postpunkdiary

Bestiary

2005-12-29T06:20:00.000-08:00

I hate music reviews. I love music reviews. I hate them when they miss the point, drown in their own verbosity and are more about the reviewer than the artist. I also hate it when they burst my bubble. I love music reviews that make me think, challenge my expectations and lead me to other artists and genres. I've heard people disparage websites like www.pitchforkmedia.com, citing the oh-so-hip writing, the archness, the insularity. Sure there's a fair bit of it, but as a reference point for the acceptable face of indie/alternative/underground music it's not bad. As someone approaching 50 (the new 40 by the way) I appreciate reviewers who love the music they write about, who have extensive knowledge and insight of 20th century artists and throw in a laugh now and again. Every musical era has it's keepers. People who actually transcend the scenes they may or may not have been a part of. 15 years from now when the Arcade Fire and Wolf Parade do a reunion tour, there we'll be, snatching back pieces of our youth, and loving the sound again for what it is. Heaven.

Year of the Dog

2005-12-24T19:33:00.000-08:00

Woof. That's me, the dog. Loyal and friendly....until you step on my tail....that's when I rip your throat out. Here's a year-end list of my favorites past, present and future. Indulge.
Art Brut/Arcade Fire/Bloc Party/Broken Social Scene/M.I.A./Black Mountain/Stars/Love and Rockets/Cowboys International/The Passage/Boards of Canada/Isolee/DJ Dangermouse/Kraftwerk/Talk Talk/System of a Down/Jem/Missy/The Streets/Nappy Roots/Bright Eyes/Gang of Four/The Modernettes/X/LCD Soundsystem/Yeah Yeah Yeahs/Go Team/Metric/Young Marble Giants/Wedding Present/Public Enemy/Meat Beat Manifesto/Death from Above 1979/Massive Attack/King Crimson/Secret Machines/Amon Duul/Public Image Ltd. and so on and so forth. Amen.

Pins and Needles

2005-12-07T21:48:00.000-08:00

Wake up. Wake up. Has the back of your head ever fallen asleep? When it slowly starts to wake up the creepiest feeling ensues.
D.O.A. are re-releasing their 'War on 45' album with a few new tracks. Sweet. The songs are still pertinent today, what with the load of bollocks spewing from a certain American administration. If things go in cycles as they seem to we should be rid of the slimy war-loving bunch in about 3 years. Unless the boot comes down a little harder between then and now. 25 years ago we had Reagan and his fucked up policies, now we've got the Bush cabal raping and pillaging. Cycles. I've lost my desire to be eloquent. Fuck them all, every last one of them. They are the scourge of the earth, the real 'Axis of Evil'. In Jesus name we will cleanse the temple. Ah well, time to go back to sleep. Night.

Meh

2005-12-03T21:43:00.000-08:00

Meh I say. What a lacklustre month this has been. All the music in the world at my shredded bloody fingertips and boredom is the only thing that registers. Then the other night I was schlepping home in the slush and an LCD Soundsystem remix started to pound into my cranium and now all is well. "Kick out the chairs...motherfuckers"
Echo and the Bunnymen are in town this weekend but whatever...I think it would depress me a wee bit to show up and try to transport myself back in time 25 years or so. Even though they probably still light a fire.....but it's just a signpost, a buried memory. I still love "Heaven up Here", in part because of the cool cover. Cool blue, ocean blue, ocean rain, lips like sugar on the back of love. Sigh....time for a solid full-on Smiths revival. Hit the North!

Problems

2005-11-04T07:39:00.000-08:00

Technology. The bane of our day to day lives. I'm going back to a pen and notebook. Amen.

Jim is dead

2005-09-14T20:52:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you about Jim. I met Jim in 1979 because he was dating a friend of mine from work. Jim played bass in the Young Canadians with Art Bergman and Barry Taylor. I saw them for the first time at the Commodore Ballroom opening for Black Flag. Pre Henry Rollins. They rocked. Jim was very mellow, a bit of an introvert, except when onstage. He was a study in dynamics, a whirl of sparks. New Years Eve 1980; we got very drunk and went to see a show at The Laundromat. The Subhumans were playing. Jim was refused entrance because of his advanced state of intoxication. Toxicity. We had to take him to the hospital. He survived. He was very apologetic the next time I saw him, but it was one of my most memorable New Years. Thanks Jim.
I lost track of him over the years, but one day I saw him in Vancouver's Kitslano area with his Mom. Jim had mental health issues that required a fair bit of medication and he didn't look too well at the time. I felt bad about not making the effort to talk to him. Luckily I did bump into him a few months before his death, at my favorite Broadway eatery. He seemed to remember me (it had been at least 23 years since we'd last hung out). We talked about music and the state of the World and promised to talk again....over a bagel and coffee. That was 11 months ago. I picked up the paper last week and read that Jim had be killed in an accident at a Kitslano supermarket. This was a few weeks after his home had been destroyed in a fire. Some people might say that it's a tragic tale, but I don't think Jim would have seen it that way. He would have taken it in stride, dignified, and Jim, we have been enriched by your time here with us. Rock on.

Everything Squared

2005-08-24T21:05:00.000-07:00

Damn I'm glad to be alive. Healthy and reasonably happy. Good friends. An endless supply of coffee. I hope to see quantum computers in my lifetime. Although not when I'm 95 and drooling into a cup. What could they do you ask. Well I'm not exactly sure but you could probably use one to slow down time, or compress all the music ever made onto a speck of nano-dust or re-sequence the human genome on your laptop and grow gills. Maybe. Perhaps you could develop a drug so powerful that taking it would put you in a state of infinite bliss. A third alternative to life and death. No pain. You wouldn't be addicted, you'd just be. Be-ism. As we increase the amount of sensory input in our lives it becomes harder to filter out the stuff we really don't need. But couple your cortex with a quantum computer and you could experience trillions of bits of quanta all at once and enjoy it as a complete harmonic cascade and keep at it for years. We're building God. Hyper reality. We'll be able to manipulate the foundation of objective realit.......information. Maybe we'll work out how to hack the cosmos in our lifetime. Or maybe Gaia will slough us off. Do we have a chance?

