the guild

Felicia Day hits a perfect note.

poetry & airplanes (i'm tired of waiting for love)

I first heard about Teitur from a short article on Paste. For some reason, my (young/eager) heart was prompted to downloaded their song Poetry & Airplanes onto my cellphone - something I would never fathom to do now. I later played it to a friend while driving by a shaded road (warm still through the scratch of makeshift speakers).

Since then I haven't seriously ventured into anymore Teitur; he sounded like Rufus Wainwright meets Damien Rice's poetic aspirations & that was a bit too much melodrama even for me to take. As yet, that one song always reminded me of how white bedsheets reflect against skin (morning, saturday) & driving down dirt roads that feel like shattered champagne bottles on stained carpets.

I recently came upon an NPR feature on Teitur's Catherine the Waitress (which strikes similarities to a Bobbie Allen meets Joe Christmas relationship - anyone, anyone?). I didn't recognize him from how he coyly smiled to me behind the diner bar. Maybe I would miss him now.



Catherine The Waitress - Teitur (2008)

endorsement enforcement

I'm being a bit of a "class-conscious philistine" here, but the Slate podcasts are truly a marvelous thing (I particularly recommend the Cultural Gabfests).

If you look hard enough, I'm flashing you the thumbs-up sign with one hand while pumping/bumping (ha-ha?) the air with the other. I'm very predictable.

a right fur peace

Pretty in love/Pretty, in love.


'Perhaps they were right in putting love into books,' he thought quietly. 'Perhaps it could not live anywhere else.'

& so understanding my incentive for everything (typical)
[breathes deeply & gulps the last of her lemonade]
probably the best thing that has happened to me all summer.

run rabbit run

Andrew Weiss gets the great rock genre (circa 1970s?). Be it Ween, Akron/Family, or Café Tacvba - every one of his creations has a trudging, half-dreaming Syd Barrent quality about it.

From laptops in living rooms to Weiss's mixing board, Aderbat has been no exception. On July 24, the five-membered band released their sophomore album We Belong To The Sea (also the title of an Aqua song - but similarities end there). Aderbat is a mash-up/throw-down of wonderful surrealism featuring Pink Floyd vs. Radiohead vs. Stan Getz (Matt Taylor's voice verges impressionistic shades of jazz).

It's about, yes, relationships. The band is, yes, hopelessly inspired by hip cultural references such as Roshomon (Aderbat is the name of some archaic experimental flying machine). Isn't it romantic?


Busted Cars - Aderbat
Come Love - Aderbat

post script

Sometimes I hate myself for getting a kick out of things like this, but hey! He is officially my number one.

hey ya'll good morning

This is West Side Story* meets Working meets Rent. This is In The Heights. This is wonderful.

The musicals I've performed alone in my bedroom (straight through, with costumes) are generally dated pre-1980s, so it's always refreshing & encouraging to hear that, yes, people are still composing for Broadway. I can sing & gush through any Sondheim musical front-to-back, but even I don't believe ol' Stevie is making a comeback anytime soon (winning "Best Revival of a Musical" every other year does not count). Remarks of Broadway plummeting into extinction have lead to comparisons with opera's road of esotericism. I'll admit that all musicals share a distinctive quality; sui generis. Perhaps this is why critics can't see the art progressing any further than box office of Andrew Lloyd Webber rock operas.

So I'm reminded that musical theater's credo is revival (full of hope) & its modern-day composers are ceaselessly remaking Broadway's sound (while staying true to Gay, Gilbert & Sullivan). The best composers today are those who use what they know & what they've lived. Jason Robert Brown's heartbreaking The Last Five Years (2001) goes both ways in time & the audience witnesses the same marriage simultaneously beginning & falling apart. tick, tick...BOOM! (1990) is basically a musical portrayal of Jonathan Larson's aspiring-composer/SoHo-cafe-waitering days, while his notorious Rent sings about every bohemian topic possible (including Sondheim).

