Or was it a shark? It may have been a whale...
"There are many rumors flying about outside musicians playing on 'Psycho Circus.' Set the record straight. First, is Peter playing drums on the entire record?"
"No one played on the whole record. I didn't play on every song, Gene didn't play bass on every song. Paul didn't play rhythm on every song. Peter didn't play drums on every song."
"Who did?
"I have no idea."
Ace Frehley interview in Goldmine Magazine, November 20, 1998.
Monday, December 18, 2006
I keep seeing the phrase ‘jump the shark’ everywhere. I had no idea what it meant, so I looked it up. Apparently it’s an expression that denotes the precise moment when something that was previously cool starts to suck.
It comes from the TV show ‘Happy Days,’ which apparently ‘jumped the shark’ during an episode when Fonzie literally jumped a shark while on vacation. I don’t remember Happy Days very well, but I suspect that it jumped the shark some time before Fonzie actually...well...jumped the shark.
I began using the expression myself recently, when I began to ponder the precise moment when the rock band Kiss jumped the shark.
I think a lot of people would point to the release of the ‘Dynasty’ album, which featured the pseudo-disco ‘I Was Made For Loving You.’ Some might say the shark was jumped with the hubris-heavy simultaneous release of the four Kiss solo albums in 1978. Personally, I’d go back even further. Kiss jumped the shark when Gene Simmons delivered the regrettable spoken work “I don’t usually say things like this to girls your age” monologue on ‘Christine Sixteen,’ from 1977’s ‘Love Gun’ album.
Anyway, I mention all this because I somewhat sheepishly picked up a copy of ‘Kissology’ the other week, a collection of Kiss concert and television performances spanning 1974 to 1977. I now retract my embarrassment. Any notion of this being a guilty pleasure has given way to a less abashed sense of having gotten a great value for my 20 bucks. Back in the day, this band killed.
The real meat in the collection consists of four concerts: San Francisco’s Winterland Ballroom in January of 1975; Detroit’s Cobo Hall in January of 1976; Tokyo’s Budokan Hall in April of 1977; and Huston’s Summit in September of 1977.
My favorite is the San Francisco performance. Filmed in black and white, it shows a pretty raw, fierce outfit. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to wander into a smallish venue in 1975 and see this kind of freak show.
The live sound in the early days was a bit different. The guitars were less overdriven, less saturated with distortion than they were in the later years, giving them a spare, gritty tone. There are no staircases on the stage, no hydraulic lifts all over the place. Just a relatively little-known band (albeit one with a notable live cult following) offering a display that, if it were performed today by a group in shaggy hair and blazers would have hipster critics fawning.
A lot of Kiss’ early songs stand up fairly well. What I like about many of them is that they often have really cool ‘middle eights,’ or take unexpected turns toward the end. The nifty instrumental passages in ‘Parasite’ and ‘Cold Gin,’ for instance, or the breaking into a different riff for the last section of ‘Hotter Than Hell,’ or the dramatic, slow ending to ‘Black Diamond.’ There are a lot of places where the band really needs to lock in together, and I while I don’t think these sections add up to serious virtuosity, they nontheless convey a degree of instrumental pinache.
I think this is key, because it gives the band a measure of metalhead credibility, but also because these passages make for great stage theatre (the ending of ‘Black Diamond,’ for instance, always features Simmons and Paul Stanley in choreographed headbanging mode while Ace Frehley kneels in front of them, wailing on his Les Paul).
The Detroit show takes place in early 1976, after Kiss released their breakthrough album, a live compilation of their first three records called ‘Alive!’ It’s a superb performance as well, with the hunger and dirt of the earlier show giving way to a more triumphant but still intense blowout.
Then comes Japan. You can almost see the band cruising the coast of Maui, looking for shiny fins in the water, when they emerge atop a pair of flashing staircases to start the show. After a not quite badass descent in their eight inch heels, they put on a concert that’s still pretty cool. The material off of the just-released ‘Rock and Roll Over’ album is solid, and the Japanese crowd is fun to watch (and Paul Stanely makes a rather good ESL teacher). I suspect a certain amount of audio cleanup has taken place, and there’s no escaping the fact that the band is becoming more teen idol than sleazy freak-rockers.
Six months later they’ve produced the aforementioned ‘Love Gun’ album, and we see them in Houston, Texas, hanging on for dear life while a giant hammerhead starts out on a 29 year-and-counting ride.
I mean, it’s not a total disaster, but things have definitely turned a corner. Aside from the execrable ‘Christine Sixteen,’ we get over-long drum and guitar solos, Paul Stanley donning a double necked guitar (so that he can play the rhythm parts on ‘Hooligan’ of all songs), and hydraulic lifts that would seem to render the platform shoe-unfriendly staircases redundant.
But the main thing is, the songs just aren’t quite the same. Old standards like ‘Firehouse’ and ‘Rock and Roll all Nite’ are a bit perfunctory; they just lack the guts of the earlier eras. And the sound of the band has deteriorated into a mess of over-loud, distorted bass, over-loud, distorted guitar, and drumwork that is not quite as convincing as it was in the days before Peter Criss started adding un-catlike green makeup around his eyes.
On the whole, though, Kissology is a great package. Kiss has always been seen as the next step along the (d)evolutionary ladder from Alice Cooper, yet in reading interviews with Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley I’ve always noted how much they used the Beatles as a frame of reference. You can see it, not only in the variation-on-a-theme identities cultivated for each band member, but in the stage show as well.
The use of only two microphones for instance. Two guys stand at one mic and sing backup while the other sings lead...very Beatles. As is the one or two songs per set that go to Peter, just like the Fab Four did with Ringo. And the syncronized stage moves are actually more like Paul Revere and the Raiders than anything you’d see from any of Kiss’ hard rock contemporaries.
Oh, one more thing. The DVD package opens out into a colour photo-adorned gatefold.
And there’s a booklet and a sticker.
It comes from the TV show ‘Happy Days,’ which apparently ‘jumped the shark’ during an episode when Fonzie literally jumped a shark while on vacation. I don’t remember Happy Days very well, but I suspect that it jumped the shark some time before Fonzie actually...well...jumped the shark.
I began using the expression myself recently, when I began to ponder the precise moment when the rock band Kiss jumped the shark.
I think a lot of people would point to the release of the ‘Dynasty’ album, which featured the pseudo-disco ‘I Was Made For Loving You.’ Some might say the shark was jumped with the hubris-heavy simultaneous release of the four Kiss solo albums in 1978. Personally, I’d go back even further. Kiss jumped the shark when Gene Simmons delivered the regrettable spoken work “I don’t usually say things like this to girls your age” monologue on ‘Christine Sixteen,’ from 1977’s ‘Love Gun’ album.
Anyway, I mention all this because I somewhat sheepishly picked up a copy of ‘Kissology’ the other week, a collection of Kiss concert and television performances spanning 1974 to 1977. I now retract my embarrassment. Any notion of this being a guilty pleasure has given way to a less abashed sense of having gotten a great value for my 20 bucks. Back in the day, this band killed.
The real meat in the collection consists of four concerts: San Francisco’s Winterland Ballroom in January of 1975; Detroit’s Cobo Hall in January of 1976; Tokyo’s Budokan Hall in April of 1977; and Huston’s Summit in September of 1977.
My favorite is the San Francisco performance. Filmed in black and white, it shows a pretty raw, fierce outfit. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to wander into a smallish venue in 1975 and see this kind of freak show.
The live sound in the early days was a bit different. The guitars were less overdriven, less saturated with distortion than they were in the later years, giving them a spare, gritty tone. There are no staircases on the stage, no hydraulic lifts all over the place. Just a relatively little-known band (albeit one with a notable live cult following) offering a display that, if it were performed today by a group in shaggy hair and blazers would have hipster critics fawning.
A lot of Kiss’ early songs stand up fairly well. What I like about many of them is that they often have really cool ‘middle eights,’ or take unexpected turns toward the end. The nifty instrumental passages in ‘Parasite’ and ‘Cold Gin,’ for instance, or the breaking into a different riff for the last section of ‘Hotter Than Hell,’ or the dramatic, slow ending to ‘Black Diamond.’ There are a lot of places where the band really needs to lock in together, and I while I don’t think these sections add up to serious virtuosity, they nontheless convey a degree of instrumental pinache.
I think this is key, because it gives the band a measure of metalhead credibility, but also because these passages make for great stage theatre (the ending of ‘Black Diamond,’ for instance, always features Simmons and Paul Stanley in choreographed headbanging mode while Ace Frehley kneels in front of them, wailing on his Les Paul).
The Detroit show takes place in early 1976, after Kiss released their breakthrough album, a live compilation of their first three records called ‘Alive!’ It’s a superb performance as well, with the hunger and dirt of the earlier show giving way to a more triumphant but still intense blowout.
Then comes Japan. You can almost see the band cruising the coast of Maui, looking for shiny fins in the water, when they emerge atop a pair of flashing staircases to start the show. After a not quite badass descent in their eight inch heels, they put on a concert that’s still pretty cool. The material off of the just-released ‘Rock and Roll Over’ album is solid, and the Japanese crowd is fun to watch (and Paul Stanely makes a rather good ESL teacher). I suspect a certain amount of audio cleanup has taken place, and there’s no escaping the fact that the band is becoming more teen idol than sleazy freak-rockers.
Six months later they’ve produced the aforementioned ‘Love Gun’ album, and we see them in Houston, Texas, hanging on for dear life while a giant hammerhead starts out on a 29 year-and-counting ride.
