Diary of a Finger Popper

What's Missing from the News?

2007-11-08T00:22:00.000-05:00

It's been a month and I haven't stopped hearing about how revolutionary and pioneering it is for Radiohead to let fans pay-what-they-feel-its-latest-album-is-worth. Sure, I applaud the band's decision because even if it isn't a success as this article alludes, it was surely worth the publicity in unusual sources like PC World. But for the love of Kipling's Six Honest Serving Men Radiohead aren't the first major label artists to do this.

Juliana Hatfield used the honor system since at least last year and Jane Siberry's been doing it since before iPods played videos and years before Radiohead refused to offer its catalogue digitally on iTunes. Now Radiohead are far more popular than Siberry and the "So-Called Angel" squared, but that doesn't excuse the lazy reporting.

A Google News search for Radiohead and Juliana Hatfield brings up a single meaningful result. To count the results for Jane Siberry and Radiohead I need both my hands—slight better. If you type in Radiohead alone (as of Nov 8) the first group of articles, on the one month update of the In Rainbows digital release, is 218. I'm going to need all my friends and their friends' friends' fingers and toes if I want to count every article about Radiohead's In Rainbows.

It's been a mere month and people already erroneously think Radiohead invented the honor system of payment for digitally distributed music. I'd hate to see how a couple years distorts things even further if the practice becomes common place.

I know this is a relatively trivial example to focus on, but this is why Jon Stewart was absolutely correct when he ripped the hosts of Crossfire and the media in general for harming the America by not properly and fully informing the public.

Granted Stewart's rant was more about the media's responsibility to be a government watchdog by objectively questioning and challenging the government's motives and actions rather than missing some key context for a story. His point still applies here, though.

Now I graduated with a Bachelor Journalism so maybe I'm being overly sensitive about not seeing Siberry and Hatfield mentioned in all but a couple handfuls of articles. But I happen to think that if somebody tells me another person did something a little out of the ordinary, let alone revolutionary, my first reaction is to find out how that person thought-up the idea. But shortly after and somewhat related, I want to know if somebody has done this or something similar before. It is only smart to benefit from others' experiences. Now I happen to remember reading about Juliana Hatfield's honor system last year so I already knew Radiohead's distribution model wasn't as revolutionary as I was reading and hearing.

I know that deadlines are frequently tight. Reporters don't often know a lot about subject they're assigned to cover because the staff sizes are usually too small to allow for specialisation. That being said, I thought I'd throw a few phrases into Google to see how hard it was to come up with either Siberry or Hatfield. I put "musician pay what you can" into Google and the third hit is "Jane Siberry Opens a Window On a Better Download". If you change the query to "musician honor system" the ninth hit on the third page (29 overall) is "Stereogum: Juliana Hatfield Free". Now if you didn't know what you were looking for and had some deadline pressure you might have missed the Hatfield link, but how on earth do you miss the Siberry link?

Is it really asking too much that a journalist does two minutes of searching and maybe fifteen minutes of research before writing an article? I know a premium is put on reporting news first (as the story breaks) and in some cases that's very valuable. If the ground starts shaking suddenly you probably want to confirm that you're in an Earthquake, so you can prepare for aftershocks and ensure all your loved ones are safe. But if a story isn't that time critical (and really what is?) journalists need to slow down and demand more time and more space for their stories because without the context and the details they really aren't telling the public anything valuable.

A Parallelogram with Four Congruent Sides and a Carelessly Concocted Frosty Beverage of Blended Milk, Ice Cream and Flavourings!

2007-10-22T21:32:00.000-04:00

A while back I wrote about how Pancake Mountain has to be the greatest children's show ever produced.

It's refreshing to see a show that entertains kids and attempts to provide a little education, yet doesn't numb the minds of adults. Plus it can't hurt to introduce the kiddies to music not in the Top-40 and to deliver everything with a bit of satirical edge.

That being said the audience for Pancake Mountain cannot solely be indie parents and their children. I think that after a night of Sex Drugs and Rock 'n' Roll hipsters would love to wind down with a little bit more rock and some absurdity that doesn't require too much concentration.

But as good as Pancake Mountain is for a hipster hangover, this surpasses it. I'd like to explain it to you…but I can't. I can follow the plot and I understand that the seemingly random, irrelevant scenes mimic the A.D.D.-like attentions spans we have today. That being said I can't decide if this is just some sloppy milkshake's animated doodle or a brilliant cartoon.

Freeze-frame High-five, Phone-five and Suit-up All Wrapped into One!

2007-09-24T19:32:00.000-04:00

Gather 'round kids 'cause I'm about to drop some knowledge:
Tonight's the return of How I Met Your Mother. After a summer of apprenticing at the Barney Stinson Institute of Barnication I have turned my buddy Ted into the best wingman not named Barney Stinson. Yes, his lack of Stinson DNA was a formidable obstacle but our boy overcame his genetic deficiency. It really was a thing of beauty to see him grow a pair and house them in finest bespoke-three-button-double-vented-soft-shouldered-super-120-wool, lock in on a cutlet, tame the coug, bag a sixteen, met the woman of his dreams and then didn't call her the next day. Heck he almost rack-jacked me.

So to get get you in the mood for tonight I present to you a Barntastic collection of awesomeness dudeship known as my greatest hits

P.S. Cute as a button Mandy Moore be guest staring. You better be watching because it's going to be Legend-wait-for-it-and-I-hope-you're-not-lactose-Inoterent-becuase-the-second-half-of-this-word-is-dairy.

Barney

The Queen of Pain has a sense of humour. Who would've thought? It figures.

2007-04-04T10:17:00.000-04:00

Alanis Morissette has probably been called every positive and negative superlative. Heck, she was the biggest pop star in the world (between 1995-1996) during what was probably that last golden age of record sales. That kind of ubiquity breeds hatred and love in equally massive proportions. Far too much of the coverage was focused on defending her or deriding her for Jagged Little Pill. Whether you like the album or not is irrelevant because if it was released a year earlier or a year later it would never have become the phenomenon it did and there's no way I'd be writing about this. It was the right time, the right sound and the right marketing to the right audience; but that's a bit of a digression.

Now what hardly gets mentioned when people write or talk about Alanis is her wicked sense of humor. If you've seen Dogma, Feast on Scraps and or watched the 2004 Junos you know the lady not all fury, spirituality and dysfunctional relationships.

Although those were good for a chuckle she really deserves some accolades for with this cover of My Humps. It's absolutely brilliant satire. When you hear the original on the radio it sounds dumb. And Stacey Ferguson and the rest of the Black Eyed Peas made a video to match the ambition and scope of the song's message. But when the song's slowed down to the tempo Alanis has performed it at and stripped it down to a bare piano track there's nothing to distract you from the vapid lyrics. It really is and how deplorable that My Humps won a Grammy, reached number three on the Billboard Top 40 and was number one in Lithuania. Actually Lithuania gets a pass becuase they may not have quite understood all the euphemisms, but shame on you Ireland, Australia and New Zealand. What's your excuse?

Don't get me wrong I do love an escapist pop song to get 'em storming the dance floor (I've got reference if you'd like), but there really is nothing redeemable about this tune—except maybe this cover.

Is anyone else disturbed that Alanis makes a frighteningly convincing Chavette. I swore I heard her say 'innit?' at the end of the video.

Suit-up. We're Going to the Mall Today and it's Going to be Legendary!

2006-11-21T10:36:00.000-05:00

I think I may have witnessed the greatest half-hour of situation comedy this decade. Whoever was responsible for writing yesterday's episode of How I Met Your Mother deserves a monument, some currency and a statutory holiday in his/her/their honour.

If you've never seen How I met Your Mother then for shame! But seriously The premise is an architect named Ted, who through the use of an occasional Bob Saget voiceover, is explaining to his kids how he met their mom. Yes, it sounds overly cute, but it's more The Princess Bride than eye-roll-inducing-neverending anecdote. Generally I get more than a few laughs out of the relationship and dating shenanigans of twenty-something Ted, best friend Marshall, his fiancé Liliy, Robin and Barney. But yesterday it was absolutely brilliant. First there was "slap bet" between Barney and Marshall. It will fit nicely in amongst the the "lemon law", "phone-five", the "rack-jack", "legnd-ary" and the mulitple variations of "suit-up".

But the real gem yesterday was the Robin Sparkles video. Perhaps Bob made a trip to the writers meeting to tell the story about his days at Full House with Uncle Joey; regardless this is the perfect parody of early Alanis Morissette (back when she was just Alanis and singing songs like Plastic. The song nails the production values, choreography and wardrobe or an American '80s Tiffany video or a Canadian early '90s Alanis video—sometimes things catch on slower here. If that wasn't enough the song references those cool Robot butler toys and Prime Minister Brian Mulroney getting down. So in honour of the show's writers and Robin Sparkle I'm off to the mall to get season one of How I met Your Mother on DVD, today.

Watch the video below.

Grab the Mp3 and be Robin's friend here.

Read Barney's blog here.

Dog Bites Bear And I Don't Mean McGruff Busting Yogi

2006-08-04T00:12:00.000-04:00

Man alive this has to be the funniest story I’ve read since the one about the Santa who fell off the float and scared the kiddies with a gash needing E.R. treatment. An entire course at every J-school needs to be devoted to studying the brilliance of that story’s lead.

What I simply cannot fathom is that this came as a surprise.

Sure it’s a given that the insurance company is going to demand some substantial security for a public exhibition of a collection of that value. But the closest the poindexter who insisted upon a guard dog must have come to a canine is a Tamagotchi. My satirical mind is convinced the insurance meeting probably went like this:

“What’s on the agenda today?”

“Some teddy bear museum wants insurance.”

“Let’s have a dog guard a room full of valuable teddybears that it probably considers chew toys.”

“Absolutely brilliant. Make it so.”

“Anything else.”

“No.”

“Then can we go swimming in the money pit again?”

“No…today you earned a visit to the diamond-filled one.”

Now in all seriousness the insurance companies aren’t known for rash decisions so how this slipped by is beyond me. I could only imagine one worse scenario than what actually occured. Believe me it took some time but I think I've just managed to top it. Have a dog guard a room full of one-of-a-kind dinosaur bones covered in dog treats attached to rubber balls (reeking of the scent of hundred of other dogs) being tossed back and forth.

But that lowly insurance worker (who was surely shitcanned as a result of this decision) doesn’t earn all of the blame here. How can you not have the (donated) star attraction of the exhibit under some sort protection at all times? Then again this was the Wookey Bear Collection at Wookey Hole Caves? No I didn't make that up. I'm not that creative. How hilarious is that page’s picture?

At least this story gave some journalists the opportunity to have a little fun. “Having got a taste for stuffing, Barney then went on to maul several other toys.” Richard Alleyne you cheeky bugger this story was like Christmas morning for you wasn’t it?

Bella Italia

2006-07-19T09:36:00.000-04:00

It was a whim. The door opened and a tiled black "Christie" was staring at me. So I stepped through the doors and before I realised it I was on a familiar path down Grace and on to College. When i got there what I saw was beautiful.
The Tricolore was everywhere.

I saw nona, madre and bambini parading together up and down the streets.

I saw people my age, people my parents age, people their parents age and people their grand children's age playing "keep-up" in a circle. Together!

I saw people of Asian decent holding Italian flags with friends of Italian decent.

I saw dancing in the streets.

I saw people shouting from rooftops.

I saw a good handful of blocks, normally congested with cars, taxis and limos every weekend, overrun with pedestrians.

And I saw smiles. Oh did I see smiles. I couldn't find a single person who wasn't happy to be there. Heck even I couldn't stop smiling.

Yes it would've been nice if were an even more multi-cultural, more generational and we were celebrating something our country had accomplished. And maybe some day Canada will win the World Cup and 2006 will be considered nothing more than a small gathering.

But in the mean time it was wonderful to see a kind of kinship and celebration that's rarely seen in a modern city where we don't even care enough to know our neighbours' names or can't even be bothered to make it cross town to visit family or friends on a weekly basis.

Yes I know I've expressed an uneasiness with my heritage in the past. But today I'm proud.

So I walked up and down Little Italy with a prima-grin, quietly observing and contently munching on my coppetta of gelato just as my parents told me I had done in 1982—technically in '82 I was being pushed in a stroller. On Sunday I saw little bambini doing just that. Hopefully they won't have to wait 24 years to do it again.

Forza Italia and Go Canada the True North strong and free.

The sports world is absolutely cruel

2006-07-17T09:26:00.000-04:00

It's hardly a secret that I adore the Belgians and their culture. With a food culture that on the whole I consider to be the finest in the world as well as beer and chocolate that that has no equal, it would be impossible for me not to like the land and its peoples. But after the visiting and meeting the kind people, being awed but the endless number of stunningly beautiful churches and being moved to tears at their equivalent to Canada's Remembrance Day ceremonies I really did fall in love with the country.

But what does this have to do with sports?

While most of the world was entirely fixated on a bunch of very rich men kicking around ball in the name of national pride. London was hosting the world's most prestigious tennis tournament. It just of happens that after a really difficult year-and-a-half with a protracted and initially undiagnosed bout of mono as well as a hamstring and a shoulder injury my favourite player Justine Henin-Hardenne has been on a real tear. She was all set to grab the one slam missing from her career accomplishments until Amelie Mauresmo decided in the second set of the final that this was the time to prove all her critics wrong.

I'm sure sure Amilie a nice enough woman and I always love it when a player makes a fool of the know-it-all critical sports writers. But her timing couldn't have come at a worse time as far as I'm concerned.

You see although Belgium is blessed with two top female tennis players (the other being Kim Clijsters) the country isn't united in their support of both. The country is split between the richer, more populous Dutch speaking North and the less populous, relatively rural Francophone South*. For those of you with a knowledge of Canada the underlying tension in Belgium is somewhat similar to the relationship between Quebec and English-speaking Canada. Although this is fascinating aspect of both Canadian and Belgian culture exploring it further would be a digression. Clijsters is the pride of Flanders (the Dutch speaking part) and Henin-Hardenne is the pride Wallonia (the French speaking part), in particular Liège—her birth city.

And right now Liège town is that could use some good news.

As Canada was getting ready to celebrate its birthday. Liège was burying a 7-year-old girl and her 10-year-old step-sister. An 18-day search for them ended when their bodies were found on the side of railway tracks. It appears they were raped and strangled.

To make the tragedy worse 11 years ago two 8-year-old girls from were kidnapped form Liège, locked in a basement and left to starve to death while the pedophile who did it was serving time for a minor offense.

I never got the chance to visit Liège, but as a member of the human race it absolutely breaks my heart that this town has had to suffer these deplorable crimes twice.

Absolutely nothing could make up for these greatest of tragedies. But I was hoping that on Saturday a win by the town's most famous daughter could have provided the most momentary distraction of good news.

*There's also a very small German speaking province to the East (making the country offical trilingual) and although Brussels is in the Dutch-speaking region it is considered bilingual and a region in iteself.

