Body Count

Today's question is as follows:







heh. ;)








How many 5 year olds at once do you think you could best in hand to hand combat to the death?




On a mildly related note, the 7 year old boy at my house was playing Sims2 which I recently bought. It was amusing considering he really didn't understand how to keep them alive and happy. He built them a house but once he placed them in it to live, they quickly deteriorated into depression from neglect and soiled themselves because he didn't tell them to use the toilet. They all eventually died. When a Sim dies, their ghost haunts the house forever. The boy's solution to these hauntings was to place an army of newborn babies in the house (seriously, like dozens). God, I love his imagination. It is quite an imaginative idea but not a solution at all. All that will do is make an army of ghost babies in the house. Damn, that is sick. I love it.

Imagine the View

Set deep inside what has to be the smallest club in Toronto on the last day of August, I had the rare pleasure of seeing A Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra and Tra-La-La Band play before me. I knew what to expect as I have come to love a majority of their music thus far. It is best described as dark and bleak. The messages contained within their songs are highly political and often anti-war. Liberal criticisms are bound tightly to a kind of pessimistic hope. The kind one has when so much hope has eroded away.


ASMZ

To describe in a more auditory way I'd call it progressive music enveloping characteristics from folk, orchestral and noise. Often this is very well layered with a rock-style drum kit, electric guitar and the haunting howl of front man, Efrim Menuck. For those of you not familiar with Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Menuck was also responsible for a large part of their concept & delivery (minus the singing) of a more experimental kind of prog several years ago.


Menuck

ASMZ opened their set with "God Bless Our Dead Marines" - one of the four songs I was crossing my fingers for that night. In fact, I heard three out of the four that I came to see. ALL three filled me with such beauty, sadness and awe that I could not contain the wealth of emotion I felt. The rest of the performance was stunning for sure, but they were mostly songs that I was not yet familiar with. I've never wept like that at a performance. I hid my face, not out of shame, but because I didn't want MightyDoll to think that I was not having the time of my life. I was.



"And our heros all died crazy
Broken poor our shot
Let's celebrate their tragedy
And sanctify the loss...
...And all I true love
is the light in my sister's darling eyes"

-Horses In The Sky



I could write for days straight explaining how this music permeates my soul. Instead, I'd rather you see and hear for yourself. May these lyrics be a tempting taste.



Imagine the view
From a helicopter gun ship
A man comes into view
And you hit that switch
and you cut that man in two

Imagine the view
When they bounce that shit off of satellites
And when they hit that switch, and when they hit that switch
All of heaven falls on you

-Ring Them Bells (Freedom Has Come And Gone)



A very sincere thank you to all members of A Silver Mt. Zion Memorial Orchestra and Tra-La-La Band for aiding in the opening of my mind to the world outside this continent.

Love,
HH

Oh yeah! I forgot about 'Staggering' part 2

We had it all figured out. Planned to perfection you see. See? I pasted our itinerary :)

Itinerary:

Wednesday

10am: Canadian Tire trip for last minute camping gear

10:30am: Yank out hair and scream at incompetence of employees

11am: Carry big honking cooler full of more gear onto mass transit system

noon: Pack car

1pm: Depart for five hour trip

2pm: Stop to scour child vomit from everything including her

2:50pm: Dodge to back of nearest building to smoke a bowl in the desperate hopes that it will put you to sleep until your timely arrival. (no, I was not driving)

3pm: Feed sick child Gravol and resume travel

7pm: Arrive in the right county & get lost as fuck

8pm: Arrive at Kaleidoscope in time to raise moon base in a heavy down pour. Tent? No. Moon base.
See?

First, notice this nice family milling about their dry and sunny campsite. Fucking bitch-ass punk-ass happy people.
Moon Base: 17 x 16.5' x 74" h (5 x 5 x 2 m)
Sleeps 10 people and one large dog
Pet den can be used as a storage area for coolers, bags etc.
Coleman WeatherTec system (fat lotta fuckin' good that did us)
Easy set-up design with colour coded poles (provided its not pitch black in the best shower pressure you've ever had)
Room divider (to keep the 200 gallons of water on that side)
Fire-engine red and light beige
5-year manufacturer's warranty

9pm: Swim out of finished moon base, across site to appease exhausted, crying children (I felt bad for them. We all had many reasons to cry at that point).

10pm: Get kids lulled to sleep in a preset tent not being used by a fellow camper & reach for the relaxation sticks in pocket

10:04: Meet with security at the front of your tent regarding the increasing ferocity of the weather (heavier rains with high winds). Discuss pros & cons of moving children to the trailer in the site next door

10:30: Meet with security at the front of your tent regarding the increasing ferocity of the weather (heavier rains with high winds, lightning and golfball-size hail). Follow orders to move kids to trailer

10:40: Meet with security again regarding the further increasing ferocity of the weather (add tornado warnings to previous grocery list). Follow orders to carry kids to basement in a large house 200 yards away through all that shit in the pitch dark in your underwear and water up to your shins

10:50pm: Arrive in basement thinking you'll get to sleep to find a throng of children bouncing off the walls, scarfing popcorn & watching movie after movie. This, of course, means the youngin's in tow aren't getting back to sleep anytime soon.


