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Wednesday, June 30, 2004
As a public service to the unwashed masses, I'm gonna detail, point by point, the pure awesomeness which is the upcoming long weekend.
Tonight after you're done with work, and the gym, and eating, head down to Jack Dawes pub, downtown on 10th ave. Scott & Sheri host their weekly open mic, which, by no surprize is turning into the best open mic the city has to offer this summer. The pub is a small room, and on Wednesday nights it's always packed with young, pretty, 20-something types... oh and 1 or 2 crazy, creepy, textbook case 40 year old alcoholics. Either way, it's a good time, the beer's cheap, and - for once - you don't have to get up for work the day after. Things get underway at 9pm, get there early, because all kinds of people have already confirmed that they're coming down... it's gonna be packed hot.
The remainder of the weekend will be reserved for flying of the handle in vancouver. In a 3 day stretch which has been dubbed "super-uber-ultra-weekend" (hey, if you've got a better name for the weekend, send it in). Myself, carpet, bubbles, leo, doran and virgine, will be flying in to meet up with tk, nick, colin, special, SPF-15, rob2, johnny P, donna, and every other hipster in Kitsilano to get down on the good foot and pull off all kinds of capers. Hell, we're so serious about all the capers that we're really and actually wearing bright red capes, a la Superman, the entire time we gallivant around the city.
Would you really expect anything less from this crew??
Happy long weekend, feel free to send us text messages as the weekend unfolds in vancouver-a-mundo.
elsewhere
the most boring frontmen in rock | ivana santilli | july issue of cord
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Sunday, June 27, 2004
Hmmmm... we haven't done a tony pierce styled photo journal in ages, what up with that, son?! Either way, I've just whipped up a journal detailing the weekend as we wrecked shop all over the city. Hot damn, we were just doing our rock and roll duty, a la Kim Mitchell circa 1986.
As always with every photo journal, it's best viewed with a
1024 x 768 reception (you most likely have that), and a maximized web browser window. Now with no further a-do-do:
photo journal: 3 days in june [Go!]
elsewhere
more pics from june | elektronik supersonik | low culture
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Friday, June 25, 2004
This is all George Stroumboulopoulos' fault.
The other night I was watching Much, there was a special on about the grunge era, hosted by our boy GS. Yeah... the bulk of the hour was filled with clichés about the early 90's and the like. Despite this, George was in top form (ie: genuinely insightful) throughout, and his parting comment was especially wonderful. George talked about the diversity of the music flowing out from the early 90's. He talked about how the music, in part, was so exciting because there was an onslaught of varied music coming from all over the world, and the listeners, not the labels, pushed the better artists to stardom.
One of the main ways listeners propelled artists was through the art of the mixtape. According to George, mixtapes were huge, and shared extensively (don't forget CD's and the internet was kinda rare and still quasi-cutting edge back then). George then argued that today’s music climate was now in a position to take on the same exciting diverse traits of the early 90's. He the presented a challenge to the viewer to not just get back into making mixtapes, but getting selfless about it. He challenged everyone watching to regularly make mixtapes and mix CD's, featuring the bands which they personally felt were vital and interesting, regardless of if they were obscure indie groups or glossy major label types. Most importantly, George challenged us to share and give away the mixtapes *to strangers*, as a way to spread the word. You know, just leave them lying around in a classroom or wherever, and see who picks them up, and see how they get passed on. Kinda like a pay it forward kinda thing, but the currency is sonic.
So what's a boy to do when he's presented with a challenge like that? We'll if you're me, you polish off a plate of nachos and a couple of domestic beers. But as soon as that's all done, you bring the vanmega mixtape series back from the dead just for one more time, and then compile and post a brand new mixtape, featuring the likes of Frou Frou, The Shins, The Killers, Franz Ferdinand, AC Newman, and RJD2... just to name a few.
Get your mixtape download on here, get into some new bands, then burn 2 copies of the latest vanmega mixtape... 1 for you, and 1 for a stranger. Then gloat for the rest of the day because you are totally and completely a righteous rock n' roller. Or something.
update
I challenge other bloggers to publish a mixtape. Do it up, you've got an audience, spread the word (or whatever). Get in touch with me and let me know when you step up and publish a mixtape. I'll cherish your mix and link your ass, like whoa.