I mean, it’s not a total disaster, but things have definitely turned a corner. Aside from the execrable ‘Christine Sixteen,’ we get over-long drum and guitar solos, Paul Stanley donning a double necked guitar (so that he can play the rhythm parts on ‘Hooligan’ of all songs), and hydraulic lifts that would seem to render the platform shoe-unfriendly staircases redundant.
But the main thing is, the songs just aren’t quite the same. Old standards like ‘Firehouse’ and ‘Rock and Roll all Nite’ are a bit perfunctory; they just lack the guts of the earlier eras. And the sound of the band has deteriorated into a mess of over-loud, distorted bass, over-loud, distorted guitar, and drumwork that is not quite as convincing as it was in the days before Peter Criss started adding un-catlike green makeup around his eyes.
On the whole, though, Kissology is a great package. Kiss has always been seen as the next step along the (d)evolutionary ladder from Alice Cooper, yet in reading interviews with Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley I’ve always noted how much they used the Beatles as a frame of reference. You can see it, not only in the variation-on-a-theme identities cultivated for each band member, but in the stage show as well.
The use of only two microphones for instance. Two guys stand at one mic and sing backup while the other sings lead...very Beatles. As is the one or two songs per set that go to Peter, just like the Fab Four did with Ringo. And the syncronized stage moves are actually more like Paul Revere and the Raiders than anything you’d see from any of Kiss’ hard rock contemporaries.
Oh, one more thing. The DVD package opens out into a colour photo-adorned gatefold.
And there’s a booklet and a sticker.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
"Liberals are now projecting personal awkwardness as the new charisma..."
James Travers in the Toronto Star, commenting on Stephane Dion's election to the leadership of the Liberal Party.
Personal awkwardness as the new charisma. That suits me fine. Bring on the new era.
Travers seems to think that Dion is an anomaly in political leadership circles, but I'd argue the opposite. The Liberals in particular have always done best when they've had a nerd running the show.
Go back over the last century; they've spent huge amounts of time in power. Their list of leaders over the past 80 years includes the short, portly and verbally uncommanding MacKenzie King, the shy, elderly 'uncle' Louis St. Laurent, the bow-tied, lisping Lester Pearson, and the crooked-faced, pigeon English-speaking Jean Chretien.
I'm leaving out Pierre Trudeau, who was charismatic enough, but even his appeal was of the outsider freak variety; he was hardly the good-looking 'big-man-on-campus' type.
The two relatively recent Liberal leaders who most looked the part of the successful, assured winner were John Turner and Paul Martin.
How well did they do?
The Chretien example is particularly hilarous. The Liberals rejected him in 1984 (for Turner) and again in 2003 (for Martin); a nice set of loosing bookends for a three time majority winner. Maybe they went with Dion this time because they've finally learned their lesson (or maybe re-learned it).
The other thing is that political parties are brand names. One key thing the Liberal name is most associated with in Canada is as the party of national unity, of strong central governments, resisting the erosion of federal power by--among others--Quebec nationalists.
Michael Ignatieff opened up the constitutional issue during his run for the leadership, and came off as a bit of a sorcerer's apprentice. Dion, who's taken an enormous amount of flack battling separatists in his own province over the past 15 years, has earned his stripes on this issue. He shores up the national unity side of the Liberal party's image better than Ignatieff or even Bob Rae could.
Liberals sometimes worry about how to steal votes from Tories, but they usually win when they steal votes from the NDP. To this end, again, Dion is a smart choice. His pro-environment image and his questioning of the Afghanistan mission will help the Liberals gain ground on their left flank.
So from a Liberal perspective I don't think he's a bad choice at all.
Whether he can beat that other geek, Stephen Harper, is another matter.
But the fact that Harper now looks like such a tough nut to crack is an example of how the quiet guys can so often be underestimated.
James Travers in the Toronto Star, commenting on Stephane Dion's election to the leadership of the Liberal Party.
Personal awkwardness as the new charisma. That suits me fine. Bring on the new era.
Travers seems to think that Dion is an anomaly in political leadership circles, but I'd argue the opposite. The Liberals in particular have always done best when they've had a nerd running the show.
Go back over the last century; they've spent huge amounts of time in power. Their list of leaders over the past 80 years includes the short, portly and verbally uncommanding MacKenzie King, the shy, elderly 'uncle' Louis St. Laurent, the bow-tied, lisping Lester Pearson, and the crooked-faced, pigeon English-speaking Jean Chretien.
I'm leaving out Pierre Trudeau, who was charismatic enough, but even his appeal was of the outsider freak variety; he was hardly the good-looking 'big-man-on-campus' type.
The two relatively recent Liberal leaders who most looked the part of the successful, assured winner were John Turner and Paul Martin.
How well did they do?
The Chretien example is particularly hilarous. The Liberals rejected him in 1984 (for Turner) and again in 2003 (for Martin); a nice set of loosing bookends for a three time majority winner. Maybe they went with Dion this time because they've finally learned their lesson (or maybe re-learned it).
The other thing is that political parties are brand names. One key thing the Liberal name is most associated with in Canada is as the party of national unity, of strong central governments, resisting the erosion of federal power by--among others--Quebec nationalists.
Michael Ignatieff opened up the constitutional issue during his run for the leadership, and came off as a bit of a sorcerer's apprentice. Dion, who's taken an enormous amount of flack battling separatists in his own province over the past 15 years, has earned his stripes on this issue. He shores up the national unity side of the Liberal party's image better than Ignatieff or even Bob Rae could.
Liberals sometimes worry about how to steal votes from Tories, but they usually win when they steal votes from the NDP. To this end, again, Dion is a smart choice. His pro-environment image and his questioning of the Afghanistan mission will help the Liberals gain ground on their left flank.
So from a Liberal perspective I don't think he's a bad choice at all.
Whether he can beat that other geek, Stephen Harper, is another matter.
But the fact that Harper now looks like such a tough nut to crack is an example of how the quiet guys can so often be underestimated.
Friday, November 24, 2006
I'm not a great housekeeper, partly because I don't throw things out. I look for ever-deeper corners in various closets in which to hide things away.
But I'm thinking of getting the fuck out of this place, and have begun a glacial-paced cleanup. Earth will likely be the same temperature as Venus by the time I'm finished, but I'm making some progress.
Last weekend I was delighted to find an old comic book: "A Marvel Super Special! Stan Lee Presents The Beatles Story."
It's actually quite excellent. It's a neatly-illustrated, historically accurate account of The Beatles rise, reign, and eventual breakup.
Of course, it's still a Marvel comic, which accounts for lines like...
"Patti, you were RIGHT. The Maharishi has the ANSWER we're looking for. I've got to tell the OTHERS as soon as possible!"
...George Harrison discovers spirituality with the same revelatory urgency as Spiderman deducing that The Lizard is in fact the respected Dr. Connors.
But I'm thinking of getting the fuck out of this place, and have begun a glacial-paced cleanup. Earth will likely be the same temperature as Venus by the time I'm finished, but I'm making some progress.
Last weekend I was delighted to find an old comic book: "A Marvel Super Special! Stan Lee Presents The Beatles Story."
It's actually quite excellent. It's a neatly-illustrated, historically accurate account of The Beatles rise, reign, and eventual breakup.
Of course, it's still a Marvel comic, which accounts for lines like...
"Patti, you were RIGHT. The Maharishi has the ANSWER we're looking for. I've got to tell the OTHERS as soon as possible!"
...George Harrison discovers spirituality with the same revelatory urgency as Spiderman deducing that The Lizard is in fact the respected Dr. Connors.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
One theme that I've seen get fairly steady play in the conservative blogosphere over the past five years is the idea that Canada is a sucky, liberal country that is too gutless to stand with the U.S. in opposition to terrorism, in contrast to our Anglosphere brother Australia, which is usually portrayed as America's stolid friend and ally, always ready to mix it up alongside Uncle Sam. It's kind of a Australians are from Mars, Canadians are from Venus angle. Here's an example, from star conservative columnist and erstwhile Canadian Mark Steyn.
Now, certainly Australia supported the Iraq invasion, which Canada did not. That's something that many Americans noted with gratitude, regardless of what one thinks of the Iraq invasion. But in the overall 'war on terror,' I'd say Canada is pulling its weight.
Look at Afghanistan. Canada has been in the thick of the fighting for some time, and has lost 40 soldiers and counting since 2001. ON a per capita basis, this is on par with the losses suffered by the U.S.A (338 killed, according to CNN). Even in terms of sheer numbers, other than the U.S., only the British, with 40 killed to date, have lost as many troops as Canada when it comes to NATO countries. The Australians have lost one soldier in Afghanistan and two more in Iraq, according to both CNN and Wikipedia. I have to stress that I'm not trying to say that Canada's efforts are more laudible than those of the Australians. I've been a fairly consistent admirer of Australia over the years. Furthermore, I feel uneasy about citing these kinds of tragic facts as if they represent some kind of scorecard; that's not my intention. It just pisses me off that our own contributions are so consistently ignored, or at best given grudging, cursory mention by the very conservative mouthpieces that claim to honour this kind of military commitment and sacrifice.
Part of it is that media commentators are often all shtick and no sense. When you make your living peddling a world view that's essentially a howling song-and-dance act in which 'liberal' countries are pussies and 'conservative' countries are serious defenders of democracy, any facts that contradict your caricature-based, autopilot rants get ignored or trampled.
Nonetheless, it's bullshit, and I'm tired of it.
Now, certainly Australia supported the Iraq invasion, which Canada did not. That's something that many Americans noted with gratitude, regardless of what one thinks of the Iraq invasion. But in the overall 'war on terror,' I'd say Canada is pulling its weight.