Thursday

12am: Wander upstairs after mostly drip drying, to the living room where you'll watch the weather channel for three hours as if they'll tell you something different other than "your fucked" if your willing to wait just ten more minutes. Occasionally you'll check on the kids in between, finding them glued to all things Frankie Muniz.

3am: Finally, for fuck's sake, find your way to la-la-land.

8am: Wake, drink coffee gifted unto you & scoop kids, return to camp bearing soaked clothes, soaked kids and all of your bedding - also soaked :) Assess water, wind and hail damage. Miraculously find dry clothes in your bag and build camp with a new love for life and nature


God, I love this shit.


11:00am: There is no 11am silly! Time stopped as soon as you became welcomed in the natural surroundings in which you plunked yourself. Fun huh?!













yes.











So after all that, there was no more itinerary.
"What do you want to do today, Love?"
"Dunno. Somethin' later."
"Cooool."


And some things happened. Good things for the most part.

It was a 5 day weekend of freedom in comparison to the 3 contribution of my time to the Waste Management Crew of Hillside '06
(which didn't suck, mind you)

Yet free time is free time and a precious thing at that in my version of the world. There was no order to it for me other than sleep when your tired and eat when you're hungry. If it sounds fun, do it. *breathes long* yes. This is what I waited for.
The day after the monsoon the Sun was so bright and warm that it made the past 14 hours of my life melt into a dream at best. I helped prepare & eat lunch after finding a huge metal sheet of refuse in the forest which made a perfect sun-dryer for our beds n' such.

Damn. That was the wildest weather I've camped in. That was so exhausting to even recall that I feel the need to stop here and promise a part 3 to this epic vacation... If there is such a thing. Plus if I made this post any longer, ya'll might not finish reading it :)



love,
HH

I'm behind in my homework. Multi-review: Metric, Eagles of Death Metal and Peaches

I went to Fort York in Toronto last Saturday to see Metric. It was an all day fest. That is, it was hotter than you can imagine & we knew Metric wouldn't be on stage until dark so we waited for it to cool off some.

The band takes the stage & I'm surprised to be so enthralled with the singer, Emily Hanes. Hrm. She's cute :)

Bathing your act in dark blue & purple light is always a easy way to get my googlly eyes going gonzo. Goodness.


photo courtesy of someone else

An outdoor concert experience was nice for a change. During the show, after dark, the cool part was turning to see the severed rays from templates over spotlights beam several hundred meters across the elevated freeway and onto the lakefront condos. Shining on cars, in windows.


photo courtesy of someone else

At several points in the evening I felt compelled to find a musket and take a defensive position behind the walls of stone surrounding the fort's perimeter. Must be the American in me. Fort York is from the war of 1812. I found it weird to imagine a war setting here nearly 200 years ago. They fought hard so we could have a place to drink our faces off in the sun & spend $30 on a $10 t-shirt.

I heard V, this guy I know, was doing stage work that day in exchange for free show access. As hot as it was I'd have been rather upset that my bits would be sopping wet all fucking day. More worth the ticket to sit & guzzle three beers before the band plays & I go home relaxed. All in all, a very good show...





yes there is a but. Sorry Miss Emily. In the future, do not come on stage for your encore to tell us all to, "Fuck that marketing bullshit. We're here for each other & the music & so are you."

*brelp*

C'mon dude, if it weren't like that, you wouldn't have so much merchandise to sell. My friend wouldn't have felt compelled to drop $60 in addition to the ticket just to have some swag to remember the experience. It was a bummer because it was as though the condemnation of marketing was a sales pitch. You're musicians and you have to make a living. That's fine. Sell your stuff. Just don't sell it by 'damning the man'.



.



Eagles of Death Metal


It was weird though. It was another one of those shows where I go to buy the ticket & find out that the band I want to see is not headlining. Whatevs. All it means is I may get home early enough to sleep plenty before work. I can deal.

So.

The Eagles of Death Metal, in case you were wondering or didn't click the link, are a fantastically ridiculous derivative from the Kyuss - Queens of the Stone Age tree. Everything fun and candy-assed cliche about rock & roll comes together with their Camero driving, cigarette smoking, mustache sporting version of humor and music.

I honestly feel that is as much as I can elaborate on them. I got what I wanted which was a silly fantastic time drinking to loud rock. I love the first album & I heard my favorites from it. Thanks guys that was great fun!

Here. Have some more photos I didn't shoot.






.



Peaches.

