The Reverend Horton Heat and MUCH MORE on the Stars Align tour (with Dale Watson, Jason D. Williams, and Jimmy Dale Richardson) at the Rickshaw, March 26, 2024

All photos by me, all rights reserved, etc.

So: Dale Watson. How did I not know this man's music before tonight?

Actually, I know why: I know jack shit about country music. I mean, sure, Johnny Cash, Lucinda Williams, Guy Clark, Steve Earle, Townes van Zandt and... uh... what other country music do I listen to? Is Gillian Welch country or folk? I don't even know, but it's sure not the sort of roadhouse shitkicker outlaw country that Watson's music descends from, so I'm not sure it counts. I mean, I have a Bob Wills record and a bunch of Petunias. A Merle Haggard somewhere, and a Hank Williams' Greatest Hits (a 2LP variety, at that). Five whole Marty Robbins albums, and -- please don't laugh -- I might even have a Willie somewhere. I'm not a total vulgarian, a complete loss, an uncivilized brute. But the extent of my knowledge of country music stops way before we get to Dale Watson. 

Or would have, if it hadn't been for tonight's show at the Rickshaw, where the Reverend Horton Heat -- AKA Jim Heath -- came out on stage, at one point, to cheerlead for his touring partner, describing Watson as the greatest living country singer. 

He's probably right; if there are better, I sure don't know them. My father would have loved this man's set. Actually, I found myself thinking of my father a lot this evening; as Watson sang a dark, moody tune about coal miners in Hazard, Kentucky, I recalled that my paternal grandfather worked in the mines in Nova Scotia. I imagined my Dad listening to "I Lie When I Drink (and I Drink a Lot)" and tapping his toe (he was a big fan of Tom T. Hall's "I Like Beer" and he would have appreciated Watson's constant Lone Star jokes; Watson would pause between songs to play the theme music for his favourite beer then take a sip of the Pabst he was nursing or the tequila someone brought him and smile for an imaginary camera, like it had all been a Lone Star ad, except without the Lone Star. It reminded me, weirdly, of David M. and his Gorgo ads, in fact). Hell, Dale even had similar hair to my father... white, combed back... 

He told a pretty great joke, too, about a parrot from the actual whorehouse (as Watson called it) that inspired the film The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas, the Chicken Ranch, just outside LaGrange. Said joke introduced a song by Watson about said whorehouse: a song that incorporated a bit of a relevant ZZ Top song, with Watson just vocalizing, not really singing any discernible words, commenting as he strummed that he had no idea what the actual lyrics were. No story I could recount now would do Watson's joke justice. I can't whistle with my fucked up tongue, either, so telling the story like he told it is out, too, if you know me in person. So I hope you were already there to hear it yourself (or get another chance). When was the last time someone told a joke at a show that you laughed aloud at?

Suffice to say, I have been to a LOT of concerts since my father died in 2009, and this is the first one I can recall wishing he could have been there for. I would have bought Starvation Box if they had had it at the merch table. Is it "Nothingville" that exists as a short snippet from the Elvis Comeback Special?

Seems to be. Wish I'd recorded the story to that.  Is that co-written by the same Mac Davis who did "Hard to be Humble"...?  I still have my father's copy -- actually a gift I gave him --  of that Comeback Special on DVD. It's great indeed. My Dad's the only reason I ever saw Johnny Cash live, too, so there's that.

Then Jason D. Williams--- Heath introduced him as the last man to be signed to Sun Records -- came out and did a set of genre-spanning, virtuosic piano mostly in a boogie-woogie/ Jerry Lee Lewis-kinda vein, but folding in references to everything from 80's new wave (for one song, anyhow) to "Hava Nagila," with the odd flourish that bordered on the classical. Some spiky-haired female-presenting stranger (how does one do that correctly, these days? Ask the stranger what their pronouns are so you can write about them later, without misgendering them?) turned to me and said "his fingerwork is amazing."  Some other dude (with entirely unambiguous gender presentation), who I didn't know from Adam, grabbed and hugged me and yelled in my face about how amazing Williams was, too: 

"Did you know him before tonight?" I shouted. 

"No!" 

"Me neither!" 

"It's all due to Jim Heath! Woooo!" (That guy was a bit loud, actually, but he sure made his enthusiasm known). 

Ends up I had more conversations with strangers about how great the night was than is usual (also including a guy in a Rubes t-shirt: "Is Tony here?" "I don't know!"). I even got some laughs from the guys in the lineup for the men's room, who were all muttering about how usually it's the ladies' that gets backed up, when I asked, "Do you mind if I shoot a picture of y'all?"

Someone threw the goats. 

So that was the kind of room it was. Williams got a laugh by thanking us all for coming out to support the Reverend, quipping that he knew it was him that we were there to see: "I'm just a surprise." Later I shook his hand at told him he had been a surprise indeed. 

