More news: Neon Waste reissues Siggy Magic

For some dumb reason or other, I have never watched Commercials for Free, at least not completely. Not sure why - saving something for a rainy day, maybe. It's an indy film shot in Vancouver in 1978, included on the deluxe version of the Bloodied But Unbowed set, and featuring footage of the Subhumans, so it's daft of me, or perverse, or perhaps deeply negligent to have missed it. The single of the same name, used on the soundtrack, by Siggy Magic & the Hey-Hoe band, is one of those crazy-expensive local rarities which, unlike, say, the Rude Norton 7", the No Exit album, and the Subhumans' own "Death to the Sickoids" 7", I have never even seen a copy of, let alone owned; this website lists it at $750 (and has some related downloads, which I assume I harm no one by pointing out, since anyone aware of this single is surely also aware it can be found on the internet somewhere; it is apparently also ripped here). Discogs says only 200 copies were made of the original. Not sure how many more Josh will be making but, anyhow, it's coming out again! Or is out already. Can you still buy it? I dunno.

By the way, I got a Chain Whip feature in the current issue of Germany's Ox Fanzine, who usually only want bands that they've heard about, but they liked the band's lean-mean hardcore enough that they said yes. So: cool! 

Generally I am enjoying being off the movies-and-music hamsterwheel for awhile, but, whatever, bands I like have things happening. The Judys have a new album out, too. I don't really know Dennis but I used to feel guilty about never doing anything about him. Maybe I will. But not right now.

New news for old punks: of David Lester and Joe Keithley

People might be interested that there is a short documentary about David Lester's work as a graphic novelist on the CBC website. David's best known as the guitarist for Mecca Normal, but I interviewed him about his 2011 graphic novel The Listener, which I found enjoyable and interesting. Anarchist perspectives on history don't come naturally to me, and I found it quite provocative - certainly the smartest graphic novel I've read. I've been kind of tempted to check out Lester's other work - on Emma Goldman, or the 1919 Winnipeg General Strike. Haven't yet, though.

Also, Joe Keithley has a new, "positive and responsible" anthem, "You Won't Stand Alone," about fighting racism, recorded with the Mayor of Burnaby, Mike Hurley, on bass. Mayor Hurley is the first person I've ever voted for to have played with a punk, I think (tho' I did once see Jack Layton and Joe on the same stage at an Iraq war protest. Noam Chomsky was there, too! Neither of them picked up an instrument, however).

Joe writes that "Burnaby Mayor Mike Hurley and I have teamed up to record a song about standing up to racial intolerance and promoting diversity, it's called 'You Won't Stand Alone.' Burnaby is one of Canada's most diverse communities and the Mayor and I believe that is a great strength. It's time that we as Canadians stand up to racism anywhere, anytime, any place."

I am glad I voted for these two, and it's cool to see Joe sort of transitioning into this kind of Pete Seeger sincerity (and mixing it up with his political career - that's pretty awesome). 

I mean, to be totally honest, DOA-wise, I kinda prefer "Let's Fuck" - it's funnier! But Joe prolly wouldn't appreciate my sayin' so. 

Target Number One: good film, bad title, plus why I like Josh Hartnett

I am predisposed to like Josh Hartnett, for a somewhat unusual reason.

Y'see, the school I was posted to when I taught in Japan wasn't altogether a good school. It was a suburban high school for working-class families, not unlike the high school that I went to in Maple Ridge. There were a lot of kids whose main focus was shop, soccer, and cigarettes, among whom a masochistic, macho aesthetic prevailed: it was not unusual to see boys with cigarette burns on their arms, inflicted by themselves in schoolyard pissing contests, for example. There were kids who were fascinated by gangs, drugs, and so forth: one kid scratched "Clips" into his desk, out of an apparent identification with, yes, the Crips. No idea what he got up to after school. Academic ambitions and hopes for getting into a good university were low, as were, generally, the English levels of the students; despite it being a senior high school, a lot of the kids couldn't get much further beyond the "How are you?"/ "I'm fine thank you, how are you" phase. With textbooks laid out with translation, memorization, and testing in mind, not conversation or mastery - which also reminded me of my old high school and its approach to French - and a rather uneven range of approaches from the teachers, there were plenty of excuses to give up on the language, to hate it, even. All the same, there was a handful of students who truly cared about interacting with me, who truly wanted to speak in English, for whatever reason, some of whom I remember quite vividly: Jungo, Shota, Satomi, and Mika. I have stayed in occasional touch with Jungo and Shota, the guys, but have no idea what Satomi and Mika are up to. It blows me away to think they're in their late 30's, now, possibly with families and careers and so forth. Every now and then, I think of looking them up - but I don't.

Anyhow, Mika, in particular, was a very cheerful, bright, and friendly girl, and is 100% the reason why I have a fondness for Josh Hartnett, because it was from her that I learned about Hartnett, who was his #1 schoolgirl crush. Even though he was right at the start of his career - his first film was in 1998, and I went over there in 1999 - she was following his work enthusiastically, and had written him (in less than perfect English, no doubt) a glowing fan letter: which he replied to, sending her a signed publicity photo and a personalized note - which she showed me one day in the language lab, beaming with teenage love for Hartnett. It was adorable, and it meant a lot to her that he'd written her back, and I've always thought he was a pretty good fella for giving her that connection to the outside world (which also no doubt encouraged her in her language learning!).

Since then, I've pretty much been open to seeing anything Harnett has done, and if there's only a couple of films of his I've really liked to now - The Faculty and 30 Days of Night - because of the Mika-association, he's one of those actors whose name on a cast list makes me pretty much predisposed to say "yes" to seeing it, even if it's not a film I would normally seek out on my own.

Which brings us to Target Number One - also being distributed as Most Wanted. Nevermind my Hartnett bias: it's a good movie, and in this COVID-inspired run of repertory fare hitting movie theatres, is one of only a small handful of first run features you have access to right now. There is a slight oddness to the experience of watching it, then trying to figure out what you've just seen - several questions come up, none of which I know the answer to. First and most significantly: why did they choose to fictionalize the story of Alain Olivier?

