay the course.

Unfortunately, second track "Don't Rush" quashed that belief. Ditto for third track and lead single "Hell." Though I do recognize the obvious traits that make "Hell" a good song and an excellent single, it is the type of jumpy pop-rock that I associate with earlier T&S releases that simply do not appeal to me. From this point on, the album lacks any song I would consider notable, perhaps with the exception of "Northshore," which still possesses the aforementioned pop-rock jump, but the accelerated vocal delivery causes it to stand out, and "Night Watch," with its scale-splicing synth line.

The album is still an enjoyable listen, but a less thought-provoking and emotive one than The Con.

Sainthood

Hogtown Harmonics Volume VI

2009-10-16T18:55:00.003-04:00

Confession: Post-rock bores me. Yes, there is redundant beauty in the slow-building, moody melodies of definitive post-rock bands like Explosions in The Sky, Mogwai, Pelican, Mono, and even Sigur Rós, but at a certain point it is lost on me. Especially in the case of Sigur Rós, I feel as though not every track on a post-rock album needs to sound like it the soundtrack to a tragic, bittersweet film in which someone loses everything, but then realizes the true beauty of life and love at the very bleakest of moments (by the way, I am copyrighting that tagline.....).

The same goes for Toronto's own definitive post-rockers Do Make Say Think. I will admit, their music can be a good background while you clean your bedroom on a Sunday afternoon, but there is only so much I can take before feeling like I'm in a dramatic film whose plot does not progress fast enough. Will he ever put all those socks away? Is that a metaphor for the human condition? You're always left with one sock too many or one sock too little.

I rather prefer Do Make Say Think guitarist Justin Small's side project, Lullabye Arkestra, in which he plays drums and his wife Kat Taylor-Small plays bass. Beyond the obvious aw-shucks factor that they are married Toronto music scenesters who thrash together in holy matrimony, the band actually has musical merit. I suppose one could sum up Lullabye Arkestra's sound as a cross between two other prominent two-member bands, The White Stripes and Death From Above 1979. The bluesy garage rock of The White Stripes certainly is prevalent in LA's music, but so is the R&B-informed dance-punk riffage of DFA1979. However, beyond the obvious parallels to those two bands, LA also get pretty damn heavy and take cues from classic metal. The first track on recently-released album Threats/Worship, "Get Nervous," is far closer to a head-banging Judas Priest track than a comparatively candy-coated White Stripes track or a non-threateningly sexy DFA1979 track.

Furthermore, Kat's snarlish yet feminine wail contrasts well with Justin's more straightforward holler. The dual vocals blend well into the band's sound and make up for the fact that every song is a bass and drums number. Opening track "Son The Father" on Fucked Up's fabulous (and Polaris prize-winning) 2008 album The Chemistry of Common Life has the Smalls shout the chorus alongside vocalist Damian Abraham to excellent effect.

I must say, Vice Records has mildly impressed me with the release of Katie Stelmanis' Believe Me EP and now Lullabye Arkestra's Threats/Worship. Maybe those post-ironic pricks aren't so bad afterall.

Lullabye Arkestra - Threats/Worship

2009-09-29T22:35:00.003-04:00

Rather than write one of my holier-than-thou (or at least holier-than-Pitchfork) reviews upon immediate download of the leak, replete with fairly obvious observations and criticisms, I have waited until now to write about Brand New’s Daisy. They deserve better than a simple knee-jerk reaction of a write-up.

Here is a brief summary of my initial thoughts upon first listening to the album over a month ago:

Yes, the album is abound with twangy nods to early 90s grunge
Yes, it is some of the band’s “hardest” music to date
Yes, it is an album that begs to be played live
No, Jesse Lacey does not sound like Isaac Brock
No, this is not Brand New’s In Utero
No, Brand New does not sound like The Jesus Lizard, but the influence certainly is there

After reading a few interviews with both Lacey and guitarist Vincent Accardi (who wrote much of the album), I am no closer to solving the mystery of the country-fried vocal chords. What a caper! The album was not recorded in a woodshed emblazoned with the confederate flag, nor did the band listen to bluegrass albums during the writing and recording processes. Rather, Daisy was recorded in long-time collaborator/producer Mike Sappone’s Long Island, NY house and the band listened to an eclectic mix of music (including gospel singer Bertrand Brown, whose hymn “On Life’s Highway” bookends the album) that was available to them in Sappone’s basement. So, I am not quite sure what accounts for Lacey’s country cook-off vocal style throughout the album.

Although Daisy certainly is a hard-hitting album and arguably Brand New’s most aggressive one to date, it also features some of their softest songs. Whereas “Vices,” “Gasoline,” and “Sink” are relentlessly vicious tracks that find Lacey screaming the choruses, tracks like “Bed,” “Daisy,” and “Be Gone” are some of the band’s softest. The more subdued tracks on Daisy avoid the “classic” Brand New formula of building into a climactic, loud, crescendo of an ending and instead stay the course of remaining a more gentle song throughout.

The only typically Brand New track on the album, I suppose, is “You Stole.” Its slow building, palm muted verse is reminiscent of “Okay I believe you but my tommy gun don’t” from Deja Entendu. However, it does not have that deliberate, “this is the climax! Right….NOW!” aspect that the Brand New songs from days of yore posses. Yes, the drums kick in a minute or so into the song and eventually there is a more intense instrumental break, but the song travels along a specific trajectory that does not emphasize any one part too much more than any other.

In regards to the overall grunginess of the album, anyone who has seen Brand New live over the past few years should not be too surprised. The band has always tended to get quite heavy live and Lacey would always scream far more than on record. As I noted upon initially listening to Daisy, this album begs to be played live, especially by a band that puts on an intense live show to begin with. Lacey confirmed in interviews that one of the goals the band had in mind while recording the album was to craft an album that will translate well live.

Both Deja Entendu and The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me are emotionally draining albums, both lyrically and musically. The latter especially deals with dark, solemn subject matter (not to suggest that Daisy does not). Both of these albums are just that, albums—a unified collection of songs that have a cohesive, carefully thought-out order, structure, and flow. I do not find Daisy to be as much of an album as it is a collection of songs. I do not suggest that the track order was not carefully considered, nor do I suggest that it is not in fact a fairly unified collection of songs that are aesthetically and thematically similar. Furthermore, I do not suggest that one should not listen to Daisy in its entirety from start to finish. Finally, I do not suggest that the split apart hymn that bookends the album is irrelevant or not a type of unifying concept. However, Vincent Accardi (who, I remind you, wrote most of the album) is not quite the auteur that Jesse Lacey is. I mean this in both the lyrical and musical sense.

The Devil and God… has a narrative flow both in subject matter and musical arrangement (with the exception of “The Archers Bows Have Broken,” which I find to be oddly out of place). Ditto for Deja Entendu. I find Daisy to lack that narrative and thus lack in terms of its completeness as a true album. It is still a finely crafted collection of songs that is far better than most of the music that receives acclaim and success in the industry, written by a band that challenges itself with each subsequent album. One must appreciate the fact that Brand New aims to reach a different aesthetic with this album even if Lacey’s twangy vocals are not your cup of whiskey-spiked tea.

Daisy

Come have at me, I am strong

2009-09-28T02:30:00.005-04:00

Perhaps I have softened in my old age. I still stand by the adage that if you tossed a handful of Joy Division songs and a handful of Interpol songs in a burlap sack, shook it, and listened to said tracks in the random order you remove them, it would be difficult to tell one band from the other (I suppose you could also make a random mix of the two bands on iTunes by utilizing the shuffle option and setting specific parameters). However, the more Pitchfork turns its back on the band it once heralded as "incredibly powerful and affecting," I find myself developing a peculiar (yet still fairly small) fondness for INTRPL, OMG, NYC.

Interpol vocalist Paul Banks, one of the dreariest sounding men in modern rock, has released, yes, you guessed it, a self-indulgent solo album. What makes it self-indulgent? Well, for a start, it's not too far off musically from anything from Interpol's catalogue. So, why put out a solo album at all? The inclusion of nonsensical foreign-tongued rambling on closing track "H" is an attempt by Banks to disguise a brain fart as avant-garde dabbling and ultimately feels forced and, yes, self-indulgent. Another aspect of this album that points towards self-indulgence is the fact that Banks adopts a somewhat Eurocentric and off-puttingly punny pseudonym under which to release the album: Julian Plenti. Har har har. Despite adopting this pseudonym, Banks has made no effort to conceal the fact that it is an album by the lead singer of Interpol. He is in full view on the cover, all the press regarding the album has been sure to mention that he is the lead singer of Interpol, and, in case I have yet to mention it, the album sounds like Interpol. Or Joy Division. Or both.

What really eats at me about this album is that, gasp!, I kind of like it. With the exception of a few excruciatingly banal tracks, like "Girl On The Sporting News," it is a fine collection of sombre post-punk tracks. A good listen on a Sunday evening as you sip a glass of scotch and bemoan the dampness of your parents' basement. Yes, Banks channels Ian Curtis to the point that sometimes I think he believes he is Ian Curtis, but he does it so damn well.

Julian Plenti Is... Skyscraper

Revisionist History

2009-09-24T00:11:00.003-04:00

In a misguided attempt to bolster Russian national pride, Prime Minister Vladamir Putin ordered Russian educators to rewrite history textbooks to now refer to former dictator Josef Stalin as "one of the most successful leaders of the USSR." The new history textbooks avoid any mention of the mass killings Stalin was responsible for, the forced labour camps he sent millions to, and justify his non-aggression pact with Hitler and his occupation of Eastern Poland and invasion of Finland as "rational responses to a complex security situation." A false portrait is painted of Stalin that depicts him as a great national leader (not a totalitarian dictator) who defeated the Nazis and thereby saved Europe.

Well, this act of national pride building has got me thinking: why don't more nations enact this type of propagan—I mean, tasteful revision to boost nationalism? The following is my attempt to set the wheels in motion....

Mao Zedong

Great Leader Chairman Mao sent China into the future, making it an industrialized nation. He chased out those pesky Japanese and established a socialist state with a long-winded name, The People's Republic of China. He is said to have preferred to do much of his work while in bed (not unlike Silvio Berlusconi...hey-oh!) and essentially created what is commonly known as "casual friday," as he preferred to work in comfortable slacks.

