To All Tomorrow's Parties...

And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow's parties
A hand-me-down dress from who knows where
To all tomorrow's parties



And where will she go and what shall she do
When midnight comes around
She'll turn once more to Sunday's clown
And cry behind the door



And what costume shall the poor girl wear
To all tomorrow's parties
Why silks and linens of yesterday's gowns
To all tomorrow's parties ~ The Velvet Underground


Happy 2007...Play Safe!

Intermission

High On Christmas Eve

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even me
(I am a night owl like no other)
The stocking was hung by the chimney with care,
In the hopes that St. Nicholas would soon be there
(I’m not kidding, I'm usually up at this hour…I'm crazy!)
I was nestled snug inside my big, warm bed
With wicked hallucinations dancing in my head
(mushrooms on Christmas Eve was a bad idea)
When out on the lawn, there arose such a rattle
And I thought to myself, ‘what’s a battle?’
(I love Ralph Wiggum)

Away to the window I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and brought with me my stash
I looked around, and saw nothing indeed…
“Hey man, stay a while, I’ve got some weed!”
When what to my wondering eyes should appear
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer
“Woah…this is some really good shit…”
I said to myself...I was tremendously lit
There was an little old driver, so lively and round
I knew in a moment just who I had found

More rapid than crackheads at the sight of a pipe
He whistled for his sled team with all of his might
Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Prancer and Vixen!
On Comet! On Cupid! On Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the wall, and over the grass
“And Blitzen, stop sniffing poor Dasher’s ass!”
So up to the house top the reindeer did fly
With a sleigh full of toys, and scared shitless old guy

When I went to take a whiz, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof
So I zipped up my fly, and was turning around,
When down the chimney St. Nick came with a bound
He was dressed all in fur, from his hat to his boot,
The fucking old man was a murderous old coot
A bundle of toys were flung on his back
But I couldn’t get over the clothes on his back
“Dude, don’t you know that fur isn’t cool?”
“Fuck you man, this hide’s from a rotting dead mule!”
His eyes how they twinkled and sparkled and shone,
‘Yup, dudes on crack…better leave him alone!”
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a bow
“You wouldn’t happen to have any blow?”
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth
As the crack smoke encircled his head like a wreath

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf
I nearly shit my pants in spite of myself
A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head
‘Oh shit, he’s possessed…I’m fucking dead!”
He spoke not another word, went straight to his work,
Filled up my stocking, and turned with a jerk
‘Alright Mr. Neil, you’ve been a miserable git…
You need to lighten up, or your life will be shit
I left you a present that I think you can use,
To improve your self worth, and the life that you choose.”
And with that he laughed a full belly chuckle,
Adjusted his hat, and tightened his buckle
He flashed me a grin, and got onto his knee
Before charging back up that dirty old chimney

I wondered for a second just what he had left me
What in the world could possibly help me?
I looked inside, and a smile crossed my soul
That old motherfucker had left me some coal
“Oh Santa, oh Santa, the joke is on me,
You’re one funny fucker, that I can see"
“Hahaha, he laughed, the look on your face was out of sight
Merry Christmas you hoser, and to you a good-night”

Playing In The Snow...

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Best (& Worst) of 2006

I saw a lot of good movies this year, but I kept my list to a top 10. I could easliy have made it a top 20...

Best Movies (some of these are 2005 releases that came out on DVD in 2006…which is how I saw most of them.)



Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada
Brick
The Proposition
Capote
Stranger Than Fiction
Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang
Syriana
C.R.A.Z.Y.
Little Miss Sunshine
Corpse Bride

Worst Movies

The Weather Man
The Pink Panther
American Pie Presents: Band Camp

Best Albums



Rather Ripped ~ Sonic Youth
The Information ~ Beck
Pearl Jam ~ Pearl Jam
Broken Social Scene ~ Broken Social Scene (2005)
Friendly Fire ~ Sean Lennon
Guero ~ Beck

Best Album I Haven’t Heard Yet

Fishscale ~ Ghostface

Worst Album

I don’t listen to shite...

