this is a poem

this is for toronto
this is for spitting men in pink shirts
this is for singing in elevators by yourself
this is for hot dog vendors who lie about what's in the meat
this is for people who clutch their ipods like a crucifix against their chest
this is for feeling like drinking scotch while wearing a tie in a hotel bar at night
this is for finding inspiration in dirty streets, clean people, warm pizza
this is for wanting to watch tv in my underwear in front of an open window
this is for the creepy silence of the streets at midnight on a thursday
this is for the incoming rainstorm collecting over lake ontario
this is for cold feet and warm sweaters
this is for bedtime




I miss home.
saturday.

sometimes it rains, sometimes it hurricanes.

Above is the pagan symbol for chaos.
Wikipedia says:
Chaos derives from the Greek Χάος and typically refers to unpredictability. In the metaphysical sense, it is the opposite of law and order: unrestrictive, both creative and destructive.

Sometimes I feel like my life is like that, where I'm the middle, and I'm being pulled in a million different directions. One way is love, another is work, another is my past and my future...and another is the unpredictable direction.
In this case, that direction is east.

I haven't been east (except for my recent trip) in years...and now, by complete happenstance, I'm about to get on a plane tomorrow morning for four more days in Toronto, this time attending a conference on "Urban Youth Gangs & Violence", covering it for a radio show I used to host years ago called Youth Menace.

My vida is gaddam loca sometimes.
More road stories to come.

Genius. Amazing. Fascinating.

let the whole thing load for smooth delivery.

V is for awesome

V For Vendetta might be one of the best films I've ever seen in my life. More on that in a bit.

I know I haven't blogged much since I got back from my trip...so let me take you up to date...it snowed here this weekend. And by 'snowed' I mean that mother nature took one massive wet, white dump all over Edmonton, snaring both traffic and emotions in a tangled, frustrating mess. I snapped when I shouldn't have. I was snapped at for unnecessary reasons. We're sorry. It's ok now.

Last friday, I worked a show for the mighty mighty D.O.A., where I finally met, for the first time, the legendary Joey 'Shithead' Keithly. What a professional, polite and extemely level-headed punk. It was both an honor and a privledge to work with the band (who were completely fucking killer, by the way)...and it reminded me in a sense to not forget where I came from. I am a punk, through and through. I might dance all ravercore and listen to a brazzilion kinds of different music, but in the end...I'm punk, and I don't feel akward admitting it. I have politics and attitudes that don't fit elsewhere into a nice, neat package...namely those which I decided several years ago were a little...much to reconcile.

These were mostly those surrounding anarchism, a tenet that I held close to my chest with a strange passion that I had trouble placing. It was about 'knowing' right from wrong, just from unjust; about when to fight and when to lie down. it was about love and commitment and art and fun and making fun of the man in a public (and sometimes destructive) way. It was about creative thinking, beyond democracy and body politics and I saw proof positive in the Situationists, in 1968 France, in the "Enrages" and the student protests that changed modern European history.

But then something happened; I lost my way. I lost the energy that it takes to make change. I lost the dream, the drive and the push to make my world better. It was something in the way that people voted. That Bush got re-elected. That Albertans simply don't give a fuck. That we deny artists the right to work; and that we deny their value to society. I was just as surprised as any to have a hollywood blockbuster-type film get my mind jogging around these concepts again, around the value of aesthetics in revolution and the need to make revolt fun, peaceful, and because we want it.

Is this too much to ask? To want? The greatest changes in human history haven't come through nonviolent means...Ward Churchill notes that pacifism is a pathology, a state of mind, not a set of beliefs or actions. This state can be warped into a defense mechanism whereby we arm ourselves to defend the greater good, so to speak...but would you do it? Would I do it? I can't decide. I couldn't then, and I'm no closer to deciding now.

I guess it's the same question soldiers must ask themselves...is it JUST to die for your country? Is it JUST if the reasons you are fighting are fabricated for someone else's profit? Is it patriotic to want a change? I love Canada, but not because of the mounties or the 'tolerant' government, but because of its culture and people. But if I was asked tomorrow to take up arms in a struggle against real or imagined enemies, I'm not sure I would.

Does that make me a bad person? A bad citizen?

