I'm working on my Voivod story for Unrestrained! at the moment, so I thought I'd take this opportunity to post something I've had to cut from the piece.

I got to see Voivod five times between 1990 and their final tour in 2003, and each gig holds some special memories. I think my favourite Voivod moment, though, was at their last show in Vancouver, opening for Ozzy Osbourne and (cough) Finger Eleven. It was the first show I'd seen with their new bassist Jason Newsted and the returning Snake on vocals. Even though they were playing early to a partially filled arena, they came out and killed, playing "Voivod" as their first number (the best bands have a s/t theme song—Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Motörhead...um...). Anyway, their playing that power-drill thrasher was the one of the most defiant, joyous things I've ever witnessed at a concert.

When I got the chance to talk to Newsted last March at the Katorz listening party, I had to ask him about that moment, and why they opened their set with that particular song. It turned out there were some very good practical reasons behind playing it.

"That’s how it was supposed to be," he said. "That’s how they did it for so long. It's just bringing it out—we’re here! That was one of the things as a band that always charmed me about them. No matter how many times you’d see them they’d either open with it or close with it. You were going to get crushed one way or the other. And especially in a situation on an Ozzfest or a thing where you’re playing with three bands like on that particular tour, you’ve got to put a song out there as the first four minutes for your mixing guy to make sure all the mikes are working and everything’s happening. We all sing on that song and all the instruments are full on and it’s got a change, the swells and everything, that gives the mixing guy a chance to go find the lower volumes, and then it crushes full on, as full volume as we’re going to go all night, so he gets to dial that in before the set starts. It’s such a racous type of song that it doesn’t really matter how shitty the sound system is, it’s still a fucking cool song because of how basic it is. So that’s really what it is. It can be in your face and raw as possible, and that’s even a better thing. Whereas if you come out with 'Astronomy Domine' [Voivod's minor-hit Pink Floyd cover] or one of your very delicate, very finessed-type songs it’ll take the mixing guy till the fourth song to get your shit together. So, that’s kind of a tactical manouver at the same time as it is this slap in the face."

I wanted to say farewell to this old chum—my faithful JVC CD player. The first album it played was U2's The Joshua Tree, and the last disc its laser caressed was Duke Ellington's Piano in the Foreground. The LED display burned out several years ago, but I only gave up on it after the tray stopped sliding out last week. This anomaly negatively affected the user experience.

So meet the new boss—our Panasonic DVD/CD player, so generously donated by Mel and Adam down the hall a couple Christmases ago. After a trip to The Source at Kingsgate Mall for extra cables (no, I don't think I will buy the extended three-year warranty) I was back enjoying the tinny, overcompressed sounds of the world's latest obsolete media format.

Six Organs of Admittance, July 30, The Media Club
Openers The Christa Min didn’t smile, acknowledge the audience or appear to enjoy their own music. I don’t have any patience for that whole “I’d rather be napping” schtick. Musically speaking, the sextet’s songs are okay, if a little predictable once you grasp the formula most of them follow. Their last song did have some drama and power. I remember it from the last time I saw them at Mesa Luna, and I have the main riff stuck in my head right now.

I’m new to Six Organs of Admittance—thanks to that relentless kid at Outer Space Gamelan and Unrestrained! Adam for alerting me. I’ve been enjoying their new album The Sun Awakens (Drag City) for a few weeks now. Singer/guitarist Ben Chasny, who has connections to Comets on Fire and Current 93, makes music that’s difficult to categorize. I’ll go with psychedelic folk and leave it at that. While their music is bleak and ethereal on record, it takes on a more explosive quality on stage. Chasny wields a potent Telecaster in front of drummer Noel Von Harmonson and third member Steve Quenell playing a mysterious tone generator (which on closer inspection comprised a vintage radio unit, some effects pedals and a small mixing board). They opened with a shorter yet more abstract version of “River of Transfiguration,” the side-long piece from The Sun Awakens. Chasny set off bursts of noise like Neil Young in his Arc days and the drummer sprayed snare shots and pounded a gong. We were getting into Wolf Eyes and SUNN O))) territory for a while, what with the drones and the random elements, until things settled down for the rest of the 45-minute set. I recognized “Bless Your Blood,” “Black Wall,” and a jam based around “Torn By Wolves” and ”Wolves’ Pup,” the two instrumental tracks that bookend side one of the album. The arrangements of the songs I knew were sufficiently different from the album that I imagine a Six Organs… live recording would be well worth hearing. The main thing is, the trio were right into it through the whole show, with Chasny lurching around the stage, conducting the band by swinging his guitar neck around, and the other two responding in kind. That's all I ask for—musicianship and passion.

British MPs reveal favourite albums in today's Guardian Unlimited...in which they're outed as a pretty righteous crop of politicos. Despite attempts like that sorry list of top conservative rock songs, true rock does not observe party lines. I couldn't help noticing, though, that the sickos who namechecked Tarkus and Atom Heart Mother were on the Labour side of the fence. Comrades in prog, unite.

I doubt a survey of Canadian MPs would produce such an interesting list, although I'm sure the Bloc MPs would do themselves proud.

I continue to labour for the Voivod cause. Tonight I watched a chunk of Rock Pig: Karaoke, withstanding Nirvana cover versions (would everyone leave poor headless Kurt alone?) and the sight of Dave Navarro's ambisexual cyborg face to check up on our lad Jason. There he was, loud 'n' proud in a Voivod shirt (not as shown left) just as he promised in Montreal back in March. So what if he was playing "White Rabbit" instead of "Black City"? He was logging some serious screen time in that thing.

Writing’s become really hard again. All I do is worry and procrastinate. When I finally sit down I end up stringing clichés together. This scares me, because I have a buttload of writing to do over the next few weeks.

NoMeansNo played the Vancouver Int’l Jazz Fest on June 29. Trust me to attend probably the least jazz-like gig of the entire festival. Though it was a satisfying combination of bands, none of them swung particularly hard. Italian trio Zu were already playing when we walked into the Commodore. The guy on baritone sax wore a Slayer Reign in Blood shirt, which indicated what kind of destructive sensibility they wielded—relentless bass/drums/sax chaos in the style of Ruins. Very enjoyable, especially up close, where you could feel and see the full force of their ragged-edge musicianship. Smash was impressed by the bassist’s Traynor Monoblock, which was a variant he hadn’t seen often.

Norway’s Wibutee were a damn sight more chilled-out; equipped with a brace of iBooks along with standard rock band instrumentation. They reminded me of Radiohead or Sigur Ros with flute and saxophone leads—kind of like a post-millennium Weather Report, to introduce some kind of jazz touchstone. Definitely a tight outfit, though their propensity to play against sequenced backing tracks quashed any chance of them actually catching fire. Thanks to the Norwegian government for bringing them out here!

Time for Nomeansno. “I guess it’s now official: we’re jazz-punk,” Rob Wright said before they’d played a note. In true sketchy punk rock fashion, Tom Holliston's guitar rig immediately died and the Wright brothers had to struggle through most of the first song as a duo. There were rumours that this would be the last-ever NMN show. This is silly talk, as their website confirms:

"On June 29th, 2006, NoMeansNo will be playing their final show ever at the Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver, Washington British Columbia. The quartet, made up of Rob Wright on drums, John Wright on guitar, and Ernie Hawkins on bass and vocals, have felt that after twenty-seven albums and fourteen years of existence, the time has come to announce their farewell to the music world with one final two hour bash, where they will play their entire musical back catalogue, including hits from their masterpiece Something Better Change, from 2003. The performance will include appearances from past, present and future NoMeansNo members, such as Jello Biafra, Greg Ginn, Robo and Chavo. Ticket prices have jumped from $19.50 to $99.50, as the band belatedly realized this is the very last chance they'll have to exploit their fanbase for beer money and the rider demanding a package of trail mix and two bottles of Old Crow bourbon. The band wishes to express their deepest appreciation for the last twenty-seven years of making music before their retirement from the music industry forever on June 29th.

Be sure to see the band in Tofino on June 30th, Lund on July 1st and Denman Island on July 2nd."

No, NoMeansNo will outlast us all. They will be teaming up with the cockroaches to release split 7-inches after Armageddon.

I’m buggered if I can remember much of the set list—with 20+ years’ worth of songs to pick from, plenty of hoary old classics got an airing. Now that I think about it, they did play “The Tower,” “No Fucking” (which dates way back to the Mama tape), and “Rags and Bones,” as well as some new songs from All Roads Lead to Ausfahrt (out August 22, though they did toss a few advance copies into the crowd). For an encore, they did their gritty version of "Bitches Brew," with the sax guy from Zu supplying some additional parping.

I catch myself taking music for granted way too often. The fact that NoMeansNo are one of my favourite bands and they're local means I haven't caught every show they've performed in Vancouver recently, including a gig about three blocks away from my place the week before the Jazz Fest gig. Pure foolishness. It was sure good to check in with them again at the Commodore.

Just writing from the spanking-new and airy Grimsby Public Library. I'm watching a huge summer thunderstorm through the computer area's huge floor-to-ceiling windows. We don't get weather like this at home. I've got 27 minutes left on this internet session, so I hope the rain eases up before I have to head out to the car. I'm here for a few days to help fancylady with a family emergency. The worst of that particular storm is over, but there's still a lot of work to do at her dad's house. Sit tight; the music will be back soon.

