Off the Grid, on the Griddle with Ross Birdwise, Dan Kibke, Heather McDermid and others: a Weekend of Broken Grooves, Collisions, and Pancakes, all in the Ejaculation Death Rattle Penumbra

Vancouver fake jazzers and seekers of unusual artistic experiences might wish to take note. While Ejaculation Death Rattle, whom I last wrote about here, have been "slumbering" for awhile, now, there are two events this weekend involving members of the band: a set by Ross Birdwise (and collaborator Raj Gill, who I do not believe has been a member of EDR) and another by Dan Kibke and Heather McDermid (who has a bandcamp with nothing on it and, under the alias Lee Shoal, is also in the Creaking Planks, who are a very different band from EDR; not sure where to link!). 

The first event, taking place this Friday, is a multi-artist evening of improvisatory and exploratory music with free passages cultivating a relationship with beats and grooves; and the second evokes memories of the noise pancake breakfast, one of my very favourite traditions in the Vancouver avant-garde music scene, at which I have occasionally flipped pancakes. 

First things first, we have Broken Groove, aka bRoKeN gRoOvE, taking place Friday at Hypha Arts (1410 Venables; no pancakes will be served; those of you who are in it for the pancakes will have to wait until Sunday morning, more on which below). I gather that Friday will be a bit of a "happening," with room for some interactivity with the audience, and that some of it may serve as a springboard for further explorations on December 6th, at a separate event (more on which below). As for the sounds involved, Gill has described the music to be made as "combining beats and free jazz improvisation, a fusion of freedom and structure."

I've listened to recordings of some of the beats that Birdwise will be weaving electronically-modified vocals and synths over, under, and through. Other beats will be provided in situ by Brady Marks and by Adrian Avendaño, who has a background in free jazz, I'm told, and I believe will actually be drumming; I'm not sure. But the beats I have heard are quirky, glitchy things, very much electronic in nature, and of interest in their own right, possibly the basis of a future recording of their own. Birdwise explains that

the beats - even the ones with polyrhythms, non-grid elements, extreme syncopation and swing, and some elements that drift out of time, are still largely based on grooves - in the sense of counts of four and regular sense of meter underlying everything else. I'll be using some that do not groove or break the groove more as well (more chaotic kinds of rhythms, arhythmic stuff etc), but it's important than many beats do groove, because I'm not really trying to set up an opposition where its grooves vs. chaos or one thing is better than another. It is more about contrast, or in some cases merging disparate elements, and also embracing both repetition and change. In some ways mixing popular and experimental hopefully in a mutually edifying way, and all in the context of a larger event or happening.

I presume that this image, provided by Birdwise, of a mangled chainlink fence is a photo he took. I rather love it -- how there are junctures, a framework, but also things running between them, twisting through them, like strands of music weaving amongst said beats. These explorations -- freedom and structure, pattern and chaos -- also extend to painting, AI, and things in-between, "related to my interest in musical grids (and grooves) as well as notions of abandoning or stretching or breaking or contorting the grid..."

There are also dense interweavings traceable between the performers Friday. Birdwise has connections to with Nikko, Jeannette, and Haley via the Co.Crea.Tive Collective, though he is not, he says, on their website; he was involved in a project they had a hand in called Crawling Human. Meantime, he explains,

Adrian, Matt and Prophecy also perform with Soressa Gardner and I in Sounding The Dusk Meridian, another improv heavy group which originally formed to provide sound (live) for an installation by Keith Langergraber, partner of Heather from EDR. In some ways STDM is in that spirit. Prophecy and Heather also had ties to Her Jazz Noise Collective and I've worked with Prophecy (and Soressa) from around 2008 or 2009 onwards in various groupings, including projects related to my ‘bent time’ beats, the latest album of which [having been] eventually released on mille plateaux in 2023.

As for Ejaculation Death Rattle, they were "one my earliest improv groups and informs what I do to this day," Birdwise tells me. "In some ways my interests in beats go back to techno and industrial, but when I was in EDR I was increasingly interested in wonky, stumbling, polyrhythmic beats as well as more four on the floor material."

The Friday show "continues in some ways that artdamaged EDR tradition of both regular and irregular rhythms and anti-rhythms combined with left-field improv, in a DIY setting akin to a happening. But at times its going to make a more explicit nod to techno and other groove musics. but in a very singular way."

Raj and Birdwise may make this event into "a series of some sort," he speculates, "with different musicians invited to contribute different grooves and improv approaches and other people experimenting with the setup of the evening." People with an interest in furthering these conversations will also want to check out the upcoming event on December 6th at KW Studios, involving Mike WT Allen, Magneticring, Matthew Ariaratnam, and Ivan Lu.  

 As for Dan Kibke and Heather McDermid, they will be performing as Crow Moon  on Sunday as part of the first (annual?) COLLIDE Festival, offering what McDermid describes as "noise-synth, offbeat drone, random voltages and temporal slices of further localities" at the Dec 1 Pancake Noise Breakfast event (this begins at 11:30AM at the Russian Hall, at 600 Campbell). The Instagram links Dan sent seem to be directing me to the wrong places, so I'm not entirely sure what to expect, but THERE WILL BE PANCAKES. 

