Tiny Chipmunks, Tiny Chipmunks Inside of My Heart

So at Folkfest last night I had an experience which has become strangely familiar to me over the course of the past few months- that of falling completely in love with the band playing on stage. At times its with a band I already adore (I am not sure that I am actually capable of explaining how much I feel about Elliott Brood...) or one I have never even heard of (hi Graveyard Train. Yes. You are crazy awesome.  Mostly Crazy. But also Awesome.) but it is a feeling that can be topped by very few things in life. Actually that statement is mostly assumption, as I am simply guessing that seeing your kid for the first time ought to feel better than falling in love with a band, but I would also not be surprised if it felt exactly the same... that's how much I love this feeling.

The most recent subject of my adoration (type two, the "never before heard of them" kind) is Punch Brothers. Its the mandolin, its the banjo, its the low voices, their olde tymey suits and their charming ways that combine to make a magical wonderfullness that makes me so excited that I sprinted from one end of the grounds to the complete opposite corner (in the middle of their set) to purchase a CD, then ran all the way back, missing only one song ( Rye Whiskey is a perfect example of a song of theirs that elicits such a response from/in me...).

And its not just an idea, its not just a feeling, its an actual physical response. I was trying to explain to El what I meant by that and this was the best I could do- their songs make me feel like there are tiny chipmunks running around inside of my heart. Like their little tiny hands are kneeding the inside of my chest, hugging and tugging at my heart strings. Crawling around in there like its where they belong, like they always live there, only they don't let me know it unless they're really really happy. I don't know if that makes any sense at all, but its exactly what it feels like, and it feels both wonderful and super weird all at once. It came out of my mouth, this explanation, and it seemed the only and most perfect time I have ever described the feeling.  And its a feeling I've had before. Its a feeling I've had about music (about certain bands or certain songs) for quite a while. About Sam Roberts, about the White Stripes, about the Decemberists and the Shins, but recently very often about Elliot Brood, Old Man Leudecke, Dry River Caravan and Graveyard Train. And so I found myself suddenly wondering; how why and HOW did it take me so long to realize that I love adore and LOVE bluegrass music!?! 

I am happy being someone who likes many different types of music (I would never say "I like all kind of music" cuz to me that's just something someone says if they don't really like music at all...) , but I always used to add the caveat "but not country, never country"- and that made me happy, I was ok with that as my definition of my sphere of music-liking. Except that it was never true. Big Wreck takes a lot from country, as did CCR, and The Lovin' Spoonful- all favourite bands of my youth. The first time I saw "Oh Brother Where Art Thou?" I did nothing but listen to the soundtrack for weeks... 'Jackson' by Johnny Cash has also been known to lodge itself into my skull and not let go... and don't even get me started on banjo- oh banjo! the most inexplicably sexy and wonderful instrument on the planet.

So I'm giving up another part of who i thought I was, taking on yet another thing that the teenage me would have not only scoffed at, but quite possibly never-spoken-to-me-again over- I no longer hate country music. Pop Country- the Carrie Underwoods and the Kenny Chesneys of the world- is still safely outside of my sphere of like, but prog-bluegrass, death-country and alt-country? I likes em. There I said it. How can I not admit to liking that makes my tiny heart chipmunks so happy?

Homes Dissapear

With the end of summer fast approaching (where did it GO?) I find myself getting preemptively nostalgic for all the fun-times, fun-friends, fun-weather, and fun-music I've been a part of this past few months (and mark my words it has been a lot of all of those things... living with El, visiting Montreal, going to the cottage, roller derby, hillside, working with some fantastically awesome people, working some fantastically awesome shows (how did I get paid to watch John Foggerty and have a front row seat at the Canada Day fireworks?!?), and enjoying one of the most beautifully warm and sunny summers I've ever experienced). Most of the time I'm in it ("You're so in it right now, you're just so in it...") but the past few days I've definitely had some of those moments where I can't help but think  "I don't want it to all be over..."

Melodramatic sentiments aside, its gotten me thinking about how much I have really started to feel at home here, and what that means. Sure I think its a beautiful city, I love biking along the trails and walking along the paths. I love being close enough to Quebec to walk over from work and bike home at 2am and for French to sound as familiar as English. I love the weather and the green and the rivers... I love so many physical things about where I live, but so much of what has made me feel like I live here has been ephemeral- people, events, experiences. Much like in University, you construct a place out of everything it means to you, and when you try to hold on to that, or when you try to go back, its just not the same because the remnants of the physical things are all that is left. Everything changes around you (and though you may not feel like you're changing too, inevitably you are) and one day you wake up to discover that its all different- the place you thought you were building just doesn't exist any more.