Today's sign that there's something seriously wrong with the world

2006-07-13T09:54:00.000-04:00

I'm really bothered by this. In fact I'm quite upset. Right now just go to Google News As of a ridiculously late 2 am EDST on Thursday June 13, 2006 the thrid most important story in the World section is about the train bombings in Mumbai. The third most important story in the Sports section is about the Zidane head-butt. Total stories about the train bombings: 1,609. Total stories about the head-butt: 2,976. Does anyone else think it is shameful that a bizarre violent outburst in the world's largest sporting event by one the sport's most famous players is more important than terrorist bombings in the most populous and most important city in one the world's most populous countries?

200 people are dead and hundreds more or injured.

Even though I'm guilty of this too I find it troubling that when London's transit system was attacked by terrorists the outcry seemed much higher in the blogs and news that I read.

Mumbai my thoughts are with you. Especially those who've had to burry loved ones and those who are still searching hospitals hoping to find them alive. Nobody should ever have to experience that tragedy.

Cat? Geneticaly, no. Dog? Technicaly, yes. Bad haircut by supposedly smarter owners? Most definately

2006-05-19T18:04:00.000-04:00

Cat? Geneticaly, no.
Dog? Technicaly, yes. Bad haircut by supposedly smarter owners? Most definately.

This blog entry was posted directly from my cellphone powered by AmbientVector.

In this man's hands the music will most definitely last

2006-04-23T22:01:00.000-04:00

If you were in the GTA on Friday night and you weren't at Lee's Palace you should be simultaneously kicking yourself in the head, stomach, kidneys and groin. The reason? You missed what is Toronto's gig of the year if not this young century.

If you ask me Jamie Lidell's soul/R&B soaked and electronically tinged Multiply was 2005's album of the year. But his live show…well…it's absolutely mind-blowing.

Take the twitchy electronic flourishes of Four Tet, beatboxing à la Rahzel, some of the resonant techno of Ellen Allien, the soul-funk of Sly and the Family Stone and the nerdy-extroverted stage presence of Jarvis Cocker and you've got the vaguest idea of Lidell live.

I know that sounds like sonic equivalent of combining a Mondrian, a Pollack, a Dalí, a Monet and a Warhol. But rather than a derivative abysmal mess Lidell creates something entirely original and stunningly beautiful.

Coming on stage in an off-white trench, thick glasses and a shaggy haircut, Liddell looked every bit the quiet music nerd. Not exactly the outfit you'd expect from someone whose record has more soul than the entire Billboard R&B 100 combined. But by the show's end the coat was off and the man was recalling Britpop's great frontmen with jerky dance moves (sorry Lidell's footwork is no match for James Brown) and working the crowd into a sweaty mess like Motown's greats.

Those who've listened to Multiply are in for completely different experience hearing it live. Much of the time you can only make out an abstract sketch of the album versions. For instance the sampled "A little bit more, a little bit more" vocal that dominates the beat of the album cut of the same name is only introduced three-quarters of the way through the live version. Sampled live, Lidell uses his vocal as more of a sonic flourish than the backbone of a beat.

What really impresses about Lidell's live shows is the man's ability to create a song seemingly out of nothing. Numerous times he'd tuck his head in his shoulder, shield his face with his hand and start beatboxing. He'd sample it. Then he'd begin layering that with a drum beat. Later he'd sample other vocal orchestration, fiddle with a few knobs and before you'd know it the man would have a tune that would shame even the most notorious studio perfectionist or the most talented nine-pieces.

The whole process was so seamless and subtle that my plus-one looked over a couple songs in and asked 'Did he just create that whole song with his voice?'

Still it wasn't effortless—he was constantly multitasking. He continually darted from one side of his set-up to turn on a sample, scratch some records or lean over his gear from the wrong side to tweak a knob on his soundboard. By the time he finished his encore the sweat on his clothes and the exhaustion in his voice said he gave it his all.

Lidell didn't just showcase the brilliant electronic instincts he honed in Super_Collider and on Muddlin Gear. Some of the night's most enjoyable moments were when he sat down on a stool and let his soulful voice dominate over a minimal beat like on Game For Fools and What Is it This Time?

But what really sold me on Lidell's brilliance was that he managed to get the usual crowd of crossed-armed-cooler-than-thou-indie-kids moving. I'm not just talking about the group of enthusiastic kids a couple rows from the front of the stage who flail their arms singing along to every word. No, Lidell managed to get everyone from those up close in the pit all the way to the back in various states of dance from simple head-boping to all out busting a groove. That's a feat I've yet to see duplicated in this town.

Random Thoughts

2006-04-21T09:39:00.000-04:00

Day 2
Oct. 14
London

Despite constantly staring at buildings with a perplexed look on my face people have stopped to ask me directions not once, not twice, but thrice. Apparently a confused boy in a three-quarter black pea must be some sort of stereotype tourist have of Londoners.

Speaking of getting around, this town does not make it easy. Now I'll admit I'm not the most directionally savvy person but I've never been so lost. I have no problem with putting the street signs on the sides of buildings rather than at the corner of the street, but is it too much to ask that this is done on every corner? Since the streets only seem to be labeled on major intersections it makes for a lot of lost tourists. It's especially trying to find your way around when those street names seem to change without notice when they're interrupted by parks and the like. I'm convinced this is part of that infamous British wit.

I'm perplexed at the popularity of Guinness here. Primarily 'cause its a pretty substandard stout when you've got fairly easy access to the likes of Samuel Smith's Imperial and Oatmeal stouts or Young's Double Chocolate. But then again people in Ontario still drink Canadian when they've got relatively easy access to Creemore (bought by Molson a year ago or so, much to my chagrin). Anyway the popularity of Guinness is also surprising 'cause I thought England's relationship to Ireland was pretty much like the United States' relationship to Canada and there's no way in hell a Canadian beer would ever be so popular in the United States.

Now cartoons and sitcoms have taught me that the French love their cigarettes like no other culture. But I'm convinced that's got to be a myth perpetuated by the American dislike for the Francophonie 'cause I'm convinced the Brits have the French beat when it comes to smoking. I'll bet the only people not smoking here are the tourists. I may come back addicted just from inhaling second hand! I'm little miffed about that 'cause second hand smoke's about as useful as decaffeinated coffee. There's no way in hell I'm going to endure that disgustingness if I'm not getting any of the addictive stimulants in there.

Two nations divided by tips

2006-04-19T09:38:00.000-04:00

Day 1
Oct. 13
London

I'm hanging out in Filthy McNasty's Whiskey Bar. It's a bohemian little joint teeming with a good mix of local working class, artistic types and students in Islington. It's tiny and dim with a nice big wood bar. Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Pogues and other rock posters pass as decor. Apparently not only did the Libertines used to hang out here but Pete and Carl worked behind the bar. The bartender also let me know they allegedly played a gig there from behind the bar. Clearly this is my kind of place.

Despite all this I can't quite enjoy myself. Apparently you can still smoke in London's bars. You don't realise how awful this is as a non-smoker till you've become accustomed to breathing clean air while enjoying a drink. I remembered going back to Toronto after Ottawa had banned smoking in bars and restaurants and after a night out I would come home and be disgusted that my clothes, skin and even hair reeked of cigarette smoke. I've got no problem with people smoking, but not in an enclosed place where the public convenes 'cause that encroaches upon my right to breath clean air. The point where you encroach upon the rights of others is the point where you begin losing personal freedoms and privileges.

My second issue tonight is with the bartender. I asked for a double of a 12-year-old special reserve Glenfiddich, neat.

"Would you like that with ice?" he responds.

I couldn't believe it. Maybe he didn't hear the neat part but this is a whiskey bar. Clearly youi'd expect staff to have some degree of expertise on product. I proceed to give him a bit of a scolding along the lines of 'you just don't put that kind of Scotch on ice under any circumstances'. It turns out it's his second shift so I give him a break, but he does claim some people actually order that with ice—not if it was my bar.

I give him the extra 50 pence left over after the drink order.

"Bless you my son", he say.

I look around. Nobody's sneezed.

I clue in.

"Oh, do you mean to tell me that people don't tip bartenders here?"

"Well it's consider polite to tip, but most people don't."

"It's pretty much expected back home in Canada. How much do you make?"

"Four pound twenty-five."

"Is that minimum wage?"

He nods.

"Generally, tipping is expected to help supplement bartenders' wages so they can make a decent living."

"Yes, but bartending is considered more of a respected profession in North America."

I stifle laughter.

"Here most bartenders are just kids trying to pay for school."

"It's the same back home in Toronto"

"Yes but you have to take courses in North America to be a bartender. Here you just come up to the owner and say 'I want to be a bartender'. If you pass a health and safety course the job is your's".

Now I'm not sure if the situation on both sides of the Atlantic is exactly as he says, but it definitely hits me that I'm quite far from North America. Excellent, perspective on differences and similarities in cultures exactly what I hoped to gain from this trip.

Later on that evening I get to experience the traditional last call bell; a tactful and understated hint by the boss for the bartender to quit chatting with me and serve the customers*; a few bar sing-alongs; and some people begging for drinks after last call only to be turned down (but not without the bartender asking the boss first)—don't worry they were given plastic cups so they could drink their own booze off premises.

Man this is gonna be fun but they really gotta do something about the smoking—apparently they are

*It was really busy despite it being far from packed. The dishwasher was going constantly 'cause as another bartender pointed out to me there may not be a lot of people here but they're all definitely drinkers.

Something's Hilarious in the State of Denmark

2006-03-31T10:13:00.000-05:00

No this isn't about my trip but it is somewhat related. Frankly I couldn't help myself from sharing this when I found the link—enjoy!

This kind soul has posted Jason Jone's brilliant satirical two-parter "What's the Matter with Denmark?"

I highly recommend it as great lampoon on American culture with a little self-deprecating bit on the Daily Show itself in part one.

I'm really shocked that Jason made it out alive. Clearly the people of Denmark have a great tolerance for idiocy.

Part 1
Part 2
(both in glorious Quicktime)

Dogs bite man for excessive walking

2006-03-30T16:15:00.000-05:00

Day 1 Oct. 13
London

Man alive, am I stupid. And not just brain-fart-stupid. No I'm the worthy of an award-kind-of-stupid.

I got a shit-ton of good advice from the experienced sales person at Europe Bound. Get a good pair of hiking/shoes boots if I didn't have a pair, he stressed. But being the fashionista/know-it-all that I am, I figured that if I'm strictly exploring sites in the city all I should need is a pair of fashionable light trainers.

Wrong poindexter!

I didn't even make it past hour five of exploring before I would've gladly lopped off my toes if I had the means. Right now they're so incredibly sore from banging into the toe box with every step that means be damned I will separate these things from my body. I'd also love to amputate the balls of my feet. Although thin soles generally make for light kicks they don't necessarily mean ample cushioning for walking all day. Actually what I'd really love to do is swap feet with you right now. I don't care if they stank like you ran a marathon or if they're full of bunions, corns and ingrown toe nails. Heck I'll take 'em even if you've got trench foot—actually no on the the trench foot

Thanks to my stupidity I spent the good part of the day limping around in search of suitable footwear. I can't complain about wasting valuable exploring time, 'cause my stupidity caused this situation.

I started my search (to replace my beloved Ben Sherman's) at my beloved Ben Sherman's flagship on Carnaby Street. Alas, they only have white trainers and it's after Labour Day. Plus everything's not fitting right. Now I explore the neighbourhood on the advice of the lovely sales woman (a transplanted Mancunian) and finally get it though my thick skull to pick-up a pair of Merrells.

Although just about every shoe shop has Merrells, the biggest size they stock is a UK size 11. That shouldn't be a problem 'cause that converts to my usual North American 12. After the third store I learn that for Merrells a UK 11 is more like a North American 11.5—a half size too small. Given that my current shoes are unbearable 'cause they're too small I'm definitely not settling on shoes that are a skosh bit tight. At this point I'm convinced there isn't a pair of 12s to be had in a regular store. I'm begging every poor clerk for a clue to the location of a backpackers store in this town.

After the fifth failed attempt I landed upon a shop that was willing to order them for delivery later that week. Unfortunately, I'd be finished my visit to Rome by then, I remarked outloud. Then the too kind store clerk brought over someone with a bit of experience and after hearing my predicament about the shoes and the lock, the angel of clerk was able to point me to the backpacking places—hallelujah!

Unfortunately they're all in Covent Garden, which by this point was an excruciating 45 or so minutes of hobbling. After thanking her and taking another minute of rest I was reluctantly off.

Fifteen minutes later something caught my eye. I stopped dead. My mouth was agape. Across the street from me appeared to be a genuine backpackers store. I quickly darted across the street hoping my mind wasn't projecting my desires onto an unrelated establishment.

It turns out I stumbled upon one of the few backpacking shops outside Covent Garden. My search was over. Since it was located outside the Garden (quite an expensive neighbourhood) I was told this place was cheaper than its sister store—bonus! Not only do they have the Merrells (in my choice of colour), but they've got a replacement red diamond lock. On top of that I'm even able to pick up a waterproof breathable coat that I forgot to pack for 45 Canadian dollars.

Clearly whatever deity that runs this universe is turning into a bit of a softy. But don't tell it I said that I'm only on day one of the trip.

Search for the Red Diamond lock

2006-03-29T09:38:00.000-05:00

Day 1 Oct. 13
London

Okay so after arriving at the hostel at an ungodly hour (a 5 pm EDT departure meant a 5 am GMT arrival), I find out the details of my room and where I can store my bag. I want to start exploring. Now before I'm off I inquire about where I might find a backpackers'/travelers' store so I can replace the locks I'm missing. Curiously the location of a backpackers' store (and possibly the concept) seems to have befuddled the staff. I'm told to check out Euston station up the road. It seems likely that they'd sell luggage locks in a major train station.

After becoming somewhat familiar with neighbourhood and spotting a pretty cool Ghandi statue it's now a reasonable hour.

So on my way back to the hostel I hit Euston to see if the have a replacement lock. There's two workers chatting at the store I was told to look for. This is pretty much how the conversation went.

"Hello, can I help you?"

"Yes. I'm looking to replace some locks that went missing after my flight. They're the kind airport security can open, so they won't slash open your bag."

The man looks somewhat puzzled.

"They have a red diamond on them if that helps."

"Red diamond? You want locks with rubies on them? Is this for the Queen or something?"

Damn British humor.

"No, no" I insist repeating my explanation of the lock and hopelessly trying to draw the logo in the air so he doesn't think I've made this up.

The clerk explains that they have two kind of luggage locks: the key kind, which security can open, and the combo type, which they cannot open. None of these have the red diamond logo but given that I've got no locks I settle for the much cheaper key kind.

I thank the man and I'm on my way. Clearly I've made his day. No doubt thathe'll delight over dinner with a story about some stupid (North) American looking for ruby encrusted luggage locks.

2006-03-22T10:17:00.000-05:00

Hey all!
Remember how I went on a Belgo Britalian adventure late last year. Well I've been sitting on a diary and a wack-full-of-pictures (well I'm still organising the pictures). Since I've neglected this blog I figured I'd turn it into a travel blog for a while and try and share some tips I learned along the way—plus they'll be plenty of pictures and observations thrown in there just to keep things interesting.

Day 1

Hey-Zeus Christ!

I haven't got on the plane and I almost want to go back home.

Now I got to Pearson International quite early, which is always good practice in case unforeseen problems arise. Plus it gives me time to explore.