So unless you catch COVID or something, you really should be there. 

(2006: Vancouver's first-ever noise pancake event, at Blim)

BEAT last night: four virtuosos

SO: went to see BEAT last night: King Crimson and Frank Zappa alum uniting to play 80's King Crimson, with drum support from Tool's Danny Carey. Short version: it was great!

People were lined up on Granville when I got there, and the progress forward was slow; then an Orpheum satff member came along the row and pointed out (as I already knew) that the front entrance was on Smithe and we could get in faster if we lined up there, since there were more ticket-takers. I had wondered why we were lined up on Granville at all, so I quickly departed for the side of the building, and -- because I moved so confidently -- a few other people got out of line with me and made the same trek. They then gathered around me in the other line and began to complain about the grocery store effect, about how this line might have more ticket takers but it also had people coming from more than one direction (people had also apparently lined up on Seymour) and was therefore in fact slower: "It's always the way! We should have just stayed in the line we were in." I felt, personally, like we did get in sooner and wondered if people were actually that bitchy and suspicious or were just grousing good-naturedly as a form of making small talk. I mean, I guess it beats complaining about the weather.

Haven't been to the Orpheum in ages; last time was when Nick Cave did a duet with Mark Lanegan back in 2014? The only time I ever saw Lanegan. Believe the vid you find for that -- of Lanegan and Cave doing a duet on "The Weeping Song" -- was shot by Art Perry and is one of those cases where a fan video captures a truly rare/ precious moment; Cave remarked on it after Lanegan's death, as I recall, though I don't remember specifically what he said.   

Initially, once seated, I was in row 25, an aisle seat (useful for avoiding leg cramps) when someone who looked a bit like John Lucas, and who was in fact named John, but who I don't think WAS John Lucas, since he was up from Seattle, asked me if I was seated alone. I said I was. "Well, my son couldn't make it so I have an extra seat in row 2, if you want to join me?"

An upgrade! Best upgrade since that time I was flying from Tokyo to Vancouver and got bumped into first class, and even though my new seat was one in, the legroom was okay... We chatted about, well, seeing Nick Cave and about how gauche it was for one member of the audience to "out" Elvis Costello at the Massey Hall during that "Nick Cave in conversation" event. Up to that point, Costello and Krall were just being people, unmolested and unremarked upon -- which oddly made me respect Costello more than I already did, as I said to John, seated beside me. "Oh, you were there too?" "Yeah: do you remember the guy who asked the question about Leonard Cohen's 'The Future,' about the crack and anal sex, apropos of Cave's possible self-censorship about the arterial spray in 'Papa Won't Leave You Henry'...? That was me, before my voice got fucked up." 

Laugh if you will that I introduced myself thus, folks, but that question got the arterial spray re-instated in live performances of that song. It was really funny how Cave hesitated, performing it that night, so to remember where it went. A lot of questions that night were about grief and the afterlife and such, but that moment was one of the few very funny ones. 

It is rare that you get to laugh at the words "warm arterial spray." I count this as, in an odd way, an accomplishment, not that I went on about it with John-from-Seattle. But I did wonder how Elvis Costello felt about being outed by that one audience member? Was he pleased to know that Cave knew he was there? Was Cave pleased to know Costello was there? Would they just rather not know such things and "be people" whenever possible? (Cave didn't know Bob Dylan was in the audience the other day when Dylan tweeted about him, which I believe he said he was grateful for -- it would have put some pressure on him, had he realized). I guess it's something to ask Cave about, not that I'll ever interact with him again. It has no bearing on BEAT whatsoever. 

I did make a couple of trips to the merch table during breaks, but bought nothing. There was no vinyl. There were signed CDs by Belew and Levin, and a blu of Levin playing a Chapman stick, which is a fascinating and unfamiliar instrument, but how often would I watch it, especially given the amount of content on YouTube which features him playing the same daunting instrument? As for t-shirts, the decision was made for me, as they only went up to XL. I was more inclined to covet the ubiquitous King Crimson shirts in the audience, anyhow: but none of those were on sale. There were also some Stickmen shirts in the crowd (but not on the table), and I saw one guy in a Steve Vai shirt. I saw no Tool shirts anywhere... Though I did see someone incongruously rockin' a Triumph Allied Forces tee. 

I had that album when I was a kid, but it's been forty years since I heard it. I'm in no rush! 

In my new! improved! seat, I was enjoying hearing about the meet and greet that had happened earlier, with both John and the fellow in the aisle having had a chance to shake hands and say hello and get their photo taken with the artists (which will then be emailed to them; you didn't get to take pictures of your own, apparently). The line moved quite briskly, but people were affable enough. I don't think I asked how much it cost for the privilege, but I took the opportunity to tell John about the Riverview hospital anecdote, linked below, which is really the only thing I'd have to say to these guys anyhow, at this point (I guess I could ask Tony Levin if anyone ever told him he looked like Bob Ostertag?). 