Favourite Songs

Lights Out ~ Sonic Youth
The Information ~ Beck (T.I.)
Cellphone’s Dead ~ Beck (T.I.)
Rats ~ Sonic Youth
Farewell Ride ~ Beck (Guero)
Superconnected ~ Broken Social Scene
Modern World ~ Wolf Parade
Life Wasted ~ Pearl Jam
World Wide Suicide ~ Pearl Jam
Dead Meat ~ Sean Lennon
Or ~ Sonic Youth

I hope everyone has a happy and healthy 2007, and that the great movies and music continue…cause there isn’t a thing on TV these days!

"Ooo, those goody-goody Smurfs make me sick!"

I don’t know what it was about these little blue guys (and girl)…but I have very warm memories of virtually everything to do with The Smurfs. From the TV show, to the board games, to one of the first videogames I ever played…it was like everything they touched was gol…er, blue.

Unfortunately, my memory being what it is, I don’t recall the names of all the Smurfs, just the main ones. Of course there was Papa Smurf, with his white beard, and his red (not white like the others) cap and pant/shoe combo. Then there was the only female Smurf in the entire village, Smurfette, with her long blond locks and her frilly dress. And no, I never thought she was ‘hot’ or anything like that. Now Bugs Bunny dressed up as a woman…

The rest of the Smurfs were a hodgepodge of ‘seven dwarves’ type characters…Sleepy, Lazy, Handy, Brainy (did a little research on wikipedia). They lived in mushroom houses, ate ‘smurfberries’…and would manage to incorporate ‘smurf’ into virtually every sentence. How smurftastic!



Of course, the show wouldn’t have been exciting or nearly as entertaining if not for the ying to the Smurf’s yang…enter Gargamel. This poor old sap really had it in for the Smufs. I forget what it was he was after (if anything at all), but if memory serves it was almost if he and the Smurfs had some sort of tenuous agreement that allowed both sides to live somewhat peacefully in the forest…but ‘war’ was only an overheard song or a stomach craving away (I think he wanted to eat them?). Gargs was your typical ugly villain, with bald head, missing teeth and ratty black robe (with obligatory ‘patch’ job)…I think he had a cat too.

Anyway, I still have a little Smurf sitting on top of my TV…I hadn’t noticed him a long time…until a couple of days ago when I got to thinking of he and his tribe. I sure hope Gargamel hasn’t gotten the best of those blue little guys…and girl.



Merry Christmas...hehehe...

On A Train To Nowhere...

I’m tired. I haven’t slept well in over a week and my bones, my soul and my brain are weary. I feel as if my life is caught in one of those amusement park rides that go ‘round and ‘round and pins you to the back wall…powerless to break free of gravity’s hold…locked in the cage. Everything spinning all around me, a blur of colours and lights…my stomach churning with balls of dizzyingly nervous energy. Catching great gulps of breath as I try to dislodge the frog in my chest, I just want to survive. And just when things start to slow down, and I think they might let me off…the ride starts up again, and I’m back against the wall…going around in circles again. Enough already…

My brain is my enemy. So is my heart. Uncontrollable, I am a galloping stallion to the sting of their whips. Two glowing masses of tissue and blood, they instill in me equal parts wonder and weariness. I am so tired of this broken telephone. I am a loss for words. I am the director of this tragedy…the one who delivers the script…the one who chooses the stage…and I am ultimately the one who destroys the whole production before the curtain can ever rise. I’m my own saboteur. My own assassin. Maybe I did stray too far so long ago? I won’t ever get where I thought I was going…

Have I been going the wrong way all along? Or is this a recent development? That’s what you get when you don’t ask for directions. Were those feeling I felt way back when just a figment of my imagination…my environment? Or simply alcohol and drug fueled reactionary kicks? Spasms of the cortex…aftershocks still ringing in my ears. What about what I feel today? Is any of it real? Or is it all locked up inside...my own internal music box and projector playing just for me and me alone? Puppet show for one? Maybe its time I just got off this train…forget the next stop. How many times can I crash before I don’t get up?

Just Give It To Littlefeather

Transcript of Neil’s Time Magazine Person of the Year Acceptance Speech



“Thank-you…thank you, it truly is an honour…I didn’t know I was even nominated…(pause for laughter). But seriously…after the year I’ve had, I can’t accept this award with a straight face. I mean, with all the shit going on in the world, all the men and women fighting for peace and justice or simply just to live, the soldiers dying in conflicts...you think some nobody sitting in front of a computer screen blogging about nothing in particular, watching clips of some idiot getting butted by a ram is worthy of being called the ‘Person of the Year’? The thought is nice…but come on, get real!