Look at Afghanistan. Canada has been in the thick of the fighting for some time, and has lost 40 soldiers and counting since 2001. ON a per capita basis, this is on par with the losses suffered by the U.S.A (338 killed, according to CNN). Even in terms of sheer numbers, other than the U.S., only the British, with 40 killed to date, have lost as many troops as Canada when it comes to NATO countries. The Australians have lost one soldier in Afghanistan and two more in Iraq, according to both CNN and Wikipedia. I have to stress that I'm not trying to say that Canada's efforts are more laudible than those of the Australians. I've been a fairly consistent admirer of Australia over the years. Furthermore, I feel uneasy about citing these kinds of tragic facts as if they represent some kind of scorecard; that's not my intention. It just pisses me off that our own contributions are so consistently ignored, or at best given grudging, cursory mention by the very conservative mouthpieces that claim to honour this kind of military commitment and sacrifice.
Part of it is that media commentators are often all shtick and no sense. When you make your living peddling a world view that's essentially a howling song-and-dance act in which 'liberal' countries are pussies and 'conservative' countries are serious defenders of democracy, any facts that contradict your caricature-based, autopilot rants get ignored or trampled.
Nonetheless, it's bullshit, and I'm tired of it.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
You may have seen advertisements for a new movie coming out this weekend called 'Flyboys.' It's about World War One fighter pilots, and is based on the The Lafayette Escadrille, a mostly American squadron of the French Air Force at the time.
I'm a little wary of the film. The background on its related website sets the stage as follows: "In 1917, prior to the official entry into the war by the United States, the Allied powers of France, England and Italy were on the ropes against the German juggernaut."
Whatever. The movie looks cool, and I've been keen on Great War aces since I was a little kid, so I can't help but be intrigued.
What irks me is the fact that Canada's World War One aces never get any mention. I don't expect Hollywood to do this, but it puzzles me how ignorant Canadians are of their own military history.
Three of the top ten fighter aces in the Great War were Candian (there's actually a four-way tie for eighth place). Only the Germans had as many in the top ten (or eleven, given the tie), and none of the allies--British, French, American, Australian, South African, you name it--had that many. In fact, if you take the total 'kills' of Canada's top three--Billy Bishop, Ray Collishaw and Donald MacLaren--you get 186, which is 27 more than were scored by the entrire Lafayette Escadrille combined. (Note also that Canada's top ace, Billy Bishop, didn't start flying until 1917, the year America entered the war).
How come there's no Canadian movie about these guys? Well, partly because no one in this country knows anything about them, and partly because it would likely just be a low budget piece of pedestrian drivel which would be ignored throughout the world and play in about 10 theatres in Canada, before ending up on the CBC, sandwiched somewhere between 'Pirates of the Carribean XXIII' and 'Girlfriends of Pierre Trudeau.'
Sometimes it's hard work being a Canadian. Always struggling to get your message out in the face of massive apathy and disinterest, both local and international, all the while trying to keep the whole enterprise from splitting up. It's kind of like being in an indie rock band.
I'm a little wary of the film. The background on its related website sets the stage as follows: "In 1917, prior to the official entry into the war by the United States, the Allied powers of France, England and Italy were on the ropes against the German juggernaut."
Whatever. The movie looks cool, and I've been keen on Great War aces since I was a little kid, so I can't help but be intrigued.
What irks me is the fact that Canada's World War One aces never get any mention. I don't expect Hollywood to do this, but it puzzles me how ignorant Canadians are of their own military history.
Three of the top ten fighter aces in the Great War were Candian (there's actually a four-way tie for eighth place). Only the Germans had as many in the top ten (or eleven, given the tie), and none of the allies--British, French, American, Australian, South African, you name it--had that many. In fact, if you take the total 'kills' of Canada's top three--Billy Bishop, Ray Collishaw and Donald MacLaren--you get 186, which is 27 more than were scored by the entrire Lafayette Escadrille combined. (Note also that Canada's top ace, Billy Bishop, didn't start flying until 1917, the year America entered the war).
How come there's no Canadian movie about these guys? Well, partly because no one in this country knows anything about them, and partly because it would likely just be a low budget piece of pedestrian drivel which would be ignored throughout the world and play in about 10 theatres in Canada, before ending up on the CBC, sandwiched somewhere between 'Pirates of the Carribean XXIII' and 'Girlfriends of Pierre Trudeau.'
Sometimes it's hard work being a Canadian. Always struggling to get your message out in the face of massive apathy and disinterest, both local and international, all the while trying to keep the whole enterprise from splitting up. It's kind of like being in an indie rock band.
Wednesday, September 20, 2006
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
I caught a bit of a TV interview with Diana Krall over the weekend. She comes from Nanaimo, and I was filled with glee to find that she got her first regular gig at Lloyd Gilmour's NHL restaurant.
I must have gone past the NHL restaurant about a gazillion times en route from Departure Bay to the Gabriola Ferry. Lloyld Gilmour was a former NHL referee. The outside of his restaurant had these life-size, mannequin-like hockey player figures plastered into the wall, several feet off the ground. There were a handful of them, made to strike ungainly action poses. Some were in Montreal Canadiens attire, others were fitted in Canuck uniforms. When I say Canuck uniforms, I'm talking about the late '70s/early '80s canary yellow jerseys with the 'flying V' on the front; you'd have thought the City of Nanaimo might've had some kind of bylaw prohibiting such an eyesore.
I never went inside the restaurant , but Krall said it was no less over the top, with hockey-themed carpet, tables, walls...the works.
It's not there anymore. Everytime I drive by its former location, I think of it, and kick myself for not snapping a photo when I had the chance.
***
Speaking of insane NHL uniforms, what the fuck is going on with the Buffalo Sabres? Remember when they wore those superb U.S. Cavalry-style deep blue sweaters with the crossed sword logo? They insanely switched to some garish Bison head crest a number of years ago. Now they've gone one step further, opting for what I think is supposed to be an even more stylized Buffalo head, but which looks more like a flying squirrel. Why can't these guys ever leave well enough alone?
I must have gone past the NHL restaurant about a gazillion times en route from Departure Bay to the Gabriola Ferry. Lloyld Gilmour was a former NHL referee. The outside of his restaurant had these life-size, mannequin-like hockey player figures plastered into the wall, several feet off the ground. There were a handful of them, made to strike ungainly action poses. Some were in Montreal Canadiens attire, others were fitted in Canuck uniforms. When I say Canuck uniforms, I'm talking about the late '70s/early '80s canary yellow jerseys with the 'flying V' on the front; you'd have thought the City of Nanaimo might've had some kind of bylaw prohibiting such an eyesore.
I never went inside the restaurant , but Krall said it was no less over the top, with hockey-themed carpet, tables, walls...the works.
It's not there anymore. Everytime I drive by its former location, I think of it, and kick myself for not snapping a photo when I had the chance.
***
Speaking of insane NHL uniforms, what the fuck is going on with the Buffalo Sabres? Remember when they wore those superb U.S. Cavalry-style deep blue sweaters with the crossed sword logo? They insanely switched to some garish Bison head crest a number of years ago. Now they've gone one step further, opting for what I think is supposed to be an even more stylized Buffalo head, but which looks more like a flying squirrel. Why can't these guys ever leave well enough alone?
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
I was thinking, while watching Rockstar Supernova, that there's a missing link in the way the music industry appears to be evolving.
On one hand, it's never been easier to write songs and 'get them out there.' Various types of software give you a multi-track studio in a laptop, and the web gives you an easy way to send tunes around the world.
On the other hand, there are more and more of these manufactured performers and bands, in which one group of extroverts auditions in front of another group of extroverts. I'm not intending to be malicious in using the word 'manufactured;' I think many of the Rockstar contestants, for instance, are solid, seasoned entertainers.
But as the music industry pulls its talent from these purpose-built ensembles, it's ignoring the potential of all of the unsung basement geniuses. The latter are likely generating more potentially lucrative material than has ever been available.
The result is a ton of people making music, yet nothing but dross and oldies on the radio.
This ecosystem needs a new creature, some kind of middle-man. Someone to extract, like oil from tarsands, the best material from the unknown songwriters, and get it into the hands of the 'rockstars.' It won't be as poetic as the rise and fall of Curt Cobain, but at least there might be a few more good songs getting airplay (or webplay), and a few more folks might get rich.
Of course, the guys likely to end up cashing in the most will likely be these new middle men. The least musical, but most entrepreneurial link in the chain will walk out with the most gravy. Nonetheless, the previously ignored songwriter will get some recognition and a bit of change, and all of these self-proclaimed 'rockstars' might get some substance to go with their style.
On one hand, it's never been easier to write songs and 'get them out there.' Various types of software give you a multi-track studio in a laptop, and the web gives you an easy way to send tunes around the world.
On the other hand, there are more and more of these manufactured performers and bands, in which one group of extroverts auditions in front of another group of extroverts. I'm not intending to be malicious in using the word 'manufactured;' I think many of the Rockstar contestants, for instance, are solid, seasoned entertainers.
But as the music industry pulls its talent from these purpose-built ensembles, it's ignoring the potential of all of the unsung basement geniuses. The latter are likely generating more potentially lucrative material than has ever been available.
The result is a ton of people making music, yet nothing but dross and oldies on the radio.
This ecosystem needs a new creature, some kind of middle-man. Someone to extract, like oil from tarsands, the best material from the unknown songwriters, and get it into the hands of the 'rockstars.' It won't be as poetic as the rise and fall of Curt Cobain, but at least there might be a few more good songs getting airplay (or webplay), and a few more folks might get rich.
