Movement

90% successful. The remaining ten percent shall be dealt with tomorrow.

Oh, Tetris!

...playing you all those years was not a waste of time after all...

Cycles

I met Poison about ten years ago. Old Band had recently released a 7", and this little girl (no exaggeration) came up to me after one of our shows and asked me if we would sign her copy. We weren't used to such rock star treatment, but this shy little kid seemed so earnestly impressed with us, how could we say no?

Old Band became friends with a lot of people much younger than us, and some of those friendships have lasted right up until today. Eventually, Poison and I co-founded GS with Ube and last night we released a 7" of our own. And didn't a guy in the audience come up to Poison, now in her early 20s, and ask her to sign his record.

The irony wasn't lost on us. It made me feel kind of... grandfatherly. Not in a bad way though.

Released Into The Wild

The record hit the streets tonight. We played a release show under sort of stressful circumstances. I wasn't sure how we'd go over with the bar movers-and-shakers, or the regs. We needed a big crowd to make an impression, and considering the vast number of shows happening tonight, I think we got one. I was 100% ready to get up there and haul ass to the store and back again. Things only snowballed once we got it going.

I was happy with our set. I felt "in the zone" several times. I felt like we were not so much "throwing", but "pitching". We've mastered playing the songs. Now we can use our powers for good. Really work the paintbrush instead of just flicking it at the canvas.

I did a stage jump in a spot better suited to a more diminutive member of the band and whacked my head on the low ceiling. I guess it's quite a gash, but I haven't had a look at it yet. It smarted at the time, but not now. It sure would have been wild looking if I had really hurt myself. But I'm not about to hurt myself just to look cool.

Our split-mates did an amazing set. I felt bad that they were so pressed for time at the end, but we actually noodled around less than usual this time. I think it was beyond our control. SB = awesome.

Afterward, a 13-person posse hit up an all-night restaurant for some grease (except for DMC, who had a mushroom-and-tomato-contaminated spinach salad). Fun times, great conversation. Everybody's jokes were funny. A swell night by any standard.

Anytime I Want I Got A Right To Move - No Matter What They Say

Yeah, except I've really dropped the ball here. I justified it with "it'll be ok, my stuff is in storage". I can't live in storage though.

I had a line on a place, but that line is getting more tenuous by the day. This proves my theory that just because you don't want to do something does not mean you shouldn't do it anyway.

...And The Headlines Shall Read 'Foolishness Bitten In Ass By Karma'

Made a good haul at RF$$ last week. Tonight, non-improv band #3 hit the stage for the first time ever. LD encouraged me to spin the wheel, which I did. And I won!

Won a faceful of fettucine.

Ok world, we're even on the RF$$ thing.

Important Moments In Canadian Cinema

High (1968), dir. Larry Kent
Goin' Down The Road (1970), dir. Donald Shebib
Last Night (1998), dir. Don McKellar
Atanarjuat: the Fast Runner (2001), dir. Zacharias Kunuk
The Rocket (2005), dir. Charles Binamé

With the exception of Last Night, I recommend these films for their historical significance as much as being good movies. Last Night is just a great film, history be damned. I've never identified more with a lead character.

Idio(t)syncracies

I just noticed that the vast majority of my blog enteries open with a reference to time. Including this one.

My Drumming

Recently I received a compliment on my drumming from an artist I have tremendous respect for. This meant a lot. I don't think about what I'm doing when I play. I just try and pound the hell out of the things. Here's an allegorical story to describe how I think I play.

*********************************************************************************
There's a guy at a party who's been acting weird, very nervous and fidgety. People around him are starting to wonder if he's "on something", and not just the standard fare. He's being saying weird shit all night, and it's getting weirder. The dude's kinda funny, actually.

Now he's running around a lot and he's really hyper. He's out of control, but people still find it funny. He tears up the stairs, onto the roof of the very tall building where the party is happening. A few curious onlookers follow him up. Might be good for a chuckle.

On the roof, his talk has become crazy. He's saying things like how he's the king of the world. How he killed God, and now he's the new God. How he's invincible, and was going to prove it by flying.

This is just an absolute lark to everyone around the guy. Until they notice that he's taken off all his clothes and is very near the edge of the building. Now it's starting to not be so funny. He's pacing around like a caged animal, taking bigger and bigger strides, talking louder and crazier like he's building toward some dangerous climax.