Peaches was the headliner for the evening. I'd never heard of her before. Asking around at work got me nothing more than mixed brands of disinterest. "Lame." "Funny." "Sexually charged." None of the opinions seemed excited about her stop in TO.




Odd. The folks at the show just freakin roared to life when she appeared. Joe & I didn't get it. Yes, sex is cool. But after three songs sounding all so similar, we got fed up with the predictability & boredom & called it a night.



.



Metric: Good Show. A respectable three stars
EofDM: Likewise. Three & a half
Peaches: Sorry. I give it a two star generously because the crowd (excepting me) was enchanted with your pelvic thrusts & pulsating rhythm.

Welcome to the next century!

Me that is. That's it folks we've finally achieved bandwidth! Woot. Seriously, it does make things faster to a worth while end. *sigh*

The downside is that my super-drive has decided to enter the semi-active realm of intermittent response. As in:
"Ahh, we're home. Looks like I don't have to recognize any discs anymore! What? We're going to the service department? Oh well then let me be on my best behavior so's to make a liar out of you. Know why? I heard your car used to love pulling this stunt. I hear she laughed her ass off for years. Don't you think it's my turn now?"

The irony is that the more complicated our devices that make for easy living become, the more they complicate our lives due to a dependency on a box built by the lowest bidder. Remember that commercial where the guy beats the ever loving shit out of his computer? Honestly now, can any of you tell me you were never that person? My plan in college was to toss the CPU tower out the 4th floor window of the school & film it from breaking out of the window to crashing to the street. This, of course, would be passed off as art at the next student show. Imagine the gathered folks saying, "Gosh! Such an impulsive statement on our technological future!" "Yes, a complete rejection of the accepted! How rare!" This will resort in an explosion of artsy fame for my life. Being slapped in the face with marketing offers, sponsorships, people becoming my people & they're people becoming my people's people. Generating revenue by way of concept. Fame goes to the head, all of a sudden I'll be filling my house with technological devices designed to make my life easier. Full circle. Hypocritical.

I can stare at my art supplies & ponder the loveliness of being a luddite. Rejecting.

Wait. Am I the not one who wanted to be a computer based artist to begin with?

my drive is still fubared. I have web work to do...

*hangs head, calls applecare*

Do What Must Be Done

I walked outside to the corner and took the mass transit. Destination unclear, either out of town or out of country. It felt like I crossed a border but I have no idea how I got there or where I was. I seemed to be in a building run by one woman. A kind of church or sanctuary. Cement mostly, but without the clear beauty and goodness of the simple churches I've seen. The woman who operated the place was large and seemingly sweet like a mother. I know how she had managed to convince so many to join her church. They were loving people who wanted nothing more than reassurance and a place for their faith in the Lord to grow. A place where they weren't so lonely and confused.

I was casually looking for someone that I had spoken to earlier. I couldn't find them. Peeking in and out of corridors, rooms... As I searched, I entered a room and saw there was orange light coming from the 2-inch crack near the bottom of the cement wall. I knew that the other side contained the furnace that heated the whole building. When I peered under I saw who I was looking for. He was laying under the furnace, burning. Being slowly cooked down to a mess. I could still see the white of his teeth among all the grey & black flesh through orange flames. I could see how his eye sockets were blacker than anything I had ever seen. My body filled with fear and panic. I convulsed and vomited at the sight and began to stagger away in horror. I knew I had to leave and in that same moment, knew I was here like the rest of the followers. Trapped. Dead. Tricked into the hands of madness by the promises of religion.

I could no longer leave. I had to escape instead. I scooped together as much of my belongings into my pockets as I could and made for the door. She was there in her kitchen. Awkward posture. Varicose veins. That fat face grinning at me. She knew that I knew the door was locked. It didn't look too hefty. I considered kicking it down to make a break for it. But they called to me. Those she swallowed in fire and those she had not yet subdued. I could not live with myself if I abandoning them to her will. While the large woman's back was turned, I picked up an end table. It was stout and had large wooden ball feet. I raised it high and quietly. I brought it down on her head and she collapsed into unconsciousness. She was out but I knew it was not for long. I had no money to travel away from this place so I rifled through her change purse & wallet. I scrambled as fast as I could but she woke before I could plan a way to stop these things I saw. Her eyes burned themselves into my memory forever and as she looked at me, I heard a voice. A message telling me what I must do. Like looking at the face of a tortured & diseased dog. "Kill me."

I did.

I screamed at her, "How could you do this!? All these people!? They trusted you!" I kicked her legs crashing her weight down again. I ran to the closet to find a very large monkey wrench. It was an arm's length. I held it with two hands, one on each end. I smashed her face in. I smashed it again. When you bludgeon someone to death, it takes so many blows. It seems to take so long. I smashed her bloody mangled face for the 7th time. She bubbled & spit blood as she tried to mutter something I couldn't understand. I smashed her face with the cold steel for the last time as I was sure she was dead. I was not thankful that the terror she inflicted on dozens was now over. I did not feel the part of the hero. All I could do was sob and shake with shame and guilt under the eyes of my creator above. Angry and broken because I was forced to do something I could not bear. I never meant to take life. I now wish I was dead.