PS...
SQ on TOTP.

I felt like having a whinge about the demise of Top of the Pops, but I'd just be putting on airs. I've only ever seen one episode in my life—this one [YouTube], which tweaked my 11-year-old mind, no doubt. I can't claim that I grew up with it. Still, its cancellation is a sign of something else, something definitely worth a whinge.

It's a given that fewer people care about music anymore. Music is just data, stripped of mystique, to be copied, experienced, and deleted. Anyone who does give a damn what goes in their ears can pursue their interests to the narrowest of any possible niche. A Slipknot fan of average intelligence and resources can work backwards through Slayer, Maiden, and Sabbath and back again through The Dillinger Escape Plan, Melt Banana, SUNN O))) and, having plowed through history and dismissed everything as "old hat," end up amassing an exhaustive collection of Sri Lankan Tamilcore jazz-grind...all in a couple of months. The notion of a single forum for exposing all "pop" music, such as TOTP, is outdated. Not even a whole television channel presenting the breadth of popular music can keep viewers. MuchMusic and MTV mainly air reality shows, because we're all celebrities now. Everyone's a pop star, and we can all buy products that the stars enjoy and join their world of make believe.

People are more interested in gadgetry these days. The corporations have better control over that stuff. People can't just make their own iPods or flatscreen TVs the same way they can rip and burn the new Keane CD. Hardware has cachet. That's why A&B Sound downtown has cleared out all the music from their main floor and replaced it with flash gear for the home. If you're after that new Tool album with the 3D glasses (can't download those!), you'll have to wade through the TVs and digital cameras, round the corner, and take the escalator upstairs. That's where you'll find the art...out of sight, out of mind.

Status Quo Beat Me Up!
On Coronation Street last Sunday, Chesney came running up to Les: "Les, it's the Quo!" Les's favourite band were a mere few doors down, quaffing pints in the Rovers (under the eye of their road manager Ralph Brown, nearly reprising his role as Danny in Withnail & I). Les wasn't having any of it. He wouldn't believe it even when Chesney took off with Les's jean jacket and returned it marked with Francis Rossi's and Rick Parfitt's autographs. Eventually Les got with the plot—too late—as the band got in their van to leave. Our ginger-haired hero gathered up his Status Quo LPs and took chase, catching up and yelling at them through the van window. He couldn't keep up, though, and the van rounded the corner and disappeared...only to circle the block and stop in front of Les. His elation at seeing his heroes return was short-lived, as Rossi and Parfitt jumped out of the van and beat the snot out their biggest fan. Seems that sometime in the '80s, Les jumped on stage at a Quo gig and accosted Rossi with enough gusto to put the guitarist in a permanent neck brace. "This is for 20 years of pain!" Rossi yelled, fist connecting with Les's face.

So yeah—best episode of Coronation Street ever.

When I'd recovered sufficiently I took a walk up to Neptoon Records to flip through their bargain bin. They've always got something worth having for $2.00. I found a copy of On the Level, an album that got a lot of screen time that morning, sitting atop Les's pile of vinyl. And it's great. You can't not like Status Quo. They're friendlier than Nazareth, not as self-obsessed and macho as Thin Lizzy while rocking just as hard as either. On the Level has some real stompers, like "Little Lady," "Down Down" (#1 in the UK), and a roaring version of Chuck Berry's "Bye Bye Johnny." Full-tilt Brit-boogie at its finest.

The aftermath of the Les-battering incident saw Les and Cilla plotting to sue the band for assault and injury, so I'm predicting more Quo on Corrie very soon, probably in some kind of settlement scenario where the band play a free gig and plug their new greatest hits collection. Wahey!

Today The Guardian pokes at death metal's purulent underbelly and discovers an artform that both sexes can enjoy. It's true—everyone looks good in a Dying Fetus shirt.

It got me thinking that it's been a while since I was blown away by an unadulterated death metal album. I wanted to like the new Decapitated record, but the constant ultra-triggered double kick drums pretty much ruined it for me. Augury's Concealed really impressed me, although I haven't had many opportunities to spin it since picking it up at their show a couple months ago. Before that I'd have to go back to last year and Bolt Thrower's magnificently crustified comeback Those Once Loyal and the mindblowing Atheist reissues for some old-school death metal satisfaction.

Anyone got any new-school recommendations that are gonna make me forget about Pierced From Within or Here in After?

So it seems that Norway's Borknagar, cosmic black metallers of some renown, have an acoustic album in the works. Sounds like a good idea to me, and I'm looking forward to hearing their swirling compositions presented in a less bombastic format. Besides, their last couple releases, Empiricism and Epic, were quite samey, and giving their sound an experimental overhaul could be exactly what they need.

Going acoustic sometimes seems like a desperate gambit for a creatively spent band, but I'm sure Borknagar aren't aiming to simply remake some "hits," giving them a radio-friendly sheen for the 18-to-35 drivetime audience. The few one-off "major departure" releases from their heavy metal peers have been credible. I thought Opeth's toned-down prog move, Damnation, was a spectacular success, while Green Carnation's The Acoustic Verses from earlier this year was a very enjoyable release.

Green Carnation are probably best known for their 60-minute concept song/album, Light of Day, Day of Darkness, an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink production that hit a number of a moods while never losing its flow or sounding anything less than grandiose. After that album, they retreated to shorter, more rocking material on Blessing In Disguise and The Quiet Offspring, before unplugging for their latest album, a project to celebrate Green Carnation's 15th year of existence. I talked to guitarist Tchort (who's been involved with Emperor, Carpathian Forest, and the ultra-heavy Blood Red Throne over the years) for Unrestrained! #30. Here's some stuff I had to whittle out of the finished article.

Do you think you'll perform any of these songs from The Acoustic Verses in electric versions? Do you think they'll change in the coming years?

I think Kjetil [Nordhus, vocals] mentioned that his song "Maybe?" was a song he originally wrote that for the full band, but then he made a different version for this album. So that one maybe will be presented later on as a full band version. But I can easily see us doing these songs during a full band live set, maybe in the middle of the set, take everything down and play some acoustic songs before continuing. We’ve been thinking a lot about how to do this in the future because we started doing a lot of acoustic shows as well. We did a couple acoustic shows in Finland with really, really good response as well. A lot of the other material like Blessing in Disguise and also stuff from The Quiet Offspring works really well in acoustic form. So it’s possible to do both separate, but it’s also possible for us to do it combined. You never know.

Do you still think about The Quiet Offspring? Will you be still going on the road to promote it?

We do play a lot from The Quiet Offspring, and we never played as many shows as we do right now. We never set up a tour for The Quiet Offspring. We did a European tour for Blessing in Disguise and that was the first tour we ever did. We were supposed to do a European tour in January and early February, but it seems our keyboard player has double booked himself with another band. I think it’s going to be split up to do long weekend shows in different countries. We do promote both The Quiet Offspring and the EP [The Burden is Mine...Alone]and the new album in every forthcoming show. We have four albums and a back catalogue that we need to promote. For example, Light of Day, Day of Darkness, people don’t want to hear a small portion of it, they want to hear the whole thing and then you end up having a three-hour setlist. That’s not always easy to work out either, so...

That's almost a special event kind of thing, isn't it?

It is. It requires a lot of equipment and so on and it’s always a big problem to bring on flights. The keyboard for this Canadian trip [to Toronto's Day of the Equinox Festival last October, where they played the entire Light of Day...] weighed 60 kilos that was 70% more than the maximum weight that Air Canada would allow, and that was just for one piece. So it was a big problem fighting at the airport just to bring it into Canada or get it out of Norway and bring it back again.

This is the first album you’ve done with your new production company, Sublife Productions. Why did you form Sublife?

Because I think that I will have different goals within the next few years. In previous years it’s been touring especially with Carpathian Forest, whom I also play with, and then there’s Blood Red Throne, whom I also tour with, and then there’s Green Carnation, whom I also tour with. I have a son at home and it’s not that easy anymore to go on the road and have 200 travel days a year, so basically I’m trying to see a little ahead, and I see myself cutting down on touring. I need to do something at home that still can be possible to combine with touring, and having a regular job doesn’t let you combine that. So I decided to form this company together with Kjetil our vocalist and basically do what I’ve been doing for the last five years, and that’s working as a booking agent/management/recording label for my other bands. Kjetil's also in Trail of Tears and another band called Chain Collector. So it’s basically doing the same thing we’ve been doing these past years but now under a specific name and just making it an official company.

Is it a way of controlling your career instead of leaving it in other people's hands?

Not really, because I don’t have problems…I have been working with a lot of great labels like The End Records, so I don’t have any problems leaving some of that responsibility with others. But it’s basically just having something to go back to when you don’t go on the road as much as you used to.

What other kinds of acts are you interested in working with and possibly signing?

We decided to go with a very local aim, meaning that we feel that bands from our area [Kristiansand] have great quality and a lot of potential, but it’s usually bands from Bergen or Oslo that people abroad know about. All the bands that you hear about in foreign magazines are Oslo bands or sometimes Bergen-located bands, but we feel that the bands where we come from have just as much potential and maybe even a greater quality to them, and we decided to focus on our own bands and tried to push some of the local bands. So you’ll be hearing from some local bands in the future and I think they have a great potential to get somewhere, of course depending a lot on the work that we do.