Of course, the guys likely to end up cashing in the most will likely be these new middle men. The least musical, but most entrepreneurial link in the chain will walk out with the most gravy. Nonetheless, the previously ignored songwriter will get some recognition and a bit of change, and all of these self-proclaimed 'rockstars' might get some substance to go with their style.
Monday, July 24, 2006
Various Items:
-There was a fire near 2nd and Quebec on Friday night. I could see the reflection of the flames out my window, on the windows of the glass towers on the opposite side of False Creek. Kind of a odd accompaniment to the release of the new Stoke record this weekend (I've got copies). The cover of the album features a photo of a piece of graffiti that adorned the wall of a now-demolished building at the same intersection as Friday's fire. The work can be seen at blacknblues.com...a portrait of an unkown woman.
-I feel very despondent these days. I'm in a shell, as JR McClelland once said. Or as someone else once said, 'how did I get to this place?'
-Instead of auditioning for a lead singer, shouldn't the members of Supernova be looking for a songwriter? Perhaps I'm being unkind, but between the three of them they've managed one great tune in 20 years (that being Gilby Clarke's admittedly superb 'Cure Me or Kill Me,' a song that has about three killer riffs in the first 50 seconds, and also includes the words 'Tarantula Fuzz'; I think I'll add it to my list of six favorite songs...I think I've finished the list now).
I know they're relying on the producer to supply a Mutt Lange-like thunderbolt or two, but is that wise?
-There was a fire near 2nd and Quebec on Friday night. I could see the reflection of the flames out my window, on the windows of the glass towers on the opposite side of False Creek. Kind of a odd accompaniment to the release of the new Stoke record this weekend (I've got copies). The cover of the album features a photo of a piece of graffiti that adorned the wall of a now-demolished building at the same intersection as Friday's fire. The work can be seen at blacknblues.com...a portrait of an unkown woman.
-I feel very despondent these days. I'm in a shell, as JR McClelland once said. Or as someone else once said, 'how did I get to this place?'
-Instead of auditioning for a lead singer, shouldn't the members of Supernova be looking for a songwriter? Perhaps I'm being unkind, but between the three of them they've managed one great tune in 20 years (that being Gilby Clarke's admittedly superb 'Cure Me or Kill Me,' a song that has about three killer riffs in the first 50 seconds, and also includes the words 'Tarantula Fuzz'; I think I'll add it to my list of six favorite songs...I think I've finished the list now).
I know they're relying on the producer to supply a Mutt Lange-like thunderbolt or two, but is that wise?
Monday, July 10, 2006
Well, I still like the French soccer team, perhaps now more than ever.
For some reason it doesn’t bother me at all that they are a frustrating, aging group that squandered their potential after a ramdom, inexplicable act of self-destruction.
As for Zidane’s head butt, I’m bemused by all the speculation as to what Marco Materazzi said to him to provoke it. Perhaps it was a truly execrable comment, though I also wouldn’t be surprised if it was relatively innocuous bit of chiding, and that it was a combination of frustration and temper, set off by the nattering itself, that ignited Zidane.
You see, I have some experience with this myself, and therefore I’m reluctant to condemn Zidane’s act of violence. I have a co-worker who sets me off in much the same way. It’s not so much that what she says is offensive; it’s the gradual build-up of irritation that gets you.
If you fused my relationship with my co-worker with the World Cup final incident, I can envision the exchange going something like this:
Materazzi: You’ve had your chances, Zizou, but your’re finished. We’re the mighty Azzuri. Soon we will be world champions...the greatest team across all six continents.
Zidane: You mean seven continents.
Materazzi: No, six...Europe, North America, South America, Africa, Australia...what’s the other one? Let me think...
Zidane: The other TWO; Asia and Antarctica.
Materazzi: I don’t think Asia’s a continent, maybe India...anyway, we’re going to destroy you, much in the same way that the British Royal Family destroyed princess Diana. That was terrible. Of course, you French were in on it, weren’t you?
Zidane: What are you talking about?
Materazzi: The crash scene. All the evidence you destroyed. How come French police cleaned up the crash scene so quickly? Maybe the French governement is in league with the British Royal Family. Or at least in league with the Queen. The Queen could be directing a rogue element within MI5 who have connections to the French secret police who...
Zidane: Why don’t you piss off?
Materazzi: You see, you’re all discombobulated. Ha ha ha...
Zidane: Will you shut up?
Materatzi: Yes, you’re discombobulated. It means...well, I’m not sure what it means. I just made it up! I can’t say exactly what it means because I just made it up!! Sometimes I do that. I make up words. What's another one I made up? I know....
THUNK!!!
For some reason it doesn’t bother me at all that they are a frustrating, aging group that squandered their potential after a ramdom, inexplicable act of self-destruction.
As for Zidane’s head butt, I’m bemused by all the speculation as to what Marco Materazzi said to him to provoke it. Perhaps it was a truly execrable comment, though I also wouldn’t be surprised if it was relatively innocuous bit of chiding, and that it was a combination of frustration and temper, set off by the nattering itself, that ignited Zidane.
You see, I have some experience with this myself, and therefore I’m reluctant to condemn Zidane’s act of violence. I have a co-worker who sets me off in much the same way. It’s not so much that what she says is offensive; it’s the gradual build-up of irritation that gets you.
If you fused my relationship with my co-worker with the World Cup final incident, I can envision the exchange going something like this:
Materazzi: You’ve had your chances, Zizou, but your’re finished. We’re the mighty Azzuri. Soon we will be world champions...the greatest team across all six continents.
Zidane: You mean seven continents.
Materazzi: No, six...Europe, North America, South America, Africa, Australia...what’s the other one? Let me think...
Zidane: The other TWO; Asia and Antarctica.
Materazzi: I don’t think Asia’s a continent, maybe India...anyway, we’re going to destroy you, much in the same way that the British Royal Family destroyed princess Diana. That was terrible. Of course, you French were in on it, weren’t you?
Zidane: What are you talking about?
Materazzi: The crash scene. All the evidence you destroyed. How come French police cleaned up the crash scene so quickly? Maybe the French governement is in league with the British Royal Family. Or at least in league with the Queen. The Queen could be directing a rogue element within MI5 who have connections to the French secret police who...
Zidane: Why don’t you piss off?
Materazzi: You see, you’re all discombobulated. Ha ha ha...
Zidane: Will you shut up?
Materatzi: Yes, you’re discombobulated. It means...well, I’m not sure what it means. I just made it up! I can’t say exactly what it means because I just made it up!! Sometimes I do that. I make up words. What's another one I made up? I know....
THUNK!!!
Monday, July 03, 2006
Does it seem that Vancouver’s Brazilian community swells to improbable levels around World Cup time? Perhaps it’s just me, but I suspect that many of the yellow-shirted ‘South Americans’ I’ve seen strutting around over the past couple of weeks are of questionable legitimacy.
Personally, I have a strict protocol that I follow for the World Cup, something like a royal line of succession. It has to be stringent, lest one be accused of the kind of bandwagon-jumping that seems rampant in this poser-inundated city.
First, of course, I cheer for Canada. If, by chance, they fail to make the World Cup tournament, I cheer for Scotland, as that’s the next closest family tie for me; two of my grandparents are of Scottish birth.
If, by chance, Scotland fails to qualify, I go with England. I have one grandparent of English birth. The fourth grandparent (my maternal grandfather) is also of English parentage, although he himself was born in Canada.
If...by chance...the English team is eliminated earlier in the competition than expected, I then go with France, providing they themselves are still in the running.
Why?
Well, we live in a partly French country. So there’s an official connection on that level.
But it’s largely because I’ve always liked the French soccer team. When I first started following World Cup soccer, the French had a good squad that played with a lot of pinache. They’ve had their ups and downs over the years, but they seem to be one of the most consistently watchable of the various European sides.
I was delighted when they beat Brazil on the weekend, partly because it was a nice, if wholly inadeqeuate, kick in the ass to our local fake Brazilians, but also because it epitomized what I like about ‘Les Bleus.’
Unlike almost everyone else, the French don’t seem to fear the Brazilians. They go into their games with the South Americans without any sense of awe or deference, and it seems to work.
I think there’s a lesson in there somewhere.
Personally, I have a strict protocol that I follow for the World Cup, something like a royal line of succession. It has to be stringent, lest one be accused of the kind of bandwagon-jumping that seems rampant in this poser-inundated city.
First, of course, I cheer for Canada. If, by chance, they fail to make the World Cup tournament, I cheer for Scotland, as that’s the next closest family tie for me; two of my grandparents are of Scottish birth.
If, by chance, Scotland fails to qualify, I go with England. I have one grandparent of English birth. The fourth grandparent (my maternal grandfather) is also of English parentage, although he himself was born in Canada.
If...by chance...the English team is eliminated earlier in the competition than expected, I then go with France, providing they themselves are still in the running.
Why?
Well, we live in a partly French country. So there’s an official connection on that level.
But it’s largely because I’ve always liked the French soccer team. When I first started following World Cup soccer, the French had a good squad that played with a lot of pinache. They’ve had their ups and downs over the years, but they seem to be one of the most consistently watchable of the various European sides.
I was delighted when they beat Brazil on the weekend, partly because it was a nice, if wholly inadeqeuate, kick in the ass to our local fake Brazilians, but also because it epitomized what I like about ‘Les Bleus.’
Unlike almost everyone else, the French don’t seem to fear the Brazilians. They go into their games with the South Americans without any sense of awe or deference, and it seems to work.
I think there’s a lesson in there somewhere.