Mao even listened to the opinions of the opposition, as was demonstrated during the Hundred Flowers Campaign, where citizens were encouraged to suggest how the government should operate (oddly, nearly three months later, 500, 000 of those who criticized the government during this campaign disappeared...but, with a population in the billions, I suppose it is common to lose track of a few citizens). Mao's Great Leap Forward set the groundwork for the American hippie movement (who doesn't love hippies?!) as small farms were merged into people's communes. Sure, a few (million) peasants died during the Great Leap Forward, but at least they died doing what they loved: working endlessly to harvest grain that would be distributed in urban centres and exported overseas, thereby leaving the peasants with nothing.

Beyond his triumphs in politics, Mao has come to be an endearing pop culture figure. Without him we would not have all those stylish graphic tshirts emblazoned with his handsome face, nor would we have the famed Chinese acrobatic trick "Chair, Man, Wow!"

Benito Mussolini

His Excellency Benito Mussolini, Head of Government, Duce of Fascism, and Founder of Empire--or, simply Mussolini, is credited with being one of the key figures in creating fascism. Without fascism, the European studies courses at university would be rather bland, so political science majors the world over should be thankful for Il Duce's contributions. Mussolini created the ideal model of a political flip flopper that many politicians strive towards to this day, as he turned a complete 180 from being a determined socialist to the father of fascism.

Mussolini also greatly influenced university studies for years to come as he invoked the works of Plato as the cornerstone of fascism. Like many students, professors and TAs in philosophy programs the world-over, Mussolini misinterpreted The Republic to serve his grand thesis: that Italy was in need of an undemocratic system of governance, run by a core group of elites, whereby citizens were expected to put the militaristic interests of the state above all else.

Finally, Mussolini inspired future generations of bandwagon New York Yankees and Manchester United supporters by joining WWII on the side of the Nazis when in 1939 a German victory appeared to be imminent. Let's be honest, who doesn't like to play the favourites?

Adolf Hitler

If nothing else, Hitler was at least the inspiration for a few hilarious gags in mainstream movies whereby a dark haired male somehow ends up with what appears to be a Hitler mustache and ends up at--get this!--a neo-Nazi convention or a Holocaust survivor gathering-type event (they have "we beat the Holocaust" parties, right?) and the resulting hilarity wins over even those do-gooders who still believe it is insensitive and politically incorrect to make Hitler jokes. The only movie that comes to mind presently that enacts that type of gag is the 2001 Jerry Zucker directed masterpiece Rat Race. With its all-star cast featuring the likes of Dean Cain (the Superman of my heart), Amy Smart (I can still picture what her boobs look like thanks to another cinematic masterpiece, Road Trip), Whoopi Goldberg (I wish I could picture her boobs!), Seth Green (everyone's favourite little pesky Jew...even Hitler would like him), Cuba Gooding Jr. (one day Morgan Freeman will pass the torch), the Mr. Bean guy, the Newman guy, and perhaps the greatest actor of our generation (and any other for that matter), Breckin Meyer. Heck, Rat Race even features an appearance by world-conquering superband Smash Mouth.

Anyway, I'm fairly certain that that (not a typo, two "that"s, you smartass) is Hitler's only contribution to history.

Hogtown Harmonics Volume V

2009-09-15T00:29:00.003-04:00

I briefly mentioned Blocks Recording Club in my post about no-wavers Brides, theorizing that the band's upcoming proper LP may be released by the Toronto co-op label. My half-baked conspiracy theory (based entirely on the fact that Brides are set to play Blocks' showcase at Pop Montreal in a few weeks) may have provided some with the misguided notion that Blocks is a record label that signs artists and releases, distributes, and promotes their albums. This is not quite the case. Blocks Recording Club is a co-op. The artists who release albums through Blocks in fact are part owners of Blocks. How does that work? Honestly, I don't really know. How does one get involved with Blocks? Yet again, I don't know. Believe me, I've tried to find out. Regardless of the cloak of magical musical mystery that Blocks is covered in, it is one of the more novel musical collectives in Toronto—not just in terms of organization, but the artists that are involved. Blocks has released albums from such notable Toronto avant-garde artists as Final Fantasy, The Creeping Nobodies, Fucked Up, and Nifty (Nif-D, Nifdee, Puff Dee Dee?) to name a few. To date, 57 albums have been released under the Blocks banner. This post shall focus on a few of those artists.

Ninja High School

I hate to be a standard middle-class caucasian (or do I?), but when it comes to hip-hop, I find myself with a rather limited knowledge and opinion. Sure, I can recognize that most mainstream hip-hop is awful, insincere, and part of a larger viral marketing campaign, but the same goes for mainstream music of all genres. However, even when it comes to more alternative hip-hop, I still cannot get my head around much of it. Upon my first listen to Ninja High School's We Win! EP, I could recognize the sincerity and the uniqueness of it, but dismissed it to an extent as "party music."

Subsequent listens have provided me with a better appreciation and understanding of the aesthetic NHS strove towards (I use past tense as the group broke up in 2007). The delivery of the vocals on We Win! are like a hip-hop version of Neutral Milk Hotel's Jeff Magnum. They are not particularly pleasant simply for what they are, rather they are enjoyable because they are so raw and sloppy.

The EP is quite a contrast to the group's initial release, Young Adults Against Suicide, which incorporates multiple vocalists, more intricate and varied samples, and more of a feel-good "party" vibe. The group chanting gets a little repetitive at times, but it still brings a smile to my face and that is one of the goals NHS had in mind, as they strove to create positive hip-hop music.

Young Adults Against Suicide

We Win!

Katie Stelmanis

At Fucked Up's most recent 4-day stint at Sneaky Dee's (last October), I neglected to pay close attention to the openers of the Thursday night show. I mildly enjoyed Final Fantasy's looped violin dittys, avoided One Hundred Dollars completely, and seem to recall heading downstairs for nachos during Katie Stelmanis' set. Well, after having seen a full Stelmanis set last week, I regret opting to punish my bowels rather than reward my ears last October.

Stelmanis was a member of now-defunct gritty girl group Galaxy and indie-gospel collective Bruce Peninsula. On her own, Stelmanis employs an idiosyncratic, almost conflicting style that pits computer-based instrumentation against operatic vocals. However, rather than battle, the two find a middle ground to work together and complement each other in a quirky and satisfying way.

In a live setting, Stelmanis performs as a three-piece band, with her on vocals and keyboards, and friends Carmen Elle on guitar/backup vocals and Maya Postepski (another fellow Galaxy alum) on drums/xylophone/backup vocals. This live setup allows Stelmanis' songs to possess an intensity that is not present on record, primarily due to the usage of triple vocals and Postepski's impressive multitasking on drums and xylophone (arguably stealing the show as she simultaneously drummed with her left hand and played xylophone with her right).

Stelmanis' debut album Join Us was released on Blocks, but her recent Believe Me EP was put out on, gasp!, Vice Records. Feast your eyes on the charming video for "Believe Me":

Hogtown Harmonics Volume IV

2009-08-27T17:36:00.003-04:00

In this edition I will share two rare albums, both related to Toronto weirdo rock heroes DD/MM/YYYY.

DD/MM/YYYY

Last Friday, August 21st, a momentous musical occasion took place as Toronto's own math-rock synth-spazzers DD/MM/YYYY played a "secret" set consisting entirely of songs from their first ever release, the very limited (150 copies) EP, The Real World Is So Unreal, which actually was a split with now-defunct hardcore/noise outfit Panserbjorne.

2004 saw a far different version of DD/MM/YYYY. This was before they played with Blood Brothers. This was before they toured North America and Europe. This was before they graced the cover of NOW. In fact, The Real World Is So Unreal features a lead vocalist who is no longer even in the band, Jonathan Macias (his current band, Revolution Love, makes me chuckle a little...get a load of that promo shot). Although DD/MM/YYYY has never been a band to hide behind subtleties, this first EP is quite a kick in the pants in comparison to later releases. It is an abrasive blending of shouting/screaming vocals, hypnotic riffs, and spiky synth.

Yes, the production is pretty bad, so you'll have to turn up your volume and ignore the graininess. However, it is a charming, quick listen and was both a literal and figurative blast from the (not too distant) past when performed last week.

The Real World is So Unreal

A Newfound Interest In Connecticut

Although a close listen to The Real World Is So Unreal reveals the groundwork for the evolution of DD/MM/YYYY we hear on this year's Black Square (which, I believe will stand as one of the best releases of the year), current DD/MM/YYYY members Matt King and Mike Rozenberg were once in a band that some might label (for better or worse) as emo.

No, A Newfound Interest in Connecticut were not the type of emo The OC popularized (and turned into a stereotype....and an insult for that matter). Newfound Interest wrote moody, melodic, bittersweet songs. They have a depressing, "emo" undertone, but songs generally are slow building and crescendo in an uplifting, triumphant way. They take cues from post-rock, post-hardcore, and yes, emo—but in this case I am referring to pre-OC emo, like The Promise Ring, Jawbreaker (before their Pete Wentzification), and The Appleseed Cast. Like The Real World is So Unreal, Newfound Interest is a blast from the not-too-distant past as well and reminds me of my first days of University, when I was a little cocky to cover up for how morally conflicted I was at the time. I shall stop there, though—I'm starting to sound a little emo.

Tell Me About The Long, Dark Path Home

2009-08-27T11:50:00.002-04:00

Your self-serving words are arresting compliments

You've imprisoned yourself with inflated ego,

Filled with embellished adjectives

Self-description; self-deception

We all waited with baited breath—

You seemed like such a catch

Treading just beneath the surface

Flaunting your fins

Now you live within a box,

Perched high as it may be,

Light will only shine on you

Once someone pries you free

Jaguar Starship

2009-08-17T04:37:00.003-04:00

I have found myself lamenting as of late over the state of music. This year has been a disappointment overall in terms of releases. Bands I used to enjoy and respect have put out lackluster albums (Taking Back Sunday, Thrice, Manchester Orchestra, Cursive, Thursday) and the current musical trends (I'm sure you're quite familiar with my mixed feelings about lo-fi, but what is this emotronic shit?) confuse and scare me. I feel like an old man who is afraid to leave his front porch because sinister looking kids are playing hacky sack on the corner.