I mean, people LIKE true stories about scandalous true-life cases. Consider another Canadian-made film, The Hurricane, about the wrongful imprisonment and eventual liberation of boxer Ruben Hurricane Carter; under no circumstance would that film have been improved by creating a fictional version of Carter. So why does Alain Olivier become Daniel Legere in this film? The story seems to follow fairly closely to the Olivier case, insofar as I understand it, and was made with Olivier's apparent endorsement (it's mentioned on his website). It involves somewhat lazy and corrupt Canadian cops (led by Stephen McHattie!) who entrap and coerce a clueless young junkie, who ends up serving 100 years in a prison in Thailand for crimes far more sophisticated than he would have been able to pull off himself, until a crusading journalist (Hartnett) takes an interest in his story. As with Rendition, another well-meaning film of relatively recent memory, inspired by the stories of Khalil El-Masri and Maher Arar, the film changes the victim's name and details, while Victor Malarek, the journalist, is a real person (albeit one who looks very little like Josh Hartnett). Why swap out Olivier? I am sure there is a story here, but I haven't read anyone telling it (might be out there, tho').

Another question: why did they end up with such an awful title? (And you can pick either one - whether you think of it as Target Number One or Most Wanted, they're equally generic, lazy, boilerplate titles, suggesting, maybe, some direct-to-video late-period Steven Segal actioner. The film has an obvious, good title just begging to be used, too: Goliath, which evokes both the code name of the sting that sets the main character up, and the whole David-and-Goliath mythos, with the state as Goliath and Malarek as David. I would be much more drawn to Goliath as a title - it's enigmatic, memorable, original, and relevant. No one with a distinguishing palate is going to be sold on a title like Target Number One - it sounds like something to avoid, not embrace. Which is a shame, because it's mostly a pretty great little film; once its threads start to come together and you realize that it is, indeed, a "muckraking journalist" movie, it does seem to get a little generic, but it's at least a good muckraking journalist movie, and there's plenty of freshness to how it tells its story, and lots of solid turns by its cast (Jim Gaffigan is impressively demented at times, and Antoine Olivier-Pilon does a fine turn as the film's patsy.)

Patsy, that would have been another good title, or at least better than either that got chosen.

No blame if you're not ready to go back to the movie theatres. I'm not sure it was worth it - same as with the concert below, I will now spend the week second guessing myself, worried that maybe I have caught something (tho' I must say, Cineplex Scotiabank did a fine job of making sure the audience was spread out). But Erika and I enjoyed it plenty, and it made a fine follow up to a repertory matinee screening of Jaws that I caught earlier that day (for a mere five bucks!).

Showtimes for Target Number One here...

The Spiritual Warriors - positive energy and a great show

So we took the risk and went out to see live music for the third time since COVID restrictions started to ease. Didn't feel much like a risk, actually, unlike, say, any trip to the grocery store; I would say there were less than 30 people at LanaLou's last night, including the serving staff, the band and Mark and Norah and Pete Feend (who seemed to be there in some sorta work capacity unclear to me). I used a bit of our hand sanitizer on the table and the ledge where I rested my elbow, ate a superb pulled pork poutine (with the cheese on the side, which of course Erika dumped in HER poutine, as per the plan) and totally enjoyed myself, though it was a bit weird that some people wanted to shake hands (I discovered with Pete that my instincts to do this had vanished and after a few seconds of confusion and hesitation as to how our hands would fit together, we ended up chucking elbows instead). Fist-bumped with Leroy Joe, too. But the server wore a mask, and people were plentifully spread out, even for such a small venue; I don't *think* I'm going to come down with anything this week, but, you know, watch and see...

Of course, the high point was the music by the Spiritual Warriors, which included a couple of stomping "rez rockers" like "Celebrate" and "The Constitution Song," adapting a protest song rooted in an important moment in the early 80's. I hadn't heard, to my knowledge, a rez rocker before, and want to hear more! Daisy Joe - who told me when I asked her to sign a CD - had a stage name of "Warrior Bunny" and more charisma than anyone else in the room; she noticed that Erika had a powerful emotional reaction to "The Grandmother Song," which connected with her memories of her own late grandmother, and I was glad the two of them got to chat about it a little after the gig. That song was one of two - "Salish Seas" was the other - written by Russell Wallace, a (former?) member of the band who was absent last night, but who had people in the audience; like "Celebrate" and a few other tunes, those two were from their previous CD, recorded under another bandname, Kalan Wi. The Spiritual Warriors' new guitarist - didn't get his name and can't read his signature - fit in perfectly, even though it was clear from his between-song interactions that he didn't know a couple of the songs so well yet, including an amusing bit of banter with Mike the bassist, at the opposite end of the stage: "I guess I'll start this in A minor," he said, and Mike replied, "Okay, then I'll start in A," after which they had a little laugh between themselves. Leroy Joe, meanwhile - looking, to my surprise, a bit like Frank Black in his shades - was personable and friendly and played to a full house even though it was only about ten people in the audience (by the way, I didn't cadge a guestlisting and bought four CDs off them, one of which I hope to send to Kevin James Howes, who I think will like it a lot). The positive energy of reggae went perfectly with the lyrics, and Leroy was charming in his demeanor: we talked before the set about his trip to Japan in the late 90's, shortly before I went over there, playing soccer with a reservation team in Okinawa, which I'd love to know more about. I gave him some Japanese reggae, as per the interview previously posted. Overall, I found it a little weird that more people hadn't come out, considering how good the band is, but, like Bukowski observed once, some of the best restaurants are the ones that have no one in them; was sorry for the band, but selfishly loved how empty the place was - it was like that time I got to see Monsieur Hire in a fancy theatre that I was the only patron of. All the better for ME, especially in the age of COVID. 

Anyhow, I was far from the stage, but I did snap a few photos and shoot a little vid. Great night, and a really satisfying live show. Thanks to everyone at Lanalou's (I reserve the right to rescind that if I get sick). 

(Only shots I got of the drummer were outside with Norah!)

Photos by me...