I had planned to go see Nomeansno and Removal on Saturday night, but I learned once again that there's a crucial difference between "have plans" and "have tickets." The show had sold out by the time I tried to score some on Saturday morning. Oh well. I made the rounds of the stores downtown and bought the new Celtic Frost album, along with PJ Harvey's Please Leave Quietly DVD.

With the show a no-go, I stayed in and watched Blue Velvet for the first time in years. David Lynch loves music and odd sounds in general, which is one of the reasons I like his movies. From a musical angle, Blue Velvet's an important movie because it was the first time Lynch worked with Angelo Badalamenti and Julee Cruise (who got involved because Lynch wanted a song with a similar atmosphere to This Mortal Coil's "Song to the Siren," to which he couldn't get the rights).

It's cool how he'll bring a film to a halt so one of the characters can sing an entire song. Blue Velvet seems almost entirely driven by music. Isabella Rosellini sings the title track and Dean Stockwell lip-synchs "In Dreams". In Wild at Heart, Nicholas Cage/Sailor hijacks a Powermad gig to croon "Love Me" for Laura Dern. Eraserhead has "Heaven (the Lady in the Radiator song)" and Twin Peaks has my all-time favourite Lynch musical moment—I think I've written about it here before—James, Maddy, and Donna's home-fi session in episode 9.

Watching that Wild at Heart scene with Powermad again, it's funny to notice that Sailor's Elvis-style martial arts dancefloor moves match exactly what I've seen in the pit at all-ages hardcore shows over the last few years.

If you don't like puppets and puppetry, you might be dead inside. Come on—the Muppets? Thunderbirds? Casey and Finnegan? Meet the Feebles? There's even a Mule puppet, a sock augmented with frizzy hair and a miniature jeansuit that Super Robertson made for skits at the Supper Show. When it's off-duty, resting at home, Super's daughter likes to gnaw on its eyes, so it's clear I'm a hit with the kids.

A few weeks ago, fancylady came back from Happy Bats with this movie called Strings. I think we intended to get Capote or Walk the Line, but Truman and Johnny would have to wait. There were puppets to watch. Above all else, Strings is beautiful to look at. The sets are unbelievable, and the puppets are incredibly expressive, especially considering their faces are static except for moving eyelids. They have a universal, timeless quality. The storyline is serviceable, with the most inspired element being the self-awareness of the puppets. They know they are animated by strings, and this is the foundation of their spirituality/mythology. The movie also carries a nice message about the interconnectedness of all living things, which, set against the plot's wartime backdrop, says a lot about the times we're a-livin' in. Insert your allegorical interpretation here.

In November 1969, puppets walked on the moon...sort of. I've been reading Destination Moon—The Apollo Missions in the Astronauts' Own Words, a book I got from the bargain table at Crapters a couple weeks ago. During their first EVA, the Apollo 12 astronauts were supposed to set up a fancy new colour TV camera. Unfortunately it caught a bright reflection off the Lunar Module (or directly from the sun, by some accounts), and burned out while Alan Bean was setting it up. With no pictures available, the TV networks rushed to find other visuals to convey the astronauts' activities on the lunar surface. According to the book, NBC "had contracted a puppeteer to create Apollo marionettes for simulations. They had a small lunar surface mockup, and soon two tiny puppets, strings clearly visible, were bouncing their way across the lunar surface." They say if you can remember the '60s you weren't really there...but who could ever forget that?

This week Metal: A Headbanger's Journey came out on DVD after a well-received theatrical run. I enjoyed this movie immensely, and I interviewed producer/director/narrator Sam Dunn for Unrestrained! Here's some material I had to cut from the article. I asked Dunn about his experience in Norway, where he filmed a segment on arson and murder-riddled Norwegian black metal scene in the early '90s, and about the fact that another film company has plans to film a docu-drama feature about those events. While the fact that Adam Parfrey (of Feral House Press, publishers of Lords of Chaos, about the rise of the satanic black metal underground) is on board as screenwriter lends some credibility to the project, metal fans will regard the movie with a lot of suspicions and cynicism.

I understand they’re filming sort of a docu-drama about the events in Norway. What do you think about that?

DUNN: "Well, I have mixed feelings about how it's going to portray what happened. I don’t know if it’s going to be purposely set in Norway, or how much they’re going to base it on real events. Who knows? We’ll see. I think it was a captivating story in a lot of ways. It’s hard for a lot of people to believe that it happened. That’s why we felt we needed to do this extra documentary [a DVD bonus segment exclusively about Norwegian black metal]. There was so much more to say than what we could say in the film. It is a part of the history of metal and certainly the anti-Christian sentiment in metal was something we wanted to cover. If we spent more than 10 or 15 minutes in Norway [in the movie proper], it would feel a little bit indulgent or unbalanced. As far as the feature film goes, we’ll see what happens. Maybe the metal community will be up in arms about it. That wouldn’t totally surprise me."

Certainly leading up to it there’s going to be a lot of cynicism.

"Absolutely, and you know what? We experienced the same thing with our film, and we still do. When we post something about the film on Blabbermouth we tend to get responses like, 'Oh my god, it’s got Slipknot and Rob Zombie in it,' and calling me a sellout. It’s amazing. You get that regardless. But thankfully people who have seen the film are chiming in and saying, 'Well, no. You know what? This film is really interesting and it’s respectful and it captures the history of this music' and stuff like that. So thank god some people are coming to our defence. (laughs)"

People are just very protective of their scene, I think.

"I think metalheads are inherently skeptical and fickle. It’s kind of part of the culture because it’s such a part of people’s identity and a part of their lives. I mean, all subcultures are kind of like that, right? It’s like a survival instinct that people have. The only way to keep it your own is to protect its boundaries, you know? (laughs)"

So now that you’ve sampled a few different lives—you’ve got your band [Burn to Black], you’re a filmmaker, you’re an anthropologist—what’s the closest thing to your heart?

"I think that I’m obsessively eclectic, so I want it all. I’m a megalomaniac in that sense. For me, I guess it's two things: we do plan to make a second film about metal that’s going to be looking at the globalization of metal and focusing on how metal has spread to very diverse countries and looking at how different religions and different cultures are affecting the music and vice versa—what this music means and how it is impacting kids in very different environments. Indonesia, Morocco, Brazil, Mexico, Russia, these kinds of countries are very diverse but all have very vibrant or budding metal scenes. I’m certainly interested in doing that, so for now another documentary on metal certainly piques my interest. For the long term I am interested in documentary filmmaking and I would like to pursue it, but I’m also applying to do my PhD starting in September. The idea is to tie that in with the next film, actually. We did feel that with Headbanger’s Journey we really only scratched the surface in terms of all the different places where metal thrives. We only went to Europe and North America, so we feel that we may have been complicit somewhat in painting the picture of metal as being a predominantly white Western phenomenon, whereas in fact it’s much broader than that. I’m really just fascinated in exploring what this music means to kids. I think it has a much more explicitly political slant in many of these countries because many of them are living in very repressive political systems and that kind of thing. Sepultura, for example, is the best known example of that."

Right after I wrapped up work on Unrestrained! I took off to Mayne Island with fancylady for a week. We called it a "working holiday," but our main aim was just to soak up the quiet, sleep in the dark (no streetlights outside our window), and get out for walks. We did take a few hours each day to work on our separate projects—fancy on her book and me on some music.

Smash kindly leant me his Zoom PS-02 "Palmtop Studio," which is basically a three-track recorder with built-in drum-and-chord sequencer. Very cool little device, maybe not ideally suited to the Mule method of recording, but perfect for capturing ideas quickly and with great scope for tweaking sounds with its 60 user-adjustable presets. When I had a firm idea of a given song's structure, I could assemble a decent demo in no time at all. When I only had a single riff to explore and build on, it lacked a few features I needed. For example, when punching in to fix a decent but flawed take, you can only monitor the track that you're punching in on and whatever drum/chord pattern you've programmed. When the piece I was recording had no drum/chord backing, I got completely lost whenever I had to punch in on a track (I learned that setting up a basic metronome track was a good idea for everything I recorded, even if there would be no rhythm track in the final mix.)

I came home with four or five short pieces finished. Because the PS-02 also appears to lack a fast forward function, it helped to keep those songs brief. I was constantly returning to the start when recording a new track, adjusting the drum/chord backing, or setting a punch-in point.

I'm close to having a new Mule album assembled, but I've been saying that for about three years now. I'm stuck with not having any lyrics/vocals for several songs that need them. Lyrics are a big problem for me since I abandoned the whole self-deprecating/low self-esteem B.S. I ran into the ground during my more productive recording years. Sometimes I'd rather just record instrumentals, but I feel that that's a copout too. I'm getting tired of the riff sandwich approach. Where's the craft in that? I get a lot of satisfaction out of making up vocal melody lines; I just wish I had something to say.

