What You Love Begets What You Love

My roommate has a great philosophy of home decorating: If you love everything in a room, it will all go together just because you love it all. And it works! It works for lots of reasons that I could pick apart and logic-ize, but I choose to focus on the less tangible reason for its utter success: Things you love love to be around other things you love. And not just in your abode, in life in general.

There are many things I adore. Not all things (though I realize it might seem that way after reading all these blogposts ;o) but there are certainly a few faithful go-to things which stay with me, which offer me solace and comfort and joy, things which define me. The colour turquoise, murder mysteries, existential artwork, beards, music, mapping (oh mapping…)- I could go on listing them off, but that would be a whole post in and of itself! The important bit is that many, if not most, of the things I adore have very little in common outside of the fact that I love them. Usually.

Every once in a while (or more often if I’m really paying attention) several of the things intersect, creating a fairly magical and incredibly satisfying moment of collusion. A moment when you can just feel one of those invisible puzzle pieces click into place. When the universe seems to be saying ‘Yeah, I know you exist, you thought I forgot about you but you were wrong!”

Sometimes its easily explained away- maybe you forgot that thing one was the original inspiration for your interest in thing two, maybe they both came from thing three, some long-lost original connection (maybe you saw a roller derby movie and wanted to go to roller derby and then just happened to be in a certain place at a certain time when there was an awesome roller derby double header happening)... But sometimes its two things that exist in different spheres, that came from different original universes who just suddenly decided to get together for a little party, just for you.

I recently started listening to Collider by Sam Roberts Band (there is a whole sidebar here about listening to a CD vs listening to a CD, but I’ll save that for another time- suffice it to say that the italicized version is more… involved ).  As often happens, the realization of which song was my favourite arrived via unending-in-head-singing (complete with skipped verses, messed up lyrics, and stuck-in-a-loop guitar solos). This usually also means that I have no idea of the title of said song  (despite spending days and days with it) and eventually results in the inevitable ‘Oh thats what its called!”

So I had that experience with this one- stuck in my head on repeat, driving my roommate crazy with my incessant whistling, keeping myself up at night until finally it was playing on the computer and I happened to glance at the ‘track playing’ bar.

Without a Map.

Now maybe I subconsciously knew there was some reference to mapping in the song (despite completely falsely singing any such references prior to my discovery of the title of the song), maybe I just like songs about maps because I love mapping, but I choose to believe that its just one of those things.

Nice one universe.

 

 

Participatory Rock

Elliot Brood. Seriously. So Good.

They make banjo sexy.  Mark Sasso? Sexy. Combine now-time rock with oldey-time sound. And lets not even talk about the experience of closing your eyes and seeing tumble weeds roll by a saloon full of bandits and bathtub whiskey, poker games and a player piano... Lets talk about audience participation.

You go to a concert and you expect people to sing along, you expect people to dance, and jump around and rush the stage (okay maybe not that last one, but as with a surprising number of shows I've been to a few overly enthusiastic souls jumped up on stage and ran around in gleeful delight, much to the entertainment of the boys in the band...). All of those things are excellent, all of those things are what I love about concerts, but Elliot Brood takes it a step further: they pass out pots and pans and wooden spoons. And you hit them. You hit them in time to the music. You hit them hard, and loud, and with great amounts of enthusiasm. And it is awesome.

Now I admit I can get a little overly enthusiastic, but give me a pan and a wooden spoon and Elliot Brood and you are putting your life in your hands. I almost hit my sister in the face, and my spoon flew out of my hand on at least two occasions. My once-flat pan turned into a now-rounded bowl. My sock-feet got full of splinters and my ears were ringing with wood-on-metal and banjos and drums and foot-petal bass... So. Much. Fun.

I love Elliot Brood's music, I love their enthusiasm, and their unconventional sexiness, and their ability to time-travel, but most of all I love how I feel when I listen to their music; like I'm a part of it. Like its all around me. Like I'm home.

Also like I'm five years old and playing drums on the patio furniture with a paddle I found in the shed. Rock on.

The Live-Music Experience

I feel like those who say that live music is not worthwhile have just never been to the right kind of concert… Because there are bad ones- concerts I mean- there are those at which the musicians just don’t seem to want to be there, those where the audience is too cool to sing along, and those which, worst of all, have so little substance that even the most adamant fan of live music feels had….

