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 That No Values Magazine From CiTR K)%9 fM   July 2003   ftree fG'waa* take it#)
\lA+
Puak Fictiont Teresa McWhirter
and Trish Kelly keeo it on the
real by telliag it on the fake
Yo la Tengo / Manitoba
Moneen / Christine Fellows BEEESHa
«??*
THE VANS WARPED TOUR'S-
Ait party...
DJ CHICLET wuHthe SUGARCOOKIES
AS MISO NEEDADRINKEE AS THE FVNKOSTK CHERRY BLOSSOMS
* MC VELVET K»DK —,
IS PROFESSOR VON AHDUBEE -^p* ai"0OT'* \37 V**!/
868'GRfinUlU* STR«T / 604-739-SHOUJ li/(i/(L/.^±3'CO^-^'DD±CD^C
E GET PAST THE LINE ... PRIZES FOR BEST DISCO DUDS ... DISCO GEAR ENSURES PRIORITY ENTRY
CRASH & BURN! *>M
FRIDAY JULY 11 I
-t   ^*
mJjMI
;f t * fi #
longwave
ICOWMODDRE BALLROOM | fc^J CDMM000RE BALLROOM
I FRIDAY JULY 18
mORPHEUM THEATRE
stellast
plusihno
1 SATURDAY JULY 191
guster
^ J   «ith special guests
4'L  RADIO BERLIN
■ COMMODORE BALLROOM I
N;     F   LA  M   E  S;
riHMAIlM
UNEASTOJ
jCOMMODORE BALLROOM I
PURCHASE TICKETS fjjQQ&QQ AT hob.com OR ticketmaster.ca   | ticketmaster604-280-4444/ www.ticketmaster.ca
RjL%
FRIDAY AUGUST 29
"WES OPEN AT 3:00pm • SHOW STARTS AT 4:30pm
RadioKead
Stephen Malkmus and the .licks
WILCO
SATURDAY AUGUST 30
GATES OPEN AT 5:30pm • SHOW STARTS AT 6:30pm
THUNDERBIRD STADIUM
CHytv fefite
Punk Fiction by Teresa McWhirler, Trish Kelly
and Juls Generic p.9
Manitoba by saelan p. 12
Yo La Tengo by Merek Cooper p. 13
Art Spread: Sibyl Vs. The Ghost
by Jonah Grant-Scarfe p. 14
Christine Fellows by Kat Siddle p. 16
Moneen by Kimberley Day p. 17
teite
Music Sucks p.4
Airhead p.5
Fucking Bullshit p.5
Panarticon p.6
Over My Shoulder p.7
Screw You and Your Pointy Shoes p.8
Strut, Fret & Flicker p.8
Under Review p. 18
Real Live Action p.20
Leprechaun Colony p.22
Charts p.23
On the Dial p.24
Kickaround p.25
Datebook p.26
Shannon Hemmett is magic. And I'm not talking
magic like that collectible fucking card game.
Neither am I referring to some kind of holistic
shrub-hugging gramarye. No, I'm talking about the
kind of magic where you tell her vaguely what you
want and she promptly manages to create the best
possible cover out of a digital camera and some
pixie dust. Seriously.
Editron:
Chris Eng
Deputy Editor:
Merek Cooper
Ad Master:
Steve DiPo
Art Directors:
Chris & Merek
Editorial Assistant:
Donovan Schaefer
RLA Coordinator:
Gabby
Website Design:
Esther
Layout and Design:
Chris & Merek (Like Green Lantern
and Green Arrow: they're fast
friends, Merek's almost got Green
Arrow's little goatee, and Chris-
like Hal Jordan —seems nice, but
you know one day he'll eventually
try to destroy the universe.)
Production:
Erin Empey, Kimberly Day, Julie
C, Doretta, Esther, Luke Meat,
saelan, The Ubyssey
Masthead Picture:
Cameron Stewart
On the Dial:
Bryce Dunn/The Limey
Charts:
Luke Meat
Datebook:
Esther
Distribution:
Matt Steffich
US Distro:
Frankie Rumbletone
Publisher:
Lydia Masemola
©  "DiSCORDER"   2003   by  the   Student  Radio  Society  of the  University  of  British  Columbia,
rights  reserved.   Circulation   17,500.   Subscriptions,   payable   in  advance,   to  Canadian   residents
$15 for one year, to residents of the USA are $15 US; $24 CDN elsewhere. Single copies are $2
(to cover postage, of course). Please make cheques or money orders payable to DiSCORDER Magazine.
DEADLINES: Copy deadline for the August issue is July 9. Ad space is available until July 23 and c
be booked by calling Steve at 604.822.3017 ext. 3. Our rates are available upon request. DiSCORDER
is not responsible for loss, damage, or any other injury to unsolicited manuscripts, unsolicited artwork
(including but not limited to drawings, photographs and transparencies), or any other unsolicited materia
Material can be submitted on disc or in type. As always, English is preferred. Send email to DiSCORDER at
discorder@club.ams.ubc.ca.
From   UBC   to   Langley  and   Squamish   to   Bellingham,   CiTR  can  be   heard  at   101.9  fM  as
through   all   major  cable   systems   in   the   Lower  Mainland,   except  Shaw   in   White  Rock.   Call
CiTR DJ Tine at 822.2487, our office at 822.3017 ext. 0, or our news and sports lines at 822.3017
xt. 2. Fax us at 822.9364, e-mail us at: citrmgr@mail.ams.ubc.ca, visit our web site at www.citr.ca or just pick
p a goddamn pen and write #233-6138 SUB Blvd., Vancouver, BC, V6T 1Z1, CANADA.
We apologize for any inconvenience over fhe past year. We now return you to your regularly scheduled
allege radio music/culture magazine.
66 water st Vancouver be
604 683 6695
printed in canada
for more info on these shows and our complete calendar log onto
www.sonar.bc.ca
3 DiSCORDER Shhhhhhh
No need far At&r~
HOLY CRAP, irS ALMOST THAT TIME AGAIN
©Wfldi$
Are you in a band that doesn't suck? Or are you a solo
musician with mad skills?
We are now accepting entries for SHiNDiG! 2003. Send
in your minimum 3 song demo of original material (all
styles welcome) for an opportunity to play CiTR's annual
music deathmatch! Toss your demo, contact information,
and anything else that you would want us to have to:
SHiNDiG! 2003
c/o CiTR Radio
#233-6138 SUB Blvd.
Vancouver, BC V6T 1Z1
Questions? Interested in becoming a
sponsor? For more information please visit
http://www.citr.ca You can also call us at
(604)822-1242 or email Ben Lai at
benlai@citr.ca
mMAIC AUC
editorializing by Chris Eng
^^ Hasta luego, Vancou-
K..J ver; vaya con queso,
DiSCORDER. I've gone the distance, done my time, finished
my metaphorical community
service, put in a year as editor, and in that stretch I've
run the heights and depths of
human emotion, had some of
the best times of my life, and
collided headlong with some
of the most stressful.
Friends? I've made a
few—but then again, too few
to mention... after I drove
them off with a production
deadline-induced psychosis,
anyway. But I met some characters along the way. I mean,
how many times in your life
can you count a man with the
last name "Meat" among your
friends? Not bloody many.
You need to cherish these
moments when you can, folks;
this is the gold rush.
Right, so where was I?
Oh, yeah, I'd like to thank
my manager, my wife Willow
(without you I'm nothing;
I'm under your spell), God
almighty (la, Shub-Niggurath,
Black Goat of the Woods
with 1,000 Young!), and Egg
McMuffins, without which I
might never be tardy. I'd also
like to thank the wonderful
staff at CiTR for allowing a
Best of luck, Merek. Here's
it you need to know:
1) It's true what every editor
says: once you take on the
job, there's really no time for
you to do your own writing
due to your brain being consumed with the task of processing other people's words
There is practically a surplus
tion of contributors and
volunteers, that cat-herding
analogy is horrifyingly apt.
12) If you get serious with
the columnists about deadlines, they will either call you
names (like "Der Fiihrer") or
openly mock you (which, I
allow, would probably happen
anyway).
13) If you don't get serious
The Editor has left the building. Peace and I'm
out. —Chris
of time for your empty brain
to absorb America's Most-
Emaciated Model Search,
though.
2) Free CDs will only get you
so far.
3) Ditto books.
Once you take on the job, there's
really no time for you to do your own
writing. There is practically a surplus of time for your empty brain to
absorb America's Most-Emaciated
Model Search, though.
geek to get needlessly esoteric on a monthly basis (if
you caught the three cultural
references in the previous
sentence, you get, well, nothing, but I'll respect you in the
morning).
Over the course of the
last year, I've also managed
to archive a mental encyclopaedia on publishing and
the way the industry works.
Things they don't tell you in
books or classes. You know,
the useful stuff. So, as the
reins of command are being
passed to our beloved resident Brit, Mr. Merek Cooper, I
feel it is my duty as an editor
and a friend to pass on the
corpus of advice and wisdom
that I've accumulated along
the way. Sure, 1 could just
tell him, but there would be
something inherently ironic
about establishing an oral
history for a print magazine,
don't you think?
4) Ditto sex. (Okay, okay,
1 never got laid because of
DiSCORDER, but it was still
a pleasant pipedream, thanks
very much.)
5) Sometimes publicists will
call and call and all you can
do is stare at the phone in
horror every time it rings,
periodically swatting it with
a large stick.
6) The Organ rules.
7) Local band The Fuck Up
Kids apparently like to go by
the name "Fucked Up Kid."
Who knew?
8) Sleep is a privilege, not a
right.
9) Caffeine is a necessity, not
a luxury.
10) Friends/significant others/
companions are superfluous,
not other human beings who
would probably like to hang
out with you from time to
time.
11) Regarding the coordina-
with the columnists, they will
never turn in anything. Ever.
14) If anything goes wrong
with the magazine, it's your
fault. Unless it's a printing
error, in which case it's partially your fault.
15) Every absent comma or
extra space will stand out in
your eyes like a clearcut patch
on a virgin mountain. No one
else will notice.
16) If people like what you've
printed, they won't write.
Conversely, if they don't like
what you've printed... well,
they probably won't get up
the gumption to write in then,
either.
17) There is no separation
of personal and private anymore. You are now a Doctor
Moreau-esque human/
magazine hybrid shambling
around for others to gawk at
like a degenerate circus freak.
And after a few months of no
sleep and a bad diet, you'll
swear that everyone that
glances even vaguely in your
direction is doing exactly
that.
18) It's all lies and bullshit. All
of it. If you believe any of it,
youn
iunk.
19) And, above all else:
"You've got to know when to
hold them, when to fold them,
when to walk away, and when
to run. You never count your
money when you're sitting
at the table—there'll be time
enough for counting when the
dealing's done." •
4 July 2003 CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISMS
Dear Airhead,
I am writing to give you some
constructive feedback on your
music magazine. Generally it is
very good. A-OK! However I have
two complaints. Please take this
as suggestions for improvement
and not are you going to be
offended by this please.
First (#1) There is not enough
pornographic and erotic material
involving bicycles.
Second (#2) The G.I. Joe
Kiliaz was very good. Please give
more updates on a more regular
basis on the situtation—vis a
vis—cobra command.
#3 (Thirdly) the horoscopes
section is very poor. I can't calculate what sign I am. I think I
am not an unusual case when
I say that 1—and most probably—cannot even remember
the day of the week and time of
day they were born. Also how do
you figure out the alternate week
thing? 1 think you should stick to
good old fashioned month and
year born horoscopes! "On the
dial" is also too esoteric a name
for the section.
Last (#4) You should definitely do more comics. You should
get Marc Bell! He's the best.
Thank you for your efforts!
Mr. Onstructivecay itisism-cray
EXTRA (#5) 1 realize that,
in relation to comment #1, that
words are harder than pictures
to do well. Ultimately writing is
better but so are pictures.
Just quickly addressing a few
points: you can keep up to date
on The Kiliaz by getting on their
mailing list at www.thekillaz.net.
(And this is a good idea because
a lot of stuff has been happening lately—they KILLED Cobra
Commander. Yeah. See what you
miss if you don't stay informed?)
1 know the horoscope section
is a little hard to figure out, but it's
probably going to stay that way,
because we blew our entire annual
budget a couple of years ago on a
machine that would chart all of
that for us and we need to get our
money's worth on it. It's a little
arcane, to be sure, but it's pretty
accurate. Especially when you
get into the minute hairsplitting
of those who fall under the House
ofjazz.
Thankyoufor all of the stickers, religious pamphlets, and New
Kids on the Block clippings that
you accompanied this letter with.
Usually the mail we get up here
has no adhesive properties whatsoever, and that makes us sad.
And Marc Bell is the best. He
should do bike porn for us.
—Chris
i, Jordan ond Donny, rent in New York Oty ot Z-100':
'atzer. Images
Pictures of the New Kids in
the maiL creepy or cool or
both at once?
TMckinn bullWlvit
w
■ a problem
We can't ignore
: any longer! We
must put a stop to anorexia
in rock and roll!
I'm not talking about
women. There are anorexic
women everywhere, and people like it. It's too late to turn
that shit around. I'm talking
about the increasing num-
ith legs thin-
necks s
their
■ guitars, dicks s
mer than their fucking bass
strings. WHAT is going on?
Look, I don't know who
decided that being thin was
a good idea, but it's not. Thin
is out, man. It s not jus
it's sick. Mick Jagger's cc
or whatever, but he's gro
Steve Albini's pretty ne
I guess, but he's a perv.
looks like a walking penis. 1
ut,
l.Tho:
;guys
rget
laid, man. The whole point
being a rock star is so you can
get laid, right? Well, as a hot
broad, I can tell you that no
hot broad wants to lie around
with a cold floor board.
bullshit by Christa Min
I'm not saying that you
should work out and get all
shapely and shit. I'm saying you've got to get fat
and squishy. I'm saying you
should eat until your face
looks like pork. I'm saying you
should drink until your belly
comes out like a fag. Well,
turned out to be the most
fun. Like trampolines and
gelatin. FUN!
I guess the real root of the
anorexia epidemic is drugs.
No, actually, it's vegetarianism. Vegetables are cool. Just
deep-fry them. Or dip them in
ice cream or something. Trust
Mick Jagger's cool or whatever, but
he's gross. Steve Albini's pretty neat,
I guess, but he's a perv. He looks like a
walking penis.
not so much that it weighs
down your erection. That's
no good.
In the early '90s, the two
guys that got laid the most
were Tad Doyle and Van
Conner. Sure, Chris Cornell
and Eddie Vedder were the
ones who walked around
shirtless all the time. They
were the ones that got on
the cover of Spun or whatever, but the chicks didn't go
for them. They figured they
were taken, so they went for
the poor, old fat dudes who
me, man. You'll need a good
coat of fat to survive on tour.
It's going to get cold driving in
the middle of the night. Some
nights you might not get paid
enough to eat properly, so
you're going to have to rely
on your fat reserve. But most
importantly, a tour isn't a tour
unless you hook up with some
broads. The hottest ones are
only going to go for the big
dudes. Next tour, you don't
need to pack anything but
some weight. Extra pounds ■
extra POO-SAY! Trust me. •
eeYono superman:
iLLUsTranon, AnimaTion ano comix
Comics, along with illustration and animation, can convey satire, political and social
commentary,and black humour. Deceptively
complex in its simplicity, contemporary
comic work is vital and thought-provoking.
Emily Carr Institute, along with the Alliance
Francaise, is hosting an exhibition of the
Ny       work of 25 contemporary Swiss comic
artists, animators and illustrators and presenting workshops by some of the artists.
£
Emily Carr Institute
of ART + DESIGN
n  ELH
a/'
Creating Stories Without Words
■*July 21 -23
A three-day workshop on character development, body language, timing, flow and
personal style in the creation of comic
strips and other stories without words.
Instructor Helge Reumann, Geneva, Switzerland
Deconstructing the Comic Strip
-»July 28 -30
A three-day workshop on building stories
through illustration, dialogue and character
development.
Instructor Nicolas Robel, Geneva, Switzerland
^WOIJAMS
5 DiSCORDER RlfORO^RlUASrPARfY,.
luicebox
Julia and Maura
invite you to listen in on jukebox,
a brand new radio talk show about sex!
Wednesday nights at 8 pm on CiTR 101.9 fm
listen online at www.citr.ca
current events   •   interviews   •   sexual health
pleasure tips   •   commentaries   •   local resources
jukebox,   your ears have never felt so naughty!"
visit www.juiceDOxradio.com
lanarticon
the sound of spectacle by tobias
6 July 2003
"There's a time for war,
and a time for reloading."