One of my favourite bands of all time, Brand New, is about to release their fourth album. I am nervous. Obviously I am anxious to hear said album, but I am also concerned that it will be a grand letdown. Based on the first single "At The Bottom," I am alarmed. The lyrics are disappointing. I'm not quite sure why Jesse Lacey is vocally insistent on affirming that he is from the backroads of Tennessee (as opposed to Long Island). The sing-song chorus leaves a bad taste in my mouth—something god-awful and sugary sweet like cream soda. I will wait until I hear the album in full before I make any concrete judgements, however. Also, I will wait until that point before I shell out 30 bucks on a ticket to their November show at Kool Haus.

I recently wrote about Gabe Saporta and his downward spiral into self-aggrandizing pop-hipster irrelevance. As I perused the myspace page of a band I had high hopes for, I was painfully reminded of Saporta.

The fellows in this photograph are Johnny Whitney and Cody Votolato, members of Jaguar Love and former members of another of my favourite bands of all time, Blood Brothers. Jaguar Love started as a project featuring Jay Clark, formerly of Pretty Girls Make Graves, on drums and a touring bassist and keyboardist. Clark departed around the new year and instead of replacing him and venturing on, Whitney and Votolato decided to refine the band's sound to a more electronic one and simply play as a duo.

Interestingly, when I saw the full-band version of Jaguar Love last summer I was rather underwhelmed. They lacked the wit and edge of Blood Brothers and it didn't help that they were playing with The Faint. Not my scene, to say the least. However, the idea of them now touring as an electronic duo and playing songs from the first album "a bit different....almost like we remixed them" makes me sick. Also, look at them. What self-indulgent douchebags.

In more positive news, the other half of Blood Brothers, Past Lives, are nearly done recording an album. If last summer's Strange Symmetry EP was any indication, this album will be just the ticket. Please don't let me down Blilie et al. Please.

Hogtown Harmonics Volume III

2009-08-10T16:05:00.005-04:00

For this edition of Hogtown Harmonics I will focus on two bands I first saw play together last fall, but who have both been on the Toronto scene for more than a few years.

The Guest Bedroom

I have to say, when I first saw the The Guest Bedroom I was blown away. Vocaslist/guitarist Sandi Falconer has a powerful, almost intimidating voice (and a pretty badass name to match) that commands your attention. She also has awkward yet endearing stage antics and, just when you think you can let your mind drift, occasionally breaks out a saxophone solo. Yes, there is always a saxophone within an arms reach on stage. Whether deliberate or not (I suspect the latter), Falconer succumbs to robotic dancing during instrumental breaks that to the untrained eye appear to be mechanical spasms that happen to be on beat. Do not confuse this robotic dancing with the "way cool" robot dance that the rapping fellows do, Falconer's movements are as caucasian as can be.

Like in the majority of bands fronted by a female, the rest of the band is just filler. In this case I do not suggest so because Falconer has an overly strong, sexy stage presence. Besides the robodance and sax "shredding," Falconer does not say or do much on stage and generally dresses like "one of the boys" (tshirt and jeans). In TGB's case, the other members are filler because they don't do a whole hell of a lot. They do little to cause one to take notice—they barely even move.

Nearly five years have passed since TGB's first show and over the course of their career they have played with several notable Toronto bands: The Diableros, Spiral Beach, 10000 Watt Head, Creeping Nobodies, Huckleberry Friends, and Ancestors. Hell, they even made a video with medium-profile director Scott Cudmore.

As for on record, I do not have as many complimentary things to say about TGB. Last year's Treading Water/Blowing Smoke EP received lukewarm reviews from Toronto weeklies NOW and EYE. Each song has good intentions, from the indie roll-call intro of "Planted" to the waltzy jump of "Stranglehold," but I find that each track fails to build on the main hook put in place and loses me. Structurally, each song runs a touch too long (something I usually never say) and, especially in the case of "Planted," could do with one less verse or chorus.

Treading Water/Blowing Smoke EP

Ancestors

Not to be confused with the Ancestors from Los Angeles, Toronto's Ancestors pack a loaded fist of influences, primarily from 80s hardcore and 90s grunge. Yes, the Jesus Lizard comparisons are plentiful upon first listen. However, Ancestors' songs tend to be more concise than those of The Jesus Lizard, though I do understand the comparisons.

On the particular night I happened to see both The Guest Bedroom and Ancestors, I rather preferred the former. However, on record, I find the latter to be far superior. Perhaps I wasn't paying close enough attention or perhaps they simply were off that night, but I found Ancestors to be disappointing that evening at Sneaky Dee's. However, after seeing subsequent performances that faired far better and listening to their two EPs, Ancestors have won me over. Along with METZ, Ancestors are doing their part to ensure that early 90s musical aggression is alive and well in Toronto.

Nightfall 7" (2009)

Ancestors EP (2007)

I find it necessary to guilt my reader(s) a little with this disclaimer: The purpose of these Hogtown Harmonics posts is to highlight some of the finest (and some of the more mediocre) bands that are making waves in the Toronto scene. I am attempting to promote my fellow artists and introduce web-gazers to some fine bands, many of whom I know personally and consider to be honest, hard-working musicians. If you like what you hear, I urge you, come to a show, buy an album, a tshirt, a pin, something. As I know from my own musical experiences, every little bit goes a long way and there really is not much money in the music industry, especially for the bands I will be showcasing. The majority of these musicians also hold crumby dayjobs to supplement their income, live in shared housing, and can only afford price-brand beer.

health-related pun here

2009-08-09T17:22:00.006-04:00

Los Angeles has churned out a handful of highly influential DIY bands over the course of the past couple of years: No Age, Abe Vigoda, Mika Miko, BARR, and Silver Daggers. Besides their punk-inspired, DIY aesthetic, something else all these bands share in common is that they got their start at LA's now-infamous The Smell. One band that stands out from The Smell pack is HEALTH. If they are not already, HEALTH is sure to become a household name by the end of 2009. They have toured with NIN (and are about to again on NIN's "final" tour), gained quite a bit of exposure opening for Crystal Castles last year, and are about to release a sophomore album that is quite a bit more accessible than their debut. What makes HEALTH stand out from their peers at The Smell is the fact that their recordings are far from lo-fi. You can hear the instrumentation, as it has not been soaked in reverb. Also, their songs are not particularly catchy and, as the new album demonstrates, often go above and beyond the 4-minute mark.

HEALTH's debut self-titled album had a few tracks that clocked in at under a minute and were droning noise soundscapes, as well as longer "proper" tracks that were often rather disjointed and involved a lot of stop-start time changes. All this makes the album difficult to follow for the more casual listener. Get Color has vocals on nearly every song, which makes a big difference to those who don't quite "get" instrumental music, and slightly more coherent sound structures. Essentially, HEALTH tend to create what could be a computer-generated loop, but with live instrumentation (not unlike Animal Collective or, dare I say, Holy Fuck). However, unlike other analog electronica-type bands, HEALTH have more of an edge, a more intense live show, and are ultimately more interesting. Sure, they look like your average "hipsters" (clad in v-neck Ts and white-stringed American Apparel hoodies), electro madman Pictureplane is the opener for their upcoming tour, and they've been mentioned in Vice, but HEALTH are more than just some disposable hipster sensation. For starters, the variance in rhythm is difficult to dance to. Songs often explode into heavy bursts of noise that may incite some pseudo-moshing. Other songs are subdued sound collages with barely audible, echoing vocals. My point is that HEALTH are too musically talented, experimental, and complex to simply be a hipster fad.

Hey, speaking of The Smell, No Age is releasing an EP this fall. It is quite a bit more subdued than their past efforts and, quite frankly, not that great. Not to suggest it is terrible, it is just somewhere in between, causing me to lack much of an opinion. Enjoy?

HEALTH - Get Color

No Age - Losing Feeling EP

Hogtown Harmonics Volume II

2009-08-09T04:08:00.002-04:00

Before proceeding with volume II, I find it necessary to guilt my reader(s) a little with this disclaimer: The purpose of these Hogtown Harmonics posts is to highlight some of the finest (and some of the more mediocre) bands that are making waves in the Toronto scene. I am attempting to promote my fellow artists and introduce web-gazers to some fine bands, many of whom I know personally and consider to be honest, hard-working musicians. If you like what you hear, I urge you, come to a show, buy an album, a tshirt, a pin, something. As I know from my own musical experiences, every little bit goes a long way and there really is not much money in the music industry, especially for the bands I will be showcasing. The majority of these musicians also hold crumby dayjobs to supplement their income, live in shared housing, and can only afford price-brand beer.

Little Girls

When conducting a casual Google™ search for Toronto lo-fi bedroom project cum post-punk blog sensation Little Girls, I may have ended up on a Toronto Police Department "suspected pedophile" list. Thankfully, Google filters out child pornography and other smutty search results (though searches for porn staples like "black cocks" and "puffy nipples" bring up some excellent XXX sites). My point is that despite their blog buzz, it is hard to find very much info on Josh McIntyre's Blank Dogs-inspired project, at least through a simple Google search.

I find the band's name to be somewhat problematic for a few reasons:

It makes me feel a little strange to say it
When telling friends of the band, they are always initially skeptical or feel I have given them an opening to make a joke about pedophilia
There is not anything ironic about naming your band Little Girls—it does not make us rethink the naming process and/or the sociological implications of a name (I sincerely doubt that anyone, upon first hearing of Little Girls, expects the band to be comprised of little girls, nor will they find it very ironic that a band of grown men is called Little Girls)
Did I mention it makes me feel a little strange to say it?

Anyway, moving beyond my own hang-ups, as far as lo-fi goes, I find Little Girls to be rather unique. No, not because they actually stand out too much amongst their peers with sonic originality—the vocals are still drenched in reverb, the instrumentation is rather elementary, the songs rarely elapse the 3-minute mark. What makes Little Girls stand out is their live show. Generally, lo-fi bands are disappointing live. Wavves is a drunken temper tantrum-filled disappointment, Vivian Girls bore the shit out of me, No Age is always vocally off key. I find more often than not that the recorded vocals of these types of bands are buried beneath so much reverb because the vocalists simply aren't that good.