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Thursday, June 24, 2004
The new Beastie Boys CD is not up to snuff. Not in the slightest. And this fact is gonna cause me to lose a whole lot of sleep. I’ve spent the last week repeatedly listening to and trying to convince myself that To The 5 Burroughs is a solid piece of work, but no matter how much I try... I can’t.
15 years ago, when Paul's Boutique came out, I knew nothing about what good music was (hey, I'd make mixtapes with Milli Vanilli and Public Enemy back to back), but I knew that this Beastie CD was nothing short of brilliant – 15 tracks constructed with countless and seamless samples, layered on top of each other with baroque mastery... oh whole heap of lyrical wizardry on top of all that. From then on, it was nothing but love for the boys. As the Beastie Boys style evolved and encompassed hip hop, punk, rock, dub, and electronic influences, each additional CD carved out a style unique to its predecessor. These guys were all over the map, and that was half of the boys brilliance. The other half of the brilliance came from the trio's ability to pass the mic and drop rhymes riddled with wit and statement, and then pass it off as something casual as a day off from work.
But on this new disk... I don't know... it's not working. The album is supposed to pay homage to (1) traditional hip hop, (2) a post 9/11 new york city and the politics which arose from it. I dare to say that the downfall of the new CD is that the Beastie's spent so much effort fixating on paying homage to all the above-mentioned, that they've killed all the little things that make them so fucking splendid. On Burroughs the beats sound cheap and generic, and the lyrics seem forced and uninspired. Meh.
And that's the thing that kills me the most! I know with certainty that this creative lull isn't needed nor permanent. Look at the Beastie’s in the picture above... these guys are 40 years old! They have gray hair! Yet, they're seasoned pro's, and with all the press and performances they've taken on to promote the new CD they've graced the masses with the same wit and charm that made their all the albums they’ve ever created - pre 5 Boroughs - instant classics. Don't believe me? Check out their performance at the MTV Movie awards... they dazzled and owned the crowd, and schooled every single MC in the auditorium.
Anyways, if you need me I'll be holding my breath until the Beastie Boys return to form on their next CD release... which I'm willing to bet will be in 6 years. Bitchin'.
elsewhere
I like, totally, sold out | behind paul's boutique | party down
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Wednesday, June 23, 2004
"It's funny, rock and roll is an English language art form. Just like opera should be sung in Italian, rock and roll sounds best in English. Europeans make rock and roll in their own languages, but they'll always come back to the greats, like Bob Dylan or The Beatles. So because of this they still assess pop on a very Anglo level. I get more pointed questions about my lyrical references in countries where they speak English as a second language. I think the thing is that they don't take it all for granted, and they really do search for what's going on in there. I'm always stunned by that, being in France and being asked pointed questions about this line or that line, and they don't even speak the language. But in some ways it's neat because they approach it almost more poetically, because to them the words are more like colours than they are literal figures."
Just incase you haven't browsed throught the electronic pages of Cord Magazine this week, I highy / totally / completely suggest you do so by clicking here. Master Andy has been busting her ass to publish fresh content for the site weekly. This week alone there are brand new interviews featuring the likes of The Killers, and Hawksley Workman (quoted above), plus more '10 questions' features, plus lots of new tracks on the streaming media player, plus a new contest / give-a-way / free stuff. Yup, we give until it hurts, and then give some more. We're hardcore like that.
Now stop surfing the web for articles on the Olsen Twins and thier sassy eating disorders, and dig into Cord some more - www.cordmag.com. You'll thank me later.
elsewhere
master andy | cord-a-mundo | cord-a-roy
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Tuesday, June 22, 2004
Things I consumed today:
- 2.5 liters of tap water
- a cardboard-esque protein bar
- 1 can of generic brand beef vegetable soup
- 45 drops of econichia (you try spelling it)
- 1 slurpee (75% cola, 25% cream soda)
- 1,500 mg of vitamin C
- windex (that was a mistake)
- 4 asprins
- 2 safeway brand sleeping pills
No one should get the flu on the day of the summer solstice, dammmmit.
elsewhere
catchdubs | rap snacks | 54 eupehmisms...