I don't have much to report about the Reverend himself, mind you  I was very pleased that, after closing the main set with a cover of "Ace of Spades," Heath brought Williams and Watson out to share a few songs with him (ending in actual Jerry Lee Lewis stuff, for the most part); and pleased that my phone had just enough room to accommodate a song or so. I had hoped I could loop Jim in for a short chat for a magazine article (which I had not prearranged; inspiration just struck). Alas, he was slammed for time, but he DID take a minute to sign a couple records for me and chat with a few other fans. About my only quibble was that he didn't do a slow song tonight, which is almost always the part of his sets I enjoy the most; I think my single favourite song from any of the four shows of his I've seen was "Loaded Gun," from the first (or second?) time he played the Rickshaw, around the time of Rev. But he got me dancing to "Big Little Baby" and one or two others, and he turned me on to Dale Watson and Jason D. Williams, who I never would have seen otherwise. So it was a VERY rewarding, enjoyable night...

...Which I haven't completely finished telling you about, because there was one other musical artist who took the stage this evening, singing a song about getting high, I think, with the Reverend's trio backing him: a youngish fella, also on the Rev's label, Fun-Guy Records, named Jimmy Dale (he also appears to be billed as Jimmy Dale Richardson; It's a bit confusing to have a Jim and a Dale and a Jimmy Dale, and then a Jason D, all on the same bill!). I was of a mind to buy SOMETHING, especially if it justified getting my records signed, and the guy had a fun-looking ten inch for sale... but then I realized that, during his set, good as it was, he was making a kind of music I just don't listen to, much, a sort of vintage rock'n roll that, however good it is, is just not really my thing. I mean, I break out my Eddie Cochran record once every three years or so, you know? But I wanted to buy a record -- especially since the guy would have paid customs on getting them across the border, regardless if they sold, and since I'd hazard a guess he might have been gettin' paid mostly in merch sales and "exposure;" it seemed like it would be a meaningful gesture of support (and there was no Dale Watson stuff, so what else was I gonna do?). 

So there I was, wanting to buy a record, but not wanting to own it or listen to it, which posed a quandary until I spied scene stalwart and rockabilly/ roots rock obsessive Talesha dancing away up at the front... As the last song ended, I zipped through the crowd to where she was. "Talesha, I didn't get you a birthday present!" (I actually HAD GONE to her birthday event last year, with former Ray Condo sideman Jimmy Roy leading a small band). "Come here, I want to buy you a record!" 

She seemed to take it all in stride. I got Jimmy Dale (or is it just Jimmy? We don't do the two-first-names thing here so much) to sign it to her and pose for a photo (she did think his song had been excellent; this kind of music is far more her thing than mine, so I was very happy).

And now I'm broke til payday (but feelin' all right). Hey, that sounds like a country song, right there. 

Thanks again, Jim!  

Of Saul Bass' Phase IV, Panos Cosmatos, Waingro and Crop Circles: Phase IV preview version now released on Vinegar Syndrome

Someone tell Panos Cosmatos, eh? And Brian Sepanzyk of Waingro: The preview version of Saul Bass' bizarre, 1974 arthouse ants-vs-humans science fiction film, Phase IV, has come out on Vinegar Syndrome in a limited edition box set (also including a blu and 4K disc of the original theatrical cut). This marks the first-ever opportunity to see the way the film was supposed to be seen.  

If you think that the original version of Phase IV is weird, wait til you see the preview version. 

Cosmatos -- director of Beyond the Black Rainbow and Mandy -- actually (if I've got my facts straight) flew to LA to see the preview cut of Phase IV in a rare public screening. telling me at the time in an interview that "Phase IV was a huge influence on the movie in its sterile tone, stylized framing and somewhat oblique approach to story. I just saw the 'lost ending' of Phase IV last week and it was a real eye opener."

Sepanzyk, meanwhile, loved the film so much that Waingro's album, Mt. Hood, riffs unmistakably on it in its art (which we geeked out on a bit about when I interviewed him for the West Ender, which is now on the Vancouver is Awesome site). Sepanzyk should take note: Cosmatos also drew influence from Michael Mann's Heat, which is where the name Waingro comes from! (Someone introduce these guys?). 

I haven't come to full terms with the preview version quite yet. There are actually two audio variants offered, the London preview and the California one. The beginning of the London preview is a bit different from the theatrical cut; it emphasizes Hubbs'  (Nigel Davenport's) narration, and dis-includes Lesko's (Michael Murphy's), which is significant, in that there is more of a (thematically relevant?) shift in the film's voice, from Hubbs' to Lesko's, in the London preview, which is undone in both the California variant and the theatrical cut, where we hear Lesko much earlier, explaining things. But it's not a huge difference, otherwise; the London variant is less expository, takes a bit longer for words to appear at all. You enter the film through abstract imagery of some sort of astronomical phenomenon and superb ant microphotography courtesy of the great Ken Middleham (a two part documentary about his work is on Youtube; he shot bug, so to speak, for The Hellstrom Chronicle, Bug, Damnation Alley and other classics of insect fear -- as well as the locusts in Days of Heaven! His obituary is worth a read, containing a quote from a review of the film that likens it to 2001, which is also something I've done; I often call Phase IV the "2001 of insect fear cinema"). The book on Saul Bass reveals that Middleham actually bred ants for the film, to achieve the effect of having them in different colours (!). 