—Doonesbury's Trudeau
The European Summer Edition
Fuck indeed. Seven days in
Spain convinces just about
anyone that Bush isn't the
only one reloading his weapons in a mad frenzy... The
anti-Americanism in the air
is palpable, and it was all but
necessary to tattoo a Canadian
flag to my forehead in a last-
ditch effort to convince the
cabbies to avoid side-impacting my frail, northern body
into the ancient, Roman walls
of Barcelona... The graffiti on
the walls spoke it all—and
not only from the anarchist
Catalunias, as some very
respectable looking clothing
stores in the windy streets of
the Old District i '
those "No Entry" signs
crossed-out bombs... ;;N
la Guerral! Back when
lions were hitting the i
worldwide, the energy peaked
in Spain with an astounding
91% of the population against
the war, shutting down the
major cities by banging on
pots & pans... I can imagine
the clamour and the utter
seriousness of such a symbolic
gesture, rising against the US,
the UK, and the pro-war
Spanish Government—not
only against imperialism and
wanton, needless destruction, but neatly conjoining
the politics of autonomy that
underlie Catalunya. Life here
is loud, and protest is even
louder; while I was staying in
my fourth-floor apartment
on Balmes an infestation of
3,000 hot, greased motorbikes
terrorised the city with high-
volume psych-warfare: honking at levels far exceeding 100
decibels, revving engines in the
36-degree heat, and calling out
the Policia—and this was just
to show a little muscle against
rising insurance rates for
motorcyclists (which, given the
number of tanned Spaniards
on crutches in the downtown
core alone, might be a damn
good idea).
Is this truly evidence of
the power of protest in the
Old World? And can one really
take it seriously? Up until only
a few short decades ago Spain
was still under a dictatorship,
and the high-powered sentiments against the Americans
from France and Russia have
more to do with the exact way
in which Middle Eastern oil is
to be distributed. The question
of ethics, the absolute lying
& subterfuge that "embedded" Gulf War II as 'absolutely
necessary' is somewhat of a
front—most of Europe had oil
contracts with Iraq. But if this
is the case, it has not stopped
the London press from taking
the cause to its limits by frontpaging a full, official inquiry
into Blair's claims that Iraq had
those infamous, nasty—and
apparently invisible—Weapons
of Mass Destruction. At least
the UK public is relatively
informed that r.o WMD were
ever found—in the US, according to a recent PIPA/Knowledge
Networks poll, 41% believed
the US had found WMD, and
22% believed Iraq had used
chemical or biological weapons in the war. Perhaps this
also accounts for the Spanish
popularity of Michael Moore's
Bowling For Columbine, which
is still playing to packed theatres. Everyone I spoke to
had a question to ask from
reconstruct a divisionary global
field of polarized politics. Take
some footage of the rallies in
Spain—or, hell, Germany—age
it in Final Cut, and I'd be willing
to bet that nothing much has
changed—at least in outward
appearances—since some of
the more popular gatherings
of the Second World War. As
those inept motorcyclists so
aptly displayed, they could be
rallying about anything. As
long as there is something to
hate, there is, at its converse,
something to love and thus,
defend—even if it's an idea.
This is the core of the whole
problem. "Love" embraces the
same dynamic; this was the
whole trip with the '60s: with
Hippie   Love   came   Militant
Canada is a violent, underlyingly racist
country—one only has to look at our history of Japanese internment camps, First
Nations issues, corporate asslicking and
"multicultural" policies.
the film, wondering if it was
true that Canadians kept their
doors unlocked, and if Windsor
is as peacefully different from
Detroit as it appeared to be.
"Sort of." What else could I say?
Canada is a violent, underlyingly racist country, too—one
only has to look at our history
of Japanese internment camps,
First Nations issues, corporate
asslicking and "multicultural"
policies—but somehow we
seem to avoid the nastier manifestations of ultimate Fear
& Paranoia which govern US
politics. Decriminalization was
a big plus for Canada—anyone
in Spain who knows we are
within an inch to freeing the
weed was ecstatic. And let that
be a note to our government:
decriminalization improves our
international image.
Back to the Brits: Blair's
spittle-laden speeches were
maybe a little too eerily reminiscent of events 70 years
ago across the Channel... Will
Blair get it, too? (And he's
Labour!) Meanwhile, Bush looks
untouched. Not surprising, but
why? For reasons that might
necessitate rewinding the clock
thirty years ago to Nixon. A
year or two after Watergate—
after he was booted from
the White House—Nixon's
approval rating swung right
back into babykissing territory,
and he was receiving standing
ovations once again. There is
something very, very wrong
with the majority of human
brains.
What's wrong is the same
fucked-up sense one feels in
European anti-Americanism. It
can name the enemy, but only
the obvious one, and only to
Hate.
Not that we're able to simply jump out and escape the
whole mess. In early June, a
debate erupted on Nettime.org
as to how to define our current state of affairs: has the
time come to call the US "fascist" at the level of political
analysis? What do we mean
and understand by "fascism"
today? If we define "fascism"
as: a basic State structure that
necessitates surveillance and
militarized police control of its
own population (what Virilio
calls "endocolonization"), a prioritized global military agenda,
actions taken to silence serious dissent both internally
and externally, an economic
agenda protected by the use
of military force, secret State
operations conducted beyond
the reach of law (of the State
and international), and the
ignorance and dismissal of
international law & agreements
(World Court, Kyoto, Geneva
Convention), then we already
have identified the basic components of "fascism." Fascism
proper, insofar as we have historically named it, and as Brian
Massumi has pointed out, relies
upon a shift of perspective to a
Leader—the "black hole" of
the leader's face, the intense
faciality of a cult-following,
i.e., a massive manifestation
of what we can call "pinpoint
patriotism." So, here's some
news: the US is withdrawing
troops in the Korean DMZ.
Guess why? So they can utilise
tactical nukes. The war, folks,
is far from over.
Erase the Face! • over mv
book reviews by Doretta
It's summer, and many
people earmark certain
books for this season's fun-
in-the-sun reading. There's no
shortage of titles to amuse
you if you're sitting poolside
and aspiring to skin cancer.
Detective novels, tell-all memoirs, and celebrity biographies
rate high on most July/August
reading lists. As well, most
newspapers give major column inches to chicklit books.
Though Over My Shoulder has
featured a guilty pleasure or
three, there's no room for
Harlequin here (because they
at night: I need my fix of Harry
Potter. My dealer, Raincoast
Books, has put my copy in the
mailbox, but I'm like a kid on
Christmas Eve—I don't know
how much longer I can wait.
While anticipating the
release of Rowling's latest, I
read British journalist Toby
Young's How to Lose Friends
and Alienate People. I'd been
curious, mostly because of the
title's play on the ultimate self-
help book, How To Win Friends
and Influence People. Talk
about a tell-all book: Young
leaves nothing to the imagination when dissecting his time
Everything Is Illuminated has everything I want in a boyfriend: smart,
funny, and obsessed with postmodern
concerns.
don't send review copies and
because my money's spent
on shoes—rather than books
about someone else buying
shoes).Instead, I'll reiterate
all the talk about a certain
children's book that has made
a certain author, according
to news reports, "richer than
Queen Elizabeth." Every literate child in the city is probably
trying to get his or her hands
on a copy of Harry Potter and
the Order of the Phoenix. One
Vancouver bookstore sold a
thousand copies in the first 24
hours. My 13-year-old cousin
rang her purchase in just 48
hours after the release. She
stopped by my house clutching her very own spider-killing
copy of the fifth book in J.K.
Rowling's series and told a long
story about how she couldn't
buy it for $23 at a discount
mega grocery store (the book
retails for $43). "That's what
happens when the book hasn't
fallen off the back of a broom,"
I said. It took a lot of effort not
to rip the giant book out of her
hands and shout, "It's mine!
It's mine!" My wee cousin
gave me a withering look, as
teenaged girls are wont to do
in the presence of a not-cool
older cousin. (Apparently, she
hasn't forgiven me for bashing her latest idol, Ms. Avril
Lavigne, who, incidentally,
appears as a celebrity character in the addictive game Sims
Superstar.) After this quick
exchange, we decided to read
the first two chapters out loud,
which took nearly an hour. The
novel's dramatic tension is on
par with the radio plays of yesteryear. When my wee cousin's
brother (who I guess is also my
cousin, if we want to be technical here) picked her up, I was
sad to see the book go. Now
I'm twitching and can't sleep
at Vanity Fair. The upside of
the book is that he's trying to
examine New York's unspoken
class system. The downside is
that he's as self-obsessed as
Leah McLaren, or me. (That's a
lot of self-obsession, enough to
fill several city blocks.) This can
make for fun reading, depending on how you feel about
books that are all me, me,
me! After finishing the book
in two days, I concluded that
memoirs are a little like reality
television: the person involved
knows that they are subject to
an audience's gaze, and "reality" is edited from hours and
hours of life/footage. If you
are a media-watcher/media-
whore/media-lackey, you'll
enjoy How To Lose Friends and
Alienate People. But this wasn't
enough to prevent me from
going crazy from my anticipation of the Harry Potter
book. I had to spend my lunch
hours devouring Jonathan
Safran Foer's Everything Is
Illuminated in order to keep my
sanity. Boy, was it tasty—and
so much healthier than a diet
of tabloids and glossy magazines. The book combines
the epistolary tradition with
the modern take of protago-
nist-as-omniscient-narrator.
Everything Is Illuminated
has everything I want in a
boyfriend: smart, funny, and
obsessed with postmodern
concerns. Needless to say, Foer
is my latest crush (1 love his
book and have seen pictures
of him in a duffel coat and
glasses), and only good sense
is preventing me from staking
out his Williamsburg home
(he lives near Paul Auster) and
asking him to be my New York
best friend. Finally, if you're
tired of being housebound,
here are some other good
ways to spend your time this
summer: go see Chen Kaige's
latest film, Together. The little
violin-playing nerds in that
film make me sad. Or catch the
documentary that will make
you laugh and cry, Spellbound.
Those little spelling bee nerds
make me really happy. There's
also the Vancouver Folk
Festival—its summer date and
Jericho Beach location make
it the most beautiful musical
happening of the year—as
well as the New Forms Festival
and Powell Street Festival.
You might also want to stop
by some galleries: Antisocial,
Xeno, and Onepointsix. And,
of course, there's always the
option of falling asleep from
heat exhaustion at the Sugar
Refinery. Remember to dress
cool and drink lots of water.
DAVY ROTHBART
The Lone Surfer of Montana,
Kansas
(21 Balloons)
Davy Rothbart, cre
ator of Found magazine
(www.foundmagazine.com),
is a funny guy. His December
Found show at the Sugar
Refinery had Vancouverites
laughing so hard, it's surprising that no one wet their
pants. Sure, the found items
(documents, notes, random
pieces of paper rescued from
the street and dumpsters) are
hilarious and sometimes chilling, but it's really the force
of Rothbart's personality
that makes the examination
of these cultural artifacts a
compelling exercise. In person,
it's hard to tell whether or not
his hip hop persona is ironic
or if he's totally serious, dogg.
Either way, something in his
work says, "Support me! Buy
me!" so I listened to that voice
and bought the magazine and
the book.
In the five stories in The
Lone Surfer of Montana,
Kansas, Rothbart writes in a
heartbreakingly naive tone.
His protagonists are all male
and the stories are told from
a first-person perspective.
The title story is especially
good. I had to stop reading it
partway through because my
lunchbreak was over, and the
whole afternoon I couldn't
stop wondering what was
going to happen. At times,
the stories felt like they ended
abruptly and 1 was left wanting
more. I can imagine reading
The Lone Surfer while camping,
with the sun on everything and
the smell of evergreens in the
air, because the book is a little
slice of what an idyllic summer
should contain. That and a
little Belle and Sebastian. •
:   JUU 3rd to 6th! Mights! 6 Venues! Over 30 Bands! :
\ RAArcjftEsr
•   VANCOUVER'S FOURTH ANNUAL ROOTS PARTY!    '.
LIVE at ...THE ROYAL
THE RAILWAY
THE SUGAR REFINERY
THE MAIN
THE CAMBRIAN HALL
..ore info: www.ranch.ipfox.com
■RAY CONDO and  his  Rlcochets-BOTTLENEC
lPETUNIABILLY's-RICH HOPE and the Now Racel
■BUGHOUSE 5-PARLOUR  STEPS-KEITH   ROSEI
■ JOHN   GULIAK and   Lougan   Brothers>COAL|
*- JOHNSTON-RODNEY DECROO and the Killers I
■ ROGER   DEAN   YOUNG-LEAH   ABRAMSC
BIG JOHN BATES-CHRIS HOUSTON'S EVIL TWANGl
■ GOLDEN WEDDING BAND-ACCORDION MADNESS ■
ILINDA MCRAE-DAVID P- SMITH-ANA BON BONl
■cONRAD-THE BUTTLESS CHAOS  ENSEMBLEl
IE  AMY   HONEVs-ANDHEW  VINCEr
■ JACK HARLAN-ASHLEY PARK-BELINDA BRUCEl
1ERALD  NIX-EL  DORADO-GEOFF  BERNER!
VIAC   PONTIAC- KENT   McALISTERl
JULY 8
PCTG MILLS
plus a pickin' party with
AMVtfON€V
DA\J£ GOWANS
ANCW&CIaJ JlNCCNT
from Ottawa
qOG€C£ DEAN VO JNG
JULY 15
LCCBOV
from Florida
GMN
IMMACULATC MACtllNC
TUESDAY NIGHTS at
the RAILWAY CLUB
7 DiSCORDER SCREW YOU
and your pointy shoes.  ^
At rat, fret
& flicker
performance/art by Penelope Mulligan
TINSEL & CREAM #6
Friday, May 23
Western Front
Good production values
have never hurt any show's
underground cred, and the
latest installment of Tinsel &
Cream could have benefited
from some proactive attention to the technical glitches
and yawning gaps that gave
a gimpy feel to an otherwise
impressive cabaret. The artists on the bill were so widely
disparate that the programme
needed some serious cura-
tion, so I'd have tweaked the
running order as well. That
said, the night did have a
choppy charm. Even Mistress
of Ceremonies Suzanne Ward
a rattle in the dash with
ods of philosophical analysis
could be employed. Hegelian
epithets flew and Foucault was
invoked as members accused
each other of being "hopelessly
Schopenhauerian." Meanwhile,
a porn film unspooled on a wall
beside them in all its grunting glory. While the meeting's
terminal verbosity began
to feel obscene, the graphic
labours in the porn flick took
on a scientific air. Apparently,
SFU is planning to offer a Porn
Studies course this autumn, of
pomology should be required
viewing—it's outrageous,
well-crafted, and stupefyingly
Folk      noir     troubadour
Kevin House picked up after
ission with a beautiful
of pomology: It's a really boring picture until you
look at what's going on in the background.
8 July 2003
(Love me? Hate me?... eat me. rarejams@shaw.ca)
her low-brow yokel demeanor.
Things got underway
with a screening of Shawn
Chappelle's California, Mexico.
The video artist still burns
his way into your eyes with
intense colour, but in his
recent work, themes are dealt
with more subtly. Here, in a
gesture of symbolic repatriation, the candy-coated hues
in scenes of California were
burned away by the hot-earth
reds and golds from south of
the border. The raucous audience seemed baffled.
By contrast, multi-tasking scenester Robert Andrew
Dayton needed no explanation.
He appeared in storytelling
mode and read us a letter to a
friend who'd inherited a castle
in Europe. In it, he fantasized
what their life together would
be like if she let him come to
stay with her. It was delightfully written and elegantly
unhinged.
The evening's biggest wallop came with Dylan Cree's
of pomology. It hit the screen
with such hysterical brilliance
that the crowd was just begging for mercy. The film concerned a society of academics
whose mission was to legitimize pornography as a field of
study in which rigorous meth-
set drawn from his CD, Gutter
Pastoral. The live addition of
Ida Nilsen on piano and J.P.
Carter on trumpet offset his
acoustic guitar and processed
voice with texture and emo-
The show had already been
eclectic in the extreme, but pianist Paul Plimley truly seemed
to have landed from another
galaxy where virtuosity is a
given and the only important
things are art and the moment
in which it's being made. The
man is a fucking athlete on his
instrument. He played three
selections from Stockhausenis
Tierkreis and then treated us
to one of his own compositions
against a video backdrop from
Chappelle. The music was like a
symphony for a building site—
full of metallic crashes and
tumbling, broken melodies. All
the while, he kept his eyes on
the screen so as to stay connected with his collaborator.
What humility.
And then for something
completely different. A little
Dayton was a dangerous thing
because it meant the rest was
yet to come. He had expected
to do one long set and was
miffed at having to split it into
two parts. In retaliation, he
returned to hijack the show
and hold it hostage for a very
long time. The break had given
him ample time to visit the bar
and he came on stage bearing
a glass of scotch like a lethal
prop. It's not the first time I've
seen a performer get progressively hammered on the job,
but, unlike most, who more
or less stick to the business at
hand, Dayton was spoiling for a
fight. He pouted and flounced,
heckled the audience and kept
aborting attempts to screen
video footage of himself. This
man needed a handler and,
unfortunately, Mistress Ward
wasn't up to it. Opting for the
conciliatory approach, she
offered up her spandex-clad
tush for him to whale on with
the microphone. This would
pacify him for short periods
because he liked the sound
that it made. An invitation to
rumble was accepted and, in
the resulting fracas, the floor
was littered with broken glass.
The couple in front of me fled
in consternation as Dayton
lunged at the audience looking
for fresh contenders. What a
consummate pro.