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Monday, June 21, 2004
I’m not a weatherman,
I’m not a meteorologist,
but I’m can say without doubt that Saturday was easily the hottest day of the year, so far. The sun blazed across every square inch of the city sky line, and in turn, the entire population collectively melted. Meaning, no one had the desire (let alone ability) to move with purpose or get anything done. Streets and patios were packed... everyone instinctively poured outdoors. Girls wore way less clothes, boys smiled a whole lot more, and I was reduced from dedicating my day to taking care of serious business (ie: trying to get someone to sell me some fucking contact lenses already), to giving 110% of my focus to soaking up the sun while I cruised around the city in my car with windows down and stereo up, perma-blasting my Franz Ferdinand CD chanting along as the FF boys screamed "this fire is outta control, gonna burn this city, burn this city". Or something to that effect. Either way, this was, unquestionably, blissful.
Once the Saturday sun began to set and the insane-o heat pretended to subside, we hit the Yardhouse for Geoff’s going away party. There are few things I realized about Geoff while at the party:
1. Geoff has a lot of friends, from a lot of different social circles.
2. Geoff has a digital camera strapped to his arm at all times.
3. Geoff will go around for the entire night with above-mentioned camera, and pose in pictures with every single person at a party. Especially with the ladies, he’ll take 3 or 4 pictures with each lady. Clearly, because Geoff is one of those forward thinking kinda homeboys, he’s taking all these pictures with the ladies to ensure his children know how much of a pimpin'-fresh ladies man he was, back in the day. Bless.
Either way, a sampling of the 150+ photos Geoff sent me from Saturday night can be viewed here. Have fun in DC, my boy.
elsewhere
gmail is too creepy | but, i have one more gmail invite up for grabs
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Thursday, June 17, 2004
Just like acid-wash jeans, the internet is a damned fad...
FYI, kids. My email account seems to be totally shot, and I can't figure out why for the life of me. Either way, nothing's hitting my inbox nor the vanmega feedback form. If you've tried to get a hold of me in the last 48 hours, I'm not playa hatin' snubbing you.
Update: Clearly, Bill Gates reads this blog, he took heed to my pointed words, and got my hotmail account fixed. It's business as usual, sing me some Kiss covers. Or something
Hotmail, you are the poo poo.
I've set up a gmail account as an interim solution. Guess what, gmail actually lives up to the hype. If they can somehow integrate gmail functionality with messenger and outlook, I'll never ever ever ever use a microsoft product again (with the exception of word, excel, powerpoint, access, paint, media player, internet explorer, and minesweeper).
Also, it appears I have an coveted gmail invite. If you want your own gmail account email me at [firstname].[lastname]@gmail.com, or cell page my ass. Tell me a funny story or something else entertaining and I'll hand you the invite. Apparently people are trying to buy these invites off on Ebay. Cripes. Everyone knows you should buy this piece of awsumness off Ebay instead.
Anyways, if you need me, I'll be styling my hair, stylishly.
elsewhere
music (for robots) | the new K-OS video | stream the new wilco cd
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Wednesday, June 16, 2004
While we're on the topic of subjectless subjects, I guess there are a few more quasi-pseudo-topics I should touch on. Well maybe not should touch on, but rather will touch on.
Of all the bands I’ve known, seen, or been a part of - be it a goofy jam-band or some hipster project – no one consistently entertains me like the boys from LeftNutt. With only a few weeks away their festival circuit debut at NevFest, LeftNutt has released their first music video... well not exactly a music video, but rather live footage from a random show. But here’s the thing - the footage is properly edited, shot from multiple angles, with reasonable sound. Yes, the song is crude and not the most witty number from their set list, yes they’re playing in the middle of a forest to a crowd of 50 people, and yes the temperature outside is zero degrees which mutes their stage presence and forces them to dress like Omar Stringer from Beaver Canoe was their stylist, but dammit, the kids just go out and play and don’t worry about posing and being perfect. This is what the rawk is all about. 99.37% of all bands forget this... sigh... I’m talking to you Simple Plan, yet again.