A few days ago I happened upon the song False Creek Change by Said the Whale and was transfixed by how well it captures just this kind of thing- the inevitability:

False Creek changed in '86
the year Expo exploited her shore
It's been twenty two years laying down bricks
and there's no room for me here any more, any more
there's no room for me here anymore

I made my mark in '84
Born to the month of June
My home at the heart of Charleson Park
I never thought I'd be leaving so soon, so soon
Never thought I'd be leaving so soon

I've watched The Walls of Yaletown
growing up over my mountain view
My old horizon under the clouds
I'll be sad when I'm thinking of you
I'll be sad when I'm thinking of you

Now all the old men and their boats have gone
and I will be leaving too
My little red roof by the old duck pond
I'll be saying farewell to you
I'll be saying farewell to you

Sometimes its sad, sometimes it means that its time for you to go (sorry Halifax), but more often its a matter of realizing that you've already gone, more precisely its already gone ("It never occurred to me to think of space as the thing that was moving...") that it can never really exist again. It seems sad and final and depressing, but the thing is that you can't really miss it because it was never a real thing to start with. And if it was never really a real thing to start with the fact that it can never again be a real thing really makes no difference, right? Too much?

Alls I'm saying is that instead of spending my time being sad that the summer is ending and all of my ephemeral summer experiences are slowly fading away, I am going to spend my time enjoying them. Savoring every last second. Because they're not really the last seconds at all- they're just the seconds at the middle of the beginning- or at worst at the beginning of the middle...

Classifications of Systems

My sister once asked me how I would classify (aka organize) music if I could do it exactly the way I wanted... At the time I said by imaginary environments (like Elliot Brood would go in the 'saloon town' category and 'Portland' would expand to include all bands that sound like they should live near The Shins or The Decemberists...). I would still most certainly keep that as a type of classification, but I would also add another: weather.

Today was grey and cloudy- not quite raining, just that kind of sitting-in-a-mopey-cloud kind of day that makes you feel melancholia (though not sad) and spacey (though not slow) and (for me at least) buzzy with creativity... the kind of weather that always makes me want to listen to music and paint. Today my band of choice was The Decemberists. All of The Decemberists. Every CD, every EP, all in a row, all day long. (Even The Tain, a thirteen minute epic of story-telling genius). And it was awesome.

[sidebar: I absolutely love listening to The Decemberists and so much of that is because they always make me feel like making things- painting, drawing, sewing, building... and in such a way that I actually do make things! Today it was a big painting of a whale with a living room in its belly. Tomorrow? Who knows- but its a great feeling to have and even better to know all I have to do to bring it on is whip out a certain discography...]

So in the category of cloudy (but not rainy), cool (but not cold), and laid-back (but not sluggish) kin-o-days I put forth The Decemberists, entry number one. Add to the list as you see fit.

Adorable Love Songs Make Adorable Ukulele Songs

So I've recently taken up the ukulele- and by "taken up" I mean I can play two songs on it, one of which I can only sometimes sing and play at the same time... None the less, I have devoted some actual time to it, and have been rather pleased with the results. Not only does Uke let you play and sing simultaneously (this is rather difficult on a melodica...) it is also small (aka very portable), plucky (aka always super happy sounding), and adorable (aka ADORABLE). Which makes it perfect for playing adorable songs...

Now my sister and I have had a few lengthy conversations about adorable love songs and their innate awesomeness, but its something that is surprisingly difficult to explain to some people... I don't mean cute like flying bunnies with pink bonnets on, I mean adorable. Okay, that didn't help explain at all. I may have found the root of my problem... so:

adjective /əˈdôrəbəl/ 

Inspiring great affection; delightful; charming. Behaving in a child-like or naive way.

I think the key here is the combination of charming and naive. One might even say charmingly naive... its not about being cutesy, or cute in pretty much any way, but about being earnest in a way that is not annoying but is still coming from such a place of absolute honesty (naivite) that you can't help but smile... In songs this also usually comes across in the music- simple melodies, plucky happy sounding instruments, joyful whistling or 'doo doo doo' ing, likely some hand claps...

Alright alright, maybe that is not really helping at all... Just watch this. This is what I mean, this is adorable...

I have found my next song to whistle while I work.... and learn to play on my ukulale