Crop circle enthusiasts will want to note that (according to Mark Pilkington of Strange Attractor, in a piece called "History, the Hive Mind, and Agrarian Art" in the Fortean print magazine The Anomalist) Phase IV (released in 1974) came out "two years before the first [crop circle] formations appeared in the UK." I haven't read the actual print piece but Wikipedia, referencing Pilkington, asserts that Bass' film "has been cited as a possible inspiration or influence on the pranksters who started this phenomenon," while linking the claim to a page where it does not appear. But someone may have actually read said print piece, so who knows? (It's Wikipedia, Jake.)

If the beginning is slightly stranger than what theatrical audiences saw in 1974, the main conflict and most of the middle of the film are much the same. Lesko is a young game theorist who accompanies senior scientist Hubbs into an area where there is unusual ant activity -- including said crop circles. They attempt to communicate with the ants and discover that the ants aren't very friendly (though given Hubbs' way of introducing himself, who can blame them?). There are some references to Carl Stephenson's classic adventure story "Leiningen Versus the Ants," which was itself adapted into a so-so Charlton Heston adventure called The Naked Jungle (which commits the unforgivable sin of insect fear cinema in that it is far more interested in the human characters than its ants; Heston's character is a virgin and, in the tried-and-true formula of many vintage SF and horror films, in order to succeed with women must first overcome the obstacle of primal monstrosity, here manifested in the form of army ants. This element is entirely the interpolation of the filmmakers, having no bearing on "Leiningen Versus the Ants" -- my previous link to which, by the way, will allow you to read the full story; I recommend doing so before you see Phase IV, if you want to fully appreciate the reference when you come to it, but it is not essential to understanding the film itself). 

Note that there is not a single fucking ant in that poster, which is not true for the posters for Phase IV. I vastly prefer the German version...

...to the more garish American poster, which Bass had no hand (so to speak) in, and which makes a big deal of one of the few remotely gory images in the film -- makes far more of it, in fact, than the film itself does. From p. 258 of said book, Saul Bass: A Life in Film and Design (which doesn't devote much space to the film, sadly): 

That image, when it appears -- an ant emerging from a hole in a hand, but not quite as shown in the poster -- itself is actually one of the few clunky moments in Phase IV, where the story and aesthetic of the film are seemingly altered so Bass can make an overt reference to Bunuel and Dali's Un Chien Andalou. (Y'know, the film "Debaser" is referring to? What, there's a rock video for "Debaser?" I didn't know that til just now). Which is understandable and will appeal to film geeks, but also is slightly distracting and not really connected to any other images in the movie (at least not in the theatrical cut; there are a few ants coming out of holes in the preview version that might make the shot seem more "motivated" and meaningful, but in the theatrical, it just reads as the visual equivalent of a namedrop).  

Anyhow, getting back to the story, briefly: the two men disagree about how to approach the ants. The ending of the theatrical cut of the film -- I spoil nothing here (yet) -- apparently vindicates one of their approaches, while, at least arguably, the ending of the preview version seems to vindicate the other. Much of the middle period is used to reveal their different approaches, as they attempt to engage with the ants. Where the preview cut differs significantly is in the last five minutes -- which we will get to presently... 

Before we get there, it should be noted that the Vinegar Syndrome box set is a beautiful package; I have only begun to delve into the extras, so presumably there is more to learn. It comes with a booklet I have not even opened, a 4K disc with the theatrical variant, and two separate blus for the theatrical and preview variants. The theatrical variant has a scholarly commentary; extras on the preview cut include a rather pleasing extended clip of everything Bass had prepared for the original ending, which is set wisely to music so you can just watch it as a short film on its own (though occasionally images of the making of the film pop up; there's a separate featurette on that, too, which, again, I haven't gotten to yet). People who love this film -- and who were disappointed that the book on Bass, previously mentioned, devotes only a few pages to it -- will have lots to explore. Note that I'm a bit less thrilled about the front cover of the Vinegar Syndrome release than I am about the clever riff on the Vetruvian Man in an insert, but this is a quibble -- this is a very welcome package, one of my most longed-for, begged for blus to come out (...now if someone could just do justice to Zabriskie Point?). 