Then the music began. Belew and Vai were dressier when they first came out, wearing suits, which they would take layers off of during the night -- especially Vai, who had three distinct "phases" in dress and seemed the dandiest of the men onstage. His initial suit almost made him seem like he might pull a switchblade on you -- a vaguely menacing cut, though I'm not sure why (too many 1940s crime movies?). They opened with "Neurotica" and "Neal and Jack and Me," with Levin going right to the stick for the first two songs, then strapping on a normal bass for the third one, whereupon Belew joked -- he joked a lot between songs -- that they had started with a couple of the easy ones, and were now going to play one of the really hard ones, which proved to be "Heartbeat," which -- I mean, I think the joke here is, it surely was the simplest of songs they did, though whether simple-is-hard for these guys or Belew was just playing with words, I cannot say.  

While I was otherwise in a mellow frame, I confess that I did feel some resentment at the fellow down the aisle who got up to go to the bathroom, making us all stand up mid-song, then stand again for his return, but moreso because I also had to pee, and had for awhile, at that point. I also had to fart, which I was suppressing. Much of the end of the first set, I was regretting the lentils I'd been eating the day before. During the intermission, I spent some time in the lobby on "controlled release," but it just seemed like it would be gauche to fart next to my row 2 benefactor... I could feel the gas expanding in me...

Said hellos to Rob Frith and Gerald Yoshida during the intermission (Gerald, you really can have that signed Girlschool record, just hit me up). Long lineup for snacks, the guy beside me bitching that someone (he thought) had butted in, though the buddy of the guy who butted in said the guy had a claim on the space. I did not get involved much, but tried to project a Lebowski vibe on the dispute: "It's all just space, man, no need to get so, like, territorial about it." I was somewhat amused that the guy who was behind the guy who he thought had butted in (who in turn thought he had a claim) ultimately  jockeyed to get back in front of him, to get his beverage that full minute sooner and make the alleged line-butter wait. I assume there was alcohol in his drink: it seems to go well with aggrieved territorialism. Myself, I bought a Pepsi Zero (and some Pringles), then I went and stood in line for the toilet, munching chips the whole time. 

It was a very male audience, last night, so the lineups for the mens', for once, were longer for us than the ladies'. But I felt among my people: overweight men in their 50s with facial hair. 

Returning to my newly upgraded seat just as the second set began, I discovered the guy who was sitting in the actual aisle now was shooting a video involving Danny Carey and Belew playing a drum solo at the front of the stage (I am sure there is a setlist online where you can archaeologize this and find out the song; the setlists seem very consistent for this tour). It was very pretty music, and I didn't want to push past the guy and wreck his video, especially since he'd really paid for the swank seat, so I just squatted in the aisle for the whole seven minutes of the song, my hamstrings twanging aggrievedly. I had only taken few photos up to that point, but since I was stuck in the aisle anyhow, I seized the moment and took a few more. 

Nick Cave came to mind another time during the night, when the shadows of both Levin (on the wall to the audience's right) and Vai (to the wall on the left) reminded me of Cave's very expressive shadow on the walls of the Vogue a few years ago. Levin's hatless shadow was not as photogenic as Vai's hatted one, so I just got shots of Levin himself. (Note that he played the bass with weird stick-things on his fingers; I had not seen those before). 

The audience was an interesting place to be in. There were some young people who, with Belew's encouragement, tried to dance late in the second set (which was initially ixnayed by security, despite Belew's invitation). Ultimately, the final song, "Thela Hun Ginjeet" would see everyone standing and up-front, dancing, which is only proper for such a show. Some of the most expressive people in the audience were quite dorky, actually, wearing baseball caps and looking like they probably were (or had been) the type to get beaten up in junior high school for their lunch money. Does that still happen? 

Those dorks rocked, though. There was a kid in a cap in particular, seated right up front, who obviously loved Three of a Perfect Pair, which featured, Belew remarked, some of the rarer material (or did he say "scarcer"?) that the band would do last night. Said kid nodded along so enthusiastically that I felt a bit jealous of him, in fact, because that's the album of the three I know least well. But jealousy is never the whole story: I was happy for him too. 

Then I spent awhile thinking about a neurodiverse Tool fan who I met at work, who I told about the Beat show, since he'd gone to see Tool when last they were in town. I wondered if he had come out, or if the presumed acidhead from Riverview who bonded with me over "Indiscipline" was perhaps there? 

Are there a fair number of mentally ill and/ or neurodivergent King Crimson fans out there? Is Fripp himself neurodivergent? 

I assumed the elephant logo was a signifier of Fripp, or King Crimson: the elephant in the room. Question for an interview that I did not do: how is playing this material live different when Robert Fripp isn't present? 

