Late in October, over a four day period, Toronto sees the following shows:
Hot Snakes reunion tour hits the Horseshoe
Nouvelle Vague
The Presets
Now, the Presets show is at the Danforth Music Hall, which seems like a terrible venue for them. I'm-a gonna wanna dance, dammit... I'd much rather they were playing the Mod Club or something. But I'll still be going.
Showing posts with label Music Snobbery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Music Snobbery. Show all posts
New Presets! New Presets!
The new album will apparently drop during the film festival. Yeah, that won't distract me writing reviews at all...
Last Night's Epiphany
While having a ridiculously good time at the Saul Williams show last night, I think for the first time I finally understood the Situationist movement.
I went more or less at random. An awesome, gorgeous co-worker is a huge fan of his, and had been pestering me for a few days to come with. All I knew of Saul's work was his early slam stuff like Coded Language, so it seemed like both a good opportunity to try out his new material and hang out with someone I'd been looking for more opportunities to hang out with (because don't we all want to surround ourselves with awesome, gorgeous people?)
So I went. It being a CMW event, I got there just about mid-card, which means I also caught the whole set of Spoek Mathambo, the act on before Saul, who was pretty damn tremendous. I love musicians that have fun transcending their influences, and while Spoek is clearly from the Fela Kuti school of party Afrofunk, little glimpses of stuff like Prince and the Ventures' Sleep Walk kept poking their heads out. He closed with a Joy Division cover by way of South Africa, and opened with what I could only describe as what Arcade Fire would sound like if they were fronted by Jeru the Damaja.
Saul himself was a fucking powerhouse. The band behind him killed it, he killed it. The new stuff is still lyrically intense but backed with a percussion and beat heavy sound that isn't so much hip hop as the heart beat of the universe. And a few times between songs he'd bust out his old slam stuff, including the 'in the name of' section from Coded Language is which he hilariously walked away from the mic and right up to the edge of the stage, which caused most of the crowd to go nuts and one sorry bastard behind me to desperately try to shush them so he could hear what Saul was saying (which he probably knew by heart anyway).
And in the middle of that sonic and lyric maelstrom, the penny finally dropped for me on what Guy Debord was hiding underneath all his academese and philosophical bafflegab.
Capitalism commodifies everything, right down to the iconic images of your heroes, and right down to your own experiences. That's what the Society of the Spectacle is about, at its core. When I plunked down my $30 to see Saul Williams, I'm not being sold entertainment. I'm the one engaged in and creating my own enjoyment of that show. The sad bastard shushing the crowd did not see the same show I did, dancing with at times total abandon alongside two awesome, gorgeous people (my co-worker was there with another friend) and getting my eyes and ears opened to the existence and power of two artists I was ignorant of until that moment.
No, what I'd been sold for my $30 was access. Privilege. The commodity, in this case, was the opportunity to engage in and create my enjoyment. If the show had been free, fundamentally, my experience would have been exactly the same.
In Situationist language, a spectacle is a commodified experience. A situation is a non-commodified experience. Dunno why it took so long for that simple distinction to clue in for me, but there it is.
Now that I understand it, though, I'm not sure that distinction is an entirely terrible thing in some cases.
Take pirated content, for instance. Sure, I can download a digital copy of a movie for free and watch it at home, but that's an entirely different experience from watching it in a darkened movie palace in 70 mm. Frankly, that's a privilege I am happy to pay for. Recorded music, on the other hand, there's no difference at all between buying a little CD or downloading the tracks for free. (Again, though, a lovely piece of vinyl with a great piece of art on the sleeve... different experience altogether. Which perhaps explains why vinyl didn't die when it was supposed to.)