So, it is with utter confusion that I respectfully decline this award. Just give it to Littlefeather or someone…”

Where's Neil?

I just wanted to make a ‘correction’ to my last post when talking about me having ‘nobody’. That isn’t true. Despite our sandpaper type relationship, I do still appreciate the fact that both my parents are still alive, and still together. I love both my mother and father, but our relationship is difficult. There is love, respect, caring…but also a lot of head scratching, head shaking, occasional frustration and borderline disgust. My parents are good people, but at this point in our lives, we have very little in common.

I also have a younger brother who, after years of looking up to me, has now surpassed me in almost every way. I was a very good soccer player…he is a great one. I was moderately popular back in the day…my brother still is, and to a greater degree. Etc. He’s even more artistic than I am in many ways…and while I know he did all this on his own, I like to think that the example I set (both positive and negative) helped him in some way…but like my parents, he and I are quite different and are motivated by totally different things. Having said that though, I think he’s the only person in the world that I’d take a bullet for without a second thought. He is, after all, my little brother…and despite outweighing me by a good 40 pounds, he always will be.

My family is a lot smaller than it has been in years past. In the last 5 years we’ve lost an Uncle, an Aunt and the family matriarch…my Gran…and the remaining members of our tiny extended family are separated by an Ocean…but while distance and time are tough obstacles to overcome when it comes to family, blood is blood…and there is an unspoken, undefined bond that binds us together…so even if I can’t see them, or talk to them, or give them a big hug, I still ‘feel’ them…and that is something.

So…while it may feel like I have nothing, I know deep down I am a lucky guy to have a family…and being the black sheep of the flock is alright, cause at least I’ve got a flock to call my own.

General WTFness

*I apologize for the cryptic melodramatic shit…I’m a bit worn down from a lack of sleep (about 10 hours in the last 3 nights) and my mind is playing tricks on me…that or I’m hearing voices. Sometimes, I just feel like I’m fighting a losing battle. No matter how much I try to stay positive, or try to keep my emotions and feelings in check, I inevitably slip on some emotional black ice and find myself with my foot in my mouth, rubbing my bruised ass. I’ll can feel right on track, hours turning into days…chugging away towards the horizon, and then some idea will pop into my head, and it will be all I can think of. Old habits die hard…VERY hard.

Today, it was frustration with my lack of enthusiasm for the Holidays that made me feel like waving the white flag…feeling like everyone is getting ready to gather at their respective family ranches for an at home Christmas, visiting with friends back from University…parties, eggnog and dry homemade cookies…while I’ll be slaving away, serving customers as they spread all that holiday cheer in my face and then coming home to nothing. I was so unenthused about Christmas this year I volunteered to work Christmas Day….a full 7 hour shift, just so I could avoid feeling like shit on the day itself (or at the very least, having a good reason to feel ‘Scroogy’). I’ve also had a handful of acquaintances simply disappear from my radar…too busy or too distant to reach out and say hi. I am not a needy person, at all…but I was enjoying coming home to find a ‘hello Neil’ or a ‘hey, guess what I’m up to’ in my inbox…but I guess family and flesh and bone friends come first at this time of year (and there are only so many hours in the day…) so I’ll quietly sit in the corner and mind my own business. It’s tough though…to like someone enough to care how they are doing, to genuinely care…and not feel like you’re getting through to them. I’m sure I’m reading way more into it than is necessary, but the disconnect can be mighty frustrating when your guts are telling you one thing, your heart another, and your head something else.

"Feelings...nothing more than feelings..."

Don’t get me wrong, part of this is all tied into loneliness and feeling like I’m on a deserted island where the messages in bottles aren’t making it past the first waves…I can’t deny that…but I deal with those feelings all the time, and they always pass after a couple of hours…I am hardly what you would call a ‘lonely’ person (or maybe I am…but I’ve spend the better part of my adult life on my own and I’m rarely motivated to change the situation…but that could easily be chalked up to self loathing and a lack of confidence…so who knows…) but its like an extreme case of boredom where you just can’t find anything to distract yourself. You just sit and the bad thoughts and feelings start to mutate to the point where they take over…and the only thing that will help is booze, drugs, or sleep…none of which I have at my disposal right now.