The blurring of contemporary pop sounds with the roots of blues music & the technique of classical voices is what makes listening to a cast album the greatest joy (I swear). Success is a song capable of being taken out of stage-context & placed solitary among another genre. In The Heights sounds to me sometimes like an R&B ballad, sometimes rap, salsa, merengue etc etc., but when I hear the rolling suspended cymbal closing the finale, I know I'm pretty much home.

In The Heights is this years Tony award winning musical written/composed by twenty-eight year old Lin-Manuel Miranda. He also stars in the show, but don't worry - he's tremendous. It was nominated thirteen times & took home four wins (including Best Musical).


*But actually, the opening number begins exactly as West Side Story's "America." Goody.

how do i look?

I was recently reading Truman Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's, & despite Capote's casting requests, I just don't see Holly Golightly as a Marilyn Monroe. She's so clearly an Audrey Hepburn.

To no surprise, there have been thousands of films based on novels, short stories, & comics. This season's line-up of movies contain a number of adaptations from books I've already read - ultimately diminishing my desire to see them. When I do watch a book-based-film I must try to forget my preconceptions of, well, everything - for they rarely coincide with the director's. Although fantasy films may serve as visual indulgence, they're no game for (highly resourceful) imaginations. & despite never actually having re-read a Harry Potter book - Danielle Radcliffe was in. my. head. after the premier of Sorcerer's Stone.

During my A Beautiful Mind phase I not only repeatedly watched the film, but also spent hours listening to the (instrumental) soundtrack. Boombox in the washroom during baths? I was all over that shit. I actually brought the movie to a friend's birthday party along with an excuse like, "Your name is Alicia & so is the heroine in this supersupersuper movie!". So it was obvious to me to read the book which had inspired the movie. I remember a school secretary asking me one afternoon how the book was: "Great! But...different than the movie."

As a child, Jane Austen, Roald Dahl & the Narnia series served as wonderful material to get drunk on, & became so perfectly & elementally set in my mind, making early books the hardest to grapple with on screen. Colin Firth is a fox, & although being the quintessential Mr. Darcy to many girls, he just isn't mine. & despite thinking Tim Burton delightful - the only thing we share are the proportions between James & his giant peach. I love books & I love films. Sometimes I love films based on books - but I'd prefer to keep both entities separate.



Twilight comes out this December & I'm already sick of hearing about it. I'm looking forward to The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, not because it's my favourite Fitzgerald short story (it is), but because David Fincher is attempting such an ambitious plot. I'm terrified of how Blindness is going to turn out (a novel can only handle so much butchering, & there's enough of that between the covers). Choke remains, like most Chuck Palahniuk related things, up in the air. & of course, I've already made plans to watch The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2.

it's only hip-hop diamond trash lust

I'm happy to say my first subscription to The New Yorker arrived in the mail today, & interestingly enough the cover displays this controversial cartoon by Barry Blitt titled The Politics of Fear:
















Reactions to Blitt's satirical cover-art have been disparate to say the least, ranging from urges for editor David Remnick's resignation to comparisons to the (well-received) ironic comedy of Stephen Colbert. & of course, there are those who wish to know what the drama is really about (really).

Being one who embarrassingly lacks in the political department, I don't claim to possess an enlightened perspective on "The Politics of Fear" & if I did, I'm sure someone else has already written about it by now. I do believe that every generation contains it's own cultural borders which may not appear so distinct during the time. Art (speaking liberally) is meant to generate discourse & satire is meant to generate...an ironic chuckle? I've read that Blitt's fault lies in his "gutless" caricature of the Obama's; that had Blitt only made more of an overstatement to show this. really. was. satire. - America would have been left less confused & offended.



If anyone cares, the (serious) articles within this weeks issue related to Obama are pretty good.
Read them here & here.

drawing the line

The old debate over whether graffiti is art or vandalism (or perhaps both) is wonderfully illustrated (oh but literally) in this trailer. Here the artist is put on trail - both in court & in conscience - when forced to meditate upon motives behind his spray-painted creations.