Or take what I've always jokingly referred to as my two big Situationist events of the year, Nuit Blanche and TIFF. In both cases I can literally wander the streets and enjoy art or movies for "free" (never mind that someone is footing the bill for my participation somewhere along the way, and that I'm bombarded by advertisements in both. The fact is that I don't have to take money out of my wallet for the privilege.) Nuit Blanche, being just one evening long, is no problem. TIFF though, more and more I find that I simply can't live for 10 days straight in that mindset. It's not that I feel compelled to rush out and spend money on something. It's that 10 consecutive days of nothing but experience burns me out. I need time to process those experiences in some fashion, rather than just pile one on top of the other.
From this new perspective, I also realize that the one true Situationist joy in my life is my beloved karaoke addiction. I can wander into a bar, sing and be sung to, and never have to pay a dime to do it. (Of course, the expectation that you will buy food or booze or whatever is there, to keep the bar afloat, but it's not a requirement. It's a very PWYC kind of community.) But again, I couldn't do it 24/7.
The distinction between spectacle and situation is an important one, especially in a media-driven culture like ours, and it's one Hollywood would do well to understand and embrace as it watches its business model crumble around its ears. But unlike Guy Debord, I don't have enough Marxism in my blood to decry that distinction as an inherently evil one.
I went more or less at random. An awesome, gorgeous co-worker is a huge fan of his, and had been pestering me for a few days to come with. All I knew of Saul's work was his early slam stuff like Coded Language, so it seemed like both a good opportunity to try out his new material and hang out with someone I'd been looking for more opportunities to hang out with (because don't we all want to surround ourselves with awesome, gorgeous people?)
So I went. It being a CMW event, I got there just about mid-card, which means I also caught the whole set of Spoek Mathambo, the act on before Saul, who was pretty damn tremendous. I love musicians that have fun transcending their influences, and while Spoek is clearly from the Fela Kuti school of party Afrofunk, little glimpses of stuff like Prince and the Ventures' Sleep Walk kept poking their heads out. He closed with a Joy Division cover by way of South Africa, and opened with what I could only describe as what Arcade Fire would sound like if they were fronted by Jeru the Damaja.
Saul himself was a fucking powerhouse. The band behind him killed it, he killed it. The new stuff is still lyrically intense but backed with a percussion and beat heavy sound that isn't so much hip hop as the heart beat of the universe. And a few times between songs he'd bust out his old slam stuff, including the 'in the name of' section from Coded Language is which he hilariously walked away from the mic and right up to the edge of the stage, which caused most of the crowd to go nuts and one sorry bastard behind me to desperately try to shush them so he could hear what Saul was saying (which he probably knew by heart anyway).
And in the middle of that sonic and lyric maelstrom, the penny finally dropped for me on what Guy Debord was hiding underneath all his academese and philosophical bafflegab.
Capitalism commodifies everything, right down to the iconic images of your heroes, and right down to your own experiences. That's what the Society of the Spectacle is about, at its core. When I plunked down my $30 to see Saul Williams, I'm not being sold entertainment. I'm the one engaged in and creating my own enjoyment of that show. The sad bastard shushing the crowd did not see the same show I did, dancing with at times total abandon alongside two awesome, gorgeous people (my co-worker was there with another friend) and getting my eyes and ears opened to the existence and power of two artists I was ignorant of until that moment.
No, what I'd been sold for my $30 was access. Privilege. The commodity, in this case, was the opportunity to engage in and create my enjoyment. If the show had been free, fundamentally, my experience would have been exactly the same.
In Situationist language, a spectacle is a commodified experience. A situation is a non-commodified experience. Dunno why it took so long for that simple distinction to clue in for me, but there it is.
Now that I understand it, though, I'm not sure that distinction is an entirely terrible thing in some cases.
Take pirated content, for instance. Sure, I can download a digital copy of a movie for free and watch it at home, but that's an entirely different experience from watching it in a darkened movie palace in 70 mm. Frankly, that's a privilege I am happy to pay for. Recorded music, on the other hand, there's no difference at all between buying a little CD or downloading the tracks for free. (Again, though, a lovely piece of vinyl with a great piece of art on the sleeve... different experience altogether. Which perhaps explains why vinyl didn't die when it was supposed to.)