But this is intended less as a review of the set than it is as a teaser/ taster for those of you who have not seen the film yet, who should note that only 8,000 of these have been made; the supply is finite. Videomatica is stocking it. I mean, if you are like me, and have seen the film in its theatrical version multiple times, you know all of this already, anyhow; about the only detail I'm learning in writing this is that the other, non-micro cinematographer on the film is Dick Bush, who shot another favourite of mine, Sorcerer. I also noticed in writing this that the soundtrack (mostly by Brian Gascoigne, with contributions from Desmond Briscoe and David Vorhaus) includes material by Japanese avant-gardist Stomu Yamash'ta, which I didn't know.  I probably should have bought the record when I could have; seems to be sold out... 

Spoiler alert: if you are concerned about spoilers, you should go see both cuts of the film before proceeding. DO NOT EVEN LOOK AT THE IMAGES THAT FOLLOW.

You have been advised. 

However, for those of you who have seen the preview cut of the film, I'm curious what you make of the ending. There's a lot of stuff in the preview that is clearly intended to boggle the mind, compelling, surrealist images that have nothing, or at least nothing obvious, to do with anything else in the film. For instance, there are suggestions of fish/ human and frog/ human hybrids which seem more like pure surrealism for its own sake than anything plot-related. Fish and frogs are not a feature of the film, so the images, like many in that preview ending, have a disorienting, mindfucking effect (there is a pelican in there, too). It's actually even a stranger ending than 2001's, in some ways; much of the ending of that film seems like eye candy for acidheads, but the preview cut ending of Phase IV has image after image that you will not, cannot understand, presented in a mounting cascade of strangeness: faceless faces, heads with holes, bizarre architecture, even some sort of apparent cataloguing system that, I don't know, maybe a science or math geek could get meaning from, but which I sure as hell can't.

But perhaps even if these images cannot be decisively unpacked, the uncertainty, discomfort, confusion and intrigue that they generate are all meant to comment on human reactions to social change. Where the theatrical cut ends with Lesko's narration that people are being changed, for unclear purposes, there is none of that here; we are SHOWN people changing, rather than being told about it. I've always thought that the core idea of Phase IV, in fact, had nothing to do with ants at all, but was rather about a shift in consciousness from one generation to the next, from the masculinist, old-school individualistic rationalism of Hubbs, which is the stuff of the 1950s SF, really -- Hubbs serves as the Leiningen of the film, or the analogue of the scientist in almost any classic creature feature -- to the more thoughtful, exploratory game-theory approach of Lesko (given his ultimate apparent willingness to follow the way of the ant, to accept the changes he is invited to undergo, could his name perhaps be a pun on "let's go"...? I'm probably reaching, but it says something that that's not entirely inconceivable). It's a film about, heh, the "dawning of the ants of Aquarius," so to speak, an incitement for humans to evolve, to shift to a new paradigm, to enter a brave new world. There's actually a curious optimism to the theatrical cut, as Lesko and Kendra (a girl rescued from a besieged farm, whose importance does not come clear til the end of the film, as she apparently embraces the hive-mind before Lesko, and may even be biologically altered as a result) seem posed to populate a new world, under the guidance of the ants, with Lesko as the "Adam" (no jokes about Adam Ant, please) and Kendra as the Eve. 

But that's the theatrical cut, and here I must emphasize that the final image in this blogpost will be the final image of that version of film, so if you are concerned about spoilers, really, really, you should have stopped by now. 

...Because what's most interesting about the final image in this montage (minus a bit of sunrise) is that it is actually rather, uh, dark. An image of enslavement, domination, subordination, where our filmic representatives, Lesko and Kendra, are seen in the jaws of a looming, black, utterly huge ant. 

There's nothing remotely as disturbing anywhere in the theatrical cut. Lesko says that he does not know why humans are being changed, but is sure that they will be told -- but this is neither dire nor hopeful, just a point of fact. In the preview cut, on the other hand, it's like you've been built up to maybe be prepared to accept, or at least be intrigued by, the paradigm shift -- then you are slapped with this horrifying image: LOOK WHAT YOU HAVE BEEN CONTEMPLATING. Sure fooled you! 

The preview cut also has a bit more close-up imagery of Kendra's foot being bitten by the ants (which are poisonous), which also makes the ending a fair bit darker. It's funny, given how tiny the ants are, how disturbing it is to see their jaws puncture flesh (you may even get to see some sort of poison being extruded, pumped into the foot by the ant's jaws, but I'm not an entomologist, so I don't know exactly what's going on there). One doubts the actor being bitten even felt it, but we believe actress Lynne Frederick's flinching response as we see the mandibles at work. It's like Bass wasn't told just to make the ending less weird, but to make it less disturbing, which is a bit funny, given the marketing of the film in the US presented it as a horror film. That I noticed, the moments where Kendra's foot are bitten and she flinches in pain are the first visual differences between the theatrical and the preview, the first shots that have been restored (Sadly, the source for the following image, WikiFeet, which seems to be some sort of foot fetish repository, does not have images of the actual bites taking place; the following image does appear in the theatrical version, as well). 

