Tolstoy has a thought or two.
Increasingly I am coming to agree with him. Art is a way of connecting people through a common experience, through the participation in an event that elicits a specific emotional response. The better the art, the more lasting the impression.
I can't decide if I agree with him that the virtues of "high art" are negated by the fact that it isn't accessible to everyone. True, you need to know something about the art and the context in which it was produced to appreciate most of this type of art, but the profound statements (occasionally) made in the upper echelons of art-making cannot be simply ignored. An audience cannot be expected to be equally educated on all matters or else art would consist only of expressions of our most basic instincts, which don't tend to be particularly beautiful most of the time.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Virgin Festival lineup
In case you haven't heard it yet, check out the Virgin Festival lineup: INCREDIBLE!
The Pixies? NIN? Mutemath? Grizzly Bear? Um, yes please.
The Pixies? NIN? Mutemath? Grizzly Bear? Um, yes please.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Always Wear a Rubber
Location: The Fringe Club (292 Brunswick Ave.)
Date: 11/07/09
Rating: ***
This half-hour production ran as part of a showcase from the Paprika Festival, which is a free theatrical opportunity open to people under the age of 21. The actors seemed a deep shade of green in comparison to professionals like Eric Davis from Red Bastard. They struggled with their characters and had some trouble creating a convincing space on stage. However, they all managed to pass as their archetypal characters; one of the female leads played a shy do-gooder that was struggling with her faith as she came into her own sexuality. Hers was the one original story.
The issues addressed by the play, on the other hand, were very interesting. The classroom arranged on stage was a Christian "reform" class for kids with homosexual tendencies. The rubber in the title has nothing to do with condoms. It's actually referring to a practice used by some of these groups that has young people inducing punishment on themselves for having impure thoughts by snapping an elastic that they wear on their wrists. There was an interesting audience participation element, where audience members were invited to shout their orientations out in an exuberantly vulgar fashion, hammering home that sexual orientation - whatever you associate with - is nothing to be embarrassed about and that assumptions about orientation are ridiculous.
These issues are nothing new but the specific religious aspect and rubber band issue gave this the edge it needed to freshen up the debate. While lacking the actors to make this production a real success, it was nevertheless a thought-provoking 30 minutes.
Date: 11/07/09
Rating: ***
This half-hour production ran as part of a showcase from the Paprika Festival, which is a free theatrical opportunity open to people under the age of 21. The actors seemed a deep shade of green in comparison to professionals like Eric Davis from Red Bastard. They struggled with their characters and had some trouble creating a convincing space on stage. However, they all managed to pass as their archetypal characters; one of the female leads played a shy do-gooder that was struggling with her faith as she came into her own sexuality. Hers was the one original story.
The issues addressed by the play, on the other hand, were very interesting. The classroom arranged on stage was a Christian "reform" class for kids with homosexual tendencies. The rubber in the title has nothing to do with condoms. It's actually referring to a practice used by some of these groups that has young people inducing punishment on themselves for having impure thoughts by snapping an elastic that they wear on their wrists. There was an interesting audience participation element, where audience members were invited to shout their orientations out in an exuberantly vulgar fashion, hammering home that sexual orientation - whatever you associate with - is nothing to be embarrassed about and that assumptions about orientation are ridiculous.
These issues are nothing new but the specific religious aspect and rubber band issue gave this the edge it needed to freshen up the debate. While lacking the actors to make this production a real success, it was nevertheless a thought-provoking 30 minutes.
Holy Fuck at Harbourfront
Date: July 10th 2009
Location: Harbourfront Centre, Sirius Stage
Event: Beat, Breaks + Culture - Holy Fuck w/ Winter Gloves
God bless Holy Fuck and the controversy their name has created. After being caught up in the government-funding debate last year, having been cited by the government as an example of the kind of thing that Canadians shouldn't be supporting, the band was caught up in yet another scandal when their names were removed from posters advertising Calgary's Sled Island festival. I can't help but think that this is yet another Barenaked Ladies phenomenon and it brings up some great questions about the ethical implications of words. The MC at Friday's concert at Harbourfront stumbled when he went to announce the band as if he had just been handed the lineup as he was coming on stage. You'd think the MC for a show would remember the name of the headlining band; I hope they didn't pay him.