The episode would have
been pure Dada if the show
had just ended in this dissolute
fashion but, sadly, Chappelle's
haunting and wonderfully
named Natalie Without a
Cause had to close the programme after focus had been
shredded and the audience had
thinned. Consisting entirely of
collaged sound and footage
from Rebel Without a Cause,
the video featured Natalie
Wood in bleeding, amplified
colour. Deprived of both narrative continuity and (save
for one brief clip) James Dean,
the Hollywood icon wandered
among the truncated scenes,
bumping into edits and dragging ghostly, out-of-synch
dialogue behind her. Watching
was like a dream that I wanted
to have again.
As we knocked around
outside afterwards, House
began hucking copies of Cutter
Pastoral out the window of the
upstairs loo like party favours
and I gleefully scored one,
busted CD case and all. Funny
how this gave the show the
closure it needed.
THE PLUGHOLE
After five years, Vancouver's
only microcinema will be history when The Blinding Light!!
shuts down its projectors for
the last time on Friday, July
18. That night's closing bash
should be right out of order—
so be there. Also try to catch
some of the remaining screenings in the next two and a half
weeks. That way, although
you'll still be sad, you'll be able
to say, "Je ne regret rien." • PUNK READS O.K.
THREE LOCAL AUTHORS REVEAL THE INHERENT
TRUTH ABOUT THINGS. py
You can read as many non-fiction books as you want, hidden away
from the world in your musty, dusty chambers, but none of your book-
learning will have as accurately and incisively taken apart the world as
fiction's delicately beautiful precision.
And you can go to as many classes on Sub-Culture and Subversion as an
Anthropological and Socio-Political Movement in the Post-Modern Landscape,
but you won't know anything about punk or what it's like to grow up outside
the walls of society. Luckily, Vancouver has a variety of voices dedicated to
letting people into the cloistered world of punks, queers and the auslanders at
the fringes.
This month, DiSCORDER is proud to present three of them: Teresa
McWhirter, Trish Kelly, and Juls Generic.
Remember: just because they make it up doesn't mean it's not real.
Mask
by Trish Kelly
I was nine when Mask, the movie starring Cher as a biker mom with a hideously deformed son,
made it on to CBS Sunday Night at the Movies. There were things 1 didn't understand about it, but
I liked it because all the bikers were tough but really nice to the hideous boy.
My dad was a biker. Not a big shot, a small time dope dealer with a couple Hondas strewn across
the basement floor, and membership at a clubhouse just outside the city limits. His friends owned
Firebirds and Dobermans. Their small-time bravado made me feel invisible. Even so, I was fascinated
by them.
I was also fascinated by my classmate, Karen Barbeau. Karen had a birthmark on her chin the
color of cherry bubblegum, and long brown hair her mother made her wear down. My mother called
Karen my best friend, but 1 felt more like her protector. At recess, I guarded her, taking on any
challengers, acting as a decoy or facing the boys head-on.
After school, we played in her basement, dancing to her mom's Loverboy and Air Supply records.
We sang the duets, trading off the high and low parts and made dance routines until her mother came
down and said it was time for me to go.
Karen's mother always eyed me with mild disapproval. 1 figured it was because she had a car and
we didn't, so every evening Mrs. Barbeau had to drive me home.
Sometimes Mrs. Barbeau's boyfriend drove me home. He had a white Corvette and liked to rev
the engine to impress me. I imagined he was a biker too, like my Dad, but nicer, like Cher's boyfriend
in Mask.
One day, while playing Barbies in Karen's bedroom, I thought up a game that combined my two
fascinations—Karen and bikers. I explained the game to Karen, and she lay down on her bed and I lay
down beside her. I can't remember who got to be Cher. It didn't seem very important, and we switched
off several times. We wrapped our arms around each other, our bodies making one big log, tossing
back and forth on her Smurf comforter.
I knew what kissing was. It was the thing the boys threatened Karen with at recess, the thing the
girls squealed and ran away from; so 1 didn't try to kiss Karen. It was enough to be close to her, to feel
her breath, bubblegum sweet, on my neck. We didn't say anything at all, just tumbled in each other's
arms until we were tired of it, and then Karen's mom came to say it was time to drive me home.
We stood up quickly, our faces flushed, and I scrambled over the discarded Barbies for my shoes.
I slipped them on, and Mrs. Barbeau bent down beside me.
She smoothed my ruffled hair, "I think you girls should find a different game to play." She made us
look her in the eye and we promised we would.
November—December. A Year of Sorts.
by Juls Generic
Her first semester of college ended. Although preoccupied with the mouth-breathers in her
class, Elliot earns a B+ in her Politics of Western Europe class. The first thing she does is a
double of acid, which was given to her for her 18th birthday, a few weeks before.
She could see the red tones in her carpet. The world shimmered. The textured walls vibrated. She
cleaned the kitchen and opened the doors and windows wide and took deep breaths. She walked in
the alleys and felt the rain seep through her pores. When she got back, no one had noticed she had
gone. She sewed and dyed her hair a frizzy platinum blonde. She wondered why she only accomplished
things when the ground wobbled and the patterns on the tile rose and fell in rhythmic patterns.
The next day, she ate oranges.
At this time, she spent a lot of time talking on the phone to someone she had never met. He
phoned her out of the blue one day. An old roommate had given him Elliot's number, but she wasn't
setting them up. He was twenty-eight and the old roommate was trying to set him up with her
mother. The ex-roommate's mother was in a younger guy phase. She thought they'd get along. Elliot
didn't mind. It was like talking to a new person on the bus, except this time it lasted more than the
brief between-stop moments. She didn't tell him she did acid. She told him she bleached her hair. He
told her he prefered brunettes.
9 DiSCORDER "Well," Elliot said, "good thing we're not fucking."
He was a cook, and he told her how he hated how everyone at
work flirted with each other just because it was the only thing that
made work more interesting, but he would flirt with Elliot, and she
figured it was just because it made his life more interesting.
"I might have a-crush on you," he told her one day. "Mostly
because you play guitar."
But he didn't ever ask her to play.
His name was Jackson.
One day, in December, Elliot went to an uninteresting bar
with some interesting people. Despite their being interesting, she
was still distracted when he walked into the bar. Maybe they just
weren't interesting at all.
She knew it was him because he'd told anecdotes about his
jacket with the Pixies patch, because she knew that his hair grew
in natural dread-clumps in the front of his hair, because she knew
he was half-black. Also he'd told anecdotes about coming to this
bar on Tuesdays for buckabeer night, and it was Tuesday, and
there she was, and there he was.
"You should give me a cigarette," she said to him, as she
walked up to his table. She wanted to set a false precedent of
confidence.
He looked a bit worried. He looked down at his empty pack. He
glanced over to the guy he was sitting with, who Elliot figured was
his roommate, Sam, and she was right. Sam gave her a cigarette.
"So are you... ?" Jackson asked.
Elliot didn't say anything and sat down. She missed her bus on
purpose that night. They took a cab back to his apartment. He first
kissed her while they were watching Apocalypse Now on mute. He
was reciting all the lines, especially the Charlie Sheen ones. She
laughed, suddenly, as she saw rage and jungle and death on the
"What?"
"This is a weird movie to be making out to."
when he walked away to the skytrain station.
"I wish you had come with me," Jackson said, when he called
her that night.
"I wish you had come with me," she told him back.
She didn't tell him she was going to Quebec, but it didn't
matter, because by Valentine's Day, they weren't talking anyways.
She didn't know if she cared or not.
Bernice Bares All
by Teresa McWhirter
Blue went to go see her old boyfriend, Jake. There was
nothing else to do and she was hungry. Blue did this every
once in a while; she figured he owed her for those goddamn
apple Brown Bettys she'd made during their flailing relationship.
Blue had really been into Jake. He was a decent guy but couldn't
get off the sauce and the booze was starting to get him. He wrote
stories about being a drunk and Blue thought they were good. She
just couldn't take the hangovers. She still loved him a bit, and it
was a pretty horrible feeling.
"Hey, Blue!" Jake screeched, opening the door. He called her
Blue because he said she was always morose. He also used to say
she had a long face like a horse. "How ya doin'? Ya never come and
see me anymore!" Jake wore a white t-shirt covered in dried chili
sauce. His hairy chicken legs stuck out of his boxers. He looked
really skinny. "Come on in. We're drinking!"
She flopped on the couch, on top of some books and papers.
She had learned never to move things. A dark-haired girl in braids
sat across the room looking at the floor.
"Drink!" Jake handed Blue a Tupperware glass. "We're starting
early." He hadn't shaved for at least a week. He motioned at the
In the fall, after Montreal had come and gone and left her breathless
and confused, when she spent evenings on the couch and drank long
cups of tea and hated, hated, hated the cold, she wrote poems on the
fridge with magnets while the coffee was brewing. The poems were
limited, because all the words were unchangably erotic.
And he looked at her like he didn't understand.
And that night, they slipped off each other's clothes in total
darkness and stayed in their underwear all night and showed each
other their tattoos. The next day, Jackson flew to the Toronto
suburbs for three weeks.
He kept calling, more often now. Long conversations about
nothing she could remember. He was visiting his parents and in
his old bedroom were boxes of Beatrix Potter books and he'd read
them to her. On Christmas Eve, they talked for six hours.
He called her beautiful. Often.
When he came back, nothing was how they talked about. Why
did he call every day when he was four provinces away but almost
never when he lived one bus exchange away? It plagued her.
Plus, he smoked Ultra-Light Viscounts, and he corrected her
when she pronounced the "s," even though he didn't care about
French, didn't speak it.
"Why do you even smoke these?" She didn't get it.
If anything, he was usually sharing his cigarettes, even though
she hated them, having to choke back a hot inhalation to get
anything through the thick filters.
"Because I'm quitting. I'm not really a smoker."
It made her laugh, if not intentionally. He meant it. She gave
back the cigarette to his yellow-hued, tobacco-stained fingers
which pressed twenty-plus cigarettes into his mouth each day, like
that Quebec separatist politician who was always smoking, even
in the picture of him getting sworn into Parliament.
Once he came over and she made him dinner and they watched
bad television until around one.
"Let's go to bed," she said, "I have a class at 9:30." Which really
meant, hey, let's go fool around.
"I'm not tired," so he played Nintendo until he came to bed
around 3:30. Then they fooled around. The next day, she realized
she should've been mad, but she was too giddily-tired to be. It was
a Friday, the day when professors, like high school teachers, like
to show movies. She watched Just Watch Me: The Trudeau Years
which was about bilingualism, and not about the October Crisis. It
was about the Summer Language Bursary Program, and making
love with strangers, regardless of the language barrier. She sat in
the back of the lecture hall, cross-legged, hoodie on, and she knew
she'd go. Quebec. Angry separatists. French fucking. A summer
away.
When Elliot got home, Jackson was still there, playing Nintendo
with her roommate Olivia. Elliot slept.
She wanted to go out that night, to a bar close to his house.
He didn't, because he didn't go to any bars he thought his ex-
girlfriends went to. She wanted to see the band that was playing,
so she did. He came with her as far as the bar. It started snowing
that night. It was February. The city was fluffy. He left footsteps
10 July 2003
girl. "This is Bernice."
Bernice Deigado. Blue knew who she was. "Hello, Bernice."
Bernice looked at Blue for a long time then finally said hello.
Jake walked by and she clutched him. He toppled over and fell
beside her.
"Got anything to eat?" Blue asked. Jake's place was two rooms
covered in beer cans and wine bottles filled with butts. She walked
into the kitchen and opened the fridge: a jar of mustard and
mouldy pork fried rice in a styrofoam container. The sink was filled
with grey, slimy water. She went back to the living room.
"There's nothing to goddamn eat here!"
"Yep," Jake agreed.
Bernice picked up her wine and drained it. "Atta girl!" Jake said.
Bernice had a large, pointed nose and small, blue eyes. Bernice
also had enormous tits. She could've been eighteen or twenty-
eight; she had the ageless look of a person unaffected by the
world. Blue poured herself more wine.
"Whattya been doing?" she asked Jake.
"Drinking."
"Yeah?"
"Bernice is in nursing school."
Bernice began to rub the inside of Jake's thigh. He continued
on. "I beat up a guy last night," he said. "I got kicked out of the
bar."
"Why?"
"The bouncer's a dick!"
"Why'd you beat him up?"
"He was hitting on Bernice. He said he wanted to see her
goodies!"
Bernice smiled vaguely. Suddenly she began to unbutton her
shirt. She wore a stretched black bra and ripped that off, too. She
got up and started to dance. Blue grabbed the wine bottle. She
really had something on Jake now.
"Jesus Christ, Bernice!" Bernice tweaked her nipples.
"What the hell?" Blue said. Bernice kept dancing. The room
was very quiet. Bernice began to hum through her huge nose. She
smiled and Blue stared at her bottom teeth.
"Bernice, Jesus Christ!" Jake hollered.
"Holy shit!" said Blue.
"Sorry about that." Jake went to the kitchen and got another
bottle. Bernice stopped dancing and sat down on the bed. "She
likes girls, too," Jake called from the other room.
"You've got a real wild one, buddy," Blue said. It was weird
to talk about Bernice like she wasn't there. "Real wild fucking
guacamole."
Jake and Blue settled into a fairly normal conversation
about people they knew and the long-lost cat. Bernice was still
motionless on the bed. Blue wondered what would happen if she
stayed and they all got really loaded.
"I'm going," Blue said and gathered her bag. Blue was still
hungry but she knew Jake was probably broke so she didn't try
nagging him for money. It bothered her, thinking about what
Bernice and he would do when she left. Christ, with all the
windows open.
"Sorry about Bernice," Jake said as he walked her to the door.
She could tell he meant it.
Blue opened the door and looked back at Bernice. Then she
laughed. It was an ugly sound. For a minute she felt great.
Down the hall she heard Jake yell, "Bernice you stupid cunt!"
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry," Bernice sobbed.
Blue slammed the exit door. Jake was turning into a real creep.
She wondered if he'd always been one and she'd never noticed.
On the stairs I stopped to count my change. I had the feeling
it was going to be a shitty day, and that Bernice would bother me
for a long, long time.
Pie Stories
by Trish Kelly
She spent the summer baking pies and delivering them to the
little health food store where he worked. He'd come out of
the stockroom, his apron blushing from paprika or pale with
pastry flour, and he'd apologize for being so dirty.
It happened so often that it felt normal, and he could stare
down anyone who suggested otherwise. Like his roommates who
watched with envy as he carried down a horde of small plates and
forks from his room every weekend.
She did it because she loved him. She always had.
The first time she saw him, he was leaning against his bike
in the parking lot, and she felt the entire world go slightly out of
focus, like channel two with rabbit ears, but he was cable. He had
clean features and wore a scruffy duffel coat in late May. He had a
little boy's name, and even through the bulky jacket, she could tell
that he was on the skinny side.
And then one time, he played songs down at the cafe. They
were all covers, and most of them she didn't know well, but
she started crying during his set because his raspy optimism
overwhelmed her. She began to imagine her entire life without
kissing him.
Afterwards, she whispered, "You have the voice of an angel,"
and he packed up his guitar and walked her home.
On the way, she started planning their next pie. It was late
June and she had a freezer full of local strawberries.
There were some silent moments, and stupid jokes, mostly
his. She laughed, the staccato of her voice bouncing off the brick
row houses and metal staircases that lined her block.
They stood outside her building for a moment, and she couldn't
think what to say. So she reached for the keys in her pocket and
opened the door, hoping he was following. The door closed quickly
behind her and she reeled to watch him sprinting across the street
and then out of sight by the depanneur.
He left because he wanted to go upstairs, because he wanted
to ask her if he could use her bathroom. But he'd felt longing and
disappointment so many times, they felt like a cause and effect
relationship. It seemed too fatalistic.
He started walking home, his hands in his pockets. He thought
about the girl and how stupid she probably thought he was. He
pulled his hands into the sleeves of the duffel coat. For a moment,
he felt like a little boy again. Blameless.
She climbed the stairs to her flat and then lay in bed until the
sun came up, trying to pathologize what had happened, thinking
it would be better to be sick than at the mercy of such mystical
forces as love.
Untitled
by Juls Generic
Elliot wrote poems on fridges, sometimes. In the fall, after
Montreal had come and gone and left her breathless and
confused, when she spent evenings on the couch and drank
long cups of tea and hated, hated, hated the cold, she wrote
poems on the fridge with magnets while the coffee was brewing.
The poems were limited, because all the words were unchangably
erotic.
SheRespectsHerOrgasms;
NightimeSweepingFast
HipsTightlyTogether
DrippedLove.
HoldPleasurelnPosition
AslfltHadMotelFear
KissMorning.FeelVirgin
They all had to be about sex. Once she wrote a real clever one
about masturbation, which Olivia liked.
"How was Montreal?" they asked her. Everyone did.
"Good times, bad times. I met a girl on PCP at the Forgotten Rebels show. She had a kitten and her boyfriend looked like
Morrissey. We met poor musician types with class consciousness.
I didn't speak French to one real French person the whole time,
except the cab drivers. They smoke really long cigarettes and
throw them out half-way."