Anyhow, after spending several minutes throwing images at you that you cannot unpack, that are, a few ant bites aside, strikingly beautiful and intriguing at times but also very puzzling, that COULD arguably be said to be preparing you to open your mind, Bass, in the preview cut, ultimately seems to end on a note that vindicates the now-dead Hubbs' rejection of the ants, his determination to stick to his guns and REJECT the transformations offered. Whatever doors you may have opened will now slam shut,  because this image is terrifying (note that it looks quite a bit prettier in the Vinegar Syndrome version than in this screengrab, which is taken from a Youtube leak of the preview version ending). I defy anyone to embrace entry into a brave new world where THIS is the ultimate conclusion: 

...so not only is the preview ending quite a bit weirder, it actually seems to reverse the (at least arguable) optimism of the theatrical cut's ending. Both cuts' endings ask you to wonder where the next phase will take us -- the phases aren't explained, really, so we have to arrive at our own conclusions, either way -- but the preview cut is, while also more beautiful, surreal, and compelling,  in this final shot, much less optimistic, more conservative, and really, like those close-up bites, makes the film into even more of an "insect fear" film. It's the stuff of nightmares. 

Which you too can now have, thanks to Vinegar Syndrome! Bravo! Thank you! Blessings! (And seriously, folks, if you like thoughtful SF and have not seen this film, you really, really should). 

Selina Martin's songs, Tony Bardach's noggin, and the Minimalist Jug Band's history with both performers, apropos of a show THIS SUNDAY at Green Auto

Selina Martin by Tom Meienburg

Okay, so - there is a gig on Sunday you should go to. The headliner is Selina Martin, an Ontario musician based in France; her closest associates in this part of the world are Ford Pier (whom she shared stage with last time she was in town, at the Lido), Tom Holliston (whom she has toured with) and John Wright (she sings co-lead on Dead Bob's cover of Nomeansno's "Life Like;" so far I only have Ford and John's signature on that album, so that alone is a good excuse to go to the show). 

...But none of that is very relevant to her solo output (nor is her superb cover of everyone's favourite Rush song, "The Spirit of Radio," but it's also a nice entry point if you don't know her stuff -- it's a great song, but I don't actually care for the sound of Rush much, so I'm very grateful for it). 

Enough about other musicians, though: let's talk about Martin's song "Tangier," the debut song on her 2022 album, Time Spent Swimming. It's multi-layered, technologically-enhanced music that -- unlike her more rock-oriented Disaster Fantasies, more on which later -- brings to mind people like Laurie Anderson, while sounding nothing much like her (Anderson's music is often detached, quirky, and cerebral, but Martin's music is grounded in more powerful emotions and more concrete observations). Martin explained in a past interview with me that she 

lived in Tangier for one month. Exactly four weeks. And the only reason I went there was that I was on the verge of being an illegal alien in Europe and I had to exit the continent [...] It was quite last minute. My brother has a friend who has a friend in Tangier who had a little riad/ hotel and that's where I stayed for my first few days until I found another place. I was floating. It felt like I was just floating in France anyway, I had no apartment and was living out of a tiny suitcase and so instead of going back to Canada I decided to float further, and to see what inspiration or education or information I could gather in North Africa.

Martin explains further on her bandcamp that she found it "almost impossible to rent a guitar" in Tangier -- it's not a thing, there, apparently. But though the guitar she finally acquired was "very used," she began to work on music, part of which involved listening to the city. ("Being in a new place brings new sounds to your ears. I am always captivated by new sounds. I recorded some of them and used them as samples for this song"). There are also a few guitar riffs that bring Northern African music to mind -- listen to "Tangier," if you haven't, then come back...  

Continuing the conversation about Tangier, I asked Martin: The lyrics for that song seem very concrete and possibly autobiographical - roosters crowing all day, the peeling of apricots... Is the line about being a "wayward astronaut" a riff on the title of your first album? The line about being mapless reminds me of the title of Life Drawing Without Instruction, as well... are you a wanderer by nature, or do you have a practical side that you are in revolt against, or..?

A lot of those specifics in "Tangier" are based on things that happened. The roosters, yes. The collared doves, yes, all day long. (and I tried to mimic the song of the collared dove in the way I delivered that line). I did sort of fall in love/lust with a Moroccan guy who peeled the apricots while I told him all my thoughts. It was ridiculous. He spoke no English nor French and I spoke no Arabic. But I talked to him anyway. And we sort of understood each other, but only sort of. I decided to use him as a metaphor for his city. It was like a lover I wanted but couldn't have, nor could I even grasp/ touch, as the culture is quite different and I didn't know the rules.

There is no deliberate connection of wayward astronaut and mapless pioneer to my earlier albums, but perhaps you've touched on something that has been hiding in my subconscious.