Little Girls actually are better live than recorded, which is a pleasant surprise. To begin with, the majority of the percussion on the two EPs I've heard consist of drum machine loops. Using real drums live (despite how mediocre the drummer is) gives the songs a new intensity. Furthermore, considering that Little Girls is entirely McIntyre's project and he wrote and played all the parts on record, it is nice to see a full band playing the songs so well and not looking too bored while doing so. What really makes Little Girls a solid live band, though, is McIntyre's stage presence. He bops around and lets the music take hold of him, even almost dancing on occasion.

Tambourine EP

Thrills EP

Like it? Buy it here.

Contempt: Gabe Saporta

2009-08-02T16:19:00.003-04:00

The idea of starting a band based solely on the fact you have been asked to record a song for a movie soundtrack baffles me a little. What's worse is when the movie is Snakes on a Plane (fun fact: Did you know that Snakes on a Plane was originally going to be called Pacific Air 121 and star Benjamin McKenzie...you know, Ryan from The OC?). What's even worse is when you keep this band and its ridiculous name years after the fact and release god-awful "ironic" songs that really just latch onto current popular musical trends but pretend to be ripping this music a new one.

Gabe Saporta was once the vocalist/bassist for New Jersey pop-punk quartet Midtown. Over the course of their existence, Midtown put out three proper albums, an EP, and a couple of split 7"s. Nothing would compare to their final album, 2004's Forget What You Know, which broke away from their usual emo-inspired pop-punk (though not too far away). The album had a certain amount of depth, with songs not simply about relationships. The few songs on the album that are about relationships take on a darker, psycho-sexual tone that again stands out from what their contemporaries were singing about at the time.

By no means is Forget What You Know a masterpiece or one of the greatest albums of the 00's, but it marks a shift amongst a handful of bands from that period who attempted to transcend pop-punk and create more meaningful music—Deja Entendu, anyone?

That being said, what the fuck is Cobra Starship? Gabe Saporta's post-Midtown project practically nullifies everything Midtown accomplished with Forget What You Know and essentially sets humanity back about 75 years. Also, Gabe Saporta looks and acts like such a self-important hipster asshole in his new band.

Forget What You Know

Hogtown Harmonics

2009-07-27T01:58:00.005-04:00

With the exception of Brand New and Radiohead (possibly Muse if the venue was right), I have no desire to ever attend a big-ticket concert again. During my teens and very early 20s (whoah, how old am I?) I must have spent nearly $1000 on concerts. At the time I enjoyed them, but in the last two years or so I have become quite disillusioned with and ultimately tired of large-scale concerts. There are too many sweaty assholes in polo shirts (no matter who the band is.... I can only guess that these concert bros all work for various cell phone companies and get the tickets for free), too many girls in tank tops who pre-drank a couple of bottles of Vex and thus belligerently shout out the band's most popular song (even after they've played it), too many sponsors trying to shove promotional products in your face (wow, a Rockstar Energy Drink rape whistle!), too many people in line for the washroom, too many dollars required for a beer ($7 for a poorly poured plastic cup-full of Molson Candian?!), and ultimately, too much hubbub.

As a result of this disillusionment and overall irritation, I have turned my focus primarily to smaller-scale shows that feature either under-the-radar touring acts or local bands. In fact, the last large concert I attended, sadly, was that Edge 102 Christmas-type one with Metric, Tokyo Police Club, Sebastien Grainger, and some other band I have completely forgotten. Needless to say (though I will say it anyway.....making "needless to say" rather needless to say), I did not particularly enjoy it and actually left after about three of Metric's songs (I fully missed Grainger's set....what kind of concert starts at 8pm?!), having only seen a yawn-inducing set by Tokyo Police Club.

In the spirit of my recent musical xenophobia, this "Hogtown Harmonics" feature will be a multi-volume cataloging of some of the finest (and some mediocre) Toronto-area bands I have seen and been associated with over the past year or so.

Brides

Originally hailing from Guelph, this six-piece avant-garde no-wave group appears to be the current feature flavour in Toronto. Their songs are heavy on musicianship, as the vocals generally are quite minimalist and turned down rather low in the mix. Dare I say, Brides even has a jam-band quality to them, as it feels like many of their songs foray into stretched out, somewhat repetitive instrumental breaks. In this case, "jam-band" is not to be associated with any of the following: hemp, ponchos, bare feet, dandelions, manic sexualized swaying, or Phil Lesh. The "jamming" in Brides is always tasteful and pretentious—the latter being what the Toronto indie community seems to eat up.

I first saw Brides last fall (after a failed attempt to see them at Extermination Music Night last summer.... the police shut it down literally as Brides were about to start their first song) at The Drake Underground with Tradition and Slim Twig. Then I saw them at Wavelength, open for METZ at Trash Palace, at 69 Vintage By The Pound with Gay Beast and Dead Wife, and possibly in a Doritos commercial. What I am trying to say is that they've gotten a lot of exposure as late. Some other notable shows they played: opening for Ponytail at Deleon White Gallery and opening for Abe Vigoda at El Mo. In fact, I am starting to feel as though this exposure morphing to overexposure. Come on, a show every other week? It's getting to be a bit much for me.

I suspect that they are being groomed for a signing with a record label in the near-future, hence their plethora of shows (perhaps with We Are Busy Bodies? They've played with METZ, are about to play a show with dd/mm/yyyy in a few weeks [shhhh, no one's supposed to know that dd/mm/yyyy are on the bill, it's a surprise], and have become a favourite of promoter-cum-art thing Primary Colours).

They only have one song on their myspace at the moment and have only one very limited release to date, so I would direct you to their CBC Radio 3 page to have a listen.

photo credit: Sombre Reptiles

EDIT: To begin with, Brides now have two new unmastered tracks from their upcoming full-length streaming on their myspace. As well, despite my speculation of the band releasing their full-length on We Are Busy Bodies, I will now speculate that said full-length may be released on Blocks Recording Club, as the band is playing Blocks' showcase at Pop Montreal in October.

World Map Forever!

2009-07-26T08:06:00.003-04:00

After months of searching, I have finally found Abe Vigoda's first album, 2006's Sky Route/Star Roof. A well-deserved sigh of relief and a pat on the back. You see, this LP only saw two pressings: the first being 300 copies on grey vinyl, the second 350 copies on black vinyl. That means, as I'm sure most of you calculated, that there are only 650 copies of this album in existence. It is essentially impossible to find a physical copy of this album (especially now that Abe Vigoda are at least mildly popular) and it is rather difficult to find it online (the few links in existence are dead and you cannot even purchase it on iTunes).

As for the album itself, even a casual Abe Vigoda listener will notice how the band has progressed with each subsequent release to a more accessible sound. Whereas their most recent release Reviver is well-produced, dare I say, mainstream-sounding bit of post-punk, Sky Route/Star Roof is a poorly produced (though I suspect at least partially intentional) bit of noise rock obscurity. In fact, the album does not possess nearly as much of that tropical jumpiness later albums are replete with—what I have come to associate with the band with overall.

Juan Velazquez's vocals are buried beneath treble and light distortion, giving his voice an edge that later releases lack. In fact, the guitars are quite trebly as well, so much so that you can barely hear any bass whatsoever. Tracks like "Hilarious Glowing," with its repetitive, jagged guitar riff that nearly sounds out of tune, screechy vocals, and bombastic rhythm are somewhat reminiscent of AIDS Wolf—only somewhat, though, let's not get too wild with our comparisons.

Allow me to gush for a moment: I love this album. In many ways I wish Abe Vigoda was still the band I hear on this album, although I realize that if they were I would probably not even know of them because they would not reach a level of popularity that would carry them far from their home base. Guff.

Sky Route/Star Roof

I think I've heard this before. Oh, no, nevermind, he has an accent

2009-07-26T00:17:00.004-04:00

This is Britain's answer to lo-fi. Pretty much every song sounds like the background music from an iPod commercial with a low production value. Regardless, it is mildly enjoyable in a small dose...which makes this EP just the ticket.

Is their name a reference to Wavves? Or, is it a reference to the AIDS Wolf album The Lovvers? Who cares, Lovvers probably won't matter in six months.

Think EP

Did E. Von Dahl killed The Matches?

2009-07-24T19:07:00.006-04:00

Call me a teenage girl (or Ewelina....close enough....oh!), but I greatly enjoyed the Tim Burton-inspired pop-punk of The Matches. Sadly, they are about to go on one of those hiatuses that I believe will really just stand the test of time as a breakup. Seeing as they have never been a band as lucrative as...say...Blink-182, I do not see a multi-million dollar, heavily sponsored reunion tour taking place in the near future. Or any future for that matter.

The Matches were a little too smart, a little too talented, and a little too late to reach a level of measurable mainstream success. Their whole Beetlejuice-informed neo-gothic image unfortunately came after Good Charlotte monopolized the pop-punk market with their pseudo-goth punk branding in the early 2000s. Ultimately, Good Charlotte tainted such an image with ill-fitting bondage pants paired with black and white thick vertical striped blazers, relationships with Paris Hilton, temper tantrums on Punk'd (one of the finest pieces of investigative television of our generation, it makes 60 Minutes look like geezer tripe), and a sudden re-invention as a nu-new wave band riding the coattails, slim fitting dress pants, and skinny ties of Interpol, The Killers, and Franz Ferdinand.

What I find to be most unfortunate about The Matches "hiatus" is that what will now be their last album, 2008's A Band in Hope, was such a disappointment. Sophomore album Decomposer (2006) set the band apart from their Warped Tour peers and presented a new take on pop-punk—that is, dare I say, a type of avant-garde pop-punk. The tracks on Decomposer still posses the necessary elements to attract teen girls: songs about love, sing-along choruses, quotable lines that could be used on social networking websites to sound profound. However, the tracks also possess elements of left-of-centre musical experimentation: electronic flourishes, intricate guitar riffs, key changes, and the usage of more than 3 or 4 chords per song.