THE GATHERING
Home (The End)
It doesn’t start well. The sultry come-hither vocal melody that anchors “Shortest Day” contains more than a dash of saccharine, making one wonder if The Gathering have taken their sound too far into the realm of Cranberries-flavoured commercial pop. Happily, it’s a false alarm, as the band expertly steers the rest of the album through a brace of stellar songs interspersed with some interesting diversions. The sly melody and familiar chorus-time surge of “In Between” signal that all is well—if not better than ever—with The Gathering. By the third track, “Alone,” we hear the full potential of the band’s current direction unleashed—fluid, ingeniously arranged, and even a little menacing. Especially impressive is how they both employ and subvert verse/chorus/verse conventions by creating constant, nearly imperceptible momentum during the course of a song. The album’s highlight arrives with the fourth track, “Waking Hour,” itself highlighted by Anneke’s spine-tingling mid-song vocal excursion against a spare piano backdrop. Her voice is in full flight here, singing with a grace and control only hinted at when she belted out the tunes on Mandylion over ten years ago. The album gradually settles down via the abstract deep-space strangeness of “Fatigue,” the downcast beauty of “A Noise Severe,” and the tender “Forgotten,” only to rise to another peak with the title track, which strings the listener along with some compelling atmospheric guitar work before resolving itself in yet another standout chorus. Having lost track of The Gathering since 2000’s if_then_else, it’s great to rediscover the band working in such a confident, comfortable way. Home is the perfect place for them to be right now.

Unrestrained! has taken over my life right now. I'll come up for air and post more often when I'm done in a couple weeks.

This post starts with The Office, the American version of which has won me over. It's about the only U.S. network TV series with interesting-looking people on it. Steve Carell is fantastic as Michael Scott, a walking, talking hangnail of a human. I find the series doesn't centre on his constant humiliation the way the British series did, probably because that sort of humour would be hard to sustain (and tolerate) over 20-plus episodes a season or however many they're producing. The utter destruction visited upon David Brent (Scott's British counterpart) just wouldn't work over a long U.S. network season.

The American series also lacks the poetry of Gervais & Merchant's version. I'm thinking specifically of John Betjeman's "Slough" and how it informed every moment of the original 12 episodes of The Office. I need to read more of his work.

I first saw Betjeman's name mentioned in some Charisma Records "historical notes" inside my copy of Genesis's Nursery Cryme. Charisma founder Tony Stratton-Smith (RIP) writes, "We maintained too, a certain eccentricity: the comic invention of Monty Python (like Genssis, with Charisma for almost a decade) was laid beside the quintessentially english recordings of Sir John Betjeman..." Aha.

I've never actually seen a John Betjeman record—I'm sure they were deleted pretty quickly if they reached these shores at all—but I'm on the lookout now. According to this article in The Guardian, Sir John's hipper than ever. Anyone who treated guests to Scotch and shortbread—never mind wrote something scathing as "Slough" and was labelmates with Peter Hammill—is all right by me.

I watched American Idol for the first time last week. Sure, this show embodies evil in popular culture, and its producers, contestants, and audience should be castigated as the worshippers of Mammon that they are. But last week's episode was a salute to Queen, with the would-be Idols plundering the golden catalogue of Mercury/May/Deacon/Taylor for songs to massacre. I couldn’t miss that car wreck, could I?

The guy who sang a country-rock tainted version of “Fat Bottomed Girls” got voted off the island after the show. Good call, America.

Actually, all last week was Queen Week, with the Rodgers/May/Taylor "Queen Company" rock revue finishing their tour here in Vancouver. I didn't go, but I'm sure everyone had a good time. I also just picked up a Classic Albums DVD about the making of A Night at the Opera, an album that, when I was 12 or 13, I played until the vinyl was worn as thin as Bohemian Rhapsody's master tape. Because I've internalized that LP and taken those songs for granted for so long, the show contained some revelations. I'd never realized that "Sweet Lady" is in 3/4 time until Brian May demonstrated the riff in one of the DVD extras—the drums play it completely straight and mask the song's time signature. Clever. And May's explanation of "'39" really knocked me for a loop. He says it's about interplanetary time travellers, not emigrants from Europe going to the New World as I had always assumed. Guess my 12-year-old powers of interpretation were off, or I thought Rush had cornered the market on space opera stuff and didn't bother reading any of Queen's lyrics in the same light. Brian May, you are an extraordinary nerd and I salute you.

I haven't had cable for the past four years, so I've missed out on a lot of these Classic Albums shows. I don't mind being out of the loop too much. If I want to find out what's going on in mainstream culture, free TV can always offer me something, whether I want it or not. Locally, there's the Kool Countdown, a music video hit-parade roundup that fancylady and I end up watching with disturbing frequency on Thursday evenings. I think we can't look away for two reasons. 1) The show is based in Victoria, so it has that Island television low-budget CRTC-mandated local programming feel to it, as the host, the Garofalo-like Robin Farrell, touts whatever acts are playing the Save-On Foods Memorial Centre (Rob Thomas is coming!) between Madonna and James Blunt vids, and 2) Robin herself has a witty persona, enhanced by our suspicion that she hates all the music she presents on the show.

This one's for Super Robertson—Robert Wyatt singing "I'm a Believer" on Top of the Pops, a performance the BBC didn't air at the time (1974) because the sight of a paraplegic singing on television might have upset sensitive viewers...or something. Too bad about the prat doing the voiceover at the end. Seeing Wyatt blithely singing away while teenagers dance (not to mention Nick Mason on drums) more than makes up for it. Inspiring!

I first heard Wyatt's take on Neil Diamond's Monkees hit last year, after buying Solar Flares Burn For You, an odds and sods collection of Robert Wyatt material on Cuneiform Records. The album comprises two BBC Radio sessions from 1972 and 1974, a soundtrack for a short film (the title track), and three home recordings from 2002–2003, just to stop things from getting too nostalgic. The 1974 session is brilliant—Wyatt alone at a piano playing "Alifib" (shattering), and a more fleshed-out version of "Sea Song" from Rock Bottom, along with "Soup Song" and "I'm a Believer." The rest of the album is pretty inconsistent, from the abstract sounds of the title track to the silly "We Got an Arts Council Grant," to the cloying-yet-heartfelt "Little Child" (a song sung by Wyatt's childhood hero Danny Kaye), to the groovy loop-based jam "Twas Brillig" from 2002–2003. While they're inconsistent in terms of flowing together as a coherent album, each track is as defiantly eccentric and unique as its creator.

My Sunday rhythm-section teammate Christian Scum lent me a few Mojo mags last weekend, including the November 2005 issue which features a lengthy Wyatt interview. The inspiring quotes fly thick and fast: "I do have an intense greediness for stimuli. I get bored quickly. But I'm really scared of breaking the law. Pathetic, isn't it?" Or "I'd love to be a perfectionist. I always think I am until I hear the results, then I realise I'm not."

Once again, I hitch myself to Doomed to Rock's coat-tails and enter the realm of list making. Here are some of the best, most important gigs of my life.

Rush, Pacific Coliseum 1980
Fourteen-year-old me at my first concert, with Rush on the Permanent Waves tour. A shattering, otherworldly experience; the first collision between my limited self-perception and an existence more exotic, extreme, and intense than I could ever imagine for myself. I went home with my tour programme, ringing ears, and my rugby shirt reeking of dope and cigarette smoke. Again! Again!

Voivod, Soundgarden, Prong at the Commodore Ballroom, 1990
I can’t overemphasize the importance of this gig in my life. Not only were the bands either at their peak (Voivod) or ascendant and eager to slay (Soundgarden & Prong), but virtually all my present-day musical friends and collaborators were at this show. If it wasn’t for the bonding power of Voivod, my life would be a boring, drab thing at the moment.

Monster Magnet at the New York Theatre, 1992
I remember being really distracted the day of this show. I’d completely forgotten about it until my friend JR called, ready to pick me up. I think the lack of anticipation left me really vulnerable to Monster Magnet’s swirling space-rock assault that evening. The whole history of ROCK unfurled before me. Was it 1967? ’72? ’92? It could have been any era. Sandwiched between Paw and Raging Slab, they stole the show and prompted a personal epiphany regarding rock as a cerebral vs. visceral experience. An evening of flying hair, sweat and fists (none of which were mine).

Jesus and Mary Chain, UBC Thunderbird Stadium, Lollapalooza 1992
I remember a damp summer’s afternoon, with steam rising from the pit, and having pretty low expectations for these irascible Scots. But they came on and I was blown away by the strength and depth of their songs and their hollow-body guitars-and-shades look—unapproachably and unattainably cool. I knew them to be arrogant bastards, and based on this performance, they had every right to be.

Neurosis at the Town Pump, 1996
Man, I’ve never been so glad to be completely sober. My friend Smash and I bought tickets at the door and walked in blind, going on hearsay that Neurosis put on a good live show. Very true, as it turned out. Neurosis aren’t a rock band, they’re sensory overload, adding films, slides, and tribal drumming to their crusty/crushing avant-rock. Unbelievable that they could summon the will to pull something like that off every night on tour.

Sacramentary Abolishment in Edmonton, 1997
Hyped up by the unfathomable rage and fury of S.A.’s River of Corticone album, Smash and I flew out to Edmonton for this Halloween show that also marked the release of S.A.’s The Distracting Stone CD (their last before drummer Paulus left and the remainder of the band formed Axis of Advance). From the “Faces of Death” type video showing on the club’s TV monitors to the prospect of witnessing S.A. in the flesh, this was one of the more terrifying experiences of my life at that point, replaced in short order by the moment S.A. themselves took the stage and launched into a full set of Apocalyptic Nuclear Hate-filled Blackness.