I digress. What we're here to talk about is music.
With Brian Borcherdt and Graham Walsh at the helm of a rats nest of cables and keys, (and what Wikipedia says is a 35 mm Film Synchronizer), this band's sound is nothing that can be reproduced. had them running across stage swapping gear, unplugging cables and even changing batteries between songs. You could tell the two were working hard up there, piling on effects in just the right order to bring out a tune's mind-blowing climax just as you thought it get get no higher. However, the complicated setup got them into a bit of trouble during the last (pre-encore) song, when Borcherdt had a hardware malfunction and spent the length of the song trying to sort it out but bassist Matt McQuaid and drummer Matt Schultz held it together and gave the crowd something to move to.
This little mishap was very revealing. What other band could just vamp for five minutes and create music that wouldn't result in booing and civil unrest? In their best songs, the whole thing seemed almost spontaneous, as if the band was just vamping on a set of changes that got going whenever they telepathically decided it was time. It also revealed how much this music relies on its rhythm section. The subconscious interplay between McQuaid and Schultz really held the whole thing together. Yet Holy Fuck shows depth in their music too, proving that their performance isn't just a well-rehearsed jam-session. This comes via some very effective and often very elaborate changes that the band members had to coordinate, including a tasteful number of coordinated stops (what academics would call stoptime) that really hit you in the face with the silence they created. It's no wonder the band won a CBC Radio 3 Bucky award for Best Live show and was shortlisted for the 2008 Polaris Music Prize. If you've never seen Holy Fuck play, I would suggest getting yourself to their next tour date in your area.
Openers Winter Gloves from Montreal deserves no small amount of praise for a fun, high-energy set. Unfortunately, they won't get it here. Check out the track "Party People" for a good sample.
Location: Harbourfront Centre, Sirius Stage
Event: Beat, Breaks + Culture - Holy Fuck w/ Winter Gloves
God bless Holy Fuck and the controversy their name has created. After being caught up in the government-funding debate last year, having been cited by the government as an example of the kind of thing that Canadians shouldn't be supporting, the band was caught up in yet another scandal when their names were removed from posters advertising Calgary's Sled Island festival. I can't help but think that this is yet another Barenaked Ladies phenomenon and it brings up some great questions about the ethical implications of words. The MC at Friday's concert at Harbourfront stumbled when he went to announce the band as if he had just been handed the lineup as he was coming on stage. You'd think the MC for a show would remember the name of the headlining band; I hope they didn't pay him.
I digress. What we're here to talk about is music.
With Brian Borcherdt and Graham Walsh at the helm of a rats nest of cables and keys, (and what Wikipedia says is a 35 mm Film Synchronizer), this band's sound is nothing that can be reproduced. had them running across stage swapping gear, unplugging cables and even changing batteries between songs. You could tell the two were working hard up there, piling on effects in just the right order to bring out a tune's mind-blowing climax just as you thought it get get no higher. However, the complicated setup got them into a bit of trouble during the last (pre-encore) song, when Borcherdt had a hardware malfunction and spent the length of the song trying to sort it out but bassist Matt McQuaid and drummer Matt Schultz held it together and gave the crowd something to move to.
This little mishap was very revealing. What other band could just vamp for five minutes and create music that wouldn't result in booing and civil unrest? In their best songs, the whole thing seemed almost spontaneous, as if the band was just vamping on a set of changes that got going whenever they telepathically decided it was time. It also revealed how much this music relies on its rhythm section. The subconscious interplay between McQuaid and Schultz really held the whole thing together. Yet Holy Fuck shows depth in their music too, proving that their performance isn't just a well-rehearsed jam-session. This comes via some very effective and often very elaborate changes that the band members had to coordinate, including a tasteful number of coordinated stops (what academics would call stoptime) that really hit you in the face with the silence they created. It's no wonder the band won a CBC Radio 3 Bucky award for Best Live show and was shortlisted for the 2008 Polaris Music Prize. If you've never seen Holy Fuck play, I would suggest getting yourself to their next tour date in your area.