[download the LeftNutt video here – right click, save as]
My saga to get contact lenses continued this week. Today I paid an optometrist $15 for him to show up late to our appointment, only make a photocopy of my pre-existing prescription, and then tell me that my lenses would be available for pick up in the next week or two – dragging the total time spent trying to get a new pair of contacts to almost a month. Keep in mind if I wanted to buy a handgun, I’m sure I could have spent 6 minutes at a shady spot somewhere downtown and have been quickly on my way... and the hoodlum who sold me said handgun would not have charged me an asinine $15 sitting fee.
That song "The Reason" by Hoobastank is the biggest piece of shit ever recorded in the history of all things musical. The song is 4 minutes worth of over the top, textbook, lyrical clichés stringed together over a non-offensive generic 4 piece band. This song epitomizes EVERYTHING that's wrong with the music business today. I feel a massive social responsibility to travel across north america all summer and dive tackle anyone walking into a record store with intention of buying said Hoobastank CD (PS: That's the gayiest name for a band. Ever.), then I will caringly hug the person I just tackled to the ground, and then hand them a copy of the new Franz Ferdinand CD, and then tell them everything will be ok. Alternatively, I may just go to jail.
Dave Chappelle is 5 steps past funny. I order you to watch these video clips from the Chapelle Show, post haste. Dave Chapelle makes comedy look easy. Doran makes rapid vodka consumption easy. Potato, potatoe, etc
elsewhere
defamer | geoff's party flyer | my morning ritual
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Sunday, June 13, 2004
My inbox is full, my voicemail is pretty busy too, I'm trying to make plans, pack up my things, and find the time to do dorky stuff like secretly watch the sunset at 10:30pm every night.
Yet, for some reason I can’t think of anything to post about. And in lieu of not posting anything (which according to many of you is beyond sinful), I will instead point out and discuss a bunch of random things which have been bouncing around in my head as of late. It's like an episode Seinfeld, but without the white running shoes coupled with ill-fitting tapered jeans.
I have a theory that it would be easier to score crack rocks, than to get a new pair of contact lenses in this city. I spent 3.5 hours this weekend going around from optometrist to optometrist trying to get a new pair of contacts (as my old pair are old, torn, bordering on gross). With my arrival at each optometrist, I was confronted with a series of growing roadblocks, delays, fees. and regulations... all of which equated to me maybe being potentially honoured with the chance to purchase a new set of lenses sometime in late June. Nice work, science and regulation.
My first order of business when I perma-arrive in vancouver, is to see the movie Garden State. Fuck finding a place to stay, fuck stability, I want to see this movie. You have to realize... I don't ever really have any desire to any movie. It's not that I don't like movies, I just can't be bothered. Yet, this isn't the case with Garden State. I can figure out if the whole thing is gonna be a bunch of gen-x / indie rock clichés, or if it's gonna be beyond inspired. Either way I'm sure you’ll be forced to hear my hastily assembled thoughts on all this in 6 weeks.
I read the paper this weekend. WHY THE HELL IS REX MORGAN MD STILL HEADLINING THE COMICS PAGE?!?! Actually, forget that... who, back in the day, green-lighted this comic strip?!?! Who thought this was a valid form of entertainment?!? Actually, forget that... who now – today - actually tears through the paper to find the daily Rex Morgan MD comic strip?!? These said people are the root of all things evil in this world. Rex Morgan MD does not have the cure for the daily blues (everyone knows Penicillin does).
If there was a job where you could get paid to listen to Pete Yorn tunes [mp3], whilst wearing a jean jacket... well, that would be my dream job (assuming millionaire ninja lion tamer was taken)
Finally, I feel the need to remind everyone that this weekend is gonna be insane, to the max. Not only is it Geoff's going away party-a-poluza at the Yardhouse, Mr. Carpet is coming back from the field, he sent me the following text message only moments ago:
"I will be home either Tuesday or Thursday, depending on the [purple] rain. Once I return home, I will get drunk in a way and in the likes which none of you have ever seen before. Also, I am dragging you all along in this".