So that's all really interesting as a story. If you've read The Sheltering Sky, or Naked Lunch, or listened to Ornette Coleman jam with the Master Musicians of Joujouka, or if your favourite member of the Rolling Stones is Brian Jones (who popularized said Master Musicians), or... no, wait, I'm doing it again, I'm trying to drum up excitement for Martin's output by reference to externals. Cut that out, Al: direct them to the OTHER side of Martin's music -- her more driven, Pixies-like rock. Try "Public Safety Management," for starters ("About the erosion of personal freedoms and rights, esp. during times of crisis").

With references to face masks and untrustworthy politicians, you'd be forgiven for thinking the song COVID-inspired, but it's actually from 2010, and has more in common with speculative rock fictions like the Talking Heads' "Life During Wartime." Which is consciously alluded to in the title of another song on that album, "Rape During Wartime," featuring Martin Tielli, formerly of the Rheostatics. The singer explains on her bandcamp that "It's a song about violence against women. Or about violence against anyone." Told mostly from the point of view of a rapey soldier (or other authority figure, "born with a gun/ concealed withmy pants on") on the hunt for a victim (who presumably is speaking her trauma in the chorus, "I fall down/ I'm still awake"), the song is both catchy and disturbing, which is true of many of the "disaster fantasies" alluded to in the title. Musically, it's a bit less technologically-layered than Time Spent Swimming, and maybe thus a bit easier to deliver, live, but it's still extremely satisfying popcraft (do not neglect buying this album if it pops up on the merch table; I learned that lesson last time -- you won't get many chances to acquire it). 

Martin is only one of three artists performing on Sunday. The opener is Al Mader (the Minimalist Jug Band), pictured above, who I interviewed at some length last year about his connections to (late local fuck band impresario) Jack Keating, John Cooper Clarke and John Otway; he does have some history with Martin, having seen her in Vancouver "probably a couple of decades ago, maybe playing with Bob Wiseman [of Blue Rodeo; he's mentioned in Martin's artist bio]. It was so long ago, but we did kind of hang out. It's all kind of vague, but I've seen her play and thought, she's someone to watch." 

Mader has also done a show with Slowpoke and the Smoke, "but I don't think there's anything newsworthy about it," he tells me from his used bookstore gig -- this would have been a somewhat goofier incarnation of the band, known mostly for costumed performances highlighting quirky originals and doo-wop covers (including the odd Frank Zappa tune). The new album features a song leader Tony Bardach wrote for the Pointed Sticks' self-titled album from 2015, "Tin Foil Hat," which, he explains in a recent video interview I did with him, connects less to an interest in conspiracy theory and more to his desire to practice French and his habit of strolling around Gibsons, singing to his animals, who are featured in this charming video (for the Pointed Sticks version of the song; Slowpoke and the Smoke's is here). 

There's lots else in that interview, but much of it focuses on a theme of bodily harm and indignity, somewhat relevant to my own life in recent years, as my friends will understand, but which also appears to have been relevant to Tony (check out "Bumped my Noggin" or the reggae-inflected "Bit of Blood"). There is, as he notes, quite a cinematic quality to the album -- a sense that there is a through line to be drawn, perhaps an underlying narrative...). 

But focusing on "Bumped My Noggin," Bardach explains -- at about the 19 minute mark of said video interview -- that "There's a lot of truth in that song, but at the same time, the truth makes the fiction. There's no Ruth if there's no Richard, as Robert Wyatt might have said." (Some of Tony's references, and indeed some of his jokes, sail smoothly over my head, but he's talking about Wyatt's album Ruth is Stranger Than Richard, here). 

In fact, the truth underlying Bardach's images is "more insane" than the actual song, he tells me: at a party, circa 2009, "I fainted, and on the way down, I thought, 'fuck, this is it,' and I hit my head on a coffee table so hard that I blacked out for some time. And then I got up, and everybody looked pretty concerned; I was kind of spinning, seeing birds and stuff. And after I felt like I kind of had my bearings, I split the party. I walked out the front door, and there was my truck parked across the street. Except it was no longer where I had left it; it was up on the sidewalk. Someone had smashed into the driver's side front quarter panel so hard that they knocked it up onto the sidewalk; here was my truck, smashed up, un-drivable, up on the sidewalk. I totally forgot that I was on the way to drive the truck to the hospital..." 

All of this is directly alluded to in the lyrics for "Bumped My Noggin," though without the explanation, the song makes it sound like Bardach maybe had bumped his head in the process of smashing up his own truck -- like he'd been in a car accident, say. Knowing the relationship to reality greatly enriches the song (which also contains some paranoid fictions NOT grounded in reality, but I'll refer you to the video interview for more on that, at about the 23 minute mark). 

Bardach continues that after seeing what had happened, "I forgot that I'd bumped my head, and just dealt with getting the truck dealt with, and eventually got home. It was some time before I realized that I had hit my head; a few of my friends told me. And I also realized that I hadn't been the same since. Something had changed; not necessarily in a bad way, but I had kinda become softer, easier to get along with. And it really hasn't changed, I don't think, y'know. But eventually, about six months later, they said my head was fine."