A couple of the watchers on the roof try and convince him to come back downstairs, but his violent reaction quickly convinces them that the situation is out of hand. Two guys try to lead him to safety, but he struggles as if they were trying to take his life. He seems to have acquired superhuman strength, and they're unable to subdue him. He's dragging them with him, closer and closer to the edge of the building.

A girl watching this scene is terrified and screams for help from the people downstairs. A number of guys appear on the scene and help subdue the frenzied party-goer. It takes no less than eight of them to drag him back down the stairs. He's screaming threats to destroy the universe with a swipe of his hand. How he's going to kill every one of them and rip out their entrails with his bare hands.

The captors are able to force him into a room with no windows. They throw him on the floor and quickly lock the door behind him. He is pounding frantically on the door, trying to get out. The people at the party feel afraid. They prop large pieces of furniture against the door.

For the next hour, the people hear from behind the door sounds of human misery they have not experienced. His screams are incoherent. He is obviously in tremendous physical and mental agony. It sounds as if he is smashing everything in the room.

Eventually the sounds stop. Some quiet sobbing is heard before the locked room goes silent. No one can sleep.

Morning comes. The people outside move the furniture and open the door to see if their friend is ok.

The room is a scene of complete destruction. Everything in it has been smashed. There are dozens of blood-smeared holes in the wall. The friend is alive, starting to come to. He is calm. His body is badly broken from what he had put himself through. He does not seem to be bleeding, yet there is blood everywhere. Shards of glass and porcelain protrude visibly from all parts of his body. There is a massive, oozing wound at the centre of his forehead. His feet are covered in blood. His hands are bloody and disfigured, and if he had punched a solid object long after the point of bones breaking. One of the girls starts to cry when she sees him.

He looks up at the group, unable to show much emotion.

"I guess I got kind of fucked up last night, huh?"

*********************************************************************************

Anyway, that's what I think my drumming is like. And it's a typical example of the type of thing I think about at work.

Montréal

Perhaps my favorite city of all those I've been to (an admittedly small number) - a place I enjoy visiting regularly. I've been there often enough that I have a pretty good idea how I prefer to enter the city. That would be Pont Champlain. It's as good a starting point as any if you're arriving from the south, landing between centre-ville and NDG. Really, any of the bridges are fine, but that's the one I usually go for. The Lafontaine Tunnel is my least favorite point of entry, one I try to avoid because it lets you off in a part of Montréal I'm not that interested in exploring. Sherbrooke St takes forever to navigate.

The approaches to the city can be confusing, at least to me. Coming off a 12 hour drive, all I really want to do is get on the island. There are a lot of ways to go about this, some better than others. So many lanes, so many roads, so many bridges. I just wanna get there, yet not by any means necessary. I've had times where I've ended up on the wrong bridge because I didn't watch what I was doing 2 or 3km back. Things are easier when I can anticipate what I need to do long in advance, and then get in the right lane.

Internet Anxiety

Sometimes sitting at a computer starts to wear on my brain. It can literally make me feel sick to my stomach. I'm looking forward to living in a different place. I'm also looking forward to sleeping before heading to the One World tonight. I think I have an unnatural enjoyment of sleep.

Different Ego Strokes

A musician can reach a point where he or she "rocks out" too much when they're playing. Where the audience just goes "oh, brother". I've seen this happen. GS played with a band once where this one guy really exaggerated everything he did up there. It was comical. Such things can be done with a sense of irony, but we all know the line between ironic posturing and just "posturing" can be blurry.

GS and BB played a party last night, for some friends who just got married. It was a busy week and GS could not practice, but I think we did alright. The stage was small, but unstable. The drum kit wobbled on the shakey floor... not a good thing, if you've seen us play. I think we've played better, but it was certainly not a write off.

BB on the other hand did one of our best sets ever. We opened with a cover by the married couple's band (the more gentle of the two they're in together), which hopefully was a pleasant surprise for somebody. I think we played it well, despite the contrast in styles. We didn't stop between songs, no strings broke, everything was tight and I swung my guitar around a lot. I didn't feel like the audience was into it though. Looking back, this makes me feel some anxiety about rocking out onstage. At the time though, I didn't care.