Sonic Youth at the Vogue, 2002
A seated venue with great sound, a near-perfect setlist, and the best Sonic Youth gig I’ve ever seen. They weren’t out to stir shit up; they weren’t experimenting with new material; they weren’t limited by being part of a larger bill or festival. This was their night to be the best band in the world. I think they played every song off Murray Street. At a lot of gigs, you kind of just tolerate the songs from the new album; this was the kind of show where the new stuff sounded instantly classic.

Opeth at the Commodore, 2005
I’ve already posted a review of this show, so you might want to track that down. Suffice to say that after seeing two truncated Opeth gigs in Vancouver (one where their drummer bailed on them and one at the Sounds of the Underground Fest), a full-length Opeth show was a satisfying, heavy experience.

Honourable mentions: All Iron Maiden gigs, especially Scorpions/Maiden/Girlschool (Number of the Beast tour, 1982) and Maiden/Saxon/Fastway (Piece of Mind tour, 1983), long-gone local band Red Sugar, Morbid Angel, all International Guitar Nights, Between the Buried and Me, Removal, pre-Nevermind Nirvana, and the Melvins.

Here's a picture of Judge Smith to cap off a day I spent out of my mind with excitement after learning you can get Not the Nine O'Clock News on DVD now.

The picture also answers the heretofore unpondered question "Which member of Van der Graaf Generator went platinum?" Peter Hammill contributed to a couple of mega-selling Peter Gabriel albums, but it turns out Judge topped the charts first!

Race Highlights

Schumacher picks off another backmarker.


Torrid late-race action at the hairpin.

Peter Hammill (with Stuart Gordon)—Veracious
Peter Hammill has been generous with the live releases over the last few decades, starting in the mid-'80s with The Margin, a double set with the hard-rocking, short-lived K Group. Roomtemperaturelive followed in 1990, a lengthy document of his amazing North American tour with bassist Nic Potter and Stuart Gordon on violin—a bit of a cherished artifact personally, as this tour was the only time I’ve seen PH in the flesh. There Goes the Daylight appeared in 1993, another rock band recording reminiscent of the K Group sound. PH didn’t release a truly “solo” live album until 1999’s Typical (recorded on tour in 1992). As you might guess, the different collaborators and instrumentation result in Hammill exploring different facets of his music on various tours—reviving old songs, reworking the staples of the set, and generally mutating material away from its studio album staidness—which makes bootlegs a fairly valued commodity among the tape and CD-R traders in his fanbase. I think it’s Hammill’s “beat the boots” philosophy that’s resulted in the regular stream of live albums on his own Fie! label.

So here we have Veracious, one disc's worth of the gracefully aging Hammill performing at various European venues with Stuart Gordon sawing away alongside. The dozen songs are all drawn from his ’90s and ’00s albums except “Easy to Slip Away,” an ode to departed friends from his wrenching second solo album Chameleon in the Shadow of Night, and “Shingle Song,” a rarely performed ballad from 1975’s proto-punk concept LP Nadir’s Big Chance. “A Better Time” is a strong opener. PH hammers out a steady tempo on piano and SG follows suit, lacking the panic to fill musical space I often sense when I hear him play, all supporting the hopeful message of the song: “I’ll never find a better time to be alive than now.” The more delicate “Gone Ahead” and “Nothing Comes” are solid performances as well. Both songs depend on central hook melodies that Hammill, a performer who willfully abandons himself to the moment, is careful not to lose. As the album progresses, other songs aren’t treated so appropriately. Either they’re recorded inconsistently (“Like Veronica” sounds distant and boomy), or their arrangements abstract them almost beyond recognition and enjoyment. “Primo on the Parapet,” which received a majestic, hard-driving treatment by the band on There Goes the Daylight, suffers most from the sparse duo format. Another victim is “Shingle Song.” Hammill starts it a cappella, with guitar and violin gradually joining in. It’s here that Gordon’s onomatopeic playing becomes a nuisance. Nearly every lyric receives some kind of flourish in reply, and the effect becomes cheesy. For example, immediately after the line “Against the caterwaul of scattered call winds,” Gordon zings and zooms and whistles away as though caught in the breeze himself.

I can’t say Veracious features any definitive versions of these songs, but for fans it’s a decent document of PH’s recent activities, and serves to jog the memory regarding the finer tunes from his recent solo albums...as it did for me.

Me, browsing the new releases.
Shrinkwrap sticker: “Limited edition with bonus DVD.”
Me: “But of course.”
Yoink!

Aren’t record companies clever these days, with their strategies to get us to buy their product? Well, they are. They’ve sure seen me coming lately.

Here are a couple recent purchases with audio/visual bonuses.

Mogwai—Mr. Beast
It comes in a nice hardbound case displaying Emily Carr grad Amanda Church’s art in its jizz-splattered glory. It's a great album—heavy metal mood music and ominous post-rock jamming in 3 1/2 to 5 1/2 minute bursts. I’ve never been disappointed by a Mogwai album, though I admit I don’t revisit them often after the new-purchase honeymoon. The bonus 40-minute DVD is a fractured document of the album’s recording whose main aim seems to be demystification. Band members take turns answering questions (What’s the worst part about being in a band? “Trying to make up music. That’s hard”), lounging around on couches playing with their laptops, and laying down tracks. Brief and underwhelming live clips interrupt the studio footage. I pride myself on being able to decipher all varieties of accented English, but I’ll admit I wished for subtitles to clarify the Scottish mumbling at certain points. This special edition was worth the extra few bucks, as it’s saved me the $25 that I’d have spent on a ticket to their upcoming gig if I hadn’t watched this DVD first.

The Devin Townsend Band—Synchestra
Having received two promo copies of this marvelous album, I felt duty-bound to buy the fanciest legitimate copy I could. This one comes with a live-in-the-studio DVD featuring the guys running through the DTB back catalogue, augmented visually with a lot of split-screen effects and what looks like the iTunes visualizer fading in and out of the picture. Low budget, for sure, but the execution is in medium-to-good taste. The studio set lasts about an hour. The sound is pristine, and the band rock out mightily, proving that Devin’s multi-layered orchestrations are very reproducible live. Drummer Ryan Van Poederooyen in particular puts on a clinic. It must have been nerve-wracking for the band to subject themselves to such an up-close, multi-camera shoot. There’s also a video for the song “Storm” off Accelerated Evolution, a Devin-guided tour around Armoury Studios (where the live set was shot), and a DTB-on-tour segment. Professional and impressive, this is well worth the extra 10 or so bucks if you’re a fan.

I delivered fancylady to a baby shower out in Maple Ridge this morning. We listened to Rock 101's "Guitar Gods Weekend" for an hour in the truck. Rock 101, being the big classic rock station in town, is usually a reliable option for a drive—some Creedence for her, a little Floyd for me, and they'll inevitably get the Led out to make us both happy. It being "Guitar Gods Weekend," we figured our trip out to the burbs would rock pretty hard.

It was a letdown. Instead of getting Hendrix, Trower, Page, etc. as promised by 101's promo spots, we hit a block of music that strung together Peter Gabriel, The Band, U2, and The Beach Boys. When The Tragically Hip came on as we approached our destination, fancylady said, "God, it's gonna be great when they have 'Drum Gods Weekend' and they play lots of Def Leppard."

Woods of Ypres — Against the Seasons (Krankenhaus Records)
The five-song EP Against the Seasons was Woods of Ypres’ first foray into their world of summer black metal, a theme established by the subtitle, “Cold Winter Songs from the Dead Summer Heat.” Recorded in 2002 and released the following year, it’s now undergone a remix from producer (and current WoY bassist) Dan Hulse, who did such a great job on Wetwork’s album last year, along with classy new artwork. The music on this 30-minute EP shows a raw-yet-focused approach that formed the basis for the refinements and diversification of their superb Pursuit of the Sun and Allure of the Earth album from last year. Extremity abounds, emphasizing the blast and the rasp, while still leaving room for acoustic passages, melodic vocals and tempo shifts, sombre arpeggios mingling with fierce blasting (executed with more enthusiasm than perfection, admittedly)—the elements the band fully realized in the more varied songs on the follow-up album. The black metal influence is more pronounced here, recalling Satyricon, Immortal and Primordial—particularly the latter band’s fondness for triplet-feel tempos. I like the symmetrical running order of the tracks, with two shorter songs framing three epics. "A Meeting Place and Time" stands out for its memorable clean-sung passages, as does "Awaiting the Inevitable," which features some terrific riffs in its doomy intro and mid-song death-metal breakdown, complete with a patented Tom G. Warrior death-grunt! Great stuff. Considering that two-thirds of the band on this EP didn’t appear on Pursuit…, the sound and approach between the two releases are remarkably consistent. This is probably down to drummer/songwriter David Gold’s vision…a uniquely Canadian vision, I should add, tied intimately to our geography and the correlation between climate and emotion. (If ever a metal band could be diagnosed with S.A.D., WoY would be it.) The recording-in-progress reports for WoY III indicate that its musical direction follows this EP more closely than Pursuit…, making Against the Seasons not a curio of juvenilia like many debut releases, but a key work in the band’s young discography.

Turbulence
I’ve probably done twice as much flying in the last few years as I did in the previous 20, now that I have friends and other connections east of the Rockies. Still, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the ways of the modern air traveller. These people have powers of interpretation that I’ll never be able to fathom, much less ever adapt.