Nuances. It was all nuances.
She didn't make love on the proverbial bridge that brought
together the anglophones and francophones in perfect Canadian
harmony until she was back in Vancouver. He read her poems as
he drank the coffee she made him.
"What's this? G-spot?"
Language barrier. Fucking swoon.
Blue's Tragic Tales
by Theresa McWhirter
Back in the city, Blue slept on Carrotgirl's couch, until the cat
began to lose its fur Then for a week she slept in the jam
space of the old wooden band house. After a few lucrative
drug deals and stolen appliances easily pawned, she and Hannah
moved into the top of a red-shingled house occupied by two punk
bands and a graffiti artist who painted a mural all the way up the
front walk. The house was owned by a whore who had become too
old to be a hooker and decided to run a flophouse instead.
Blue had grown up wild and barefoot. At fifteen she had got
her diploma on welfare and worked under the table in a restaurant
death pit. Her dad was long gone and her mom didn't much care.
One day Blue had got on a bus and just kept traveling. She'd stop
back in town with stories over the years: squatting in Montreal,
the tour in Texas with an anarchist band, Mexico with an angel boy
who left her with a bag of tattered cloth. She'd hitchhiked across
whole countries and learned how to sleep outdoors well hidden,
struggled alone in hard cities like a bit of colored glass. Sometimes
she'd call her friends late at night and swear this time she was
gone for good.
"Home is where you end up," Blue told Carrotgirl, to explain
why she never stayed away for long. Over the years, her
possessions had slowly diminished. All she owned now was a
wooden chessboard and a shelf of shot glasses. What Blue really
collected were the stories of strangers.
They shared a bottle of Blue Nun and talked about Gritboy
still doing card tricks in the bar for pitchers of beer, about the
girls Jake dated. Carrotgirl asked why Blue and Jake hadn't stayed
together. Blue thought for a moment. "I kept losing the plot," she
finally answered.
Later, she met Jake in a coffee shop. They talked of surfing,
lost love, suicide. The middle-aged waitress had a rose tattoo on
her ankle under her pantyhose. She wearily poured their third
cups of coffee. "The more you want, the more you suffer," Jake
said. Blue watched his fingers play with his necklace of charms.
"Are you coming to the party or not?" he asked.
"Yeah," Blue said. "It's time to get high."
At the party, Blue watched Jake try to pick up a girl with unruly
eyebrows. He resented it when Blue interrupted his conversation
to ask for a beer. She sat with her spitefulness in the corner,
drained drink after drink then went home with two cokehead
Marxists who talked politics all night and ran out of drugs too
early.
The next morning Blue tripped on her baggy pants walking
into the restaurant. "Cutie," the waiter said, swinging past.
Carrotgirl read the horoscopes solemnly and said her boyfriend
had written a song about her falling down the stairs drunk in a club
and breaking her nose. He was chicken breast blonde and wore a
horseshoe pinkie ring on his left hand.
Carrotgirl had begun to speak to the moon. Blue fiddled with
her eyebrow ring and looked around the restaurant. "What kind
of a fucking life is this," she said. Carrotgirl looked quietly out
the window. A few more hours until they started drinking for the
night. They licked their dry lips.
"Break out the omelet in me," Blue'warbled later in the bar.
No one, not even Jake, could capture how she burned, the shabby
glamour of a drunken diva. How she commanded whole tables
with her stories and charming cackles. Hours later she staggered
home with a group of boys. They bought drugs in the alley for a
mishmash party. Blue forgot she'd ever felt tired.
The next day she woke up in the fading afternoon, spiky-
haired and not quite sober. Outside she saw the old hooker sitting
on a lawn chair. Her feet rested on the cooler in sparkling red
shoes like a middle-aged Dorothy with aching ankles.
Blue put on her bikini top and stepped onto the balcony. She
arranged herself under the umbrella like an absinthe drinker in
repose. "How are you, Mrs. Jones?" she called.
Mrs. Jones lifted her fat arm and waved. •
Trish Kelly self-publishes the zine Makeout Club. Issue #13 is out
as you read this, and available at Magpie and better news stands
everywhere.
Juls Generic is one half of the local group The Juls and Kahla
Collective. Go see them.
Teresa McWhirter's first book, Some Girls Do is published by
Polestar Books. She is hard at work on her next one.
EXCELLENT AT REVENGE
NINETY MINUTES WITH TERESA MCWHIRTER
by Chris Eng
1 talked to Teresa McWhirter for an hour and a half, and it was
all interesting. All of her digressions into politics, the media,
and the politics of the media were gripping. But ninety
minutes doen't fit neatly into a nice, little box, so here's about
ten minutes of that conversation. If you want to hear the rest,
you should introduce yourself and chat. She's nice, and likes
good music. Buy her a beer while you're at it. She deserves it.
Can you actually make a living off of your writing?
Hardly. Nah, 1 wouldn't say that. I think I can get by all right.
Really, it's pretty hard to make a living off any art, though, even
if it's good.
Yeah, that's true. As far as writing about punks goes, there's
a genuine dearth... that stems from the stigma that if you're
getting published anywhere outside, like, a zine venue, you're
selling out. Has that affected you? Where do you stand on
that?
I don't know, I've never been anything but broke, so I guess
1 don't have an opinion. I know what you're saying, though.
I know Kinnie Starr, from Victoria, and they wrote her up in
the Georgia Straight—which, for the record, I think is a really
shitty paper—but they asked her the same questions and she
basically said we need more tools to reach people out of our
peer group, which is true, [because] the whole idea that if you're
getting paid for what you do you've sold out is what kind of
keeps things underground. But now I think times are changing,
because there's just so much crap everywhere. It's just gotta
change, really.
Have you been stigmatized at all by the fact that you've had a
book published?
No, I don't think so, because I haven't made any money. I
don't think I've really changed, like, "Yeah, I got a pair of new
shoes..."
The money you've made doesn't have anything to do with
it—it's the perception.
Yeah... yeah. I don't think it's changed at all because, I mean,
writing's pretty solitary and I don't think you're doing it so you
can get up on a stage and have people recognize you. If that
started to happen, that would change me more than anything, I
think. I don't know. 1 think the only really meaningful art comes
from people with no money. So, in that way, I'm happy to be
poor, if I get to keep writing good stories.
It just contributes to that wealth of experience you can use...
Yeah, it does. But it would be nice to pay your bills—you know,
that kind of thing.
Yeah, what's that old saying? "If you're not rebelling by 20,
you've got no soul, and if you're not corporate by 30, you've
got no brain." But there's a fine line somewhere between the
two...
Yeah, it's a lot more romantic to be dirt poor at 25 than at 35,
you know? And you don't really see that many old punks here—1
guess not as much as in other places. Larry from the Real
McKenzies is one of my roommates, and they always travel in
Europe. And I've been there, but I guess I was too young to really
know what was going on. Still, it seems that there's a lot more
old punks there—like Berlin, have you been there?
No.
That's what I hear, 'cause the punk scene there has been going
on for so much longer. I'd like to see that.
It seems like in North America, punk is a transitional thing-
it's something you do when you're young, and then you grow
out of it, get over it, whatever.
Yeah, that's true. I can see that.
There's not as much emphasis on the politics, or politics as a
lifestyle, so much as an edgy attitude.
That's so true. My friend was telling me she lived in Amsterdam
for a while and they have organized squats there, you know,
where you've got a bunch of punks that take over an abandoned
building. We don't have that kind of unity here. I keep hoping
that maybe things will change...
Was there anything that made you want to be a writer?
Wow, that's a good one. I don't know, I guess 1 just like words.
You know, I was a pretty small, sickly little kid, right, so I think I
just read a lot of books, and then I guess I used my imagination
when 1 was really young and realized I could put myself in all the
stories that 1 was reading, you know what 1 mean? And when
that clicks in your head, then you can amuse yourself anywhere.
Then I just really started to write them down. And I took writing
at UVic because I didn't know what else to do—I just like to read
books. I'm like, "Yeah, I could do that! Fuckin' A!"
So you just sort of felt that you should go to university?
Well, 1 went to Europe, and that was good, 1 bummed around
there, and then I didn't know what else to do, and I had a bit of
a scholarship so I'm like, "Fuck, why not?" School's a good place
for people that don't really want to work, don't wanna be out
in the real world—you know what I mean? There's lifers there.
UVic's bad for that—you've got people that have been there for
ten years getting involved in student politics. I guess you get to
fuck around—I like school, but when I was done, I was done.
You weren't gonna spend any more time than you had to?
Hell, no. Well, the writing department is good there, but it's
more the people that go there, not the profs. I can't even tell you
how many profs failed me there. When my next book comes out
and it's really good, I'm gonna send them all a copy.
So, there's a certain revenge aspect there?
All writers are excellent at revenge, [laughs evilly] It's true, we all
have long memories.
For me it was: [in evil growl] "I can't wait to go back to my high
school reunion."
No doubt. I went to mine—it was the greatest thing I ever did.
It was fun. People change a lot in ten years. Like the people you
always suspected would be cool kinda turned out that way. And
the people that peaked at 17—they're still wearing their grad
jackets...
The "coolest kids in class"?
Yeah. Not the case any more.
In your writing, you jump back and forth between prose poetry
and really staccato, straight prose. Is there a style that you
prefer more?
Well, that book took a long time to write, because actually, I
wrote it as a novel, rewrote it as short stories, then rewrote it
again as a linked short story/novel. I started it in UVic, in the
writing program, and I was pretty sick of straight narratives,
because it's all you study in English. I just felt that these
characters hadn't ever really been described before, and I
couldn't do it in a straight, traditional way, so it was almost
like the content dictated the form. That's how it came to be
written that way. And this one right now is just a straight, linear
narrative, and it's brutal! It's really hard to write like that. What
we're doing as writers now is kind of documenting the times,
and so, as this is a unique time, I think the stories have to be
told in a different way. I think that's why I played around with
the form a lot.
It's true, though, you know, there are things in the world today
that can't be described in a straight-ahead "He did this, he
went there, he did this, he met her" way.
Yeah, well, there's no denying that we've been corrupted by TV
and a fast food mentality in our culture. I think people read less
now—I don't know if that's true, but if you ask any poet that,
they'll say it is.
People read less poetry, for sure. When I introduced the lead
feature in DiSCORDER a few months ago, one of my friends
asked me "Do people actually read?" And I can't ask myself
that question, because I have to believe that people do,
otherwise what am I doing it for?
[reassuringly] They do, they do.
This is my chosen profession and I love words, and maybe less
people are reading, but there are still some people that are
reading.
Yeah, and that's who you're writing for. And you've got an even
harder job now, because people trust the media less and less,
and for good reason. It's pretty disturbing in this city when
you've got the Province and the Sun all owned by CanWest
Global—you can't believe what you read—and you've got the
college papers, which traditionally are not corporate-sponsored
so they have a little bit more room to tell the truth. I used to
write for the Nerve—1 used to write more political newspieces
for them, but they don't want that. They say that their readers
don't want it; I think they're wrong. Still, what can you do?
Well, there's a really good question—how do you actually get to
the truth any more?
1 guess that's where punk comes in, right? •
11 DiSCORDER JUSTASCHMOE
HE MAY BE WORKING TOWARD A PhD. BUT
MANITOBA'S DAN SNAITH DENIES THE
CHARGES OF GENIUS
Interview by saelan
PP
Dundas, Ontario's Dan Snaith (aka Manitoba) first grabbed the
international spotlight in 2001 when his debut full-length,
Start Breaking My Heart, turned Boards of Canada's weapons
against them, creating something completely fresh and invigorating
out of the familiar elements of millennial IDM. He won Electronic
Album of the Year at the 2002 Canadian Independent Music Awards
and went on to play at CMJ in New York and headline the sickeningly
cool SONAR Festival in Barcelona. He's since toured five continents
and relocated to London, England, releasing an EP with new tracks
and remixes from Start Breaking My Heart, a limited 12" of UK
garage-inspired dance tracks, and finally a new full-length LP entitled
Up In Flames—ali of this while (almost unbelievably) managing to
work on a PhD in pure mathematics.
The new album shows Manitoba making what appears to be a
striking shift in style. He's deepened his trademark layers of rich,
innovative percussion while trading his Boards of Canada and Aphex
Twin influences for an aesthetic borrowed from the spaced-out
psychedelic pop of My Bloody Valentine, Mercury Rev, The Flaming
Lips, and the Elephant 6 collective. This comes as less of a surprise
for those fans familiar with his roots, however—Dan Snaith is fond of
talking about his hometown, the small Ontario burg of Dundas, where
he was trained as a classical pianist and jazz drummer. Manitoba's
allegiances have never really been to the chin-stroking masses of the
techno underground, either—this is a man who once told the press
that he doesn't "give a fuck about the electronic music scene." Always
a man to blaze his own trail, he has also abandoned the tired practice
of performing with a laptop, and is currently touring as a three-piece
band with two drummers, glockenspiel, guitar, theremin, vocals, and
a mind-bending visual display that annihilates the stereotype of the
boring laptop performer.
You named a song after the town you grew up in—in what ways does
your music reflect your life in Dundas?
Dundas was full of weirdos and acid casualties. I guess I just met a
lot of really interesting, open-minded people there. We were all really
into freaked-out music and that's probably what I have to thank for
being such a music-obsessed lunatic now. Plus, I'd never have spent 5
hours watching a Zeppelin DVD if I'd grown up in Toronto.
Are you still in contact with Miss J [high school music teacher]? I
understand she spends her time listening to music so experimental
and academic it makes John Zorn look like SO Cent— but she likes
your stuff.
She came to our concert in Toronto, which was wicked. I have a lot
to thank her for. I was going to drop music class in Grade Ten and
she literally wouldn't let me. I've been really lucky in that I've had a
lot of amazing music teachers throughout my life who got me into
practicing for hours and hours each day and shit. I don't ever play
anything on a piano with more than one finger these days, but I'm
sure it's all in there somewhere! 1 think John Zorn does look like 50
Cent—minus some of the tattoos.
I'm told you played in a nine-piece funk band called the Cro-nasal
Sapiens in high school. True?
Fact. We were the honkiest bunch cf crackers you've ever fucking
12 July 2003
Has working on a PhD in pure mathematics concurrently with your
music career been difficult to coordinate, in terms of time and
intellectual investment? Is it something you're still working on?
Yeah, I've got a year and a half left to go in my PhD. It's completely
hectic trying to do both of these things. I don't get to sleep or talk to
people any more but it's all worth it when the lights come up and you
get to yell "Hello, Cleveland."
There's a lot of talk about your shift from straight electronic music
to a more organic rock/pop-influenced mode. How much of the
instrumentation on Up In Homes is synthesized and how much is
real?
It's about the same as the last album. Half of it is samples off records
(all the drums, horns, etc.) and half of it's me playing instruments
(keyboards, guitars, percussion, other shit). A lot of people assume
that the reason this album sounds so different is because it's played
'more live' or with a band or something. That's not true—it's made in
exactly the same way as the first one. It's more the choices of samples
and sounds that I used that made it a different sounding album.
Do you have any idea how many different instruments you actually
played on Up In Flames?
There are about 100-400 samples in each track and about half of
those are recorded by me. There's basically an enormous amount of
shit bunged in there that you can't even really hear because there's so
much stuff going on. More stuff than I can keep track of, anyway!
So if you're a musical prodigy and a math whiz, some people might
call you a genius...
Hell, no. You've got to do something really special to deserve that kind
of praise. I'm just a schmoe.
Do you see your music as something you do for yourself, or as
I definitely do it completely for myself, first and foremost. For as long
as I can remember, playing and listening to and recording music has
made me really excited and happy and that's why I do it all the time.
I don't really care whether it even gets released or not—I'd be doing
exactly the same thing one way or the other. That being said, it's
really fucking nice when people like it.
All your music, diverse as it is from album to album, has this
character of wonder and wide-eyed bliss. Are you a really happy
person, or is there some other motive?
I think it has to do with my last answer. Even if I come home super
pissed off, making music is the way of becoming happy again. This
album was a real escapist sort of thing—London's a grimy, grimy
city and it was a way of escaping all that and making some really
euphoric shit.
How do you look at If Assholes Could Fly This Place Would Be An
Airport? Was it just a one-off? A transition? An experiment? What
is "this place" that has so many assholes in it?
I did a laptop show for a year and a half that was more dancey—the
kind of thing on that 12-inch, and I wanted to release something as a
document of that. I really think of it as totally separate to the stuff on
the albums. Maybe I should have put it out under a different name—1
just couldn't be bothered to think one up! London's full of fashionable
hipster assholes. There are lots of nice people here too, though.
A lot of electronic musicians like to release material under
different names. You're kind of conspicuous for not doing that,
even though your material varies pretty widely, stylistically. Any
particular reason for keeping things under one moniker? Any plans
for side projects?
I keep answering the questions before 1 get to them! I don't really
have a plan at all. At the moment I've got so much to do that I
probably won't be doing any side projects for a while. I really want
to get my shit together and make a bunch of killer albums while I'm
still young and haven't started embarrassing myself with shitty world
music collaborations and shit like that that old musicians always do.