Then I got in the car and rushed to the radio station to do my show. I was only 4 minutes late, but Ube was in control of the situation.

How To Get Nothing Done And Feel No Guilt

It's simple. Just try to do everything at once. Then write about it in a blog.

Birthday

Tonight I checked out LH's birthday bash at a local tavern. She wore a tiara, and rock and roll bands played. A good crowd of people showed up, and fun times were had. LH was enjoying it all, and why not? A person's birthday is their day, and they should be able to enjoy it as they see fit.

I have my own ideas on what to do for my birthday, and they're pretty different from the above. I'm a very modest person, and I don't like to be the center of unwanted attention. I stress unwanted. Trying to get people's attention and succeeding is a wonderful thing. But being the recipient of attention I don't want is something that infuriates me. This is why I don't allow people to do things for my birthday. The best gift you can give me on this day is to leave me alone (you probably won't have a choice - see below). My birthday isn't important to me, and I demand that it not be important to anyone I know. Is that so much to ask?

It is to some people. They insist on giving me stupid cards, etc. Stop it. If you absolutely MUST acknowledge this day to me, just do it verbally and move on. I don't want any cards, food, presents or parties. I want NOTHING. Anything else will piss me the fuck off.

Maybe someone out there is thinking "Oh, Ash. There you go being coy again. We know you really love all that birthday stuff". Well think again, bozo. Below I will illustrate some examples of what I have done for my past few birthdays. You'll start to see a pattern.

1998 - S'toon, SK - My first summer away from home. I knew no one. It worked out fine, and I liked it.

1999 - S'toon, SK - I have a friend in that town with a birthday the day before my own (same year). I thought that was kind of neat, so we decided to bond over it with some other friends. The plan was for a couple carloads of us to go see a movie at the drive-in, but it just ended up being my friend and I because no one else showed up. Just two dudes in a car watching a cartoon at the drive-in.

It was time to take control of the situation.

2000 - Hx, NS - My feeling now was that my birthday should be all about me, which meant no one else would be allowed to get involved. I woke up, got on my bike and pedaled many miles around the local harbour/basin/outlying suburban areas. It was a weekend, and this took all day. No one could get me. I loved it.

2001 - Hx, NS - I had to work on this day. People at my work have this habit of filling each other's desks with cards and presents on their birthdays. I had, in passing, mentioned that this was not necessary with me but my hint was ignored. My way of evening the score was to bring in a cake the next day, for them - with an explanation that their generosity was appreciated, but NOT NECESSARY.

Some still ignore my request for birthday anonymity. Rather than tell them to fuck off and probably get fired, I throw the shit in a drawer and don't even look at it. Then when the people who gave it to me aren't looking, I throw it all in the garbage. I mean fucking business. To make things less awkward, I now book my birthday off, every year. In 2001 I burned off my frustration by going on another marathon bike ride after work. I had a profound sense that I needed to send a very clear message to the world that I want to be left the fuck alone on this day. So...

2002 - Yellowknife, NWT - In 2002 I went to great lengths to avoid the annual hassle. I loaded my bike onto an airplane and flew to the Northwest Territories. I stayed in a campground and had very little human contact for about four days. Except for the guy who threatened to kill me my last night there. That was my first time camping, ever. I biked around and saw pretty much everything there was to see in this small sub-arctic town. It's a neat little place, but holy mosquitos! On my birthday I did pretty much nothing except bike and take photos. At one point I went to a library and e-mailed my mom. I remember basically forgetting what day it was. No one around me knew. It was awesome.