Or take what I've always jokingly referred to as my two big Situationist events of the year, Nuit Blanche and TIFF. In both cases I can literally wander the streets and enjoy art or movies for "free" (never mind that someone is footing the bill for my participation somewhere along the way, and that I'm bombarded by advertisements in both. The fact is that I don't have to take money out of my wallet for the privilege.) Nuit Blanche, being just one evening long, is no problem. TIFF though, more and more I find that I simply can't live for 10 days straight in that mindset. It's not that I feel compelled to rush out and spend money on something. It's that 10 consecutive days of nothing but experience burns me out. I need time to process those experiences in some fashion, rather than just pile one on top of the other.
From this new perspective, I also realize that the one true Situationist joy in my life is my beloved karaoke addiction. I can wander into a bar, sing and be sung to, and never have to pay a dime to do it. (Of course, the expectation that you will buy food or booze or whatever is there, to keep the bar afloat, but it's not a requirement. It's a very PWYC kind of community.) But again, I couldn't do it 24/7.
The distinction between spectacle and situation is an important one, especially in a media-driven culture like ours, and it's one Hollywood would do well to understand and embrace as it watches its business model crumble around its ears. But unlike Guy Debord, I don't have enough Marxism in my blood to decry that distinction as an inherently evil one.
Hallowe'en Party Tunes You Probably Don't Know But Should
So you've got your Monster Mash, your Thriller, your Werewolves of London, your Dead Man's Party, your Sabbath and Alice Cooper, your Buffy, Crow and Rocky Horror soundtracks... your Hallowe'en party playlist is all set, right?
Sure, if you're pedestrian and bourgeois.
Here are some suggestions for songs you (and your guests) may not know, but will fit right in for any Hallowe'en party. In no particular order:
1) 'til the Following Night - Screaming Lord Sutch
Really, any Screaming Lord Sutch song will do, since he was a weird dude who liked to dress up in a cape and pretty much only sing songs about things that go bump in the night, but this one has ridiculous Joe Meek scary sound effects over top of it, as well as a groovin' saxophone, and as such has become his signature tune. If you want something even more obscure, try Dracula's Daughter which is just too perfectly silly for words, from the lyrics (bonus points for the "meet the old bat" pun) right down to the guitar riff ripped off from the Hawaii Five-O theme.
2) Werewolf - Five Man Electrical Band
Yes, this was a single. You gotta love the way Mama is rooting for her son to maul her husband towards the end of the song.
3) Don't Shake Me Lucifer - Roky Erickson
Roky's another one where you could use almost any song in his solo catalogue for a Hallowe'en mix, but I'm partial to this one, which is actually damn catchy while being light on the monsters but heavy on the Satan.
4) Excitable Boy - Warren Zevon
Wait a minute, there's another Warren Zevon tune worth playing at Hallowe'en? Hellz yeah there is. Excitable Boy is part of a long line of party-time rock tunes about killers which stretches all the way back to the Beatles' Maxwell's Silver Hammer *. Oingo Boingo's Only a Lad is another standout in the subgenre, but for my money Warren's entry can't be beat, what with the jaunty piano, yackety sax and happy ooh-waa backup singers providing a deranged counterpoint to lyrics like "he took little Suzie to the junior prom / he raped her and killed her, then he took her home".
* this is not actually a link to the Beatles' version of the song, but something infinitely more horrific. You've been warned.
5) Dig It Up - Hoodoo Gurus
The song the Cramps wish they'd recorded. (Also, add some Cramps to the Hallowe'en mix if you haven't already, even if it's just Human Fly). Dig It Up is also the best song about necrophilia ever. EVER. This is not an opinion, it's proven scientific fact.
6) Bloodletting (The Vampire Song) - Concrete Blonde
I wasn't going to put this on the list because I thought it was too obvious, but then I noticed that it wasn't on any of the "Top XX Hallowe'en Songs" lists I looked at before writing this. For shame, internets!