Fusion

2005-08-20T06:12:00.000-07:00

Every summer I adopt a Gothic lifestyle. Avoid the sun, listen to Dead Can Dance and drink lots of absinthe. The appeal of roasting one's flesh under a blazing sun is puzzling to me. Without a lush layer of gray Vancouver clouds overhead I feel unattached, ready to float away into the ether. It wasn't always that way, and occasionally I do venture out into the heat, or spend a few hours in a sweaty club. That's my summer. How was yours?
I realize that I've been reading a lot online about the things that allow me to read online. It's a tech loop. Blogs about blogs, podcasts about podcasts, websites about the Web. It was about ten years ago that my room-mate showed me how the Web worked. Windows 95 wasn't out yet and I think he was using the precursor to Netscape to surf. Hmmmm, yes.....protocols....hypertext......TCP.....yawn. Then I did a search for Orbital and lo and behold a few links showed up....with graphics yet. An opinion about their new CD, a listing of live dates; I was hooked. Still am.
The folks that live next door have a refreshingly eclectic taste in music. I'm hearing lots of African hip-hop, Rai, Emo/Electro/Indie yadda yadda. I just gave them the stack of Asian pop CDs that I found abandoned on Dunbar St. and that tickled them. I'm on the guest list. Peace.

Fake Organism

2005-06-18T21:26:00.000-07:00

Your phone's off the hook but you're not. Look around people. See the sky collapse, watch the resolute sea rise up to swallow you. I'm feeling a bit antediluvian today. A bit eschatological. Burn baby burn, burn it all down. Cranky, a barbed wire funk. I remember an old girlfriend and I running soaking and drunk through the pre-dawn Vancouver rain, singing Smith's songs. Our kisses were fevered, now there's an old bruise to show for it. Where were we going?

Iggy Pop 'The Passenger'
The Smiths 'Reel around the Fountain'
Cocteau Twins 'Musette and Drums'
New Order 'Everything's Gone Green'
Spear of Destiny 'The Wheel'
Fad Gadget 'Incontinent'
Cabaret Voltaire 'A Touch of Evil'
Tracks to drift off to.

Tim's Truths

2005-06-12T21:32:00.000-07:00

Today I realized:
1. I've seen our commonality....and it's boring.
2. We are the products we desire
3. Talk is cheap, but you can sell it for profit.
4. All of our ideas, philosophies and beliefs are nullified by death.
5. I need more sleep.

The Music, the Medium, the Message

2005-06-10T18:33:00.000-07:00

Hmmmm, what's more important to you, the sonic fidelity of a recording or the emotional impact of the music? A bit of both? Back in tha day my friend Gord had a pretty sweet stereo and he'd make me tapes from time to time that sounded pretty good to my untrained ears. He assured me that there was a lot of artistry in producing a faithful copy of a disc. Album. Platter to you young-uns. A lot of my friends were into the 'quality' of recordings, talking endlessly about tonal degradation and harmonic distortion and so on. So I learned a bit about what to listen to beneath the music. When I could, I spent a fair bit on stereo equipment to bring out the best in my collection of tunes. And it was good. Then one day I heard the Ramones and they got my attention. The album sounded as raw as a band-saw slicing into a chunk of concrete and I loved it. Not so my audiophile friends. They wouldn't let me bring my Clash albums over in fear of 'ruining' their ten thousand dollar stereos. Plus they hated the music. So I got new friends. I fell in love with the Replacements and Husker Du on my buddy's garage-sale stereo, even though only one channel worked, and the speakers were taped together and mismatched. Who needed a graphic equalizer and carbon fiber speaker cones? Not us. Lately though I've been listening to a lot of Miles Davis and Jimi Hendrix and there is a lot to be said for high quality recordings. The studio was an instrument and it became a part of the work that just doesn't translate well on an iPod. I'll go with a happy medium in this debate, quality and quantity finely balanced. Rock on.

Musical Mnemonics

2005-06-07T16:49:00.000-07:00

That's a tough one to repeat 5 times. Simply, mnemonics are memory enhancers. I realized today that as well as enjoying a wide range of music for the sheer pleasure of it, I'm relying on songs increasingly to recall events that took place years ago. 'Hmmm, what was I doing in the Autumn of 1981?...better play that Echo & the Bunnymen track'. The way we experience music has changed radically over the last few hundred years. Before the Internet and CDs, before the Vinyl LP, before radio and before the Player Piano there was live music and nothing more. Sheet music and symphonic scores probably weren't all that accessible to the average person, so it was all live. Travelling musicians roamed the country-side performing the hits of the day and local citizens packed halls for the sounds of Mozart. Now I can create a piece of music on the computer and put it out there for anyone on the planet with an Internet connection and the motivation to listen to it. Nothing but bits and bytes. If you want to check out Tunisian Rai or Brazilian Funk or the latest glitch-pop from Sweden it's just a mouse-click away. Is it shrinking the world? I hope so. Viva le Revolution!

Live from Scotland

2005-06-05T08:10:00.000-07:00

Guid Mornin,
Occasionally I get bored with all things digital, but it only lasts for a day or so. Why? Because the Internet has been my source of musical nourishment for the last 9 or 10 years. It's a conduit through which I've discovered new artists, kept up with old favorites and connected with like-minded people around the world. What I'm loving right now are music blogs and podcasts. I'll plug a new site you can check out at http://tartanpodcast.co.uk/. It's that D.I.Y. flavor that's always fresh, always inspiring and never quaint. Just a bloke who loves music and wants to give exposure to up and coming bands. Excellent.
Another blog I've been spending a lot of time at is http://polloxniner.blogspot.com. Great site with lots of links. That's it for now people. Ciao.