2003 - Queens Co., NS - This is a long story but I'll be brief. I enjoyed the camping trip from the previous year, but I thought it might be more fun with fewer people threatening to kill me. I booked a cabin in Keji about 17 km back in the woods. There was a trail that was passable by bike. I thought I could get there in two hours, and left that much time before sundown, but no more. Close but no cigar. The sun went down, and I couldn't find the cabin. I dropped off my bike and heavy backpack to go searching for it along the shore of a lake. That didn't work, and it got so dark I couldn't find my stuff. Then it started to rain. I didn't even have a flashlight - just the clothes I was wearing and a bicycle helmet. I ended up huddling under a rock and turned around whenever the side of me facing the wind got too cold. To put it very mildly, I did not get much sleep. I looked at my watch every 15 minutes, and the song "Hunters And Collectors" by Can was stuck in my head for roughly 7 hours. Near the end, my mind started playing tricks on me. There were imaginary bears all around. Anytime anything moved - bear. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I moved down to the shore and sat on a rock until the sun was high enough in the sky that I could go and search for my stuff. Having done so, I began the 2 hour bike ride (sans sleep, food or water) back to the car. You'd think this would be an awful, gruelling memory... and you'd be right. That said, I experienced thoughts and perceptions during the ride back which I had not had before, nor since. I felt very creative. In my head as I biked, I formed a pop punk band called the Dunkelmans. I wrote about ten songs, all of which I forgot not long after leaving the woods. I remember writing a song about Yao Ming. Whatever.

The drive back to the city was the real gruelling part. I almost crashed the car about a hundred times. I drank nasty chain-coffee. I was totally fucked up. But in a weird way it was one of the greatest birthdays ever.

2004 - Queens Co., NS - In 2003, Keji had defeated me - but this defeat would be avenged. I got right back on the bike and did the whole thing all over again. I left myself more time to find the cabin, a strategy which proved successful. The cabin was basic but nice. Better than a rock. It gets really dark back there, which is kind of freaky. I cooked dinner and breakfast over an open fire. I read a good book, and the newspaper. I took some photos. Absolutely everything went right, and the bike ride back to the car was uneventful. I didn't hallucinate about the Dunkelmans, although I did have "Ticket To Ride" stuck in my head for the duration.

2005 - Hx, NS - There had been a pattern of lonerdom over the past few years, but in the summer of 2005 I was in a relationship, so the rules changed a little. Girlfriends can do whatever they want for my birthday. This day was quite a bit more civilized than the last few, but our main activity provided just as much escape as my camping trips. At the same time, it was more human-centered. We spent much of the day watching my ex-gf's younger sister participate in a track meet for the Special Olympics. My ex was worried that I'd find this a boring way to spend my birthday, but the opposite was true. I knew I was unlikely to run into people I know, so that was good. I had a sense of anonymity too. Plus, I got a glimpse into a part of society I haven't had much exposure to, and it was actually pretty cool. The kids participating were really pumped for each event. It was fun and strangely liberating to be a part of. A very different take on the birthday escape, but one I won't forget.

2006 - Well... I'll be about two weeks removed from an escape of another kind, so I may not be in the mood for an epic adventure. I do have the day off work though. I'm sure I'll go somewhere and have some peace.

Dancin' & Drivin'

If I'm ok to dance, I'm probably not ok to drive.

If I'm ok to drive, I'm probably not ok to dance.

Problems

I'm very thankful I've never gotten involved with cigarettes or hard drugs. It's tough to be unable to stop destroying your body and mind because you're spinning out of control. Maybe that's a brash statement, but today was a rough day at work and all I could think about was drinking my face off when I got home. I consider drinking a much less destructive thing than the aforementioned. That said, it's a very helpless feeling to be out of control and hell bent on doing something unhealthy.

Somehow, things worked out so that I'm not going to drink tonight. I had a pleasant conversation on the way home from work that defused the scary crossed wires that were making me see red. That's all it took to right the ship.

I'm very lucky. I could be dealing with substances far more merciless than alcohol.

Just Ask

Tonight I'm going to see a movie about the history of heavy metal. I was going to ask somebody to go with me. I had the chance to do so, but I dropped the ball. Now it looks like I'm going by myself.

The moral of this story is if you want to ask somebody to a movie about heavy metal, you'd better just ask them. Or else you might have to go by yourself.

People Don't Usually Blog As Much On Sundays

This is just something I've noticed.

Get It On Tape

Several years ago, when digital recording technology was not yet within reach of the average shit-job-working consumer, I bought a Yamaha MT-50 four-track recorder.


At last, the mysteries of track-by-track recording would be revealed! I got to work right away learning how to use it. The first song I ever recorded was me doing a pop-punk version of the theme to Let's Go, a Canadian kids' show from the 70s that very few readers of this blog will have seen (I bet Gary remembers).