7) Jolene - Queen Adreena
This is not what Dolly Parton had in mind when she wrote the song.
In Queen Adreena's hands Jolene isn't just some jezebel, but a dead lover come back to claim her man and drag him down to hell with her, or maybe an autumn-haired succubus roaming the moors looking for fresh blood. Whoever she is, she sounds like somebody I want to party with though.
8) like a flickering celluloid moonbeam on the view screen - Prince Charming
This whole album, Psychotropical Heatwave, is the album your mother warned you about. It's indescribable, some sort of jungley-dubby-bassy-apocalyptic hellride through your subconscious, where just when you think you have a handle on what's going on, bam! They hit you with a Peter and the Wolf sample. I haven't gotten down to NYC for Blackout yet, but if this album were Blackout's soundtrack it wouldn't surprise me one bit.
I picked this track in particular because it's rather subtly unsettling, and also has the shortest title.
Sure, if you're pedestrian and bourgeois.
Here are some suggestions for songs you (and your guests) may not know, but will fit right in for any Hallowe'en party. In no particular order:
1) 'til the Following Night - Screaming Lord Sutch
Really, any Screaming Lord Sutch song will do, since he was a weird dude who liked to dress up in a cape and pretty much only sing songs about things that go bump in the night, but this one has ridiculous Joe Meek scary sound effects over top of it, as well as a groovin' saxophone, and as such has become his signature tune. If you want something even more obscure, try Dracula's Daughter which is just too perfectly silly for words, from the lyrics (bonus points for the "meet the old bat" pun) right down to the guitar riff ripped off from the Hawaii Five-O theme.
2) Werewolf - Five Man Electrical Band
Yes, this was a single. You gotta love the way Mama is rooting for her son to maul her husband towards the end of the song.
3) Don't Shake Me Lucifer - Roky Erickson
Roky's another one where you could use almost any song in his solo catalogue for a Hallowe'en mix, but I'm partial to this one, which is actually damn catchy while being light on the monsters but heavy on the Satan.
4) Excitable Boy - Warren Zevon
Wait a minute, there's another Warren Zevon tune worth playing at Hallowe'en? Hellz yeah there is. Excitable Boy is part of a long line of party-time rock tunes about killers which stretches all the way back to the Beatles' Maxwell's Silver Hammer *. Oingo Boingo's Only a Lad is another standout in the subgenre, but for my money Warren's entry can't be beat, what with the jaunty piano, yackety sax and happy ooh-waa backup singers providing a deranged counterpoint to lyrics like "he took little Suzie to the junior prom / he raped her and killed her, then he took her home".
* this is not actually a link to the Beatles' version of the song, but something infinitely more horrific. You've been warned.
5) Dig It Up - Hoodoo Gurus
The song the Cramps wish they'd recorded. (Also, add some Cramps to the Hallowe'en mix if you haven't already, even if it's just Human Fly). Dig It Up is also the best song about necrophilia ever. EVER. This is not an opinion, it's proven scientific fact.
6) Bloodletting (The Vampire Song) - Concrete Blonde
I wasn't going to put this on the list because I thought it was too obvious, but then I noticed that it wasn't on any of the "Top XX Hallowe'en Songs" lists I looked at before writing this. For shame, internets!
7) Jolene - Queen Adreena
This is not what Dolly Parton had in mind when she wrote the song.
In Queen Adreena's hands Jolene isn't just some jezebel, but a dead lover come back to claim her man and drag him down to hell with her, or maybe an autumn-haired succubus roaming the moors looking for fresh blood. Whoever she is, she sounds like somebody I want to party with though.
8) like a flickering celluloid moonbeam on the view screen - Prince Charming
This whole album, Psychotropical Heatwave, is the album your mother warned you about. It's indescribable, some sort of jungley-dubby-bassy-apocalyptic hellride through your subconscious, where just when you think you have a handle on what's going on, bam! They hit you with a Peter and the Wolf sample. I haven't gotten down to NYC for Blackout yet, but if this album were Blackout's soundtrack it wouldn't surprise me one bit.