Peripheral Epiphany

2005-05-31T09:01:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I've spent a lot of time listening to music over the years. Some would say to my detriment. Well bog-blast them. On reflection some of that time was wasted. The Techno years of 1994 to 1997 come to mind. When I realized how easy Techno was to produce on a computer I quickly lost interest. Easy. A spliffed out chimp could do it.
Do you ever find yourself amazed and awestruck over a piece of music? Something that melts and morphs and captures your attention and won't let go. All those disparate strands woven and layered into a new concoction. I gave Miles Davis's 'Pangaea' a listen the other day and it did the deed. How do they do it? I know all music has roots in past incarnations but I'm not a musician, so when I listen to music it's a sensual, occasionally dispassionate experience. I don't know much about bar chords or notes or scales. I'm afraid that if I did it would take some of the mystery out of it. Y'Know?
Local folks Black Mountain are getting my props today. Organic, analog and just the tonic for a rainy West Coast day. Cheers.

Frozen in Time

2005-05-28T08:06:00.000-07:00

The pulsing organism that is indie music reminds me of those huge underground fungi that stretch for acres just beneath the surface of our world. Maybe one day they'll all link up, a global mushroom.
My earliest memory of hearing music that didn't exist on the radio was at a weekend art class my brother and I went to. Our instructor for the day belonged to this socialist/artistic/hippie collective and he brought along his music to play during the class. I was intrigued by the off-kilter rhythms and exotic melodies and asked him what it was that was on the tape. It was a group of his friends, two of whom had been travelling in the Middle East. So the chances of picking up a copy at the local Woolco were nil. I wonder if his friends had been to Jajouka in Morocco? The Master Musicians of Jajouka have influenced and collaborated with people such as Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones, free jazz giant Ornette Coleman, Bill Laswell, Talvin Singh and Elliot Sharp. There is a legend that if they stop playing their music the World will come to an end. So unless you look forward to Armageddon, check them out. Highly addictive.

That's It!?

2005-05-23T22:14:00.000-07:00

Do ya think? Maybe it's my self-diagnosed A.D.D. kicking in or the coffee wearing off or the neutrinos streaming through my brain but I'm beginning to see where this is all headed. A big mass of greyish whey-like information. Blah diddy blah Paris Hilton ass kiss blog that muthaf***a. I tunnel through the redundancy and oy veh, it's layer upon layer of quixotic questioning, opining, whining, kvetching, bitching and noise. It means something to someone but most of it sucks and blows. At the same time. Is there intelligent design? Who cares? Only there's a direct snaking line between that question and some religious bottom feeder sticking their nose/gun/bible/koran in my face. Boo-yaa!! 'Love will get you like a case of anthrax, and that's something that I don't wanna catch'. Drop and roll people. Call in the air-strike.

The Race

2005-05-22T22:22:00.000-07:00

Saw it on a blog, downloaded it, read a review on Pitchforkmedia.com, Googled it and now I'm gonna rattle on about it. Not before I subscribe to a few RSS feeds, catch up on a few podcasts and...........................oh Christ, gotta make sure I back it all up on my thumb drive. So much information. A bit junkie's wet-dream. I read some time ago about a theory that beneath the smallest sub-atomic particle, beyond the most elusive species of quanta exists pure information. That is the building block of all Creation. Information. And some of us want to access it all, all the time, always. To be able to siphon the great hard-drive of the cosmos into our pockets. Amen and pass the hardware.
The Gang of Four were in town, so I celebrated not going by grabbing a copy of "Entertainment" via a BitTorrent link....thing....file. Check out "Anthrax" , all dissonance and trepidation.

Anti Noise

2005-05-12T22:03:00.000-07:00

Last night my landlord was constructing a metal gate to keep the crack-heads and zombies out of the back yard and he was making a hell of a racket so I decided to finally listen to Lou Reed's 'Metal Machine Music' very loud and hell yeah, it meshed quite well with the industrial sounds of fence building. In fact I may record his next grind-fest and do a mash-up. Maybe I will. On a lighter note, there are no crack-heads or zombies in our bucolic neck of the woods, but there are raccoons, and if they wake me up again at 4:00 a.m. I may break out the tasers. So watch it!

Less is the new More

2005-05-12T11:58:00.000-07:00

Just a rant folks. Just a bitter jaded rant. Self esteem...over-rated....all things digital......hype...........goals, dreams and excellence.........for losers. There, I'm gonna live this day my way....achieving nothing more than the satisfaction of achieving nothing. Oh, and what's the deal with volume controls? They used to be round and you turned them, sweet simplicity. Today's gadgets are designed by monkeys disguised as engineers. No wait, stoned monkeys disguised as stoned engineers. Peace out.

M.I.A.

2005-05-10T21:04:00.000-07:00

Watch it, I've got peppah spray.

Lifted

2005-05-10T21:01:00.000-07:00

'Sunshowers that fall on my troubles
Are over you my baby
And some showers I’ll be aiming at you
Cos I’m watching you my baby'

Tha Bomb

2005-05-10T19:44:00.000-07:00

My bomb

It's Turning

2005-05-10T19:39:00.000-07:00

OK hi,
I'm probably sending this to the wrong department, but really, I have little control over the routing once it leaves my computer. The damn Internet should've been built by women.
Anyhow, I've developed this intense lust and infatuation with M.I.A. Her music, her style, her take on the human condition. And, she's bee-oot-iful too. Does any of this make any sense? Yo. Smitten. Me. She's playing in Vancouver tonight, I can't go and I figured it'd help if I unloaded my pathetic story of unrequieted love onto the World Wide Web and sent it to someone who might just understand. Any-hew.......M.I.A. fuckin' kills! Ciao.

