What did you listen to this summer? Without thinking about it, each summer Susan and I usually home in on a couple of particular albums that enjoy heavy rotation to soundtrack our sunny days, but this year, as summer came and went so quickly, that didn't happen for reasons only the ether can reveal. I have been enjoying certain worlds of sound, however: late 60s garage rock (The Seeds, The Sonics etc.), psychedelic/"sunshine" soul (5th Dimension, The Temptations et al), anything from 50s (lots of crooners and cheesy listening) and, oddly, French pop of the late 60s. (As I've just celebrated one year as a Canadian citizen, I guess I've been subconciously embracing my inner Quebecois.)
In addition to these selections, one musician has loomed large: David Byrne. The older I get the more fascinated I become with this man and his music. While I frequently rediscover artists and bands in a big way, it has been some time since I (re)immersed myself in the work of a particular individual like I have this summer with Byrne. I have listened to all the Talking Heads albums on scores of occasions, yet this year seem to be discovering hitherto unnoticed nuances and sonic treats that lurk therein. "Remain in Light," my current obsession and probable overall favourite, is so dense, complex and utterly dazzling in terms of composition that I am finding it an almost overwhelming listen these days. It is so rhythmically intoxicating and melodically euphoric that it moves me to tears as I dance. Seriously. It's pretty much perfect music to these ears. Then, in terms of simplicity, the devastating little guitar solo on "Mind," from the incredible "Fear of Music," just destroys me. What a band this was.
I could go on and on about Talking Heads songs, or even little moments within them, for pages and pages, but you'll understand this if you're a fan. If you're not, or simply haven't heard much, please get out there and do so. There are only eight Talking Heads studio albums, and five of them of bona fide masterpieces. Then, of course, there is the small matter of "Stop Making Sense," arguably one of the greatest documents of live performance, by any band, ever committed to wax and celluloid. Dive right in.
As well as being one of the most inventive musicians and songwriters ever to walk the earth, Byrne is also a great writer. I'm currently reading his superb book, "Bicycle Diaries," a travelogue examining various world cities through the eyes of an avid cyclist, which he is. From his extensive travel experiences Byrne looks at such as Berlin and Istanbul from many persepectives, making it a fascinating and compelling read. The depth and colour of his writing just adds to my growing admiration for the man, so I'd best reel that in right now lest I pass out from over-fawning.
I only ever saw Talking Heads play live once, at Birmingham Odeon, in England, on the 1979 "Fear of Music" tour. It was extraordinary. In 2012, I may have the opportunity to see Byrne play again. He's appearing with St. Vincent at the Chan Centre for the Performing Arts, at UBC in Vancouver, on October 20, as part of their collaborative "Love This Giant" tour. If the invitation we've received from an associate comes to fruition, you can colour me the most excited I've been for a show in just about forever. Take a look at their performance of the Talking Heads classic "Burning Down the House" in the video above, filmed from the audience in Minneapolis on the first night of the tour, and you may be able to see why!
It might be over two years old, but until last night (as a DVD bonus feature of the awesome Werner Herzog/David Lynch collaboration, My Son, My Son What Have Ye Done), I had not seen this beautiful short film before. It stirred up a wide range of emotions in me, as it surely also will in you.
Ever have those days when, no matter how hard you try (which in itself could be the root of the problem), you either are, or feel, totally out of step with the world? When, regardless of how normally nimble, slinky, or fleet of foot you may be (and none of which I ever am), you become temporarily lummox-like in extremis? Yes, of course you have, so I hope you will sympathize that I just had one of "those" weekends.
On Friday night, when carrying our kitten Reggie from my office, I somehow managed to inexplicably walk into the corner of a wall, bashing my left forearm so hard it made me cry out.
On Saturday, we attended the Filberg Festival in Comox, where within minutes of arrival, simply by turning around after taking a photograph, I managed to trash a jewellery display when stumbling into it. Fortunately, it was a simple set-up of an easel holding the vendor's sign, with a few choice pieces draped about it, but my demolition job still caused a degree of mirth among observers, and a red face for me and my exasperated wife.
A short time after the near destruction of the jeweller's stall, I'd just glugged down a much-needed cold lime drink when the plastic 32-ounce cup that had held it, and its lid, conspired against me, the cup plummeting to the table, sending a ton of ice cubes scattering all over the place. Cue second flushed face of the day, especially having involuntarily shouted, "Oh, bollocks!"
Somehow we got home without further mishap, but later that night I scared myself half to death when thinking there was a large, shiny, black beetle crawling across the living room floor from somewhere near my feet. But, no, it was not a beetle. It was in fact the top of the wiggly-worm-on-a-stick cat toy that I was holding and waving about to amuse Reggie. It appears from this episode that I may have a problem with my nerves, but then after the catalogue of idiocy that preceded it, that should come as no surprise. Then, last night, after a remarkably incident-free day, how I managed to shut my head in the coat cupboard door is anybody's guess. But shut my head in the coat cupboard door, doing my very best to crush my right eye socket, is exactly what I did. A bruise rose up immediately, competing with my loud resigned sighs for attention.