So after working a 7 hour shift, I do actually feel better…like I just burned up the rotten pile of garbage lodged in my soul running around like a madman…so that’s why I wanted to add this little ‘note’ to my post…it was a moment of weakness and nothing more…

I wish I had happy news, or something better to add…but my brain feels like grinded up ice cubes, and even though all I want to do is sleep, I’m sure it’ll be early morning before I actually accomplish that goal.

Nighty night…

Untitled

Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated. ~ Lamartine

After reading this quote, I couldn't help but think about the tragic loss of Laura Gainey at sea over the weekend...and how when something like this happens, it really stops you. The fact that she's the daughter of a famous Canadian hockey great adds to the impact of the story, but anytime I hear about someone lost at sea it sends a chill up my spine. I can't imagine how hard it must be to deal with that kind of loss. Its a real shame what happened to that girl and my thoughts are with her family.

Ooooo...

I saw a news clip last night announcing that none other than Prince will be playing the Halftime show at SuperBowl XLI. Does this strike anyone else as being odd? I mean…I thought there was this big uproar a couple of years ago when Janet Jackson and Justin Timberlake played show and tell with Janet’s piercing…resulting in every live event since being put on 7 second delay…and now they’re cool with ‘the Purple One’ playing for 1 billion fans across the world? I mean really…half of the guy’s songs incorporate him making little squeals and squeaks of innuendo laced delight…he's quite androgynous...the guy just oozes sexuality…he hasn’t been relevant since 1992…but he’s playing the Halftime show at the SuperBowl?

What…Marilyn Manson was already booked? They couldn’t find Sir Mix-A-Lot’s number?


I don’t get it…

Under Construction part 2...

Alright J, I'll bite...

You see, I’m a bit of a dreamer…and not much of a do-er. For years I got by on my wit, intelligence, good manners and ability to pretty much talk myself out of any situation. High School was a rough ride scholastically (and socially), but when the chips were down and I needed to get my grades up to get into University…I did. Same at University. My first year was a drunken blur…I can recall many nights putting things off to go out drinking with people I barely knew (or even liked for that matter), then staying up all night the day before something was due, punching something out on my keyboard, editing it and printing it off. It was a rare thing for me to get lower than a C+...so I kept using the system. Almost sleeping in the day of a tests, skipping about 40% of my second semester classes…this was the norm, and I still was able to pull a solid B average going into year 2.

2nd year was nearly a disaster…I literally lived at a house where my friends from High School, who were not enrolled in the University lived…and proceeded to smoke and drink myself even sillier than the year before. We would go days without being sober.

Years 3 and 4 were quite possibly the best two years of my adult life…I had a small group of cool friends, I was entering into more specific territory when it came to my degree (lots of Media and Film related courses), and had two very cool roommates who I got along with. Best of all, I felt like I could be me...I stopped trying to impress anyone and everyone...now if you didn't like me or you didn't know me...or if I missed the gathering at Dave's to stay in and chill with my buddies and play NHL on the Playstation...I didn't really care. (OK, I did...still do...just not as much...) We weren’t big party guys, but we had our circle, and within that circle we had a lot of fun. We also learned a lot about each other and ourselves. Great times!

When I left school, I took a job with my hometown buddies in their new Artist Management/Record Company…and pretty much just kept on doing the same thing I had been doing. I mean, it was Hip Hop for fucks sake…and for a while we lived the life...and I don't even like 98% of Hip Hop. That lasted nearly 2 years…my sense of loyalty and friendship getting me through the last 8 months or so. Then it was off to England for a year to try and learn my now deceased Uncle’s business…real estate. The experience was great, but the business was a mess and I really couldn’t see myself trying to impress ultra rich pseudo British royalty in order to be able to rent out their mansion. It would have been a nice, comfortable life…but I would have been lying to myself, so I gave it up and moved back to Canada.

That was in September of 2004...I was still getting by...only just.