I decide to check the bags early so I don't have to haul the heavy things around any longer than I have to. I line up. I'm putting the cover on my backpack so none of the straps get caught in the conveyor belt—that's taking me sometime time. Hey I'd rather keep this thing in backpack mode for as long as possible given that the thing weighs about 15 Kg.

Naturally the airline worker is a none too pleased that I'm not immediately ready. That's understandable. He's has a lot of people to check in over the next two-and-half hours (which he's probably not paid very well to do) and if somebody wasn't ready pretty darn close to immediately I'd be a skosh bit perturbed.

I finally finish and place the thing upright on the conveyor belt. the airline worker places pockets side down.

Since whatever force running this universe hates my blasphemous ways and likes to express its displeasure in an Alanis-Morissette-style-'Ironic'-sense-of-humor, the bag gets caught. The fancy lock, which airport security can open to inspect my stuff rather than slash open my bag, happen to look mighty tasty to the hungry belt.

After rolling his eyes and surely cursing under his breath the airline worker shuts off the conveyor and halfheartedly attempts to free my bag with the brute force tug method. Unsuccessful, he say "you're losing your lock." He's already cut the fabric strips attached to the zipper and freed my bag before I can respond.

I hardly blame the guy for doing what he did. He got the bag free and all I lost was a lock and the fabric loops on the zipper. Nonetheless it would've been nice if he with what is likely a ton of experience anticipated this and put my bag down on the opposite side of the lose zippers. Surely I'm not the first person to check a large back pack on this discount airline that specialises in flights to Britain.

But I digress. After freeing my backpack the worker begrudgingly hauls it over to the oversized luggage where I'm confident it will be marked with some secret code that tells the baggage handler to kick it, punch it, throw it and abuse unmentionable it.

The lesson for you all is if you're traveling with a backpack put any covers you have including a rain sheath and or make sure all lose straps are taped down or, zipped away or otherwise not free to be sucked into a piece of moving machinery. Also insist the thing goes down on side that has the least straps zippers, pockets, etc.

Remember how I said I showed up early? That allowed me to visit the overly priced international travel store to replace my lock and pick up an electrical adopter that I had forgotten.

Addendum: Unsurprisingly when I landed in Gatwick my other lock had gone missing too and my luggage did not show up with the other oversized items. Although I was joking about them tagging my bag with the airport equivalent of a 'kick-me' sign, I'm now thinking that may have happened. You'll be damn sure I'll be throwing on the rain sheath on my next flight.

What Would Britpop Jesus Do?

2006-01-27T00:42:00.000-05:00

K-West has got nothing on the BBC and Mancunians. Heck even if Kanye and Mel Gibson had some-sort of love child it simply could compete with the Corp. This manages to be simultaniously the coolest televsion special ever also the most blasphemous.

P.S. Pope Benedict and all the decision makers at the Catholic church should seriously consider hiring the BBC. I'd be at Church every Sunday morning instead of sleeping off my Saturday night of dance floor debachery if the soundtrack was the same classic Madchester and Britpop that was making me be a beautiful dance whore.

MikeD’s Top 10 Singles/Songs of 2005

2006-01-13T17:26:00.001-05:00

Here’s my 2005 best of songs/singles list. Yes it’s belated but life and the holidays got in the way. So note that all songs and singles considered were from the 2005 calendar year. On this list they'll be none of this crap about a 2005 domestic release of a 2004 import material. Reissues also don’t count. It has either got to be original material or an original recording released in 2005. Note that in order to avoid repeating myself I’ve only included songs from albums which didn’t make my best of list. You'll see that shortly. Note all song links are of the control/right click variety.

10.Fistful of Love—Antony and the Johnsons

Even if you’ve got a tough time getting over his vibrato it’s hard to deny that Antony made a heartbreakingly beautiful album. This tune has to be the most beautiful of the bunch. Antony’s usual trill is toned down a bit ad floats over a sparse piano line. Then the brass section comes in. Finally the backup singer’s comes out and it all makes for a gorgeous triumph. This tune has got some feeling and soul that's oft missing in today's popular music.
Buy it

9. Do You Want To—Franz Ferdinand

After Take Me Out earned its ubiquity it became fashionable to hate the good ol’ lads from Glasgow—I can’t understand why. It’s not like they have huge egos and claim to be saviours of rock. They just want to make music to get girls on the dance floor. In my experience they’ve succeeded at this oh so noble goal with all of their singles. This one has cheeky lyrics about making fun of a scene they helped create and now live in. But the real genius of the song is in the beat. It just screams 'get out there and own the floor like you’re cock-of-the-walk', especially during the guitar break down leading to the last third of the tune. If you still want to hate the band after the video then that’s fine. But do know that the archdukes have millions of women shakin’ it for them and when their tunes come on I’ll be happy to dance it up with your girl while you stand there perfecting your-cooler-than-thou arm cross.
Bonus
The video
Buy it

8.My Doorbell—White Stripes

So Jack White might be weird and kind of creepy as a mustachioed dude who performs for the little kiddies in the video. But who cares when the ab.-fab.-looking Meg White is pounding the drums like this? Forget Kidz Bop, just play this tune and I guarantee all the hipsters will be bounding around the floor doing the most joy core kind of dance and shouting some nonsensical rant about how much they heart Meg—alright, fine, it'll just be me declaring my love for Meg but the rest of the kids will be dancing.
Bonus
Live Glasto 2005 version‘cause the Stripes sound so loud live and Meg’s drumming never sounded as full as on this track.
The music video
Buy it

7.Breakfast Club—Z-Trip

Now if you were anything like me you somehow got up at ungodly hours to watch Saturday morning cartoons. Who wouldn’t with classics like Transformers, Voltron, G.I. Joe, Thundercats and my favourites He-Man and She-ra? That’s right I dug the Princess of Power. Well Z-Trip’s combined all these classics and more to tell a silly little, somewhat perverted story that shames R. Kelly’s vastly over-praised Trapped in the Closet—people have made multipart pop songs before, they just had the sense to separate them and call them rock operas. At first Breaksfast Club might seem like a novelty song or an ad for your favourite Kellogg breakfast, but it’s really an excellent example of Hip-Hop’s ability to construct a compelling narrative out of pop culture references. If there’s one weakness it’s the kitschy drum-machine beat, but it serves its purpose in minimalism and allows the narrative to dominate. But if all that sounds hyperbolic at least listen to Murs’ intro “If you can’t relate to this song you’re taking this shit too seriously. It’s Hip-hop, man. It’s fucking fun.” Indeed.
Buy it

6. Fake Palindromes—Andrew Bird

This is the highlight of the Mysterious Production of Eggs. I enjoy the morbid little story Bird sings, but when I just read the lyrics it kind of creeps me out. For me that’s the power of the tune. The melody and the slow build of the drums, guitars and tambourine disarms; it keeps from overanalyzing the morbid lyrics of S&M snuff zombie love. But what I really dig about the tune is the looping violin used when he isn’t singing, plus the man knows to keep this tight— he quits as soon as the story’s done.
Buy it

5. Lazer Beam—Super Furry Animals

A wacky electro space intro, a robotic finish, howling and a preamble rant—this tune is quirky. But it’s weird in a good way much like the band itself. The lyrics are kind of a throw away, but who really cares ‘cause the band’s having so much fun it’s infectious. ‘Sides the music is what makes this tune. The distorted guitar carries the tune all the way through, but it’s the chaotic chorus where this tune flourishes.
The music video (in Windows Media. I apologise profusely:(
Buy it

4.Since U Been Gone—Kelly Clarkson

Yes it’s an obvious choice but it’s damn good tune. Who cares if Swede Max Martin had a hand in Hit Me Baby One More Time plus a whole bunch of even more loathsome pop bunkum. The Swede made a perfect song here—with a borrowed riff from Ms. O, Mr. Zinner and Mr. Chase. A testament to the song’s perfection was that it didn’t matter whether the Kidz Bop Kids were singing, Ted Leo was using it to practice his falsetto, or the lady herself was belting ‘er out, this ditty always sounded great and never sounded tired. Except for that Jason Nevins remix, which ruined the tune’s taught length and eschew that superb guitar riff. Still despite a strong challenge from Mr. Leo and the video of the year from those Kids no one could usurp Kelly and her golden pipes—shout on girl, shout on!
Bonus
Ted Leo Cover
Kidz Bop Kids cover (music video)—do not miss the Asian Kid with what is possible to most unwittingly hilarious moment recorded this year.
Buy it

3. Entertain—Sleater-Kinney

This tune absolutely rocks in a way that nothing else did this year. The guitars are turned up to 11. Janet Weiss is beating the tar out of her drums. Carrie Brownstein and Corin Tucker throw down dueling guitars and belt out a half-critique half-call to arms so convincing that I’d be willing to follow them on crusade against my brethren—but we know they wouldn’t incite that kind of behaviour. The tune hits perfection when they soften things up just a skosh before belting out the chorus one more time.
Buy it

2. Hide and Seek—Imogen Heap

All hail the return of the vibraphone. Essentially all we’ve got here is Heap singing a capella in a vibraphone. It’s only after the climax that the absolute skeleton of a piano track is heard. Yet the lady creates a richer sound than most people manage with a whole orchestra backing them.
Buy it

1.Fuck Forever—Babyshambles

Nobody in the business can write an anthem that connects with youth like Pete Doherty. The usual suspects claim this is the antithesis of a certain Britpop anthem by some Mancunians. You’ll hear none of that from me ‘cause this tune stands on its own as a nice response to all the chaos and absurdity that was his 2005. From his slurred delivery, biting lyrics and sharp guitar, this is Pete at his best. I find the straightforward and slightly streamlined delivery of this Zane Low version a better match with songs message than his the slightly more subdued guitars and melodramatic delivery of the album cut. But in any form this is the song of 2005.
Buy it

Laudable Also-rans
These tunes just missed out on a top ten but they’re still worthy of some praise and ear time.

Diamonds from Sierra Leon (Capski refix)—Kanye West

This is the definitive version of Diamonds. There’s none of the after-the-fact attempt to make the title actually relevant to the lyrics—it’s just Kayne and his ego at their best. Now, I respect the album remix’s attempt at social conciseness, but the tune’s originally a tribute to Roc-A-Fella and it shows. The other improvements Capski brought are a nice sampled guitar riff and punched up drums to add to a subtle, but effective choir sample. Now it could’ve used some of the sound effect flourishes of Kayne’s versions, but that’s a minor qualm. This is most definitely aptly named as a refix ‘cause after listening to this you’ll wonder why people are groovin' along Gold Digger instead of Diamonds.
Diamonds from Sierra Leon (Capski refix) (Click. It's a Savefile link).

Please Stand Up—British Sea Power

Now if anybody in the English-speaking world can write a perfect anthem it’s the British, and damn is this a good one. The chorus is absolute perfection with the strings layering under the ringing guitar; the steady drum-beat stays appropriately in the background to give Yan’s tale of lovers and longing the headline slot. Now if it has a fault it’s that the song finishes too quickly. I still can’t believe the dolts at MTV banned the video for the line “A little excitement makes us wetter, wetter.”
Bonus
The banned video
Buy it

Dear Sons and Daughter of Hungry Ghosts—Wolf Parade

Many say Isaac Brock’s polish on the album version of this tune ruined it (when compared to earlier versions). Fuck that indie elitism. If you want clean-up some lo-fi playing and make the instruments actually sound lively as well as drop the extraneous intro it’s cool with me Isaac—but that doesn’t mean you’re forgiven for feeding the frat boy bear with Float On. While I enjoy the quirky synth playing and banging drums this song’s charm is its chorus of La-La-Las. Who am I kidding this song’s on here for one reason: “But God doesn’t always have the best Goddamn plans, does he?"
Buy it

I Bet you Look Good on the Dance Floor—Arctic Monkeys

Now lead singer Alex Tuner told the Guardian the tune’s “a bit shit” and the lyrics are “rubbish”. He’s right. But that’s its charm, really. Those of you who regularly frequent the clubs that play this kind of tune can surely relate to the tale of seeing a hottie and your interest in her/him goes as far as how she/he’d look on the dance floor. But the music’s not that bad either. The steady drum and the double time pace of the chorus make this tune perfect for some jerky-type goofy moves to try and impress that hottie—what more can you ask for in a tune?
Buy it

Mary—The Subways

The jangly hook is dead simple and deceptively catchy, especially when that piano kicks in, but what really resonates are the lyrics. After feeling pretty aimless upon finishing school this tune was pretty much the soundtrack to my summer activities. So a song about a character who just can't seem to accomplish anything and the friend who takes him in and just makes him feel better definitely deserve to be on the list.
Stream it hither.
Buy it

Other Notables

I Said Never Again (But Here we Are) & So Good —Rachel Stevens
All About Us—t.A.T.u
Forever Lost—Magic Number
Indie Boys Don’t Deserve It—Queens of Noize
Itch You Can’t Scratch—Junior Senior
Dance with Me—The Juan Maclean
Ooh La La & Lovely 2 C U—Goldfrapp
Heard About Your Band—The Brakes
Hey Scenesters—The Cribs
From the Floorboards Up—Paul Weller

Happy Chrismukkah all!

2005-12-25T20:11:00.000-05:00

As you probably gathered I have a little obsession with the O.C. so for the second year in a row I’ve written a little ditty for Chrismukkah. I don’t really care about the religious aspect of these end-of-the-year festivities ‘cause as far as I can tell what really matters is that you’re sharing happiness in the good company of family and friends. Since I seem to have a knack of spreading happiness via my willingness to make an ass of myself, I figure why not do it with song. Happy Chrismukkah or whatever it is that you celebrate and thanks for stopping by this year.

Follow the link for the tune.

P.S. I should have at least one more post this year—a list of the best albums and songs I came across.

My Boho beef or how I hold Kate Moss responsible for the sad state of fashion for society’s better half

2005-12-15T00:41:00.000-05:00

Okay so I’ve returned from my BelgoBrItalian adventure and I figure I’d try and milk that vacation for some content.

Boho chic needs to go down. This fashion plague is ridiculously prevalent in England, where Kate Moss is a style icon, to the point where I cannot sit idle and let this atrocity continue.

This look features, ill fitted dresses, unnecessary layers of clothing, dangly beaded jewelry, way-too-big sunglasses, and boots. I haven’t a problem with boots ‘cause nothing perfects an outfit like a fierce set of high kicks that accentuate the sensuous long lines of a lady’s legs. I also haven’t much of a quibble with beaded jewelry as long as it’s tasteful but, the size of the jewelry sported in this look is more appropriate for playground Double Dutch than accessorising an outfit.

But my main grievance is with he rest of the look, which cannot hit the clearance rack fast enough.

First, gargantuan sunglasses need to be retired. I cannot fathom why a woman would buy glasses that cover a third of her face. A good pair of glasses should compliment the eyes they cover, not create a new set of monstrously ill portioned ones. If you’re using them as a cover-up for all that late night debauchery, Honey, it ain’t working ‘cause huge glasses only make the randoms think you’ve got something to hide (especially when they’re worn indoors).