Seeing V for Vendetta last night made we wonder just that. In the movie, a mysterious assassin starts picking off key members of the 'council', and breaks into a TV station to deliver a message that one year from that night, a revolution would oust the corrupt, neo-facist government, led by the people. He does this all dressed as Guy Fawkes, a 15th-century anarchist in his own right, who tried to blow up Parliament in London as a statement against the protestant/strong arm of the government; he was later hanged for his crimes. The character 'V' embodies this position and person, ruthlessly offing all who stand in his way...which is where I'm confused. Do the ends justify the means? Not just in the film (in which they do), but in general? Do we arm ourselves against a peaceful government because of the threat of it turning ugly? Would a government do that, in these times?

Desperate times often call for desperate measures...but governments should fear their citizens...gah, I'm drowning in cliches. Help me.

considerations...

...I know I rarely if ever post two blogs in a day...but a myspace conversation with my friend Sjon has inspired me to repost it, because I think it's got a point or several.

I first posted links to Tim Fite, Pink Mountaintops and Casiotone For The Painfully Alone. To which he replied,


Not really in regards to what you've suggested, because I liked what I heard, but is it just me or is the world more intrigued by simplicity? Musically I mean. it just seems like more bands are coming out but their skills instrumentally are no match for their egos. it's like all you need is the right look and great networking skills and next thing you know they're the newest, most amazing shit! When i check a lot of bands, I always wonder, if these fuckers are making it, why the fuck am i not?!?! i mean, I've been playing since before my rave days, before a lot of these "great" bands even conceived the idea of playing guitar. I'm just fuming at the thought. BUT, there are a lot of really good bands out there, and as a guitarist myself, i listen even closer to other guitar players, and in the whole indie thing, the guitar playing is incredibly easy and it amazes me how it amazes others!

Bands that I think take it to the next level: Stereolab, mars Volta, John Frusciante, Björk, Radiohead, Blonde Redhead, Autolux, Aphex Twin, Chemical Brothers, LCD Soundsystem, N.E.R.D. , and that's all i can think of off the top of my head. There's more though...

Anyways, I'll bitch to someone else.


Good points, all around. I responded,


sjon

I think there is a difference between simplicity and minimalism. Sometimes the catchiness of a song isn't about how technical the instrumentation is...you mentioned Stereolab - I don't question the talent for a second, but their music is really formulaic, no?

Having not much to work with is sometimes a benefit - as in, not too much talent, not too many instruments - a guy and his casios can make a record and sell 10,000 copies because it's different on that plane than anything else. it might not be technically proficient, but in the end it's "THE SONG" that gets you attention.

when I was in toronto, I saw this 'celebrity interview' between Tony Wilson (manager of Joy Division, New Order, godfather of the rave movement) and Seymour Stein (president Sire Records - signed Madonna, Ramones, Depeche Mode, among others)...and both were talking about the change in SOUND, that there are so many LESS HITS these days...lasting ones, with those eternal riffs and bass lines (a la Satisfaction, Love will tear us apart, etc)...artists are promoted with a shelf life -it's a sad fact, but only the fans can change that by demanding better music.

those bands you mentioned DO push it ahead, I agree, but all of those are doing do using a formula that they've established as popular to their fans...you don't see Stereolab or Blonde Redhead risking their status by putting out some bizzare concept album...but you see artists like Matmos or Tussle or Pink Mountaintops or Destroyer responding to the push in music towards new sounds, new hooks and themes, answering a call, persay.


to which he responded,



I fully understand minimalism for sure. After all, I am a fan of John Frusciante's guitar playing, the reigning king of guitar minimalism. Just like you said, upon your conversation with Tony Wilson and Seymour Stein, a lot of music lacks the timeless riffs/basslines/etc. I just hate when the minimalism lacks that maximum effect, like when it gets lost in being lacklustre. I heard that Frusciante actually steps it up on the new RHCP double album because he feels his guitar playing is too minimal. I feel there are a lot of bands that honestly, minus the vocals, can be mistaken for eachother. There is an indie sound that has, as you say, made its own way of being formulaic. That dual guitar, (which a great guitar player can do on his own), that cowbell, those synths (which will never surpass its achievements in the 80's), and that dance beat (that tries to recapture what it did to the dancefloors of warehouses in the raves of the 90's). Don't get me wrong, I've heard plenty of songs that have these elements that I enjoy, and I love the mashing of sounds/eras, but as I've said, take out the vocals, and all these bands can be mistaken for eachother.

And I also want to say that Beck is a GENIUS.


Sjon is awesome. Check his CHOONS, yes?

