Calendar. I know the Incas had one and the impulse to keep track of time may be a basic instinct. Why? Why does anybody want to keep track? The reminders are omnipresent. Everything around you takes care of the time telling. Seasons, growth, decay, fatigue, sunset, hunger, sustenance, sunrise, waves, and squalls. Those are the elemental calendar. I could never get past that. Through school I could never tell what class was up next without looking at the list. The calendar was for getting me on the same page as everyone else. I still need constant reminders and my day is sealed up tight with the responsibilities of parenthood and the things I need to do to keep so many boats afloat. I think that is what the list is for. It binds people already bound to the same place to the rest of the package. The place is not enough. A culture is built on doing things together and that requires “the list”. Some celebrate it. I usually endure it. Begrudgingly I accept its value. There is a dialectic (sorry to use that word) of value in my struggles against “the list”. In it I realize the bi-product of wasted time. This is where all fresh ideas exist. Wasted time is written in lemon juice in the margins of the calendar. Place it over a hot light bulb and another dimension is revealed. It happens to you when you rebel against what is written in the legislated areas. These are the small gray countries on the map that have not been designated colours just yet. On the map of South America Peru may be pink. Chile is green. The first country north into Central America is “grayed out”. It is not one of the “focus countries”. This is where you must go for the exotic ripe fruit. Everyone else is picking from the trees in what appears to be the lush pink and green. The gray area is beyond the border into indiscipline. Discipline yields guaranteed results but indiscipline beckons like the all night Casino next to the hotel on the fifth night of the lonely business trip. All things random and spectacular can be mined in the gray area. So here’s to celebrating the love hate relationship with the clock and the calendar. There are secret months within the legislated years. Here’s to more of those in the coming 2003. Here’s to a big fat year with extra time spilling out the sides for us all to enjoy.
Game show life summaries. The game show host asks the contestant to say a little bit about their lives. They choose something that the audience might find interesting. Never more than a couple of sentences. This is meant to encapsulate all that this person is about. I would definitely have to say, “Yes Alex I’m a cannibal from a small town in Canada that prides itself on recycling and making the most of the generations that have gone before us. I like to collect old raffle tickets and levitate. My penis is actually one of my legs and one of my legs has been removed because I got hungry. I like my shoes to have soft insoles and I walk like I make love”.
Why would you miss your chance?
BLUES FLASH!
Sharkskin will be appearing at the annual "Blues for Christmas" bash on the 28th of December at the Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver. All proceeds to ...I think.. .the Empty Stocking Fund. All local and national rhythm & blues luminaries will be there.
Oh yeah...I'll be with Colin James & the LBB in Niagara Falls for New years Eve. My pals Treble Charger are also on the bill. Colin's band will include Pat Steward AND Doug Elliott (both ex-Odds). We'll be right beside the falls on the Canadian side ...outdoors.
IMPORTANT!!!!
I'll be performing with my power trio:
January 15th: Open Mike with Mike Bullard CTV
January 16th: the 360, Queen Street W, Toronto
January 17th: the Black Sheep, Wakefield/Ottawa
January 18th TBA Onatrio
PLEASE COME. I want to have fun.
Well...how was it? Ours was excellent. All Christmas scenarios played out really well. We milked the day for all it was worth and our excesses were familiar and comfortable. For west coasters we had the privilege of enjoying a snowy Christmas day by driving to our family’s mountain hideout. Mountain hideouts are a really good idea. Hideaways of any description are becoming more and more necessary. Its nice to feel warm with your back to the wall of the cave and your belly full of berries. No telephone number anyone knows. Ever the pragmatists my family bequeathed me a new black snowboard helmet. My tendency to stretch my moves beyond the limits of my skills or my physical limitations is legendary in these tight circles. Although this has led to an accident prone childhood and some time off work I hold to the idea that this is a positive attribute. I think it indicates a tendency to live in my own version of the present. This is a present where I see myself as stronger than I actually am. This applies mostly to the world of physical activity but can work its way into artistic realms. I will take on a new job or task I know nothing about and think I can figure out a way to get through it. Then I will suffer spectacular failure or solar flares of success. I have learned that my version of failure differs from the perception of the audience. Where I think I have done shit work others have had high praise. Where I thought I shone others merely sighed or yawned. All the music I love tends to sell in the hundreds or thousands. In my mind they are massive hits. Every time I have heard something on the radio and said, “that is the worst piece of crap I’ve ever heard” -- immediately it is a real life smash hit. I’ve tried to find the sweet spot between these realities. I love the hits that made it through the eye of the needle without anyone detecting their unique and subversive elements. I find if I work against my instincts I achieve perfect blandness. I guess if your heart isn’t in it you’re sunk. Problem is my heart IS in it. I want to be understood. I don’t want to be some snotty niche player passing judgment from a dark corner. I still think the radio will be amazing after the revolution. I think people keep giving me chances because I’m, “almost there all the time”. I’ll find it. I’ll find the way to make the “sell out” feel like the “buy in”. Today is a good day. Air is crisp and the snow is soft and my version of the present feels like it fits with the people around me.