The Spiritual Warriors: Live at Lanalou's

I have mixed feelings about the whole cultural appropriation foofaraw. On the one hand, I understand why marginalized groups are sensitive to people blithely and cavalierly misappropriating the symbols and styles of their culture, especially when it is done to trivial effect: Gwen Stefani adopting kitschy Hollywood "Indian princess" garb for a rock video or positioning herself amongst Japanese "Harajuku Girls" seem easy and deserving targets here. But on the other hand, my favourite reggae band, Dry & Heavy, are, in fact, Japanese, and the fact that they are not Jamaican or black actually is a big part of the pleasure I take in their music: they've borrowed a genre that is in no way native to Japan, but that they clearly love, and they're doing something great with it. I hope actual Rastafarians would welcome it, though I have no idea if they do. Another interesting example: for awhile, on Tzadik - John Zorn's avant-garde label that showcased a lot of Jewish and Japanese artists, among other things - there were various albums by Jewish musicians  borrowing aspects of dub and reggae for their own music. Check out Jamie Saft's Breadcrumb Sins or David Gould's Adonai in Dub (produced, if I recall, by Saft) for examples; as good as the music is, it's made even richer by the aspects of re-appropriation at work, since reggae musicians have for years appropriated aspects of Jewish culture, right down to the Old Testament roots of "Rivers of Babylon" or talk of Zion. The thought of Jews reclaiming this language while appropriating the music that has gone with it is quite pleasing to me, and seems, further, to make a case for appropriation being a natural aspect of human culture - maybe suggesting that the challenge isn't to stay confined to your own little cultural box, but to explore other boxes in a respectful, meaningful, and genuine way (Indian princess costumes still don't count!).

Enter the Spiritual Warriors: they're a BC-based band from the Lil'wat nation and, though they do play other styles of music, they also are, yep, a kickass reggae band. Maybe there's something about reggae that is just too welcoming and joyous and peaceful for it to be regarded as the property of any one culture or race? I don't know, but within a minute of hearing their song "Spiritual Warrior" on Youtube, I was writing Gabba Productions about the Spiritual Warriors show this Friday at Lanalou's (which will also be live streamed, starting at 7:30), and trying to frame interesting questions for their leader, Leroy Joe - even though I barely know Spiritual Warriors music. (You can hear it for yourself on their website, note).

Here is the interaction that followed.

I don't know everything you do - how much of your set is reggae? How did the band get into reggae? Do you also have an interest in Rastafarianism - or are you using the music of reggae to express your own beliefs and values...?

I guess most of the music with my band has reggae feel for sure, however, we do some rock and pop as well but mostly I like to call my music Native world music or Roots music. I am not into Rastafarianism but I do like what they do in regards to their music When I first started trying to write music with my language, it was definitely a reggae feel, and also it was about how the earth was dying and that we need to step up and protect her, that was in 1995-96 when I lived in Nelson and was really starting to listen to Bob Marley. Years later in 2007 I was able to play one of our traditional songs on guitar and it had the reggae feel, so this is what really started this music for me. I do write about our struggles as First Nations people and also the good things that’s we do as a people.

I gather your rhythm section [Mike Rowe, from Jamaica, on bass, Tim Lall, from Trinidad, on drums) is of Caribbean background - how did you connect with them? What do you make of the issue of cultural appropriation, when it comes to playing reggae? 

The band is always evolving, we have had so many players over the years and the rhythm section we have now are very consistent, they want to play and show up for gigs... they just so happen to be Jamaican and Trinidadian, and more importantly they are my bro’s, yes I met them through music. It’s funny how things just work out on their own, I like to think that we are sharing cultures and not cultural appropriation.

What are the U'cwalmicwts lyrics in "Spiritual Warrior?" (There are passages that seem like just chanting - but I wouldn't know if they meant something). Are most of your songs in U'cwalmicwts and English? Which did you grow up speaking?

The chant in "Spiritual Warrior" is just the same melody as the bass line, the bass line came first and then I just chanted along with it. Most of the lyrics are English except for one part which means “good creator“. When I wrote my first song it was with my language and English and I basically interpret the language with the English lyrics, I do have a couple with just my language, "The Fishing Song," "The Constitution Song," and from our first recording, "The Two Chord Round Dance."

I did grow up speaking both English and my language, but English is my first language and I had to relearn and am still learning my language.

Set me right here - I'm confused by the different terms Lillooet, Lil'wat, and St'at'imc, especially since (if I'm reading right) none of them were actually the name your people traditionally had for themselves. So is there one you prefer? I gather Inuit people didn't care for the meaning of the word "Eskimo."
My people here in the southern part of our territory are called lower St’at’imc and Lil’wat is the name of our area, in the nation of St’at’imc there are 11 communities, Pavilion the most northern and Tipella the most South, Tipella is located on the west end of Harrison Lake and Pavillion is west of Cache creek. The word St’at’emcets is actually means the language of the St’at’imc people. Quite frankly I have not thought about the word St’at’imc and it’s meaning. I just know I’m a St’at’imc from Lil’wat ( leel-wat). My grandfather told me that some non native people where looking for Lil’wat long time ago and they ended up in that area that is called Lillooet now and they thought they were in Lil’wat, they couldn’t pronounce Lil’wat so they called it Lillooet. I’m sure there are other stories out there but I’m sticking to what my grandfather told me.

Is there a particular demographic you usually play to ? Who do you most want to reach with your music? Do you see yourselves as ambassadors of First Nations music to the wider world, or are you also interested in connecting with First Nations?

We play to so many different crowds over the years and I find that most people enjoy what we bring, they say it lifts their spirits. I do find the festival crowds really enjoy our music. I like to think that I and my daughter are ambassadors for First Nations people we are out there sharing our culture and history and try to make it a positive experience, some of the most rewarding shows we have done are at various First Nations and public schools in BC, the children danced and sang with us. One day, hopefully I’m the next 2-3 years we will tour the works and share our music to the wider audience for sure.

Do you play a lot of shows on reserves? How are you received? (I have no idea about the "musical culture" on reservations - I assume there's plenty of music, but the form it takes... I don't know!).

We have played mostly in our communities and have been well received for sure, I mean a lot of the songs I write are in the language and the chanting is the style of how we sing traditionally. Our people are very proud of us for what we have done, winning the two awards and been recognized for those efforts, it makes our people feel good because they have a connection with us personally, my family has relatives in almost every community in our nation. I grew up listening to live music on the Rez, mostly Rez rock and in my family, my grandfather, uncles and cousins all play guitar or bass and drums. It’s a long history and one day I want to do a documentary on it because a couple of the older bands are legends in BC Rez rock and beyond. I cut my teeth playing rock n blues at various house parties and Rez shows for 15-20 years before I started my reggae groups.