For example, in the departure lounge, when they announce pre-boarding for families with children and passengers who may need assistance boarding the aircraft, I’ve never understood that that is my signal to grab my things and jostle for position at the counter. I usually assume that there’ll be another boarding announcement for regular passengers like myself.

Similarly, when the plane lands and the flight attendant asks everyone to remain seated while we taxi to the terminal, I don’t take that as a cue to stand up and start pulling my stuff from the overhead bins. The seasoned traveller knows better, though. Having been flown to his destination at 550 MPH, he's now determined to shave time off his journey. It’s up to him. Every second counts. Some other a-hole out there might hail all the taxis!

I’ll hold off sharing the meat and potatoes of my Montreal trip—the specifics on new Voivod album and my interviews with the band—for now. I'll post a link to the Unrestrained! Web site once my write up is done. What follows are some general observations of the events leading up to the main event.

I arrived on Tuesday evening, and took a cab to the hotel. Adrian from The End Records and U! had set up his PR command post in our room, with receipts, forms, and Blackberry spread out on the desk. Not only was he setting up two days of Voivod listening sessions in Montreal and New York, but The Gathering (another band on The End) are also due shortly in North America, and mini-crises abounded. He came out for something to eat with me, though he had to watch the time carefully. Jason Newsted (who joined Voivod shortly after leaving Metallica) was due at our hotel in a couple hours. I’d never seen the Energizer so nervous or quiet. Jasonic operates on a different plane of fame and fortune than the usual metallers he and I deal with. Adrian wanted damn sure to be there when he arrived.

After dinner I met up with the gang from Toronto, who were noshing at another restaurant a few blocks down Ste. Catherine. I’d talked or otherwise been in touch with both Martin Popoff and Chris Bruni in the past, so it was good to finally meet them in person. Richard from Caustic Truths, Laura from Exclaim and BW&BK’s David Perri were there as well. Their food had just arrived so I sat and had a beer while they noshed. After we’d settled the bill we checked out Archambault Music and the magazine store across from the hotel. I was pleased to finally be able to find an issue of Signal to Noise (Dirty Three on the cover), a magazine that I first read about on Brandon's blog at Ground and Sky a while back.

We split up after that, with Bruni, Richard and I heading to a pub for a few beers. I had a couple pints of Guinness then went back to the hotel where I found a very relieved and chilled-out Adrian. Newsted had arrived and all was good. He and Away (Voivod's drummer) were listening to the final mix of the new album up in his room. Away came down and I shook his hand—I may have even involuntarily bowed a few times—followed by Jasonic a few minutes later. I’d had enough brushes with greatness for an evening, so I went up to my room.

After the complimentary breakfast Wednesday morning (superb overall, though few things are more upsetting than buffet eggs) I went for a walk to scope out the neighbourhood. My West Coast candy-ass nearly froze to death after being out for 90 minutes. I retreated to the hotel, where Bruni and Adrian were about ready to pack up banners and t-shirts for the listening party that afternoon. The venue was the upstairs 200-capacity room at Metropolis, an awesome concert hall on Ste. Catherine. We got a tour of the main floor, which features a 2500-capacity hall, which I can only describe as a cross between Vancouver’s Commodore Ballroom and the Orpheum, if you can imagine such a thing. Just a beautiful place. Dream Theater are playing there later this month.

We hung up some Voivod banners, organized a reception table and sorted the commemorative t-shirts by size, and waited for the 30-odd invitees to arrive. Snake was the first band member to show up, followed by Away and Jasonic.

At 2:00 Jason introduced the album on behalf of the band, urging us all to stay quiet for the duration as a mark of respect for Piggy, their guitarist who passed away late last summer. Like I said earlier, I’ll save all the musical details for my upcoming piece for the U! Web site. I will say that the new Voivod album lacks nothing in terms of mystique, atmosphere and surprise.

Adrian organized the post-album interviews for everyone who wanted to talk to the band. I talked to Away first, mainly about how he saw the new album in terms of their past albums. The fanboy in me took over at various points, and we talked about Magma, his artwork, the Voivod character, and my favourite Voivod album, Angel Rat, which I’d conveniently brought a copy of for him to sign. Away’s one of the nicest guys you could ever meet, so amazingly modest and self-effacing. I’m looking forward to arranging a follow-up phone interview with him closer to the album release date (June).

(I actually wish Away had been a little more self-promoting, because on my last afternoon in Montreal I picked up a free local entertainment paper and learned, upon opening it up at the airport, that he had an art show on right then, featuring the original paintings of the first four Voivod album covers. I’m still bummed out about missing that.)

What I remember of my interview with Jason was his incandescent passion for Voivod. He’s the guy who’s going to see Snake and Away through these dark days and make sure nobody forgets about their band. And according to what Away told me, the next couple years will be busy ones. It sounds awful and wrong for me to say this, but it’s going to be a good time to be a Voivod fan. Hang in there, because the band certainly will.

After the event, the Toronto gang got back in the van and headed out. Only Richard was planning to stay on. He and I went out for dinner and compared notes. After a day of being repeatedly knocked on my ass, Richard floored me again by mentioning, of his own accord, the Laser Voivod concept, which is a long-running fantasy my friend Smash and I have nurtured. He had an interesting twist on the idea that I can’t mention here.

On the way back to the hotel, we wandered through the main HMV downtown, where I got a good chuckle out of one of their displays. It was something you’d only see in Quebec—Gentle Giant topping the music DVD chart with their Giant on the Box release.

I just got back from Montreal, where I got to hear Katorz, the new Voivod album, and interview Jasonic and Away for an upcoming issue of Unrestrained! More details about the trip later.

It was pissing rain in Montreal today, and out my window tonight I can see Vancouver-style snow (i.e., chunky precipitation) in the street-lights' glare. It's a "Meteorological Inversion," which is not a Voivod song title, but should be.

Someone once said of Louis Armstrong, "He was put on this Earth to make people happy." I feel the same way about the Kids of Widney High, whom a coworker introduced me to this week. I knew of them after reading an article in Answer Me! more than 10 years ago, but I'd never heard their work. I'll admit that it wasn't something I felt like seeking out. The sole purpose of "outing" this music seemed to be so that stoners could laugh at it.

Spinning Special Music From Special Kids (1989), Let's Get Busy (1999), and Act Your Age (2003) all day left me in a daze. The first album's hit me so hard that I needed prodding from my coworker to listen to it again and truly discover the raw, unflinching, devastating tunes it contains. I was interested (and my psyche was a little grateful) to hear that the follow-up albums are much more polished (almost as if Widney High had been auditioning students before deeming them eligible to enroll), and feature some undeniably kick-ass material: "Pretty Girls," "Christmas is the Time," and the unbelievably great "Life Without the Cow" [MP3]. It's as good as anything They Might Be Giants has ever done.

Of course, I got home last night and mentioned the Kids to fancylady, who launched into renditions of all the hits from Special Music.... Guess I'm late to the party on this one.

To see ourselves as others see us...

Nick Terry reviewing The Devin Townsend Band's Synchestra in the new issue of Decibel:
"Apologies to any of our readers in Vancouver, but whatever they put in the water up there, you guys are fucked."

After watching our city's contribution to the Turin Olympics closing ceremonies, I couldn't agree more. That was supremely embarrassing.

BTW, Terry gave the record an 8/10, calling it "the perfect '80s Rush album."

Retrogressive Progressive Obsessive

Inspired by a thread at Doomed To Rock, I decided to pick some of my favourite progressive rock albums from the ’90s to the present. A lot of my choices reflect a time when I was discovering a lot of new bands and labels—the same time, funnily enough, that I first got on the Web. It was 1997. The "progressive revival" of the early '80s hadn't left me with anything but a few treasured Marillion and IQ albums. I'd become pissed off with indie rock's apathetic lack of craft and was enthusiastically catching up with the metal scene. Then, prompted by a few magazine articles and the much-maligned Billboard Guide to Progressive Music, I found a whole new vein of underground music... I got out my credit card and began clicking "Confirm Your Order." I got up to date in no time, and was overjoyed to hear that progressive rock was thriving, free from major label tyranny and the notion of having a "hit" that killed the '70s and '80s bands. The new bands were making music for all the right reasons.

For this list, I decided to stay within the boundaries of what I consider the classic prog sound, so a lot of these albums are unabashedly retro (I don’t want to get into the retrogressive progressive rock debate—I'll just say that the issue doesn’t keep me awake at night). Other albums on the list might push the boundaries a little more. As a general rule, I steered clear of heavy metal, which is often the most complex, progressive music in existence. Progressive metal albums like Gorguts’ Obscura and River of Corticone by Sacramentary Abolishment might have to wait for another list to get their fair dues.