Secondly, why a woman would want to wear something referred to as a granny dress is beyond me. Granddaughters of Sophia Loren and Grace Kelly aside, when was the last time you looked at your grandma’s outfit and thought it looked good, let alone good enough to wear yourself? Now I understand that the loose cut of a grandma dress might be really comfortable, but when you're in the prime shape of your life why would you want to hide that with a poorly cut dress when you could accentuate your gorgeous figure with a more fitted* dress or skirt?

But without a doubt the unnecessary layers of Boho is the look’s worst fashion atrocity. Jeans and dresses or skirts should never be worn together. Let me repeat that jeans (or any other pants) and dress or skirts should never worn simultaneously. It’s one or the other, not both. The only reason I could fathom why someone might do this is a climate related one. If it’s too cold to wear a dress or skirt than wear pants I’d rather you wear pants and be warm than shiver in a dress or skirt—even if it is a something as gorgeous as this little number. I promise nobody will think less of you for leaving that seductive pencil or A-line in the closet; the time when it was unlady-like for a woman to wear pants has long since past. Now, if you’re wearing a skirt or dress and pants together strictly ‘cause you think it looks good, I’ve got some florescent polka-dot patterned culottes I’d like to sell you.

So to reiterate no outfit can be considered chic when it looks like you’ve fashioned it by raiding everything in your brother, mother, older sister and grandma’s closets.

*Please note that all fitted dress or skirts worth wearing are comfortable otherwise they are poorly tailored for you and aren’t worth either purchasing or wearing.

Nothing says I love you and please forget that neglect like a fresh post

2005-12-02T11:45:00.000-05:00

It’s time that I update this neglected blog in a woefully inadequate attempt to retain what few readers still stop by this thing.

I loathe the precedent the White Stripes' performance on the Daily Show. Sorry Jon but the news shows you parody do not have musical guests—that’s late-night and early morning talk-show material. You so do not want to be associated with the Lenos and Regis and Kellys of the world, Jon.

Despite the potential mucking-up of one of my favourite television shows, I adored/hearted/loved that performance. Especially, drumming by my beloved Meg. Now I’ve always loved Meg’s drumming ‘cause I imagine that simple hard banging style she’s got would be what I’d sound like if I had even a skosh bit of musical talent. But drumming ability aside Meg’s never really done anything to me—that whole raccoon phase didn’t make it easy. Now I’d be reading that Meg was looking quite good these days and I never really gave it much thought till I had to do the ol’
double take when I saw her photo among the collage of the NME’s Cool List*. And Last’s night’s performance of Meg in action only confirm the need for my extra look. So it looks like my mainstream pop crush with indie-cred and my beloved whispy voiced Norwegian dance-pop princess/DJ now have some competition.

Secondly thanks to the wonders of recording technology I was able to quickly catch up on my favourite televised obsession the O.C. I’ve got to say I missed the finishing of a good few story arcs. But I’m glad I saw it this way otherwise the week-long delays between episodes would’ve been almost unbearable. That being said I have a small confession to make: is it wrong that I’ve developed a crush on Talyor Townshead? I say this ‘cause my love for the show is directly proportional to how health of the relationship is of my beloved Sethummer. Still Talyor’s scheming and manipulative plays for Seth were downright brilliant—how genius was that stealing Capitain Oates move! Too bad it appears she’s given up so early and that the rest of the sub-plots seem all but exhausted except for the seasonal testing of the Marissa and Ryan relationship, which the previews made abundantly clear is the next big sub-plot—le sigh.

P.S. *I don’t care how good the Arctic Monkeys’ dance-floor anthems might be, nobody with the collar of the his polo shirt half-up and half-down can top a cool list. That’s a fashion abomination that’s even worse than full collar popping!

Belgium is my tire swing. Italy's my slide. England's my monkey bars and Scotland's my sand box. 'Cause Europe's my Playground.

2005-10-13T01:02:00.000-04:00

Hey all y'all!
I must apologise profusely for being M.I.A. in blog land. Apparently I didn’t realise just how time consuming it is to plan a transatlantic journey. Nothing eats up time like tiny little errands of credit card pick-ups, currency converting, buying those oh so necessary little odds and ends, etc. Yes I know you’re all feeling really sorry for me.

Anyway, I’m just letting all you randoms (those valued blog readers that I don’t actually know personally) not to expect any posts until late Nov. to early Dec. as I’ll be on that trip and presumably occupying myself with enough shenanigans to leave no room for bloging. That being said I may stop by here to post a little something but I’m not making any promises so if you're curious I suggest you subscribe to the RSS/Atom feed by clicking on the orange feed button on the right of the page. Now if more people actually read this thing and it provided a valuable service I’d invite someone to take over but that’s not the case so I recommend you saunter over to my link side bar for your hawtt bloging fix.

See all y’all at the beach,
MikeD

September Spawned a Monster named "Dean-lor"

2005-09-30T19:50:00.000-04:00

Damn that was a nice episode of the O.C. last night. Ah hell who am I kidding I’m only posting this to boast that I so called the Taylor Townsend and Dean Hess (how creepy does that IMDB photo look?) relationship—the monster that I’ve dubbed “Dean-lor”. My Sethummer will most definately launch a plot to slay the evil "Dean-lor". In fact I was yelling at the TV for Summer to whip out the camera phone and nail those two dirt bags, but I guess we need to extend this plot a little longer to get to some more scandalous action—there best be some more scandal Josh.

As for that two-bit grifter Charlatan Morgan, man alive her scheming ways, (which the lovely Rock Snob predicted way back in the premier), so means that she’s off my Chrismukkah list. If she continues to mess with my K-andy I’m liable to sick the Nana on her. Believe me you do not mess with the Nana.

Lastly, Mirassa’s new school friends need to be Caitlin Coopered. There is absolutely no need to do a knock version of the Fantastic Four (Marissa, Ryan, Seth and Summer). In fact this whole subplot looks to be trying my patience like I only thought Oliver Trask could.

Thank gosh we’re on hitus until the World Series ends. For all you Canadians out there who don’t get the teasers ‘cause CTV hates us, here’s where you can view that action in glorious Quicktime.

P.S. if anyone can tape or burn me the episodes I will be missing while I’m making Europe my playground I will not only love you forever, but do just about anything you ask short of baring your children—unless you've got access to some sort of Junior technology then will discuss the child baring possiblity.

The Two Sides of Monsieur Bourdain

2005-09-29T13:47:00.000-04:00

So I caught the second episode of Kitchen Confidential on Monday and man alive was it bad. It was everything I feared. It really is Sex and the City set in a kitchen, which isn’t surprising given Darren Star’s involvement.

Sure Tony Bourdain’s source material has more than a little debauchery with the storage room sex, gun assembling in the kitchen and coke-and-alcohol fueled benders, but it’s also about a passion for good food. That’s not conveyed in this series. The closest we get to Bourdain’s passion is a rogue sous-chef who trades some of the kitchen’s steaks for maitake mushrooms. But that was merely a name-drop to satisfy the pseudo-foodies. We heard nothing about the rich earthy flavour they can bring to a dish, nothing about the texture they provide, or anything beyond their name. Now if you were going to do that why not just mention an exotic ingredient that requires no explanation like truffles, fois gras or caviar?

Now I’m going to give Kitchen Confidential one more chance as it did do a good job of conveying some of the tempers and camaraderie Bourdain writes about in the book. But if it continues to be Sex and the City set in the kitchen I’ll pass ‘cause I can get that elsewhere without having it diluted by cursory talk of food.

Enough sounding cantankerous ‘cause right after Kitchen Confidential I was able to catch a special hosted by Tony Bourdain called Decoding Ferran Adrià. What an antithesis to Kitchen Confidential!

For those not in the know Adrià is haute cuisine’s Da Vinci, on a constant quest to improve his art of cooking through science. The dude is so serious about this that he closes his restaurant half of the year simply so he and his staff can experiment.

Even though some of his food looks futuristic, he claims the flavours aren’t. What he aims to do is remind people of their first taste of something in a new way. You need new techniques to get new sensations, he explains.

From the special I reckon he makes good on his philosophy. Hence the simple clean flavour like Apple caviar, which is apple essence formed into tiny beads that resemble fish eggs in every way but taste. The special was filled with simple tastes in innovative packages that never failed to blow Bourdain’s mind. Highlights included: cherries covered in Iberico ham fat (which gets its distinct taste from free-range decedents of wild boar that dine only on acorns); raw egg yolks enveloped in caramel; a frozen fois gras powder, which slowly melted in a warm fois gras broth; and a pasta-less pea ravioli filling that looked just like a green egg yolk. You can check out the video clips hither.

Even with all avant-garde food presentations Bourdain and the producers did a good job of showing that Adrià isn’t pretentious like many of his contemporaries. In fact his favourite restaurant is a little under-twenty-seat job that serves immaculately fresh seafood cooked simply with nothing more than a little salt pepper and maybe some olive oil.

Even after watching the sepical I gotta say I don’t understand the controversy that surrounds Adrià. Clearly it’s the close-minded being freaked out by some unconventional means to an end.

Not only am I glad to have seen this thing ‘cause it ensures that I’ll have to make a trip to El Bulli to taste these wonders, but it also reminded me why I love Bourdain. Which begs the question how could the same man who hosted Decoding Ferran Adrià lend his name to Kitchen Confidential?

"Modern woman's modern man, they're showing us how"

2005-09-27T08:58:00.000-04:00

Congrats to the lovely Rock Snob for her recent Blogerati profile at Blog TO. The good lady took time out of much deserved opportunity for complete self-promotion and threw a little plug my way.

Also a big thanks and hugs and kisses go out to my ex-rommmate, inspiration for this blog, and the sister I never had Célina for putting me while I visited her in Ottawa. She was the perfect accommodating host even though she was sick.

Also as soon as I get settled expect a few posts this week, I'm feeling inspired.

Annie Lilia Berge Strand, Jeg vil gifte meg med deg?

2005-09-23T02:28:00.000-04:00

Man alive how I’ve neglected you my dear few blog readers. Since my trip will be taking me off the continent in three weeks time I got an early start on Rocktober by catching Bergen’s musical darlings Röyksopp and Annie.

As all y’all know it’s no secret that I went to the shpw for Norwegian pop princess Annie. You see for this Britpop/Northern Soul/indie rock lovin’ boy Annie’s Anniemal renewed my long lost love of pure unabashed euro dance pop.

So naturally I’m more than a little Smitten with Ms. Annie Lilia Berge Strand. Unfortunately the performance didn’t quite live up to my unrealistic lofty expectations. Yes I’m well aware that electronic music is a studio art that’s best left for that setting and I was well informed of the unflattering accounts of her early performances where she forgot lyrics, acted shy ande hid in the DJ booth.

Her performance Toronto tour stop at Opera House was nothing like that. It was very much like her persona on Anniemal. There were flashes of the confidence inspiring moxy that dismisses cocky men as chewing gum rather than the chocolate they’d like to think they are. For example she pointed seductively during the chorus of Greatest Hit. But that was tamed with the demure behavior of a girl who once cried under the pin-up-on-her-wall—she disappeared for a whole minute-and-half during a song and left before the “band finished playing heartbeat. Now on to what was well…less than stellar.

As anyone who listened to Anniemal will tell you much of her appeal lies in her wispy vocals. That’s a key part of what makes Annie different from all the other dance divas with slick production and or cute lyrics. So I was greatly disappointed that her vocals were being buried in the mix to the point that if you didn’t know the lyrics already you certainly weren’t going to learn them that night. Granted as the she ran through her set the mix seemed to improve slightly but that may just have been my ears adjusting.

My other major disappointment was that Annie only played six tunes—hardly enough time for me to get up the courage to purpose to her in Norwegian. Yes, the set included Chewing Gum, Greatest Hit and closed with Heartbeat, but it unfortunately the woefully neglected album gem Me Plus One was shunned. Still my girl did treat us all by playing the highlight of the show, the new track The Wedding—unfortunately it elicited more giggles than cheers.

That leads me to my biggest surprise of the evening. The vast majority of the people were there to see Röyksopp. I know Annie was support, but I seriously must live in the blog bubble ‘cause I figured that the place would be packed with indie hipster types fawning over Annie. Man was I mistaken.

A concertgoer affectionately named hipster dufus just went nuts in the Electric Circus meets rhythmically challenged raver in front of for the entirety of the duo’s set—yes I did do the immature mimic thing and mock him much to the amusement of the rest of the crowd. (Please note that I’d rather have people dance at a concert than stand in the cooler-than-thou arms cross, but when the place is sp packed that you’re constantly stepping on feet, elbowing ribs and hitting faces with your failing arms, you have tone it down a bit.) The rest of the crowd also shimmed along as Röyksopp played the usually suspects like Eple, Poor Leno and Only This Moment peppering-them-up with enough flourishes to differentiate things from the studio versions. They wisely avoided too much of their more downbeat sound, which likely would have lead to the dreaded cooler-than-thou arm cross. They faired better than Annie with a lack of vocals on most tracks (they brought a lady, who wasn’t Annie! and was never introduced, to provide vocals when the tracks called for them) and a better set-up.

That begs the question why did Annie’s set -consist solely of a dude behind a sound machine twiddling knobs/playing recorded backing tracks and a guitarist? I can only imagine if she had a stellar band like James Murphy did for the LCD Soundsystem show or even Diplo DJing like M.I.A. had when they played the Opera House—she could’ve been absolutely ace. That being said I can’t fault the her backing “band” ‘cause they did change the arrangements adding sound effects, distortions, different drum machine patterns and even guitar and sound machine jamming to extend Heartbeat and bring some value to the live performance.

Annie and Royksopp

2005-09-21T08:29:00.000-04:00

Here's the Cole's Notes:

Annie: not too shabby.

Röyksopp: better.

Overall: pretty good.

A more thorough account will follow within 24 when I've got some time.

Welcome (back) to the O.C. Bitch! This is how it's done in Orange County.

2005-09-15T00:28:00.000-04:00

Wow. That was one intense episode of the O.C. last Thursday. Yes I know it’s old news but I only saw it on Monday ‘cause I was out of town on a road trip being a 24-hour-party-person.

I thought it was a perfect amalgam of the show’s strengths: season one’s funny quips and season two’s drama. There were a few funny wisecracks about Teen Wolf and baseball, last season’s important cliffhanger was resolved and the powers-that-be also started the preliminary work some new story lines.

But the best part was the return of diabolical Julie Cooper. I missed her deliciously evil scheming last season when Josh Schwartz and co. decided to show us that her ruthlessness was merely a front to deal with how scared she is of losing everything and that she could in fact be human and vulnerable. But now the Julie we love to hate is back and better than ever.

Speaking of evil, does anybody else get the vibe that Charlotte Morgan will be putting Kirsten in a major plight. Sure she seems nice enough at first, but that look she gave to my ‘Kandy’ (Kirsten and Sandy’s realtionship) is T-R-O-U-B-S. Not to mention the creepy stalker-like behaviour seems very Oliver-like— for the love of all things right in the universe Josh please let me be wrong about that.