The main use of this machine at first was to demo songs I wanted my pop-garage band at the time to learn. I'd haul my shitty drum kit (the remains of which GS still uses today, minus a few parts) into my tiny bedroom, hook up the cheap mics I'd bought and let 'er rip. Once I got confident doing this, I started to offer my services to other bands. The timing was good because ger was talking about releasing a comp of local bands, none of which had the resources to go into studios. I worked for free and would drive anywhere to record. As far as Porter's Lake, even.

I ended up recording 7 or 8 bands for this comp, and was pretty proud of the results. Looking back, the recording quality was not stellar, but no one had high standards back then. Something was better than nothing. I like that attitude a lot!

Over the years I've tried doing some full-set live recordings. I did one of S-Party playing in Woodside... one of BL13 playing their final show ever in this province... there might have been another. I did some work on the Oh God demo (which remains unreleased pending long overdue [my fault] vocal redos), but other than that, the four-track has been largely dormant over the past few years. I've been timid about offering to record bands during this time because people's standards for sound are so much higher than they were ten years ago. It's fairly easy to get a very good sounding recording now, which it wasn't then. My technology has stayed the same (although I can and will record digitally now). I'd hate to really bust my ass to make a recording sound as good as I can, only to have it trashed by everybody. Hey, I'm a sensitive guy.

Then, I heard LA/LP/AR's band and I knew I had to bust the machine out of semi-retirement. This simply had to be documented. With vocals, casio and drums being the only sounds made, surely I could do them justice... if not in a studio setting, then live. Live recordings are expected to sound a little rougher, so my ass would be covered that way. Heh heh.

We chose their non-RF$$ debut for a time to record - basically their first gig ever. The only trouble was, my own band was playing at a different venue immediately before. I'd have no more than half an hour to tear down my own band's stuff, grab the mics and four-track, get to the other venue, set up, sound check and hit record. It was a tall order.

I enlisted the help of recording student prodigy AV (not to be confused with A/V). I untangled the mics, and she set them up. We did this very, very quickly. Despite the band not taking up much space, there was zero room on stage, and the comfort level was not high. I have to sit by the four-track when it records, because track one was rendered wonky in a freak cord-tripping accident during the making of the Juveniles' 1997 demo (which may be the best recording I've ever done...soooo good). The cord entering track one now has to be held to the left at all times or it will cut out.

Another thing about wonky track one... at the show I'd forgotten there is one cord I own which that input just doesn't like... so it didn't work at all and we ended up with a three-track recording. Still, it doesn't sound half bad. The band was pleased, and they posted songs from that show on the internet.

Reaction was mostly favorable, but one person criticized the sound quality. I'm not offended, but let me say this: when a band asks me to record I make my limitations clear to them. These are as follows: I own shitty mics, none of which is less than ten years old or cost more than $20; if the recording is live in front of an audience, I don't care about bleed; I don't know much about mic placement, and even if I did I don't know what difference it would make with such low quality equipment; and this is being done on a ten year old four track. So the band knew all this, and asked me anyway. To use another transportation metaphor: my recordings are like bicycles in the age of the SUV. You don't use one to haul heavy things or drive over huge piles of dirt (what else is an SUV good for?)... you use one to get across town without the hassles of paying for parking and gas. No, the bike cannot haul your yacht to the dock. Bands I record don't own yachts. Metaphorically.

I was happy with the ClamSeals session. It reinstilled my confidence about recording, especially live bands. As it happened, I was approached by another band to do a similar job soon after. This project would be a little more ambitious, involving two keyboards, a glockenspiel, and accordion, bass, drums and vocals. But we did it, and I think it sounds great.

Make Fun Not War

I've been playing in local bands for about 15 years, and going to shows for a little more. There have been two distinct high points in the music scene for me during that time: roughly 1995-97 and right now.

Both eras had many great bands that sounded different from each other; a lot of brother-sisterhood between bands; reliable venues (ten years ago there was really only one, but it was a good one); a lot of enthusiastic people who get stuff done; a core group of familiar faces who go to all the shows.

I don't like to drop names too much (ha! google THAT!), but suffice it to say that yesterday's ______, ________, and _______ are today's A-Mode, ClamSeals and Scrib. I feel a groundswell of enthusiasm for crazy local music right now that I've only noticed during these two periods. There have been great individual bands at other times, but I never felt a real collective sense of momentum for an exciting music scene. Now, it's only getting better.