Since then, I’ve been floating. Working low paying jobs where I can keep my head down, scrape out a living, and punch out and leave it behind at the office when the whistle blows. But over the past couple of months, I’ve been feeling myself change. I know I’m selling myself short…I didn’t mind before, but now it kind of bothers me. How many C+'s could have been A's? How many friends would I have today if I had just tried a little harder? Maybe I might have owned a house by now?

Hindsight being what it is, I can clearly pinpoint the day when I started to question myself and my motives…May 8th…the day I had a gun waved in my face and pointed at the back of my head while I was told to get down with my hands behind my head…

It only lasted about 5 minutes…but the lingering effects have been reverberating inside me since. The first few weeks afterwards, I was a mess...but I was able to pull myself back together and went back to work. Part of that was just my ego, part of it was me not wanting to have to go through looking for another job. I kept working the night shifts, kept smiling for the customers…but I wasn’t the same.

As time went on, I started to get back to normal…the flashbacks became less frequent…I was Neil again...or so I thought. They tell you all sorts of things after you’ve been through something like that. How you’ll react…and how to avoid falling deeper and deeper into the hole. I got the list. But for some reason, I wasn’t able to see everything that night had done to me…until much later. I've always been someone who shuts out other people and doesn't take help...even if I probably need it...and that's what I did again. It took a while...but I’m much clearer about what happened now.

A part of me was ruined that night…beaten to a pulp and left for dead. I imagine its sort of like how someone has a small heart attack and a little piece of their heart dies. They live...but their ticker just isn't the same. I knew it then…but I wasn’t sure what part of me had been turned black…and I’m still not totally sure…but it was like someone pressed a reset button, and I had to relearn who I was, what I liked, what I wanted all over again. An emotional stroke of sorts.

For a long time, I’ve felt like a tall, old-fashioned abandoned building…complete with a still respectable exterior, but slowly rotting from the inside out. People walk by and hardly notice. Some people might take a second glace, or 'feel' something is off...but its not clear or strong enough for it to really register. I also don't have a lot of close friends, and the majority of thsoe I hardly ever see now...so I'm never called on it. However, over the past few weeks, I’ve taken it upon myself to stop the decay. I’ve wholeheartedly embraced Buddhism and the art of positive thinking, I’ve reached out to old friends…and attempted to make new ones…even if only virtually…attempting to find myself in my words and thoughts towards others.

And it has helped.

The scaffolding has slowly been erected around this dilapidated brownstone…work is in progress…and slowly, I’ve been picking away at the rotten beams and broken windows…the chipped tile and dusty walls. I’m building myself back up…only better and stronger (hopefully) than before…and when the work is finally done, and the scaffolding comes down, hopefully the passers by will say…

“Wow…they did a nice job with that old building! I think I’m going to go knock on the front door and see who lives there now…”

The new me is going to try as hard as he can to avoid falling into the 'safe mode' that has been my operating system for going on 10 years now (and quite possibly my whole life). I'm still punching in everyday, still living in my cave...but I know I want more now...I do deserve better. Its not going to happen overnight...it'll take time, like learning how to play guitar (which I finally intend on doing!). I'm pretty sure I'll probably take a few backwards steps along the way (this is ME we're talking about remember?) but at least now I'll be calling myself out if I do. I'm not throwing out all of old Neil's stuff...its the regrets and the missteps and the what if's that are being put out by the curb...with all the other garbage that's been piling up for 27 years.

Under Construction...

You know when buildings are getting a ‘facelift’ and they have all that scaffolding up…that’s sort of how I feel right now.

Live! Tonight! Beck!

Beck: Live at the Rehearsal Hall

Bravo @ 8:00 pm

* The show was great. Fun 'laid back' vibe, with the band playing glass bowls and library bells...and one very versitile Casio. Not to be missed if your a fan. Clap hands.

Broken Fingers

All I got is garbage tonight (well, I thought last nights blog was garbage too…but I soldiered on) so I’ll spare you. Some nights my brain is a like raging rapids…other nights it’s a dried up riverbed. I wish I had more control over it…but I don’t. I’m forever at its mercy. Its like everything I want to say is at the tip of my fingers…its right there…but I can’t punch the keys. There’s a frayed connection somewhere. Meditation is supposed to help, but how can 20 minutes of peace compete with 12 hours of confusion? At least the days are getting shorter…

Anyways Mayonnaise...