RNDM2

rocking my socks right fucking now:

Tim Fite.

The DJ at Korova played his track "No Good Here", and I ran up and said "What the fuck is this!" and she replied "Tim Fite! It makes me cry it's so good!" Then I was in Vancouver and the girl at Red Cat Records wouldn't sell me her play copy 'cause it's too damn rad! What the fuck?! Who knew?!

Pop Sheep.

One of my favorite blogs of the moment - smart kids who listen to smart music.

Pink Mountaintops.

The Black Mountain Army can do no wrong. "Axis of Evol" is set to be one of my favorite releases of 2006. Plus they posted this bizzare little gem on their site:


A Conversation About Manawin

"Do you think he'll take it the wrong way if I try not to touch him?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, to be perfectly honest I find him a little repulsive."
"Most people do."
"...but I don't want his feelings to be hurt. I still consider him somewhat a friend."
"An untouchable friend?"
"That's correct."

With that they saw Manawin's trembling frame jolt past the front door of the cafe coupled with a loud sickly cry echoing the sound of a mother whale during the final seconds of birth.

"He'll never forgive us."
"Manawin rarely does... consider him a ghost and let him die."
"If I must then must I will. Goodbye Manawin."


and with that, I'm out.

Failed reflexes & dead fish

OK this first..I meant to post it in Toronto...the last night I was there I visited Keith & Richard one last time, I found this note on Richards' desk, written in the best drunk scrawl EVER:


"Bjork and Primes should do a song together because there weird it would be like 'i am bjork not on the beat' with him and he'd be all "purple rain".


I laughed and laughed...and no, it doesn't really make much sense. But funny, holy shit funny.

Anyways.

I'm back.
I'm tiiiiiiiired.

Vancouver in a nutshell: fun.

I got there last sunday and went to meet Leah...we hung for a bit then met some friends and went for Sushi at my favorite Japanese restaurant on EARTH, Samurai. I ate myself dizzy. I won't bother you with the details of rainy days, long bus rides , endless eating, cheap pitchers, old friends reuniting...but I have 2 unrelated stories for you:

This first one might sound familiar...but the ending is fucked, so hold tight.

So yesterday (Tuesday) we're walking down Smithe Street in downtown Vancouver, and I'm just looking ahead about a block and I see this guy trip and fall on the street, in the crosswalk, but in front of car which was stopped at a light. I laughed to myself, as we cruel cruel humans tend to do...but then he didn't get up. People were kind of stopping and trying to talk to him...but he kept lying there. By the time I got to him, the driver of the car was on his cell with 911, and this big guy was trying to get this guy to respond. Picture this: a guy in his mid-40s, greying. Leather jacket. Leather shoes. Dockers. Both hands in his pockets, which made me think that he didn't have a chance to get his hands out in front of him before he fell.

But isn't that a REFLEX? To protect yourself? So I started to think...oh man, this guy must have been wasted drunk in the middle of the afternoon, didn't react fast enough when he fell, he's now hit his head on the curb and is out cold. Like, OUT COLD. We're shaking him, yelling in his ear, checking pulse, etc...no response. He's breathing heavily and I'm looking on his wrists for medical bracelets or anything...then I notice something kind of weird. His pants are kind of undone, or atleast the belt was loose. I didn't really give it much thought; then the ambulance arrived and we stepped back...they checked his neck and decided he was ok to flip onto his back - which is when I saw that I was right, kinda. His belt WAS undone. So was his pants...and his dick was hanging out. No shit.

ok, so let's review. Mid-40s Normal Joe Leather Coat guy trips and falls when drunk, hits his head, gets knocked out. PANTS DOWN, DICK OUT. This wasn't a 'falling out' or a slippage...he was wearing white boxer briefs, and as any guy can attest...there isn't any falling out of those. So this guy was walking with his dick hanging out, hands in both pockets, running for a light, and trips, knocking himself out.

How mortifying. How sad. How thought-provoking. HOW did that guy end up THERE, THEN, THAT day? WHAT happened in the minutes before? WHY WAS HIS DICK OUT?! I've been running though scenarios in my mind since then. It's a serious conundrum to me. I don't fucking get it. Any insight anyone has...dish it.

