I’ve been afraid to so much as spit on the sidewalk these days for fear that it might “send the wrong message” to the Olympic bid selection committee. We can’t hold a vote or it will “send the wrong message.” We can’t debate the bid or it will “send the wrong message.”

Well fuck that.

When’s the last time the Olympic organization, with it’s bribe-taking officials, fixed judges and doped up ‘athletes’ worried about sending the wrong message?

I was initially dismissive of the Mayor’s plebiscite. It was conceived, without a doubt, as a means of patching differences within his newly-adopted party; a way to appease the anti-Olympic faction in COPE without encumbering the mayor with a potentially damaging ‘spoilsport’ label at election time. It’s frankly not much different from Gordon Campbell conjuring his land claim referendum to avoid alienating the redneck vote. The concept of referenda, far from furthering democracy, is increasingly and cynically being used by political organizations as a tool, or more specifically a valve, to keep their ranks from fracturing under pressure.

Having said that, I’m starting to relish the idea of having a say in this thing. I have two basic problems with the Olympic bid.

First, after spending the better part of two decades building leaky, sopping junk, our town’s developers (and Gordon Cambpell was once one of them) are lined up for a feast at the trough in the form of Olympic construction contracts. Supplying the money will be the federal and provincial governments, both of whom have offered little more than a giant middle finger to owners of shabbily-constructed condominiums and homes.

Second, if we accept the premise that events like the Olympics represent an opportunity to showcase Vancouver to the world, should we not then question whether this particular event represents the best bang for our advertising buck?

Why not spend some money over a period of years on selection of events and festivals? The City of Montreal and the Quebec provincial government pay good money to attract excellent talent to that city’s comedy and jazz festivals, both recognized to be among the best in the world. Hong Kong hosts the annual Rugby Sevens tournament. Edinburgh has its Fringe Festival. All these events are yearly advertisements for their host cities; annual tourists draws. Not one-time-only events.

Still, I haven’t quite made up my mind...

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I saw an article in a music publication the other day, stating that Avril Lavigne’s songwriting team had been signed to a new contract.

The thing is, if Avril Lavigne “writes her own stuff,” as her Vancouver-based manager Terry McBride has said (and as she often maintains), then why does her songwriting team need a new contract? Indeed, why does she have a songwriting team at all?

I have nothing against little Avril, and I don’t care if she didn’t write her songs. Elvis Presley didn’t write his own songs either, and that didn’t stop people from calling him the ‘King of Rock and Roll.”

But the spin involved in all of this pretty much sums up the rancid, politicized nature of popular music. McBride wants to sell Avril as an anti-Britney; a do-it-yourself rocker. He also knows that 90 percent of Avril’s audience, or for that matter 90 percent of those reading interviews with him, will not bother to check songwriting credits on her records. So why not just lie about it?

How long before this guy takes over from Gordon Campbell as Premier?

* * *

One of the more ridiculous hallmarks of the local music scene is the proliferation of rock bands who pretend to take the piss out of the music they’re playing. The hipsters in the audience laugh at the cheese on stage, though one suspects they’d rather be listening it than to whatever the local university station deems vital.

Surely this is an onerous way to exist. If everyone just liked what they liked without looking over their shoulders or disguising it in irony we’d all have more fun, and we’d likely end up with a less constricted musical enviroment.




Happy Valentine’s Day.