Speaking of season two, I reacquainted myself with it on DVD in anticipation of season three and I've got to say it wasn’t as bad as I had initially thought. Season one is still better in my mind since what I enjoy most about the show is the witty repartee and interaction between the Cohens and Ryan, 'Sethummer' (Seth and Summer’s relationship) and my beloved Kandy. But season two is strong in the drama department. I also really liked Lindsay Lohan—she was so much better than Jenna Jameson. Sure she was only there to stretch out a couple of story lines (for Caleb and Kirsten and Ryan and Marissa) and her disappearance was awfully abrupt, but man alive was she a Sweetie McSweeterson. Just look at the screen caps and tell me you don’t love her?

If that face isn’t enough to get you off to the Vegas for a shotgun wedding (complete with bowling in the penthouse of the Hard Rock) you should be aware that this girl made a Yamaclaus for Chrismukkah! And the way she gets all mousy and high pitched when she crying is just so darn adorable that I’d immediately have to make her feel better. If my heart didn’t already belong to Summer you’d bet I’d be on the first flight to Chicago. Then again 'Sethummer' is pretty much destined to be together… so…Lindsay, call me and Josh at least get her back for a guest appearance we miss her.

Speaking of Lindsay Lohan why does everyone have to give my girl such a hard time. Yes she a notorious wild child who’s better known for her ability to paint the town red than her ability to act and then there’s also the whole withering down to nothing thing and braking her promise about never dying the trademark red locks thing, but damn it my girl’s just a young rich starlet trying to make the world a better place. Not only did she give a Hurricane Katrina victim a place to stay but she wants to open a chain of orphanages. That’s right she not satisfied with merely adopting a couple of kids, no she wants to help all orphans, everywhere. Top that Angelina! And she even tried to be she tried to be the bigger person by attempting to end her on going feud with Hilary Duff.

So it’d be much appreciated if you could lay off bashing my LiLo, but if you feel the urge to send something her way a sandwich would be much appreciated by me and the lady—we miss her curves.

Whoa! This post has totally gone off track. The my point was that you must watch tonight’s O.C. episode “The Shape of Things to Come.”

Edit: Damn that was intense. I knew Charlotte was big time trouble. I also thought Julie was evil but how about this new Dean? He's uber-evil. Lastly, I never thought I’d say this but a big “cheers” goes out to Ryan and Marissa—the O.C.’s Bonnie and Clyde.

Just calm your ears baby, music will not last

2005-09-13T22:36:00.000-04:00

Generally I leave the record reviews to the professsionals and the should-be-professionals, but despite near universal praise Jamie Lidell’s Multiply hasn’t gotten the respect it deserves.

I cannot stand by and see that happen because Multiply is what a modern Rhythm & Blues record should sound like.

Today's R&B is often listed alongside hip-hop as the catch-all for all the slightly more soulful, funky and slower music that isn’t pop, yet isn’t rap either. It's sound is quite far away from what it was originally. Granted in 1949 the term was adopted as the more open-minded (read less racist) all encompassing term for popular music made by African Americans. Three years later it spawned the euphemism Rock ’n’ Roll, which was used to make it more acceptable to play/market Rhythm and Blues to Caucasian teenagers. Now I know music styles evolve over time, but today’s R&B sound so far removed from what was originally dubbed Rhythm and Blues that I don’t feel comfortable comparing them.

Now Lidell’s record, which you can stream here, (in 30 second chunks) has all the elements that made those old Rhythm and Blues records roisterous stormers. There’s the soulful delivery with a great range, lyrics hinting at sex, lovin’, relationships and all difficulties that come of them, finger snaps, strong drum beats, layered harmony style vocals and all that jazz.

But Lidell isn’t merely a revivalist. He’s incorporating electronic production elements from his days in the dance-pop duo Super_Collider. There’s samples, vocal distortions and keyboard elements that are incorporated both subtly and more bluntly—always to great effect. Although all the tracks are ace, the stand outs include: the harmony vocals of A Little Bit More (which is slightly marred with a heavy hand on the bass controls of the mixer), the funky clap-a-fectious What’s the Use?, the finger poppin’ jazz tinged Music Will Not Last, the soulful acrobatics of What is it this Time? and the feel good smooth flow of the title track. That being said Lidell isn’t about to replace Ike & Tina, The Contours, Irma Thomas and The Miracles on my Rytham and Blues comps, but damn it he makes an outstanding complement to those classics and nice foil to the ol’ ‘they just don’t make ‘em that anymore.’

P.S. DJs you should try mixing this in your set lists if you do one of those 1960s Rhythm and Blues/R&B Soul or Mod revival nights—it should blend in rather nicely amongst all the classic dance floor stormers. Even if you don't do those kind of nights incorporate it in there anyway; a set list could always use a few more soulful stormers.

The day all fashionistas dread

2005-09-07T17:16:00.000-04:00

Yesterday it just hit me. Labour Day has now passed and that means I’m going to have to put away the white or at the very least the white shoes. That means I’m left with two pairs of trainers and pretty much no dress shoes. This makes me quite sad ‘cause as far as I'm concerned a judicious touch of crisp white is the perfect way to set off an outfit. Anyway I think I need to do me some shoe shopping.

Secondly, now that the iPod mini’s been replaced by the new iPod nano it looks like I better get shopping if I want to get that Pink mini I’ve been dying for ever since they were released. As for the nano, although I love the small form factor the proportions look a little off compared to the usually perfect Apple's aesthetic. But then again I didn't like the G5's cheese grater like appearence until I saw one in person.

And delight is dining at my table. So I say, "Take a ship. I'd christen her Victory she'd make it."

2005-09-06T20:41:00.000-04:00

I prefer to use this place to share my thoughts on pop culture and save my thoughts on what I’ve done for a more personal form communication with the person(s) I’ve done them with.

But enough of that preamble ‘cause I’m making an exception for this weekend’s events. I spent a large part of it over at one of my dearest friends for what we dubbed "Pinot Fest". And, no we’ve been diggin’ on Pinot long before a certain over-hyped movie popularized it. We had a nice bottle of Evesham Wood 2001 Pinot “cellaring” (by cellaring I mean sitting in my friend’s closet).

We enjoyed the bottle so much a couple of years ago I grabbed another and stored it at his place for future consumption together. We also had a bottle of the 2002 vintage of the same wine ‘cause while on one of my many excursions to Ottawa’s flagship LCBO at Rideau and King Edward, I happened upon the wine, but couldn’t contact my friend to check the vintage. Since we’d sooner die than be short on wine we also grabbed a couple of half bottles of the 2003 La Crema Pinot that’s part of the latest Vintages release. If that wasn’t enough my friend also pulled out an amazing 1998 Mondavi Pinot—sorry the specific details regarding which of the company’s many vineyards it came from escape me.

As per the wines themselves, they proved the old adage that things get better with age—the older the wine was the better it tasted. I’d give you more details but I haven’t gotten to the nerdy stage of wine appreciation where I take tasting notes. ‘Sides with all that wine being consumed you probably wouldn’t take them seriously anyway.

The point was…good drink was had amongst even better company, making for a heck of great time. Since I must have amassed some serious karam points for some unbeknownst reason (maybe I’m some sort of sleepwalking healer or something) I even got a belated graduation gift from my friend. The friend (who’s respectable business orientated blog I won’t defile with a link) bought me one of these beauties.

That’s right folks a Global chef’s knife. Best. Gift. Ever.

Edit: I completely forgot the whole point of the post. Under the guidance of my friend I managed to make mayonnaise successfully without the aid of electricity. Yes, the neighbours were indeed complaining ‘cause my name was being screamed that loudly.

Mr. Turkey Twizzler you can shove it up your Jacksey

2005-09-02T21:24:00.000-04:00

I know all y’all will be heading out of town or hitting the town on the last long weekend of summer ‘cause you’re 24-hour-party-people just like me. But if you’re a little knackered from painting the town red for three straight days, may I suggest catching the Jamie’s School Dinners, marathon on Food Network Canada from 7 p.m.-11 p.m. EST (it’s repeated again starting at 11 p.m.).

This show is powerful stuff. The four hour series produced by U.K.’s Channel 4follows renowned chef Jamie Oliver on his crusade to improve school dinners.

You see as part of the welfare state following WWII, the British government planned to legislate that local school boards would provide meals for all children. Although it was a nice idea, the scope was reduced to provide free meals to those who could not afford to pay. But as this excellent editorial explains cutbacks and focus on food cost over nutrition left the program in an appalling state.

Knowing this Oliver gets to work on a comprehensive plan which, includes training the existing kitchen staff to cook healthier meals, teaching the children about nutrition as well as getting them involved and excited about cooking.

But it isn’t without challenges he hasto train kitchen staff how to cook from scratch again, which is a tall order considering they are paid poorly and used to frying frozen items or throwing prepared processed rubbish in an oven—notice how I didn’t refer to that stuff as food. He also gets a challenge from the kids who’d rather eat this endtrail-like-processed-junk curiously called turkey twizzlers than a nutritious homemade Thai curry. He also gets pressure from school officials to stay in the laughable 37p budget. If that wasn’t enough he rightfully hears it from wife Jools ‘cause this all his other gigs mean he isn’t home to help raise the adorable but unfortunately named Daisy Boo and Poppy Honey.

The end result is worth it ‘cause Jamie’s School Dinner’s and subsequent petition signed by 250,000 Brits shamed the government into pretty much adopting Oliver’s plan. Sure it’s taking credit and co-opting his work but Oliver doesn’t mind ‘cause it’s for the benefit of the kiddies. Besides he doesn’t plan to be a political lackey he says he’ll hold them to their promises.

Lord knows the politicians will need the pressure ‘cause it seems the food service companies are shamefully holding the schools to their contacts and doing whatever they can to block Jamie’s program .

In honour of the event I’m off to cook me up something tasty, so have a good weekend kiddies and whatever you do don’t eat the turkey twizzlers.

Trekkies got nothing on Lost fans

2005-09-01T08:32:00.000-04:00

Back in Ottawa it used to be a house tradition for my surrogate sister Célina, Punk is Dead and myself to watch Lost. Sure it was a little weird and JJ Abrams continuing cliffhangers for no apparent reason get a little tiresome, but I had to see what notorious womanising-commitment-phobe Charlie Salinger's been doing. I’m surprised the dude made it through med school having to deal with the problems of Julia, Claudia, Bailey and Owen—not to mention J.D. Where the heck was that recluse when Bailey needed the intervention?

Now although I enjoy Lost, a couple of fans love it on a whole other level.

(Here's a screen capture 'cause Contact Music's being difficult by disabling direct linking).

It was nice to let these two fans with an unhealthy obsession hang around the set, but giving them autographs and letting the story leak to the press is pretty much feeding the bears. My guess is that philanderer Charlie Salinger was behind the move. Really who can blame him? Nothing beats naked mermaids…well maybe unicorns and J.D.

No Easy Love

2005-08-31T08:23:00.000-04:00

Are anniversaries really all that important? I only ask ‘cause somebody I know made alternate plans to see her old friends from high school on her 30th anniversary. In her defense she’d be trying to arrange a time for them to catch up for quite some time—it’s still a pretty flimsy excuse. But I still have a feeling if the he in this relationship had done so, well…I don’t even want to imagine what would happen but let’s just said it’s a good thing they have a comfy couch.

Now it wasn’t a big deal ‘cause they really do love each other and the he plans to take the she on a romantic night out in this weekend when it’s more convenient. But the poor he had to get up at 4:30 am yesterday to cover for a co-worker on vacation. To make a long day even longer he had to drive across pick-up the she up from her little night out.

Needless to say I’m most definitely not taking romantic advice from the she for quite sometime. Now I'm off to go watch some Audrey Hepburn movies to replace the memory of this unromantic incident.

Kitchen shenanigans

2005-08-29T23:22:00.000-04:00

In my circle of friends and acquaintances I have this reputation of being a fairly decent cook. I don’t consider myself extra ordinarily skilled in the culinary arts. But given the obscene amount Food Network Canada I watch and the fact that I spend more time reading about food than the average person probably spends in a kitchen, I’ve got a pretty solid gastronomic knowledge base.

In fact some of that knowledge came in handy after I failed badly attempting thesepistachio macaroons. You see, this recipe, like any baking recipe worth doing had measurements by weight rather than volume. Variables like humidity, ingredient brands, cooking utensils, etc. can all vary greatly and since baking is more like chemistry than any other form of cooking, consistency is not only desired it’s needed. The easiest way to get that consistency is by weighing ingredients. So despite knowing this I decided to make the recipe sans a scale.

Needless to say the macaroons were not what was pictured in the book or the previous link. Luckily it’s a recipe for sandwich cookies and I had already finished the buttercream by the time the “cookies” were removed from the oven. Since I don’t accept culinary failures I drew upon that knowledge base to turn said buttercream into a pistachio cookie that resembled peanut butter cookies texturally and in appearance.

Given baking’s finicky nature the fact that these cookies were edible was astonishing. If that wasn’t enough they were preferred by the family to the shortbread-like almond butter cookies my Mom and I made earlier.

Now I should’ve stopped while I was ahead in kitchen this weekend. But me with my inflated ego decided that since we were making frites on Sunday, I should make mayonnaise with the yolks left over from baking. Bad idea.

My surrogate sister knows I tried this few times in Ottawa and failed miserable every time. But I figured with a KitchenAid stand mixer available, this time would be different. Apparently my kitchen assumptions just make an ass out of me. Even with the KitchenAid I was soundly defeated by my culinary nemesis. My guess is I didn’t pour the initial bit of oil in slowly enough. Although I still swear it was looking pretty thick and a dripped it in quite slowly.

So since I refuse to be defeated in my kitchen I plan to buy a dozen eggs and jug of oil and devote an afternoon to making this French artery-clogging-emulsion scream my name. But just in case I’m unsuccessful, I plan to befriend a frites truck proprietor while I’m in Belgium (that‘s how the people who invented fries eat them) so that Ms. Mayonnaise knows who wears the checked chef pants in this relationship.

Fret not lovers 'cause Here Come the Tears

2005-08-26T18:06:00.000-04:00

This was going to be a rant about Amazon and how I had been waiting on an order since the beginning of the month only find out it was going to be delayed for another four to six weeks. Apparently Melody A.M. is hard to come by in these parts.

Suffice to say I dropped the Norwegians' CD from the list ‘cause I’m impatient and I’m convinced they could personally deliver it my house faster given that their tour stop falls just short of the earlier part of Amazon’s estimated time of delivery.

Enough of that tangent ‘cause once I cracked open the rest of my order the above annoyance became quite trivial. The Subway’s debut Young for Eternity rocks as hard as expected and it even has some surprisingly good softer moments too. Unfortunately thanks to a lack of any description on Amazon’s part beyond [Limited Edition] I ended up with the Japanese import, which has two bonus tracks—w00t! Unfortunately, it’s lacking 1 AM, which is tacked on the end of Somewhere on the British release. It looks like I’ll doing a little remixing and burning to remedy that gross oversight 'cause 1 AM falls just short of perfection that is Mary in the Subway's catalog.

But what’s really important here is that the Tears debut, Here Come the Tears, is ace. The disc by the creative partnership of Brett Anderson and Bernard Butler, who are responsible for Suede’s 1993 Mercury prize winning euphonious debut, is a disc for lovers and those who want to be in love. Normally intricate guitar work and lyrics about being in love lead to shlock, but to these ears the British unequalled in ability to write a compelling love song—Bernard and Anderson are among Britain's best. So I say bah to the French reputation, make my next lover a Brit. But enough of that digression.