Weirdly, Vai, who was playing Fripp's guitar parts, looked younger when he took his hat off, later in the evening. Flashy as he is as a person, I actually thought he was somewhat understated in his playing last night -- essential, but subordinate, aware maybe that it's Levin and Belew who have the Crimson pedigree? He called less attention to himself as a guitarist than I expected, in any case. There were clearly people in the audience who were there as Vai fans, who cheered him every time his playing took the fore. 

For me, Belew's guitar was a bit more noticeable, maybe because he was front-and-centre, closest to me. I finally caught the "animal sounds" thing people talk about with him, which I'd read about but not noticed, until early on -- perhaps during "Neal and Jack and Me" -- where he used his guitar to evoke baaing sheep, or such. Then this morning -- with my wife never having heard about Belew and "animal sounds" before -- I was playing her a live clip of "Matte Kudasai," one of the prettiest songs they did, and she commented that his guitar sounded like whales or something. 

Anyhow, I can't write about playing on this level. The playing of men like this is more evolved than my listening (but I'm working on it). 

I have very little else to say about the night. Carey's best drum bits were during "Indiscipline." Belew dedicated "Red" to Robert Fripp and Bill Bruford. Levin brought his camera out near the end -- his Facebook has shown off several of the venues the band has played in, and many are quite spectacular. This is going to be a very well-documented tour...! 

I don't know if I've ever seen a higher level of musicianship onstage, seen more complex parts performed so proficiently by four people. Certainly not at rock concert, I don't think. A lot of the more virtuosic stuff one sees, it's one person, like, say, Richard Thompson, and it's all about that one person and their backing band, but last night, it was four virtuosos, playing densely interlocked parts, all equally spectacular. I closed my eyes for bits of it, and it was gorgeous, but I also enjoyed it when my eyes were opened. 

The rest is photos, by me, taken in sequence: the end of the main set, the encore, and the end of the encore. I did not photograph the long lineup to leave, but I just sat it out. 

Thanks, BEAT: that was splendid. And thanks again to John from Seattle, for the upgrade!

Post-script: Tony Levin's Tour Diary for the show is here (attentive eyes can spot me in several photos). Apparently the dancing during "Thela" was the most exuberant they've seen yet. And if Tony Levin looks like Bob Ostertag... does Adrian Belew look like Noah Walker? A little?

Rodney DeCroo's In the Belly of the Carp

This blog will soon break its hiatus, as I I have promised out a couple of things and must do them. Like, when I met Ty Stranglehold to swap Mamas, I interviewed him about his band Knife Manual, apropos of their Dec. 7th show upcoming at the Waldorf, opening for the Dwarves (one may also wish to note their upcoming Victoria Angry Snowmans gig). So I have to do that; what was it Rob Nesbitt said, "A Promise is a Promise"? (Speaking of whom, there's still a giant Rob Nesbitt piece I want to put into the world, too, mostly about his COVID-scuttled power pop magnum opus, Mine Would be the Sun, though it still doesn't feel like the right time yet; I want him to return to performing!!!). But I'm actually really enjoying taking a break from writing -- and, briefly, from concertgoing; I was even offered a free Mac Sabbath ticket last night and did not take it. 

There is one essential performance coming up that I must mention, however, though it's not exactly a concert: Rodney DeCroo's In the Belly of the Carp, opening later this week at the Shadbolt Centre.

I have, in fact, been absolved by Rodney of doing a feature about In the Belly of the Carp,  but there is something rather curious afoot with DeCroo here -- intriguing, but also puzzling -- that should be noted by someone. Consider the Facebook introduction to the performance:

"When brilliant but erratic songwriter Rodney has to give a concert, spectres from his troubled past emerge to play tug-of-war with his well-being, torpedo his relationships (especially with his long-time manager and closest friend Samantha), and plunge him into a battle for his soul inside a giant fish."

...which fish presumably relates to Fishing for Leviathan, and perhaps Dr. Theodore Fishpants, both written about here, back in 2022 (an unbelievable two years ago; it feels like it was only a few months ago). All of which leaves me with questions ("why fish?"). Plus it feels like it's been awhile since there's been a straight-up Rodney DeCroo concert. I have really enjoyed the concerts of his I've seen -- besides catching a few songs at a Railway Club gig quite some time ago, I've seen DeCroo at least twice at the Cultch, once debuting his last straight-up physical media release, Old Tenement Man -- an essential local album -- and interviewed him a couple of times (see here, here, and here) to boot.  I am, in fact, ready for a straight-up Rodney DeCroo concert again, where I can hear "Jacob's Well" and "You Ain't No One" and "Stupid Boy in an Ugly Town" and my other favourites of his songs (I hope to be there when he breaks "War Torn Man" out of retirement, too).  