The artist - Peter Gibson - is a local Montrealer & this past year, I've apparently blindly ambled across streets bearing his very work.

Watch the trailer here.


Spoiler: All charges against Gibson were dropped & his payment to the city was a small fine & 40 hours of community work. Personally, I'll be in the Plateau come Fall with my eyes to the ground.

so the world may call a fool

They start off perfectly bad. Wake up & hesitate to brush your teeth/sit in bed feeling rueful about some incident (dated, vague)/convincing yourself shame is a sign of self-honesty.

Work was awful, puddles, Chinese take-out. She thought: that almost rhymes.



Gabriel - Ivan Colón

modern messaging

As a shout out to non-electronic mail, I had to do this.

& then there were

Similar to this & this, it was about time Canada created an award for best album based on pure "artistic merit."

This past week, the Polaris Music Prize has announced its short list (10 albums narrowed down from 40). The judging system is pretty hep, involving a 178-person jury of qualified music journalists (none of whom have financial ties to nominated artists) each submitting a top 5 list, which ultimately becomes the short list. During the Polaris Awards gala held late September, a further 11-member Grand Jury tapers this list to one final winner.

A glance at the 40 album long list gives a fairly accurate portrait of an indie music blogger's "Best of 2008" playlist. But then again, I'm not complaining.

The "difficulty" of a vague selection criteria such as musical merit is fairly obvious - I can't begin to confidently predict a winner. I'd like to see Holy Fuck up there, although the ever-nostalgic Stars would come as a personal victory (haters to the left).

The 2008 short list:

Black Mountain – In The Future
Plants And Animals – Parc Avenue
Basia Bulat – Oh, My Darling
Stars – In Our Bedroom After The War
Caribou – Andorra Shad – The Old Prince
Kathleen Edwards – Asking For Flowers
Two Hours Traffic – Little Jabs
Holy Fuck – LP
The Weakerthans – Reunion Tour

Past winners include Patrick Watson (Close to Paradise) & Final Fantasy (He Poos Clouds).

Lovely Allen - Holy Fuck
Jezebel - Two Hours Traffic
Personal - Stars

thanks for being my girl

Unabashedly crooning songs of a gay subject matter, Jay Brannan is like a sweet commercialized version of Antony. While Antony warbles with immense heartache to lyrics such as those in "Be My Husband" -

Be my husband and I'll be your wife
Oh daddy now now love me good
Be my husband and I'll be your wife
If you want me to I'll cook and sew

Brannan's melodious tenor almost shade the darker themes underlying his lyrics, which half-laugh/half-bring-you-to-your-knees. For example, "Housewife" -

I wanna be a housewife
What's so wrong with that...

I like to wash the dishes
I like to scrub the floors
Don’t mind doing his laundry
What are boyfriends for?

Despite being a sucker for silvery voices, I'm not sure how I entirely feel about Mr. Brannan. By using lyrics involving the words iPod, Craigslist & your text messages were like no-calorie food for my soul I'm not certain if he's being flippant or genuinely serious.


Half- Boyfriend - Jay Brannan
Bird Girl - Antony & The Johnsons

look, i find some of what you teach suspect

For those who don't know, I've had two important obsessions throughout my life: Gilmore Girls & musical theater.

So it was interesting to discover that Wayne Wilcox (Marty in Gilmore Girls) also has portrayed Fabrizio (The Light in the Piazza) & Gordon in the film version of Rent. His role in the film was small, but not insignificant - because I remember coming out of the theater thinking "That solo was my favourite musical moment."

When I find a line sung with such shocking honesty, I usually rewind to the build-up of said moment & repeat it to exhaustion. It's some pathetic form of musical indulgence, & when the (generally weak) film soundtrack came out, I did exactly that with this clip.

wonderbloom

Mary fell in love at least twice before spring came. Looking for the driest land, she'd kneel down over the sallow, fractured ground & try to pray. Sometimes when she'd turn to ask if it meant anything, the streams would come. Always come the yearning rain, the kiss stains by her feet, the last ring I gave her she lost.