That said, music scenes are very subjective by nature and what I consider a high point might be a low point to someone else. What do you do when you want to love "the scene" but think it sucks?

There's no easy answer to this question. Above all, you need exciting bands that get people really pumped up for a show. I get excited by bands that are unpredictable in some way, because every show has the potential to be full of surprises. Maybe musical, maybe visual. Maybe the audience will do something interesting. Maybe there's a band that isn't rewriting the rule book but plays its guts out every night, no matter who shows up. That's exciting too.

This way might not work for everyone. I know there are people who are attracted to music that's dependable and reliable above all else. Music that respects tradition. Different strokes for different folks. Get people excited however possible. Whatever works. Just make shows fun, make them an event worth talking about. Bring people together who aren't already. It's incredibly satisfying when that happens. My old band seemed to have good luck with it.

I don't think there's a lot to be gained in complaining about what's around you. I guess this is a motivational tool some people use to try and make things better. "Everything around us sucks, we've got to do something". That doesn't work with me. It does the opposite of what I've just described. But wait... if something sucks, what's wrong with saying so? Nothing, I guess. But sucky things stay that way unless better alternatives are presented. So to me, complaining without building something better is just a waste of time. I'd even say complaining is a waste of time, period unless it's very clever or funny.

At my age, I'm lucky enough to have observed the punk scene, pre-commercialization (pre-Nirvana... who were a good band btw). One time I was talking to an elder statesman of the scene and I asked him when he went to his first show. He said he was 14, so that would have been 1981. I said it must have been so much cooler to be involved so near the beginning of it all. Then he said something that surprised me. "No, it wasn't any better than it is now actually." With me feeling like I'd been born too late, this made for a bit of a role reversal. But at this point I'd have to agree with him. Time and history have nothing to do with anything. Scenes are what you make them. It doesn't matter that there are bazillions of awful bands out there. Ignore that shit. Make more good ones.

Don't tell me how it shouldn't be done. Show me how it should.

Pin Politics

At the end of last year, I had the chance to spend a few days in Newfoundland. During a trip to the junk store I found this pin stuck to a hat:



There were all sorts of little Soviet nick-nacks at this store. Pins with cyrillic writing, etc. Russian naval ships apparently pass through St. John's from time to time and the sailors pawn this stuff for cash.

I admit it: I bought this pin because I thought it looked cool. No other reason. It's a relic from the past you don't often see. If anything, it reminds me of watching international hockey when I was really young. Team Canada would be playing the scary Russians, players I knew nothing about, with these odd sounding names that all ended in the letter 'v'. And these guys were good. But no one knew how good, because that was a secret. They were automatons, bred by the state to dominate the game. I heard rumours that they weren't even allowed to smile.

Come on, I was a little kid.

It was a special event whenever our team played against the Soviet Union. I'd see that flag and I'd get kind of scared because not only was the Soviet team manned by hockey supermen, but their country also had nuclear warheads pointed at us. I guess that was kind of scary too, in a different way. Not as thrilling as the hockey thing.

But the ole' hammer and sickle wouldn't be scary for long. Communism failed, and that was the end of it. I look at the pin now and laugh at how frightening I found this symbol as young kid in the early 80s. To me it still has a dangerous, threatening look about it (this must be deeply engrained in my mind), yet in reality it's just a meaningless relic. I think that's why I chose to wear it. It's not like a swastika; that represents something which unfortunately is still very real. In my mind, Soviet communism is not.

Lately though, I've been starting to rethink wearing this pin. I wonder if it may give some people the impression I'm actually a communist. To friends and indie-rock-hipsters-in-the-know I say "no, it's got nothing to do with communism... it's a tribute to Malcolm McLaren-era New York Dolls. Ha ha."

But I dunno. One time I was in line at the grocery store and when I got my plastic out to pay by debit, the guy behind me goes "What, no rubles?". Another time, I went to get a slice of pizza and the guy behind the counter warned me about the dangers of communists in his home country...although he did admit he was friends with some of them. Now I find myself taking off the jacket before I enter the building where I work. They think I'm weird enough as it is...