Be afraid joyous friends, be very afraid joyous.
elsewhere
andy collins has a new website | busted on black planet
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Friday, June 11, 2004
Cord Mag rocks your block off, as per usual...
Although I haven't obsessively gushed about Cord Magazine in the last couple of weeks, I feel it's high time I did.
Are you kidding me? Cord Mag is getting hotter by the second.
We're about to enter month 3 of operations, and with each new interview, each new feature, and each new day, we're going off the deep end.
In a good way.
We don't publish magazine issues, per say, (we just post content as it's produced) but I think we just put out the June issue. And holy hell, it rules. We've spent the last month interviewing and drinking with killer bands the likes of The Distillers (!), The Shins (!), Muse (!), and slightly more local and wonderful bands like Metric, Billy Talent, Rufus Wainwright, and Alexisonfire.
This is beyond fucking amazing. Like the first time you go to the wavepool, with waterwings on. We're on to something good here.
And you might as well get with the winning team, kids. Lock your office door and spend the next little while perusing the pages of Cord Mag. Point your web browsers to www.cordmag.com. Do it now.
(Also, at this point I will tip my hat to Master Andy, as she has been the driving force and artistic mastermind behind Cord, as I attempt to get my house in order. So kudos, and a bucket-load of kazaa to you, Andy. You are the wind beneith my wings, and so fourth, and so on.)
As always, feedback rules teh erf.
elsewhere
cord also has a blog | happy anniversary | matt is my jesus
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Thursday, June 10, 2004
Open microphoney...
If for some reason you've decided that this is the summer where you're going to stare at the wall of your living room ceiling every Wednesday night, I'd just like to point out that your priorities are all wrong.
Every Wednesday Sheri and Scott host an open mic at Jackdaws pub, downtown. And I assure you, it's well worth your time. How do I know? Well, between the 700 gigs I've played, and the 600 open mic's I've sat in on, I can assure you it's gold, regardless of which side of the mic you sit on.
Your hosts hold court in a tiny little room, which is wonderful, because it's always packed, and always busy, and eclectic. Hell, last week there was a clarinet player who got on stage... after that, a fucking barber shop quartet (I kid you not), who tore the roof off the mother. Even if you have no desire to step on stage, it's a wonderful little slice of pub life.
I've played for the last 3 - 4 weeks, with the hosts. I've decided since my time in this city is now soooooo limited (I really am counting down the milli-seconds until I pack my car, grind my clutch, and don't look back) that I've decided that I'm getting my shit together, and building a solo set list, just for the open mic, and nailing it... like I used to, complete with posturing, theatrics, and carrying on. Here are my new rules for me, jamming at the open jam:
- No more noodling, ever. I've got a bit of a nack for being able to sit in and play lead guitar at the drop of a hat. Some people like this, but I've decided that the lack of polish associated with doing this is wiggidy-wiggidy-wack (yup, kriss kross style). I'm not just getting on stage and backing whoever, however, whenever, up. Everything will be practiced, premeditated, calculated, and bordering on brilliant.
- The set list will be beyond bad-ass. And when I say bad-ass, I don't mean some semi-depressing set list of some folk-rock, shoe gazing, introversion. I mean a set list of songs which everyone can get behind, and are presented in a way that's compelling and require that you sing along, at the top of your lungs, with a pint glass in the air. Oh and yeah, I'll pepper the set with a couple of tracks which I've written (about skateboarding and getting dumped) and few songs that inspire (well, me at least) [mp3].
- I will actually start practicing again. Circa 1643 levels, night after night. Both the playing, and rapping, and singing. I'll live out the Brian Adams cliche and really play until my fingers bleed, and sing 'till I'm no longer mildly tone deaf.