I don't know quite how to put to words what Anathallo feels like.

oh what can it mean to a
daydream believer

(why don't you marry it, then?)

When I really get down to it all - when I stop caring where they're from (Mt. Pleasant, Michigan), what Pitchfork rated "Floating World" (2.7), & what instruments are at work (flute, flugelhorn, harp). It all sounds very questionable, but still, it would be a mistake to not listen to them.

Hanasakajiijii (Four: A Great Wind, More Ash) - Anathallo (2006)
Dokkoise House (With Face Covered) - Anathallo (2006)
Nonias Field - Anathallo (2008)

strong opinions

Puttering around the used book stores of Edmonton, it's as if there's been some retail conspiracy to keep the supply of Naipaul up, Neruda down, & Nabokov nonexistent. Checking under "N Authors" of the Chapters that dot this flat land, I've consistently found myself frowning at a pair of rouged lips (that lilting "Lolita"), at best accompanied by a copy of "Pale Fire."

After my consumerist bust I grumbled, I heeled myself in the shins, I headed to the library. A most singular place within our unassuming city! Shelves devoted to Nabokov & not one coquettish "Lolita" (the darling was out on loan). I've been very happy ever since & last night was reading "Strong Opinions" - a collection of interviews taken across the decade of 1962 - 1972 compiled & republished by the great man himself. In the forward he famously writes "I think like a genius, I write like a distinguished author, and I speak like a child."

Nabokov's interviews are biographically & philosophically enlightening (although he calls himself a writer without social intent), often hilarious, & always poetical. Since yesterday I've been walking around repeating "Loll-LEE-ta" & "Vla-DEE-mir Na-BOH-kov" - if I will actually exhibit my newfound comprehension of such "proper" pronunciations is indefinite. If you can stand to not be thrown off by his rather charming arrogance, I highly recommend the aptly titled "Strong Opinions."

Just a thought - being also a gifted lepidopterist he makes me wonder how many great poets we've lost to the fastidious world of science.



"Do you know how poetry started? I always think that it started when a cave boy came running back to the cave, through the tall grass, shouting as he ran, "Wolf, wolf," and there was no wolf. His baboon-like parents, great sticklers for the truth, gave him a hiding, no doubt, but poetry had been born - the tall story had been born in the tall grass."


"There is John Shade in Pale Fire, the poet. He does borrow some of my own opinions. There is one passage in his poem, which is part of the book, where he says something I think I can endorse. He says - let me quote it, if I can remember; yes, I think I can do it: "I loathe such things as jazz, the white-hosed moron torturing a black bull, rayed with red, abstractist bric-a-brac, primitivist folk masks, progressive schools, music in supermarkets, swimming pools, brutes, bores, class-conscious philistines, Freud, Marx, fake thinkers, puffed-up poets, frauds and sharks." That's how it goes."



"IN ANSWER TO THE QUESTION: WHAT SCENES ONE WOULD LIKE TO HAVE FILMED

Shakespeare in the part of the King's Ghost.
The beheading of Louis the Sixteenth, the drums drowning his speech on the scaffold.
Herman Melville at breakfast, feeding a sardine to his cat.
Poe's wedding. Lewis carroll's picnics.
The Russians leaving Alaska, delighted with the deal.
Shot of a seal applauding."


Lolita - Throw Me The Statue

stand over there

I was thinking today how incredible it would be if I could just somehow receive all new music completely filtered of reviews & ratings; what they're called & what they wear.

Don't look at me like that - you've judged a band by its album cover too.


Christian pop + Country = Soul - Pitchfork

but hey! not a problem

Approaching the front door you eye the note taped on the mailbox that reads: "If you need the keys - they're in the mailbox."


All that & he didn't even bother to lock the door.

throwbacks/already?

Two summers ago, Paperweight came down & could potentially have slapped seventeen-year-old me across the face - instead it drew up the bedsheets & sang me to sleep on repeat, repeatedly.

Joshua Radin "Paperweight" at the Last Kiss premiere