An Evening With Mono

Okay, the tickets said Pelican but I didn't hear of Pelican before and I was really there to see Mono anyway. What's Mono you say? Mono is an entirely instrumental band that experiments with noise as art and ambience as the core of their work. Considered 'Post-Rock', they use their talent by layering gentle yet often high speed strumming and beautifully simple guitar melodies over a usually slow & low groove bass & drum beat. While many of their lengthy songs are slow in pace, they still bring a very high impact to the listener. After a carefully crafted, six-minute lulling intro, Mono will crash down with an assault of full and true rock sound complete with perfectly timed drumming, feedback and high distortion strings barely similar to the sad, heavy ballads of '90s alternative. Simple, yet not trite or bland...



Progressive noise acts are not for all. It is a small market that the likes of Mono are catering to. That said, I believe we'll see this style rise to a more popular platform in today's culture. I came to this because while I was at Lee's Palace, it was clear that a majority of the crowd was naturally there to see the headliner, Pelican. I've seen this before. A crowd of excited people await to see the band they paid for and they end up being blown away by the preceding act. With the end of each song Mono played, the audience bursted with enthusiasm and applause. Perhaps the crowd didn't save enough of their cheering energy for Pelican. Perhaps the crowd had drank too much by that point. Perhaps it was clear once Pelican took the stage, Mono seemed to be Pelican's favorite band. Whatever it was, Pelican's performance while properly in sync, loud as hell and very metal noise, was certainly upstaged by Mono's professional presence and creativity. There were die hards there who would of course refuse to believe that Mono was a better act, but I watched how the crowd reacted to Mono, bought out Mono's entire stock of CD's for sale and then went back to Pelican reacting with less energy and approval. Not to say that Pelican was unappreciated mind you. Just that they seemed more impressed by Mono's ingenuity. Where does that leave a fan when the headliner's show is wrought with predictability and repetition? Right where it left me- disenchanted. I was disappointed enough to leave the show early, but after all, I wasn't there for Pelican in the first place.



I gained a fair amount of respect for the members of Mono. I got to the venue in time to see what I thought was the band hauling their own gear from their rental van. Always a cool thing to do when no one is going to mob you because your level of fame hasn't gone soaring to the stratosphere. I got inside later and walked over to their merchandise table, which they were also operating themselves, and I picked out a $10 t-shirt. Seriously, when is the last time you could afford a concert t-shirt AND beer? In retrospect, I should've bought a poster for the Pelican/Mono tour. Its design was superb. Like I wish I could do that kind of superb. But again with the Pelican... The t-shirt will suffice.

There was a good amount of hilarity for MightyDoll & I while we were there. We picked out the best spot we could find that gave us a seat that could still allow us to see the stage way over the heads of the crowd. Around the half-way point of the opening act, The bassist from Mono, Tamaki, moved the merchandise to the other side of the table that MD & I were occupying. She remained there until the end of the first set and then she simply vanished leaving all of their merchandise in front of MD & I. Ummm... WTF? Very trusting. I didn't know she was a member of the band until I was looking for her and saw her on stage setting up and minutes later, picking up her bass & beginning the show. So the weird thing was that here's us sitting at the same table as Mono's products. No big deal until they start playing and stunning their new fans. Impressed and craving more, their new fans wander over to our table and begin asking questions about everything from pricing & availability to wether the CD releases are also offered on vinyl. "Uh. I dunno man, I don't work here."
"Well, where did that lady go?"
"Oh her? Yeah, she's onstage performing right now. You should come back later when they're done with their set."
"Right on... Actually, I have to leave..."
At this point MD & I took up the responsibility of selling Mono's product while they were away. MD's rationale was that we couldn't let these new fans leave without taking a CD that they were more than willing to cough up the $10 for. So we kept count and wrote down all that we sold. If fact, we sold them completely out of CD's and fans kept coming up & asking for more. It's likely that Mono would've sold out of their stuff on their own, but it was kinda cool to help them make that last $70. Before we started selling items, MD & I were wondering what to do. It was a strange situation to be presented with, watching over the band's belongings. MD initially suggested that we were the subject of a rather funny yet productive Japanese practical joke. Finally, after their set, Tamaki returned to finish the job. She was surprised to say the least, but also quite thankful. That's what you get for leaving your merchandise at the table of the nice Canadian & her defecting American boyfriend.

Thank you very much to Mono for a great performance. I can tell that you love what you do because you travel the world over to make peanuts and play for us. THAT is love & dedication.