Besides the lead track Refugees, the song Imperfection immediately stood out. It's a little love ditty about coming to realisation that you now adore that speical someone’s initial flaws. I’ve always thought that’s a true sign that you’re really in love. The second single Lovers is also great.

I’d go into a proper review, but baring a flood of stellar releases before year-end I’ll save my unqualified attempt for my year’s best of list. ‘Sides most of all y’all who read this thing (Rock Snob and Punk is Dead ) have already heard the disc or will surely hear the disc as I throw a sample of what I’ve been listening your way (in an attempt to mold you to my tastes). Actually the previous statement’s not true; a few randoms read the blog, so I guess this posts for all y’all. If you haven't already attain a copy of Here Come the Tears. Have a good weekend kiddies don't forget to take to the streets you Bonnie and Clyde types.

Why Anthony, why?

2005-08-24T17:42:00.000-04:00

I have nothing but love for anything involving Anthony Bourdain. This man has a serious passion for good food and drink and he’s able to communicate that in a straight-forward manner that’s not only pretension free, but also full of sharp wry wit.

Although I came to know him through the excellent television series A Cook’s Tour, I really began to appreciate the man after reading Kitchen Confidential— his breakthrough semi-autobiographical take on what it’s like to work in the restaurant business. The literary press tends to focus on the book’s seedier moments where Bourdain’s behaviour and surroundings tend to be more sex, drugs and rock and roll than haute cuisine, amuse bouches and mise-en-place. Although I found the sordid tales and the infamous “don’t eat fish on Mondays” tip amusing, the reason I really enjoy Bourdain’s book is his entertaining and non-precious writing style that allows him to share his love for great food and drink as well as the business with the reader. Heck my favourite part is probably the childhood tale of him spending a couple of hours in the back of the car while his parents dined at a Michelin starred restaurant in France. After that incident, he realised that his self-imposed diet of burgers and fries meant he was not only missing a great pleasure in life but an integral part of it.

That’s why it pains me to see this. Darren Starr of Sex and the City fame has made the book into what appears to be some sort of comedic monstrosity for Fox. I can only hope this preview is nothing like the series—at least this clip is marginally better, but only marginally. If there is justice and taste in the world of television the clichéd and pedestrian writing that mars the otherwise enjoyable Sex and the City will be absent from Kitchen Confidential. But I ain't counting on it.

That being said I'll check out the pilot if only to see what Rachel’s been up since trying to pull an Angelina Jolie on Sandy and Kirsten Cohen’s marriage (I love my K-andy folks). But if it’s anything like the preview it’ll be a quick print to the ol' shelf to grab Bourdain’s book in an attempt to erase any memory of a television show.

My long-lost South-East Asian twin?

2005-08-18T16:55:00.000-04:00

If I were a year younger and born to South-East Asian parents instead of Italian ones, I’m convinced I would be Aziz Ansari. Yes it may sound far-fetched but all you need to do is check out this brilliant comedy bit he did about trying to impress M.I.A. after he saw her in concert. He pretty much got my m.o. down in a pithy eight-and-a-half minutes. There’s the trying to impress a hipster-approved musician in a clever informed way, having it go unsuccessfully and the imagined scenarios to rectify his unsucessful wooing attempt. If that wasn’t enough there’s Gawker blog reference, geek talk about Mac OS X, a clever dig corporate sponsorship and lots of self-depreciating humour with a hint of self-promotion.

I’m off to go learn some Norwegian in hopes of successfully impressing my own hipster-approved pop princess on Sept. 20 at the Opera House.

la partita brutta

2005-08-11T21:58:00.000-04:00

So as most of all y’all know, I’m currently hitting the snooze button on life and milking the carefree life post-graduation by planning a jaunt off to Europe. It’ll be one last hurrah before I finally get serious and settle into some responsible adult-like behaviour such as getting a job, a place, bills, etc. I’m planning a real in-depth visit of Belgium, the U.K. and Italy (Denmark and the Netherlands could be added on a whim). I was actually considering skipping Italy altogether, but I believe my grandparents would disown me. I don’t even speak Italian and considering both sets of grandparents and my father were born in the old country, I’m already doing pretty poorly on the heritage front.

It’s not that I don’t care about my heritage. There are aspects of the Italian culture that I wish North America would adopt, like the Slow Food Movement and the design, fashion, cuisine and love for life or dolce vita that Italy is famous for (but apparently the sweet life's not going too well these days.)

Still as much as I love those aspects of the culture, there are certain things about Italy that I consider absolutely shameful. There’s the whole Berlusconi thing, the or Fiat thing as well as the Calisto Tanzi and still on-going Parmalat thing.

Given its political and economic woes it’s no wonder the country turns to football for salvation. It’s a bit of an unhealthy obsession ‘cause it distracts from what’s really important. Now I used to figure it wasn't really all that different from Canadians’ fervour for hockey (which the lockout showed we can actually live without). But after reading this, I’m beginning to think Italians’ consuming passion for football is down right deplorable. Apparently, that riot's hardly an isolated incident either—not that that would make it acceptable. Now I know it’s minority of so-called football ‘fans’ that commit these repugnant acts, but this behaviour shouldn’t ever happen. Plus the fact that officials ignore it makes it all the more sickening.

So although I’m confident I’ll be romanced by la dolce vita, here's hoping that I won’t be staying long enough to see Italy’s other side.

I had a locket, a little silver charm, Given to me so to keep me out of harm. But who needs it now that I’ve found Pancake Mountain!

2005-08-09T02:49:00.000-04:00

So I recently fell in love with Blueberry Boat, again. After proclaiming it the best album of last year, I realised I hadn’t listened to the thing since there was still snow on the ground!

Aside from the absolutely dizzying amount of hook changes in the epic tunes, one of the things that first struck me about the album was the child-like nature of the story telling. It’s crammed with clever puns, rhyming lyrics, pop culture references and a rotating cast of caricatures as characters. It’s really as if the siblings Friedberger were privy to my wackiest dreams and turned them into an album. C’mon a rock opera about a sister (I’ve always wanted one) as a worldly-pirate-fighter who was kept small ‘cause someone locked-her-up and fed her anti-growing pills. If this kind of children’s music for adults doesn’t scream MikeD what does?

So it’s only appropriate that I’ve come across this. That’s right the Furnaces played what must be the all-time coolest kid’s show ever. It’s called with Pancake Mountain and it’s a cable-access show from Washington, D.C. that aims to entertain kids by not dumbing music down for them or selling them a whole bunch of crap through product placements and ads. Now I thought the music-themed cartoons and educational shows were great when I was a growing up in the mid-to-late 1980s. But singing, dancing and jamming with the Arcade fire? How do you top that? You dance-it-up with Ted Leo and get him to sing you the Wheels on the Bus, that’s how. Or perhaps you’d rather hear about whether the Scissor Sisters like Devo or Thomas Dolby better, while listening to a puppet take a swipe at Ashlee Simpson?

Still as good as all the above is, it just cannot compare to seeing the Furnaces on the show. What could be more appropriate than having the Fiery Furnaces perform their brand of children’s music (for adults) to the kiddies? Well…maybe having the the Flaming Lips come on, complete with dolphin costumes, would be just as fitting. But, still, not only do the kiddies look like their enjoying the Furnaces original tune, but so does the band. Actually I bet the adults watching at home got a kick out of it too. Really, what 'Pod-toting-indie-music-lovin’-parent wouldn’t love to see Eleanor Friedberger pretend to be a rabbit and a moose, while having their young child entertained? Plus as George S. points out how do you not love a show that asks George Clinton where he parks his mothership?

Edit I cannot believe I missed this when I posted, but you can see Elanor kiss Rufus Leaking the sheep puppet. I love how she's all concerned that Alex might get jealous. Then, Matt, the good brother and infulence that he is, encourages her 'cause he won't see the show.

Nobody likes Mondays or potentially hypocritical behaviour

2005-08-08T03:25:00.000-04:00

All I have to say about this, is that you damn well best be giving half of your newly increased booking fees to Make Poverty History. After the big rant about greedy people trying to profit from the charity by auctioning free tickets and the subsequent kafuffle about it being wrong for artists to be cashing in on their increased profile after Live 8, it just be wouldn’t be right for you to be profiting, would it Sir Bob?

Adam Brody's no Dumbo

2005-08-04T04:18:00.000-04:00

I should really hate Adam Brody.

The dude gets paid to seemingly play himself on TV and to rub it in he gets praise for it too. His character is self-absorbed to a fault and yet the ladies still swoon over him. Despite knowing better Brody indulges in the Hollywood disease of having his own to band. Why is it that actors want to be rock stars and rock stars want to be actors? If you’re fortunate enough to be one why push your luck by insisting on being both? I mean really, have these people not read the Old Testament? That God can be pretty vindictive—Big G did lighten up in the New Testament so who knows.

But despite all of the above I still love Adam Brody. Although the second season of the O.C. saw him take Seth Cohen’s mopey self-absorbed jerkiness to previously unfathomable levels, he’s still a very funny guy. Plus it’s hard to fault a guy who helped make indie-nerdiness hot. Lastly, although I curse his very existence for dating this living goddess on TV and in real life, I cannot help but admire the dude for successfully dating way out of his league—as far as I’m concerned everyone’s out of Rachel’s league.

But still all that really doesn’t matter thanks to this. That’s right, dude’s not being frivolous with his money by purchasing fast cars, designer threads, fine wine and haute cuisine. Why? ‘Cause he’s saving his money to buy an elephant. That’s just the kind of crazy child-like purchase I would make if I happened upon actor-on-hit-show money. Except I’d hire the lead engineer who designed Sony’s Aibo to make me a giant robot elephant and I’d call it Babarbot. Hold on…wait…scratch that. I’d rather spend my crazy money paying a team of brilliant scientists to do their best Jurassic Park impression and clone me a fleet of Woolly Mammoths.

Since I’m all benevolent like, I’d offer their services as some sort of environmentally friendly Flintstonesque mass-transit solution. Hold on again, I guess that’d be kind of cruel to force the Mammoths into a life of labour. Who wants a lifetime of work after millions of years of peaceful extinction? Okay, I’ve got it now. I’ll combine the two dreams and have robot Mammoths provide the mass-transit, while I get to keep the real Woolly Mammoth so my friends and I can ride it in my backyard. But it just won’t be a glorified petting-zoo pony; I’ll also put it to good use by riding it to get groceries and running small errands around town during snow storms.

Who am I kidding? You and I both know I’m just gonna use the cash to try and woo Rachel Bilson.

C’mon on indie rock and Britpop DJs wake up the Anniemal inside of you!

2005-07-28T00:05:00.000-04:00

There are few things I love more than a night on the town with intention of parktaking in some sweaty dance floor antics. But to achieve that sheen of sweat, I gotta be diggin’ on the tunes. So naturally you’ll find me at one of Toronto’s many indie rock and Britpop nights where I’ll be able to dance to favourites from my library, forgotten gems and hopefully a new dance floor stormer that’s snuck past me.

It should come as no surprise that last Friday I was at Tawdry—the once a month Britpop and (to a lesser extent) indie rock night usual held at Alto Basso. The crowd there is generally dressed sharply and there for the music, it isn’t too crowded, it’s in a nice venue and the DJs play a good set that’s less predictable than Saturday night’s usual suspects (which are also excellent but can get a little indistinguishable upon repeat visits).

My one qualm with an otherwise ace night out at Tawdry was when I went to request Annie. Now I had high hopes that the folks behind Tawdry would have Anniemal on hand, unlike my beloved Club Z in Ottawa where my requests for Annie, have been greeted with “Annie? Ani Difranco?” Unfortunately the DJ had no Annie and I wasn’t entirely sure he was familiar with who I was talking about (it was loud). In trying to explain who Annie is, I requested the popular and obvious reference that is Kylie (maybe that request went a bit outside of the night’s format, but she was suppose to close this year’s Glasto). That’s when it all went downhill. The DJ laughed at my request in disbelief and gave me a look like I had requested he play something appropriate to do the freakin’ Foxtrot.

Yes, I know it was a Britpop and indie rock night, but I can’t understand why the DJs, who work those nights, seem to be so slow to embrace Annie. Now I could understand you not wanting to play anything but rock, lest you risk losing you cred and the interest of the audience. But DJs, your playlists have non-indie rock and Britpop stuff—that’s a good thing ‘cause flexibility and unpredictability endears you to the crowd. For example at Tawdry I've heard LCD Soundsystem, the Rapture, Le Tigre and New Order. The first two heavily embrace elements of house music to the point that if you could drop them on some rave kids without complaint. Although New Order does fit nicely in the British requirement of the night, Blue Monday’s synthpop electronica is far away from the guitar driven sound of indie rock and Britpop. Now at Club Z, where the theme of the night is a little more lax, I’ve heard all the above and even some non-Deceptacon Le Tigre, Scissor Sisters and Junior Senior. Le Tigre are self described “Feminist Punk Electronic” and Junior Senior is pure unabashed euro dance pop—much like Annie.

So I cannot understand how’d you’d be willing to play any of the above tunes but, you’d refuse to play Annie out of prinicpal.

So then is it lack of exposure that's keeping Annie off the playlists? Not bloody likely. Pitchfork’s been drooling over Annie since late last year and with a 2005 North American release of Anniemal so have the rest of the critics. Even if you make it a point to ignore Pitchfork's snarktastic hype-machine, the very musicians you are playing have embraced Annie. Scissor Sisters walked on stage to an Annie track on every stop of their last tour. The Rapture are doing a remix of Me Plus One and DFA’s Juan Maclean wants a piece of the Annie remix action. Even James Murphy a.k.a. LCD Soundsystem has professed his fondness for Norway’s favourite dance princess. (Yes I realise with the exception of Scissor Sisters all of the above are associated with DFA Records, but when it comes to fusing rock and dance you’d be hard pressed to find a source that's more on it's game.

If that wasn’t enough Annie’s not your typical Euro dance diva. She’s a DJ herself, so the girl’s got a good idea of what gets a crowd going. Plus, for you rock and Britpop DJ’s the girl counts the Clash, the Ramones and Elastica as favourites in her library.

But most importantly you should be playing Annie ‘cause your audience has embraced her. Annie’s core fan base is made of those music passionate folks who run Mp3 blogs and read them. It’s very likely that the crowd filling your dance floor is made of those very same blog writers and blog readers. But even those who don’t do the blog thing will surely dig Annie as a nice change ‘cause they, like you, appreciate breadth in a playlist. Plus the indie rock and Britpop scene is chock full of some the most snarkastic and ironic people. So if any scene would appreciate a deviance for sake of irony, it’s your audience—there’s a reason why Misshapes at NYC’s Luke and Leroy is renowned.

So all you indie and Britpop DJs and those influential club goers with DJs in your social circle, I’m pleading and begging that you give Annie’s Anniemal a listen. If you hate it, fine. I can live with you not wanting to play something you hate. But but if you like it, I’m begging you to throw it on the playlist. In fact I’m so desperate to hear some Annie not only will I heart you forever if you throw on a little Chewing Gum, but also consider your libation needs for the evening taken care of—just let me know when and where you’ll be spinning.