This (I don't think) will not be that concert. DeCroo appears to have gone "meta," incorporating his songs within a theatrical structure that includes his music (but what's the ratio of songs-to-theatre? I expect there's more of the latter, but...). Theatre is also something DeCroo excels at (cf. Didn't Hurt), but he appears to be putting his musical performance, this time, in a structure that relates explicitly to his not having performed as a songwriter in awhile; there's some personal context for this which presumably will become text during the piece -- not quite sure, but I don't want to delve, save to say that DeCroo tells me that it's "a play that also features my songs and poems accompanied by a live band and visual fantasias by shadow puppetry wizards Mind of a Snail. It's easily the most ambitious project I've attempted. I feel a bit like Evil Knievel about to jump 50 trailer trucks or something insane like that, but hopefully with a better outcome!" (It "sounds dramatic," he says, but will also be "quite humorous and fun"). 

Apparently there will also be a "water-based fog, mineral-based haze, and a strobe light" (!) and "a trauma-informed Active Listener present at all performances," which is also kind of piquant; those of us who have seen Didn't Hurt know that DeCroo's performances can get quite... what's the right adjective? "Powerful" isn't powerful enough... "Confessional" sounds too Catholic... "Potent" and "tough" sound too macho, "challenging" sounds too cerebral, and terms like "personally revealing" and "self-lacerating" sound too self-indulgent/ un-controlled, neither of which conditions apply; I've not yet seen Rodney put himself in danger during a piece (which is good; I'm not interested in experiencing that). There's probably one right adjective out there ("raw" comes close, I guess), but it's eluding me: suffice it to say that DeCroo can take you inside very painful emotional experiences, which require a certain emotional fortitude of the audience. I've not yet felt the need for a safety net for a work of art, but it's interesting to know that there will be one (and a "moderated talkback" at the end of the night). 

Not entirely sure what to expect, ultimately, but In the Belly of the Carp seems like something not to be missed -- not exactly a concert, but something much more ambitious. There are four shows at the Shadbolt Centre Nov. 28th to Nov. 30 (with a matinee and an evening show on the 30th). Tickets here. See you there? 

Long pause?

I am tapped out. I did a big push to celebrate my 20th anniversary of writing this year, both here and in Vancouver papers, but I have exhausted myself and need a break. I donated a few fun things to the Straight on Bev Davies, Alex Maas, Grace Petrie, and Gustaf and direct you all to their website. I posted some vid of Gustaf (look it up if you like) and shot nothing of Grace, because Rogue Folk was videoing the whole night and they get dibs. One story: I gave Grace an Ivan Coyote book that someone else had given her already, because "apparently there's something about me that makes people think of Ivan Coyote," which was the funniest thing she said when NOT on stage. Hi to Graham Peat, nice to see you there, and we have to trade Election Night at the Rio stories sometime (Erika and I were there last time Trump won!!!). 

Thinking of giving up on non-paying writing in general, with MAYBE the occasional exception of this blog, but if I'm going to continue, I may (gasp) have to monetize it or something. 20 years without ads (and none of those unseemly bi-monthly Wikipedia Begging Campaigns) is a good enough run -- and I would say I have served my community, paid my dues, so, like, fuggit. I will still do paid pieces, and I DO have a couple unpaid stories I have promised out (don't worry, Andy), but generally, there's a Dils song that comes to mind when it comes to writing... we also might think of Grace Petrie's song, "You Pay Peanuts You Get Monkeys, You Pay Nothing You Get Nowt."

There was someone at the show tonight with Queer as Folk vinyl and I pouted at her that "I thought I was the only person here with Grace Petrie vinyl" and she laughed and felt happy, so that was nice. 

Black Angels -- go read it on the Straight, then go back and read the Bev piece, then read the Black Angels again, then the Bev again. That's how I'd do it, anyhow: they are interlocking and shed light on one another, kinda. 

Peace out! 

Richard Thompson, Bob Mould, and Mr. Chi Pig (and Grace Petrie)

Gay punk rockers came up more than I expected at tonight's Richard Thompson show, but there's nothing to be made of it, really -- it was just unexpected. First off, Thompson explicitly referenced Bob Mould's punk cover of "Turning of the Tide" and said that his band was going to do a punk-informed recreation of Mould's cover of Thompson's original acoustic song, which, he told us, is about young British men running around Hamburg (I'm assuming he meant the Beatles? I didn't know the song so I can't do justice to the lyrics). It was very much like what you see on Youtube from Colorado, a few days ago... except it was live. Seeing Richard Thompson live really is kind of essential; clips (and recordings) don't really do him justice, I've found (I still bought his Austin, Texas DVD off the merch table -- it's really a peak live set, by me).

Then later in the evening, even if this was surely just me thinking this, I was surprised to find my mind going straight to Mr. Chi Pig during "Beeswing," specifically the verse:

And they say her flower is faded now
Hard weather and hard booze
But maybe that's just the price you pay
For the chains you refuse

Fans of the song "Beeswing" should note that Grace Petrie, who performs in Vancouver on November 7th, has a cover of it; perhaps she'll do it? Petrie was by far my favourite "discovery" at the last folk festival (more on her to come; see also here), and she does have a debt to punk, but she's about 20 years younger than I am (and I guess maybe 40 years younger than Thompson), so our reference points are a bit different! (Billy Bragg is a common one, though, and Tom Robinson, and Thompson himself...). 