But then there are the right concerts. The ones where everyone is bopping with all of their heart(s). Where you become temporary-best-friends with the dude beside you because you both got super excited about the same song. Where the guy with the guitar stomps around stage shaking his head to the music, not because he thinks it looks cool (which is good, because it looks like pretty much the antithesis of cool), but because he is having such a good time that he just can’t help it. Someone who has never been to one of these concerts, someone who has never had this kind of experience, how can we expect them to understand? And how can we not do everything in our power to help them have said wonderful, magical, ‘right concert’ experience?

Actually, I should pause here and mention that the difficulty with this is that these ‘right’ concerts are not the same concerts for everyone. Therein lies the rub. For one person their ‘right’ concert might be Goldfinger at a giant outdoor festival complete with a mosh pit full of people with safety-pins through their faces.  For someone else it might be Sarah Slean in a little tiny pub where people sit on the floor because there aren’t enough chairs. Heck, one person could count both of those experiences as the right kind of concert for them (I should know, those were two of my favourite concerts ever…)! Its difficult to pinpoint what makes a concert ‘right’ but over the years I have come to believe that they all have the flowing things in common:

1) Enthusiasm! From the audience and from the performers. Of course enthusiasm on both parts is the best case scenario, but a not-so-great band can get energy from an awesome audience and end up having a killer show, as can a so-so audience take their cue from an amazingly into-it band and turn into the most participatory group of people ever… Some bands may be known for being energetic and enthusiastic on stage- but audiences can also have a rep! Which bring us to-

2) Venue! Certain places have reputations for having great audiences, and certain others have the knack for attracting kill-joys. Anywhere where the audience regularly seems to be more interested in what they look like than the music onstage is to be avoided at all costs.  My absolute, bar none, favourite venue is The Kee, in Bala. Its in the middle of cottage country so everyone is relaxed and chill. Concert-goers arrive dressed in sweatpants and flip flops, their skin rosy with sunburn and hair in the laziest wind-styled do. Plus it’s a boathouse. The whole place is over the water, so when everyone gets a rockin’ the walls and floor rock right along with you. Too awesome.

3) Familiarity! This one is not so hard and fast, but knowing most or at least some of the songs is almost always important to your concert-going experience. Study-up! Listen to the CD a few times in the weeks approaching the performance. Have your friend put some of the band’s stuff on your ipod. Being familiar with the music always makes the experience more enjoyable… Having said that, one of the most captivating concerts I ever went to was the first time I saw Arcade Fire. I had never heard of them (nor had anyone else at the time. It was early days- pre-Funeral- they were still selling their EP in plastic envelopes with a hand-printed placemat as the liner notes…), and I didn’t know any of their songs. But by the end of the second number I was dancing and singing along (albeit just making vague tuneful noises rather than actual words), absolutely captivated by their performance. A band can definitely sweep you off your feet without you knowing any of their music- Its just more likely to happen if you go into it with a few lyrics in your back pocket!

4) Good Company! Pick your concert-going partners wisely my friends… Don’t choose someone who only listens to Eminem if you’re going to see Elliot Brood. Contrary-wise a Cuff The Duke fan might not be the right person with whom to attend a Less Than Jake soirée… Try to find someone who is as enthusiastic about the band you’re about to see as you are. This goes both ways- going to a concert with a super-fan when you only kind of like the band is not any more fun than going to see your favourite group with someone who only likes their latest single… If its an obscure band or you just don’t know anyone who knows who they are, think about who they remind you of- who do you know who likes similar sounding bands? Maybe they’ll end up with a new favourite artist! Finally, as a last resort, ask someone who finds your love of the applicable band to be entertaining (note: finds it entertaining, not annoying, stupid or embarrassing!)- who will enjoy poking fun at you all night (as you are busy singing your heart out) and who will come away having had a good time without making you feel like too much of an idiot.

5) The Right Band! This is one of the most important yet most variable factors. What you need is a band (or performer!) who makes music that makes you feel something extremely muchly. Makes you feel super happy, or super creative, or super energetic, or super pumped… even super melancholia (Oh Decemberists, how your sea shanties make my heart weep…).  A reputation for being awesome live never hurts, and is possible regardless of genre (I have never known Arcade Fire, Sam Roberts, Elliot Brood, AC/DC, Paul McCartney, The Decemberists, or Great Big Sea, to disappoint!).  The right band makes for the right concert almost every time…

As a final thought, be open to any of these factors occurring out of the blue and you will find yourself having way more ‘right’ concert experiences. If you suddenly realize that you love a country-esque band, don’t shy away from going to see them just because you ‘don’t like country!’ Tastes change over time. Your perfect high school concert might totally beat-up your perfect university concert if they met in a bar, but it doesn’t mean you can’t love them both equally!