Have you followed the revival of interest in people like Willie Thrasher, in the wake of the Native North America series? Has it affected your band? Do you have any First Nations musical heroes...? (Any non-First Nations musical heroes you want to acknowledge?).
I met Willie back in 1991 up in Chisasibi, James Bay northern Quebec, he was amazing and I remember how proud I felt and he really inspired me, also on that record is a musician from Lil’wat, Gordon Dick and he is one of my hero’s, that guy can play a guitar back in the day. I do have many inspirations including non native musicians, too many to name, I like all kinds of music from jazz to bluegrass and I like to play all genres, right now I’m in a cool band playing my original music and this is my dream.

Were you surprised to receive the "Best World Recording" award at the Native American Music Awards? (Did you perform there?). Anything you want to say about that experience...?

When we submitted for the NAMA,s I was hoping to get a nomination, we got four nominates and also I got four with the other project I submitted, that was called the Kindness Campaign and I wrote and produced the music for it, so ya it was a real honour to win The best world and the best historical with the other project. My daughter was in both projects as well. We did not perform, however we did get to go on stage and sing with two of my native hero’s, Keith Sicola and Wes Studi. The experience was amazing, just like the first time we won an award there in 2013 with our debut recording, when we where called Kalam Wi. Award shows are so much fun and especially to be there with family made even more special.

Does your daughter have other musical projects or bands? She's got stage presence!
I’m so proud of my baby, she’s seen a lot and experienced so much in her little life, she started singing with us in 2013 after our original female lead left the group, Daisy was 14 years old at that time, she has done so well and has really grown as a performer and musician. She does write her own songs and goes by Warrior Bunny for her stage name, like I said I’m living my dream.

Anything you want to say about the album Ancestors, or the show at Lanalou's?

I really am proud of this recording, Daisy is on it, my friends are on it, my wife and I paid for the project with our own money and it was not cheap, she’s our biggest fan and supporter and she plays a big role on the outside , I’m so grateful for her help and support she’s basically my manager but not the band's lol. I’m also grateful for LanaLous and Gabba productions for having us and I really hope people show up or stream the show online, I think it’s going to be a fun night regardless who shows up, we will show up and put on a Roots Rez Reggae Rock show.

Thank you very much and I hope this will suffice.

Peace out,

Leroy

For more information, see the Facebook event page here!

RIP Mr. Chi Pig

Back in the early 1990's, one of the local punks I'd see in Maple Ridge, Darien - that's how I always spelled his name in my mind; not sure it's correct - used to urge me to come see SNFU with him, but I never went. I knew their rep as this amazing live act, but Darien's invites came at a time when I was listening mostly to free jazz, John Zorn, the Lounge Lizards, and exceptionally weird stuff like Trout Mask Replica or Pere Ubu. And to tell the truth, as someone who, as a teen, had pored over the lyrics of the Dead Kennedys, DOA, the Subhumans, and Crass, hungry for intellectual stimulation and political direction - which were always more important a draw to punk, for my younger self, than the music - that first SNFU LP, the only one I'd owned at that point, actually hadn't grabbed me as hard as I had wanted it to, when it first arrived at Collector's RPM in its second state cover, back in 1985. I had previously heard and loved "Victims of the Womanizer" - a song on a BYO comp released in 1984 that took aim at toxic masculinity at a time when it was extremely rare to do so - but songs like "Cannibal Cafe" seemed kind of silly by comparison (I love it now, of course - but I was a much more serious, maybe a much more confused, guy back then). So not only didn't I go see SNFU back in the day, I didn't buy any of their other albums, either, until years later: I think my second SNFU album ever purchased was In the Meantime and In-Between Time. By the time I caught them live, the Belke brothers were both gone, so my introduction to SNFU shows was with Goony, Willy Jak, and Jon Card as Chi's backup, back in the days when Chi was busing tables at the Cobalt. So I never got to see SNFU or Mr. Chi Pig in his prime, taking massive leaps, hanging from rafters, belting hotdogs into the audience with tennis rackets, or other such legendary shenanigans (tho' I was in the audience at Funkys when he emptied a bag of puffed wheat on us, so there's that). Considering how potent a frontman he still was - and how amazing a singer - when I finally started seeing him, I have always  regretted that I never saw him in the '90's, any of the dozens of times I was invited to do so.

You were SO right, Darien, and I was so wrong.

Rest well, Chi.

The Hunt redux! Plus welcome back, movie theatres!

So movie theatres are re-opening, but it looks like no one wants to put out a major blockbuster type film in the midst of a pandemic, which means that - like the Twilight Drive-In started doing a few months ago - the cinemas that are re-opening are playing mostly tried-and-true films, including a buncha borin' superhero shit and some Spielbergs (the only one of which I am excited to see theatrically is Jaws, but I basically approve of any Spielberg films that truck in overt, honest misanthropy and/or have things with teeth eating people. Note: I specify "overt/ honest" to exclude Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan, which are both extremely nasty film experiences that masquerade as something else. I think Spielberg's most honest filmmaking is in Jaws, where you get these disgusted shots of bad beach bodies and wait eagerly for one of them to get bitten). But one of the recent films that is playing is one that had a heartbreaking release - held back from its initial run in September 2019 because of one violent tragedy to have its rollout in March fucked over by COVID-19. That's The Hunt, which so far stands as my favourite movie of 2020 (not that I've seen many!). I previously wrote about it here; the showtimes are here. (Knives Out and The Invisible Man are also worth catching, and probably my second-and-third favourite films of 2020, btw). The Hunt is bloody, smart, funny, politically relevant and plays some delightful little games with the audience - the less you know of which, the better. Go and be surprised. 

Yes, the blu-ray is also out there, but better if you can see it theatrically, no? And, like, Macon Blair is in it (only briefly, but it's a memorable scene!). 

Good luck, The Hunt. May you find your audience yet. 