Openers Winter Gloves from Montreal deserves no small amount of praise for a fun, high-energy set. Unfortunately, they won't get it here. Check out the track "Party People" for a good sample.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Red Bastard
Location: St. Vladimir's Theatre (620 Spadina Ave.)
Date: 09/07/09
Rating: **** (out of five)
From the moment Eric Davis's monstrous form emerged between the two back curtains, I knew this show would be unique. Imagine a cartoon imp, much like one from the Disney rendition of Hercules, enlarge it to life-size and paint it a devilish shade of red. Or imagine a morbidly obese woman with hips that span a doorway and a gut you could live off of for a month and balance her on a skinny man's legs. Now imbue either of these characters with the mobility of a male ballet dancer and you have Red Bastard.
Dressed in a gigantic leotard stuffed with what I can only speculate are balloons, Davis's costume creates an absurd, surreal vehicle for bizaare and erratic movements that toy with perception and draw laughs out of sheer absurdity. But the costume could not have been complete without Davis's technical brilliance. While the costume itself possessed a large amount of physical potential, Davis's spring-like agility utilized it to its full extent, compressing himself to his smallest form then jumping out and revealing the full extent of his bulbous body in impossible positions - in a star formation balanced on one foot or hurtling through the air four feet off the stage - only to return once more to his compressed form.
Physical theatrics aside, Davis demonstrated an agility of tongue that would challenge any improv pro, seamlessly incorporating audience reactions and responses into the show and interacting with audience members in ways few could likely convince close friends to do. "Sing into my mouth," he said at one point to an innocent female audience member, standing with his face inches from hers and his mouth as wide as it could get. "Not near my mouth, in it!" he yelled. And if you're looking to doze off in the back, I'd pick another show: the woman in the furthest corner of the room received plenty of attention.
The only parts of the show that seemed to flop were some of the monologues. In an attempt to introduce some more weighty content to the show, heavy political issues were introduced near the end, including something about the American Constitution and a few racial jokes thrown in for good measure. In a show made out to be about nothing but a good old-fashioned laugh, these seemed like strange anomalies. However, in a show that tossed the audience around, the sudden change of pace didn't seem completely out of place.
For an hour of surprises and some heart-felt laughs, definitely come see this show. Closing night is Saturday July 11th at 7:00 pm. www.redbastard.com
Date: 09/07/09
Rating: **** (out of five)
From the moment Eric Davis's monstrous form emerged between the two back curtains, I knew this show would be unique. Imagine a cartoon imp, much like one from the Disney rendition of Hercules, enlarge it to life-size and paint it a devilish shade of red. Or imagine a morbidly obese woman with hips that span a doorway and a gut you could live off of for a month and balance her on a skinny man's legs. Now imbue either of these characters with the mobility of a male ballet dancer and you have Red Bastard.
Dressed in a gigantic leotard stuffed with what I can only speculate are balloons, Davis's costume creates an absurd, surreal vehicle for bizaare and erratic movements that toy with perception and draw laughs out of sheer absurdity. But the costume could not have been complete without Davis's technical brilliance. While the costume itself possessed a large amount of physical potential, Davis's spring-like agility utilized it to its full extent, compressing himself to his smallest form then jumping out and revealing the full extent of his bulbous body in impossible positions - in a star formation balanced on one foot or hurtling through the air four feet off the stage - only to return once more to his compressed form.
Physical theatrics aside, Davis demonstrated an agility of tongue that would challenge any improv pro, seamlessly incorporating audience reactions and responses into the show and interacting with audience members in ways few could likely convince close friends to do. "Sing into my mouth," he said at one point to an innocent female audience member, standing with his face inches from hers and his mouth as wide as it could get. "Not near my mouth, in it!" he yelled. And if you're looking to doze off in the back, I'd pick another show: the woman in the furthest corner of the room received plenty of attention.