The follow-up, A Band in Hope, ultimately does not follow the model built by Decomposer. Most of the tracks on the album are more straightforward, accessible pop that do nothing to catch my interest. Unfortunately, The Matches fell victim to their own creativity—Decomposer did not sell particularly well. This caused the band to scrap most of their original follow-up album, The Mad Silentist, and opt to write a more accessible album. Apparently, only a few tracks from the original made it onto A Band in Hope, which I suspect are the few tracks on the album I actually enjoy ("From 24C," "Clouds Crash," "To Build a Mountain").

Now that the band is on "hiatus," solo projects have emerged from lead vocalist Shaun Harris and lead guitarist/backup vocalist Jon Devoto respectively. Thus far, each of these projects sound like they are shaping up to be similar sounding to The Matches. So why go on "hiatus" at all?

E. Von Dahl Killed The Locals

Decomposer

A Band in Hope

Paralleled Support

2009-07-24T19:06:00.003-04:00

I started to read Adbusters in my last year of highschool. At the time I was in the midst of a period of political angst and my sheer ignorance on political events clouded my vision. On top of this, my father's newfound conservative religiosity further clouded my vision. I had a fair bit of trouble reconciling my Judaism Light (the low calorie alternative to Synagogue) upbringing with my father's insistence upon the unbreakable connection between Judaism and Israel--that is, any criticism of Israel is an abomination of one's Jewish faith. With my newfound interest in leftist ideals, I came upon a copy of Naomi Klein's No Logo, a book often referred to in leftist circles at the time as "the bible." Initially I found Klein's personal politics to be a bit of a conundrum: a young Jewish woman who is staunchly anti-Israel. It then took me years to make this startling realization: the entire left is anti-Israel. Only recently have I begun to understand why this is.

The recent comments by French President Nicholas Sarkozy regarding the burka, the sack-like head-to-toe covering worn by many Muslim women, may shape a new ideological war between the West and the Arab world. Sarkozy claims that the burka "is not a religious sign, it's a sign of subservience, a sign of debasement." Sarkozy's comments, although bordering on what many would consider discriminatory, actually are right on the money. Nowhere in the Koran does it explicitly state that women should cover any part of their bodies. Instead, the covering of women's heads and faces has been enshrined in the laws of Muslim countries such as Iran and Saudi Arabia--countries where women are essentially second-class citizens. Both of these nations have laws that are completely based upon Islam, so many inside and outside the Arab world make the connection between the burka/hijab and actual Islamic law as written in the Koran.

So where does the Adbusters clan come about in this scenario? Following the comments by Sarkozy, I have come to realize that the far-left has morphed into apologists for all things Muslim. Rather than defending the individual rights of Muslims who wish to freely practice their religion, even if doing so may be a practice of male subservience, I find that more often than not the left allows its anti-American agenda to overpower any rational debate on the matter.

When I first began taking an interest in Adbusters, I remember seeing a photo series on the magazine's website of a suicide bomber being thwarted by the Israeli Defense Forces--which ultimately involved three IDF soldiers taking the would-be suicide bomber aside and killing him. What irked me about this series was that it was presented in a manner by which the expected reaction of viewers would be outrage. I was indeed outraged, but more-so at the caption that referred to the bomber as a "liberator."

Rather than criticizing the West for its anti-Arab practices and standing up to defend all things Muslim, including suicide bombers, the left should align itself with Muslims in a different way. The left should unite with liberal Muslims (who account for the majority of those living in Europe and North America) to defend the rights of those who wish to practice their religion. Moreover, the left should act to remove the negative stigma attached to all things Muslim in the West. By essentially acting as apologists for all things Muslim, whether it be a woman in a hijab, the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay, or a suicide bomber in the Gaza strip, the left has made it easier for the West to classify everything Arab under the same category. A suicide bomber is not a liberator and a headscarf is not a threat to the liberty of the French Republic. Rather than counterbalancing vehement anti-Americanism with steadfast Arab support, the left should re-evaluate its ideals on a more situation-specific basis. Otherwise, they are just adding ammunition to the War on Terror's unfortunate offspring, the War on Islam.

Dead Idealistic Desperate Inventor Pioneer Philosophers

2009-07-17T21:00:00.007-04:00

The Strokes popped onto the music scene during the "The" band craze of the early 00's. Remember that period? The White Stripes, The Hives, The Strokes, The Interpols. I paid them very little attention, though I did mildly enjoy their breakthrough hit "Last Night." Then they blew up and I looked the other way. Well apparently they put out two more albums after that and, quite frankly, they are pretty decent ones at that. Ultimately, The Strokes are the definitive band of the 00's whole garage rock thing. Sure, The White Stripes are pretty good at it too, but there is only so much you can do with one guitar and an awful drummer. What's more, check out this performance on Letterman from 2003:

I can only imagine that performing on a talk show in front of a studio audience of fat sweaty tourists must be at least a little challenging, but they more than pull it off here. Such nonchalant swagger and effortless attitude. Remember that episode of Flight of The Conchords entitled "New Fans" ? Good. I have a similar reaction to one of the groupies on that episode when I watch this video: Strokes, you are a rock and roll band. Not only do they have all the moves down-pat, but the musical ability to back it up.

That being said, what the hell is this:

Yes, quite a teaser. Although we are played for chumps and never actually get to hear Casablancas' voice on the track, I can only assume that his vocal style remains similar to his work with The Strokes. That being said, this really just sounds like a mildly electronic version of The Strokes. No thanks.

The Strokes - First Impressions of Earth

Wooden Body, Metal Face

2009-07-09T01:57:00.006-04:00

The finalists for the 2009 Polaris Music Prize were just announced this week. The prize itself, established in 2006, claims to award the best full-length Canadian album of the year "based on artistic merit, regardless of genre, sales, or record label." Past winners have been artists who were slightly under the mainstream radar and not only crafted fantastic albums, are slightly alternative in nature (though not to the extent to be inaccessible to mainstream audiences), but could actually use the $20 000 in prize money.

The shortlist for this year's prize:

Elliot Brood, Mountain Meadows

Fucked Up, The Chemistry of Common Life

Great Lake Swimmers, Lost Channels

Hey Rosetta!, Into Your Lungs

K'Naan, Troubadour

Malajube, Labyrinthes

Metric, Fantasies

Joel Plaskett, Three

Chad VanGaalen, Soft Airplane

Patrick Watson, Wooden Arms

Ultimately I find this list to be commendable, if not slightly pretentious. However, there are two specific albums that stand out to me. The first is Metric's Fantasies, which as I have previously mentioned, is not so much an artistic endeavour as it is an album of heartless pop. Also, Metric is far too much of a household name at this point, they certainly do not need another $20 000. The second album is Fucked Up's The Chemistry of Common Life. I ultimately associate the Polaris shortlist with many of my U of T arts & science undergrads. Fucked Up is the only band on this list I could not see my thick-framed glasses-sporting cohorts being able to comprehend, despite the album's seal of approval from Pitchfork.

Montreal's Patrick Watson won the 2007 Polaris for his album Close to Paradise. Though I doubt the judges would allow a repeat winner of the prize, I would not contest another victory by Patrick Watson. Wooden Arms is another superbly crafted album of lush soundscapes, replete with dreamy vocals, subtle experimentation, and just the right amount of catchiness.

Patrick Watson - Wooden Arms

Fuck you, triblend

2009-07-06T05:11:00.003-04:00

Ignoring the fact that this advertisement blatantly admits the company's hiring policy (and ignoring the fact that I went on lookbook...), I know several people who have been "laid off" by American Apparel over the course of the last six months. How can a company that is laying employees off due to the dire economic repercussions of the "recession" subsequently be hiring new employees? It is not to save money (assuming that new hires would earn a lower wage than those who have been working for the company for a while), as all American Apparel employees make the same wage and the company does not give raises. So honestly, fuck off Dov.

Biased Review: NXNE 2009

2009-07-02T21:17:00.004-04:00

Rather than downplaying my numerous biases, this chronological review of nxne will hinge upon them. See if you can spot where they come about. The first five people to do so will win a Gwendolynn's Convivial Fête t-shirt, emblazoned with our corporate logo™.

Thursday June 18th

Chang a Lang @ Silver Dollar

Generally I am not a fan of feel-good, cutesy indie dance-rock. However, Chang a Lang is just too darn cute. They have the proper elements to generate at least a certain level of success. Singer/guitarist Brian Okamoto has the moves down-pat--at one point during their set he hopped off stage while ripping into what I would otherwise consider to be a machismo-fueled cock-rocking solo. However, he is so sexually non-threatening that it was simply a musical acrobatic feat that fit in well with their overall image. Bassist Jeanette Downing is the right amount of quirk and beauty to once again be sexually non-threatening--sure she's pretty, but not in an intimidating or directly sexy way. Beyond their look, Chang a Lang are simply talented musicians who have perfected the whole indie dance genre.

Pace The Stairs @ Silver Dollar

By far one of the most energetic and enigmatic performances at nxne. Are they post-rock? Are they noise rock? Are they post-hardcore? Are they post-grunge? The Toronto "post-everything" trio faced a few technical problems during their set, but always managed to recover. A broken cord resulted in the band having to cut their set one song short and enact some on-the-fly song alterations, but PTS pulled through and made enough noise to piss off the bouncers (whom I saw frowning and plugging their ears). However noisy the band gets, it is a type of controlled chaos with identifiable song structure and more musical hooks than one may initially realize--even the bartender was nodding her head to the chorus of "Petalogy."

Give Us The Daggers @ Silver Dollar

What's in a name? Not nearly enough. Give us the Daggers may have a good name, but musically they are as lively as Easter dinner at the Goldstein house, if you catch what I mean, you anti-semite. Frontman Scott Waring may have a good look with his flowing strawberry blonde hair, but there is only so much visual stimulation one can provide when he and the rest of his band just stand in one spot for 40 minutes while cranking out one dull 70s-inspired song after another.