In which I dream of Peter Stampfel

There are few living American musicians whose body of work I revere more than Peter Stampfel, of the Fugs, Holy Modal Rounders, Bottlecaps, and lately a host of bands, from the Velocity Rounders to the Atomic Meta-Pagans to the Worm All-Stars to the Deposit Returners to the Ether Frolic Mob (most of which are sorta technically backing bands, as in Peter Stampfel and..., and some of which feature his daughter Zoe). If I had free tickets to see Bob Dylan, but could pay $100 to see Peter Stampfel across the street the same night, I would pay the $100 to see Peter Stampfel - that's how much I revere him (though in a somewhat irreverent, casual way, but damn does his music bring me joy, you know?). I think I would also (shh) choose Stampfel over Eugene Chadbourne, though part of that is because I have never seen Stampfel and have seen Eugene a dozen or more times. Though I suspect I will in fact never see him perform live, I had the great privilege of interviewing him at some length and have occasionally interacted with him since, and am in the process of catching up on his discography, since it turns out he's been rather crazily productive since that interview, putting out a dozen or more albums since the last one I bought off him (Dook of the Beatniks, from 2009), and collaborating with everyone from Jeffrey Lewis (naturally) to Shelley Hirsch (!!!). You can read about some of these albums on Robert Christgau's site, where it becomes quickly evident that Christgau is a fan of the Rounders and Stampfel too; or you can order the most recent of Stampfel's solo records via Don Giovanni Records, like this one:

Anyhoo, I dreamed of Peter Stampfel last night. I was (in the dream) at a house party in Seattle where Peter was performing. It was very casual - a large living room with a small, relaxed crowd of people. To everyone's surprise, Peter rode in on a horse - a white one - wearing cavalry gear and maybe brandishing a sword, while performing Johnny Cash's "Big River" (which is actually in Peter's repertoire, though the horse-uniform-and-sword stuff is not). This part I mostly emailed to Peter on waking, since I thought it might amuse him; but I didn't tell him the whole dream - that I spent most of the concert distracted by my cell phone, really, really wanting to make a Youtube video of his set but not being able to find the "video" function, because my phone had been updated and everything was messed up; or that after the concert, I bought some records from him, but as I was walking away down the alley behind the building - explaining to a homeless person about Going Nowhere Fast - I realized that I had forgotten to ask Peter to sign my records. That was imperative, so I ran back to the building, got inside, but - before finding Peter, decided I really needed to pee. I went to an elaborately decorated, expansive, kinda like Elizabethan-or-something bathroom and began peeing in the first receptacle that I could, which, alas, turned out to be a small, half-filled, decorative antique bathtub. Why there was water in the bathtub I could not say, but as I stood with a vaulting arch of urine splashing into it, I realized I was probably going to have to find a way to drain the water out of the tub, so no one, like, bathed in my pee. This, alas, would be contemplated by the lack of a drain in the tub - I was going to have to pour it out manually, somehow, and this was going to delay my quest to get my albums signed.

Then I woke up, needing to urinate. I hope Peter Stampfel is still writing his memoirs and that he's included a hilarious anecdote about an enormous booger he had hanging out of his nose at one point, which he posted on Facebook, asking us to support him against his wife's opinion that the story was in bad taste. It was funny! Then again, I just posted about a pee dream.

You can stream the whole, crazed cornucopia of The Ordovician Era here.

WTF: Samsung worldwide blu-ray player crash?

(Updates below).

Okay, so on Thursday around 7pm, I was halfway through watching a blu-ray. Machine - a Samsung Home Theatre J4500 - was working just fine. Then I stopped the movie, did something else, and came back to it around 7:30 - and it was screwed, going through an endless cycle of stops and starts, so that as soon as you powered it on, you could barely get the screen to stay stable, as it immediately started going from the home screen to seeming to select the "photos"option to powering down to returning to the home screen in an endless manic loop, each screen lingering for less than a second. Turning it on and off didn't work. Tried unplugging it, attempted a hard restart (which I couldn't even make happen, as it cycled from screen to screen): the machine seemed to be busted.

I took this for an isolated incident and tried to get a sense of what my options were. I didn't want to have to buy a whole new home theatre system, since, you know, the speakers are all fine and in place. Spent this afternoon making inquiries of Samsung Canada and London Drugs (where Erika and I bought the system, a few years ago). Some suggestions, nothing very exciting.

So I looked online and soon discovered that on Thursday night, my time, apparently all over the world, Samsung players all went on the fritz in exactly the same way. The discussions I've found are most prevalent in the UK, but there are similar reports from Germany, the United States, Brazil, Toronto... a vast number, if not all, Samsung blu-ray players have gone crazy in the same way at the same time.

People are speculating that it's the result of a some sort of update or patch from Samsung that has had unintended effects. I have no idea. Can there be viruses that do this? Some sort of industrial sabotage, maybe from, say, North Korea? I don't understand these matters enough to do anything but speculate.  What's most interesting is that the Samsung Canada rep I spent half an hour on the phone with earlier today apparently hadn't heard about this yet.

So hey, folks - is your Samsung blu-ray player on the fritz? Is it on the fritz in the way described above? Welcome to the club. There is apparently a Change.org petition to pressure Samsung into taking action. I have no idea if that's necessary, but it's definitely one way to make sure Samsung knows that there's a problem, here. (They have said that they're investigating, apparently).

I guess it's all for the better I haven't been using streaming sites very much lately, since it may be awhile until I can watch my blu's and DVD's again!

One week later: update: 

So I've now written customer service, who didn't let on there was a global problem (though I mentioned it, linking to one of the tech news articles about this crash). With no help there - they just suggested I get it repaired - and no updates on any of the sites I've seen, I called the main Samsung 1-800 line and had a chat with a support person, who sounded maybe like she was in a call center in Mexico. I said at first that I was "one of the people affected by the Samsung blu-ray player crash," and she said she didn't know what I meant; I then explained the symptoms and she told me that, ah yes, she was aware of this problem. (I'm not sure if she had been being coy or thick). After several minutes of delay (where presumably the troubleshooter was going over the script to use), she told me that Samsung was aware of the problem and working on it, that there was no timeline for a fix, and that no one knew what had gone wrong, none of which is new or informative.

End of week one without a blu-ray player. Erika and I are streaming The Man in the High Castle.  Should keep us going for awhile. I frankly would be surprised if Samsung actually took action - they're no longer making blu-ray players, so there is no real motivation for them to do anything, except, of course, the suspicion this failure will cast on EVERY OTHER SAMSUNG PRODUCT. I will wait another week or so, then start looking at my other options...