The only parts of the show that seemed to flop were some of the monologues. In an attempt to introduce some more weighty content to the show, heavy political issues were introduced near the end, including something about the American Constitution and a few racial jokes thrown in for good measure. In a show made out to be about nothing but a good old-fashioned laugh, these seemed like strange anomalies. However, in a show that tossed the audience around, the sudden change of pace didn't seem completely out of place.
For an hour of surprises and some heart-felt laughs, definitely come see this show. Closing night is Saturday July 11th at 7:00 pm. www.redbastard.com
The Curse of the BMus
Wrote this for an audition piece for the site The Lemon Life. Many have heard similar rants from me.
The question “What are you up to these days?” always comes at me in a terrifying, fashion, flying through the air and stabbing me in the duodenum. It’s like the opening line of a play I have seen a hundred times against my will. One question leads to another and eventually, the ugly truth emerges: I hold an Honors Bachelor of Music degree.
When you tell people you studied music in university you get a very unique sort of look in response. It’s a look that asks a thousand questions all at once. At first, it’s a blank, often open-mouthed stare that asks: Did he say “music”? What the heck is he talking about? I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing. What is there to study about music that could take four years? More importantly, what kind of job does a music degree get you? Is it rude to ask that last question out loud? If this is a new acquaintance, the look mutates slightly as the grey matter ponders: What kind of a person studies music at University? And why am I talking to this person? As time passes – seconds of arresting awkwardness – the eyes take on a distant look and begin to blink rapidly as social etiquette ingrained into the subconscious of the polite forces the corners of the lips upward in a look that lands somewhere between anger and pain. Then, some other synapses fire and a painful, “OOHhhhh” emerges from still-parted lips. Those more familiar – friends, family, pets, etc.- simply smile knowingly: you’ve been “The Lost One” for some time now anyway.
I can’t say I’ve never been tempted to feign harbouring secret aspirations to become a doctor or an engineer – life would be so much easier! People understand (or think they understand) what these careers contribute to society. Deep down, I’m pretty sure most people think artists are selfish freeloaders, that we’re just too stubborn to get a real job. The rest probably think we’ll grow out of this “artist” phase and eventually go to teacher’s college like everyone else.
Studying any form of art at a university level, one comes to terms with this reality or one drops out and goes to college. No, studying music at university did not teach me how to build a house, cook, design a car or a bridge, project the flight path of an asteroid heading toward Earth, or any number of other tangibly useful skills that contribute to some traditional concept of economic or scientific progress. Don’t get me wrong; I honed skills: I learned how to play piano, how to write a paper, how to listen to music, how to write and orchestrate music. But more importantly, I feel prepared to answer the question, “Why?” Why build a house or learn to cook, or care about science or economics? In essence, why bother living at all? I would venture a guess that this is a universal question and although I don’t claim to have a universal answer, I have one that might interest people. In fact, I think the core of every artist’s work is their answer to this question. And for whatever reason – call it arrogance or stupidity – artists feel compelled to spread the word.
Whatever your idea of progress may be, sharing ideas is involved. Perspective is involved. If art is anything, it is a way of exchanging ideas about life. Music is non-representational – it doesn’t correspond directly to everyday experiences – but somehow it says something about life that words or pictures cannot. So the next time someone tells you they studied music, don’t stand there bewildered; ask them about the meaning of life. I would be willing to bet that they’ll say, “I don’t know. But here’s what I think…”
The question “What are you up to these days?” always comes at me in a terrifying, fashion, flying through the air and stabbing me in the duodenum. It’s like the opening line of a play I have seen a hundred times against my will. One question leads to another and eventually, the ugly truth emerges: I hold an Honors Bachelor of Music degree.