 

We talk a bit about brain trauma -- I share a story with Tony that I might not have, had I realized Tony would give me the go-ahead to put the clip on Youtube! (Luckily I named no names). But I'm also very happy to see that Tony seems okay!

"I'm lucky," Bardach responds. "And I watch those shows, sometimes, where people redevelop somebody's house, and they'll get the owner to smash everything up inside, and there they'll be with eye protection and a huge sledgehammer, taking out a brick wall, but no helmet! That's a brick wall, with bricks flying all over the place!" 

So there's one positive takeaway for readers: if you are ever in a circumstance where chunks of brick are flying, wear a helmet. The next is to go see the Minimalist Jug Band, Tony Bardach's newest iteration of Slowpoke and the Smoke (with the same members, Eric Napier and Bradford Lambert of the Ford Pier Vengeance Trio, but a slightly different, less fuck-bandy, approach to the music) and Selina Martin, who you're less likely to see back this way for awhile, unless you make it to one of her other shows around BC. She's in Roberts Creek tomorrow night! 

Don't forget your Dead Bob record! 

March 21 - Roberts Creek, BC - The Little Legion with SFH
Mar 24 - Vancouver, BC - Green Auto with Slowpoke and The Smoke and The Minimalist Jug Band. doors 7pm TICKETS HERE
March 29-31 - Penticton, BC - Ignite the Arts Festival
Apr 4 - Duncan, BC - house concert - andrew@barelynorth.com
Apr 5 - Powell River, BC - Cranberry Hall with the Womens Punk Rock Choir.
Apr 6 - Campbell River, BC - private concert
Apr 7 - Victoria, BC - Wheelies with Hush Hush Noise

Vancouver show event page here. 

Ghosts and Galena: Ioana Vreme Moser, Vancouver New Music event, March 16, 2024

Note: since initial publication, these piece has been augmented with quotes from Dan Kibke and Alex Varty. 

What was that Nietzsche quote...? From Twilight of the Idols, I think: "Once and for all, there is a great deal that I do not wish to know. Wisdom sets bounds even to knowledge" 

Don't tell that to Ioana Vreme Moser (that's the Vancouver New Music page; her official page is here. Photograph of her below by me). 

At the end of last night's Vancouver New Music event with Moser, I turned to a friend whom I'd stumbled across -- after receiving a last-minute invite out -- and remarked that one thing I had learned beyond a doubt from the evening was that even basic information that is fundamental to actually understanding the world, no matter how simply, coherently and cogently it is laid out, can be extraordinarily intimidating if a) there is enough of it, b) you feel like you should know a great deal of it already; and yet c) all of it is totally new to you.

He said something back like, "I'm glad it's not just me." 

Like, take a minute: what does a circuit board inside your cell phone look like? What minerals are used to manufacture each circuit? How many different minerals are there in your phone? Which of them are common? Which are rare earths? (What's a rare earth? I think there might be a rock band with that name, but that's the only association I have with the term. The band was not actually discussed last night, but rare earths were briefly explained, though I cannot replicate that explanation now. Incidentally, Alex Varty, on reading this, notes, "for some intriguingly fictionalized background on rare-earth mining and DIY electronics, I highly recommend the film Neptune Frost!"). And what about the material conditions under which the materials in question were harvested? Which of them come from conflict zones? What is the history of their mining? How bad were conditions in those mines? How does this connect to the history of the country (were the mine operators a colonizing force? Were the actual miners indigenous labour? Were they slaves? If they were paid, how much? What were the mined items used for by said colonizers, at the time?). Are these minerals toxic in one way or another? If so, how dangerous are they? What are the effects on miners, if particulate from the mine gets inhaled? What if it gets in the water supply? 

You will be trying to process the answers to these questions, which, if you are like me, you have never even thought to ask before; but though each bit of information is clearly and cogently delivered, you will find that before these answers are firmly fixed in your understanding, that Moser has moved on, and you find yourself learning about the history of lead pipes, going back to the Roman Empire. Did you know once that people used to use lead as a sweetener, because added to liquid, it has a sweet quality? It was a bad idea.

And did you know that lead is actually just really old uranium that has lost its potency? What does that mean, exactly? (Who was it that said that if you really know something, you can explain it in simple terms? They might have been talking about Moser; she has done an amazing amount of homework to be able to do what she does). 

The above captures maybe twenty minutes worth of material as Moser works her way forward from the first time one of the substances in question was mined (the gateway to her presentation was galena) to its use in communications technology. Shortly thereafter, you're learning about how radio frequencies work, Moser connecting the dots for you. How do we get from mined lead to a communicated signal? (How do sound waves travel when there is no wire to act as a conduit?). How does any of this material we take utterly for granted actually work? 