- I will not go on stage until I've had 3 pints, and I will not go on until after 11:15pm. If I break these rules, I'll turn into a pumpkin. Or I'll freak out like a Gremlin, being fed after midnight.
- I will encourage insanity. Back in the day, Carpet used to rush on stage and play tambourine, or breakdance while wearing a cape. This collective stupidity *must* carry on. Management consultants call this "synergy", and bill $400 - $600 an hour.
Either way, Sheri and Scott are killing as hosts. And for that I congratulate them. The night is a sight to see and take in, you should be there. So... uhhh.. go, yo.
elsewhere
wil farrell rules | tristan prettyman | adio <3 octodogs
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Wednesday, June 09, 2004
I don't believe in touchdowns...
I just (like in the last 2 days) really started listening to and falling in love with Yankee Hotel Foxtrot by those little alt-whatever darlings, Wilco. Yep, for what seems like years, all the hipsters across the universe have told me I must fall in love with this CD... now... but I just never did. I've always had a theory about music and, well, books too... the theory is this - music and books will never come to you until it's the right time. So I guess the right time for Wilco and me is now, 'cause I'm finally getting it. On my terms. This rules sofaking much. Huzza! Hurrah!
I think that I'm also finally getting the fact that the summer is here too. This is such a good thing, but maybe I'm not ready... 'cause there's this silly fear I have that once the summer starts, it's gonna quickly end... and well, that sucks to the max, because I spent far too many months knee-deep in the snow, waiting for right now. But summer's here, and the sun shines as bright and stays out as late as me. How do I know this? It's not because of what the weatherman tells me on the TV, it's not because I drive around town with my windows down and my high-school-cool car stereo on blast, letting the warm summer air stream across my dashboard. It's because every night of my week seems to be filled up with an event of some such sort, and in turn, I constantly feel like I'm getting a cold, because I'm burning the candle at both ends. I'm not complaining. In fact, I've been waiting for this all year.
So yeah.. this is my official invite for the summer to bring it. Bring it on, even. Give me all you've got... and a tan too. Kthanks. And in exchange I'll post the first batch of pictures from June 2004. Pictures featuring Me and Geoff's tear across the red mile on 17th avenue as the Calgary Flames did the Stanley cup thing. Oh, and pictures from DB's birthday-a-poluza. The gallery will grow, and the June nights will get longer. Sign me up, sell me out, pour me a wine spritzer. I'm ready to wear board shorts, full-time.
Photos, yo - June 2004
elsewhere
melting dolls | greatest. cover. ever. | 5 years ago, today
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Monday, June 07, 2004
Server goes up, server goes down...
I don't know spit about the internet, I think it's really just a fad, but I have a hell of a theory that the vanmega servers seem to freeze up and stop publishing whenever something big goes down in the real world.
In the last week, I've seen the sky fall and pigs fly... but in a good way. Because of the Flames actually going all the way to the Stanley Cup for the first time since 1862, it appears that the city has collectively taken a fistfull of prozack pills and washed it down with a pint of domestic beer. I've never seen a city so happy and with a such a sense of civic / community pride. I mean, there were rush hour style traffic jams on Saturday afternoon at 3pm, as the entire city tried to get to their bar or house party of choice. Except this traffic jam wasn't riddled with angst and frustration, everyone in ever car was smiling and cheering and carrying on... waving flags and offering face painting to passers by.
Oh and all the hijinks that go down on 17th ave / the red mile is completely living up to the hype. 35,000 people flooding on to one city street in the biggest display of happy hockey happiness really is a sight to see, and to be a part of. I hear there might be up to 100,000 people there tonight. Needless to say I'm swinging over to Geoff's apartment at 4pm tonight, putting us stumbling distance from the epicentre of the red mile. Boo-yaa. Boo-yaa, indeed.
Anyways, I have hundreds of pictures from the red mile, and Dave's birthday-a-poluza, and there will be more pics taken tonight. So I'll post them in one fell swoop tomorrow. Until then may I present to you: Fan Toss 2004... the video
download: Fan Toss 2004 [mpg, 1.25MB]
elsewhere
how you remind me of someday | white stripes b-sides
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