Weeks later still: update #2:

Well, that was unexpected. Took a long time on the phone, but Samsung APPEARS to be doing the right thing - I'm being told to package my player and send it in for free of charge repairs. Haven't gotten it back, haven't even got it packed off, but it's somewhat promising. I kinda expected they'd just blow it off, but I guess the loss to their brand image would have been greater than the cost of repairing players. Anyhow, tentatively optimistic!

Incidentally, I got tired of The Man in the High Castle in Season 2 - it got thin on ideas and big on domestic drama for a bit - but it's really growing on me for Season 3. Optimistic about season 4, too.

Weeks later still: update #3. They sent it back! It works! They actually fixed it! I am impressed. Good job, Samsung! 

RIP Aunt Jemima

I was making pancakes recently and wondering about Aunt Jemima.

I have fond brand recognition for Aunt Jemima - it's a product that has been around since my childhood. My parents were more likely to buy the syrup and make pancakes from scratch, but I vividly recall her smiling face on the bottle from back when, kinda like the Quaker Oats fella (same company, by the by). I actually recall being troubled by it, confused by it as a child, though I'm not quite sure I could put my finger on why it was disturbing to me back then.

As a married adult, I generally prefer healthier pancake mixes - Coyote, say - but for Erika, Aunt Jemima pancakes have a comfort-food status, so we've been buying them occasionally. Like I say, I was making some for breakfast last week, while in America people were rioting about systematic racism, and wondering about the brand. How has it gotten a free pass?

I mean, Aunt Jemima looks like she might be a slave. A happy, servile one - a positive image, I guess,  if you are a member of the "owner" class, but one that serves as a reminder for most people not only that once in America people owned other people, and had a pretty definite idea what a "good slave" might look like: basically, as far as women are concerned, Aunt Jemima was it.

I figured that maybe there was some history I was unaware of that explained the continued existence of the brand. I mean, I had no idea who the actual person on the pancake box was. I sometimes have an all-purpose Caribbean spice mix on the shelf with the brand Auntie Bev's, and I'm pretty sure I've met the actual Auntie Bev at a Caribbean festival in Maple Ridge, selling her stuff; but I doubted very much that the woman on the box (or bottle) of Aunt Jemima's was, for instance, a businesswoman who came up with a good pancake mix and marketed it. Maybe there was some other excuse for the brand's persistence?

Turns out, no. The history of the character goes back to minstrel shows. The Wiki suggests that the original Aunt Jemima character - not associated with pancakes at the time - may even have been a white man in blackface (!). Even the first actress to play her and lend her face to the brand, Nancy Green, was born into slavery. So there's good reason to view Aunt Jemima exactly as she seems: a racist caricature of an acclimatized, happy slave.

Of course, I read this morning that after 130 years, the brand is finally being retired. Erika and I had a fast pancake breakfast in her honour. 

Since Quaker Oats likes to use faces on its products, apparently - I wonder who Aunt Jemima's replacement will be? Will Quaker Oats replace it with a less fraught image of happy servility, like housekeeper Alice from The Brady Bunch, perhaps? That image still speaks of a time - the one we live in, as a matter of fact - when some people have so much wealth they can hire others to do the cooking for them, while other people have so little wealth they might gladly take this job, and find a way to be happy in it. Maybe they would be wise to avoid any class implications, and find a face and name not in any way associated with actual kitchen help...?

Well past time for a re-brand, in any case. Reading about this this morning, I discover there is an actual book on the topic: Slave in a Box: The Strange Career of Aunt Jemima. Or you can just go read the Wikipedia page.
\
RIP, Aunt Jemima.

Something Something Ostrich: a strange time to be alive

Fauci is quoted somewhere in a headline today observing that people keep saying a second wave is coming while we're still in the first wave... At the same time, almost, as Trump is saying that the increased number of cases is due to an increased amount of testing.

A friend put a comment about that on Facebook - does that mean that if I throw away my bathroom scale, I can eat all the pasta I want? - and was horrified to discover that it drew comments of its own from a FB friend who, apparently, was a previously closeted Trump supporter.

I do not have any love for the man, but dear God, people mocking him for implying that all we have to do is stop testing and the number of cases will go down... he didn't actually MEAN that, did he? People are being unfair here, RIGHT? Please tell me he really isn't THAT stupid, people are just being uncharitable in their interpretations...?

Just now I read a bit of a credible article someone had on Facebook on how Trump might win the next election in the States. Four more years of this? Some people really want that?

(I'm not going to even get into the part about the riots and so forth. Keep that border closed, please, folks!)

Meanwhile, the playground outside my window that for two months was roped off has reopened and is full of kids by day... there are school announcements and children's voices in the playground and the sounds of basketballs bouncing off pavement, while I still work at home during the day because my workplace (also a school, and not for young children) has deemed it unsafe to reopen at capacity just yet.

There's a certain amount of cognitive dissonance created by such things.

And yet, there I am, too - back out in the world, poking about thrift stores that are opened, shopping at record stores... my wife and I have eaten out half a dozen times - like, not on a park bench but inside restaurants... The mall is open again, even though the world is not markedly safer than when it was shut. Sometimes I put a mask on, but more to protect other people, in case I have it, than myself, because I don't think my mask WILL protect me much.

But, like, there's still a virus out there, folks. It's not under control. We may be a bit better prepared to handle it, but... the easing of restrictions does not mean that everything is safe again, you realize?

Like, I feel the strong desire to be back to normal too, but also a fear that that's partially about denial. And the desire for the comforts it affords: something something ostrich. (What was it wendythirteen said on FB - something about "fecal ostriches?" But all in caps, of course). (Wait, no, I remember now, it was "rectal ostriches").

Speaking of Wendy, Mr. Chi Pig was briefly back in the ICU, I gather, by the way. Seems to have stabilized, but no visitors, because COVID.

I see there's a petition that Mo put online pressing the government to allow venues to reopen for concerts. I sure do miss shows at the Rickshaw, but cue the eternal voice of Sir Laurence Olivier in my head: "Is it safe?" I actually am hesitating.

Then on the other hand, I know that there's a show (somewhere - pardon me if I don't say where) this Friday. I might go. I am not mentioning the what or where of it lest it get anyone in trouble, but even without this consideration, I would be tempted to not say or do anything to get other people to go to it, because, for once, I WANT the crowd to be really, really small for this show. (Sorry, gang!). If it's small, it's safe to go, right?

It's a confusing time to be alive.