I've gotta get some shit out before that starts happening.
It seems like a lot of electronic musicians have really embraced
melody and pop elements in the last few years. Aside from yourself,
I'm thinking of people like Four Tet, Mum, Dntel and the Postal
Service, Styrofoam, Lali Puna, The Notwist, the whole Morr music
roster, just about. Do you feel any particular community with these
No. Apart from Four Tet and the first Mum album I don't really like
any of that music.
What can you tell me about Koushik [who contributes vocals to
several songs on Up In Flames], aside from the fact that he's also
from Dundas?
He's got the best ears for music on anyone I've ever met. He's going to
blow people's minds with his music if people pay attention. He knows
more shit about music than anyone I've ever met, and I've met a lot
of music nerds! He works in a mental hospital in the forest. I've heard
he's going by the name Musto Snugs at the moment.
I've heard this tour's been going really well for you—your tour
manager has fifties stuffed in every pocket of his cargo pants and
David Bowie wants to be on the guest list in New York. Is success
changing the way you see your music and career? Has it affected
your plans for the future?
Wow! You really have the inside track from someone, just to set the
record straight: David Bowie didn't show (although David Byrne did)
and the fifties in the pockets all went towards paying for four airfares
from London. I'd love to make a living out of music and it definitely
is possible, but it's really, really hard and really unpredictable. At the
end of the day it's really nice to make music but not have to rely on it
to pay the bills.
What's in the future for Manitoba?
I'm already itching to start recording the next album. I've already got
so many ideas on the go that it's driving me nuts. There's more touring
this summer (mostly festivals and then out to the west coast) and
remixes and stuff but my first priority is to get making music again. I'm
just getting started—the next album's gonna be the killer. • HUMAN JUKEBOX
TALKING TO YO LA TENGO'S JAMES MCNEW
Interview by Merek Cooper. Photo and illustration by Andrea Nunes
After all this time, do Yo La Tengo really need an
introduction? Probably not, but for all those slow learners
out there, I'll give you one anyway so you can all catch up.
Formed in 1984 by Ira Kaplan and Georgia Hubley, Yo La Tengo
quickly established that all-important indie credibility by etching
out an endearing collection of albums, each one better than the
last. Influences include Velvet Underground, Big Star, cliche,
cliche, blah, blah blah...
Oh fuck it, I'll just say that 1 spoke to bass player/odd job
man James McNew shortly before their Vogue show last month,
where some of the highlights included a spontaneous cover of
"Dreaming" by Blondie, a collaboration with members of Flying
Nun groundbreakers The Clean, and Ira's flailing feedback
heroics.
DiSCORDER: So, why did you call the record Summer Sun? When
did you record it?
James McNew: We recorded it in October and November of last
year. I think the title came after everything else was done; it
probably came from hearing the words to the songs that we had
just written. There were a lot of consciously unrelated references
to seasons and summer and things like that. I don't know, I guess
we came up with that and the image on the cover pretty much at
the same time. And I think we liked the juxtaposition of the image
and the title, it was appealing to us.
And you recorded it in Nashville?
We did, that's right. We've made our last several records in
Nashville.
Is there a particular reason for that? Is it the studio or just the
producer you're working with?
It's the producer, he lives there. We made the record Painful with
him in 1993 and at that time he lived in Hoboken, New Jersey.
But after that he and his family moved down to Nashville and
we really wanted to work with him again, and we just realized it
would be so much more feasible for us to go to him rather than to
fly him up to New York. It was so much easier to go to Nashville,
because the whole city is made of recording studios.
Is it a weird vibe down there?
It pretty great, actually. It's a vastly mis-described city, I think.
It's an amazing place. There is glitzy, crappy, country stuff
everywhere, well not everywhere, but... It's also got an incredible
array of restaurants and cultures and markets and things. And a
really heavy musical history as well—it's not just country, some
amazing rock records and soul records have come from there.
And, obviously, Lambchop is from there.
•n't you?
Yeah, we've known them a pretty long time now, which is great
because there's like 20 of them so we immediately have 20
friends in Nashville. They are our hosts when we're there; we stay
at their houses and they're our guides to the city. They have a lot
to be proud of. If I ever had the chance to take a vacation, I would
probably go back there and check it out when I wasn't working.
Getting back to the album—to me it seems that you've taken a
more jazzy, almost fusion direction this time.
I don't know. Fusion to me just seems so noodly and wanky and
technical. I know what you mean, but as far as terminology goes,
ugh, it makes my skin crawl.
I had actually absentmindedly written down in my notes that
the album sounded "mellower." Then I read The Georgia Straight
interview where you said you absolutely hate that term.
[Laughs] Yeah, I do. Playing quietly and playing loud are two things
that we always have done. Even during our most intense records
or gigs there are still always quiet songs in there somewhere. It's
always been a part of our personality. We don't question it, really.
If it feels natural to us then we follow it. I mean, we recorded 16 or
18 songs for this record; there were three or four that were really
raging and just really loud. We thought they were good but we
didn't think they fit in with the bigger picture of the album.
I need to ask you about the Nuclear War EP; the children you got
to sing on that, how did you find them?
[Laughs] They're all either related to us or they're the kids of our
friends. So it was an in-house production, more or less, as far as
the kids are concerned.
So you didn't have to ask strangers to let you have their children
sing words like "motherfucker'' and "ass."
[Laughs] It'd be pretty hard to have to do that with strangers.
It was hard enough to do that with our relatives. It was a pretty
amazing afternoon. We actually played a concert in New York City
about a month or so ago and had most of them join us. We had
fifteen kids or so on the stage.
Was there anything that particularly inspired you to use children
singers? The Langley Schools Music Project, maybe?
Oh yeah, that's an amazing record. It definitely crossed my mind.
I don't know, I just liked the concept, the idea of it, you know?
There's something that's, like, sweet about it—yet there's also
something that's utterly terrifying about it, too. They have no idea
what they're saying, whether it's just an improper word or the
annihilation of the planet. They're, like, "whatever, we're singing
a song."
The other day, one of my friends told me that you sold a song to
Starbucks. He maintains that you sold out. Is this true?
We composed music for Starbucks.
Oh, in my opinion, that's completely different to selling a hit song.
You did that for Coca Cola, too, didn't you?
We did one commercial, yeah, I think that may have been shown
for, like, a week. Yeah, I mean there was definitely conflict over the
Starbucks thing that we did. I know that it's a giant global heartless
evil corporation, but, you know, it was for a drink that really wasn't
that good. It was for their little Frappuccino drinks,.I can't say that
1 was a fan, but it was a really fun art project to actually be scoring
these really fun animated ads, and we were basically allowed to do
anything we wanted. The music was ail instrumental and largely
electronic—it was really fun to do. Scoring is something that we
always wanted to try and it was really fun.
I wanted to ask you about the human jukebox event you do for
WFMU in East Orange, New Jersey?
Yeah, we do it every year. We've done it six times now, I think.
And that's a college radio station?
It's not really even a college radio station anymore. It used to be a
college radio station but the college itself went out of business, and
the only thing that was left was the radio station.
So you decided to do some fundraising for them?
Well, they have a fundraiser every year, like a marathon listener
drive where people call in and pledge money. Erm, because, you
know, it's a completely non-commercial station. And it's such a
great cause so wego on the air live for, like, two hours and make
idiots of ourselves. People call in and pledge money and make a
request.
Can it be any song or do they have to choose from a list?
Anything.
And you just run with it, playing it off the top of your head?
Yes.
What was the weirdest request?
Err, they're all pretty weird, really, when it comes down to it. Some
of them we know, but mostly we don't know any of them so we
just have to play away at it, see what happens and approximate the
song as much as we can. Even if it's only for 30 seconds, we'll give
it our best shot.
Have any songs worked out really well and you ended up keeping
them?
We kept a few. There were a few that people called in that we
actually kept and started doing at shows. We were doing "You Sexy
Thing" for a while. That was pretty exciting. [Laughs] And, err...
"Don't You Want Me." We played that at someone's wedding after
playing it at WFMU. There were lots of them; I think we've come
close to playing every song that's ever been written. Well, we've
probably come closer than most other bands. [Laughs]
So you're obviously a big supporter of college radio?
Oh yeah, I think stations like WFMU and other college stations are
really all that's left of radio, period. I was a DJ at school and that was
an amazing experience for me. It blew my mind wide open to every
kind of music there is.
Another thing I really wanted to tell you was that when my
girlfriend and I first met, we basically fell in love listening to your
music.
Aww, that's sweet.
How does that make you feel?
It makes me feel great.
Do people tell you these things often?
Sometimes, yeah. No, I mean that makes me feel great. You know,
there's definitely music that's that evocative for me, too. And that's
really special.
Yeah, I mean, that's what you set out to do when you form a band.
Well, hopefully anyway.
Yeah, that's totally something to aspire to, without a doubt. I'd
rather do that than, you know, sell SUVs or whatever. That means
infinitely more to me. •
13 DiSCORDER   INTIMIDATED BY POETRY
FOLK ARTIST CHRISTINE FELLOWS EXPLAINS WHY
SHE'S NOT ALLOWED TO DO YOGA
Interview by Kat Siddle, Photo by Chris Boyce
PP
Christine Fellows has been part of Winnipeg's independent
music scene since 1993. In 2000, Canada was quietly graced
by the release of her first solo album, the beautiful and
unsettling Two Little Birds, which was followed by The Last One
Standing in 2002. If you were lucky enough to find standing room
at the Railway Club in May, you would have seen her sing songs
about cats accompanied by Veda Hille and John K. Sampson. She
likes cats. She likes birds. She hates joggers.
DiSCORDER: Are you working on any projects right now?
Christine Fellows: 1 just finished a dance score that I was recording
for the last six months of my life, and now I'm going to try to write
music for my own record. A pop record.
So you will release a third album sometime?
Yeah, if 1 don't crack up before the end of the process ... sometime
next year.
On your most recent song, "Face Down Feet First", you seem to be
heading in a new direction, heading for a new sound.
I'm embarrassed that you heard that! But I guess I did put it up
on the website ... I hope it's a new sound. That recording was
kind of a fluke. I'd just written this goofy little song, and then I
went to Toronto, where Tim Vesely of the Rheostatics said "let's
record that weird little song." So I recorded it, and then he put all
the other extra stuff on it and mailed it to me. And when I got it I
cried, it was so nice.
I understand that you were involved with something called
"Trains of Winnipeg''. What exactly was that?
It's a spoken word CD project. The poet, Clive Holden—he actually
hails from Victoria—he approached myself, John Sampson, and
Jason Tait—you know, from the Weakerthans—wanting us to
make the music for this project. It was really fun. I didn't know
what to expect. I was super-busy at the time we were making
that, so I wasn't really present for a lot of it. When I heard the
end result, I was pretty impressed. He's a hard-working poet, that
guy. He was just in Germany at some crazy festival reading his
16 July 2003
poetry. Who knew that poetry's so big there? The Germans Jove
it. It's fun—I like doing stuff like that. 1 ended up using a lot of the
musical ideas from that project in my own work.
The projects you're involved in—like spoken word or scores for
dance—often use mixed media.
Poetry intimidates me. Spoken word as well, sort of. But I've
experimented with it—my first record had a spoken word piece
on it that I didn't write. Dance is something that I can't even
understand at all. It's really interesting to go and collaborate
there. It's so abstract.
I always think that dancers are just a totally different species of
human beings.
They are! And they're hard-drinking, hard-living people! And
they all smoke, they all chain smoke. They're worse than most
musicians that I know.
That's weird, cause it's such a physical profession. It's like
catching your yoga instructor smoking.
There's this yoga school in Winnipeg where they won't let you go
if you're a smoker. So i can't go. I wanted to do yoga, I wanted to
better myself, but alas.
Do you see yourself writing music for film anytime soon?
Well, I've been commissioned to do a film score, but they're still
working on the script. I did one for television this year, for CBC—
this reality series about immigration called Landed.
I noticed that when people review your albums, they often
assume that all your songs are about lost love. Do you think
people interpret your songs correctly?
I don't know. You know, the funniest, most interesting experience
I had with that was in the Yukon, when I toured and played at the
Frostbite Festival in February. I was touring these communities
and there'd be kids there that don't get a lot of exposure to music.
And the kinds of questions they would ask me—really intelligent
questions about specific lyrics or song ideas. It was really surprising
to me. I guess if you're a reviewer and you do that for a living, you
have kind of a recipe that you follow. It's unavoidable.
What's with all the bird imagery in your lyrics and cover art?
What does the bird mean?
I don't know. I like them. There's more songs on the way that have
birds in them. Maybe in my forties I'll be a bird watcher. I have bird
moments. It's hard to explain. I walk the dog in the woods a lot and
listen to them. Redwing blackbirds make the most beautiful song.
I hear them and think, "I'm totally ripping that off!" I guess I like
them 'cause they're musical animals. And they can fly! And their
little, freaky eyes.
So why Winnipeg? Do you think the city's exploding the way
everyone says it is?
1 think people's perception of it is changing. None of the musicians
I know live there anymore. It's a good place for me to be—I can just
write there and not feel like I have to be performing all the time. If
you're ever feeling really antisocial, that's the place to be. It's also
a good, well-balanced community. Great stuff in a lot of different
mediums. I love Winnipeg winters, too. I know that sounds foolish,
but just grabbing a pair of skates and skating on the river . . . you
feel really hardcore when it's -40 and you still go out. And you
walk down the street and there's eight old ladies waiting for the
bus. Nothing stops, no matter how cold it gets. It's a land of kooks
though. But so is Vancouver. Vancouver is the land of sporto. I feel
guilty when I don't go do the Grouse Grind or walk the seawall. But
joggers, ew! We don't have them in Winnipeg. We're not allowed.
As a dog walker, I hate those scourges. I'm into the dog culture. You
can go see people at the dog park and you won't know the person's
name, but you'll know their dog's name. You talk about your dogs
and it's so civilized. It's not even small talk. It's really deep.
Deeper than when people talk about their children?
Oh yeah.
Thanks for coming out.
Thank you. You are sweet and kind. • ANTI-ELECTROCLASH
HARDCORE WAVE
MONEEN HIT THE ROAD AND PLOT THEIR
DEATHS BY JELL-0
Interview and photo by Kimberley Day
PP
From opening shows for Another Joe in London, Ontario to
headlining a cross-Canada tour upon signing to Vagrant,
Toronto's Moneen has exploded onto the music scene,
without anyone really knowing what was happening. 1 spent a
couple of hours with an extremely chatty Kenny (guitar, vocals),
later joined by Pete (drums), to discuss the band's growing
popularity, rigorous touring schedule, and their latest album,
Are We Really Happy With Who We Are Right Now? released on
Smallman records in Canada and Vagrant records in the US.
DiSCORDER: How has your western Canadian tour been going?
Kenny: It's been very very very very very very very good. We didn't
know what to expect at all, we had no idea. We've always had fun
touring across Canada, but we always go at different times, so,
you know, you go at the end of the year when school's out, who
knows how it's going to be. You go in the summer: people are
usually away. You go in the winter: it's pretty safe to say that most
people are going to be around. You never know, there are always
factors involved so it's always a gamble. But this tour has been so
consistent, every show has been awesome. It's been really fun; it's
past the point now of most of the audience being a new audience.
Most people now know our music pretty well, so it makes it so
much more fun. People are singing along, and they know a little
bit of what to expect, so if I start attacking people, people are like,
"Oh, that's cool, that's cool." It's funny, because we had no idea
what to expect for this tour or this album, or anything. We didn't
really put much thought into it because there's been so much going
on. Everything that we worked to put together for Canada—now
we have to do double that for the States. Everything we do is now
expanded, which is really, really cool. The shows have been crazy.
Last night was really good—there were a lot of people there. I
couldn't believe how many people were there. I had a lot of fun.
I'm looking forward to tonight, because 1 was kind of broken down
yesterday. We'd just done too many long drives right after each
other; we had no sleep. I'm caught on the verge of sickness, which
I usually always am on tour. I'm fighting it. Last night I had fun, but
I felt, personally, I could have given more.
With your new album, "Are We Really Happy With Who We Are
Right Now," how has the fan response been? Have you felt any
negative vibes or backlash from anyone now that you've signed
to Vagrant?
Kenny: You know what's crazy? There hasn't been any of that yet.
I know there will be.
Pete: It's probably out there right now—we just don't see it.
Kenny: I almost don't think it is. There obviously have to be some
people, but for the most part 1 think that people are genuinely
happy for us. It's not like we sold our souls to get there. We
toured for a long time, and it kind of naturally just came out of
nowhere. We kept it on the down low—we didn't make a big
deal out of it. It was just like, "Moneen's touring here, here, here,
signed to Vagrant, touring here, here, here." People were just like,
"Whoa, what was that?" We didn't shove it in anyone's face, and
we didn't go around saying, "Yeah, we're on Vagrant now, man.