Spread the love, man. Spread the love.

 

PS i have recently discovered that Sam Roberts and Elliot Brood played a Labour Day show at the Kee last year (as in 2010) and I missed it. Luckily I was in Halifax at the time, so I had a real actual reason for not knowing about it, but come ON! that would have been my all time favourite concert ever. Seriously. EVER. Maybe its better that I didn't go as no other concert would have ever lived up to that one... yeah I'm goin' with that. ..

The Quiet Epicness of the In-Between

I get weird things stuck in my head. Okay, plain ol' songs = not so weird. But getting phrases stuck on repeat in my brain seems to be somewhat more unusual... It all started in grade five with 'Help I've fallen and I can't get up!' and has progressed from there. The latest? "Willie, Why did you give me campylobacter!?!" It just comes out of nowhere, and I start giggling to myself and everyone thinks I've gone bonkers... thank you John Green.

Hybridized-songs is another favourite category- I have one going on in there and it just morphs into another- then of course I can't hear either of those two songs without hearing my mash-up version instead. The other day I was singing I Could Never Be Your Woman by Whitetown to myself, complete with clarinet/synth riff sung in doo doo dee doos .... when somewhere along the line it turned into the death-star theme from Star Wars! Now I am aware (from the reactions of friends I was with at the time) that no one finds this as entertaining as I do, but its just so unusual to get startled by something that's in your own head... how could I not find it hilarious? Alright, now I really am starting to sound like a crackpot...

Aaaaaanyways, what I actually meant to be talking about is the more pleasant phenomenon of a stuck-in-your-head-song reminding you of something you haven't heard in years, prompting you to re-listen to a long forgotten but much beloved tune. I have recently been chain-listening to There May be Ten or Twelve by A.C. Newman. The absolutely lovely lyrics and the slightly epic musical arrangement are awesome in and of themselves, but they also very very very much remind me of Oysrterband's album Holy Bandits.

Now I'm not a huge fan of Celtic music -I'm sure I've mentioned before that I love bagpipes but can't stand fiddles- but this lack of enthusiasm is easily trumped my love of Oysterband. Epic riffs, sad yet beautiful lyrics, pounding drums and haunting tunes that stay in your head for days... Re-listening to the CD reminds me not only of the time I spent in my fourth-year studio blaring 'Road to Santiago' (and having friends express confusion at the uncharacteristic Celtic-ness of the music) but also of the worlds to which I was always transported when listening to their songs. Not the philosophically-laced fairy tales of The Shins, nor the Grungy Detroit of The White Stripes, or even the Ontariario of Elliot Brood, but the vast in-between that rests somewhere betwixt the real and the imaginary, betwixt fable and fact.

A.C. Newman similarly creates this feeling of within. Of being, not a fly on the wall, but being actually in between the feelings and the words and emotions of the situation, floating in the invisible waters of intangibility. Such a short song, so few lyrics, but believe me, the feeling of epicness rivals that of Homer. And no I don't mean the cartoon one.

There May be Ten or Twelve by A.C. Newman

There are maybe ten or twelve
Things I could teach you
After that, well, I think you're on your own
And that wasn't the opening line
It was the tenth or the twelfth
Make of that what you will

Once there was a haunted loop
Of your deep, fallen tears
A forehead resting on a record shelf
Amid moving boxes stacked
I'm still waiting for the right words
Make of that what you will

And the eyes they were
A color I can't remember
Which says more than the first two verses
And it is the devil you know
That will slam the door harder
Make of that what you will

Home, Home, Hooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaame

I lived 'away' for quite a number of years- four provinces away from home for over ten years to be exact, and I never stopped longing for that feeling of being where you're 'supposed' to be... Its great to travel, its great to see the world, and I could not be happier that I didn't just live in one place for my whole life, but there are places that feel 'right' and places that just don't, and the longer you live in one of those 'just don't' places, the sadder you feel.