2005-04-28T06:54:00.000-07:00

Reflection

Resurrection

2005-04-28T06:16:00.000-07:00

It's 6:00 a.m.. This is when I used to get home from a night of debauchery, now it's when I get up and sip on freshly brewed shade-grown coffee and contemplate a new entry in my blog, while listening to recently downloaded music. It's so new century.
My back's up. Ever since I heard 'The Message' by Grandmaster Flash many moons ago (1982 I reckon) I've loved Rap and Hip-Hop. The Sugarhill Gang, Herc, Kurtis Blow, Run DMC, the Beastie Boys, Biz Markie, Roxanne Shante, Boogie Down Productions, yeah. Like any form of popular music it has it's share of crap, but then your idea of crap may differ greatly from mine. My beef is with people whose musical vocabulary is wide and varied with one glaring omission. No Rap. No Hip-Hop. With a callous disregard for the heart and soul of a great art form they brush aside my suggestions for listening. Fine. There's my rant. In the meantime, I've been listening to a lot of great beat artists lately. El-P, Danger Mouse, Deltron 3030, Prefuse 73, Roots Manuva, Cannibal Ox and so on. Check em' out. Peace.

Are You a Hostage?

2005-04-22T17:58:00.000-07:00

I desire to possess my love. To encircle it. It's a fantasy of course because the music is free. It has no owner. If you took it a step further, it has no creator, no genesis. It's always there until a human conduit provides a path for it. Music is powerful, ideas are powerful, sex is powerful. Blessed be the ignorant for they are wedded to bliss. I digress however, this is not a NewAgeDiary blog.
On our first date (circa 1981) my ex-wife and I ended up at the Smilin' Buddha Cabaret where I proceeded to impress her with my slam-dancing skills. D.O.A. were playing and it was the exact same night a year previously that I was also at the Buddha, slamming to, of all people, D.O.A. However that night didn't end up with a bit of drunken friskiness, it ended up with my buddy and I spending a day or so in one of Vancouver's finer hotels. Courtesy of the V.P.D. So some lessons are ignored and others are learned after years of following certain patterns. Amen.
Hey, this is about music. So even the most detatched must get down to it and pay homage to the sounds that enhanced us.
Pointed Sticks/Modernettes/D.O.A./Tin Twist/I Braineater/Subhumans
The Young Canadians/The Dishrags/Tim Ray/The Secret Vs....represent!!

The Circle of Snake

2005-04-18T13:17:00.000-07:00

How much of the change in your life is an illusion, what are your thoughts doing when you're not paying attention, is there a simple formula that allows you to know what the hell's up with the world? Sometimes a walk in the sun will provide the answer. Running will lessen the effects of time on you, only you won't be able to enjoy this phenomena until you've moved forward by a few million years. Only you can decide what to do with the time surrounding you.
Lou Reed released a double vinyl album in the 70s called 'Metal Machine Music' that consists entirely of feedback noise. I've never actually listened to it but knowing it's out there helps me take life less seriously. If you read this and you can think of music that helps to keep you sane and cogent let me know. Peace.

What's Cool?

2005-04-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

Krafwerk's music leaves me cool, but I know they got soul. In the late 70's they dressed like junior accountants and looked like everymen. They still do. I like that. Maybe the ultimate cool is to look as generic as possible. The uniform of cool is just that, uniform. Conformism.
With the increased access to information and media we all enjoy, cheap long distance travel and communication and inexpensive advanced technology, cool is global. I ask people what they listen to on their walkmans and iPods and the answers are enlightening. The spiky haired gay activist with a weakness for zydeco, an ultra chic fashion designer grooving to South American funk, the skater kid on the bus listening to King Crimson and Grandmaster Flash. Long gone are the days when I needed to carry a few cassettes with me for the morning commute. A high end iPod could keep you in musical bliss for a month long road trip. Brilliant. That's cool.

Loaded

2005-04-14T21:16:00.000-07:00

Loaded

The protocol, the long haul
lost in a hole, right side up
mirror mirror what is queerer, winter's
made right with a mouth full of stone.
Conjure ordinary birds, blow away
the last lanyard, Xerxes sweeps an arc and metadata lies
at the crux of it.

The Cartel

2005-04-03T21:55:00.000-07:00

I'm a slave to vinyl memories. I can't let go of the analog past. You see my friends, in the beginning records were made with highly refined petroleum. Then in the 70's there was a war in the Middle East and the major Arab oil producers said "fuck you". They squeezed the pipes. That led to the Ford Pinto and really crappy vinyl. Records started to get thinner and flimsier and you could hear it. I dream of my stacks of wax. Boxes and boxes of albums. The stylus carefully placed on a spinning black orb, the rich sound enveloping you. There's nothing quite like it. Loading an iPod with 6 billion songs leaves me cold. Yeah it's funky fresh but where's the love? My albums, maybe you picked one up at a garage sale. Treat them kindly. Keep them close.

Druids and Wiccans oh my

2005-04-03T21:47:00.000-07:00

Perhaps there was foresight in the old religion of the Celts. The stones and trees were embued with spirit. We've only been a species for a short time on this planet, and when we're gone the forests and oceans will breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe we're being culled right now, maybe the global weather patterns are changing to ultimately remove us. Our position here seems quite tenuous. Give it credence if you will, I'm going to enjoy the time left to me. Ciao.

2005-04-02T22:50:00.000-08:00

When will it end?