Office Party. Oxymoron? As a continuation of the last posting it is interesting to note that the holiday season is at its most politically complex when slicing a sociological cross section from the “office party”. If the human elements of compassion, honesty, and charity are wrung from the business world then forced fraternization with clients and work mates becomes more interesting. I’m not suggesting that this is true in all cases but it is true in a lot of cases. From one angle the partier is operating under the notion that there may be benefits to a Christmas shmooze. Henderson might surrender that fat contract if he is plied with eggnog and complimented on his golf swing. “Networking” is up there with “morale boosting” in the christmas party top two. For the employer the “morale boosting” component works two ways. They come off looking like “friends” who are doing their bit for “the family” and the staff get drunk with each other which is a big part of “team building”. Confidences are built and betrayed. Asses are photocopied. Shoes go missing. Someone has a co-worker in a headlock bawling “I love you man” and “this is for your own good Randy”. The overlords dispense jovial toilet humour. This is “team building”. Once you have shared real human secrets it is possible to be blackmailed. This increases forward momentum because dissent is more dangerous. The bosses observe, gather secrets and get in and out quickly. The proportion of actual Christmas spirit involved in the throwing of a Christmas party can be measured by the number of significant firings perpetrated after, or just prior to, the holiday season. This is a wholly cynical perspective that has only its toe in the murky waters of the truth but . . . it was born from the musician’s perspective of a “corporate gig”.
I’ve been to many a staff christmas party that was a genuine bonding experience and a real barn burner to boot. I have seen genuinely great employers heap gratitude on their employes with these functions. I’m not talking about those people or those situations. Choreographed corporate functions are different. Organized “fun”. Office party. The Odds never got hired for corporate gigs. These are the big money makers that can make a tour actually pay off. I don’t know how many people know this but most bands lose large amounts of money on the road when they are trying to build a career. Once they are “branded” and their names have reached the kitchens of the continent then corporations come clamouring to rub themselves up against their cool caché. They pay big money to have name artists play at their private, oftentimes secret functions. Lets face it. The Odds were a bunch of wise asses who would treat this type of situation with very little legislated decorum. Our music was not appropriate (at the time) and we said no to most all offers of corporate sponsorship. That was fashionable then. Except the time we went to Europe and did six gigs that were sponsored by a cigarette company. Not so bad when you considered everyone in the audience smoked and the band didn’t. We went looking for a corporate sponsor that would actually do some good. AIDS had become a wider threat and started claiming the lives of those around us so we asked our lawyer to approach Trojan condoms about the idea of sponsoring a rock band. I think I still have the letter saying that it would be inappropriate for a condom manufacturer to target youth at this point and that sponsoring rock bands was not something they felt ready for. Bad timing was an Odds forté. I think you could get a free condom in Spin magazine the next year and my friends Wide Mouth Mason have actually toured in a bus decorated to approximate a giant Durex sheath. The cigarette and beer industry eventually swallowed all the promoters in the world and bands had no choice but to drink up or die. Smoke’em if you got’em. Now you’re nobody unless you actually appear in the TV ads playing yourself singing a jingle you wrote especially for beer, clothes or soda pop. How stupid could we be? Our manager once scrawled NO! in giant Sharpied letters across a proposal from a huge beer giant to use one of our songs in a TV campaign. A month after he’d faxed it back to them they came out with a beer that used the name of the song as its handle. We were throwbacks to a generation that never existed. All ethical corporations please come forward and claim your spokesmodel/singer/songwriter. Come and take me.