 (Photo by Dave Bowes)

Anyhow,  not much to say about the show, but I'm grateful to have seen Thompson again (this was my third time). The setlist is the same for all songs I'm seeing on the tour, (though I am not 100% of the last song because I couldn't make out the chorus and I don't know "Jealous Words," but I'm guessing with everything else being the same, so was that). In fact, as sometimes happens, there are songs on the new album, Ship to Shore -- Thompson, ever witty, took pains to emphasize that the last letter of the first word was P -- that I haven't yet connected with. Thompson has always been like that: some songs, some albums grab you powerfully (like "The Storm Won't Come," off the last album, on the merch table but not otherwise represented in the set), and some elude you, maybe waiting for you to take the time to read the lyric sheet or think about it in the right way. In that regard, Thompson is very helpful in his introductions, live; as tonight, for instance, in giving the audience a bit of a stage setting for "Al Bowlly's in Heaven," which really helped enrich what he was doing -- it's a song I had allowed to slide by me before. I'd simply never taken enough time with it, thinking on short exposure that it's about some past pop star (Thompson explained that Al Bowlly was a British equivalent to Bing Crosby); no, it's about an old soldier, crippled by war, who feels abandoned by his country, looking back on his life and feeling somewhat miserable; Bowlly is just a symbol of happier times). 

 That may be the problem with Ship to Shore, too, for me, I mean -- I don't know that I've heard the whole thing in its entirety more than once...Though one song he did from that album gripped both Erika and I, mind you: "The Old Pack Mule." He didn't much explain the lyrics to that -- if there was a specific person he was thinking of (we presume the mule is not actually a mule); it actually seems a compliment to "Al Bowlly's in Heaven," but from a very different point of view, like the old soldier in that song has died and his relatives are feuding over his meager estate ("how shall we carve him up?"). It's clear where Thompson's compassion lies but it's in no way versed by its narrator, you know? It's made vividly present by its sheer absence.  

There were also obvious crowd pleasers I remembered from the last show, like "Tear Stained Letter," with plenty of audience participation. The Mould "cover" -- kinda like the time Ray Davies introduced "You Really Got Me" as a Van Halen song, but really not too far off Thompson's original -- was one of those, catchy and easy to engage with, and the ever-present "52 Vincent Black Lightning," which I'd taken pains to introduce Erika to this morning, one of those songs that I am guessing is in every show he does, and for good reason... There were definitely songs that stood out more than others tonight, as in the case of Thompson's entire catalogue: showers and growers, you know? 

Doesn't matter, though: even if we didn't appreciate every song equally... all of them had guitar solos! And any Richard Thompson guitar solo is an adventure, especially when you're in the same room, watching his fingers fly around. It seems a bit unfair, in fact, given his skill, that he's playing a venue as mid-range as the Vogue -- but every seat seemed to be filled, and mostly the audience was respectful and attentive and cooperative about the edicts against photography and recording, as far as I could see (I saw one cell phone come out to take a picture near the end of the night; it wasn't mine). It's a bit surprising that the median age appeared to be about 60, since kids today usually have pretty good tastes, but... their loss, I guess, is our gain, seeing such an amazing musician in such a relatively intimate/ affordable context. It took me until my 40s for Thompson really to "click." Maybe he's just not for kids?

That's it, that's all I got. More to come this week -- but not hear. Check out Grace Petrie, you Richard Thompson people. I think the average age there is going to be more like 30, there -- and the audience will and should be 70% female, and maybe 60% queer, and maybe even a little bit punk (because she sure is, even if her music isn't) -- but don't worry, even if it's not your demographic, you'll dig her, too, I promise. If you like Richard Thompson (or Billy Bragg)... just be there... trust me...

Anyone want a bowling ball? Alienated 20th anniversary report

All photos this post EXCEPT THE LAST TWO  by Gord McCaw (thanks, Gord!); not to be reused without permission

The Minimalist Jug Band gets it. He brought, apropos of nothing, a bowling ball to the Alienated 20th anniversary gig, to put on the merch table. Later on, when I was reflecting on this, I theorized that maybe it was some sort of bat-and-ball "physical pun" but it was not: he'd found it and just thought it would be appropriate, since he had so much stuff already -- the washtub, the stick, some merch, and several pairs of pants -- to add to the burden and carry it too. It might have gotten a bit hidden on the merch table -- I used it as a structural element to prop up the 1894 mock-up cover -- and in fact people seemed to avoid the merch area, for the most part -- but no one even blinked or pointed at it; there was no "Why is that watermelon there?" moment, if you see what I mean. I confess that even I didn't think much about it at the time either. Then at the end of the night, when I was cleaning up the merch area, I was like, "Why did Al bring that bowling ball? Does he want it back?"

He was gone by that point, so I packed it home. It was, indeed, real heavy -- it's a full-sized bowling ball, not one of those junior-sized ones. I already had a bag of shirts and unused posters and my usual backpack and a bunch of other stuff to carry, but you can't just leave a bowling ball for Lana and Mark to wrangle. Luckily I had a ride home...  