Tales from the Cave Part Two now online

The Cave sounds like it was a pretty cool venue. Never went there myself, but I've collected stories from people who played the Cave for two features from Montecristo now. Here's part one, and here's part two! Thanks to everyone who contributed (but especially bev davies, Rob Frith and Aaron Chapman).

Scratching a TAD itch: Who the hell was Dick Johnson, anyway?

I interviewed Tad Doyle, of my all-time favourite grunge band TAD, a few years ago for a German magazine; the English version of that article eventually ran on my blog. I knew from the outset that Tad was more interested in talking about Brothers of the Sonic Cloth, so I didn't try very hard to come up with good TAD questions - most of which probably would have been answered in the course of the fairly authoritative Tad documentary, anyhow, or in books like Grunge Is Dead. But if Tad had wanted to talk TAD, I would have surely come around to the question: Who the hell was Dick Johnson, anyway? (And why can't I find his book?) 

Understand, I have heard about Dick Johnson in a few places - for example, on the back of TAD's 1989 opus God's Balls, which I have owned in the original a couple of times, and actually presently have three versions of (original LP, the reissued/ remastered LP, and the shortened version on the original pressing of the Salt Lick CD). Flip over to the back cover of that first pressing and read it with me:

I can't track down every reference to Dick Johnson I've heard, but I can say for sure that that was the first: "This record is lovingly dedicated to convicted felon Dick Johnson." And then there's also this fantastic Pussy Galore song, off my first and still-favourite, Pussy Galore album, 1989's Dial M. for Motherfucker, called "Dick Johnson," Whatta song! Whoever this Dick Johnson guy was, he must be pretty impressive to be the chorus of a song that rocks THAT hard, on an album that looks like THIS:

I also had read, back in the late '80's/ early '90's (but before Nevermind broke and ruined it all for me) mention elsewhere about a suppressed book, called something like, Let's Blow Up the Heads of Today's Youth, that was what had gotten Johnson in legal trouble. Someone else I was heavily into back in 1989 - was it on a Sonic Youth lyric sheet, an issue of Forced Exposure, or some other TAD or Sub/Pop related project that I no longer have kicking around? - had quoted from the book, riffing, I gather, on something Dragnet-related, saying "Marijuana is the flame. LSD is the fuse. Heroin is the bomb." Or something like that. There may have even been mention of a Dick Johnson Legal Defense Fund on someone's album somewhere.

But as notorious as Dick Johnson apparently was, at no point in my life have I ever been able to FIND A COPY OF THAT BOOK. And, I mean, I'm pretty good at finding books. I've owned everything from Cormac McCarthy first editions, some worth hundreds of dollars, to signed Patricia Highsmith - or signed Allen Ginsberg, William Burroughs, Paul Bowles, and Charles Bukowski, if you prefer. Even semi-suppressed books like Klaus Kinski's grotesque, rapey memoir, All I Need is Love, or, for instance, Mindfuckers (AKA Mindfucters), a hard to find book about Charles Manson, Mel Lyman, and "the rise of acid fascism" have graced my shelves at various points. Eventually I sold all of that stuff off (or, in the case of Mindfuckers, traded it for a Monkey Warfare "I fuck the man" t-shirt from Reg Harkema, who was doing Manson research for Leslie My Name is Evil.)  I wonder if Lemmy ever saw the cover of this book?

But if Dick Johnson ever actually published a book about blowing up the heads of today's youth with drugs, I have never seen it, never been able to find it on eBay, on Abebooks, etc. Occasionally, during those odd nights when I find myself awakened at 3am, and decide to burn off excess brain-energy online before going back to bed at 6am, it's the sort of thing I search for information about. I mean, that's what the internet is for, right? - scratching old itches at 3:30 in the morning?  I did a search of Abebooks and Google the other night, in exactly those circumstances, and the only reference to this particular Dick Johnson that I could find was a Pussy Galore interview, where Bob Bert (who also drummed on Sonic Youth's Bad Moon Rising) explains:

Pussy Galore did a tour of the west coast with Tad from Seattle opening on what was their very first tour. They had a friend come along whose job was to find pot in every town and his name was Dick Johnson. I think Jon got a kick out of the fact that his first and last name were both names for a penis. That song is musically based around Neil's killer guitar riff.

That's it, though. No legal defense, no mention of a suppressed book, so... what the fuck?

I wrote Tad. Tad, who still I guess doesn't want to talk about TAD, told his web manager or someone to write me back and put me in touch with Kurt Danielson, former TAD bassist, who could give a fuller answer than he could. There was a tiny bit of back and forth, and then suddenly Kurt was filling in the blanks for me.

Kurt Danielson, 2019, by Alma Saucedo-Valadez

Here is what Kurt wrote back!

Hi Allan,

Well, it's a rather long story, but I'll condense it down into its essential elements. Dick Johnson - aka Rich Johnson - is my former brother in law. He used to be our Squee Master on tour; that is, he was in charge of scoring weed in every town along our tour itinerary. During our first ever tour, with Pussy Galore, Jon Spencer met Dick and admired his name so much that he wrote a song about him, as you know. To build on the myth that was quickly coalescing around the mysterious persona of Dick Johnson, we created a fictional identity for him, including a controversial and transgressive book, and we perpetuated this myth in the Busted Circuits and Ringing Ears documentary, claiming that this non-existent book had landed him in legal difficulty and that all the proceeds from the sale of the DVD would go to his legal defense fund. In reality, Rich is an English teacher and a father, and he has no legal problems stemming from said book, because it doesn't exist.

I'm sorry if the reality of the situation disappoints you, but we simply couldn't resist the impulse to weave a myth around our friend, who is a good-natured fellow, and I appreciate your interest. Many people have wondered about this mysterious book, but you are the only one to have actually formally inquired about it. You deserve kudos for asking, because it was a joke that was meant to provoke discussion, and yet little real discussion occurred at the time the DVD came out, and that surprised us. I'm pleased that someone finally thought enough about it to ask.

