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

Death Country, Chains, and Group Wonderment

I am in love.

Not with a person. That too normal, too plain. I am in love with six (or it it seven?) persons- though I suppose perhaps more accurately I am in love with their band...

I tend to get a little excited about music (understatement? yes. super-excited? more accurate). If you know me at all (or have, like, ever read this blog) you would not be at all surprised by that statement. You might, however, be surprised to know that, of my experiences of falling in love with bands, the sudden, immediate, 'holy crap who the hell is this?' ones are surprisingly few. Now I suppose this makes sense as you don't often go to see a band live unless you've at least hear of them, but the magic of music festivals lies exactly in creating such opportunities for discovery and love-falling-in. In seeing bands perform whom you've never heard of and would otherwise have never been exposed to. I've written before about the first time I saw Arcade Fire, the 'ummmmm who is this? because they kind of freakin rock... ' vibe and how that was the first and only time I've ever seen that happen to a whole field-full of people at exactly the same time... well that story must now be amended, for I have once again been privileged to be a part of a room-full (or in this case tent-full) of people simultaneously falling in love with a band. And that band is Graveyard Train.

They classify themselves as 'horror-country' (strikingly similar to the self-moniker of 'death-country' used by one of my all-time favourites Elliot Brood) and are a crazy-awesome mix of a tumble-weed-covered-frontier-town-saloon crossed with chain-gang-running-from-a-pack-of-zombies. K and I spent the weekend discussing the awesomeness of their man-choir voices and their amazing choice of instruments (steel guitar, slide guitar, banjo, stand-up bass and chains. yes chains. played with a hammer.) and going to see them as many times as possible (three times in three days was almost not enough!) but the part that stands out most for me was the first twenty seconds of the first song I ever heard them play.

At Hillside there are main-stage and side-stage performances, but there are also workshops where bands who have never met, and often never even heard of each other, get together and jam. The regular performances are usually pretty durn awesome,  but the jam sessions are where the unexpected, unprecedented, and totally magical become common place. We had just gone to see Karkwa who were amaaaazing (and will soon have their whole own blogpost I'm sure...) and they were playing a workshop later on that evening in one of the tents, so we headed on over. It turned out they were going to be jamming with a band from Australia (Australian meets Quebequois was to be a theme for the weekend) who looked like they had just stepped off of a wagon train. I was already pretty excited when I saw the banjo and the steel guitar, but nothing could have prepared me for the music...

They came on stage. They picked up their instruments ("Is that guy holding a chain!?!" "Which guy?" "The one in the dirty tank-top, suspenders, and work-pant cut-offs..."). The lead singer tipped his hat. They started singing. Holy. Shit.

We were hit by the wall of sound of five men (manly men. dirty men. men men) stretched out in a line across the stage, belting out harmonies the likes of which have not seen the light of day since 1879. We stood stunned. The whole tent stood stunned. There was a stunned silence, literally. (Well not quite literally as there was the music... but other than the music there was a stunned silence.) Eight seconds, nine seconds... I turned to K, she was looking back at me; "Who the fuck are these guys!?!" We looked around. Everyone looked around. We were all turning to the side and saying the exact same thing...

Twelve seconds... a murmur sweeps the tent...

Fifteen seconds... everyone's head starts to move up and down. shoulders shrugging in rhythm...

Eighteen seconds... feet tapping, hands clapping...

Twenty seconds... I am in love.

It got even better as the song went on. It got even better with each song. Karkwa joined in and it got even better and better. After they were finished I speed-walked to the merch tent and straight up to the table, picked up their CD and handed it to the girl behind the counter: "I need this one." I was sad when it was over, but super excited that I would get to watch them again the next day, and again the day after that... Even more excited when the same experience was repeated two more times, with the slight modification of a growing crowd at the front of those of us already-converted, and a diminishing crowd of first-timers sitting in-behind, wondering at why we were all so excited (until they experienced their own first-twenty-seconds and joined the ranks of the initiated).

Its a pretty magical thing to be a part of an amazing concert and even more so one where so many people are seeing a band for the first time and falling in love with them. Scratch that, its DAMN FINE. It a damn fine thing to have such a wonderful group experience- and to get to have it again and again three days in a row.

Thank you Hillside. Thank you Graveyard Train. Thank you tent-people with whom I got to share this! Now disperse and spread the word... music is a wonderful thing.

The Accidental Loving of Something Well Known Somewhere Else

I'm not hipster (ok I do have a few pairs of neon nylons and a collection of fake Raybans but really, who doesn't?) but I'm not the biggest fan of popular music. Sure I like Lady Gaga (again, who doesn't?), but most of the bands I absolutely love are either too small/local to be well known or were big decades ago (some decades before I was born...). I could go on for years and years about the fantastic amazingness of Elliot Brood, The Decemberists, Old Man Leudecke, CCR, Queen, or Zeus, but nine times out of ten the person I'm talking to has either never heard of them, or has the vague sense that their 'dad used to listen to that band when he was a teenager.' This doesn't bother me, in fact I kind of enjoy having these bands kind of to myself (though I much more enjoy introducing someone to one of them and having it become one of their favourite bands...!) but I even more enjoy having the experience of finding out that one of my bands is actually a favourite of millions of other people- just not the people I'm usually around!