In chronological order, then…

1. Landberk – Lonely Land (Laser’s Edge, 1992)
Right before Anglagard’s epoch-making debut album, Landberk arrived, a very different but no less remarkable band who released three studio albums then tragically vanished. Lonely Land is the English-language version of their debut album (some say they prefer the original Swedish version, which I’ve never heard). There’s nothing off-puttingly indulgent about their music, in fact it rocks in a gently headbangable way. Landberk prefer to groove rather than slam you around the room with dozens of rapid-fire changes. They’re accessible in the same way a band like Katatonia is. Their overwhelming melancholy is their own worst enemy—or most valuable asset, depending on your POV. Landberk’s sound revolves around Stefan Dimle’s barbed-wire bass, a swathe of Mellotron, and the stürm and twang of Reine Fiske’s guitar, whose seething tone I find so compelling I’ve sought out a number of his recordings, from the amazing Morte Macabre album, to the debut EP from Paatos, to his current contributions to the ultra-hip psyche band Dungen.


2. IQ – Ever (Giant Electric Pea, 1993)
After an abortive two-album major label foray, IQ added new bassist John Jowitt and old singer Peter Nicholls, and returned stronger than ever with…Ever. While their contemporaries Marillion fought to distance themselves from the progressive rock genre, IQ embraced it, favouring their audience with a string of quality releases up to the present day. As a result, they’ve found themselves the flagbearers of “neo-prog” a virtually meaningless, often pejorative, label that’s become common use in the years after Ever. I have a real soft spot for these guys, and Ever remains (ever-so-slightly) the best of their post-80s output—stately, confident, and dramatic.


3. Anglagard – Epilog (Private label, 1994)
These Swedes sent shock waves through the community (such as it was in 1992) when their debut Hybris was released. Much as Metallica took earlier metal influences and ramped them up to new levels of mania, Anglagard took the “good bits” of '70s progressive rock and built a better beast. The turn-on-a-dime epic instrumentals on Epilog are marvels of tight, intricate playing, dynamics, and melodic exploration. And the band's rich, organic sound—heavy on the flute, Mellotron and Hammond—must have been a revelation to ears longing for relief from the blocky, overblown production that ruled the '80s. They released only two studio albums, but their influence lives on in bands like Norway’s Wobbler. The crack cocaine of progressive rock, Epilog still delivers a satisfying jolt.


4. White Willow – Ignis Fatuus (Laser’s Edge, 1995)
This Norwegian collective’s debut album has a very pastoral feel, heavy on the acoustic guitars, flute, soothing Moog tones, and female vocals. Amazingly White Willow have kept it together enough to release three more albums, each with an increasingly extreme light/heavy dynamic. Ignis Fatuus has its aggressive moments, as heard on the fiery keyboard solo in “Lord of Night” and the powerful doom-crunch of “Cryptomenysis.” Elaborate madrigals like “The Withering of the Boughs” and “Now In These Fairy Lands” (quiet in the back, please) dominate the album, though, making for a pleasant (though never bland), listen located somewhere between Harmonium and Jethro Tull, suffused with melancholy that colours a lot of Scandinavian music. Don’t be deceived by the fiercely subtle nature of this album. Leader Jacob Holm-Lupo is down with the black metal, so he’s in touch with the dark side.


5. Spock’s Beard – Beware of Darkness (Radiant, 1996)
The Beard are loved and loathed equally, with “fanboy” and “progsnob” the discussion board epithets of choice whenever their music is debated. Whatever—they did a lot to rejuvenate interest in the genre in the '90s. Neal Morse is an ace songwriter, able to stir The Beatles, Yes, and Gentle Giant into an infectiously catchy prog soup. Sure, they’re sometimes sappy, and they’re not taking the music anywhere new, but when I want to hear something to pick up my mood, I put on the Beard. BoD gets the nod over debut album The Light (1992) and V (2000) for the presence of "The Doorway" and “Time Has Come,” my all-time favourite Beard epic.


6. Happy Family – Toscco (1997, Cuneiform)
Zeuhl-inspired instrumental madness from this Japanese quartet, who beat the tar out of their instruments for the length of this album. With songs like "The Sushi Bar (with bad face, bad manners, and bad taste)" and "He is Coming at Tokyo Station," the music really captures the feeling of a frenetic urban existence. I find it a lot more palatable than Ruins (the widely accepted benchmark for Japanese avant-rock craziness) because there’s more space in the music, more grooving, and more drama. This album flat-out rocks.


7. Present – Certitudes (Cuneiform, 1998)
Dark and twisted nightmare music from Belgians with ties to legendary chamber rock outfit Univers Zero. Present are far more guitar-centric than Univers Zero, with a sound approaching Voivod performing Philip Glass compositions.


8. Anathema – Alternative 4 (Peaceville, 1998)
Anathema went from being an okay doom metal band to an excellent hard-driving progressive rock band with this breakthrough album. The emotional overload and sense of continuity of these songs reminds me a lot of Marillion’s Clutching at Straws, and Vincent Cavanaugh’s vocal delivery recalls Roger Waters. My friend Smash and I logged a good many hours with this album when it came out, and it's never grown old.


9. Porcupine Tree – Stupid Dream (1999, Snapper)
Band leader Steve Wilson would probably have an aneurysm if he saw his band sharing space with certain others on this list, but what roundup of progressive rock from the last decade and a half could omit Porcupine Tree? Stupid Dream is just one of a string of excellent releases from these guys, probably the one that set the standard until their latest masterpiece, Deadwing. From orchestral pop songs to epic Floydian excursions, P. Tree has it covered. Wilson’s musical and lyrical depth is constantly amazing, and from a production standpoint, he makes some of the best-sounding records you’ll ever hear these days.


10. Kevin Gilbert – The Shaming of the True (2000, KMG)
Kevin Gilbert was an LA-based songwriter/musician and a member of the Tuesday Night Music Club, the songwriting workshop that unleashed Sheryl Crow upon the world. I would guess that the circumstances behind Crow’s rise to fame generated a lot of the bitterness that fuelled The Shaming of the True, Gilbert’s concept album about the dark side of the music business. (Gilbert passed away before the album was finished. Nick D’Virgilio of Spock’s Beard and others assembled the album from demos, live recordings and other sources—not that you can tell.) The story follows a promising young artist, Johnny Virgil, as he’s chewed up and spat out by the industry. The genius of this album lies in its songs. They're actually very commercial and radio friendly, ironically reflecting the hit-factory mentality that the album rails against. They’re a diverse lot, at times recalling Peter Gabriel's rhythm-based style (Gilbert once staged a full-length live version of The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway). And check out the incredible vocal tapestry of "Suit Fugue (Dance of the A&R Men") and the scathing "Fun," which includes a memorable verse about a certain “Sheryl”. It’s an inspiring album—a labour of love and an incandescent purging of spite.


Shortlisted:
Morte Macabre, Symphonic Holocaust; Guapo, Black Oni; Anekdoten, From Within; Tiamat, Wildhoney; Djam Karet, Live at Orion

I finished work on the new issue of Unrestrained! last week. I still feel like I'm coming up for air, as the last few days of every issue get pretty intense. I talked to Norway's Green Carnation, Toronto's Martin Popoff, and Maple Ridge's Devin Townsend for this edition, so I'll try to post some interview leftovers in the coming weeks.

I'll start with Devin Townsend, who's just released one of his finest albums ever, Synchestra, with the Devin Townsend Band. It's a homespun yet epic record, full of surprises and nonchalant genius. He's a great guy to talk to, and I regret that I couldn't include the full scope of our conversation in my U! piece, which ended up being a sort of guided tour through the songs on the new album.

I asked Devin about the guests he had on Synchestra—guests like Steve Vai, who gave Townsend one of his first big breaks as vocalist on Vai's Sex and Religion album in 1993.

You’ve got Steve Vai playing a solo on the song "Triumph." You've mentioned before that it was sort of a renewal of your creative relationship.

"Yeah, and also closing the door on a 12-year cycle. It was 12 years ago that I did that Vai thing, which kind of launched me in some peculiar directions personally and professionally. I think I spent quite a few of those years in a combination of ruing it and blaming him. I think it took me 12 years to get past that and realize the opportunity that it actually was and realizing the friend that I’ve actually got in that guy. While a lot of people had the opportunity to go to music university to learn their craft, I had the opportunity to go to 'Steve School' and learn lots about the practical application of the music, like the touring and the management end of it and the production and obviously guitar and vocals...as far into it as videos and band dynamic and all this kind of shit. Being able to apply that to my own works has shaped me in a way that it’s hard to picture myself without [all that] at this point. So having Steve perform on a song lke 'Triumph' I think lets bygones be bygones. I mean, personally Steve and I have been fine since the second year after that, but professionally I’ve just been going down so many weird paths for so long that to get out of that cycle by having him appear on the record is really therapeutic."

Did you have any specific instructions for him on the song or did you just say "Go ahead and do your thing"?

"Yeah, the only specific instruction I had was 'Here’s the file—rock it.'"

There’s a female vocalist on the album too. Who is that?

"Well, Nick Tyzio is our sound man. He’s been our sound guy for Strapping Young Lad for a while now, and he’s a really good sound man and a really good guy. Because Synchestra has a pretty family-oriented theme to it I tried to find people who were within our circle, and Deborah is Nick’s wife. She’s got a really good voice and she’s got a lot of things that she’ll be doing in the future. She’s really talented, so it was good to be able to utilize her voice for this."