As for what I'm up to musically, I play bass in several bands, including Mythological Horses, which worked with Tad as the engineer, producer and mastering engineer on our last record (YYYMF). We'll be working with Tad again for the next record. Another band I play with, Purple Strange (which features Jack Endino, Ron Rudzitis, Matt Vandenberghe and Jared Stroud in addition to myself) just finished a new record that will be available soon (produced, engineered and mastered by Jack and recorded at Strange Earth Studios). Ron and I have another band called Vaporland, which has a CD out already (also on Strange Earth). We're planning another for the near future, and we plan to work with Tad on that one. I also play bass on records by Sky Cries Mary (Thieves and Sirens, produced by Jack) and Nerd Table (Nerd Table vs The Galactic Turkey, mastered by Tad). Those records are out there, on the net, if you can find them.

Cheers, and thanks again for your interest,

Kurt

Note, Kurt: I'm far from disappointed to discover that this book never existed! I'm totally amused that I have probably, since 1989, devoted at least three hours of my life trying to find it (usually in fifteen minute segments on Abebooks and eBay). And now I learn not only that this is not about my failure to locate a rarity, but that I'm the first person to actually pursue the question!

BTW, if I have this right, Kurt isn't on this Mythological Horses song, but it has a pretty great little rock video. Check it out!

A spring trip to Pitt Lake

Erika and I took a drive this afternoon out towards Pitt Lake. We didn't quite get there - the last leg of the road was fenced off - but we found an access to dykes around Widgeon Marsh. I don't really have anything to say of moment, but we did get some very nice photos of our day. Here are the best of them.

A new profile pic

America is exhausting

I want to write something topical and relevant about what has been going on in the US (or teach a discussion skills class again where we can talk about "Cop Killer"). But I just don't have it in me. I feel like I have to say something, but... errrgh...

People sometimes try to characterize what living here above the United States is like - the most common variant is that it's like having a nice apartment above a meth lab - but it's more tiring than that, because,  you know, there are things about the 'States (and plenty of Americans) that I love! I want to see them get through their problems and find a better way, I really do. But every school shooting, every black man shot and killed for some minor infraction...

I mean, re: George Floyd, you know why the officer was kneeling on his neck, right? (Beside being a racist piece of shit, I mean). Floyd had tried to buy something with a bad $20 bill.  Here's the thing, though: *I* have tried (unknowingly) to pass a counterfeit bill - a bad ten dollar bill I was given in change at a 7-11 on Granville Street, which I tried, a few days later, to buy a slice of pizza with, not having noticed - as I am sure is the case with the 7-11 clerk, too - that the colours and details were a bit off. No one kneeled on my fuckin' neck for it - hell, the clerk at the pizza place even gave me the bill back, so I could use it my ESL classes as a warning to students. I still even might have it around somewhere (with the word "counterfeit" written across it in red pen, so no one mistakes it for real).

So, I mean, yes, right, black lives matter. It actually, truly needs saying, I guess. Seems like it shouldn't. Seems like it should be, like, "the earth is round" or "gun control is a good idea," or other kinda strangely contentious issues of the contemporary world. Seems like, actually, WE SHOULD BE BEYOND THIS RIGHT NOW, or, well, sorry folks, but America, it seems like YOU should be beyond this now, doesn't it? I mean, what, the LA riots were in 1992, right? (And say what you will about the Rodney King beating - at least they didn't KILL him!).

I mean, yes, I know, First Nations, Canada, etc. We're fucked up up here, too, I don't deny it. But, you know, I can recall two shooting rampages in Canada - one that ISIS-wannabe guy who had previously tried to rob a McDonald's with a stick, and this thing in Nova Scotia. There have probably been others, but there are none in my recent memory, which is quite different from the USA, where you just sort of give up trying to keep count. Another school shooting? Another black man killed by cops for some minor infraction?

And, you know, yes, Chantel Moore. Or Colten Boushie, or Jon Styres, or... It happens here, and if you want to say it's an aberration, then pick a story about white people wanting to build pipelines or flood or mine or log First Nations land. You have a range to choose from, from the Tsilhqot'in versus Taseko mines to the unresolved, ongoing struggles at Unist'ot'en camp to Site C damn to the Trans-Mountain pipeline to... It's all, undeniably, business as usual here in Canada -  we have our own stories, our own racism, our own inequities. How does Matthew 7:5 go again? I get it.

But it's just not the same degree of intensity that you see down south, the same degree of outrage. I mean, we riot here over fucking HOCKEY games, folks. As grotesque and trivial as that is, this week I've been thinking fondly about it. How luxurious, how charming, how sweet to live in a country that riots over fucking hockey, like we have nothing more serious to get upset about. Maybe it's just the plank in my eye, but it just seems worse in the United States - doesn't it? And it seems like THEY SHOULD KNOW BETTER BY NOW. Should have done something, should have fixed themselves...

Remember when Barack Obama was elected? I went to a fuckin' party to celebrate. There was more than one, I'm sure. I remember sitting there, I think at Cafe Deux Soleils on the Drive, being somewhat puzzled, thinking, why am I at a party to celebrate the election of a president of another country? But I get it now: people thought America had finally fixed itself. Finally, we thought. We don't have to worry for them anymore - they have found the way. How can it have gotten worse since that time? How does a country go from electing Barack Obama - flawed as he is - to electing Donald fucking Trump?

(Please fucking tell me they're not going to re-elect him? They can't, right? [They re-elected Bush]. What kind of psychotic decision-making process does an electorate have to display, here, that we have to actually worry about this possibility?).

It's like some sort of fucking caregiver fatigue sets in for Canadians, like you've got this errant relative that you really want to see get his life together, but who somehow finds ways to fuck everything up. Seeing Obama elected was like seeing a perpetual fuck-up relative clean up, get a job, and get married: finally their life was on track. For a few years, you didn't have to worry about them very much - give or take a few school shootings, the odd targeted overseas drone strike, it was a definite improvement for awhile... Then your relative goes on a meth binge, robs a convenience store, kills a security guard, and you're getting a call from jail...

So I have nothing to say, I'm wiped out. I am going to spend today seeing if I can track down a Velvet Underground CD box set with an awesome 36-minute jam of "Sister Ray" that came out five years ago, that a buddy posted about on Facebook. I'm not even gonna listen to Body Count!

It feels somewhat surreal, even irresponsible, after what we've been seeing all week on the news, to go about ones life like everything is normal...

...except, I guess, for America, this IS normal. How can it be? (And how can it be that it seems to be getting WORSE?).

How did that Clash song go again?

New Bob Mould!

Nice to see Bob get angry again!