I picked this track in particular because it's rather subtly unsettling, and also has the shortest title.
First New Music Find of 2011
Religious To Damn. If they remind me of anyone it would be a darker, gothier Gentle Creatures-era Tarnation, but who the heck remembers them but me?
Debut album comes out in February. Hopefully a Toronto tour date will follow.
Religious to Damn "Drifter" Music Video from Jason Akira Somma on Vimeo.
Debut album comes out in February. Hopefully a Toronto tour date will follow.
Concert Season Is Upon Me
Wow, there are actually bands I want to see playing in town over the next couple of months.
The Flowers of Hell have the release party for their new album & DVD on November 13th, then Fang Island come back to town on the 16th.
And at the beginning of December, my favorite band from the early '90s Toronto indie scene, Lowest of the Low, stagger back out for a couple of shows at Lee's Palace (the only venue they should ever play, in the interest of moribund nostalgia).
UPDATE: Figures. The Flowers of Hell show is up against the roller derby finals, which I've already told a couple of people I was gonna attend.
The Flowers of Hell have the release party for their new album & DVD on November 13th, then Fang Island come back to town on the 16th.
And at the beginning of December, my favorite band from the early '90s Toronto indie scene, Lowest of the Low, stagger back out for a couple of shows at Lee's Palace (the only venue they should ever play, in the interest of moribund nostalgia).
UPDATE: Figures. The Flowers of Hell show is up against the roller derby finals, which I've already told a couple of people I was gonna attend.
Even When We Used To Take Drugs
Saw the Stone Temple Pilots concert tonight. Good show, even though they were surprisingly ragged in spots, and Weiland seemed way out of it -- even screwing up the lyrics to Big Empty. Given the tumble he took in Cincinnati a few days ago, I'm really really hoping it was just due to pain killers.
Cage the Elephant opened, and well, yeah. Your typical "the rest of our stuff sounds nothing whatsoever like our hit single" opening act who will disappear from whence they came soon enough.
Cage the Elephant opened, and well, yeah. Your typical "the rest of our stuff sounds nothing whatsoever like our hit single" opening act who will disappear from whence they came soon enough.
Brain Hurt Now
I probably should have stopped at those four rather than watching the epic "Grill Skillz" two-parter:
Once you get past a drunk Dave Thomas, it really takes off into Crazytown. The most terrifying thing about Grill Skillz? The idea that Wendy's might actually have its own in-house music publishing company, Wendy's Music International.
Once you get past a drunk Dave Thomas, it really takes off into Crazytown. The most terrifying thing about Grill Skillz? The idea that Wendy's might actually have its own in-house music publishing company, Wendy's Music International.
God Bless You StrangerRandy
I don't know who you are, but you have done the world a great service by making these fine Wendy's training videos from the early 90s available to all.
I expect mashups and club remixes by the time I wake up tomorrow. Get to work, people!
(h/t minion of Sully)
I expect mashups and club remixes by the time I wake up tomorrow. Get to work, people!
(h/t minion of Sully)
Wyclef Finds His Niche
I've got approximately zero respect for Wyclef as a musician, but he might be a perfect fit as president of Haiti. He's a natural successor to pretty much every other president the country's ever had: he's egotistical, and already has a track record of syphoning money out of the country to line his own pockets. Plus, we've already seen a glimpse of the kinds of fuckery he'd be up to if he had that kind of juice.
I'd start calling him Papa Jean, but people might get confused and think he was starting a pizza chain.
I'd start calling him Papa Jean, but people might get confused and think he was starting a pizza chain.
Sometimes, the Jokes Write Themselves
Kings of Leon cut short a St. Louis gig after they get shat on by pigeons.
A Million Little Gods Causing Rain Storms
Arcade Fire will be live streaming their August 5th Madison Square Garden concert on Youtube.
