"We Love You Montreal!"

Sometimes you go to an event, for me usually a concert, and you get this weird feeling, this feeling that this is one of those things that you're going to tell your kids about. That you're going to get to say "I was there when..." This was one of those things: Aracde Fire and Karkwa, Free in Montreal.

Alright so I already love Arcade Fire, and I already love Karkwa... and this show was free. So it was a pretty easy sell. But I didn't really count on how easy a sell it would be... to everyone. I have never seen so many people at a show. They closed down Places des Arts. They re-routed the busses. They handed out free water. And it was so worth it.

The concert was great. The music was great, the sound quality was great, the video was great (I felt like I could see everything despite being behind three trees...). The vibe was great ( I feel like a dork saying 'vibe' but all alternatives sound even lamer... so the 'vibe' was great). Everyone was in such a great mood, people were singing and dancing together, talking with random strangers, being pleasant and happy... Of course the fact that it was all free didn't hurt, but I can't help but feel that having that many people being that happy in that small a space, makes everything seem just a little bit better. The air sweeter, the water taste better, everyone friendlier...

There was a moment right at the end where they released dozens of giant glowing balloons into the crowd, and there was a great gasp. An actual audible collective gasp. It was fantastic. and when I tell my kids about that show, its not the video or the lights or even the balloons that will get the spotlight- it will be the dancing, the singing, and the gasp. Hearing tens of thousands of people simultaneously gasping in delight. Perfect.

You never grow too old to do the things you love, only too old to remember you love them OR A Love Letter to Moshing

As promised,  'I Love Concerts' part deux ;o)

So Thursday I had kind of a shitty day. Nothing huge or earth shattering, just not that wonderful either Just shitty. And I felt like I really needed to do something . ANYTHING. just something INVOLVED. Participatory. Fun. Concert.

Luckily a friend of mine had mentioned earlier that he was going to see the Planet Smashers so I asked him if I could tag along, he said sure, so I met up with him and some of his friends.

Now I should say right off that the Planet Smashers are a ska band- one of the few ska bands I actually ever listened too, but that I kinda forgot that ska is usually grouped in with punk... so I turn up and I am by far the brightest person there (in my rainbow shirt, neon green hoodie and bright turquoise toque...), but I have decided not to let anything stop me from having fun. I decide I do not care if I stick out like a sore thumb. And I don't! Apparently sometimes 'just deciding' something actually works! Score one for me!

I quickly discovered that the Real McKenzies were opening (bagpipes! punk music with bagpipes! so good) met the friends of friends (who were of the the super-excited-about-live-shows persuasion- my favourite kind of folk), got a beer, and settled in near the bar (right in the middle of the highway to the bar in fact). The constant flow of people, was nice though instead of annoying or frustrating! Each and every person who bumped into me said sorry or smiled in apology.  Someone would catch your eye while you were bopping your head to the music and randomly give you a huge smile or even a high five just in support of your enjoyment of the music. It was great! I had almost forgotten how friendly people are at punk shows, how exactly the opposite of the image they portray...

But what I had forgotten even more was how much I love the pit. For Planet Smashers we all decided to head up to the front and it was less than a second from when they picked up their instruments to when everyone went crazy. Skanking, moshing, crowd surfing... By the end of their set I was soaked from head to toe (Josh commenting: "you're sweating like me!"), smelled of other people, had a throbbing nose from getting elbowed in the face, bruised arms and knees, a throat raw from singing, ears that were ringing and toes that felt like they had been crushed to a pulp. I had been shoved around, lifted off my feet, half-lost a shoe, fallen over and been picked back up again... and I could not have been happier. Good bye shitty day, hello awesomeness.

This is when I understand why people look at me funny when I try to explain why I love concerts. I mean, it doesn't really sound like much fun when its written down in black and white like that... I get it. I get that, for all intents and purposes, getting trapped in a swarm like that seems like something that should be terrifying (especially for someone like me who grew up pretty petrified of crowds) but it just isn't. It never has been. Its always seemed strangely comforting (may even have been one of the main factors in helping me get over that fear)! There is something to be said for losing yourself in a crowd- a rambunctious, enthusiastic, singing, dancing, strangely kind and polite crowd- all doing the same thing, all working as one, all there to have fun and support everyone else's fun-having.

I had forgotten how much I love mosh pits. I had forgotten how much I love being in a position of complete trust with everyone around you (weird that eh? being bashed around by strangers, but knowing that the second anything bad happens ten of those same people will making sure you're ok...). The jumping, the getting lifted up off your feet, the getting dizzy and lost, then the surprise at being suddenly face to face with a friend, or even just someone you shared a high five with after an earlier song...  All of those things, but most of all, best of all, the falling down- because you barely have time to realize you're on the floor before someone is lifting you back up.

Life should be more like that, life should be like a mosh pit- where its crazy and exciting and silly and kind, but most of all where complete strangers pick you up when you need a hand. Where you feel safe- even when you get elbowed in the face, where you feel respected- even when someone crashes into you, where you feel love- even when everyone is shouting at the top of their lungs...

Life should be a mosh pit. I'm tellin' you, it really should...

"We have reached a crossroads...

...the crossroads between 'Lame' and 'Awesome.' The sign pointing that way says 'Lame.' The sign pointing this way says 'Awesome.' I know which way I'm going...!"




So my sister has been putting a plan into action the past few months- no not a secret plan to fight inflation- but a secret plan none the less. She has been conspiring to make me like all of her favourite bands. And it worked.

Tonight I went to see 'Said the Whale' and "Rah Rah'. Two of 'Krista's bands' that she has been putting on mixed cds since January. Two bands that I never knew existed a few months ago, and now feel like I've been listening to for forever. Even better she's gotten my roomate loving these bands as well! Always nice when you don't have to drag someone along, but can just tell them who is playing and they jump at the chance :o)

We had a great time. The show was awesome (see quote at the top. They weren't kiddin- they chose the awesome path) and of course it got me into the whole "Oh I love live music... live music... concerts... I love them so!" and the thinking, wondering about how there are people out there who possibly don't share that sentiment... I mean as I've said on many occasions- I get it academically speaking. I mean I don't like green peppers, they don't like concerts. Fine. There are reasons- your feet hurt, your voice goes hoarse, you're super tired the next day... (more on that in my next post!) but man is it worth it.  Its so much more than just listening to music in a room with a bunch of people you don't know- the vibe (not to sounds lame but yes, the vibe) at a good concert is such a rush. Everyone having a great time, singing along, dancing and jumping...  and seeing the band grinning from ear to ear ("The only thing I don't like about tonight is that my face hurts because I can't stop smiling! you guys are amazing!" observed Ben Worcester) having a fantastic time ("this is so short! I mean it went by so fast! ... that's a good thing by the way, it means we're having fun up here!" said Tyler Bancroft) just makes it even better. Like when we saw Karkwa at hillside and the lead singer could not stop giggling at the seventeen year olds rocking out in the front row- you could tell he thought it was hilarious. Or the look on the faces of Graveyard Train when our crowd started moshing and crazy-dancing- the next day they tweeted "Best show ever- we got the Canadians crowd surfing!" To know that its not just you, or even just the rest of the audience who is feeling that (again, please excuse the cheese) magical serendipitous feeling...

In other words its the whole experience. Sharing that time, that space, that experience with a roomful of other people you don't even know, but who you have at least one thing in common with... its golden. Simply golden.

Camilo (the magician) by Said The Whale

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