Our alter ego the Dawn Patrol would play lavish office parties before they were called corporate gigs and I’ve played the odd one in more recent situations. They are the hardest thing to play because none of the audience has chosen for you to be there. If you go to hear your favourite band then you arrive with sparkling enthusiasm. Not so in these situations. The guy watching might be the guy who has made hating your band his favourite sport. One woman might be the person who has decided to skip all music by people in your “category”. I’m even convinced that some of the people have chosen not to have stereos at home. They are there by the grace of their obligations to increase the profit share. I haven’t done one of these functions where at least one person hasn’t been standing in full view of the stage scowling with fingers plunged deeply into their ear holes. Indifference or polite toe tapping on beats 1 & 3 are the norm. The Stones and Bob Dylan do these things on a regular basis. I believe the Stones recently played someone’s birthday party and Microsoft can have anyone they want at anytime. I guess a gig is a gig and a million dollars is a million dollars. Can you imagine what would be going through Bob Dylan’s mind at the time he was onstage? He could change all the lyrics and melodies and nobody would even notice. Wait . . .he does that anyway.
The great Vancouver session singer Joani Bye (Del Shannon, INXS, Cher, David Bowie, etc) was over yesterday to sing on the Bob Kemmis record we’re making. She was describing her most recent experience at a corporate Christmas caroling gig. She said, “It was the usual bunch of people doing their best to pretend you weren’t there”. We started talking about how it seemed that some folks were completely freaked out by people actually singing and smiling in a place where business usually takes place. Terrifying. The human element is out of its element. Perverse logic must be applied. Is this akin to earnest 4H Club members raising their little calves? They name them, groom them, nurture them and talk to them. After they win a ribbon for their animal husbandry the cow is taken away for a quick murdering and cut up into little bits for its flesh to be burned and eaten by strangers, friends or family. This is supposed to make perfect sense as humans are toughened up for those rocky “real life” experiences ahead. I know this is natural but it seems so unnatural. Writing, recording and performing the songs that come from your deep inner well is the raising of the downy soft calf. The corporate gig is the bar-b-q. The vegetarians are either outnumbered or give in and take a bite when the other vegetarians aren’t looking. We all have to eat. There is always a radio on in the workplace.
Every human emotion seems to be on a hair trigger around this time. The Christmas burden is overwhelming and if you’re already taxed to your limit then all the festive niceties can really grind against you. That said. A lot of temporary good is achieved. People treated each other differently after those planes hit the twin towers. That should have been a forever thing just as the Christmas (holiday season) warmth shouldn’t just last a couple of weeks. The 911 sensitivity wasn’t a forever thing and by January 3rd the holiday warmth will be replaced by blood doping, trip wires and oil slick cannons employed in the rat race. One must get the advantage required to cool down the molten credit card. This “back to business” portion lasts the rest of the year with a two day break for thanksgiving. Each year we look for a new way to keep the spirit up and the pressure down. A viagara for the soul. We are successful in varying degrees. The more you do things your own way at Christmastime the better your chances of extending the mirth. You can give more if it isn’t all compressed into “standard giving units”. These “S.G.U.’s” are sometimes called “presents”. Presents are a form of gift. They are quantifiable and can be had for barter, credit or cash. The giving of large presents is meant to help quantify the measure of one’s devotion. This is, of course, absurd. Before I get into the subtext of “the Grinch” I will conclude that this should be the message. I haven’t sent cards. I haven’t really got the “S.G.U’s” in gear yet. I do however have the spirit today and I’m going to try to keep it up. When I get patches of it during the year I will do my best to wear a Santa hat. On those days people will know to come and get their love. Come and get your love anyway even if the hat isn't on. I want to wish everyone a great Boxing Day. As some of you know this is my favourite holiday of the year. I still have not attended a “sale” as that works against the entire premise of the day. Kick back, box up all the good stuff you don’t need and give it to someone who would like it. watch happy kids play with their S.G.U’s. Lie around with the people you usually lie around with. Christmas is over and the soft afterglow is engulfing everything. The pressure is off and we can at least pretend the rats are asleep .
This space is dedicated to Bob Brennan. Father of my dear chum Paul (Odds). Bob died last week after a lengthy illness and the service was held this Friday. Its the worst situation in which to get together with friends but it happens and friends can help. The service was a Catholic mass and I will do my best not to mention again and again what a weird and indecipherable pageant that is. As far as I can see it involves feigned cannibalism, medieval garb, child labour, and severely distorted metaphors. There was a lot of memorization involved in the interactive element of the performance so not being raised Catholic meant you couldn’t really participate in the same way. The Jewish faith has so many great jokes and places such value in humour as a complex and intelligent force. Not so with the orthodox christian ceremonies. Paul’s brother Danny attempted to balance this lack of humour. He spoke about his dad after all the hailing and “praise be to’s” were done. There was a simple truth conveyed in his hilarious and moving tribute. Generosity works. If you embrace and support the passions of your children, whatever they may be, you will win in the end. Bob and Dorothy’s kids are drummers, hockey players, hairdressers, parents, mountain climbers, and teachers. Each one of them went a different way and they all did well at what they chose to do. I only know Paul well but I bet every one of them is as stubbornly dedicated to their singular purpose. This can really save you when having to take heat. Bob & Dott put the responsibility for motivation on the child and then provided whatever they needed when they asked. Some parents resist this because they feel that things might come too easily to the kid. If its just toys then that’s a different story. If you can muster the resources shouldn’t the tools to accomplish a goal be handed over right away? If things change in the child’s direction and they later drop what they were doing then you only lost on a very worthy investment. You’ll win on the next one or the next one. Thanks for the tip Bob. Not only did you do a fine job of the most important things...as a bonus you were the life of the party.