P.S. The American version of Apple’s wonderful iTMS has my favourite Anniemal cut and guaranteed dance floor stormer Me Plus One as this week’s Free Download. If you need more of a taste you can stream all of Anniemal here.

Willie Shakes got it wrong. It’s all in a name!

2005-07-22T07:45:00.000-04:00

I herby nominate this site for the Diary of a Finger Popper Award of the Most Unfortunately Named Web Site.

Although the site makes it quite clear it’s Who Represents, when you throw it into the browser URL bar or get it in an email you can’t help but think it could be the online saviour for what to get your oft-neglected prostitute this Chrismukkah.

Naturally that begs the question, who’s representing Who Represents ‘cause if that website name is any indication it sure as heck could use someone better.

P.S. Expect a concert review sometime over the weekend or on Monday 'cUse Wednesday's stellar show deserves one.

Here’s the thing…I’ve got a thing for Miss Independent

2005-07-20T01:19:00.000-04:00

Okay, so clearly I didn’t make good on my promise of regular posts. But it wasn’t from a lack of trying. I’ve got a bunch of stuff half done that I just can seem to finish writing mainly ‘cause I’m not entirely my perpetually-happy-care-free-self. But hey, you could care less about excuses, so on with it…

The following may surprise some of you ‘cause it’s not exactly something I’ve been forthcoming about. But after much internal dialogue I’m finally comfortable letting all y’all know the follow (which I will make no apologies for):

I love Kelly Clarkson.

I don’t give a damn how unfashionable it is to like somebody who’s won American Idol. I have a genuine appreciation for her pop singles. I love the ‘I’m over you, but not really’ relationship anthem that is Since U Been Gone (and I thank Ted Leo for making that acceptable). But I also adore the Christina Aguillera cast-off Miss Independent for it’s funky dance beat under a shouty delivery of lyrics about normally guarded female who’s anything but after she’s found herself in love.

Even though Kelly has a couple great singles and that oh so irresistable girl-next-door-thing going on, that isn’t what’s got this brit-pop-lovin’-pseudo-indie-boy smitten. What’s prompted this public declaration of love for Kelly Clarkson is the following news that caused me to conclude she’s a genuine sweetie.

Although I share her go big or go home approach to dating—only marriage material need apply—what really cements my love for Ms. Clarkson is that she won’t perform until she’s hugged her brother backstage. That’s right, you heard me; I’m all over Kelly Clarkson ‘cause she’s too nervous to perform till she gets her good-luck-hug from her bro. Yes, I’m very well aware that hugging your brother before going on stage is the antithesis of rock and roll and it’s probably bringing eye-rolls from many of you. But I don’t care. In fact, you can keep rolling those eyes all you want but it ain’t gonna change things for me. I for one think her grounded behaviour is not only cute, but it’s down right admirable.

So, Kelly, if you happen to be taking dating applications consider mine submitted.

London our thoughts are with you

2005-07-07T09:07:00.000-04:00

Reports are coming in that Al-Qaeda claims to have taken responsibility for a terrorist attack on London’s public transport system to coincide with the G8 summit in Scotland. Everything else including my last post seems pretty darn trivial about now. My thoughts are with Londoners, especially those affected by this tragedy and those panicking wondering about the safety of loved ones they haven’t contacted or can't contact 'cause the mobile networks are jammed. I can only hope that it turns out that the death tolls and injuries aren’t as bad as I’m reading.

For those wanting more information the Guardian has pretty comprehensive article here and BBC’s got complete coverage here.

Finger Poppin’ it all the way back home

2005-07-07T08:43:00.000-04:00

First I must apologise for woefully neglecting you, my dear (but few readers). Sure all you all knew I was covering for my dear Miss Valerie over at Rock Snob but, I cannot believe I didn’t once update this thing whilst taking over there. On top of that I haven’t used this thing in a good week since the lady had the wise decision to cut me off after she came back home.

Well that’s about to change; it’s time I update this thing as it gives me some sense of importance in my life, however false that may be. What better subject matter for the welcome home post than the one I left you on? That’s right it’s a post about rock and roll.

Here’s an overdue review of the Aqualung a.k.a. Matt Hales show in support of Strange and Beautiful (the North American hybrid of the U.K. release Still Life and his self-titled debut) at the Mod Club that happened this past Independence Day (July 4th).

The confusingly named Cary Brothers opened. Despite what his name might lead you to believe; he’s just one man with an acoustic guitar strumming away, while friend/guitarist-for-hire Jason Kanakis provided some repetative electric guitar riffs. I guess I just wasn’t in a mood to hear some folksy mid-west/ southern alternative pop, ‘cause I wasn’t feeling it. That being said things improved at the end of the set when first Matt Hales came to add some piano and then the rest of Matt’s band came out and helped fill out the sound for Blue Eyes, which you may or may not remember from some Zach Braff glorified music video that people were fawning over last year. Brothers promised to bring a band net time he came by, if he could afford it.

Although Aqualung isn’t the raucous dancey rock that I’ve been into for the past couple years, I was definitely in the mood for the slower mix of piano-based love, longing and sad songs ‘cause that mix is what I’ve been feeling for the past couple months or so. It’s been everything from outright joy to pretty darn doleful depending on the day. Now, I heart my rock and roll and fun music that I can dance to, but when I’m feeling less than stellar nothing quite appeals to me like a good stripped-down-piano-based tune with some raw emoting vocals.

Anyway, Matt “Aqualung” Hales and the boys in his tour band started with a slightly more rambunctious version of Good Times Gonna Come, minus the vocal distortion of the studio version. Although the crowd was quickly into it, things really didn’t get started for me till about handful of songs in when the band played Easier to Lie. On that tune the band got to rock out a bit, Matt Hales got to finish the end words of his lyrics in a melodic falsetto fashion and the sound engineer even had a little fun by sparingly using a bit of vocal reverb effect on Matt’s voice.

Even though there wasn’t whole a lot of musical flourishes and embellishments that tend to make for a good live show, Matt Hales and the boys more than made up for it with the other thing that I wish more bands would do—entertaining anecdotes and general stage fun. Being this far in the tour, Matt said they generally do a whole lot of messing about at soundcheck. He used that story to launch into a minute's worth of “one of the great songs of soft rock”, Toto’s Rosanna. The band then played a quick 15 seconds of Toto’s Africa after Matt remarked than he needed a transition from such a happy song to one of his sadder songs (I believe it was Breaking My Heart, but I could be wrong as I’m working from memory and not notes). All this brought much applause and laughter, but unfortunately it fed the bears who shouted requests to cover everything from Kenny G to Queen.

Aqualung closed the set with the love song Brighter than Sunshine, which had a good part of the crowd bobing and singing right along. Speaking of love songs one of the first thoughts that came to mind was that the choice plus one for this event would have been the significant someone in your life. The applause after Brighter Than Sunshine continued for a minute till Matt came back for a solo encore song and was later joined by the rest of the band, who finished up the songs on Strange and Beautiful and even performed a cover from the Beach Boys' classic Pet Sounds. But the highlight of the encore had be a continuation of the impromptu song he started early about Canada. The song was going to be about Toronto, but Matt Hales didn’t know enough about the city so he settled on a song about Canada. He stumbled before he started after he couldn’t think of a word that rhymed with Canada. Guitarist and brother Ben Hales suggest panda, which naturally became “panada.” Sheer brilliance I say, sheer brilliance.

It’s the Rock and Roll life for me

2005-06-02T20:17:00.000-04:00

Hey folks as you may or may not know my beloved blog girlfriend Rock Snob’s off ‘causin’ major troubs in Europe for the month of June. The lady graciously threw an invite my way to contribute to her infamous Rock Snob blog.

Since I’ve been such a fan of lady and her blog for at least a good year and a half, I figured I’d try and give a little something back by accepting the invite and postin’ furiously. Let me tell you folks even with an RSS reader chock full of feeds it ain’t easy to try and live up to that level of quality. So that means for the time being Diary of a Finger Popper will be on a bit of a hiatus.

That doesn’t mean I’ll be abandoning you completely. I’ll post here with the occasionally thought/story/anecdote that just doesn’t fit nicely into the Rock Snob format and style. But for the most part, I’ll be hanging out there, because even though I wouldn’t trade my loyal Finger Popper fanbase for anything, the Rock Snob gig is far too glamorous to pass up. Besides, I’m looking at my stint there as an opportunity to hopefully gain some new fans so all you all won’t have to shoulder so much of the comment burden.

I promise I’ll be back here and making up for much neglect as soon as the lovely lady returns. But until then if you want your MikeD fix head on over to Rock Snob.

Can you make it me plus more Cowbell?

2005-05-26T20:09:00.000-04:00

Those unfortunate enough to get me in a conversation about music late last year know I was and still am pushin’ nothing but love for Norway’s euro-dance diva Annie.

Annie’s sound on Anniemal. is a sparkly blissful pop that is the perfect complement to the dance floor antics I like to regularly partake in.

Anyway I came across this interview and apparently the Rapture have remixed the dance floor credo Me Plus One, my favourite cut from Anniemal.

Upon hearing that my brain nearly exploded at the thought of the possibilities; some dirty dance punk highlights could be the perfect foil to Annie’s shiny euro dance-pop. But it could also turn out like the Daft Punk remix of the Archdukes Take Me Out. I’m hoping for the former.

BUT If by chance the Rapture are reading this for some last minute polishing tips I say take out some of the dog barks and the bell sound of Me Plus One and replace it with more cowbell!

Dance floor stormers—here’s comes summer edition

2005-05-20T15:49:00.000-04:00

Dance floor stormers—here’s comes summer edition

In honour of the upcoming unofficial start of summer, the May 2-4 Victoria Day long-weekend, here’s a set of tunes that captures the feeling of summer.

4. Under the Sun—Junior Boys
When I first heard Juniors Boys I hated them. That was stupid. Last Exit was one of last year’s best albums with minimal beats and swanky vocals that would demand the attention of even the most jaded loungegoer. Under the Sun stands out on the album ‘of choice tracks ‘cause as my buddy Punk is Dead remarks, it takes some serious moxy to just rely on strong drum beat for a good couple minutes mid-song. So you’re probably thinking other than the reference to the Sun in the title exactly why’s it on the list? Frankly, getting the moxy to do wild stuff that you’d never consider is what summer’s a about.

You can stream Under the Sun and the rest of Last Exit hither.

3. Sunshowers (Diplo Mix)—M.I.A.
Here’s some action from Ms. Arulpragasam in honour of the LCD Soundsystem/M.I.A. double bill at the Opera House tomorrow (now that’s a reason to forgo the cottage this weekend if I’ve ever heard one). Sure the song’s subject matter is political and that puts it at odds with the catchy laid back Southeast Asian beats on the Arular version. But this version off the M.I.A./Diplo project Piracy Funds Terrorism is much gritter and thus more fitting of the subject matter and summer in general. I need not remind you that come mid summer your MO should be about going out and getting dirty and gritty.

Plus if link this bad boy instead of the Arular version I get to forward all y’all to the Piracy Funds Terrorism Album courtesy of the under appreciated Coke Machine Glow.

UPDATE: It appears that this link unfortunately goes nowhere. But since I hate disappointing all y’all here’s just Sunshowers.

2. Hello Sunshine—Super Furry Animals

This beautifully little ditty was co-opted by the O.C. in a scene where Summer and Seth first have sex. Just as Gruff Rhys starts singing the lyrics “Hello sunshine”, Summer takes off her top. Thus this song will always be associated with pleasant memories for both Seth and I. Now if making out and having sex with a beautiful woman on her bed doesn’t scream summer good times I don’t know what does.

This version isn’t the original but a remix by Toronto DJ Davy Love. At first it sounds like he just added a drum machine and some cheesy cosmic flourishes to the original, then about the 4 minute mark the drum machine really kicks in, the lyric sample hits repeat and out comes some very cool layering of guitars and sounds effects. I don’t like it better than the original but it’s a nice change. Download it here.

Best of all

1. Here comes Summer—Fiery Furnaces
I know the Furnaces’ schizophrenic hook changes and childlike delivery of their sometimes stream of consciousness lyrics grate a lot of folks. If that’s the case for you I implore you to give ‘Here Comes Summer’ and the rest of the more straightforward than ‘Blueberry Boat’ relase ‘EP’ a spin. I’ll be damned if I don’t take every opportunity I can to give prolific innovators like the Furances all the love they can get. Plus could the title and subject matter about not being able to wait for summer to come be any more appropriate for this list?

Grab a piece of the Furnaces take on summer here.

Enjoy the weekend kids. . Grab some more hawtt action after the jump.

Jehovah’s Witnesses made my day

2005-05-20T12:12:00.000-04:00

I just got a hilarious visit from those good ol’ Jehovah’s Wittinesses. Surprisingly, they were quite pleasant and actually had a sense of humour.

Using the good word of the big B book, they were trying to bend some passage about green overflowing from the tops of mountains to mean the end of famine in the not too distant future.

Even if you don’t think the premise is lacking and you can forgive the logical hoops you gotta jump through to make the argument work, we already have enough food to feed the world. We just choose to give it to cattle or dispose of it to keep commodities prices stable.

They pretty much lacked an explanation for why that happens other than the standard God will step up and help those who believe and do his work.

Inevitably they ask me, come judgment time what do you think God will to those who’ve been ignoring his words? Not being able to help my snarkastic self, I say, “Demonstrate an ironic sense of humour and let us slackers bask in all his luxury and glory.” Instead of a stern non-approving look I actually got a good thirty-seconds of laughter from the two ladies.

They then try and guilt me taking some of the promotional propaganda by complementing on my jovial personality and conversation. Although appealing to my ego generally gets you everywhere, I generally don’t respond to guilt trips along the lines of ‘I’d hate for something bad to happen to you ‘cause you weren’t doing something you should have been doing. (Pleas note that propaganda remark isn’t a slight against Jehovah’s witness. It’s just what I call all promotional material like brochures, pamphlets, etc. regardless of the source.)

Needless to say when it came time to accept the offer of said propaganda I politely refused saying something about this being a pretty secular house and that I simply wouldn’t read it so its best to save it for someone who might.

At that point we exchanged pleasantries and I wished them luck but not before the lady asked about my T-shirt (design pictured below). In the panic of pretty much being woken up by the doorbell I threw on yesterday’s shirt and jeans. She asked me if the T-shirt was true and I said no that’s me being snarkastic hipster and ‘cause I cannot play an instrument to save my life. They laughed again and were on her way.

So suffice to say if this is the norm with Jehovah’s Witnesses the next time one comes knocking on the door and I’ve got a few minutes I won’t be so reluctant to shoot the breeze. Grab some more hawtt action after the jump.

The trees were ripped a new one

2005-05-18T12:18:00.000-04:00

So I hit up the British Sea Power show at Lee’s with Punk is Dead and ’twas a good time.

We walked in about halfway through the Most Serene Republic’s set but it was good enough to get a feel for the band. Punk is Dead noted that they looked as if they were in high school and comments about kicking each other’s butts at Halo 2 confirmed that if they weren’t in high school physically, they sure were mentally.