...So now I have this bowling ball and it's really heavy and he doesn't want it back and I have to figure out what to do with it and it seems like a SYMBOL of something, like... what if Sisyphus was doing shift work? What if there was some guy he traded off with? I figured I'd check to see if Bert Man wanted it ("Do you bowl?") but he doesn't. I feel, in fact, weirdly flattered that Al would pass this ball onto me, but, I mean, that doesn't mean I have shelf space for it, you know? (Suddenly I have this image of myself standing in a doorway in a raincoat: "Psst, hey buddy, wanna buy a bowling ball?")

Anyhow, people said real nice things about me, and Gord McCaw took tons of photos, and I had fun "eeping" with David on a few versions of "If I Was a Bat" (including one brilliant one to the tune of "The Monster Mash" which I had never heard before; I had not even realized when setting up the gig that it was Bat Week!). I spent enough time serving as emcee and otherwise running about doing stuff that I didn't really get to be "in the audience" as I'd have liked, but still was delighted to hear a few of the deeper cuts off 1894, like "Not in Your Town," "No Orchestra Required," "Snog," "To Hell with the Past," and, indeed, a bat-themed rewrite of "Work, Drink, Fuck, Die" that had eeps for a chorus, which I almost missed (I'd been outside saying goodnight to Rowan Lipkovits -- and making sure he got the accordion safely to his car! -- so I had to sprint to the stage to join in). Pete Campbell seemed to be singularly cookin' on the guitar and Dave Dedrick was very deferential about sharing a mic...

Rachel -- the "Strob" in Coach StrobCam -- couldn't make it, but Greg "Coach" Kelly and Pete Campbell, who I introduced as "Coach Cam" but who referred to themselves as "Coach StrobCan't," after something David said at a previous gig Rachel was also not at -- did a few bang-up originals, and a new arrangement of their own version of "If I Was a Bat" (which is closer to my "original tune" than the David M. version but has clearly become its own thing, which was kind of delightful in its own right: they've made it their own, which gives me hope for its longevity; the more bats, the better. More about the history of that song here). I was very happy to hear "Hockey Sucks" again and get it on video, and -- here's a little behind-the-scenes tidbit for people -- earlier that day had found the Johnny Hanson Presents Puck Rock Volume 1 CD at a library sale, which, it turns out, PETE DID NOT HAVE (see track 20, here). So I gave it to him (I already have one). 

I must admit, Greg and Pete did a fine job without Rachel -- Greg's got a great voice! -- but I still sent her a Creature from the Black Lagoon and If I Was a Bat t-shirt, for Pete to give her when she's feelin' better. I believe I gave everyone who performed a bat shirt, but I might have missed Dave Dedrick? I might have to do another run, which I had not planned. Kent Lindsay needs one too... cost about $500 bucks to make them, all told, and I believe the only one I sold went to Enrico Renz, for his wife -- but, you know, I'd rather give away $500 in shirts than have $470 worth of them (and a bowling ball) left over at the end of the night! Plus Erika's parents got theirs, and her brother and a friend, and she and I got them, and... you know, no one got any MONEY for this gig, right? If you're wondering about the economics of it all, we had about fourteen paying customers and about fourteen playing musicians, which would mean maybe $20 per bandmember if there were no other expenses, but I'd also paid LanaLou's (they make most of their money on the bar and restaurant end so this was surprisingly doable) and spent $100 on advertising (and bought $150 of NO FUN stuff I did not already have). In the end, I pocketed what was left at the door and was only down about $550 bucks for the night! 

...but I'm not complaining: it was always planned thus, and if memory serves, we spent more than that on my wife's 50th birthday party the other year, and we didn't have a single musician perform (and a LOT more physical labour on my part, which it's best if I don't go into). There really was a marvelous cohesion to the bands that played. Enrico's solo guitar was maybe the outlier -- everyone else was doing songs -- but then Stephen Nikleva (and then Tania Gosgnach) joined him and we got a surprise treat of a few Red Herring songs, which were pushed further than I'd heard them pushed before: "Love Machine" lost that 80s new wave quality, seemed tougher than ever, plus there was "Taste Tests," the ever-beautiful "Julia," and Erika's request, "Consuela," which has yet to be released (the other songs are on bandcamp). 

Rowan -- who missed the start of the night, sadly, including Al's delightful "Dead Man's Pants," which Rowan's band The Creaking Planks are known to cover -- explained about the need to dig deep for surprising, fresh things to interpret on the accordion, after which he started his set with a Billy Eilish tune ("Bury a Friend"), then a Taylor Swift one. Both were great -- they are songs I don't know, because I follow no actually "popular" popular music, but you can't do songs like these on the accordion and NOT make them your own, you know? 