The danger of this symbol is what made me decide to wear it. But with danger comes hassles. And hassles are what weed out the men from the boys. So... uh... I guess I kind of have to keep wearing it now. Ha.

Surreal Moment of the Year

I got interested in punk rock when I was 15, which was quite some time ago. At that point, punk had only been in existence for about ten years. I've always liked to observe people at punk shows. I've seen demographics change, sub-scenes form, expand, contract, etc. Ever since I've been involved, it's been clear to me that there are a lot of branches on this tree. At one time, it wasn't a stretch for me to think of the long-haired guy in the Misfits shirt, the guy with the shaved head and bomber jacket, the guy with the mohawk, etc etc to be part of the same extended family... even when this didn't seem true in day to day life.

The "squeegee" branch of the tree is something I wasn't exposed to until later. I don't know much about it even today. Whatever cultural gaps I've felt with any of the other above groups seem small by comparison. Not in a negative way; I don't judge someone just because they live differently for me. But there are some life experiences I just can't identify with, homelessness being one of them. I was raised in relative comfort in suburbia and have never been unemployed. This is all I've ever known.

I'd like to think I'm without prejudices and can be friends with anyone. But experience has taught me that vast cultural differences can make that tough, however good your intentions. For example: I could see difficulty becoming close friends with, say, a born-again evangelical christian. Not to say it couldn't be done, but having spent time around people from that culture I've found myself thinking "ooooh kaaaay.... not much I can say to that". Feeling like I'm not in Kansas anymore, and am in serious need of a map. Is it wrong to feel this way? I dunno.

So today I took my car to work because I needed to bring home some boxes. Normally I walk. I'm waiting at a light, and a punk guy offers to squeegee my car. I say no thanks; the car's fairly clean. I remember driving in Montreal one winter without windshield wash and all I could think of was "where are all the squeegee punks??". Squeegeeing had apparently been banned by the city. My point is, this is a useful, legitimate practice. So I didn't say no just to be an ass.

As the guy walked away, I thought about "punk" and how much of my life I've spent being in bands, playing this music on the radio, etc... yet how totally removed I felt from this person, who seemed to be living such a different life from my own.

He walked back past my car and I saw something that put everything in perspective and threw everything out of perspective at the same time.

The guy was wearing a backpatch of my old band.

Wild Times In The City

Not really, but last night there were a lot more people milling about downtown than usual, what with the awards blah blah blah stuff. Prime time for people watching.

GS had our own business to take care of though, a little north of downtown. We were happy to be playing a show on this weekend and we're glad someone gave us the chance. I was a little worried though... there weren't a lot of familiar names in the relatively disparate lineup. More often than not, we either set up shows with our friends' bands or vice versa. That said, I don't mind playing in a really diverse lineup. But I often find it's feast or famine in that situation.

Despite the current tour planning frenzy, I don't feel all that comfortable playing with GS in front of strangers. Somehow, I imagine BB being an easier pill to swallow for those not "in the know". That's debatable I guess, but I'm off topic.

There were very few people I knew at this show, or even recognized. Come to think of if, there weren't a lot of people there, period - but with so much going on that's no surprise. LA showed up before we went on... she understands. We convinced DS to come down too, despite his early work schedule. Then another friend showed up, and we no longer outnumbered those who knew what they were getting into. So I felt good about that. When we finally did play, we had between 6 and 10 people come up to watch us. That's enough to ease the awkwardness of playing to a roomful of strangers.

We had major sound problems from the get-go. The vocals fed back... there were questions about guitar volume... the always-present tuning issues. Poison and I each broke a string - mine, of course, was the low E - in a song that really needs a low E.

GS is a band that's at its best playing loose, yet there's no margin for error in anything we do. If the guitar cuts out (or sounds like ass), that's all we've got. A smart car is good on gas and easy to park but if you get hit by a truck, you're dead.

The set had its ups and downs. At times I wanted to hide my head, but at other times I thought we were totally on top of our game. I felt more comfortable with the guitar than the drums, which doesn't normally happen. I think the few people who stayed enjoyed themselves. One person who only caught the end came up and complemented us afterward... this surprised me a little, because I thought we'd descended into total barf by the end. But thanks!

Now we have no shows booked. The break will do us good spiritually. We'll write shit, or spend our time in similarly useful ways. The record release show is going on soon. Records are good.