Friday, June 23, 2006
I've seen a fair amount of wildlife on and around Gabriola this spring. Here's brief recap:
-En route from Horseshoe Bay to Departure Bay in April, the ferry captain alerted the ship to a large school of dolphins travelling in a southeasterly direction, heading south down the Georgia Straight. They passed right in front of the ship.
-It's not unusual to see otters scurrying around the beach and swimming in the water off the shore during springtime. I've seen them in different places on a few occasions this year. Down at Orlebar Point, where Entrance Island lies, I actually saw a pair of otters playing/wrestling with each other in a tidepool. These are river otters, by the way, not sea otters. The latter don't come on land much, whearas the former can be found near (and in) the ocean, as well as rivers. You can tell them apart by their longer tails.
-There are deer all over the place. More than usual, it seems. On a spin around the island last weekend I spotted seven, including a mother and two fawns.
-Raccoons are not really unusual, but I never seem to see any. This year I've spotted a couple. One scurrying on a rocky, somewhat remote portion of shoreline, and then one in my own front 'yard.' Apparently Raccoons eat mice, which is good, because I'm waging a running battle with the little bastards (mice that is, not raccoons).
-There are a lot of eagles. I saw one swoop down from the treetops to have a go at what I assume was a fish, down near Drumbeg park, which is just opposite Valdez Island.
-Seals are quite common. If you're walking along any piece of coastline where there's a steepish dropoff into the water, you often see their heads pop out of the sea, catching a breath between fishing,
Entrance Island, and the area around it, is a veritable Grand Central Station of sea lions and seals. You often hear sea lions barking away out on the island, which is home to a lighthouse. I don't know how the lighthouse keepers stand it (though frankly I'd rather put up with several dozen barking sea lions than your average ferry lineup conversation).
There is another small island along the coast from Entrance--let's call it 'Willingdon Island'. It's a little closer to the shore than Entrance Island. I had my binoculars with me last weekend, and I saw a few dozen seals out on Willingdon Island. They were all lazing around until a pair of huge eagles swooped down and took a poke at one of the seals. Most of other seals paddled off into the ocean.
I noticed that the object of the Eagles' attention was a smaller seal, perhaps a baby. It appeared to be injured or sick; it could barely move, and didn't seem to react to the eagles.
The little seal made its way into a shallow ledge of water just of the island. One of the eagles flew down from a perch on a jutting ten foot-high outcrop of sandstone, reached into the water and grabbed hold of the seal just offshore. Then, huge wingspan flapping, it lifted the plump, soaking little mammal up onto the beach, kind of like that magnet-equipped helicopter that hoisted the bad guys' car in the Bond flick 'You Only Live Twice.'
Having deposited the forlorn little sea pup back on the sandstone, the eagles resumed their watch, just letting the seal lie there. At one point, the seal made it's way agonizingly back into the water a short ways, but didn't go anywhere. In its condition, I suppose it risked drowning. It then strugged back onto the shore, where the eagles just kept watching, occasionally dropping beside it and jabbing at it with their beaks.
I watched this for about 40 minutes, but figured it could go on for hours; the eagles were likely more patient than me. Plus a downpour came along, and I had no raingear.
I went back the next morning and trained the binoculars on the same spot. The tide was a bit higher, and there was no sign of the seal. The eagles, though, were still there (I assume they were the same ones). Sitting beside them on the same ridge of sandstone was a big vulture.
-En route from Horseshoe Bay to Departure Bay in April, the ferry captain alerted the ship to a large school of dolphins travelling in a southeasterly direction, heading south down the Georgia Straight. They passed right in front of the ship.
-It's not unusual to see otters scurrying around the beach and swimming in the water off the shore during springtime. I've seen them in different places on a few occasions this year. Down at Orlebar Point, where Entrance Island lies, I actually saw a pair of otters playing/wrestling with each other in a tidepool. These are river otters, by the way, not sea otters. The latter don't come on land much, whearas the former can be found near (and in) the ocean, as well as rivers. You can tell them apart by their longer tails.
-There are deer all over the place. More than usual, it seems. On a spin around the island last weekend I spotted seven, including a mother and two fawns.
-Raccoons are not really unusual, but I never seem to see any. This year I've spotted a couple. One scurrying on a rocky, somewhat remote portion of shoreline, and then one in my own front 'yard.' Apparently Raccoons eat mice, which is good, because I'm waging a running battle with the little bastards (mice that is, not raccoons).
-There are a lot of eagles. I saw one swoop down from the treetops to have a go at what I assume was a fish, down near Drumbeg park, which is just opposite Valdez Island.
-Seals are quite common. If you're walking along any piece of coastline where there's a steepish dropoff into the water, you often see their heads pop out of the sea, catching a breath between fishing,
Entrance Island, and the area around it, is a veritable Grand Central Station of sea lions and seals. You often hear sea lions barking away out on the island, which is home to a lighthouse. I don't know how the lighthouse keepers stand it (though frankly I'd rather put up with several dozen barking sea lions than your average ferry lineup conversation).
There is another small island along the coast from Entrance--let's call it 'Willingdon Island'. It's a little closer to the shore than Entrance Island. I had my binoculars with me last weekend, and I saw a few dozen seals out on Willingdon Island. They were all lazing around until a pair of huge eagles swooped down and took a poke at one of the seals. Most of other seals paddled off into the ocean.
I noticed that the object of the Eagles' attention was a smaller seal, perhaps a baby. It appeared to be injured or sick; it could barely move, and didn't seem to react to the eagles.
The little seal made its way into a shallow ledge of water just of the island. One of the eagles flew down from a perch on a jutting ten foot-high outcrop of sandstone, reached into the water and grabbed hold of the seal just offshore. Then, huge wingspan flapping, it lifted the plump, soaking little mammal up onto the beach, kind of like that magnet-equipped helicopter that hoisted the bad guys' car in the Bond flick 'You Only Live Twice.'
Having deposited the forlorn little sea pup back on the sandstone, the eagles resumed their watch, just letting the seal lie there. At one point, the seal made it's way agonizingly back into the water a short ways, but didn't go anywhere. In its condition, I suppose it risked drowning. It then strugged back onto the shore, where the eagles just kept watching, occasionally dropping beside it and jabbing at it with their beaks.
I watched this for about 40 minutes, but figured it could go on for hours; the eagles were likely more patient than me. Plus a downpour came along, and I had no raingear.
I went back the next morning and trained the binoculars on the same spot. The tide was a bit higher, and there was no sign of the seal. The eagles, though, were still there (I assume they were the same ones). Sitting beside them on the same ridge of sandstone was a big vulture.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Still on the subject of hockey, I caught a bit of the Hurricanes' Stanley Cup 'parade' on the news. If I sat in the back of a pickup while someone drove me around a deserted street at 4am I'd get a bigger turnout.
Maybe this lack of interest helps the team when the going's tough. No pressure, no one second guessing you. It seemed to work for Tampa a couple of years ago as well.
But really, now that the salary cap's in place, and given that Gary Bettman's vision of massive U.S. television interest in the game has proven to be a bust, isn't it time these sun belt franchises folded their tents and headed back up north to where someone actually gives a shit?
Maybe this lack of interest helps the team when the going's tough. No pressure, no one second guessing you. It seemed to work for Tampa a couple of years ago as well.
But really, now that the salary cap's in place, and given that Gary Bettman's vision of massive U.S. television interest in the game has proven to be a bust, isn't it time these sun belt franchises folded their tents and headed back up north to where someone actually gives a shit?
Some musings on the Stanley Cup Final...
I thought that the aftermath of game six was eerily reminiscent of 1994. The Oilers drawing even after being down 3-1 in the series reminded me of when the Canucks did the same against the Rangers.
The problem was, there was a little too much triumph in the air on the Edmonton side after game six. The same euphoric feeling was evident here in 1994. Drawing even was a great feat, but you’re still just even. Digging out of a hole just puts you at ground level. Maybe it’s natural to breathe a sigh of relief and pat yourself on the back at that point, but do you then loose that heightened sense of fear that helped you to stay alive and keep fighting? Indeed, does that hugely motivating fear factor transfer to the other team?
Then game seven. An early lead for the home team, just like 1994, followed by a dogged attempt to come back that fell just short. Fernando Pisani’s late chance was agonizingly simliar to Nathan Lafayette’s (remember him?) shot off the crossbar against the Rangers in the dying minutes of game seven in 1994.
The other thing that’s been on my mind is the way it’s taken as given that we’ve all been cheering for Edmonton.
I enjoyed their run; I like underdogs (though as a sports town, Edmonton is often a gushing well of hubris). But why must I necessarily cast my lot with them?
Because they’re the Canadian-based team?
Perhaps, but many of the Carolina players are also Canadian.
And if it were Montreal, Ottawa, Toronto or Vancouver in the final against an American-based team, would Albertans automatically rally behind them in the same way?
(Would Edmontonians cheer for Calgary's teams? I doubt it, and I doubt many Calgarians are too upset right now in return.)
I thought that the aftermath of game six was eerily reminiscent of 1994. The Oilers drawing even after being down 3-1 in the series reminded me of when the Canucks did the same against the Rangers.
The problem was, there was a little too much triumph in the air on the Edmonton side after game six. The same euphoric feeling was evident here in 1994. Drawing even was a great feat, but you’re still just even. Digging out of a hole just puts you at ground level. Maybe it’s natural to breathe a sigh of relief and pat yourself on the back at that point, but do you then loose that heightened sense of fear that helped you to stay alive and keep fighting? Indeed, does that hugely motivating fear factor transfer to the other team?