Requiem

2005-04-01T22:12:00.000-08:00

Here is a bouquet of needles
and tubes
surrounded by creatures stirring
the dark
I was sleeping while
the afterbirth passed through the
night
"You are healed" said the splinter of light, "they have
passed to their father's house and you are not to blame"

Confrontation

2005-03-29T20:03:00.000-08:00

The show comes to an end, there's a fight here and there, bottles litter the Italian Cultural Center's floor and we're ready to party. Why don't we just wait for the band to invite us backstage? Yeah. Wait a bit more. OK, the party is happening.....later. Right, we'll drive there. By now the place is fairly empty and I sense a bit of trouble outside. My friends and I head out to my Pontiac Ventura and we notice a lot of drunken belligerent teenagers with mullets and bad attitudes milling about. Oh well, it's East Van, it's to be expected. Someone shouts out "hey faggot!" Then there's a lot of nasty threats and vitriol aimed at us. I turn around to disparage their lack of class and am rewarded with a volley of beer bottles. Oh boy. Now I'm pissed. If they hit my prized Pontiac with a bottle of Molson fucking Canadian there will be hell to pay. My friends however look dimly upon this sudden display of bravado and hustle me to the car. We're outnumbered 5 to 1. Beer bottles continue to rain down, and one hits the car. I see red, but am dragged into the car and urgently told to "drive!". I'll drive all right, right over the frikkin' heads of these morons. The same morons who are now trying to kick the windows of the car in. Swooping around the parking lot in a wide arc I aim for one knot of thugs who happen to be in the way of the exit. They scatter and just as we scream out of the parking lot there's a crash and something extremely hard smashes through the side window, bounces off my head and lands on the dash. A well placed rock. Hmmmm, there's glass in my eye and yet I must find a way to outrace the hoodlums in their hopped up Camaros and Challengers. We eventually lose them and vow eternal revenge. I drive to the hospital and get the glass out of my face and eye (no permanent damage), talk to the police (they offer no sympathy or hope of justice), and drop my stalwart homies off. A thing to laugh about for years to come. Over a beer or 3.

There's a postscript to this story, the young lady who had intrigued me that night actually witnessed the battle and later helped me to secure insurance funds from our friendly provincial insurance carrier. I once again would like to point out my lameness in not pursuing a friendship with her. If you happen on this blog and recognize yourself, I thank you once again 1000 times over.

Boo!

2005-03-27T08:55:00.000-08:00

Halloween 1980. It's dark and raining and my friends and I are off to the Italian Cultural Center for a night of Vancouver's finest Punk/New Wave. My friend Cathy's boyfriend is the bass player for the Young Canadians and there might be an after party, so all in all it looks to be a rockin' night out. The place is packed and the bands are pumping it out. We've snuck in some liquor, some weed and it's good times all right. I spot the girl I've had a crush on for the last few months, but lame out and don't go talk to her. She's so damn cute in her mini-skirt and motorcycle boots, pixie haircut and braces.
Later in the night I notice a few people show up who don't quite fit in with the scene, drunken metal heads who obviously are looking for trouble. Excellent, I haven't seen a good fight in some time. At one point the police show up to check things out and a young punkette complains to them that some of the interlopers are threatening mayhem and carnage. The cops don't seem interested. The vibe becomes increasingly menacing. Part 2 of this story will be coming soon. Yeah, check it out.

Disconnect

2005-03-24T17:00:00.000-08:00

I'm curious about people who lead an 'alternative' lifestyle and have had a long running fascination with the scheme, so what's my point? Why does it seem so self indulgent and lame? What's the alternative to a priviledged life? A life of plenty compared to most of the world? We all have choices to a certain degree, my choice the last few years has been to greet each new day with a fervent curiosity and a modicum of 'what if?' I've been through days that were black and always a sense of things not being finished pulled me out of it. My friends, being afflicted with a morbid self absorption keeps the colors fairly bland. Why, what is it about a certain frame of reference that lends itself to such a predicable outcome? Here's your uniform now where are you? Unfair I know, I'm using a narrow brush. It's just that most uniforms are ill fitting.
Asian Dub Foundation.......Scientist.........Black Uhuru......Linton Kwesi Johnson....M.I.A...............Public Enemy............Noam Chomsky. Maximum exposure, shed light on the exporters of oppression. Represent.

The New Church

2005-03-23T17:59:00.000-08:00

There's so many rituals we go through in a day. Somewhere in the back of our soul we know we're going through the motions, but the comfort it brings us keeps us moving.
I guess it's too late to warn you all that these dispatches from my PSYCHE are unedited and unabridged. There's no filler or propaganda, no point and no reason. Bold claims, I know, but I can back them up. Through the power of memory manipulation I will enthrall you with risque tales and bawdy adventures. There is no going back.
My favorite gig right now would be M.I.A. and The Streets. I'm still not anywhere close to listening to too much M.I.A. You know how to tell that new music is 'right'? You look back at your formers selves and they're all dancing to the same beat. Beauty.

Very Military

2005-03-17T06:07:00.000-08:00

There's always been lots of Brits in Vancouver, God love em'. In the heady days of 1979 you could cut the faux British accents at any given punk show with a knife. Why did we adopt a cockney slur after a beer or two when most of us were solid Canadian citizens? From the suburbs. Easy, we loved the bands from England, to most of my friends they personified 'punk' even though we loved the New York scene as well. I brought my Clash and Stiff Little Fingers (an Irish band...happy St. Paddy's Day) over to a friend's one day and played him a few songs. He was polite about it and mentioned how 'English' the bands sounded. And angry. The word got around that I had really lost the plot by moving downtown and hanging out with artists and punks. I suppose settling down in North Vancouver and rocking out to Loverboy just did'nt look like an option to me. Sure there were a lot of posers in the scene and the hip hierarchy could be a bit tedious, but like any scene in any city on the planet it was fun, exciting and educational. It's cool to be cool.
Whoa, the Bloc Party's playing in town in a few days! $13.00. Please don't let them be sold out. Puh-leez. I'm there, you? Ciao.

Lock Step Groove

2005-03-16T20:12:00.000-08:00

Gang of Four's coming to town. I missed them when they were opening for the Buzzcocks so many years ago. Or maybe that show was cancelled. It was many years ago my children. Well, maybe I'll go see them this time. This time counts for all. Gang of Four. Check them out, along with the Pop Group and The Swell Maps. Just do it. Ciao.

Is it morning yet?

2005-03-15T17:14:00.000-08:00

Do you feel it? Things are slowly shifting. I’m in love. With an idea. Well she’s an actual person. Maya or as she’s also known as, M.I.A. Where to begin? Deep jungle siren. Deity sun shower. Carnal Karma queen. Brown river goddess sweet as blood. Sometimes it’s the beat, or the voice or the attitude or some small indefinable nuance in the music that puts you in the right place. An association, a memory, a warm body that’s no longer there. Brilliant.