Japanther @ Sneaky Dee's

Excuse my language, but Japanther is simply just a couple of fucking assholes. I don't understand what all the fuss is about them. They are musically untalented. They can barely sing. They are not easy on the eyes. Plus, during their set at Sneaky Dee's, the Brooklyn duo told the crowd to "fucking get with it" and "fucking come on" about 200 times. They are essentially just the Ramones.....if you took the Ramones and funnelled them through some ironic hipsterized electro-tinged shit machine, complete with frizzy hair and a hypercolor tshirt. Further proving me right, they briefly played the intro to "Blitzkrieg Bop" halfway through their set. What a fucking waste of everything.

Friday June 19th

Little Girls @ PreLoved

I certainly have lamented over minimalist lo-fi post-punk. It is a flavour of the....year, I suppose. It is difficult to actually determine if any of these bands have any musical merit when drenched in that much reverb. However, I will say that Little Girls put on a decent live show. Considering all the songs were basement concoctions of Josh McIntyre, wherein he played all the instruments and sang all the vocals, the songs have actually translated well live with a full band. Sure, the drumming of Anthony Gerace is juvenile (his drumkit: kick drum, snare, floor tom, high hat). Yes, the bass player always sports a polo shirt. And yes, the guitarist is really creepy, to the point that he makes me feel funny on the inside. However, this is McIntyre's show and he runs it with a surprising amount of stage presence. Furthermore, at an event sponsored by Steam Whistle, I was on my fifth beer by the time the band played, so everything sounded good to me at that point, including the raccoons fighting out back.

AIDS Wolf @ Sneaky Dee's

Unfortunately, this was AIDS Wolf at their worst. Not to suggest they actually played poorly, but the Montreal noise rockers suffered from a terrible sound mix. Vocalist Chloe Lum asked repeatedly for her vocals to be turned up, but to no avail. A band that is as loud and chaotic as AIDS Wolf needs the sound to be just right, otherwise they sound like a musical insane asylum (which, I realize, some may consider them to be regardless... oh, if only we were all as musically enlightened as I). I simply could not get into their set and by the looks of it, neither could they.

Mika Miko @ Sneaky Dee's

Perhaps they were worn out from the set they played two hours prior at Lee's Palace, but Mika Miko simply did not have it during this particular performance. What I assumed was going to be a girl-powered post-punk rah rah session ended up being a lackluster middle school pep rally for a team that won bronze. Vocalist Jenna Thornhill didn't even have her trademarked red telephone receiver microphone. For shame.

METZ @ Silver Dollar

The Silver Dollar does not always have the best vibe for a hard-hitting grunge/hardcore band. METZ overcame the venue and put on an intense show. Hardly taking a break between songs, the band cranked out one screaming number after another. Singer/guitarist Alex Edkins' convulsive shaking has become endearing to me after seeing them a few times now. In a city that has far too many djs and indie bands, METZ and Pace The Stairs are a refreshing (though incredibly loud) change.

Saturday June 20th

DD/MM/YYYY @ Horseshoe Tavern

Moments before DD/MM/YYYY started their set at the Horseshoe, their friend/manager/record label owner Eric Warner brought a bushel of two dozen balloons onstage. I assumed they were going to cut the string that kept them together and scatter the balloons all over the stage. Instead they remained in a clump snagged on vocalist/percussionist/occasional synth player Matthew Lyon King's microphone for the entire set and looked ridiculous. What was more ridiculous than the balloons was the fact that the sound mix was so awful. King's vocals were turned down so low in the mix you could barely hear him and despite his pleading for them to be turned up (at one point screaming "pleeeeeeease" repeatedly), it was never done. The band played well, as always, relying mainly on material from Black Square during their 40 minute set.

DD/MM/YYYY, METZ, Japanther, Spiral Beach@ secret location

Four hours later, DD/MM/YYYY more than made up for the botched sound of their Horseshoe set with a fantastic super-secret latenight show in front of friends and a couple of jerks who heard about it through the grapevine and spent most of their time sitting on a curb outside hating me for no apparent reason (yes, I'm talking about Ellyn). Once again, the bushel of balloons was present, but this time I didn't mind them, as those of us at the front of the stage were tossing them around. Despite the fact that this secret show was not overseen by a professional sound technician, the mix was far superior to that of the Horseshoe. Not having to impress critics or promote their new album like at the Horseshoe, DD/MM/YYYY played a set that was more diverse, with a good mixture of old and new songs.

As always, METZ rocked the hell out of the place and left my ears ringing. Their set wasn't any different than the one they played a night prior, but it still was fantastic. Thankfully, I arrived just after Japanther finished playing and, I would assume, sufficiently made asses out of themselves. The final band of the night was Spiral Beach. The band has been around for a few years but I had never had the opportunity to see them....and it turns out that was for the best. They put on a decent show, but ultimately I feel as though they are too much of a gimmick, not enough of a band. After three songs I had heard enough. Each song bled into the next and did not sound any different. The band is not as quirky or novel as their appearance would make you believe, they are a pop rock band in sheep's clothing--and a rather typical one at that.

Hell is other people

2009-06-01T15:57:00.008-04:00

In his review of Coldplay's new live album LeftRightLeftRightLeft, Pitchfork's Stephen Deusner philosophizes, somewhat aptly, that "Coldplay are the biggest band in the world because they believe themselves to be." Had I not dropped my minor in philosophy a mere two months into my first year of university (I don't need to pay for courses that cause me to overthink, I do that during my nightly bouts with sleeping disorder anxiety), I might dissect Deusner's assertion and prove it wrong using the Socratic Method (which would be done so through a dialectic email debate). To begin with, Coldplay is not THE biggest band in the world, there are a few others who could try to claim that title (U2, Radiohead.... album sales do not necessarily reflect popularity nor do they reflect total band revenue). Furthermore, the actual sentence itself can be looked at in two ways:

Coldplay believes themselves to be the biggest band in the world and as a result, the world has followed suit and believes this too, thus making it a reality.
Coldplay believes themselves to be the biggest band in the world and thus, to themselves they are, but only in their own reality.

Deusner's philosophical statement, whether correct or not, reminded me of a claim I recently made to my brother about Manchester Orchestra's vocalist and primary songwriter Andy Hull. After listening to their newest offering, Mean Everything to Nothing, several times I find that Hull believes himself to be one of the greatest songwriters of his time. How else could one justify belting out some of the most overwritten, pseudo-philosophical lyrics in recent musical history?

Opening track "The Only One" is a quick, musically upbeat way to begin the album. In fact, it is even a little on the "cute" side, especially for Manchester Orchestra. Lyrically, it is a relatively unspecific way of introducing the main theme of the album: questioning one's faith (especially that of a religious Christian background). No, they are not a "Christian" band so to speak, but Hull often refers to his faith and his upbringing as he does on the first track, "I am the only son of a pastor." Despite the vague reference to his faith and his struggle to reconcile his actions with it, where the song ultimately loses me is during the bridge. It is here where Hull begins to over-philosophize and concocts a poorly phrased existential dialogue that continues throughout the album: "I bet you did what you did when you did it / To do it again by the time you were done with it."

The dialogue continues during the chorus of second track "Shake it out," as Hull states "I'm done being done with the funerals, at least for now / Are you tired of being alone?" The over-philosophizing is not as bad in this case, but I still find it irritating––especially for what would otherwise be a decent song, a song that I think really begins to musically set the tone for the album. Hull begins to let his voice get away from him, as his emotive vocals propel towards a snarling near-scream before and after the bridge.

Once again, on the unfortunately titled "Tony The Tiger," Hull's existential ramblings sound more like those of a derelict at Dundas Square shouting something about the end of the world and Jesus, "I know you think you know / But you probably don't know." Seriously? Come on. Use your words like a big boy. The same goes for the bridge of "In My Teeth," which finds Hull questioning so succinctly, "What happens when I don't know what happens?" This particular song also suffers from a weak sing-song chorus that overshadows the dark tones set up by the verse.

Of course, all these lyrics certainly are a lot worse when read autonomously from the music. I fully realize that not all music enthusiasts have such high expectations of lyricists and are content with ignoring blatantly inconsistent lyrics that tread the line between being poetically and emotionally poignant and intellectually immature and can simply enjoy an album for its music. Mean Everything to Nothing is a musically solid album, with enough simultaneous sensitivity and testosterone to please most listeners.

There are many things about the album I find positive. Lead single "I've Got Friends" is an all-around good pop-rocker. It is wonderfully layered with dual vocals, synthesizer flourishes, and a full-on head-nodding chorus. All this crescendos during an intense second verse, as Hull's voice reaches that brooding snarl and belts his lyrics over a slightly subdued background scream. Also, the drum and vocals chant that brings the song back from the bridge is a fantastic touch. "Pride" is a fantastic slow-building grunge number that employs just the right amount of Southern twang. The lead guitar line purports a dirty, spit-when-you-talk, foot stomping Southern mentality that blends well with Hull's increasingly intense vocals in each successive verse. Title track "Everything to Nothing" is ultimately just a beautiful song. Lyrically it is plainly stated, not overwritten, nor overly contemplative. When the vocal harmony begins halfway through each verse, the raw emotion of the song is fully realized and allows it to come across as the album's most earnest.

If Andy Hull ever enrolled in a philosophy course, it appears as though he dropped it even quicker than I dropped mine. Had he stuck with it a little longer, perhaps his existential contemplation would be a bit more articulate and less repetitive. I realize that he is attached to the album title's philosophical conundrum, but it does not need to be emphasized so much. Not only does he use the phrase on the title track several times, but it also pops up in the chorus of "My Friend Marcus." It would be a far more potent phrase if it was not repeated so many times. However, as long as Hull believes it to be powerful, it will mean everything to him.

Mean Everything to Nothing

Tie your tangled tongue

2009-05-28T14:44:00.004-04:00

If there is one thing I have learned from Taking Back Sunday's soon to be released (June 2nd) fourth album New Again, it is that vocalist Adam Lazzara is not much of a songwriter on his own. If there is a second thing I have learned, it is that Adam Lazzara still looks really good in a vest. Despite the fact that the whole "emo" vest and tie alternative-dressy trend is long over, Lazzara still sports vests and still looks rather smashing in them. Back to my initial point, this new album features TBS 3.0, the new Taking Back Sunday operating system that has Lazzara as the sole songwriter and band leader. In previous versions of TBS, Lazzara had a strong male influence as his right-hand man, mentor, and creative collaborator. Apparently, as Lazarra has matured (he is no longer a visible mess on stage, sprawling around and missing half the lyrics, and he now has a son) he no longer is in need of a big brother-type of bandmate. Seeing as new member Matt Fazzi certainly takes a back seat in comparison to former members John Nolan and Fred Mascherino, my devious conspiracy theory appears to ring true.