Really, I should have stayed in bed from Friday to Sunday. But I guess had I done so I'd have probably fallen out and crashed right through the floor into the bedroom of our neighbours below, or something equally ludicrous.
Just moments ago I read a "breaking news" headline on the BBC website and feel compelled to share it with (all twelve of) you:
"APPLE'S $8.8bn PROFITS DISAPPOINT"
The opening line of the story reads:
"Apple made a net profit of $8.8bn in the three months ending in June, up 21% from a year earlier but lower than forecasts."
So, are you, like me, utterly heartbroken at Apple's declining fortunes? After all, the company made only $8.8bn profit in three months, the poor things. What a terrible letdown. Shame on you, Apple, for making such a tiny profit.
Having generated a mere 21% increase on the same period last year, how in heaven's name can the company survive? How will they put food on the table, clothe themselves or send their kids to school? They're all doomed! Oh my God, the sky is falling!!
Having spent several transfixed minutes watching an inchworm traverse our Mayne Island cabin picnic table on June 23, I just love this silly little clip of film. Could the original poster to YouTube have chosen any better music to accompany these images? I think not.
A few Black Flag tunes excepted I've never been a fan of much of his music, but I have a lot of time for Henry Rollins, the man. I can say hand on heart that since witnessing one of his extraordinary spoken word shows in Nanaimo in 2009 - at which he entertainingly spoke solidly for over three hours, taking just one sip of water after two - I have changed my way of thinking about topics he covered that evening. In a positive, productive way, that is, making tweaks to my life in how I regard, speak to and treat people. I am obviously not the first or last to be inspired by Rollins' street philosophy and punk ethics, but do genuinely draw great strength and inspiration from his worldview. As Gandhi said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world," and as a result of Rollins' philosophies I am trying to be just that, at least as best as I can.
This delightful short film nicely illustrates how Rollins is simply a man from a humble background who appreciates the value of opportunity and the platform he has worked hard to create in order to effect change. If you are somehow new to this great man, I feel confident you will really, really like him. If you like and understand him already, just enjoy.
While on the subject of punk rock, I simply must mention the astonishing Larry & His Flask. I've blogged about this fantastic punk-bluegrass outfit before, so won't go too deeply into it here, but after having seen them play for the second time last night, as part of the Victoria Ska Festival, I cannot let this blog posting pass without saying that, at all costs, go see a Larry & His Flask show at your earliest opportunity! There is just nothing to compare with the incendiary live show they present, and the sense of unity they create with their audience is as inspirational as the man in the film above. The photo you see here is one tiny moment from the incredible hour-long performance we were privileged to be party to last night ('party' being the operative word), and just under 24 hours later the adrenaline it whipped up is still pumping!
I am deeply saddened to have received the news this morning that legendary Brighton, UK, music store, Rounder Records, is going out of business. The store's press release reads thus:
It is with huge regret and sadness that we are closing down. We will shut our doors at 6pm on Sunday 29th July after 46 years of being a record shop in Brighton Square.
What we have always strived to do is stock the best range of music at the best prices for our customers; sadly, that is not enough for us to stay open.
We are closing because we can't make it add up any more. We are a business that has been decimated by downloads (both legal and illegal), VAT avoidance by the big online retailers, a double-dip recession and the decline of the high street. Our lease has ended and we have nowhere to go.
We would like to give heartfelt thanks to all our customers over the years, and hope we have managed to provide you with some special and great music throughout this time. That's why we have been here - as a place to obtain, hear, find out about and discuss all types of the weird and wonderful world of music; to be a social hub for a musical city; a place where future bands are born; where record labels are started; where local bands can stock their first release; where you can get tickets for gigs; where there's something playing on the shop stereo that might be your new favourite band. Sadly, in 2012, this is just not financially viable.
I worked at Rounder Records for seven fun-filled years, when the music industry was wonderfully unrecognizable from the wheezing, skeletal, sorry creature it is today; when the thought of music "lovers" storing their entire collection on something resembling a credit card was the stuff of science fiction; when lyric booklets were pored over and even the smell of the sleeves was obsessed over; when the value of the record store as the aforementioned social hub and catalyst for the creation of bands and record labels was immeasurable to the music community.
Goodness me, how times have changed. I for one view the terminal decline of bricks and mortar music (and books) retailing as a cultural apocalypse that Generation Z will recognize as such when it's too late. And when they cry, "Shit, what have we done?" I'll be one of the first to yell back, "Well, we told you so."