When you tell people you studied music in university you get a very unique sort of look in response. It’s a look that asks a thousand questions all at once. At first, it’s a blank, often open-mouthed stare that asks: Did he say “music”? What the heck is he talking about? I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing. What is there to study about music that could take four years? More importantly, what kind of job does a music degree get you? Is it rude to ask that last question out loud? If this is a new acquaintance, the look mutates slightly as the grey matter ponders: What kind of a person studies music at University? And why am I talking to this person? As time passes – seconds of arresting awkwardness – the eyes take on a distant look and begin to blink rapidly as social etiquette ingrained into the subconscious of the polite forces the corners of the lips upward in a look that lands somewhere between anger and pain. Then, some other synapses fire and a painful, “OOHhhhh” emerges from still-parted lips. Those more familiar – friends, family, pets, etc.- simply smile knowingly: you’ve been “The Lost One” for some time now anyway.
I can’t say I’ve never been tempted to feign harbouring secret aspirations to become a doctor or an engineer – life would be so much easier! People understand (or think they understand) what these careers contribute to society. Deep down, I’m pretty sure most people think artists are selfish freeloaders, that we’re just too stubborn to get a real job. The rest probably think we’ll grow out of this “artist” phase and eventually go to teacher’s college like everyone else.
Studying any form of art at a university level, one comes to terms with this reality or one drops out and goes to college. No, studying music at university did not teach me how to build a house, cook, design a car or a bridge, project the flight path of an asteroid heading toward Earth, or any number of other tangibly useful skills that contribute to some traditional concept of economic or scientific progress. Don’t get me wrong; I honed skills: I learned how to play piano, how to write a paper, how to listen to music, how to write and orchestrate music. But more importantly, I feel prepared to answer the question, “Why?” Why build a house or learn to cook, or care about science or economics? In essence, why bother living at all? I would venture a guess that this is a universal question and although I don’t claim to have a universal answer, I have one that might interest people. In fact, I think the core of every artist’s work is their answer to this question. And for whatever reason – call it arrogance or stupidity – artists feel compelled to spread the word.
Whatever your idea of progress may be, sharing ideas is involved. Perspective is involved. If art is anything, it is a way of exchanging ideas about life. Music is non-representational – it doesn’t correspond directly to everyday experiences – but somehow it says something about life that words or pictures cannot. So the next time someone tells you they studied music, don’t stand there bewildered; ask them about the meaning of life. I would be willing to bet that they’ll say, “I don’t know. But here’s what I think…”
Saturday, July 4, 2009
The Big...Pear?
I'm back online after a move to Toronto. Internet took a while to get sorted out.
The city workers in Toronto continue to strike. I'm of two minds: 1) Good for you for not letting those sleazy politicians give themselves a raise while taking stuff away from you. 2) Come to terms with reality. No corporation can afford to let employees bank sick days in a recession (or ever, really). If the only reason you're doing your job is for the benefits, you need a new life philosophy and the City of Toronto needs a new set of workers willing to work hard for a living towards a better Toronto. The whole is what we're looking to improve here, not the quality of your measly existence.
Judging by how much I had to say about each, I guess I'm more #2 than I am #1.
Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes.
The city workers in Toronto continue to strike. I'm of two minds: 1) Good for you for not letting those sleazy politicians give themselves a raise while taking stuff away from you. 2) Come to terms with reality. No corporation can afford to let employees bank sick days in a recession (or ever, really). If the only reason you're doing your job is for the benefits, you need a new life philosophy and the City of Toronto needs a new set of workers willing to work hard for a living towards a better Toronto. The whole is what we're looking to improve here, not the quality of your measly existence.
Judging by how much I had to say about each, I guess I'm more #2 than I am #1.
Thanks to everyone for the birthday wishes.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Most Serene's latest album "...And the ever expanding universe" comes out soon. New video is out too. I have no idea what it's about.
(link to Heavens to Purgatory mp3)
Enjoy.
(link to Heavens to Purgatory mp3)
Enjoy.
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