The second story is short and sweet:

Stereolab, one of my favorite bands of all time, were awesome awesome last night. That band is SO tight and SO controlled...knowing exactly when to break and bend and twist with eachother. Laetita is the ideal frontperson - smooth, confident, funny. I'd like to say the same of Hot Chip's demure on-stage, but they barely said anything. Good thing their music completely slayed, or I would have been a wee bit disappointed. The 10-minute version of "Down With Prince" was the icing on an already hot-as-fuck cake...

I repeat: Hot Chip : Completely Slayed.

Thank you to everyone who helped make my trip superfun. You know who you are. You may or may not be mentioned in a blog below. I don't think my life is so exciting that I'll be blogging as much or excitedly in the coming days...but thanks for the kind words and encouragement from strangers. I like it. I like you.

villians and (would-be) thieves.

So last night after Rollie completely killed the room @ the Silver Dollar, and after the Hylozoists took my ears to the fucking cleaners...we (Rollie, Weez-L, Rob & Shae) went outside to have a smoke and disperse to other shows...

The Silver Dollar is on one sketchy corner. There's a men's hostel next door a 24-3 afterhours in the basement and a no-star hotel on top of it. Not a fun corner. We're standing outside and we hear this car screech to a halt and I see this crackhead walking against traffic screaming about something, as cars swerve around him. He knows the OTHER sketchcase huddling in front of the club, so he comes over, whispers to his friend, and they start circling us.

Lets call these 2 Carsketch (traffic destroyer) and ...Cracksketch (also cracked out).

Carsketch, to Weez-l: YOU KNOW LIL'WAYNE? YOU KNOW LIL'WAAAAYYYYNE??!!!!MUTHAFUCKA??!!

Weez: Like Cash Money? I know that Lil'Wayne....

Carsketch: YOU GOT CASH MONEY MOTHAFUCKA?!! LIL'WAYNE OWES ME CASH MONEY, BIIIITCH!!

Weez: uh...I gotta go.

Carsketch: COME OVER HEEEREES. I GOTTA SHOW YOU SOMETHIN. COME WITH MEEEEE.

Weez: no, walkin.

C: commee oooonnn guyyyy...walk with meee.

-->Meanwhile, Cracksketch has smelled our joint, and comes over:

Crack: YO YOU GOT WWWWEEEEDDD???!!

Rob, who has the joint: uh...no.

Crackhead; yeah yeah you do...GIMMEE THAT.

HE GRABS the joint from rob, which was only really a big roach to begin with, and puts it in his mouth and takes a HUGE drag...from the lit side.

He kinda yelps and as he spits it out, I can see he's burned his lips pretty badly, he's bleeding and spits the hot ashes into his hand, which are now burning his hand, but he's whining and bleeding and....ugh, it was sick.

Meanwhile, Carsketch has cornered Weez and Rollie, STILL screaming about Cash Money, and we realize there's gonna be trouble. So we roll up to him and kinda show our power in numbers without really saying much, and Gareth (who, praise jebus, was driving us to another show) flicks his lighter to get the attention of a cop car sitting up the street...the cop drives up, and the bleeding, whimpering cracksketch yells "COPS" and literally BOLTS up the street...leaving 5 of us and one of carsketch, still trying to yell at Weez, and now Gareth about "CASH MONEY. LIL'WAYNE OWES ME CASHHHH MONEEEYYYY"...

the cop gets out, drags him to the sidewalk, we jump in the car, lock the doors, and speed off. About a block away, when we all can breathe again, we BURST out laughing.

Fucking Toronto. this place breeds wackness.

Without going into too many details, we ended up at The Opera House for the Def Jux show - Aesop Rock, Mr. Lif & El-P OWNED. Nuff said.

Vancouver, tomorrow. Excited, completely.

quickly.

7 things:


1)I got hype. Weird.

2) Mike Relm might be the best working DJ on earth. He is reinventing the turntable, one track at a time. Amazing.

3) Holy Fuck & Shout Out Out Out Out were both stunning. Toronto ate SO4 up. Holy Fuck ate me up.

4) Toronto gets weirder and weirder. Dave Navarro walked by me this morning. He's like, 4'6". No shit.

5) I love Connor Morris right back.

6) I saw Tony Wilson speak this afternoon. A true genius.

7) I'm hungover. I blame it for my inspiration to post this:


I love you all.

copy copy copy copy copy copy copy copy

Toronto is full of fakes and copycats.



-----


I wrote that line hours ago when I first got into my hotel.