Then game seven. An early lead for the home team, just like 1994, followed by a dogged attempt to come back that fell just short. Fernando Pisani’s late chance was agonizingly simliar to Nathan Lafayette’s (remember him?) shot off the crossbar against the Rangers in the dying minutes of game seven in 1994.
The other thing that’s been on my mind is the way it’s taken as given that we’ve all been cheering for Edmonton.
I enjoyed their run; I like underdogs (though as a sports town, Edmonton is often a gushing well of hubris). But why must I necessarily cast my lot with them?
Because they’re the Canadian-based team?
Perhaps, but many of the Carolina players are also Canadian.
And if it were Montreal, Ottawa, Toronto or Vancouver in the final against an American-based team, would Albertans automatically rally behind them in the same way?
(Would Edmontonians cheer for Calgary's teams? I doubt it, and I doubt many Calgarians are too upset right now in return.)
Thursday, April 27, 2006
I should probably write something, but self-censorship prevents me from really going for it. This is one of my great failings as a 'writer.' Therefore, I offer yet another photo. This one features three little islands - Snake Island, Five Finger Island and the Hudson Rocks - faintly visible in the distance. As always, Texada looms vaguely in the background.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Georgia Straight at sunset, just outside of Roberts Bank. The only thing missing from this picture is a nice floating bridge, packed with stalled vehicles due to remedial engineering work being done on the span after one of the anchors unexpectedly sinks further into the silt ocean floor. There would also a be a small boat, containing a Global TV news crew doing a story on the urgent necessity of bringing back a ferry service.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Global TV served up a grating duet a couple of weeks ago, sending out smirking reporter Jas Johal to interview former BC cabinet minster Pat McGeer.
McGeer, who continues to be a parody of a pompous, horn-rimmed professor, trotted out his ancient fixed-link plan, wherein the Lower Mainland of BC would be connected to Vancouver island by way of a multi-part 'bridge' that looks like it was devised by six-year-olds building a popsicle-stick crossing over ditchwater.
McGeer implied that when he proposed the plan to his cabinet collegues two or three decades ago they didn't have the political nerve to follow through.
Johal sneered along with Professor Egghead, but didn't bother to seek out any of McGeer's former Socred colleagues for rebuttal. He did approach current transportation minister Kevin Falcon.
Falcon commented that the cost of any fixed link would likely be such that the mimimum price of a trip across the 'bridge' would be in the area of $200 each way. It would be paid for over the course of decades, not years. (This is assuming that the 'structure' comes in on budget and of course, we have a sterling reputation in this province when it comes to costing megaprojects, don't we?. It is also assuming that any future government doesn't decide to leave the toll in place).
Then Falcon said something totally unexpected. Aside from the cost, he said, he felt such a structure would be a 'blight.' He felt it would have a ruinous environmental impact, and generally be an ungainly addition to the southern BC coast.
McGeer's plan is essentially as follows:
A tunnel would be built from Roberts Bank, in Steveston (ie. Richmond) partway into Georgia Straight. It would then hook up with a 'man-made island,' and then be linked the rest of the way with a floating bridge. The bridge would connect to Valdez Island. Valdez would be linked by bridge to Gabriola Island, which in turn would be linked to Mudge Island, which would be connected to Vancouver Island near Yellowpoint, about 45 minutes by car out of Nanaimo.
The plan involves no discussion of the need to upgrade highway infrastructure, either on the Lower Mainland or Vancouver Island side. Last weekend, for instance, there was a massive backup on the Malahat drive, just north of Victoria, after another of the highway's frequent accidents. How much work would be required on that stretch of road if you started funneling all Vancouver-Victoria traffic through it?
I agree with Falcon on this. The only people who ever complain about ferries anyway are those who travel to the Island about once a year, usually showing up at Horseshoe Bay on the Friday before the BC Day long weekend without a reservation. They spend the evening in line, and the next 364 days fuming about the need for a bridge.
Life would be so much better for these types if they could show up at the Pat McGeer Bridge on an early August Friday night, then spend the evening idling in a traffic jam.
-----
For more info. on the feasibility of a 'fixed link,' try...
www.th.gov.bc.ca/Publications/reports_and_studies/fixed_link/fixed_link.htm
McGeer, who continues to be a parody of a pompous, horn-rimmed professor, trotted out his ancient fixed-link plan, wherein the Lower Mainland of BC would be connected to Vancouver island by way of a multi-part 'bridge' that looks like it was devised by six-year-olds building a popsicle-stick crossing over ditchwater.
McGeer implied that when he proposed the plan to his cabinet collegues two or three decades ago they didn't have the political nerve to follow through.
Johal sneered along with Professor Egghead, but didn't bother to seek out any of McGeer's former Socred colleagues for rebuttal. He did approach current transportation minister Kevin Falcon.
Falcon commented that the cost of any fixed link would likely be such that the mimimum price of a trip across the 'bridge' would be in the area of $200 each way. It would be paid for over the course of decades, not years. (This is assuming that the 'structure' comes in on budget and of course, we have a sterling reputation in this province when it comes to costing megaprojects, don't we?. It is also assuming that any future government doesn't decide to leave the toll in place).
Then Falcon said something totally unexpected. Aside from the cost, he said, he felt such a structure would be a 'blight.' He felt it would have a ruinous environmental impact, and generally be an ungainly addition to the southern BC coast.
McGeer's plan is essentially as follows:
A tunnel would be built from Roberts Bank, in Steveston (ie. Richmond) partway into Georgia Straight. It would then hook up with a 'man-made island,' and then be linked the rest of the way with a floating bridge. The bridge would connect to Valdez Island. Valdez would be linked by bridge to Gabriola Island, which in turn would be linked to Mudge Island, which would be connected to Vancouver Island near Yellowpoint, about 45 minutes by car out of Nanaimo.
The plan involves no discussion of the need to upgrade highway infrastructure, either on the Lower Mainland or Vancouver Island side. Last weekend, for instance, there was a massive backup on the Malahat drive, just north of Victoria, after another of the highway's frequent accidents. How much work would be required on that stretch of road if you started funneling all Vancouver-Victoria traffic through it?
I agree with Falcon on this. The only people who ever complain about ferries anyway are those who travel to the Island about once a year, usually showing up at Horseshoe Bay on the Friday before the BC Day long weekend without a reservation. They spend the evening in line, and the next 364 days fuming about the need for a bridge.
Life would be so much better for these types if they could show up at the Pat McGeer Bridge on an early August Friday night, then spend the evening idling in a traffic jam.
-----
For more info. on the feasibility of a 'fixed link,' try...
www.th.gov.bc.ca/Publications/reports_and_studies/fixed_link/fixed_link.htm
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Xanadu - Rush
Coleridge was perhaps one of the earliest headbangers.
Long before Iron Maiden started raiding Coles’ Notes for their song lyrics (‘Rime of the Ancient Mariner'), Rush delivered this superb epic. I think, as an adaptor of classic literature, Neil Peart manages rather better than Steve Harris.
Musically, this is Rush at their early best, with grandiose riffs and exquisite instrumentation. Vocally, Geddy Lee is at his most piercingly insane. As a kid, I was initially turned off by Rush because of the voice, but I eventually got used to it. You realize at some point that it suits the music. I read on some website that the vocals make the sound that much more ‘otherwordly,’ which I think sums it up.
The introduction to this song is so exhilarating that I want to become a feature filmaker so I can use it to score some panoramic opening shot. The rest of the song is, like a lot of early Rush, pieced into easily digestible and recurring sections.
The knock on Rush, especially in their early days, is that they are self-indulgent. Once you get past the length of the ‘songs,’ though, you find that they are a very spare, tight outfit. There is actually not much self-indulgence in this stuff at all.
Their breakthrough album, ‘2112,’ features a side-lenth opening ‘track,’ yet if you listen to it it is pieced into memorable two and three minute parts. Their early work reminds me of the lean, nicely-paced version of ‘Tommy’ that The Who serves up on the ‘Live at Leeds’ album.
In fact, one can say that Rush actually became more self-indulgent later in their career. I’ll gladly take an 18 minute ‘song’ divided into a half-dozen well-constructed pieces over a quartet of four or five minute tunes based on less interesting music.
The other thing about mid-to-late Seventies Rush is that they really were kind of freakish. With songs like Xanadu, and politically charged pieces like 2112, they conveyed a sense of overweening ambition, even fanatacism.
Nowadays, they seem embarrased by it, but it gave them an edge that is elusive to a lot of Canadian bands. Most rock fans (internationally, at any rate), don’t really buy Canadian groups in the conventional rock role as debauched, dangerous badasses.
Rush went at it from another direction. They were dangerous because they were unapolagetically smart, and because they seemed to have a specific world-view that unnerved a lot of people.
On one hand it’s kind of reassuring that they appeared to grow out of their more strident characteristics, and in fact they likely would not have endured so long had they not matured.
But one can’t help but think that their music lost something along the way as a result.
Coleridge was perhaps one of the earliest headbangers.
Long before Iron Maiden started raiding Coles’ Notes for their song lyrics (‘Rime of the Ancient Mariner'), Rush delivered this superb epic. I think, as an adaptor of classic literature, Neil Peart manages rather better than Steve Harris.
Musically, this is Rush at their early best, with grandiose riffs and exquisite instrumentation. Vocally, Geddy Lee is at his most piercingly insane. As a kid, I was initially turned off by Rush because of the voice, but I eventually got used to it. You realize at some point that it suits the music. I read on some website that the vocals make the sound that much more ‘otherwordly,’ which I think sums it up.
The introduction to this song is so exhilarating that I want to become a feature filmaker so I can use it to score some panoramic opening shot. The rest of the song is, like a lot of early Rush, pieced into easily digestible and recurring sections.