I had two such experiences this week:

I am currently working on a show that has all Canadian music playing right up until it starts. Its not the same music every day, and I am quite the fan of Canadian music, so I tend to be able to sing along with most of the songs. The other day one came on that I loved right from the first or second bar. It took many 'yes reeeeeally's from my friend to convince me that, not only had he also no idea at all who it was, but that they were in fact singing in French. There are a few french/Quebecquois band I like (Couer de Pirate  not least amongst them!) but this band sounded like an anglophone indie band, one I not only liked, but liked enough that I was completely confused as to why I did not already own all of their music.

With some help from the fancy iphone app of another friend we were able to ascertain that this band was in fact Karkwa... who won the Polaris Prize last year. Who are one of the top indie bands in Quebec. Who played in Paris with the Arcade Fire and out-reviewed them... even though none of the three of us had ever heard them, there were thousands of people out there in the world who already adored them. I love it when that happens! When you happen upon a new band and find that they're only unknown where you are, that somewhere else they're huge, or at least well enough known and respected to win the biggest music prize in Canada... I got their album online. I am listening to it right now. For the fourth straight time in a row. So new favourite band, check.

The second such experience was having the chance to see John Fogerty perform live. I was talking to a co-worker just as he got started and she actually said 'yeah, I don't know who that is... I mean maybe I would recognize some of the songs if I heard them..." !?! for serious? ok, ok, I've spent most of my life trying to explain to people my age why CCR is so incredibly awesome, and how I wouldn't even be very sad to miss other music if they were the only band I could ever listen to for the rest of my life... but it still floors me when someone doesn't know that they wrote 'Proud Mary' (The first time I heard the Tina Turner version I literally cringed. I mean visibly. I shuddered. I've gotten used to it- kinda- over time, but I still hear Fogerty singing over Tina every time...) or Suzie Q. Who doesn't know Suzie Q? And Born on the Bayou? Apparently lots of people don't. But none of them were rockin' out at bluesfest yesterday.

I didn't get to see too much of the show (though I got to hear all of it!) but the part I did spend out in the crowd was amazing. As a kid listening to CCR I never thought that I would actually get to see them (well one of them anyways) perform live. Like Queen or ABBA I just always kind of assumed that they were long dead and gone just like the rest of my growing-up bands (though having said that I did get to watch an hour long Paul McCartney sound check a few years back and had a similar 'this is soooo weird' feeling). So getting to, not only watch and listen to Fogerty perform, but be surrounded by truckloads of people who were just as into it, just as excited about it, just as 'Oh my god, Its John Fogerty!!!' as I was was pretty 'effin awesome.

Sometimes its nice to feel like you like bands that are just yours... but sometimes its nice to really feel like you're tapping into something that's already there, sharing the awesomeness of the music with an already existing community of like-minded and like-excited folk. This week I've been diggin' that second kind of sometimes.

Its OK to Not Like Things

I recently (aka like an hour ago) stumbled upon a very short and very silly song that perfectly sums up something I struggled with for a loooong time. No, not anything so serious as depression or anorexia or something, I'm talking about not-liking-things.

Listen to 'Its OK to not like things!' Though I should warn you, its terribly addictive...

This may sound like a weird problem to have, but throughout my childhood I felt compelled to at least sorta like pretty much everything I came across. From music to movies to people. Doesn't sound so bad, but the problem is that when you like everything its hard to tell what you actually like... what you love, whats really important to you. And that's kinda, well, important!

I don't remember exactly when it happened, but at some point during high school I started to be ok with disliking things, and a whole new world opened up to me. No longer did I have to force myself to like chemistry class (all other sciences are so much better!) or be friends with the annoying guy from drama (just because other friends are friends with him... whatever, he was annoying!) or to enjoy the first half of Catcher in the Rye (I liked the second half, but man, first half Holden is an arsehole!!!)! I started to have opinions more often, I started to get into friendly arguments with people who disagreed with me, and best of all I developed a few arch nemesises (nemesi?)- and yes they do exist in real life and they are just as entertaining as in comics ;o)

Its not even just the disliking that makes things more fun/better/awesomer its loving disliking them- like  The Empire Strikes Back, green peppers, and Vin Diesel (to name a few)! It gives me the opportunity to argue with people without hurting anyone's feelings or making them actually upset! Arguing sans consequence. Mostly anyways. the trick is to stay away from hating things, and only let yourself go so far as to have a strong strong dislike. That way you don't let the evil in, only the fun!

See for yourself how much fun it can be and not-like something today!