Fatal Mistake

2005-03-14T20:07:00.000-08:00

We all hope to experience that one transforming moment in our lives, when the untangled patterns wrap themselves around us and won't let go. Some of us want to gorge ourselves on it, some of us build a shrine to it, and then there are those who can see beyond it. Some of our breakthroughs are on a small scale.
You fit in, you're on the dance floor, you smile and everyone smiles back at you. The music has caught you and you are no longer in control. Light falls on you and you know the taste of God on your tongue.
Did that happen? To you? What was it like?
Music can carry you through troubled times, it does not question you, the only payment you have to make is time. Amen.

That's Mr. Ranter to you.

2005-03-13T10:10:00.000-08:00

It's hard to be a somber revolutionary when the sun is shining and people are out soaking up the simple pleasures of life. How many of us are affected by decisions made by overly serious thinkers, people who don't get out in the fresh air often enough? People who are convinced that they know what’s best for us, whose convictions blind them to common sense or shared experiences. Fuck them and the arrogance they breathe. Fuck their tortured logic, their skewed righteousness. Will we ever be free of the dictates of self-appointed experts and priests of the new revelation? I doubt it. Fuck them.
On a lighter note, a fellow is helping me track down an elusive Cowboys International CD. They were one of my faves back in the day. I believe Kieth Levene who went on to play with Public Image Ltd. was on their first album 'Original Sin'. It's worth the trouble to find a copy because IMHO they sounded exactly what a band from that era and location should have sounded like. Very British, slightly aloof, a little disdainful and bang on musically.

Down in the Tube Station

2005-03-08T05:59:00.000-08:00

The Underground. A place of refuge in troubled times. A cocoon. My experience with musicians in the independent scene is that they enjoy a bit of cross pollenization. The fertile ground of the art/punk/D.I.Y. milieu produces some of the most diverse music I've had the pleasure of being exposed to. Some of it smells, some of it wafts it way up to the streets of commerce, some of it takes you on a long strange journey.
One night after seeing Captain Beefheart at the Commodore Ballroom, my friend Jim and I made our way down to the waterfront to visit his friends living in an old brick warehouse. Unadorned, unkempt, no yuppies allowed. We sat around a rehearsal space, talking about what else, music. During the discussion someone got up and started laying down complex drum patterns on a kit in the corner, then someone else plugged in their guitar and proceeded to scrape and scratch out an alien semaphore. Jim was a bassist, and soon they had him up too, plucking along, doing a Lee Scratch Perry tribute. It all started to gel and for the next hour we all sat transfixed as this ad hoc ensemble pushed and pulled one another. I'm not sure if they followed up on their late night promises to jam together again, but I had a great time and heard something that may never be recreated.
The Captain Beefheart show was beyond my expectations, it washed over us with a magic gumbo of free-jazz, swampy blues, avante garde squawking and punky insolence. We loved it. We didn't know what it was, but we loved it. Captain Beefheart was at least twice as old as most of us in the room, but that wasn't an issue, not in the least. It rocked our world.

Necrostalgia

2005-03-04T19:57:00.000-08:00

We kill the past, we bring it back to life occasionally, we reshape and recast it, pump it full of irony. We're in love with the past, but long past the infatuation stage. The past is the new present.

'Rock against Racism' was a movement in the latter part of the 1970s that combined punk's vitriol and vigor with reggae's sense of utter righteousness and protest. There were race riots in the cities of England those days, burning buildings, shots ringing out in the night. Politicians pitting cultures against one another to weaken the threat of immigration. So artists hooked up and got people out to dance and piss and yell and say 'fuck you' to the powers. Maybe the protests are a bit more subtle nowadays. Average people quietly working against the forces of evil. Amen.

OK, you'd think I was on their payroll, but I can't stop listening to 'Silent Alarm' by the Bloc Party. They've borrowed from the past to create something fresh. I remember (he says, leaning over to make a point), the first time the DJ played 'Anthrax' by Gang of Four at the Luv-a-fair, and 'Careering' by Public Image Ltd. That was some funky shit. Oh how my eyes well up with tears at the thought of my post-punk youth, hanging out at the Laundromat or the Smilin' Buddha. Getting thrown in jail and escaping near death in the depths of East Vancouver. All these stories are bubbling to the surface, soon to be committed to the page. Ciao.

The Blackest Crow

2005-03-02T23:14:00.000-08:00

I've noticed large murders of crows flying around the city lately. Maybe it's a harbinger of troubled times. More troubled than the present spiritual morass we're in right now.
I'll get to the music shortly, but I want to talk about an encounter I had today. You see, a few weeks ago a young lady caught my eye and I must admit that I'm smitten. For such a delicate lass she has a firm handshake, and I'll bank on that being a sign of resoluteness. She is gorgeous. Today as I left the warm embrace of my favorite Jewish deli, I spotted her, mere yards away. What was she doing here? She lives miles from the city, why is she here? She spotted me....and a smile came over both of us. (Am I waxing eloquent??) Well, ladies and gentlemen, Spring may be a few weeks off, but I can't wait for Spring. Winter will suffice.
Oh yeah, music. Everything old is new again. New is the new old. I love the Bloc Party, damn them for bringing a salty tear to my eye. Damn their youth and their cunning. Damn them!

2005-02-27T21:25:00.000-08:00

17 Seconds

Flanged Chords

2005-02-27T21:15:00.000-08:00

November 1980. It's been raining for 8 days in a row. Steady gray rain. I'm listening to the Cure's '17 Seconds'. Well suited for a soggy Vancouver afternoon. One the other side of the tape is Joy Division's 'Closer'. I'm rolling a substantial joint and looking forward to the shift in time that will follow. I get so high that it seems like birds are flying through the room. Seagulls. I get up and put on P.I.L.'s 'Second Edition'. Perfect. Hours later I'm still sprawled on the bed, half asleep when the power goes out. Now I've got the lo-fi hiss of the rain to keep me company. Bliss.