Moser is not intending to make her presentation into a shamefest, does not set out to taunt you with your ignorance, and unlike me, above, poses no overt questions of her audience; she just tells you the information, guiding you along from one answer to the next, to questions you could have and should have asked before (but didn't). But regardless of her lucidity and lack-of-intent to one-up or shame the audience, to some extent, shame was still an effect for me, noted and analyzed as I became aware of it, and thus dispelled, but nonetheless briefly extant: a blush of embarrassment about how ignorant I am. Seeing how clearly Moser understands her stuff makes it feel like you should have thought about it yourself a bit, given that she's talking about technology you use every day. 

Know here that normally, my actual understanding of how technology works runs only a few notches above the level of a cargo cult. It might as well be ghosts and magic. And I had done no homework; I was out thrifting under the influence of an Edison Jolt when I got my invitation to last night's event, and didn't actually intend to keep it, at first; it was by surprise that, as the event started, I was not far from the Annex, still out and about (I had thought to be home by that point, watching Frankenhooker, in fact). But I learned, as I tried to keep my mind on task, that at some point, ignorance becomes almost a self-defense strategy, because it just seems like every question one asks leads to an answer that touches on five more questions you do not know the answer to, some of which may actually have historical, political, environmental, or ethical implications; it will also just be so time-consuming, so mind-altering, so potentially life-complicating, to make it all make sense... How is the sausage made? (no, she did not go into sausages; I'm speaking figuratively). 

By the half-hour mark of her presentation, Moser had completely overwhelmed me. I contemplated myself as Homer Simpson, dreaming of a donut, drooling. Occasionally my mind wandered (text the wife, also out, but not with me: is the cat with the neighbour?). Occasionally I just lost myself in the projected images and produced sounds. But the presentation was to some extent only the tip of things; Moser had actually come to town to guide other people in a multi-day workshop, a workshop which really is the work (to paraphrase something she said), going (we presume) into still greater depth on the matters discussed with the participants, and helping them in building their own circuits that can be used to generate... radio signals? Was that what was being generated? It all connected somewhere to radios, and causing oscillations... umm... 

Dan Kibke, one of the participants -- his hands are pictured above, and he's in a few of these photos -- elaborates:

the device built in the workshop it's technically a crude oscillator using a diy makeshift transistor that relies on early principles of radio. If you want to get really technical it's a "zinc negative resistance oscillator" as explored by Nyle Steiner where Ioana took her practical jumping off point from.

http://www.sparkbangbuzz.com/els/zincosc-el.htm

He is much more well known for his other work in music technology with the invention of the EVI (electronic valve instrument) and subsequent EWI (electronic wind instrument) instruments and controllers which were designed to allow trumpet and wind players a familiar interface to play synthesizers with instead of a keyboard. The technology was first developed in the 70s and later licensed to Akai and Yamaha. He's also produced synthesizers such as the Synthacon and a modular.

https://www.patchmanmusic.com/NyleSteinerHomepage.html

If it was more of a talk than a performance, there was a sort of performative aspect to the end of the night, when all the workshop attendants joined Moser to produce sounds in "concert" with one another. One of them had invited me (thanks, Dan!). People prodded at things with things, and sounds were produced, with some participant's handmade radios (synthesizers? sound generators? circuit boards?) working better than others to make things oscillate, and some not working at all... 

As I joined people on the floor to wander between performers, I reflected on my reaction: "Maybe I'm just ashamed of my stupidity?" Some people asked questions of the "performers," but typically, not knowing where to start, my grasp of the fundamentals of what I was seeing and what it meant so tenuous, despite having had it all explained at some length in advance, I just kept my mouth shut... 

I wonder what Moser makes of the barriers that make any of what she said less than common knowledge. Are we in some way, ala Nietzsche, afraid to ask these questions? Is there a conspiracy among the figurative sausage-makers to discourage these questions? Were there any barriers she faced, herself, getting from one point to another -- lessons she had to learn about our protective bubbles of ignorance, in bursting them? Were any of the new understandings in any way threatening to her? Why is it more frightening to know how the technology in your pocket works (and where its constituent parts come from) than it is to be dependent on technology you don't understand at all? And how has her work changed her consumption of technology?

It was a phenomenally useful inquiry. I do not know the content of her website, but I would hasten there to explore it, if this is of interest, because I am sure there is a lot more to be learned there than here. Made for an unexpected, fascinating night out. Note: I did ask her if she has any thoughts of offering her workshop virtually, but there are challenges, as part of what she does involves getting hands-on with people's circuitry. So people who attended were fortunate indeed. 

It was nice to see Heather and Giorgio of Vancouver New Music again, too! It was the first Vancouver New Music event I had seen in years, and a fascinating and provocative one. There is more in this series to come -- from computer sentience with a (decaying) twist to hand-built African analogue synths with parts scavenged from computer repair shops (sounds like the film Neptune Frost might actually be good "advance homework" for that... hm). Both nights will doubtlessly feature artist talks as compelling as this evening's. Check them out...?