Music was always the most difficult thing for me- on the east coast its all about fiddles and bagpipes- now don't get me wrong, I love me some bagpipes (especially piobaireachd) but east coast music is just not the same as music from Ontariario... I missed the experience of going to concerts, I missed the summer festivals and the accessibility of it all, but more than anything it was the overwhelming feeling that got all stirred up in me when I listened to a home-town band.

There was many a time driving home from work when a song would come on and have me in tears of homesickness, but no band was more responsible for these occurrences as Elliot Brood. I thought that I could pinpoint it to a song (for a long time I thought it was just Oh Alberta) but as I listened to more and more of their music, I realized that there is just something about it that screams home for me. Something about the sound and the lyrics and the enthusiasm and the unabashed love for where they live that jumps out and grabs me by the intestines. There are bands that are like this about many places, Old Man Luedeke will forever symbolize the South Shore to me,  just as the Decemberists practically scream Portland, but I'm not from the South Shore or Portland, I'm from Ontario, and Elliot Brood captures that feeling of Ontario Home like no other band I know.

The other day The Valley Town came on the radio. This time the opening banjo chord, the building complexities and the rousing chorus at the end made my heart soar instead of making me homesick. I don't know how they do it, or even what they're doing, I'm just happy to be able to experience it where I'm meant to be. Home.

Sam Roberts Does Massey Hall OR How on Earth Do People Sit During Concerts?

How do people sit at concerts? No really, HOW DO PEOPLE SIT AT CONCERTS!?!?!?
I'm not talking about the symphony or the opera, okay okay I understand how people sit at those type of concerts, I mean how do you sit at a rock concert? How? How do you feel the bass and sing along, and not stand up? I am baffled- As apparently also were several other concert-goers at last night's Sam Roberts show at Massey Hall... more on that in a moment...

Sam Roberts was one of my first concert loves. Sam Roberts at the Key to Bala. I think that was the first time I fell in love with a concert, the first time I felt like i was on the moon afterward. Cuz Sam Roberts- he is good live. What I mean is, he is GOOD live. I mean GOOD. I challenge you to see him live and not enjoy it. Seriously. My friend El doesn't really even like him on CD, but will drop everything to see him in concert. Its the energy! I know that sounds all lame and hippy-dippy, but its really the only way to describe it- The Sam Roberts Band have great energy on stage. They always look like they're having the time of their lives, they sing/play their hearts out, the sweat everywhere (you say 'gross', I say 'sexy') and they sound GOOD.

I've lost count of how many times I've seen them live (Once three times in four days...! OK, ok, I was going through a bit of a Sam Roberts phase...) but they never disapoint. And neither do the fans. There are many things I love about a Sam Roberts show, but the fans have gotta be right up there. The most random people love Sam Roberts. Seven year olds love Sam Roberts. Hard-core punks love Sam Roberts. Hippies with dreadlocks down to their knees love Sam Roberts. And those who love him LOVE him. No really, LOVE him, and don't care who knows it.

Last nights show was no exception. Now I should likely start off by saying that  I haven't seen Sam Roberts play in a few years, and he did not disappoint even one little bit (the addition of a horn section just made it that much better), but I did go through the all-familiar concert psych-out before it started. You know, the I-haven't-seen-this-band-in-a-while-and-I-used-to-love-them-so-much-I-hope-I-am-not-just-gonna-be-disappointed psych out? Yeah, you never have to worry about that with Sammy. Everything I remembered about their shows was upheld with remarkable intergrity. What I did, hoever, forget, whas how entertaining the other fans were.

Casein point: sitting down.

Exhibit A) The soccer Mom. Older Lady, balcony, tight tan pants and an overly flowery shirt. Very excited. standing. Did not care at all that no one else around her was (apparently people think being in the balcony means you shouldn't stand up... bollocks. Stand up.). Awesome.

Exhibit B) Dude with the mohawk and dirty white tank top. totally opposite end of the standing-spectrum. He was standing. He was clapping. He was singing along (which in and of itself was super entertaining), and he was having none of anyone also not doing those three things. At one point he literally ran down the aisle, took another guy by the shoulders and started making him dance. Again, Awesome.

Alright so maybe I'm not exhibit A or B (not on the outside anyways...) but I secretly would love to be either of them (or both!) because here's the thing... ok I have no thing, I have no big eloquent reason, just a feeling. Just a feeling that if you're sitting down at a rock concert, you are missing out.

So here is a simple rule: If you can feel the bass, you should be standing up. Done.