D.I.Y.

2005-02-26T22:01:00.000-08:00

I'm f**kin' bored. Tired of thinking about the day to day shit that has to get done. You know what's really Punk Rock? Silence. Absolute silence. No TV, no stereo, no phone, just the pure tone of silence. Amen and good night.

2005-02-24T17:49:00.000-08:00

Collage 2

2005-02-24T17:48:00.000-08:00

Collage

2005-02-24T17:37:00.000-08:00

The Sound

2005-02-24T17:36:00.000-08:00

Wire 154

2005-02-24T17:35:00.000-08:00

Iggy

There is no love in this world anymore

2005-02-24T13:49:00.000-08:00

How sad and pathetic are the countless cookie-cutter artists flooding the market these days? All the resources that go into manufacturing these generic doppelgangers could be used elsewhere I'm sure. What do we need, another Blink 182 clone band or cheap solar energy? I tell ya. I'm always hoping (and waiting) for at least a mini-revolution to happen in popular music. Sigh. There was a community television show in Vancouver during the late seventies that aired music videos by numerous indie/non-commercial/alternative artists. I can't remember who hosted the show, but it was funky fresh and I never missed it. It was my first exposure to music videos, a few years before MTV came along. I was inspired to hang out at the one or two Import Record stores in Vancouver and talk to the owners about the stuff that excited them. They loved the music that was flying under the Top 40 radar and I came to appreciate not only many new artists, but people who I'd missed early on in my musical youth. People like Captain Beefheart, John Cale, the Flamin' Groovies, the Stooges, Kraftwerk, Can, Amon Duul, Lee Scratch Perry, Robert Wyatt, Syd Barrett, Roxy Music and many others. The joy and exhilaration of discovery.
In my capacity as a Security Officer at the Robson Square Government building from 1978-79 I got to see a lot of obscure bands play at the small theater located in the bowels of the complex. Of course I stood out like a sore thumb in my crisp quasi-military uniform, but nobody cared. There wasn't the snobbery and elitism that crept into the local scene later on. One night Pere Ubu and John Otway were on the bill and I completely forgot about the lofty standards I was supposed to adhere to as a Security Officer and surreptisiously shared a joint with one avid fan and then realized that my radio was turned on. Whoops. It took a bit of creative story telling to convince the shift officer that I had been working (cough cough) undercover. Yes.
I actually chatted with David Thomas of Pere Ubu after the show, and funnily enough picked up the conversation with him 12 years later when they opened for the Pixies at the Commodore Ballroom. Excellent memory. Who's a name-dropper then? Until next time, peace.

Heart and Soul

2005-02-23T10:02:00.000-08:00

Two words. New Wave. That said it all. 'What kind of music are you into?' 'Uh, New Wave' 'Wow, are you a punk rocker?' 'Ummm, no, but I like punk rock' 'Hmmm, OK, see ya later'
Lines were drawn. Territory was staked. Orientations were defined. In 1979 in the suburbs to listen to punk and new-wave was to place a large bulls-eye on your face. 'Hey fag, I hear you like that punk shit....what's up with that?' 'Hey, are you queer; punks are fags right?' So moving to the city, in this case the West End of Vancouver, was very liberating. There was a thriving underground scene that stretched across artistic boundaries. There were numerous shows, gigs, one off clubs, happenings and events. Sure it could become slightly elitist and smug, but there was always something fresh and interesting just around the corner or resting in someones record collection. Let's face it, there's always poseurs and trend-junkies, no matter where you are. The rejection of the mainstream is entirely predictable in artsy enclaves. The cutting edge slowly moves into the commercial realm and is absorbed (sometimes kicking and screaming) by the masses. Remember a few years ago when Volkswagen used music by Stereolab and Spiritualized to promote the new Beetle? That's what I'm talkin' about.
It's always refreshing to meet people who love music for what it is. There's less of a need to contextualize it or plug it into a genre with them. I've spent hours talking to people who name drop obscure artists and pull reams of trivia out of the air, but who never articulate what the music does for them. Very dry.
I still use the term alternative to describe the music that I and many of my friends listen to. It's an alternative to what MTV or FM radio plays. Are King Crimson or Prefuse 73 alternative because of a lack of airplay? In my little world they are. So is Russian folk music and abtract Hip-Hop. But that's just me.
I like the artists who are currently influenced by the scenes that were happening 25 years ago. Even though it doesn't take a crystal ball to see what's on the horizon, it's fun to see where new bands will take their shtick. And I mean that in a good way. Ciao.

What if?

2005-02-21T11:18:00.000-08:00

I had a crush on a young woman who worked next door to me back in 1980. She was ultra cute, a punk rock pixie. I saw her at some of the shows my friends and I went to, but was always a bit shy about talking to her. Damn. One day she asked me if I was going to see the Young Marble Giants. They were on my stereo a lot, and I was thinking of seeing them, but knowing she was going to be there in a very small venue with her punkette friends and that I was going to be alone (my friends were only interested in loud fast bands like D.O.A. and the Avengers) unnerved me. I didn't go. How might things have turned out if I had and we had connected and well......what if? I bumped into her years later when I lived in North Vancouver and she was as cute as ever, but attached as well. Moral of story, swallow your fear occasionally and see what comes of it.
The Young Marble Giants are worth checking out, you might consider them chamber punk, very minimal and twee with delicate female vocals. Very much a sign of the diversity of the 'alternative' music of the post-punk era.