I had mentioned to everyone, in the run up to the gig, that any bat-themed covers people had in their repertoires would be welcome, so of course Rowan went to Sesame Street for that; and then we ended on the Creaking Planks kids-birthday-party NIN cover ("Closer") where it sounded, at one point, like Rowan accidentally sang, "I want to fuck you like a teddybear." That might have been just my mishearing (they usually sing "hug" for their version -- a hilarious, sanitized, kidspeak tune, with references to mudpies and Nintendos and lines like, "Help me, I think I got a boo boo") but even if I was mishearing, it put quite an image in my mind, so I guess if I got that wrong, I don't want to know. Apparently next year is the 20th anniversary of the Creaking Planks, so if there's ever going to be more live music from the band -- who are dispersed everywhere around the lower mainland, with the biggest concentration in Nanaimo, apparently-- next year will be when it will happen. In fact, I believe I was at their first-ever gig,  20 years ago, which corresponded with the first-ever Vancouver Zombiewalk, and which had zombie-themed songs, yoking Roky Erickson, the Cranberries, Fela Kuti, and... was there some Harry Belafonte in that set? Does Harry Belafonte sing about zombies? Or was I thinking of the Kingston Trio's "Zombie Jamboree?"

Interesting that this blog and the Creaking Planks have been around almost the same length of time... 

Anyhow, I think more video evidence will emerge sometime, but not as shot by me: my storage maxed out during Rowan's set and allowed me to put away my phone for awhile (the actual order of performers was Coach StrobCan't/ Minimalist Jug Band/ Rowan/ Enrico/ NO FUN, fyi). Thank you to everyone who played or came out! But in the end, I spent almost as much time onstage as I did in the audience, and it just wiped me out... I don't even remember what did Thursday night, but last night I was sitting at the Rickshaw and I could just feel my energy plummet, and contra my original plan to run back and forth between the Rickshaw and the Waldorf, found myself thinking, fuck, I've seen the BB Allin show, I've seen Kid Congo... I could be home in bed with my wife... why am I doing this to myself? There's a level below which, if you drop down that far, you just have to listen. I hit and passed that level before Kid Congo even took the stage...

I was still glad to have said hi to a few people (including Byron and Kristy-Lee of Dead Bob, bracing for a post-election US tour, and to Emilor, who I gave my second-to-last bat shirt). But in the end, I just went home. At least I didn't have to carry a bowling ball!

Actually, Al -- who I also shot a bit of video of, note -- gets the other funniest story of the night, too, which involved my song, "Bald Man with a Hat,"  which he covered as his first tune (I think it's the first time I've seen Al do a cover?). He stumbled on the lyrics and got, if you will, contagiously embarrassed onstage, but the thing he didn't realize was that, far from being, at first, touched and flattered by the gesture, and then disappointed when the gesture got flubbed, I was sitting in the audience not even recognizing my own song. At the start, I was, like, "Wait a second, Al is not remotely bald; why is he singing this?" (he did have a hat, at that point, but he has a very full head of hair under it). When he started referencing Doug Bennett, and how Doug used to tease his male audience members who were wearing hats by saying that men in bars with hats were bald underneath -- I was like, "Jeez, don't I have a song like this? This is a weird coincidence." But I wasn't clear until afterwards that it had been a cover of something I had actually written and sung myself -- I mean, who the hell uses the word "shnooks" in a lyric? (And I've never ever considered hair implants). It's not quite as, uh, weighty a thing as the bowling ball, but it still seems vaguely meaningful that Al was feeling bad to mess up lyrics I didn't even recognize were mine long afterwards. Ha!

Anyhow, that's it - the Alienated in Vancouver 20th anniversary gig report. I'm going to have to start "saving my bullets," as Ford Pier puts it -- there's a lot of music I want to see over the next couple of months, and a few articles I'm committed to doing, so I can't afford to waste time/ energy/ money on things that I am not really, truly enthusiastic for.

I am really, truly enthusiastic for Richard Thompson, tonight; Gustaf, next Tuesday; Grace Petrie, next Thursday; the Black Angels on Friday (one of two things I've given to the Straight on that deals with Bev Davies and her relationship with the band; they've also received an Alex Maas piece from me); BEAT on November 25th; and Dead Bob in mid-December. I'm told I should also check out Zeal and Ardor, playing the Rickshaw Dec. 10th, too... and then it sounds like there might be a NO FUN Christmas show, too!

That may be enough for the next couple of months. Right now, I'm going back to bed! Happy bloggerversary... Oh, yeah, ARGH!! was there... sounds like he might want that bowling ball for a Halloween costume... Here's Gord and ARGH!! at the ARGH!! table... my photo, not Gord's... I use lots of ellipses when writing about ARGH!!... he didn't sell much more merch than I did, but I bought a DOA colouring book... comes with crayons...

(Gord McCaw and ARGH!! as HST, by Allan MacInnis)

"Yorick," be Erika Lax

Hahaha... now all my friends are looking up Beast bowling balls and telling me it sells for big bucks. I wonder if Al new this? Now suddenly the thrift-store-scrounger takes over: maybe I can get some money for it? (Which I guess I should give to Al, huh?)