Yeah." I'm totally surprised that there hasn't been some kind of a
backlash. When I found out it had been released on the internet,
I was thinking, "Okay, here it comes," but then we got all of these
emails saying, "Congratulations, that's wicked." To me, it seems
like people who have known us for a long time, and have been
coming to shows have been thinking, "We did it! We did it!"
rather than, "Oh, they're going to leave us behind now." It's more
like an accomplishment that we've all gone through from the
start. We haven't really changed since the first time we played
the Brickyard, or played anywhere on our first tour. I still do the
same stupid things, and make the same bad jokes. We're generally
the same people. I think the thing is that we put out the right
album—we didn't stray too far from what we sounded like. I've
been thinking it's a good mix in between the EP and Theory. It's got
some of the artsy, weird delay, spacey parts from Theory, and then
it's got the more straight ahead rock from the EP. It's probably the
record that people thought we were going to release right after
the EP, but then we kind of threw some people through a loop with
Theory, because some of it was different. But it's cool, because 1
think we stuck out from a lot of the other Canadian bands. I think
now that we have this record, people don't have to change with it.
It's kind of like, "All right, it's rockin'. I can groove to this. I can bop
to this. It's pretty cool," which I think is good because we didn't
try to change the world with this record. I think if we had tried,
we would have received a backlash of people saying, "They're on
Vagrant; they're totally changing; they've turned their backs on
Smallman and the rest of Canada." That's the thing: we made sure
to stay with Smallman. There wasn't going to be any other way: we
were going to be with Smallman for this record, or we were going
to kill ourselves. With a SPOON. And JELL-O.
Pete:Jell-0 can be fatal.
Kenny: Get it injected into every pore, so your body just fills up
with Jell-O, and your guts get pushed out your toes and things
because the Jell-O is pushing it all out. Death by Jell-O! That's going
to be our cover band. We do Death By Stereo songs called "Death
by Jell-O" except we don't play any Death By Stereo songs.
Pete: And we sing it like Jello Biafra.
Kenny. We should get backlashed because of the bad jokes.
Did you enjoy recording the new album in LA?
Pete and Kenny: [singing] We're going to California, gonna live the
life, sippin' on tequila night after night...
Kenny. California was amazing. It was the coolest thing we could have
done, to go record there. We recorded in the mountains north of LA,
and it was so amazing out there. Totally secluded from everything.
We were able to really focus.
Pete: Serene, no crime.
No plans to run off to LA to live, though, right?
Kenny: I almost kind of want to hang there, but as long as we get to
visit lots, that would be cool. But, if we don't get to visit, I may buy a
box somewhere north of Santa Monica.
Pete: They don't have the health care, man!
Kenny That's true. It's a great place to visit, but I don't want to live
there. I'm happy where 1 am, but it was great.
Well, no w that you're busy recording in remote locations, headlining
shows, and being part of the Vagrant family, is there going to be an
end to your Choke/Moneen combination band, Choneen?
No, it always gets postponed though. Whenever we want to do it,
there's never time. The last time we were going to get together and
do some Choneen was on the Face to Face tour, but our transmission
exploded and we had to leave our van and all of our gear behind.
Everything was against us on that tour. We finished it, but we had to
postpone Choneen again. We'll do it, but we'll have to find the right
I read on your website that in a quest to come up with a terrible
description for Moneen, you have decided to label yourselves
as "aggressive melodic pop." I think that you can come up with
something better than that.
Kenny: Okay, we'll go word for word. Happy.
Pete: Melodic.
Kenny Angry.
Pete: Harmonic.
Kenny Loud.
Pete: Plutonic.
Kenny Quiet.
Pete: I ran out of "-onic" words... Sonic.
Kenny: Anti-Electroclash Hardcore Wave!!! We're everything to dirt
that other people are to rocks. •
17 DiSCORDER 6
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Milder review
recorded media
ANBERUN
Blueprints For The Black
Market
(Tooth & Nail Records)
In the liner notes, Anberlin
gives thanks to "Jesus Christ,
for without you nothing is possible." Yes, let us praise the
Lord for allowing this collection
of "alternative rock" songs,
which sport production slicker
than a teenage boy's forehead and hooks weaker than
a Jimmy Eat World or Third
Eye Blind record, to come into
being. Bart Simpson is right:
all the best bands are affiliated
with Satan.
Neil Braun
BONOBO
Dial "M" For Monkey
(Ninja Tune)
Following    up    on    Bonobo's
much-hailed debut, Animal
Magic, Dial "M" For Monkey
continues in much the same
vein with its clever, sample-
based grooves and textures
that suggest a composer with
a healthy musical appetite,
a varied record collection,
assorted musical instruments,
and a well-used sampler. How
does this stand apart from the '
plethora of other productions
which use a similar modus
operandi? I'm not sure, but it
does—and for that it deserves
your listening attention. All hail
the monkey.
DJ Satyricon
CINEMATIC ORCHESTRA
Man With the Movie Camera
(Ninja Tune)
It was inevitable. When you
have a name like Cinematic
Orchestra, it is only a matter of
time before someone asks you
to provide a musical soundtrack
to a film. In this case, The Porto
Film Festival in Portugal commissioned a musical soundtrack
to Dziga Vertov's seminal 1929
montage silent film classic Man
With the Movie Camera. This
particular piece of cinema has
been augmented with numerous musical soundtracks in the-
past; perhaps most memorable
was the Alloy Orchestra's live
performance a few years ago
at the Vancouver International
Film Festival. Even Vancouver's
own Eye of Newt Collective
was recently seen providing
their semi-improvised score
to the same said film at this
year's Jazz Festival. The idea of
providing a musical soundtrack
to a classic silent film is thus
nothing new, and Man With
the Movie Camera is a common choice for such endeavours—given how much it has
indirectly influenced today's
music videos.
Having not yet seen the
DVD   of  the   film   with   CO's
18 July 2003
soundtrack, I cannot comment
on how well this particular
soundtrack works in conjunction with the images. As a collection of music standing on
its own, though, I can say that
it will not disappoint fans of
CO's previous efforts. In fact,
some of the themes will sound
rather familiar: they appeared
in slightly different arrangements on last year's Everyday
album and as part of their live
repertoire for some time now.
However, one can hear in the
new arrangements how the
band has evolved from being a
sampled-based studio creation
into a real, flesh and blood live
unit breathing renewed life
and vigor into their signature
sound (track). Ironically, for
a soundtrack to a film that is
hailed as a classic example of
montage in cinema, the music
heard here is CO's least sample-based to date. Having said
that, though, I still find myself
reaching back to their debut,
Motion, for its haunting sense
of atmosphere and drama.
For example, the Nina Simone
sample as heard on "Dorian" is
now more poignant then ever
given the great artist's recent
passing. I suppose time will tell
how well CO's soundtrack to
Man With the Movie Camera will
stand up to all the others.
DJ Satyricon
THE GOSSIP
Movement
(Kill Rock Stars)
The market for bluesy garage
rock is heavily saturated these
days, but The Gossip's tried-
and-true formula still stands
as far above the rest on this,
their third album, as it did
on their debut—which, it's
worth noting, dropped around
the same time as The White
Stripes De Stiji, making it one
of the albums that brought
punked-up garage blues back
to the indie scene's attention in
the first place. Movement finds
Beth, Nathan, and Kathy's
riot-grrl style maturing, if not
highly evolved. They're leaner,
meaner, and tighter, but as the
liner notes indicate (this album
was ostensibly recorded on a
"tape player"), they haven't
lost an ounce of the rawness
so essential to the genre.
They've managed to maintain
a gritty realness and genuine
enthusiasm that's generally
lacking among their contemporaries—one that derives
from their firm connection and
dedication to their fanbase. As
a theme, taking care of your
friends arises often; on "Jason's
Basement," Beth moans "we get
by with the people we know,"
and she derides a hipster girl
who values her image over her
friends on "Lesson Learned".
As always, Beth's trademark
blues wail is the real attraction,
and it's obvious from the first
track, "Nite," that her control
over her intensely soulful holler
has only increased with time.
Likewise, Nathan wrenches
stack after stack of monster
riffs from his guitar, exploiting the bass-less potentialities
of the band's dynamic to the
maximum with his masterful
ear for tonality; no one else
can render such simple riffs
with the same awesome savagery as he can. Admittedly,
The Gossip's sonic palette is
limited, but they do plenty
to stretch its limits; Nathan
continues the same feedback
experiments he introduced on
Arkansas Heat's closing track,
"Take Back (Revolution," a
song that was unfortunately
hampered by weak lyrics. On
Movement, however, the same
kind of ragged guitar noise
leads into some of the album's
best tracks, most notably the
awe-inspiring closer, "Light
Light Sleep," which starts out
with Beth moaning "I got troubles, down deep/ I got troubles,
losing sleep," and ends with
her shouting "we don't break
easy!" with enough sincerity to
stiffen the hairs on your neck.
Accordingly, Nathan has said
that this album is intended to
give all boys boners and make
all girls moist in the knickers.
If you're not turned-on by
the breakdown on "Fire/Sign"
when Nathan drops his guitar
an octave and churns out a blis-
teringly distorted Bo Diddley
boogie, or at the end of "All
My Days," when the song dissolves into a punk rock spiritual
composed of just Beth's earnest
croon and handclaps, then The
Gossip probably isn't for you. If
this kind of hip-shaking rock
and roll is up your alley, however, you'll be pleased to know
that The Gossip are also polite
houseguests and don't overstay their welcome. At barely
over half an hour, this album
ends exactly when it should:
before the band's limitations
start to weigh them down, and
just soon enough to leave you
wanting more.
saelan
GREAT LAKE SWIMMERS
s/t
(weewerk)
I grew up on a farm. Northern
Alberta, surrounded by fields
of grain in their own wide open
spaces. The summer nights
lent my soundtrack the voice
of crickets. In the city, the
equivalent might be the sound
of traffic, though not so seasonally specific. Sounds both
immediately recognizable yet
completely indistinct. If you
listen carefully to Great Lake
Swimmers' self-titled debut
offering, you can make out the
sounds of my youth—and perhaps the sound of your own.
But this is only half of
what I heard that made me
feel so unusually serene when
in the auditory company of this
album. It was not the music in
particular, but some pervasive
element of the sound—not
so easily pin-pointed as to be
voice or instrumentation (or
nature). Largely the result of
one man's creativity, T. Dekker
recorded this album in an abandoned grain silo. While it is not
quite an echo that has been
captured, there is an obvious,
intangible warmth as a result.
As an accident of sound (without the negative connotations),
Dekker has crafted something
beautiful indeed. Relatively
sparse instrumentation and
vocals as subtle as daydreams
are layered beneath unintentional, all-permeating, almost
"found" sounds. (Reminds me
of a film I saw once, where a
woman imagined music in the
clinks and clanks of her everyday existence.)
I have this picture in my
head of what the recording
process of this album must
have been; Dekker is seated on
a chair in the center of the silo;
the light that breaks in does so
only onto the guitar partially
hidden by his crunched-over
body; or maybe, when you look
up to the roof, all you can see
is stars through holes worn of
age; and all of this takes place
in a field of ripe canola blossoms. My point being that I cannot describe this sound—this
effect created as a result of the
recording process. Sometimes
words are weak.  Sometimes
Listening again in retrospect—and I do not deny my
romanticism here—it is for
these reasons that Great Lake
Swimmers has such personal
familiarity reflecting from it. It
feels like the earliest memories
of my youth; like the first time
I thought I fell in love; feels like
the space between an utter
adoration of one's parents and
the desire to flee them. This
is music to be consumed by
candlelight, with nostalgia as
your only friend.
sweetcheyanne
HUMAN AFTERTASTE
s/t
(Independent)
Previously, it was only in the
fevered recesses of my brain
that Rob Zombie had any dealings at all with Adam Ant. And
certainly, even in those shadowy
corners of my mind, they didn't
collaborate on music; it was
just Rob Zombie pointing at the
sky, saying, "Hey Adam, look! A
dead bird!" and punching him in
the stomach when he deigned
to look.
This is the musical collaboration I never envisioned.
Adam   Ant,   scarred   by  hor
rific trauma—both mental and
physical—scurries through a
blasted industrial landscape,
providing an exceptionally surrealistic retro experience. And
that's all good.
Because sometimes you
want to dance and get scared
at the same time—which is,
apparently, what happens at
their live shows, where men in
dresses spray the crowd with
large, penis-shaped water-
guns. This isn't documented
on the CD, but they include a
video where a gore-covered
naked girl shambles through
empty corridors while the band
lurks around the next corner,
and, really, that's the next best
thing.
Dance. Be scared. It's good
for you.
Chris En^f
METALLICA
St. Anger
(Elektra)
Shit sandwich.
Chris Eng
SIMIAN
We Are Your Friends
(Source Records UK)
You know things are going
your way when you're not
only a new band starting up in
a new market touring with a
better-known, name-printed-
in-bigger-font-on-tickets act,
but you also turn out to be the
better band of the night. When
Ladytron put out a dismal performance at the Commodore
back in March, their openers,
Simian, knew that the attention will probably soon be on
In their sophomore album,
We Are Your Friends, the
London/Manchester quartet
plays catchy, electronic-infused
pop-rock. The opening track,
"La Breeze", has the Oriental-
style psychedelic flavor that
permeated Simian's 2001
debut, Chemistry Is What We
Are, while the rest of the album
is a collage of cute, delightful
computer rhythms ("Helpless",
"The Way I Live"), thumping,
guitar-oriented choruses (as on
the single, "Never Be Alone"),
and hybrids of keyboard programming and Britpop-esque
melodies ("The Swarm"). They
may not have perfected the
mastery of producing a technically mature concept album d la
OK Computer yet, but Simian's
willingness to explore musical
possibilities and be original
is infinitely encouraging. The
result sounds like a big music
party with four friends (no pun
intended) playing around with
their keyboards and guitars,
being reasonably good at them,
and enjoying themselves tremendously.
"We! Are! Your Friends!
You'll, never be alone again!"
barks singer Simon Ford on
the single, "Never Be Alone."
Enthusiastic, fun, and talented;
who doesn't want friends like
that?
Priscilla Chen (XL/Beggars)
The   Super   Fur
weren't born; they simply
descended from the Welsh
mountains, clutching handfuls
of psychedelic fungi, sporting
huge grins. They then proceeded to show us mere mortals how trailblazing pop music
should be made. Accordingly,
listening to the new album,
Phantom Power, is like a million
suns exploding in your face. But
don't worry—it comes dripping
with gallons of saccharine harmonies that cool and soothe
before the glare of their white-
hot brilliance.
During my time in Canada,
I have noticed that the Super
Furries are not really very well
known here. Honestly, people:
this has to change. Hopefully,
this review will get you started.
Firstly, The Super Furries
are not Brit-pop: they're
Welsh, and while they have,
over the course of their career,
consistently made some of
the best music ever to come
from the British Isles, they're
a completely different beast
altogether. The sort of music
the Super Furry Animals play
is as pop as a fuzzy broadcast
transmission from deep space.
The lead off single, "Golden
Retriever", is a glam rock bullet that heads straight for the
target with ruthless efficiency.
It's a buzzing king snake of a
song, it charms with lines about
devils, roundabouts, puppies,
and zebra crossings. On "Valet
Parking", we head off with lead
singer Gruff for an automobile
adventure in the "Euro Zone";
he's eager to show off the fact
that he's just passed his driving
test, apparently. And "Venus
and Serena" must surely be the
best song ever to be written
about a small girl and her two
pet turtles.
Despite the digital experimentation, their stuff is so
catchy and downright friendly
that they make Vancouver's
own New Pornographers sound
like Einsturzende Neubauten.
And though they have fun with
the pop music medium—making it more interesting than
your little brain can handle—
there are darker forces at
work on this album—"phantom
power," if you will. The Super
Furries preach non-violent
direct action and passive,
cheery resistance—the mind
state of the placid casual (the
name of their label), because, as
a previous song suggests, it's all
"no problem, if you play it cool."
The album reflects the contemporary resistance against the
tremendous, uncontrollable
forces at work in the Zeitgeist.
A vicious, anti-American sentiment seethes through "Liberty
Belle", with Gruff telling of a liberty bell ringing out across the
sea, and that "everyone sings
along, though she's singing way
out of key." He doesn't pull his
punches on Americanization,
telling us that we're all "digging
straight to hell" and "drowning
in our own well," but it's his
sunny  disposition   that  wins
over. Nobody likes a moaner
and the Super Furry Animals
are certainly no moaners—
they're the Gandhi of pop.
When they steal Deep
Purple's drag racer on "Out
Of Control" and head off into
the night in a hail of screeching vocals, it's CNN and the
media of doom that gets it.
Impossibly ludicrous buzzwords are thrown out with
shocking verisimilitude: "Fast
and cheap! Ninja jihad! Suck my
oil! Out of control!" It's all too
frighteningly familiar for anyone not living in a cave these
past couple of months (isn't
that right, Osama? You cheeky
little scallywag...).
But, never fear, times can
improve and underdogs can
triumph, a lesson we learn in
"The Undefeated"—a calypso
swinger inspired by the ability
of the Welsh soccer team to
always find glory in defeat. As
Gruff quite rightly points out,
who wants to never know what
it's like to lose?—"they're so
shallow, the undefeated."