As for the band's sound, the lead singer sounded as if he were trying to channel a little Ben Gibbard but, despite that emo tinge the band had a pretty melodic sonic feel with some fun trombone thrown in. The highlight of the set was when the lead signer said that the penultimate song was for “all the ladies” and he proceeded to dance all wacky like Napoleon Dynamite and do a little white boy beat box action. Still as funny as that sounded it got a little grating when he was fishing for laughs by saying ridiculously stuff like “Asparagus, pick it while it’s fresh.

You should probably take the above with some healthy skepticism ‘cause I was really disappointed that Toronto got short changed. The most of the rest of the tour got to see lovely Leslie Feist . I’ll have to catch her another time.

Next came British Sea Power who failed to stop rockin’ the whole time through their approximately hour and a half set. Unfortunately, I had a little trouble enjoying it to its fullest because I happen to be next to Mr. rock-concert-cliché himself. Dude was the standard shaggy looking caucasian male, double fisting his Molson Stock Ale, nodding his head and constantly yelling “Woooooooo!”

Now don’t get me wrong I encourage people to enjoy themselves and I throw out my fair share of “Ow, Owwwwwwwws.” But when you’re shouting it four and five times per song, including the softer ones and your girlfriend tells you to “shut up” take the clue ‘cause you’ve overstepped slightly inebriated fun guy and are now firmly in jackass territory.

I’m also pretty sure somebody threw a beer bottle at the back of my leg—it had more force than if somebody had accidentally knocked it off a table. When I turned around to see what was kind of tomfoolery was going on behind me I got a death stare as if I had done it. Getting hit with the bottle didn’t really bother me; that kind of thing happens. But what really got me incensed was the lack of an apology. But that digression’s a rant for another day.

Now, back to the show.

The early part of the set was a little disappointing. If I closed my eyes I could’ve been listening to Open Season on the home stereo. I want a little experimentation or some stories in my live shows. Still the set did not disappoint.

It really got kicking about four songs in during Apologies To Insect Life where I believe it was Eamon who donned a safety helmet, grabbed a drum and proceed to walk amongst the entire audience in the club, banging it as hard as he could. Now that’s the kind of craziness I expected.

Unfortunately the energy level didn’t get back up there until the finale where Yan crowd surfed, Noble proceed to climb all over the stage equipment and lights like a monkey before ending up on Hamilton's shoulders during a sprawling rendition of Fear Of Drowning. Now that’s the way to close a show.

So despite the lack of an encore, the band threw on a pretty stellar set that was enjoyed by all. In case you’re wondering the bands equipment was covered in tree branches and Hamilton did bad mouth the trees.

Also, there was no boy touching and I was unable to get close enough to the band to get them to throw some love Rock Snob’s way. Grab some more hawtt action after the jump.

The Zutons' drummer is going to hell

2005-05-17T16:02:00.000-04:00

If you read my blog girlfriend Rock Snob's blog or have a passing interest in British pop culture news/gossip (and why wouldn't you, both are wildly entertaining), you'll remember how Sean 'didn't-your-mother-teach-you-if-you-don't-have-anything-nice-to-say-don't-say-anything-at-all' Payne, who bangs the drums for the Zutons, ripped the idea of Kylie closing this year's Glastonbury . Well it appears somebody out there with a very twisted personality must like Sean for some inexplicable reason 'cause Kylie's reluctantly had to cancel..

Why?

Kyle's been diagnosed with breast cancer. It's pretty serious because she's so young. But the fact that she appears to have caught it early helps.

Here's to a full and speedy recovery from the woman who with (the divine Emilia Torrini and Dan Carey) brought us the sultry song Slow and the absolutely stunning Agent Provacteur line.

If I was Sean I'd be all over the good deeds 'cause if anything happens to Kylie, dude's in for a lifetime of seriously bad karma. Sean also best be real nice to the person who checks his fan mail cause I’ll bet there’s a lot of nasty surprises coming his way. People please don’t send the Zutons hate mail of any kind it’s just not worth the effort.

Let this be a lesson to all you I-have-low-self-esteem-so-I’m-gonna-compensate-by-publically-slaging-another-celeb-rock-star-types. Be mindful of what you say because it could come back to kick you in the kidneys.

And for gosh sakes all of you in a band that read this thing please, please, keep the drummer's mouth shut. This a perfectly good example of how nothing good can come of a drummer speaking.

Don't you just love cryptic blog posts?

2005-05-16T00:05:00.000-04:00

I had an amazing weekend.

The Letter of Truth

2005-05-13T08:32:00.000-04:00

Hi all y’all, I just wanted to set the record straight on side of the story since there’s been a lot of insults thrown and accusations made in the love triangle involving Dodge, the beautiful Rock Snob and myself.

Fact 1: Dodge and Rock snob had a blog relationship before I came on the scene.

Fact 2: Said relationship has, like any good relationship, seen its ups and downs.

Fact 3: Although I may be a young and lacking in the experience of blogging relationships I for one would never ever unilaterally brake up with my blog girlfriend because she didn’t like a White Stripes single. Rock Snob’s far too amazing of a woman to pull those kind of games. I’ll give Dodge credit for seeing the error of his ways on the matter, but frankly there was need for it to get to the point.

Fact 4: I’m not trying to steal Rock Snob. I’ve been reading her blog for some time. I gave her a tip on a new story. We corresponded a few times and found out we shared common interests. Fast forward to here where I get a marriage proposal from my Dharlin’ Rock Snob. Realising that it really doesn’t get better than that, I gleefully accept. Now Dodge, I’m not saying the proposal speaks to the state of your relationship with Rock Snob, because it doesn’t, but I am saying that it’s not like I’m some homewreaker who went into this trying to seduce her away.

Fact: 5: Dodge and I both care for Rock Snob. That much we can agree on, but when I go around trying to show my love I don’t say things like “the Snob is young, hot and bores easily.” You’ll get no argument form me on the first two, but the third? That’s ludicrous! I firmly believe if you're lucky enough to catch the attention of a beautiful, funny, sweet and charming woman like Rock Snob, you darn well treat her like the queen she is. I may be no expert in the ways of blog romance, but to my ears those words sound more like an insult than a complement. Don't get me worng, I’m not obtuse. I do realise it was meant as a slight to me, but there’s no need to insult the lady if you wanna take a shot at me.

So all this and Rock Snob’s replies have helped me confirm what I’ve said the whole time, a peaceful method is the way to go. I’m calling for my worthy rival to put an end to all this drama, stop the petty insults, accept a truce on the matter and agree to share the time and affection of the one and only Rock Snob. Why? ‘Cause if you really care for her you’ll do what makes her happy.

Dodge, the ball's in your court.

Dodge, I accept your acceptance with a smack from my leather glove.

2005-05-12T12:25:00.000-04:00

It appears peaceful methods and lovin’ have failed to solve the issues in the love triangle between Doge, Rock Snob and I. If you look hither and yonder it appears Dodge wants to see this thing end the old fashioned way—a duel.

Although I don’t agree that my Dharling Rock Snob can be a prize (I think that’s sexist and demeaning), I’m formally accepting Dodge’s acceptance to my last resort solution of an ol’ fashioned southern style duel.

Now I’m no southerner but I’ve seen a few westerns and cartoons, so I figure an appropriate time and venue is high noon at Monday in the town square, next to the ol’ saloon. It’ll give Dodge some time to rest after the Killers concert from last night. After a careful inspection of our weapons by some impartial third party, we’ll shake hands, turn our backs, walk forty paces and draw. When it’s over the best man wins.

I’m pretty sure that’s how it goes but I’ll show some gentlemanly decorum and defer to my worthy opponent Dodge to clarify, rectify or add anything to the above.

Now it’s off to the NES and Duck Hunt for some practice session ‘cause even though my opponent might appear to have the edge I ain’t losin’ my Belle.

MikeD

MikeD a.k.a the Angelina Jolie of the blog world

2005-05-11T18:00:00.000-04:00

So I have a boatload of work to do and I really shouldn’t be blogging but how do I not immediately drop everything respond to this and this ? That’s right folks even though I’ve only been on the blog scene a short time it appears that I've been able to cause some serious trouble.

I apoligse to both Dodge , who has what might be the best Mp3 blog ‘round, and Rock Snob , who happens to be sharpest, funniest, and most beautiful woman I know (she also writes the best pop culture and music blog I know), for any rift I caused in their blog relationship. I’m willing to accept Dodge’s solution but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop throwin’ plenty of love Rock Snob's way. If Dodge doesn’t like it he may have to challenge me to an old-fashioned-southern-style duel.

So watch out folks I may not need the O.C. tomorrow because the drama over here in blog land right now is looking better than anything Josh Schwartz has put out this season.

MikeD

P.S. That was your reminder to watch the O.C. tomorrow.

This year the colour of masculinity is pink

2005-05-09T19:30:00.000-04:00

If you haven’t noticed pink’s popping up in the men’s lines of the spring collection at all the usual hipster hot spots and I for one love it. Actually I don’t because pink’s my favourite colour and I’d rather not have the Maxim reading crowd delude my bold fashion statement.

Still I figure I’m safe because it’ll take a good long while to change the perception that pink is a colour for girls. That wasn’t always the case. Pink used to be a colour for boys. It was scene as a diluted form of red—a powerful aggressive colour. The baby blue that’s now given to boys was actually a colour for baby girls. It was seen as more delicate.

That kind of thinking is more than a little outdated, but so is the idea that certain colours are only for certain sexes. So if this trend helps change that I’ll be happy. It’ll be nice to walk down the street without being heckled with an epitaph by some dude who gets an ego boost by yelling homophobic slurs out of car windows.

But, if this is just a trend that’s fine by me. I like to stand out a bit and pink is the perfect colour to dress up those blacks and grays. If that wasn’t enough, there isn’t a lady I haven’t met that doesn’t think a guy confidently wearing pink is hot. Who doesn’t want that kind of attention?

I heart Hollanders

2005-05-09T19:25:00.000-04:00

Despite the whole connotation that the brownie cafés, the red light district of Amsterdam and the corporate practices of Royal Dutch Shell bring, I’ve always thought the Dutch on the whole were a classy people, especially to us Canadians.

The Dutch still give thanks to Canadian vets for liberating them from Nazi Forces in WWII. They also remember how the Canadian Government was able to declare then Princess Juliana Wilhelmina’s hospital room part of the Netherlands so that Princess Margriet could be born in her home country. The Royal family was so thankful they gave the Canadians tulips. Hence the Ottawa’s Tulip Festival .

If that wasn’t enough every year in Apeldoorn they hold a parade especially for Canadian war vets. It isn’t just old people that attend the parade either, this year over 200,000 Babyboomers , Gen Xer and Yer came out give thanks and pay respect to the surviving vets. That’s something we rarely do in here. Maybe it’s because the war happened in Europe or perhaps it’s because we just aren’t taught about it in school.

Unfortunately, this year is going to be the last big celebration because fewer and fewer vets can attend. Officials are saying the parade will continue and but their scaling back on festivities. That’s an understandable reality but I hope it doesn’t mean the respect and thanks the Dutch have for Canadians will fade out because it would be a shame.

It’s just a shirt, now button it

2005-05-04T01:27:00.000-04:00

This gorgeous little number is a button down shirt.

Although equally pretty, this hot piece of tailored material is not a button down. It’s just a shirt of the regular straight-point collar variety.

I might have confused some people who are now saying ‘But they both have buttons on the front you poindexter.”

Yes they both have buttons, but the first doesn’t have the wide spread on the collar because there are buttons on the front to the shirt to button down the holes on the collar to. That’s where the term button down comes from.

The first button down shirts were modeled after polo shirts, which could be buttoned down so the collar didn’t flip up hit a player in the face during the match. Now the term is being abused, to include all shirts with buttons on the front. In the above link, which is an example indicative of this trend, only the third shirt on the top row is a button down shirt, yet the other seven are erroneously listed under the button down shirt category.

I’m not sure how it came to be that button down referred to any shirt that has buttons on the front. Perhaps it’s because outside of formal occasions and the workplace most people don’t wear them. Nevertheless the dumbing down of button down is quite disturbing. Sure it might seem like a minor thing because it’s only the dumbing down of fashion but it’s not. It’s also dumbing down of the English language. For someone who loves words and language it’s a painful thing to encounter. But that’s a rant for another time.

Mike'please refer to them as shirts and not button downs'D

P.S. Since button down collars were derived from shirt worn while playing sports they are considered less formal than the regular straight-point collar shirt. Just in case you were wondering they should kept buttoned with or without a tie.

A public service announcement for the polo shirt debasers.

2005-05-03T21:41:00.000-04:00

If you love the polo shirt I’m pleading with you to wear it as it is meant to be worn, with the collar down. I’ll repeat that again. Please for the love of all that is right in the universe shirt collars belong down. The only time you should ever wear a shirt collar up is when you are putting on a tie and that doesn’t apply to polos.

You see, the problem is when you flip-up that collar you tip the shirt’s careful balance of formal and casual in the favour of just plain casually goofy. I know the ‘80s apologists and the fratboy–types out there are saying ‘but poppin’ the collar on my polo shows I’ve got an individual style of my own.’ To those people I present the photographic evidence below.

Now I ask do these boys look like they have individual style or do they look like those guys at the bar who grind with anyone in a mini and high five their buddies when the inebriated-Ugg-wearing-poppin'-out-of-her-halter-top-‘woman’ doesn’t immediately slap them?

I'm not going to place all the blame on those pinin’ to be Zack Morris collar flippers. Although they should take responsibility for this particular fashion don’t, it doesn’t help that some companies actually encourage them to do.

I’m telling you right now when they approved the design for that offensive polo-like shirt they were probably counting on people buying it because they thought it was ironic. Well it’s not. The only thing remotely humourous about it is that they actually convinced some people to buy the thing.

So to recap, all collars on polo shirts are to stay down—no exceptions. If you follow this bit of advice, treat a lady like a proper gentleman and you channel some of that Cary Grant charm crica North By Northwest , you just might be lucky enough to be in this guy’s position.

MikeD

A case for yet another blog or the manifesto of a finger popper

2005-05-03T03:17:00.000-04:00

I know the last thing the world needs is another self-indulgent blog. This is coming from somebody who contributes to the self-proclaimed Worst Blog is History. But I had a request from my surrogate sister Célina to restart a blog so she could read about my dance floor exploits with the randoms now that I’ve left Ottawa.

Well dear consider your wish sorta granted.

Yes my fun with randoms on the dance floor will no doubt be a significant part of my blog because as anyone who knows me solely as MikeD will attest I love to dance, especially to music of the Britpop, indie rock, dance punk and northern soul variety. But my dancing, as entertaining as it might be, won’t be the sole topic of this blog ‘cause that would no doubt get old fast. I’ll also be talking about my passions for food and drink, fashion, technology, music, pop culture and I’ll even throw in a few thoughts about the general happenings in the world.

If that interests you then great, I’m grateful to have you as a reader and I’ll gladly take any tips and or improvement advice that you can offer me. I also encourage you to comment frequently mainly because I love attention but also ‘cause it makes for a better blog.

So with that out of the way I’ll see you at the beach,

MikeD

P.S. In case you were wondering I borrowed the blog title from the 1965 Ike and Tina Turner soul classic Finger Poppin’