It's much, much later now.
I thought it was 5:17AM. That’s what the clock in my hotel room says.
But now that I’ve turned on my computer, it says it’s only 4:22. Somehow I feel relieved.

I’m AWAKE. 2 Extra strength Tylenol daytime. Large double double. Some crap Red Bull copycat. Add excitement, 5 beers, and an uh, outdoor excursion, and I am sitting 12 stories above Toronto with a snoring dave beside me as I type this in the dark. Today was weird.

But lets start at the beginning.
Toronto is full of fakes and copycats.

I got here by train, which was exciting…kinda. I met a really interesting woman on the way – a PhD nursing student who works with kids with cancer. Somehow my ‘making money from art’ job doesn’t feel so earnest anymore. She was nice. I took the metro to Keith & Richards’ apt on St.Patrick Street,,.I had planned this mini-blog-tribute to those 2, but I won’t unleash the sap on you; I’ll just say that the sight of two people deep in love is a truly beautiful thing. Great, I just made myself throw up a little.

But srsly, I had an amazing 2 days with the amazing power duo; caught up with Keith both days for long walks and good talks. (lookit me, I’m a rapper. Or NOT A RAPPER, as the case may be.) …but it was on said walks that I came up with my observation about fakes and copycats.

As I bustled about today in and out of stores, restaurants, hotels, pedways & cabs, I realized just HOW Rat-Race Toronto is.. Rats eating rats in the race to the top (or bottom).Everyone is biting at the tail of the guy in front of them, trying desperately to move ahead, forward, UP. Those that reject this do so with such flair, that in the McDonalds washroom on Yonge the same guy asked me for change, then turned around and sold meth to a woman who walked in. All while I was trying to take a piss. People asleep in the middle of the sidewalk is not uncommon. The visible poor in this city sadden me…I can’t tell if it’s the (capital-c) City that’s failed them, or with (lower-case c) city – the FUNCTIONAL urban environment that ‘we’ share.

I’ve been here two days and the pretension is killing me. This town seems like it’s desperately clinging to a diminishing sense of cool…tired of DEFINING it, TRYING to BE it for Canada…don’t get me wrong, there are MANY MANY talented, fantastic, creative, intelligent people from, living in, and/or working in Toronto…but man…everybody wants to be YOU. The hair, the shoes, the bands. “get it right, get it right”, they say. And they get it wrong.


I’m glad I got here early to settle into the city a bit before the conference. Toronto is fucking WACK. I had a view filtered by good taste and experience, as K and I walked, he basically pointed out the good and steered me away from bad…but today, on my own and at the events I went to this evening, I’ve decided, as aforementioned, that this place is full of fakes and copycats. I may not have told you that I’m here on work, attending Canadian Music Week – basically an industry conference, centered around a 3-night, 300-band showcase mania. It means booze, record/mangement/agency deals, live music out the fucking wazoo and more booze. All of this, through the fine art of Schmoozing.

I’m fucking BAD at schmoozing. But tonight, with my gameface on strong, I went to the Canadian Indie Awards, which SHOULD have been fucking cool, but really came off as a 1/2assed effort at showcasing CBC-Approved music, just the next in line to be repackaged and sent south as ‘cultural export’.

Don’t get me wrong, as someone in the industry I understand the value of that designation – our artists RELY on it…but a gig where 2500 PAID to see 5 unrelated bands ( hip hop, metal, baaad rock, ok twangness) play one song each, just to sit through two more crappy openers playing longer sets and THEN the headliner, Stars…makes me feel like they’re not even disguising the fact that it’s being SHOVED down your throat.


But I digress.

This conference is going to allow me to put faces to names and voices I’ve dealt with for years…for the first time. I’ll likely make connections that I’ll have for the rest of my career, if not my life. God, when did I turn into such a drama queen?

(I can imagine all my close friends are saying “fuck eli, you ARE a drama queen”)

Either way, color me stoked. In the next three days I’m going to 12 sessions, 8 shows, and seeing over 20 bands. Like:
Shout Out Out Out Out W/Holy Fuck & Mike Relm


MSTRKRFT w/Tricky Woo


Aesop Rock w/Mr. Lif, Cage, El-P, among others…

Nuts. Nuts nuts nuts. I’m gonna lose my head.

Vancouver on Sunday. Coasties, you ready for me?

Fuck, it’s late.
I have to be up in three and 1/2 hours. I’m hearing the first buses, the first traffic spring to life on the street below.