In all honesty, he needn't
worry: after six albums proper,
the Super Furries have gone
six and 0, and remain, quite
literally, the undefeated, the
undisputed.
Merek Cooper
TURBONEGRO
Scandinavian Leather
(Burning Heart/Epitaph)
This album makes me wish 1
were way more pervy than 1
am. Hopefully the Turbojugend
St. Pauli is accepting new
recruits in the fall!
Julie C.
M.WARD
The Transfiguration of
Vincent
(Merge)
From the most innocuous of
starts, The Transfiguration of
Vincent gracefully and gradually builds into what I can safely
say is one of the best albums of
the year. You press play and you
are greeted by crickets chirping happily just as a ragtime
country instrumental begins
to play—and straightaway,
you're there—sitting on the
porch in the warm darkness
of 3 AM. After his two previous
attempts, Duet for Guitars #2
and End of Amnesia, M. Ward
has finally distilled the formula,
and it's a subtly heady brew.
Appalachian bluegrass
brushes shoulders with
Midwestern blues as they
weave together with an
almost accidental ease. It's as
if M. Ward has taken the great
American song book, turned
it into papier mache, thrown
it against the wall, and somehow come up with the most
beautiful collage, right there,
already hung. He's an obsessive four-tracker, apparently,
and yet somehow, the bedroom
recording has never sounded
so genuine before—so goddamn classic. You'll probably
be listening to it on a CD, but
you'd swear that it was a 78—it
sounds that warm and worn.
Listening to it late at night is
fatal—like   unknowingly  tun
ing into a ghost radio station,
broadcast on a spectral wavelength from some mythical
version of swampy geographical middle America. It reminds
me of the film Paris, Texas: it,
too, is a paean to the mythic
America in all its forms—but
at the same time, it's far more
inclusive and wide-ranging.
M.Ward is obviously in love
with the dry desert highway of
the American Southwest—the
heat and the obliteration—but
he is equally at home on the
temporal rainforest coast of
the Pacific Northwest, where
we find him conversing with
the far older Native American
myths and spirits. On the
ghostly rumble of "Sad, Sad
Song", he goes to the Killer
Whale for advice on how to win
back a long lost love. "Sing a
song/sing a sad sad song/sing
it over and over again/till she
come backs to you" is the time-
won response.
"A sad sad song" would be
an all-too-simple description
of everything available here.
But it's a good sad—you know
what 1 mean—you'll want to
kiss someone rather than kill
yourself. You will be given a
newfound appreciation of the
proximity of your loved ones.
For example, "Dead Man"
speaks of the hope of freedom
in the final rest; the effect
is uplifting. Meanwhile, "Get
To the Table on Time" heads
across the continent to the
Appalachians for an acoustic
country sound that calls to
mind the Dylan-fronted Band
in its best moments. We find
"Poor Boy, Minor Key" hanging
out in a bar in New Orleans
trading jazz licks with all the
old cats in the suits and hats.
"Out of My Head" perhaps
deserves special mention: it's
the most immediate track
here. M. Ward coaxes a pleasing, distorted guitar over an
out-of-tune organ, all the while
singing blissfully catchy lyrics
that seem cold-plucked from a
twisted fairytale of old. It'll be
the one that will hook you in,
but after that you'll find yourself falling through the whole
album with ease. And then
you'll swear that it's a classic,
too, just like me. Throughout its
entire running time—though it
makes many attempts to emulate historical styles—it
sounds anything less than sincere. He even makes crap songs
sound amazing. Just listen to
his version of David Bowie's
eighties white funk bloodsucker, "Let's Dance", and tell me I'm
wrong. He unearths the quality
of the original lyrics and retools
the song as if recorded in the
thirties, leaving you convinced
Bowie's version was the cover
and not vice versa.
At this point, I'm just
gonna have to throw out a list
of names: this album sounds
like both all and none of them:
Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan, The
Band, Neil Young, Nick Drake,
Willie Nelson, Will Oldham and
every one of those dead Delta
Blues men you read about in
books. Yes, it's that good.
MereJc Cooper •
MOGIC OSS
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OF A ROCKER
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live music reviewr
THE POLYPHONIC SPREE
FROG EYES
PATRICK PARK
Thursday, April 17
Richard's on Richards
My review of The Polyphonic
Spree's April show appears here
rather than in DiSCORDER's
May issue because of contribution deadlines, final exams, and
a good deal of lethargy from,
ahem, yours truly. For these
reasons (I'll let you guess which
contributed most to the delinquency of this review), anything
I say about this show likely
won't affect the "legendary" and
"concert of the year" status that
Vancouver's music intelligentsia
has already conferred upon it.
That being the case, rather than
spend 300 words describing
the band and details from the
show you've probably heard or
read elsewhere, I'll instead list
reasons why this show deserves
such reverential worship:
Having 22 robed people
file onstage one-by-one creates anticipation few bands can
match.
The band members looked
like they were having the time of
their lives (especially the bearded
member of the choir who looked
wacked out on some hallucinogen); they beamed, bounced
around, and pumped their fists
almost continuously during the
show. Such jubilation (containing not one shred of irony) is
not only unheard of nowadays,
it's also utterly contagious: the
entire crowd was won over by
the end of the first song, "It's
the Sun".
The band's enthusiasm and
energy never wavered . over
the two-hour set; the audience
was never given the chance to
become uninterested.
After bandleader Tim
DeLaughter told the crowd he
loved Jagermeister, at least two
audience members bought shots
for him. With the price of alcohol
being what it is at Richard's, only
true adoration could inspire that
kind of behaviour.
When someone decided to
shout out to DeLaughter, he said,
"Thank you so much!" and not
"Play'1 Got A Girl'!"
I saw no one refusing to join
the tremendous ovation the
crowd gave the band at the end
of their set. It's as if all the jaded
hipsters Vancouver is known
for departed early, leaving only
a group of people who felt truly
blessed to have seen such a great
These reasons and more
explain why this concert will
go down as one for the ages in
Vancouver's live music scene.
The only downside is that the
band's album now sounds stilted
and lifeless, as it doesn't capture
the celebratory nature of the
live performance. However,
DeLaughter told the audience
we should feel special because
we saw The Polyphonic Spree
and everyone else in town didn't.
For me, that experience was
Neil Braun
THE FLAMING UPS
MODEST MOUSE
UZPHAIR
DESTROYER
STARLIGHT MINTS
Sunday, May 25
Plaza of Nations
Was the gig a monumental
event that should not have been
missed? An experience that
people will talk about for years
to come? No. However, for
brief moments, the spectacle of
bouncing balloons mixed with
fuzzy stuffed dancing animals
in a haze of confetti with dizzy
video clips and loud music in a
crowd of thousands, caused me
to drift out of my body and splatter across the atmosphere in the
form of misty water drops inside
a puffy cumulus cloud on a sunny
afternoon; this brought much joy
to my morose demeanor.
The crowd seemed stoned
and well behaved; we cheered
and clapped when we were
supposed to, we sang when
prompted, and we left when the
curfew hit.
Oklahomans the Starlight
Mints gave the opening act
and got rave reviews from the
crowd   outside   catching   the
sounds for free on a walkway
near the dome. Once ex-New
Pornographer     Dan     Bejar's
ensemble Destroyer warmed up
and became comfortable with
the space, they rocked, too. His
poetic lyrics came through and
evoked mystery and confusion
for the masses.
Too many sausages among
too few veggie dogs, Liz Phair
was one of only two females to
perform in the male-dominated
line up. Her quiet and seemingly uninspired cougar anthems
might have rung true in the '90's,
but they seem to run thin in the
double naughts. I was hoping
that she would blow the crowd
away, but in the end debate rages
on only as to whether or not she
was wearing any underwear
beneath her jean mini-skirt.
What can I say about Modest
Mouse? When they're on, they're
on; and when they're not, they're
not. The potential to triumph
was there—they have the raw
fuel on stage to explode—but
they chose to fade away instead
of ending in a crescendo.
Since the concert, CBC
Radio 3 and The Flaming Lips
have both won Webby Awards
for their interactive websites,
www.cbcradio3.com and
www.flaminglips.com. If you
missed the show or are desperate to relive the magic, most
of the gig will be available at
www.justconcerts.com.
The Flaming Lips were definitely the highlight of the evening—
playing in front of a psychedelic
video montage feedback that
swallowed a blue screen of shadow puppets and prominently
placed Wayne Coyne's head
stretching off into the rainbow
distance of perspective. The
absurdity of rock shows... Fake
blood, Calvin Klein suits, the
Peach Pit, and a bombardment
of the senses during "Lightning
J. Mascis ofMascis, Stills, Nash and Young in a rare, only semi-inebriated performance at Richard's. Photo by Kimberley Day
20 July 2003 Strikes The  Post  Man"; what
does it add up to? Ambivalence?
Regardless, I enjoyed the trip.
ArC
DO MAKE SAY THINK
SINOIA CAVES
Saturday, June 14
Sonar
I cannot begin this without a
disclaimer—I was late for this
show.
Excuses: It was an early
show. Apparently, this information was on the ticket. Only I
didn't have a ticket. I was supposed to be on the "list". Only
I wasn't on the list (but that is
a departure from the task at
hand). I cannot claim total ignorance, however: I had an idea
that I should be arriving early.
Maybe the ticket had a start
time stamped on it, but early
show—to my mind—means
something like 21:00 hours. Not
18:00. I think my jaw literally
fell open, my eyes opening wide
with amazed horror as I walked
into Sonar to the soundtrack of
the band I had come there to see.
Those were sad moments for
me. Do Make Say Think is part
of a collection of bands that very
accurately characterized my
musical tastes as of a year or two
ago. To them I profess sentimental attachment. Which brings me
to my second disclaimer—I am
biased.
I have seen DMST once
before. Seeing them again,
familiar faces on the stage as I
finally walked in, was the catalyst to a very emotional reaction
in response to the entirety of
what was happening. I thought
that the atmosphere (for lack
of a better word) might have
already been created—might
be impenetrable for someone
entering in without context. But
I was, blissfully, dead wrong. It
took about 30 seconds before
I was in it completely: swaying
hips, clutching fingers, unabat-
ing, clandestine grin upon my
face—thinking to myself that
this type of music—melodic—is
so often without concrete
images. At the most basic level,
this music tends to deny the pop-
star exaltation of appearance for
the people who present it. There
are no linear narratives in the
vein of textbook music videos,
so much of what this music is,
is what you bring to it. Anyway,
there is a dichotomous notion of
strangeness when the faceless
There was, however, one
face that I did not recognize.
He was piaying horns—more
jazzy than a DMST album ever
sounded. He was later revealed
to me, by a friend, to be the
father of one of the other band
members onstage. DMST had
become a jazz band gone berserk. They brought the music
out into the audience, stopped
halfway through for the calling
of the loons, and I never once
wanted to close my eyes (as
sometimes happens) to block out
the world and exist only with the
music. This time I wanted every
detail. A beckon to raise a fist in
glory seems oddly appropriate
when you cannot tear your eyes
away. Speak of charismatic leaders and a horn section with the
same breath.
And when it was all over,
the audience did not simply clap
with approval. Instead we used
our hands to issue a primal call
of return. Nothing was random
in the end; every beat was with
purpose. This did not go unanswered in the end, despite the
fact that no encore was played.
Instead, DMST filtered out of
their confined space onstage,
down hallways, behind tables,
on top of chairs. Taken aback
was I, but not without wonderful
surprise.
As for Sinoia Caves, I missed
them completely. But for what
it's worth I hear very good things
about those kids—have not
heard a bad word connected
with their name. And I am not
just saying these things.
sweetcheyanne
BJORK
PEACHES
June 16 & 17
Palais   Omnisports   de   Bercy
(Paris)
Our intercontinental journey to
witness what has been hyped
as Bjork s "return to electronic-
based performance" climaxed
in an arduous lineup outside the
stadium. Her signature fusion
of modern technology with live
instrumentation, incredible
vocals, and stylistic tendencies
that range from pop to classical,
had drawn many to the postmodern (think Expo 86) environs
of Paris' Bercy Village. Despite
the discomfort, we felt a sense
of inner peace, knowing that our
lives post-Bjbrk (PB) would transcend such trivialities.
Peaches had been invited to
open. Her overtly sexual stage
show has delighted Vancouver
audiences over the  past two
years. However, her intimate
and confrontational performance style did not translate
well to the stadium setting, with
the language barrier proving difficult to bridge. English-language
phrases that stirred us deeply
("Only double A/Thinking triple
X," etc.) were lost on the crowd.
However, the raison d'etre
of the night was Bjork, who
most definitely "delivered the
goods," as she sang in the first
night's opening song, "Hunter".
Barefoot, wearing a crown of
turquoise feathers and a glimmering black tutu, the Icelandic
diva performed with characteristic vigor and passion. Her history of well-chosen collaborators
(Graham Massey, Nellee Hooper,
Guy Sigsworth, etc.) was well
in evidence this evening. For
tonight's concert, she was joined
by harpist Zeena Parkins and
Matmos. A seven-piece string
ensemble rounded out the
assembled talent.
A precise and moving stage
show illustrated Bjork's commitment to fully-realized performance art. As-yet unseen
videos accompanied several
songs. Most notable was the film
for the Soft Pink Truth remix of
"In Our Hands". Line drawings
reminiscent of Keith Haring
overlay still photos of Inuit life,
accentuating themes of violence
and sexuality.
The sound produced by the
assembled players was alternately lush and spare. Parkins
moved from harp to clavichord
to accordion, playing both the
accordion and harp during
"joga". Matmos' accompaniment fused the warmth of ana
log sound with the precision of
digital technology, giving a fresh
feel to many familiar songs.
The experience of both
nights left the impression of an
artist at the peak of formidable
creative powers, and three new
songs gave a tantalizing glimpse
of her forthcoming album. Life
PB truly is good.
Susy and Sasha Webb
BUILT TO SPILL
J.MASCIS
Wednesday, June 4
Richard's on Richards
1 entered Richard's on Richards
with giddy excitement—I have
loved Built to Spill for two
years and have never seen them
play. The other reason for my
enthusiasm was that J Mascis:
Guitar God, was the opening
act. Although 1 had never heard
him before, I had been told that
he was "amazing." Needless to
say, I expected a lot from this
show. We got in about 15 minutes into Mascis' set; the former
frontman for Dinosaur Jr. was
seated, strumming an acoustic
guitar. The club was already
quite full—another positive
reinforcement that this would
be a great night. After the first
song, I was pleasantly surprised.
His gentle way with the guitar
and his soft, somewhat nasal
voice were a sweet combination.
I was told about his penchant for
guitar solos and did enjoy the
first few; however, they seemed
repetitive, and by the end of his
set 1 was asking myself: how
many is too many guitar solos?
His voice that at first sounded
I melodic seemed to
crack a little too much—but, on
looking around, I seemed to be
the only one that noticed these
things. Everyone else continued
on with the telltale indie rock
sway and applauded and whistled after every solo. I've come
to the conclusion that if one is to
enjoy J Mascis, one must listen
to his music over and over again
until the genius of it is exposed.
Unfortunately, I don't think I will
be giving him a second chance.
Nevertheless, nothing could
keep me unhappy for long: this
was Built to Spill night! When
the trio from Boise, idaho took
the stage and began to play, any
doubts that had been created by
J Mascis were swept away.
Comparable to Modest
Mouse, Death Cab for Cutie,
or the Shins, Built to Spill's
sound—a mix of rock, punk and
grunge—has amassed a loyal
following—which was clearly
visible in the nearly sold out
venue. They jumped right into
the music, with very little chatting throughout the show except
a "thank you" here and there.
The band played music from
both Keep it Like a Secret and
Perfect from Now On, but most
of the songs were from their
newest album, the 2001 release
Ancient Melodies of the Future.
The crowd seemed hypnotized
by Doug Martsch's lyrics and
guitar mastery. And yes, they
did end with the much talked
about super-long song (I clocked
it at about 30 minutes), which
caused the kids to awaken from
their daze, whoop and holler,
and then fall back into the trance
that Built to Spill causes every
fall into.
Gabby De Lucca •
21 DiSCORDER Jepfechau* Cototy
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Fat Wreck Chords
P.O. Box 193690 San Francisco, CA 94119-3690
fatwreck.com - www.gimmegimmes.com
22 July 2003 chartA	
51
what's bein
g played at
CiTR 101.9fm
July Long Vinyl
July Indie Home Jobs
1 Me                                        But Only if You Listen
July Charts 20 Years Ago
1 New Order             Power, Corruption and Lies
1 The Gossip
Movement
Kill Rock Stars
2 Simply Saucer
Cyborgs Revisited
Sonic Unyon
2 The Department                                        Propane
2 Violent Femmes                                               s/t
3 Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Fever to Tell
Interscope
3 Snow Goats                                The Dressmakers
3 Spear of Destiny                     Grapes of Wrath
4 McEnroe
Disenfranchised        Peanuts and Corn
4 Butterflies Attack                             One at a Time
4 Heaven 17                                The Luxury Gap
5 S.T.R.E.E.T.S
Bo Bo Gnar Gnar
Global Sym.