I like music...and I love good music. But 'good music' can mean something totally different from one person to another. Can there really be 'bad' music if someone still buys the record, or cheers at the live show? I don't like the Killers...their music is ok, but I just don't like them. But do I look down on people who do like their stuff? 5-10 years ago, I would probably have answered yes...but today, I say to each their own. Music is a powerful thing, and if like something, if it hits you where it matters...then who am I to say your taste is shit? If you like the Killers and think they're the next big thing (as so many magazines would like us to believe...which reminds me, what ever happened to the Strokes?) then I'm happy for you, its cool...but to me, they're one or two steps away from being as cheesy as the Darkness. Meh.

I first fell in love with music when I was a small kid. My parents listened to a lot of music, and my Dad has a very respectable vinyl collection (which will one day be mine...I called dibs) and I remember going through those records in the basement and bringing the same two up each time, much to my parents chagrin...The Beatles 'red' and 'blue' greatest hits albums. My parents liked the Beatles, but they weren't big fans...but I was. I was too young to know what love was, why I was a walrus or why Lucy was in the sky with diamonds...but to me, it was just...

I also remember thinking that Freddie Mercury looked like the toughest dude on earth on the cover of one of the Queen albums that my Dad had (the one with Radio Gaga)...with his moustache and wife beater...only to later find out years later he was as gay as they come. I don't even know if my dad knew he was gay...

But this was all my parents music...so after a while, I sort of lost interest...all those family vacations down south, spending hours in the car, listening to the same ELO mix tape over and over and over and over again (I know the words to so many of their songs), or having to sit through my parents and their friends listening to 'Lady in Red' 1000 times totally killed music for me for a while. Then...I was introduced to Public Enemy. 'Fear of a Black Planet' isn't the first album you'd think a white kid from an upper-mid class family living in suburbia would connect with...but it literally changed my life. 'SHIT...these guys are angry!' I thought. 'Is it really this hard to be a black man in America?' And those beats! It was probaby my first real introduction to the issue of race...but beyond that, I think I connected with it so much because I was a young kid, almost a teenager, who felt like there were too many rules...and I wanted to rebel...and this was the music that made me feel like it was ok to be angry, because there were good reasons to be angry (even though I wasn't black). And of course, because my parents hated it! I listened to rap for a while...everything from Ice T & N.W.A. to Fresh Prince & DJ Jazzy Jeff and Digital Underground. Back then, there was no such thing as 'hip hop' culture...Nike was just starting to put out the Air Jordans and Air Max...British Knights were cool...and people were wearing Hypercolor T-shirts...but you could wear a Bulls jacket, or a Raiders hat backwards and you felt like you were 'representing'.

And then...I still remember Alex Nantel walking into the end of the year party in grade 8 (I think) and telling everyone about this tape he had by a band called Nirvana...he had sported the t-shirt a few times at school, but I had no idea who they really were. He put the tape on, and the rest, as they say, is history...

From that moment, I went from benig a punk who listened to rap...to a punk. Don't get me wrong, I never sported a mohawk...never got a tatoo or piercing...never got one of those red flannel coats and I still wore rugby shits, did my homeword and had short hair...but I had the punk ethos tatooed on my heart and on my brain. All this weird, wild and wonderful music started getting played on the radio and on Much Music...and it seemed as if it was all for us! Bands that really rocked...who did drugs, partied and were "cool", but who also played benifit concerts for rape victims in Kosovo, were anti coporate, anti establishment, anti war, pro choice and told the jocks in the crowd to behave or get the fuck out of the arena...they were on the cover of Rollingstone and were playing to 60,000 people in Brazil! They were stars! People with principals (or so we were led to believe) who didn't really care how many records they sold or how many people came to the shows. The 'losers' and 'outsiders' were finally getting their moment...and I was 13-14 years old and they were talking to me...because, lets face it...I was a bit of a loser.