Oh boy, a trip to the post office to pick up stuff from The End Records.
Circulus—The Lick on the Tip of an Envelope That's Yet to be Sent
What the what is going on here? Surely it bears further investigation. Blackmore's Night, I challenge thee to a joust.
Canvas Solaris—Penumbra Diffuse
Instrumental tech-metal's where it's at for me these days. It's so seldom that I hear a metal vocalist who really contributes anything to the music, so do away with them, I say. Shrink-wrap sticker: "Fans of Spiral Architect, King Crimson, and Don Caballero will be challenged from the opening notes." I'm up for a bit of that.
Jesu—Jesu
Justin Broadrick's new thing.
The Gathering—A Sound Relief DVD
Shrink-wrap sticker: "...a must for any fan of Portishead [cool], Mogwai [righteous], Evanescence [D-OHH!], etc."

I’m still jamming on Sundays at the Sox house, where I’ve been bashing away for at least 15 years now. The jam room is the same as ever, a wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling tangle of patch cables, pedal boards, mike stands and cobwebs presided over by brittle posters of Geddy, Ozzy and Lemmy. Only the refreshments have changed. The days of homebrew and homegrown are over. Instead we’re downing Chai and bottled water and fresh fruit and cheese strings, all supplied by mother Sox, whom I’m sure is delighted by the straight-edge Sunday philosophy. We’re like friggin’ Aerosmith these days. Last time I was over, we had the Monk/Coltrane live album playing on the stereo as we passed the teapot around, and I heard Scum mutter, “God, what a bunch of nellies.”

We still play bloody loud, though, and, in the grand Sox tradition, we record everything. Getting a good room mix onto tape (or hard drive) wasn’t so difficult when we were a trio-plus-vocalist, but now that twin guitars have become such a big part of our “sound,” the huge swirl of frequencies has really muddied the recordings. I think turning down would help, but the guys love their Marshall stacks too much to do that. We’ve been using noise gates on the drum mikes to stop the guitars bleeding through. They definitely help, but I really dislike the resulting sound. Not only is every drum hit clipped a tiny bit, but the elements of the kit that don’t pack a huge wallop—like the high hat and ride cymbal—end up not triggering the gates and are inaudible on the recordings. Forget about playing grace notes or cross-sticking on the snare…it simply won’t register. Kick, snare, toms—boom-boom-tap—are about all that makes it through the gates.

So I worry, I complain, I bear with it. It’s not my room, it’s not my equipment, and I’m just the guy who gets to hang around with musicians…you know the joke. But as of last week, I feel better about the situation. Each issue of Decibel magazine features a lengthy piece about a “Hall of Fame” album, an extensive revisitation of some classic record that rounds up fresh interviews with band members talking about the good old days and how they really had no idea they were making a classic at the time, etc.

The Decibel folks have displayed good taste in their picks thus far, and I’m all over each issue like white on rice. In the latest issue, they consecrate Cathedral’s Forest of Equilibrium, a fantastically miserable album made by, it turns out, fantastically miserable young men. And what did Mike Smail, an American drummer who went to England to play on Cathedral’s legendary debut album, think of the end result?

“Well, I was kinda disappointed that there were absolutely no cymbals on that recording…”

Interior Design – Interior Design 03 (Canada Lynx Records)
Interior Design is Shockk’s solo project. He plays guitar in Mongoose and the on-again, off-again Roadbed, and is one of the most ridiculously talented musicians I’ve ever seen, much less hung out with. If he weren’t such a nice, modest guy, he’d probably be famous. With Interior Design, he applies his dexterous fingers to ambient music. I think this is his first CD, after releasing a handful of tapes over the years. It comes packaged in a DVD case with a hyper-elegant sleeve designed by SN Ratio (Simian of Supersimian—see below—who’s becoming Vancouver’s answer to Vaughn Oliver or Storm Thorgerson). Shockk deploys his mastery of beatboxes, effects and jazz licks on music that is a companion unobtrusive. At times this album sounds like Pat Metheny jamming with Boards of Canada. With the exception of “abrasion test,” featuring a touch of trumpet from Roger Dean Young, the music you hear is just the Shockker, his guitar, and machines. The rhythm tracks alone make for a fascinating listen (Shockk’s pretty handy behind a drum set and carries this over when programming beats), never mind his stunning guitar playing overtop—too well-placed and appropriate of tone to qualify as mere noodling. The songs are of a piece while maintaining their separate identities, and several of the longer tracks take some interesting directions. Track 10, “opaque,” nods to Roadbed in the form of samples of between-song banter from Roadbed gigs (if you listen carefully, this blog gets a mention). The distortion drone of “geometric” works as a soothing musical sorbet for a mid-album ear cleansing before the next piece gets going. While some might scoff at the idea that this kind of Ikea-core might be anything but sonic wallpaper, Shockk’s ear for detail makes the music work as both an active and passive listening experience. Bung it on whilst entertaining, or hunker down under the headphones, close your eyes, and start editing together your own private Koyaanisqatsi. A highly recommended accessory for good living.

These are the people in my neighbourhood, Pt. 2.
How the Tiger Got Lionized is the first album from the team of Super Robertson (scene kingpin and Supper Show impresario) and Simian Special (whom I know as Roadbed’s last drummer, but is a man of many musical projects), who’ve merged their talents to form SUPERSIMIAN! A couple of good Canadian guys making good Canadian music with a lineage from Neil Young to the Rheostatics and beyond. And, because my Canada is in the Commonwealth, I’d throw XTC into the cluster of references too. How the Tiger… is an aimable, spontaneous (spontamiable?) record, loaded with detailed arrangements and variation ’tween songs. There are a lot of vocals on this album—neither of these chaps is afraid of a microphone—which lends it a density that took me a few listens to penetrate and appreciate what was going on. Fortunately their vocal talents are more than a match for their extroversion. Sim’s a huge talent, with a voice that ranges from a direct, folksy tone to a falsetto that soars into the big sky. Super’s the king of rhythm and feel, able to wrest music from the most mundane phrase…not that the lyrics of SUPERSIMIAN are in any way banal. They’re rather brilliant, actually—filled with character sketches, natural phenomena, and local references. There’s even a tune about hockey for the ultimate toque ’n’ block-heater appeal. Favourite songs would be the Crazy Horse charge of “Bill Von Bacon Tell,” the barely contained abandon of “70s Rock at the Railway” (I’d like to hear this bashed out live sometime), and the amazing “Provincial,” a song I remember from the last few Roadbed gigs I saw, captured on this album in a live recording that trades a few duff notes for an incredible atmosphere. Magic. In fact, the band lineup on this song includes guitarist Shockk (whose latest release I will write about soon), making it a Roadbed reunion of sorts. The inclusion of a version of “Sun Rises,” last heard on Roadbed’s Last Dance at the Shock Centre, re-emphasizes the connection to Super and Sim’s previous band. Graced by Sim’s fantastic graphic design, How the Tiger Got Lionized captures some harmonious heroism from a pair of unstoppable characters.

I celebrated my 40th birthday last weekend with Fancy and friends, a lot of cake and a lot of beer. I've been reeling from the fun and the assault of complex sugars on my system ever since. I can't say I'm worrying too much about the age milestone. That stuff is for people who have regrets and amends to make. I mainly worry about how long my stretch as the luckiest person alive is going to last.

Super Robertson recently called me a fucking son of a bitch (I was being a smartass in his blog comments), and that's okay, although I'd like to amend his slur to fucking lucky son of a bitch.

I got lots of birthday presents; everyone's way too nice to me. I got some Tetley's beer glasses, gift certificates to Happy Bats Cinema and A&B Sound (I sense a haul coming on), the Mist King Urth LP by Lifeguards (Pollard and Gillard from GBV), the Criterion Withnail and I DVD (Fancy rolls her eyes), and season 2 of Reno 911.

And from Fancy, the little belter that she is... How do I describe this? She took my stash of concert ticket stubs (99 of them) and had them arranged and mounted inside a shadow box. It's beautiful. From Scorpions/Iron Maiden/Girlschool in July 1982 to Judas Priest last October, there's my goddamn life. Not a lot of personal and aesthetic growth there, but I've enjoyed it.

I have a lot of talented friends with new music out right now. First up...

Ross Vegas features my pals Smash on bass and Alec Macaulay guesting on lead guitar. The band itself is led by Tim “Hey Rock” Bourchier on guitar/vocals, whom I’ve known slightly ever since his old band, Rubicon, gigged with Roadbed and Stoke a few years ago. To be absolutely honest, Ross Vegas don’t play a style of music I actively seek out. Their album Flow is full of unabashedly commercial mid-tempo rock mainly based around guitar grooves and easy-to-grasp chord changes that’s designed to get people out on the dance floor. It's not my scene, but I can appreciate the talent and craft that went into the album. Tim has a versatile, soulful voice that’s neither boy-band vulnerable nor ridden with empty post-grunge angst. Every element fits perfectly, from the pristine recording and production by Jonathan Fluevog, to the assorted talents that Tim’s assembled here. Besides Alec’s tasteful string bending and Smash’s spot-on bass work, Rick Maksymiw (keyboards) and Sam Cartwright (drums) deliver like studio pros with performances that more than demonstrate their respective expertise. You know when you hear someone playing with impeccable taste and restraint in service of The Song, yet you know they could unleash a holocaust of shred if given the opportunity? That's the feeling I get listening to this band. Though, as I said, Ross Vegas aren’t my thing, the music on Flow is comfortable with itself, and that's a pleasure to hear.

Next up: How the Tiger Got Lionized by SUPERSIMIAN.