Stop the car. I’m getting out and walking. I ain’t mad its just a beautiful night. Not angry at all but slamming doors just for the glorious sound. You feel the toe of my shoe up your ass because its a way to touch you in an erogenous zone and avoid regular intimacy. I flipped channels at the peak of the program because I worry about your blood pressure. I am wearing only a thong to the Tupperware party because it is comfortable and their house is always so hot. I threw the dish at you to keep your reflexes toned in such an unstable geopolitical time. Spray painting huge genitalia on that Teletubbies billboard will teach the kids the validity of all types of artistic expression. I go to jail in an effort to adapt to all difficult situations. I demean you for the same reasons. Do you believe me?
Throw that white mustang into the curves. I asked for an economy car and they were all out. I received the complimentary upgrade to middle aged America’s 5 liter wet dream. In the spirit of always using something to the full extent of its intended function I put the sucker to a week long durability test. It will get rubber in reverse quite easily. The turning radius sucks but if you’re going fast enough it isn’t so much a factor. The stereo will not make a Bolton CD sound better but I suspect a lot of Bolton gets airtime in those cockpits. This is speculation since I mostly listened to freakish talk radio. Sometimes the automatic trunk opener has a mind of its own. If the trunk is open while you drive it can aid in the downward force on the rear wheels. If you’re inside a car long enough you eventually forget what you look like from the outside -- Farah Fawcett. If its dark . . . even better. Its best to find some way to enjoy the best parts of everything. Sure I wouldn’t be caught dead buying that car but I don’t always have to be me. I’m in touch with my inner Fawcett.
In LA and spending my creative energy on the short verse put to music. I guess that's playing on my strengths? Over 30 years old...this is the way. I'm open to new tricks but I'm starting to understand the knee jerk parts of myself. I can see where my instincts are going to take me before they take me there. This is either double encrypted ESP or a deep rut in the road. I think this "gift" was bestowed upon me yesterday or the day before. Not knowing myself at all might have been a better option. A couple of drinks and I'll be back to the day before yesterday anyway. I could lose this power and not feel like I lost anything. It may parallel the secret ability to see through bathroom doors. Fun for a day and then you find out something you really didn't need to find out. The German's usually have a word for things like this. They must have a one word name for "a magical skill that you wish you never had". Maybe it sounds something like "Geshundefaut" . My geshundefaut can get in the way of pure thought. It predisposes me to think I will come up with the wrong idea before I even road test the first idea. Geshundefaut is the enemy of pure anlmal cunning. A cheetah has no geshundefaut. Wait ...it could be that the cheetah does suffer if, maybe, the water buffalo appears just too big and mean. The cheetah would override its instinct to strike when geshundefaut says, "he's too big and today you don't want to get blood on your pretty spots". Cheetah resents this overriding voice when the pangs of hunger accelerate into sundown and there's no time left for smaller prey. Double encrypted ESP appears as second guessing. The upside is when this type of geshundefaut appears as a way out. It allows you to construct quick excuses that are totally plausible. You have a solid alibi in place before the petty crime is even fully conceived. Perhaps this will lead to opportunities in script writing for cop shows.
Felt a little haunted. I wanted to leave you out of it. Sometimes its just best to clam up and take your brooding into the dark corner while the party rages around you. You’re the child with the flu lying in an upstairs bed listening to the distant clinking of plates and cadences of laughter into garbled dialogue and back to laughter. The sweet and savory smells of cooking only turn your stomach. You wonder why they have not chosen to suffer with you. How could they have fun when you feel so bad? Its on the mellowing side of the bad acid now. Hope has finally shown up late for the game. The fresh legs are appreciated but the team still harbours resentment for being compromised against such heavy guns. Spirit come OUT!