We salute the ancestors

2005-02-20T13:16:00.000-08:00

Here it is, a paean to the best and worst of 1969-1982

Trout Mask Replica Capt. Beefheart

Funhouse Iggy and the Stooges

Ziggy Stardust David Bowie

Loaded Velvet Underground

For Your Pleasure Roxy Music

Another Green World Brian Eno

The Idiot Iggy Pop

Transformer Lou Reed

New York Dolls New York Dolls

Siren Roxy Music

Trans Europe Express Kraftwerk

Low David Bowie

Lust for Life Iggy Pop

Ramones The Ramones

Horses Patti Smith

Talking Heads 77 Talking Heads

Never Mind the Bollocks Sex Pistols

Leave Home The Ramones

Plastic Letters Blondie

The Man Machine Kraftwerk

In the City The Jam

Moving Targets Penetration

Dub Housing Pere Ubu

The Upsetter Collection Lee Scratch Perry

See the Whirl Delta 5

Alles Ist Gut D.A.F.

Claro Que Si Yello

Wild Gift X

154 Wire

Dreamtime Tom Verlaine

Strange Man, Changed Man Bram Tchaikovsky

Singles Going Steady Buzzcocks

No More Heroes The Stranglers

My Aim is True Elvis Costello

The Clash The Clash

New Boots and Panties Ian Dury

Generation X Generation X

Heroes David Bowie

New Values Iggy Pop

More Songs about Buildings.. Talking Heads

The Boomtown Rats Boomtown Rats

The Scream Siouxie & the Banshees

Road to Ruin The Ramones

Underwater Moonlight The Soft Boys

Systems of Romance Ultravox

Second Hand Daylight Magazine

Black and White The Stranglers

Triumph of the Ignoroids D.O.A.

Parallel Lines Blondie

A Different Kind of Blues UK Subs

Pure Mania Vibrators

Give Em' Enough Rope The Clash

Exposure Robert Fripp

Power in the Darkness Tom Robinson Band

Original Sin Cowboys International

Look Sharp Joe Jackson

Gang of Four Gang of Four

Valley of the Dolls Generation X

Rocket to Russia Ramones

Are We not Men? Devo

High Energy Plan 999

Soldier Iggy Pop

Tonic for the Troops Boomtown Rats

Playing with a Different Sex The Au Pairs

The Very Dab Fingerprintz

Fear of Music Talking Heads

Three Imaginary Boys The Cure

Quiet Life Japan

Another Setting Durutti Column

IV The Stranglers

A Different Kind of Tension Buzzcocks

The Correct Use of Soap Magazine

Red Mecca Cabaret Voltaire

Degenerates The Passage

The Flying Lizards Flying Lizards

The B-52s B-52s

I just can't stop it English Beat

London Calling The Clash

Fine Art of Surfacing Boomtown Rats

All Mod Cons The Jam

Broken English Marianne Faithful

Public Image Ltd. PIL

Entertainment Gang of Four

Distinguishing Marks Fingerprintz

Sabotage/Live John Cale

17 Seconds The Cure

God Save the Queen Robert Fripp

Armed Forces Elvis Costello

Remain in Light Talking Heads

Highest Prize in Sports 999

Kings of the Wild Frontier Adam & the Ants

Setting Sons The Jam

Get Happy!! Elvis Costello

The League of Gentlemen Robert Fripp

Psychedelic Furs Psychedelic Furs

From the Lion’s Mouth The Sound

Second Edition PIL

Solid Gold Gang of Four

Lodger David Bowie

Specials The Specials

Wild Planet B-52s

Travelogue Human League

Wha' Happen English Beat

Peter Gabriel Peter Gabriel

Orchestral Maneuvers OMD

Kaleidoscope Siouxie and the Banshees

Los Angeles X

Waiting for a Miracle Comsat Angels

Fiction Tales Modern Eon

Life in the Bush of Ghosts David Byrne/Brian Eno

Taking Liberties Elvis Costello

Eat to the Beat Blondie

Doc at the Radar Station Capt. Beefheart

Fourth World Vol. I Jon Hassell/ Brian Eno

Crocodiles Echo and the Bunnymen

Black Market Clash The Clash

Scary Monsters David Bowie

The Plateau of Mirrors Harold Budd/Brian Eno

Sandinista The Clash

Beat Noir Fingerprintz

Nightmare City Alley Cats

Kiss me Deadly Gen X

Penthouse and Pavement Heaven 17

Fire of Love Gun Club

Masque Bahaus

See Jungle! See Jungle! Bow Wow Wow

Flowers of Romance PIL

Psychedelic Jungle The Cramps

All that's new is old again.

2005-02-20T06:05:00.000-08:00

All the cool kids are into them. The post/post punk wave. Interpol, The Bloc Party, The Killers, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Snow Patrol and a bunch more. Smells like the spirit of 1981. I love the new bands too. I love their individual homages to artists I used to embrace in my youth. The angular funk/punk powered politicos like Gang of Four and The Pop Group. Remember the Au Pairs? Section 25? Ah, it brings a salty tear to my eye. My art/punk world weary past is just that, but if Franz Ferdinand comes to town I'll be first in line. The new breed. Praise them. Skinny ties and all.

The Intro

2005-02-20T05:45:00.000-08:00

The other day I found out that one of my beloved albums was being re-released on a local label. The 'Vancouver Complication', I had two copies of it back in 1979 and now I hear that a decent copy goes for around $150.00 Cdn. It's not the money I'm interested in, I'd just like to have it back in my collection. You see, around 1984 I became seduced by the bright shiny things we call Compact Discs. No clicks, no pops, no mess, no fuss. So like a lemming I crated up my hundreds of albums and traded them in at Zulu Records for a handful of CDs. Zulu only wanted less than half of my vinyl, the rest went into a freebie box. Now like a prodigal son I want to return to the days of album sleeves and tone-arms. The boxes of post-punk records that kept me company through my early twenties are long gone and to replace them would cost me a small fortune. Don't tell me to get off the pity pot and start grabbing my old school music off of the Web. I need the tactile experience of sliding the thin black platter out of it's jacket, placing it on the turntable and lovingly dropping the needle onto the groove. Heaven.