Lyrically, New Again is rather weak. The title track album opener essentially has four lines that are repeated in a varying order about 80 times and cleverly reference Little Red Riding Hood. Except there is nothing clever about it whatsoever, "What long arms you have / All the better to hold you down." Upon the release of 2006's Louder Now, I remember complaining repeatedly that the lyrics paled in comparison to the previous two TBS albums. In fact, I argued that the majority of songs appeared to not really be about anything and served simply as collections of quotable lines that could be used on one's myspace profile to sound profound. However, after reviewing the lyrics on New Again, Louder Now is like Keep The Aspidistra Flying. Not only are the lyrics on New Again devoid of much meaning, they are not even poetically quotable, "I put my money where my mouth is."

The song "Capital M-E" could potentially be the most lyrically poignant on the album, as it is about former member Mascherino. Finally, a song that is actually about something. However, the lyrics do not really say much--this is yet another underwritten track. The lyrics do indeed articulate my earlier point that Mascherino was a type of mentor to Lazarra, "All I ever did was look up to you," and even takes a decent jab at the former guitarist/back-up vocalist, "Divinities fell correctly beneath / The receding pride of his twenties." However, beyond those couple of lines the song really does not say much....something about Fred being nice but then slithering away and that he is older than Adam. Ohhhh burn!

Beyond the poor quality lyrics, I find New Again to be disappointing musically as well. I find there to be little that is memorable on each track and any hook is blatantly obvious--generally a cringe-producing over-repetition of one line in the chorus, like in "Catholic Knees", "Everything was moving so fast/Everything was moving so fast." Furthermore, this album is devoid of much of an edge. Though I found Louder Now to be a lot more radio-friendly than past albums, New Again is even more radio-friendly as it avoids any screaming or designated "hard" parts. Now that Lazarra is a clean-cut fully functioning member of society, I doubt TBS will ever have this edge again. The only track that stands out is closer "Everything Must Go," which follows the format of past TBS slow-moving, dramatic build-up songs like "One-Eighty By Summer" and "My Blue Heaven." Also, the track has a half-decent chorus with an actual quotable line, "You quote the good book when it's convenient," and some nice high-pitched singing courtesy of Lazarra.

Oh how I miss these days...

TBS - New Again

2009-05-28T00:41:00.003-04:00

No matter what, this image puts me in a good mood.

Ride the rocket, you sick fuck

2009-05-26T16:03:00.006-04:00

I find that a mildly observant ride upon Toronto's subway system is like a brief history lesson on the countervailing visions of the future of the city's architectural character. Each station captures a specific period of Toronto's architectural history (as of 1954 anyway). Two specific stations tend to stand out in regards to this: Yorkdale and Downsview.

Completed in 1978, Yorkdale subway station provides a vision of what some believed the future to be like---in 1950. The usage of a glass dome, lots of chrome panels, and unflattering curvature makes the station look like some type of interstellar docking hub complete with a parking garage for your flying car, a vending machine that dispenses meals in pill form, anti-communist propaganda advertisements, and the underlying suggestion that blacks should stand in a different area of the hub from everyone else. I suppose that when architect Arthur Erickson completed the station he had an intense feeling of satisfaction and said to his associates, "We've done it. This is the future." Sorry Art, but you were a little late. The future called, it said don't fucking bother with the whole space hub design.

Just two stops north of the space hub that never was is Downsview station. Completed in 1996, Downsview was the first new subway station to open in over 20 years and marked a vast difference in design as a result. The station features quite a bit more open space, higher ceilings, and more aesthetically appealing design overall compared to most subway stations. Though I still consider this station to be one of the nicest the TTC has, I find it mildly humorous that a station that was thought to be state of the art a little more than ten years ago now is commonplace amongst most contemporary architecture in Toronto. In fact, I dare to go so far as to say that the station actually has a near-institutional feel to it, as many of the new wings of hospitals, government buildings, and libraries follow the same design principles as Downsview station. That's right girl, I went there.

Next week find my critique of art on the Sheppard line. Haha, I kid. I think I could do so in a few lines:

Remember those magic eye pictures? Now you don't have to with the tile art at Sheppard station. What's that? Oh, a farm!
The warped clocks at Bayview are reminiscent of Salvdor Dali. You know, if Dali sucked and thus was a low cost alternative to a real artist that was commissioned by a misinformed board of directors who decided to build a subway line that exists only to provide a transit link to IKEA (that still requires you to take a shuttle bus from Leslie station)
The numerous portraits of feet and backs of heads in Bessarion station remind us that we are all in this together...this crazy world....we are the world, we are the children....give peace a chance....do they know it's Christmas?
Many of the tiles at Leslie station are adorned with the text "Sheppard & Leslie" in varying handwriting. I commend the TTC for allowing a third grade art class to provide artistic direction in the station.

Hustlers Grab Your Guns

2009-05-24T13:28:00.005-04:00

I realize this blog has become embedded media-heavy as of late, but I had to share this shitshow.

I have never found Toronto's K-OS to be particularly interesting or inventive. Yes, I certainly do have a bias against most hip hop, but I have never found the force-fed inclusion of indie-rock and jazz touches in a few of K-OS's songs to be particularly novel. Such ideas have been prevalent in hip hop for years (primarily, I suspect, as a ploy to reach a wider audience). Remember when Jimmy Page played the "Kashmir" riff on Puff Daddy-P. Diddy-Papa Roach Daddy-Puff Man Jenkins-Diddy Do Daddy's "Come With Me" ? Unfortunately, I do.

Further proof of how unimpressed I am with K-OS: Sir Sebastien Grainger himself played drums on the track "Sunday Morning" (and appeared in the video, where both men appear initially wearing Canada Goose down parkas, which, in case you haven't already learned, fucking suck), yet the rapper still does not get my seal of approval.

It would simply be in bad taste on its own for K-OS to "sample" Phantom Planet's "California." This was the band's biggest hit and everyone with even the slightest interest in music over the past ten years is at least mildly familiar with said song. However, the fact that the song (or a heavily spliced version thereof) was used as the theme song to The OC makes K-OS's usage of it pathetic. Furthermore, name-dropping Natalie Portman? Come on. Apparently it is über-trendy to use Natalie Portman's name (for example, lamecore band Natalie Portman's Shaved Head), but K-OS is not going for trendy, nor is he simply name-dropping. When asked about the song, he had this to say:

"KRS-One said that verbal magic has the ability to allow its user to 'rap' their way into a new reality. So, I'm trying to make things happen. I happen to love what that woman represents and Star Wars, of course."

I stand corrected. I never realized K-OS was a magician. This is probably all just an illusion where he makes us think that he is a hack and suddenly the true artist is revealed. Oh K-OS, you are magnificent.

John Galliano needs a better tailor

2009-05-23T00:03:00.006-04:00

I only saw about fifteen minutes of The Devil Wears Prada, mostly in hopes of getting another quick glimpse of Anne Hathaway's rack, like in Brokeback Mountain (I certainly did not watch the latter in sweaty anticipation of an explicit romp between the film's two leading men... a romp so homoerotic it could give me goosebumps... two men touching each other physically and emotionally in ways a woman never could... or something), during which time I learned the following: Anne Hathaway has had too much mainstream success to ever show her breasts on film again (until she does an "edgy" film in a few years to show she is still "real") and Anna Wintour is apparently an icy bitch.

Although this 60 Minutes interview did provide me with some interesting points regarding Wintour's iron grip of Vogue and moreover, the fashion industry as a whole, what I found most interesting was the fact that Morley Safer is still alive and kicking and landing pretty decent interviews. I mean, did you hear the guy? He sounds like he has already picked out his casket and made the necessary arrangements for his funeral, down to the last l'chaim. His comparison of runway models to cadavers could be taken as an ironic joke.

Ultimately, what I really took from this segment is as follows:

1. Anna Wintour acknowledges people on elevators

2. Little bob haircuts are still cool, even when the sides of the hair style are curved too far towards your mouth, causing you to constantly get hair in your mouth

3. John Galliano is in need of a good tailor, Karl Lagerfeld already has one

Coldplay/Romo Roto Mashup?

2009-05-09T20:29:00.002-04:00

As far as mainstream radio-friendly Gossip Girl-approved music goes, I don't mind this White Rabbits Track. I kept expecting the song to "kick in" with full drums and irritating wailing from the singer about "missing you, girl," but thankfully it never came. The usage of such simplified, almost tribal double drumming reminded me of a band I have had the privilege of seeing a few times around town.

If that Girl Talk guy was well-versed enough in the underground music scene, he'd be kicking himself right now for not thinking of this mashup. For the rest of you, I will fill you in just in case: Romo Roto features a member of Toronto's dd/mm/yyyy and a member of the city's box-rocking girrrrrrrls Machetes. Together they play a purely drum and vocals brand of music that is as refreshing as it is unique--sort of like Fresca. Find their homemade CDR EP linked (and feel privileged, as it is uber-limited y'alls).

Romo Roto - I Am The Fight

Traitor

2009-05-08T12:47:00.002-04:00

Overall, I have been a staunch Obama supporter. When he smoked, I held my breath and looked the other way. When he started flapping his ears in an attempt to fly, I heralded it an environmentally sound way to travel. When his Air Force One plane had a lookbook photoshoot over Manhattan that many feared was actually another 9/11, I defended him vehemently by saying, "How else will the picture make the front page of the site? People don't just charitably hype you."

No, his economic stimulus package has not yet given much bloodflow to the market's flaccid penis. No, the troops have not yet withdrawn from Iraq. However, he did get a puppy for the Whitehouse. Also, he certainly showed his patriotism yesterday during lunch with Vice President Biden, as Obama ordered a cheeseburger.