Of course, like anything, there was an expiration date on all this rebellion...and sometime in 1994 things started to change. The next wave of bands weren't as cool as the pioneers who came before. Bands were starting to be manufactured...just put some ripped jeans and a lumberjack coat on them, turn the feedback nob up to 11 and tell them to sing like Eddie or Layne. Alternative Rock mutated and became 8 different sub genre's...and the bands that got the dance rolling were starting to fall by the wayside. Death, Drugs and Disillusionment. Record executives started to think they knew what the kids (and their parents) really wanted...and soon the 'pop' sensation was starting up again and alternative was back to being an alternative to the mainstream instead of the mainstream. The moment had passed. Sure...what happened in 1991 (and leading up to 1991...Sonic Youth, R.E.M. and so on) was a special thing and it did change the music industry for the better, opening doors (and bank vaults) to bands and artists that might have never gotten a sniff at major label money...and broadening the horizons of kids like me who might otherwise have turned into little yuppies. There have been a few 'aftershocks' in the years since (the 'the' band craze...where all the bands had 'the' in their name and they all had hair and clothes that was styled to look like it hadn't been styled) but nothing compared to the sea change that hit like a freight train in the 90's.

So it was a fantastic surprise to be surfing the net the other day and come across a myspace page for a band I loved, loved, loved...Transistor Sound & Lighting Co. These 3 guys from Winnepeg made only one album (that I know of)...and, biased as I may be, it still ranks up there as one of THE great grunge/alternative/lo-fi albums of the era. Every song is a gem...a kaleidoscope of beautiful alternative fuzzy feedback coated angst and out of tune singing. From what I read on the site, very few people actually bought this album...and it is no longer in print...so these 3 songs might be turn out to be a cruel tease for all of you in 'net' land...but I'll share them anyways......mayonnaise.

(There probably is a better way to do this...but I am new at all this text huperlink stuff...so this is the best I could do. If anyone knows of a better way (or if I'm doing something wrong) let me know.)

Sasparilla ~ Transistor Sound & Lighting Co.

Prince Vince ~ Transistor Sound & Lighting Co.

Anyways Mayonnaise ~ Transistor Sound & Lighting Co.

The Beatles ~ Daniel Johnson

The 411

I’ve got big plans and even bigger dreams. But I’m stalling…have been for a while, only I’m not sure why anymore? It's in my head. I’m intelligent, thoughtful, sensitive, stubborn, a loner. But I’m also unsure. I can be quite charming and funny…but I don’t control the switch. I lack the type of self-confidence that results in a fine, streamlined exterior, but inside…I’m the Aura Borealis. At gatherings I’m usually shy and uncomfortable. I cannot mingle and I don’t know where my pack is. I’m a very good judge of character…if I think your cool, I’ll let you know about it. I see through the bullshit. I don’t like games, but I’ll play if I think she’s worth it...(come on, who wouldn't???) I like fleece coats, ‘double’ socks and long johns. Comfort over Style…unless it’s demanded. I think my taste (or lack thereof) in footwear is my Achilles Heel. I clean up nice…but you really have to twist my arm (or ask me nicely). I enjoy sports, but not as much as I used too. R.A.D. (Retired Athlete Disorder). I’m loyal, some would say to a fault, but I am what I am, and if I like something, it takes a lot to change my mind. There isn’t a lot I ‘hate’, cause hate burns, but there is plenty I dislike. I like writing nonsense to keep my typing skills and wit sharp, but I also like to use words to connect on a level that I can’t using the ones that come out of my mouth (which is terribly ironic if you know my surname). I might be lazy…but I don’t want to be. Sometimes I hide behind odd metaphors and clichés…attempting to paint a prettier picture of myself...or a murkier one, but the truth invariably finds a way to shine through. I’m a minor disappointment to my family, a strange bird, a black sheep…but they still love me in their own way. I mean well and most people I’ve come across on my journey seem to have good things to say about me despite the cloud that hovers above. Depending on what I'm doing, I fuel up on Jack Kerouac, Edgar Allen Poe and Dr. H.S. Thompson...Vincent Van Gogh and Andy Warhol...or Stanley Kubrick. Despite the porcupine quills, I’m a softie. The good news is, I’ve still got time…we all do...


...we just don't know how much...

The Blue Man...

"Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone."


"Youth has no age."


"It isn't what you have, or who you are, or what you are, or what your doing that makes life happy or unhappy. It is what you think about."


"The best way to make your dreams come true is to wake up."

Pablo Picasso