The knock on Rush, especially in their early days, is that they are self-indulgent. Once you get past the length of the ‘songs,’ though, you find that they are a very spare, tight outfit. There is actually not much self-indulgence in this stuff at all.
Their breakthrough album, ‘2112,’ features a side-lenth opening ‘track,’ yet if you listen to it it is pieced into memorable two and three minute parts. Their early work reminds me of the lean, nicely-paced version of ‘Tommy’ that The Who serves up on the ‘Live at Leeds’ album.
In fact, one can say that Rush actually became more self-indulgent later in their career. I’ll gladly take an 18 minute ‘song’ divided into a half-dozen well-constructed pieces over a quartet of four or five minute tunes based on less interesting music.
The other thing about mid-to-late Seventies Rush is that they really were kind of freakish. With songs like Xanadu, and politically charged pieces like 2112, they conveyed a sense of overweening ambition, even fanatacism.
Nowadays, they seem embarrased by it, but it gave them an edge that is elusive to a lot of Canadian bands. Most rock fans (internationally, at any rate), don’t really buy Canadian groups in the conventional rock role as debauched, dangerous badasses.
Rush went at it from another direction. They were dangerous because they were unapolagetically smart, and because they seemed to have a specific world-view that unnerved a lot of people.
On one hand it’s kind of reassuring that they appeared to grow out of their more strident characteristics, and in fact they likely would not have endured so long had they not matured.
But one can’t help but think that their music lost something along the way as a result.
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Played a show at the Railway last night. 21TR was the last band on a four band bill. The previous bands had stuck the bass rig over on stage left.
Now, usually that's my side. I switched to the right for the show, and the first song was a bit of a wreck for me. I'm thinking "Here we go; this is what happens when you disrupt rock band feng shui."
Things settled down, though, and it ended up being a very solid set, which led me to think I should be on the right side all the time.
I remember Smash and I used to argue about which side to go on. He seemed to like the left as well, though he generally played on the right most of the time. I tend to like the left because it's the side of a lot of the guitar heavyweights of Yore (and not so Yore). Page, Iommi, Townshend, Van Halen, Cobain, Morello, Buck, Clapton (in Cream), Frehley, (Steve) Jones, May, Hammett, to name a few...all stayed on the left side.
Keith Richards was also on the left, though he was generally outflanked on that side by Bill Wyman. Nowadays, the Stones' bass player stays back, and Richards really does look like he's playing left wing (though, to use a soccer analogy, it's probably best to call him a midfielder).
There have been some notable right-side guitar gods. Hendrix comes to mind. Of course, Hendrix played left handed, and thus sticking to the right allowed him to more easily face the rest of the band. Given that he did a lot of queueing on the fly, this may have been the most expedient positioning.
Alex Lifeson plays on the right, as does Govt. Mule's Warren Haynes.
So I don't know. Is it better to be part of the left side tradition (if it is a tradition), or would it suit me more to be a right side exception? Or is there a different tradition for multi-guitarist bands, as opposed to single guitarist bands? I'll have to hire a consultant for this.
******
About two songs from the end of last night's set, a guy who had been teetering around in front of the stage for most of the show caught my eye and said, in an offering, enquiring tone of voice: "I play guitar."
But of course you do. You want to come up and take over? Do you figure my arm is tiring in the late innings?
This is part of a growing trend. There's a movie called 'Wedding Crashers;' well, now we have a class of people I'd call 'band crashers.'
I remember playing with Stoke at the Cottage Bistro some years back. A guy who was a co-worker of the drummer's wife came up and asked if he could be the lead singer.
"I wanna be a star," he said, in a quiet, pleading voice.
UPDATE:
I'm thinking of The Edge and Johnny Marr, both of played on the right side. Maybe this left side guitar thing is not a such a tradition after all.
Now, usually that's my side. I switched to the right for the show, and the first song was a bit of a wreck for me. I'm thinking "Here we go; this is what happens when you disrupt rock band feng shui."
Things settled down, though, and it ended up being a very solid set, which led me to think I should be on the right side all the time.
I remember Smash and I used to argue about which side to go on. He seemed to like the left as well, though he generally played on the right most of the time. I tend to like the left because it's the side of a lot of the guitar heavyweights of Yore (and not so Yore). Page, Iommi, Townshend, Van Halen, Cobain, Morello, Buck, Clapton (in Cream), Frehley, (Steve) Jones, May, Hammett, to name a few...all stayed on the left side.
Keith Richards was also on the left, though he was generally outflanked on that side by Bill Wyman. Nowadays, the Stones' bass player stays back, and Richards really does look like he's playing left wing (though, to use a soccer analogy, it's probably best to call him a midfielder).
There have been some notable right-side guitar gods. Hendrix comes to mind. Of course, Hendrix played left handed, and thus sticking to the right allowed him to more easily face the rest of the band. Given that he did a lot of queueing on the fly, this may have been the most expedient positioning.
Alex Lifeson plays on the right, as does Govt. Mule's Warren Haynes.
So I don't know. Is it better to be part of the left side tradition (if it is a tradition), or would it suit me more to be a right side exception? Or is there a different tradition for multi-guitarist bands, as opposed to single guitarist bands? I'll have to hire a consultant for this.
******
About two songs from the end of last night's set, a guy who had been teetering around in front of the stage for most of the show caught my eye and said, in an offering, enquiring tone of voice: "I play guitar."
But of course you do. You want to come up and take over? Do you figure my arm is tiring in the late innings?
This is part of a growing trend. There's a movie called 'Wedding Crashers;' well, now we have a class of people I'd call 'band crashers.'
I remember playing with Stoke at the Cottage Bistro some years back. A guy who was a co-worker of the drummer's wife came up and asked if he could be the lead singer.
"I wanna be a star," he said, in a quiet, pleading voice.
UPDATE:
I'm thinking of The Edge and Johnny Marr, both of played on the right side. Maybe this left side guitar thing is not a such a tradition after all.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
I live in a relatively small building whose residents tend to be professional types. Lawyers, actuaries, teachers, doctors, bureacrats, etc.
Of course, a building needs repair and upkeep. One thing I've noticed consistently over the years is how dismissive most of these white collar types are of anyone doing repair work. While many of these people are making good money in fields that often provide a fair amount of job security, they get indignant when a tradesman of repair man delivers a bill for work done.
The idea that a guy working with his hands should be able to make a good leaving seems to peeve these people to no end.
Any kind of mechanical aptitude and training is a highly marketable commodity. If any of these white collar geniuses could actually do anything for themselves, it would presumably drive down the price of blue collar work.
But they can't, or won't, then they squeal like hell when someone who can do the work expects payment.
Of course, a building needs repair and upkeep. One thing I've noticed consistently over the years is how dismissive most of these white collar types are of anyone doing repair work. While many of these people are making good money in fields that often provide a fair amount of job security, they get indignant when a tradesman of repair man delivers a bill for work done.
The idea that a guy working with his hands should be able to make a good leaving seems to peeve these people to no end.
Any kind of mechanical aptitude and training is a highly marketable commodity. If any of these white collar geniuses could actually do anything for themselves, it would presumably drive down the price of blue collar work.
But they can't, or won't, then they squeal like hell when someone who can do the work expects payment.
Saturday, March 04, 2006
I was on my way back from Rob 'Mule' Hughes' place last evening around midnight, walking down the north side of the 300 block of W. 11th Avenue. I turned the corner to head north on Yukon Street, and what do I see coming toward me but a large skunk.
My first instinct when I come across animals like this is to get as close as possible to them without disturbing them (indeed, I had just had a conversation with the Mule that touched on sea otters and seals at the gulf islands). So I'm thinking I'll sneak up on the snunk, then I think "what the fuck I'm I doing? It's a frigging skunk! It'll spray me and render my duds unwearable!"
So I cross to the other side of Yukon, just in front of City Hall's East Wing, and watch the skunk meander up the street, onto West 11th, and into someone's yard.
As I walked along I was thinking how this is exactly the thing I'd call and tell my dad about the next day. A skunk in the city. It's just the kind of thing he'd get a kick out of.
Me: "I saw a snunk last night, near City Hall."
Dad: "Yeah? I've seen a few skunks hanging around around there myself."
My first instinct when I come across animals like this is to get as close as possible to them without disturbing them (indeed, I had just had a conversation with the Mule that touched on sea otters and seals at the gulf islands). So I'm thinking I'll sneak up on the snunk, then I think "what the fuck I'm I doing? It's a frigging skunk! It'll spray me and render my duds unwearable!"
So I cross to the other side of Yukon, just in front of City Hall's East Wing, and watch the skunk meander up the street, onto West 11th, and into someone's yard.
As I walked along I was thinking how this is exactly the thing I'd call and tell my dad about the next day. A skunk in the city. It's just the kind of thing he'd get a kick out of.
Me: "I saw a snunk last night, near City Hall."
Dad: "Yeah? I've seen a few skunks hanging around around there myself."
Monday, February 27, 2006
Monday, February 20, 2006
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Here's what I wrote three days ago:
"I expect that Harper, who's biggest political strength is that he's a quick study who learns from the past, will use the office of Prime Minister to shore up his Captain Canada credentials."
And here's what happened today at a Harper press conference, according to CTV:
***
Without having been questioned on the issue, Harper turned his sights on comments made Wednesday by the U.S. ambassador to Canada, David Wilkins.
The ambassador was critical of Harper's plan to bolster military presence in the north and assert Canada's sovereignty over the Arctic. Wilkins also pointed out that the U.S. doesn't recognize Canada's claim to the Northwest Passage.