However, something was amiss at this presumably all-American lunch. Obama betrayed the American public with just a few damning words: "I can haz dijonz?" That's right, not only did the President reference a faddish website about cats, but he asked for faggy French spicy mustard for his burger. You don't win wars with the French as an ally and you don't top hamburgers with French mustard. Would you like to know what John McCain has on his burger? Nothing. It gives him indigestion and bad gas all afternoon. That's the American way.

2009-05-03T17:55:00.002-04:00

Sure, Hipster Runoff was cute for a little while back in 2k8, but Lennon was the definitive post-ironic hipster (until he started giving peace a chance, anyway).

A flu by any other name...

2009-05-03T16:17:00.004-04:00

I think it's a well-known fact by now (perpetuated by such bona-fide yid celebrities as Jason Biggs and Adam Brody) that, as a stereotypical whole, Jews are the neurotic black sheep of society, who will "Bahhhh" only when there's something to kvetch about, or when the caller ID displays their mother's number. Being raised in a pseudo-Jewish home by parents who would contradict their beliefs every fifteen minutes ("No, no, it's okay to eat shrimp as long as plastic utensils and paper plates are used...it was in the Torah"), I have immersed myself enough in the Jewish community and Jewish history to conclude that there is NOTHING that accounts for the neuroses of the average Jew. It's not like each preceding generation has had much war, persecution, mass killings, or Woody Allen films plaguing it. Ultimately, the biggest problem facing the average jew is what to do with all of the Jew Gold (or Gelt) one has accumulated from such momentous occasions as Bar/Bat Mitzvahs, finding the afikoman, and Ben Stiller Day.

That being said, Israeli Health Minister Ya'acov Litzman's decision to refer to Swine Flu as Mexico Flu in all official government documentation is doing little to break the stereotype. Oy vei, yes, jews don't eat pork (unless it is done so with plastic utensils on a paper plate), but really, stop kvetching and just call it what the rest of the world calls it. Your people have been marginalized enough over the years, don't give the mighty Mexicans a reason to shun you as well. Israeli-Mexican relations should be a top agenda for the Israeli government, far above that Gaza Strip thing and organizing the Ben Stiller Day Parade.

What What and such.

2009-04-25T16:51:00.002-04:00

Initially, I was concerned that kids were being sent the wrong message about a most likely unattainable life of ghetto glitz and glamour, paid for by misogynistic lyrics, endorsement deals with failing auto companies, and appearances on MTV's Cribs. However, once you're 8 years old, you are well-grounded enough to realize that these phony grillz are simply a novelty item and by no means represent the various taboos of the hip hop industry.

The ghosts regarded

2009-04-25T00:28:00.002-04:00

Sebastien Grainger - It's a Living

Mice. Rabbits. Cats. Canines.

2009-04-19T17:42:00.004-04:00

I had the pleasure this past weekend of attending dd/mm/yyyy's Black Square release show at Lee's. About a month ago I was on the verge of adopting a blasé attitude towards the Toronto art-punk math-rock quintet, primarily on account of my few awkward meetings with vocalist/guitarist/occasional percussionist Tomas del Balso, which consisted of conversations that made me feel like too much of a fanboy, and that unfortunate Toronto hipster attitude to shun anything local.

Thankfully, I have moved far past that stiff-lipped (.com) arrogance.

I will go ahead and state that Black Square is my favourite album of 2009 thus far. That is a rather bold statement considering that I have had a leak of Manchester Orchestra's Mean Everything to Nothing in my digitally-rendered hands for a month or so now. Not to suggest that the Manchester Orchestra album is by any means disappointing--I simply have been blown away by Black Square.... and I maaaaayyyyy have set the bar a little high for Mean Everything to Nothing.

dd/mm/yyyy perfectly captured the upbeat tempo of Black Square at Thursday's release show. They played incessantly, rarely pausing to catch a breath in between songs. It also helped that note for note they sounded spot-on, the overall mix was fantastic (especially for Lee's Palace, which generally disappoints me), I had a perfect spot elevated slightly beside the stage, and the place was packed.

Opening band Metz did not disappoint either. The Toronto three-piece has surfaced on the music scene at the perfect time, as their hardcore grunge is a refreshing kick in the pants amidst the lo-fi bullshit everyone pretends to like.

As a gift to my loyal reader(s), I will grant you the opportunity to listen to dd/mm/yyyy's 2007 album Are They Masks?, a 20-track opus that is quite a bit stylistically different from Black Square. The songs are a little less structured and accessible and essentially remind me of an intoxicated version of The Chinese Stars.

dd/mm/yyyy - Are They Masks?

The elusive larrikin, the observant outsider

2009-04-12T15:11:00.006-04:00

Siblings Angus and Julia Stone surely were bred on some type of Australian commune far from the maniacal grasps of mainstream society. They certainly were unaware of television growing up, only read fairy tales, and probably were only allowed to watch one silent French film a week (projected onto a barren wooden wall using their father's turn of the century projector), only after six hours of harpsichord practice followed by two hours of theoretical string arrangement.

Their music has an angelic, warm fuzzy-inducing innocence that soothes you down to the core. Perfectly compliments a Sunday evening at dusk, as you sip tea and try not to look directly into the sun because your Mother's voice is still in the back of your head (and then you realize your Mother is actually standing behind you, telling you not to look directly into the sun...go inside, Mom, dinner's not going to cook itself).

Beyond the beauty of their music, Angus and Julia are, well, beautiful. Angus resembles a handsome drifter, with just the right amount of scraggly ruggedness. He is the type of man who mysteriously knocks at your door, in need of a place to sleep and perhaps a hot meal. You are initially a little skeptical due to his long hair and puffy beard. However, within the first hour he fixes the stove, teaches your children how to whittle, sings your constantly crying baby to sleep, and reminds you and your husband/wife/mistress why you fell in love (done so through some possibly fictitious "true story" told over dinner). Julia resembles a Shakespearean heroine, but one of the foxier, more self-aware ones who is able to fend for herself. Initially, she is set to marry some spoiled brat Prince, but learns of his devious plans to marry her and ultimately whore her out to the village in order to earn enough money to build a fantastical flying boat that will take him to the moon. She outwits the Prince by framing him for the murder of his own Uncle (who happened to just die of natural causes) and he is then imprisoned for life.

Angus and Julia Stone - A Book Like This

Palestinians on Speakerphone vs HIV Marmot

2009-04-06T18:55:00.000-04:00

A friend of mine recently described now-defunct Rhode Island noise rock nudists Arab on Radar as "AIDS Wolf, but good." The unfortunately diseased Canidae he utilized for this comparison is the provocatively-named Montréal noise thrash band.

Unfortunately, Arab on Radar broke up a little before my time (2003 to be exact...not that I was not yet into music at that time, I simply could not comprehend noise rock back then) and I never had the chance to see their chaotic live performances (that apparently were replete with nudity). On the other hand, I have had the deafening pleasure of seeing AIDS Wolf a few times now and have left each show with a sore body and ringing ears. I am unsure of the long-term effects to my overall health these shows have spawned, but I hope when I sit in my rocking chair in Boca and have to say "what?" more than Small John, Disreputable Big, and all those other rapping fellows I will believe the hearing loss to be worth it.

I do not believe Arab on Radar to be a "better" AIDS Wolf. Yes, they both employ spiraling, heavily distorted guitars, screeching vocals, and vertigo-inducing stop-start rhythm, but I find it difficult to compare the two bands. In fact, I liken Arab on Radar more to the Mae-Shi if anyone. But who am I to judge? Decide for yourself, you blog-gazing scoundrel!

Arab on Radar - Yahweh or The Highway

Arab on Radar - Rough Day at The Orifice

AIDS Wolf - Cities of Glass

AIDS Wolf - The Lovvers

SQUEEZE AWAY, BITCHES, THAT'S HOW I ROLL

2009-04-04T16:31:00.000-04:00

DOG, DARRYL, LISTEN UP MAN. YES, I KNOW YOU ONLY WANT TO BE CALLED THE D-DOG OR DOUBLE-D, BUT DAVE BEAT YOU TO IT, BRO. FUCK MAN, PUT DOWN THE JAGER AND CHECK THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE. WHAT? NO, TURN DOWN "BICYCLE RACE" AND COME HERE. HAHA, NO, I'M NOT GONNA COCK-SLAP YOU AGAIN, BRAH.

ANYWAY MAN, CHECK THIS SHIT. FUCK COORS LIGHT. FUCK JAGERBOMBS. FUCK REV, VEX, ZIMA, 100-PROOF JAMAICAN RUM MY DAD GOT AT THE ALL-INCLUSIVE WITH HIS SECRETARY, ALL THAT SHIT IS GAY NOW. I PICKED UP A FUCKING SIXER OF BURGER SHOTS, BRO. LET'S DOWN THESE PUPPIES! YEEEAHHH. THEN LET'S PARTY IT UP, I GOT THE NEW MSTTARHDAKAHGCCRTF CD. NO DOG, IT'S NOT GAY DANCE MUSIC, IT'S THAT MUSTACHE GUY FROM DRAFT PUNX OR SOMETHING.

Won't you join me upon the balustrade, darling?

2009-03-22T17:25:00.000-04:00

As I perused the aisles of Loblaws this fine sun-filled afternoon, I was greatly pacified by my discovery of a particular line of products. Loblaws now proudly carries select juices by Genesis Today. My personal favourite is Noni100, made from 100% pure wild-grown and harvested Noni juice, which according to the fine people at Genesis Today grows only in remote volcanic regions. mmmm volcanic lava fruit.

Upon visiting Genesis Today's website, my initial suspicion that the company is somehow linked to Scientology or some equally creepy pseudo-religious group (Mormons, Battlestar Galactica Fanclub) was only strengthened. The poor layout, misguided colour scheme, and insistence on the ominous Dr. Lindsey's expert analyses are all web-cult signs. Or at least signs of a pyramid scheme or a penis enlargement pill company.

At a price tag of over $50 for a 946ml bottle (also, 946ml? what an odd quantity...I would assume it is some type of cosmically significant number that relates to humanity's certain doom), one might say that Genesis Today is rather audacious for selling such expensive goods during an economic downturn. Personally, I salute them. Whether the economy is recessive or not, cult members need sustenance from their daily intake of Goji100.