Hee hee!
I may have to see if I can commandeer my friend's big-ass home theatre set-up for that one. Even though he doesn't actually much like the band, he might do it just for the novelty of it.
Hee hee!
I may have to see if I can commandeer my friend's big-ass home theatre set-up for that one. Even though he doesn't actually much like the band, he might do it just for the novelty of it.
That's Me All Over
My tentacles were apparently reaching everywhere today, as another of email of mine ended up on Sully. If I helped introduce the Presets to new people, then I have done some good.
Scott Stapp Is No David Hasselhoff
The Marlins commissioned former Creed lead drinkersinger Scott Stapp to create an inspiring theme song for the team. Instead, he gave them this:
On the unintentional comedy scale it's not a bad effort at all. The mental image of a three-quarter ton fish soaring gracefully through the air is hella stupid, and Stapp's We Didn't Start the Fire-esque litany of random baseball terms in the second verse makes you wonder if he's ever actually seen a game of baseball, or just did a Google search.
But what's with the video? So disappointing. At the very least, I want Stapp green-screening himself into some footage and hitting a home run or making a diving catch. Or better still, being the first guy to run in and hug Josh Beckett after they won their second World Series. I mean, he's already got the jersey with 'Stapp' on the back.
Scott, buddy, if you want to be taken seriously as an ironic rock icon (and let's be honest, that might be your only remaining shot at staying relatively famous) you are really going to have to step it up a notch.
On the unintentional comedy scale it's not a bad effort at all. The mental image of a three-quarter ton fish soaring gracefully through the air is hella stupid, and Stapp's We Didn't Start the Fire-esque litany of random baseball terms in the second verse makes you wonder if he's ever actually seen a game of baseball, or just did a Google search.
But what's with the video? So disappointing. At the very least, I want Stapp green-screening himself into some footage and hitting a home run or making a diving catch. Or better still, being the first guy to run in and hug Josh Beckett after they won their second World Series. I mean, he's already got the jersey with 'Stapp' on the back.
Scott, buddy, if you want to be taken seriously as an ironic rock icon (and let's be honest, that might be your only remaining shot at staying relatively famous) you are really going to have to step it up a notch.
Cheno-riffic!
Kristin Chenoweth will be carolling outside Holt Renfrew this evening at 6:30.
I'm supposed to be getting my internet hooked up at my new apartment sometime between 5 and 8 this evening.
Feh.
I'm supposed to be getting my internet hooked up at my new apartment sometime between 5 and 8 this evening.
Feh.
Leave Comedy To the Rabbits
So last night CJ linked to this Onion News Network piece, which I thought was the awesomest bit of basketball-related funny I'd ever seen.
Then Conor linked to this:
The moral of the story: No matter how good the professionals are at comedy, they eventually get trumped by someone with a tragic lack of self-awareness.
Then Conor linked to this:
The moral of the story: No matter how good the professionals are at comedy, they eventually get trumped by someone with a tragic lack of self-awareness.
Please Let Arcade Fire Cover Moribund the Burgermeister
While a Gabriel covers album sounds like a good idea, the hint that these are "swap songs" and that the covered artists will, in turn, do Gabriel covers is an even better one.
Radiohead doing Biko, perhaps? Regina Spektor tackling Big Time? Bowie doing... hell, whatever he wants.
Cover albums are always a risky proposition, but this one has a shot at being Stay Awake-level awesome.
Radiohead doing Biko, perhaps? Regina Spektor tackling Big Time? Bowie doing... hell, whatever he wants.
Cover albums are always a risky proposition, but this one has a shot at being Stay Awake-level awesome.
Novak's Gone
While Robert Novak became a vicious, twisted caricature of a journalist at the end of his career, easily duped and used by people who knew what buttons to push with him, he does get a wee bit of respect from me for having been a cantankerous, contentious bastard pretty much from Day One.
Frankly, journalism needs more cantankerous, contentious bastards.
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