Harper had little time for Wilkins' position.
During the campaign, Harper's critics warned he would waste no time bringing Canada closer to the U.S. if he were elected, but his comments instead seem to demonstrate a staunch nationalist position.
"I've been very clear in the campaign that we have significant plans for national defence and for defence of our sovereignty, including Arctic sovereignty," Harper said. "It is the Canadian people we get our mandate from, not the U.S. ambassador.''
"I expect that Harper, who's biggest political strength is that he's a quick study who learns from the past, will use the office of Prime Minister to shore up his Captain Canada credentials."
And here's what happened today at a Harper press conference, according to CTV:
***
Without having been questioned on the issue, Harper turned his sights on comments made Wednesday by the U.S. ambassador to Canada, David Wilkins.
The ambassador was critical of Harper's plan to bolster military presence in the north and assert Canada's sovereignty over the Arctic. Wilkins also pointed out that the U.S. doesn't recognize Canada's claim to the Northwest Passage.
Harper had little time for Wilkins' position.
During the campaign, Harper's critics warned he would waste no time bringing Canada closer to the U.S. if he were elected, but his comments instead seem to demonstrate a staunch nationalist position.
"I've been very clear in the campaign that we have significant plans for national defence and for defence of our sovereignty, including Arctic sovereignty," Harper said. "It is the Canadian people we get our mandate from, not the U.S. ambassador.''
Monday, January 23, 2006
So it's a Conservative minority, though a weaker one than most expected.
Nonetheless, after listening to practically every right-wing pundit in the country complain endlessly for over a decade about how politically retarded Canada is for sticking with the Liberal 'one party state,' it appears, as I've stated previously, that all conservatives needed to do to be given a chance by us nanny-state addicted zombie robots was
a) Stop fighting with each other, and
b) Act like you don't hate the country you want to govern.
Although he ran a skillful campaign, and managed to hit some nicely nationalistic notes (especially on asserting sovereignty over the north), I'd say Stephen Harper's past baggage (statements re: 'Northern European welfare states,' ect.) may have stalled what could have been a bigger Conservative win. Indeed, had the Liberal attacks on Harper not been undermined by various moronic assertions ('soldiers in our cities') and insane policy ad-libs (Paul Martin's pledge to ditch the constitution's notwithstanding clause), the Liberals might have pulled this one out.
I expect that Harper, who's biggest political strength is that he's a quick study who learns from the past, will use the office of Prime Minister to shore up his Captain Canada credentials. I'm wondering, for instance, if he'll pull some clever and perhaps unexpected foreign policy moves, or make some winning overtures to Quebec Premier Jean Charest (if Charest can win re-election, there will be a decided mood of relief in the country from which any sitting Prime Minister would likely benifit). As always, Harper's achilles heel may well be the guys around him; is Stockwell Day really going to be foreign minister? (Maybe I'm underestimating Day; he might go down well in Washington these days.)
One of the real positives of this federal election is that we now have two major national parties...more or less. The Liberals are now completely shut out of Alberta, which could be an issue down the road. The Tory breakthrough in Quebec has provided citizens of that province with two viable federalist options. It's simply not healthy for the Liberals to have a corner on the federalist market in Quebec; as we've seen, if the Liberal brand becomes tainted, the entire cause suffers.
As for the Liberals, the famous machine imploded. Paul Martin's goon squad of advisors--the gang who wrestled the party from Chretien--sowed so much acrimony and backlash that the Liberals started to look like the old Tories. Martin's departure paves the way for an interesting leadership contest. Watch for the famous Liberal discipline to return in time, and the party's relatively strong showing means that they'll be better positioned for a comeback than if they'd suffered a genuine rout. Again, though, leadership contests take a while, and Harper will not dither in the meantime.
Looking at British Columbia, I was initially suprised that the Conservatives didn't do better, but after a closer look at the results, maybe it's not such a stunner after all. In 2004, the NDP lost a handful of very close ridings to the Tories as a result of a last minute 'stop Harper' left-wing swing to the Liberals. You see, when the politically illiterate try their hand at strategic voting, they sometimes get it wrong.
This time, there was no last minute desertion, and the NDP candidates in a lot of these ridings held their ground. For example, Dawn Black in New Westminster. Last time, she lost by about a hundred votes after some of her support drained to the third-place Liberal candidate. This time, she held her vote (maybe even got some Liberal votes), and gained the riding. The NDP gains in BC are not so much a breakthrough as a correction.
It's also notable that, with the exception of Vancouver East, all the ridings in the city of Vancouver proper, and many of it's adjacent municipalities (Richmond, North Van, West Van) are solidly Liberal. This is something that has developed over the past 10 to 15 years, and it brings the core of the Lower Mainland into line with the city centres of Toronto and Montreal. We speak of east vs. west, and yet it increasingly appears that many Vancouverites have more in common with their big city eastern siblings than with the rest of their own province.
Nonetheless, after listening to practically every right-wing pundit in the country complain endlessly for over a decade about how politically retarded Canada is for sticking with the Liberal 'one party state,' it appears, as I've stated previously, that all conservatives needed to do to be given a chance by us nanny-state addicted zombie robots was
a) Stop fighting with each other, and
b) Act like you don't hate the country you want to govern.
Although he ran a skillful campaign, and managed to hit some nicely nationalistic notes (especially on asserting sovereignty over the north), I'd say Stephen Harper's past baggage (statements re: 'Northern European welfare states,' ect.) may have stalled what could have been a bigger Conservative win. Indeed, had the Liberal attacks on Harper not been undermined by various moronic assertions ('soldiers in our cities') and insane policy ad-libs (Paul Martin's pledge to ditch the constitution's notwithstanding clause), the Liberals might have pulled this one out.
I expect that Harper, who's biggest political strength is that he's a quick study who learns from the past, will use the office of Prime Minister to shore up his Captain Canada credentials. I'm wondering, for instance, if he'll pull some clever and perhaps unexpected foreign policy moves, or make some winning overtures to Quebec Premier Jean Charest (if Charest can win re-election, there will be a decided mood of relief in the country from which any sitting Prime Minister would likely benifit). As always, Harper's achilles heel may well be the guys around him; is Stockwell Day really going to be foreign minister? (Maybe I'm underestimating Day; he might go down well in Washington these days.)
One of the real positives of this federal election is that we now have two major national parties...more or less. The Liberals are now completely shut out of Alberta, which could be an issue down the road. The Tory breakthrough in Quebec has provided citizens of that province with two viable federalist options. It's simply not healthy for the Liberals to have a corner on the federalist market in Quebec; as we've seen, if the Liberal brand becomes tainted, the entire cause suffers.
As for the Liberals, the famous machine imploded. Paul Martin's goon squad of advisors--the gang who wrestled the party from Chretien--sowed so much acrimony and backlash that the Liberals started to look like the old Tories. Martin's departure paves the way for an interesting leadership contest. Watch for the famous Liberal discipline to return in time, and the party's relatively strong showing means that they'll be better positioned for a comeback than if they'd suffered a genuine rout. Again, though, leadership contests take a while, and Harper will not dither in the meantime.
Looking at British Columbia, I was initially suprised that the Conservatives didn't do better, but after a closer look at the results, maybe it's not such a stunner after all. In 2004, the NDP lost a handful of very close ridings to the Tories as a result of a last minute 'stop Harper' left-wing swing to the Liberals. You see, when the politically illiterate try their hand at strategic voting, they sometimes get it wrong.
This time, there was no last minute desertion, and the NDP candidates in a lot of these ridings held their ground. For example, Dawn Black in New Westminster. Last time, she lost by about a hundred votes after some of her support drained to the third-place Liberal candidate. This time, she held her vote (maybe even got some Liberal votes), and gained the riding. The NDP gains in BC are not so much a breakthrough as a correction.
It's also notable that, with the exception of Vancouver East, all the ridings in the city of Vancouver proper, and many of it's adjacent municipalities (Richmond, North Van, West Van) are solidly Liberal. This is something that has developed over the past 10 to 15 years, and it brings the core of the Lower Mainland into line with the city centres of Toronto and Montreal. We speak of east vs. west, and yet it increasingly appears that many Vancouverites have more in common with their big city eastern siblings than with the rest of their own province.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
I periodically tune into Coronation St. for a stretch, somewhat in the way that one revisits an old album. Seeing a fresh round of Sally Webster serious faces and Gail Roberts hand-to-hip stances is like putting on a ragged but comfortable sweater.
So I switch it on the other night, and who is playing the role of a sketchy novelist but Sir Ian McKellan!
And he fits right in!
Who's next? How about the return of some long lost teen strumpet, now grown and sophisticated, and played by Helena Bonham Carter?
********
Speaking of Coronation St., I was reading an article on The Smiths' 'The Queen is Dead' album. The inner sleeve bears a famous photo of the band standing on Coronation St. itself, in front of the Salford Lads Club.
After the photo, Morrissey sent a card to the photographer that included this reflection:
"Fatal Regret: I should have worn my mud-coloured cardigan."
So I switch it on the other night, and who is playing the role of a sketchy novelist but Sir Ian McKellan!
And he fits right in!
Who's next? How about the return of some long lost teen strumpet, now grown and sophisticated, and played by Helena Bonham Carter?
********
Speaking of Coronation St., I was reading an article on The Smiths' 'The Queen is Dead' album. The inner sleeve bears a famous photo of the band standing on Coronation St. itself, in front of the Salford Lads Club.
After the photo, Morrissey sent a card to the photographer that included this reflection:
"Fatal Regret: I should have worn my mud-coloured cardigan."
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