5 My Project: Blue                                Haunting Me
5 Yello                                 You Gotta Say Yes...
6 Kinnie Starr
Sun Again
Violet Inch
6 St. Tibs Day                                                   Lariat
6 Bill Nelson                                             Chimera
7 New Pornies
Electric Version
Mint
7 Emerald City                                Beyond the Pale
7 Pylon                                                        Chomp
8 Kellerman Port.
s/t
Independent
8 The Basement Sweets                                For Rent
8 Gun Club                                     Death Party EP
9 v/a
Legends of Surf Guitar
Sundazed
9 Zero Return                                               Curiosity
9 Clint Eastwood                             Stop that Train
10 v/a
Merzbow: Remixed
Important
10 The Sore Throats                         Need it, Got it...
10 Shriekback                                                   Care
11 Nina Nastasia
Run to Ruin
Touch and Go
11 Channels 2 and 3              Shot in the Kneecap...
11 Talking Heads                   Speaking in Tongues
12 Grandaddy
Sumday
V2
12 The Basement Sweets                  In Tomato Town
12 The Creatures                                              Feast
13 v/a
Label Compilation
Ghostly Int.
13 Ty-C                                             Tyrannosaurus Rex
13 The Blasters                                      Non-Fiction
14 Martin Gore
Counterfeit2
Reprise
14 Skeleton                                                   Like You
14 REM                                                         Murmur
15 14-Year-Old GirL
Zombies In
Retard Disco
15 George Case Exp.                          Yeilow, Yellow
15 Danielle Dax                                         Pop-Eyes
16 Los Furios
s/t
Surrender
16 The Blacklist                                               Untitled
16 Rip, Rig and Panic                                  Attitude
17 Buttless Chaps
Experiments            Lonesome Cowboy
17 Magical Glass Tears               Autumn Leaves Fall
17 Hunters and Collectors                                   s/t
18 v/a
Autechre A.T.P. Comp.
ATP
18Shinen                                                          Excess
18 Malcolm McLaren                               Duck Rock
19 v/a
A Mighty Wind
Columbia
19 The Feminists                             Sad Echo Wailed
19 Herald Nix                               One Night Only
20 Prince Paul
Politics of Business
Razor and Tie
20 Shitfaced                                                        Live
20 Clock DVA                                       Advantage
21 Tim Hecker
Radio Amor
Mille Plateaux
22 Cuts
2 Over Ten
Birdman
23 RJD2
The Horror
Defjux
24 Turbonegro
25 10 Days Late
26 Enon
Scandinavian Leather
Go with the Flow
In this City
Burning Heart
Klark
Touch and Go
c
HOW THE CHARTS WORK }
27 White Stripes
Elephant
V2
28 Real McKenzies
Oot and Aboot
Honest Don's
The monthly charts are compiled based on the number of times a CD/
29 Coin Gutter
All Dreams...
No Type
LP ("lonq vinyl"), 7" ("short vinyl"),
or demo tape/CD ("indie home
30 Mocky
31 Wire
32 Snitches
In Mesopotamia
Send
Star Witness
Gomma
jobs") on CiTR's playlist was played by our DJs during the previous
Revolver
Write Off
month (i.e., "July" charts reflect airplay over June). Weekly charts can
33 Prefuse 73
1 Word Extinguisher
Warp
be received via email. Send mail to
'majordomo@unixg.ubc.ca' with
34 Evolution Ctrl.
Plagiarhythm
Seeland
the command: "subscribe citr-charts.'
•
35 Mono
One More Step...
ARRCO
Hp\/M*
ncy!!
"Buy this ad space, you fuckers
We never want to run this crap promo again.
To find out about our cheap rates:
email: discorder«yahoo.com
23 DiSCORDER SUNDAY
ARE   YOU   SERIOUS?   MUSIC
V:OOAM- 12:00PM All of time
is measured by its art. This show
presents the most recent new
music from around the world.
Ears open.
THE ROCKERS SHOW
12:00PM-3:00PM Reggae
inna all styles and fashion.
BLOOD     ON     THE     SADDLE
3:00PM-5:00PM    Real   cowshit-
caught-in-yer-b>oots country.
CHIPS WITH EVERYTHING   alt.
5:00PM-6:00PM   British   pop
music from all decades.
SAINT TROPEZ   alt.    5:00PM-
6:00PM      International      pop
(Japanese,      French,     Swedish,
British, US, etc.), '60s soundtracks
and  lounge.   Book your  jet set
holiday nowl
QUEER FM      6:00PM-8:00PM
Dedicated to the gay, lesbian,
bisexual, and transsexual communities of Vancouver. Lots of human
interest features, background on
current issues, and great music.
RHYTHMSINDIA 8:00PM-
10:00PM Rhythmslndia features
a wide range of music from India,
including popular music from
Indian movies from the 1930s to
the present, classical music, semi-
classical music such as Ghazals
and Bhajans, and also Qawwalis,
pop and regional language numbers.
TRANCENDANCE 10:00PM-
12:00AM Join us in practicing
the ancient art of rising above
common thought and ideas as your
host DJ Smiley Mike lays down
the latest trance cuts to propel
us into the domain of the mystic-
al<trancendance@hotmail.com>
THE   SHOW 12:00AM-
2:00AM
ANTELOPE FREEWAY 2:00AM-
6:00AM The Freeway Beckonsl
Offering new vistas, exotic folk,
and old memories. With your host
Ian at the wheel. Four hours of
aged LP pleasure. Five stars all!
MONDAY
FILL-IN 6:00AM- 8:00AM
BREAKFAST WITH THE BROWNS
8:00AM-11:00AM Your favou-
rite brown-sters, James and Peter,
offer a savoury blend of the familiar and exotic in a blend of aural
delights!
LOCAL KIDS MAKE GOOD alt.
11:00AM- 1:00PM Local Mike
and Local Dave bring you local
music of all sorts. The program
most likely to play your band!
TANZEN IM 4-ECK alt.
11:00AM-1:00PM        Hopefully
happy music to get us through
these rough summer months. Proof
that Germans make more than
scary industrial music, too.
PARTS UNKNOWN 1:00PM-
3:00PM Underground pop for
the minuses with the occasional
interview with your  host,  Chris.
SANDBOX THEATRE 3:00PM-
4:00PM A show of radio drama
orchestrated and hosted by UBC
students, featuring independent
works from local, national, and
international theatre groups.
We welcome your involvement.
<sandboxtheatre@hotmail.com>
ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS 4:00PM-
5:00PM A chance for new CiTR
DJs to flex their musical muscle.
Surprises galore.
WENER'S BARBEQUE 5:00PM-
6:00PM Join the sports dept. for
their coverage of the T-Birds.
CRASH THE POSE alt. 6:00PM-
7:30PM Hardcore/punk as fuck
from beyond the grave.
SOLARIZATION (on hiatus) alt.
6:00PM-6:30PM
MY ASS alt. 6:30PM-7:30PM
Phelps, Albini, 'n' me.
WIGFLUX RADIO 7:30PM-
9:00PM Listen to Selecta
Krystabelle for your reggae edu-
THE JAZZ SHOW 9:00PM-
12:00AM Vancouver's longest
running prime time jazz program.
Hosted by the ever-suave Gavin
Walker. Features at 11.
July 7: Tonite we celebrate the
birthday of tenor saxophonist
and jazz master Hank Mobley.
Overshadowed in his time by
Rollins and Coltrane, Hank was
just as important. His album Soul
Station defines Mobley and is
heard tonight.
July 14: One of the most beloved
musicians was pianist/composer
Linton Garner (a resident of
Vancouver from 1974 until his
death in march 2003). His one and
only album under his own name
was called Garner plays Garner.
Rare and sourght after. We hear it
tonight. Linton with bass and drums
playing his own tunes.
July 24: Two of a Mind is a classic featuring Paul Desmond (alto
saxophone) and Gerry Mulligan
(Baritone Saxophone). Two of the
most lyrical and swinging and
warmest jazz guys.
July 28: Proof Positive. A defining
album by the modern trombone
master J J. Johnson with his working trio. One of JJ.'s own favourites
of his work.
VENGEANCE IS MINE12:00AM-
3:00AM    Hosted by Trevor. It's
punk rock, babyl Gone from the
charts but not from our hearts—
thank fucking Christ.
PSYCHEDEUC AIRWAVES
3:00AM-6:30AM DJ Christopher
Schmidt also hosts Organix at Club
23   (23   West   Cordova)   every
TUESDAY
PACIFIC PICKIN' 6:30AM-
8:00AM Bluegrass, old-time
music, and its derivatives with
Arthur and "The Lovely Andrea"
Berman.
HIGHBRED VOICES     8:00AM-
9:30AM
THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM
9:30AM-11:30AM Open your
ears and prepare for a shock! A
harmless note may make you a
fan! Hear the menacing scourge
that is Rock and Roll! Deadlier than
the most dangerous criminal!
<borninsixtynine@hotmail.com>
THE NORTHERN WISH alt.
11:30AM- 1:00PM
FILL-IN 11:30AM-12:30PM
REEL TO REAL ah.        12:30PM-
1:00PM    Movie   reviews   and
Sunday
Monday
TUESDAY
Wednesday
Thursday
Friday
Saturday
6*M
7
8
9
10
11
12P*
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12AM|
1
2
3
4
5
REGGAE LINKUP
ARE YOU
SERIOUS?
MUSIC
"H
ROCKERS
SHOW
BLOOD ON THE L
SADDLE
BREAKFAST
WITH
THE BROWNS
R
LOCAL
KIDS MAKE
GOOD
H
PARTS      u
UNKNOWN
SANDBOX THEATRE(TK)
ABSOLUTE BEGINNERS
H
PACIFIC PICKIN'
HIGHBRED VOICES
jvsb
THIRD TIMES
THE CHARM
B
REEL TO REAL (TK)
BEATUP RONIN
N
CIRCUIT TRACING
MEAT EATING VEGAN(Ec)
SUBURBAN JUNGLE
FOOL'S PARADISE L
EXQUISITE CORPSE
TrTT
THE DIM SUM SHOW
m
H
MOTORDADDY/
RUMBLETONE RADIO
FILL-IN
END OF THE
WORLD NEWS
PLANET
LOVETRON
RHYMES &
REASONS
FILL-IN
CAUGHT IN
THE RED
"M
SKA-T'S      L
SCENIC DRIVE
THESE ARE THE BREAKS
LEO RAMIREZ   S
SHOW
NARDWUAR   LH
PRESENTS
FILL-IN
THE
SATURDAY
EDGE
POWERCHORD
CODE BLUE
| Rts
HI
7
8
9
10
11
12pm
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12*mj
1
2
3
4
5
CHPSWTTH   I Po  I    SAINT    I PO
EVERYTHNG   l—J   TROPEZ  I	
10,000 VOICES (Tk)
QUEER FM
SOLARIZATION (Tk
FLEX YOUR
HEAD
W
RACHEL'S     [*
SONG
IIP (Tk| REVaUTONARY
CITR NEWS AND
ARTS(Tk)
ELECTROLUX HOUR
A.S.W.
(Po/Ec)
RHYTHMSINDIA
WIGFLUX RADIO
BLUE
MONDAY
(Gi)
OUT FOR KICKS
"R
-g
TRANCENDANCE
THE
JAZZ
SHOW
M
SALARIO MINIMO
"H
ON AIR «
WITH GREASED HAIR
FAREASTSIDE
SOUNDS
VENUS
FLYTRAP
| Hh |
0
ESCAPISM
FOLK OASIS
-R
AFRICAN
RYTHMS
LIVE FROM...
THUNDERBIRD HELL
|Dc/Ec
SYNAPTIC SANDWICH
VENGEANCE
IS MINE!
HANS KLOSS'
MISERY HOUR
m
m
PLUTONIAN
NIGHTS
13
ANTELOPE
FREEWAY
AURAL
TENTACLES
PSYCHEDELIC
AIRWAVES
FIRST FLOOR
SOUND SYSTEM
WIRELESS
CRUELTY
THE
VAMPIRE'S
BALL
EARWAX
REGGAE LINKUP
13
Cf« conscious and funky • Ch- children's • Dc- dance/electronic • Ec= eclectic • Ex- experiemental • Fr- french language • Gi- goth/industrial • He- hardcore • Hh- hip hop
LHk- Hans Kloss • Ki—Kids • Jz- jazz • Lm- live music • Lo- lounge • Mf- metal • No- noise • Nw- Nardwuar • Po- pop • Pu= punk ■
^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ Rg- reggae • Rr^ocl^Rts- roots^^l^ska •So^ou^Sp- sports^jc- talk • Wo^orld       ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^
24 July 2003 BEATUP RONIN 1:00PM-
2:00PM Where dead samurai
can program music.
CIRCUIT     TRACING     2:00PM-
EN AVANT LA MUSIQUE
alt. 3:30PM-4:30PM
ELECTRIC AVENUES ah. 3:30PM-
4:30PM Last Tuesday of every
month, hosted by The Richmond
Society For Community Living. A
variety music and spoken word program with a focus on people with
special needs and disabilities.
THE MEAT-EATING VEGAN
4:30PM-5:00PM
10,000 VOICES 5:00PM-
6:00PM   Poetry,   spoken  word,
FLEX YOUR HEAD        6:00PM-
8:00PM Up the punx, down the
emo! Keepin' it real since 1989,
yo
flexyourhead.vancouverhardcore.c
SALARIO MINIMO 8:00PM-
10:00PM
THE LOVE DEN alt.      10:00PM-
12:00AM
<loveden@hotmail.com>
ESCAPISM   ah. 10:00PM-
12.00AM
es»cap»ism n: escape from the reality or routine of life by absorbing the
mind in entertainment or fantasy.
Host: DJ Satyricon.
July 8: Pounding System - Dubwise
and otherwise featuring a mix by
DJ Satyricon.
July 22: Church of Hell - LIVE! Our
one year anniversary show.  Still
bringing the noiz and givin' the
peeps what they need.
<DJSatyricon@hotmail.com>
AURAL TENTACLES 12:00AM-
6:00AM It could be punk,
ethno, global, trance, spoken
word, rock, the unusual and the
weird, or it could be something
different.   Hosted   by   DJ   Pierre.
WEDNESDAY
FILL-IN 6:00AM- 7:00AM
THE SUBURBAN JUNGLE
7:00AM-9:00AM Bringing you
an entertaining and eclectic mix
of new and old music live from
the Jungle Room with your irreverent hosts Jack Velvet and Nick
The Greek. R&B, disco, techno,
soundtracks, Americana, Latin jazz,
news, and gossip. A real geml
<suburbanjungle@channel88.co>
FOOL'S PARADISE 9:00AM-
10:00AM Japanese music and
talk.
EXQUISITE CORPSE 10:00AM-
11:30AM
ANOIZE 11:30AM-
1:00PM Luke Meat irritates and
educates through musical deconstruction.   Recommended   for  the
THE SHAKE ah. 1:00PM-
FOR THE RECORD ah. 1:00PM-
2:00PM
THE DIM SUM SHOW ah.
2:OOPM-3:OOPM The theme is:
there is no themel Kat and Claire
push around trolleys of alt-pop,
altcountry, Canadian indie, electroclash and other delicious morsels.
MOTORDADDY ah. 3:00PM-
5:00PM Cycle-riffic rawk and roll!
RUMBLETONE RADIO ah.
3:00PM-5:00PM Primitive,
fuzzedout garage mayhem!
RACHEL'S SONG 5:00PM-
6:30PM Socio-political, environmental activist news and spoken
word with some music, too.
www.necessaryvoices.org
<necessaryvoices@1elus.net>
AND   SOMETIMES  WHY     ah.
6:30PM-8:00PM
(First Wednesday of every month.)
BLUE MONDAY ah. 6:30PM-
8:00PM Vancouver's  only industrial-
electronic-retro-goth program. Music
to schtomp to, hosted by Coreen.
JUKEBOX        8:00PM-9:00PM
Your ears have never felt so naugh-
ty!
FOLK      OASIS 9:00PM-
11:00PM    Roots music for folkies
and non-folkies... bluegrass, singer-
songwriters.worldbeat, alt country,
and more Not a mirage!
<folkoasis@canada.com>
HANS KLOSS' MISERY HOUR
11:00PM-2:00AM
FIRST FLOOR SOUND SYSTEM
2:00AM-6:00AM
THURSDAY
FILL-IN 6:00AM- 8:00AM
END   OF   THE   WORLD   NEWS
8:00AM- 10:00AM
PLANET LOVETRON 10:00AM-
11:30AM Music inspired by
Chocolate Thunder, Robert Robot
drops electro past and present, hip
hop and intergalactic funkmanship.
<rbotlove@yahoo.com>
FILL-IN 11:30AM-
1:00PM
STEVE AND MIKE 1:00PM-
2:00PM Crashing the boy's club
in the pit. Hard and fast, heavy and
slow (punk and hardcore).
THE ONOMATOPOEIA SHOW
2:00PM-3:00PM Comix comix
comix. Oh yeah, and some music
with Robin.
RHYMES AND REASONS
3:O0PM-5KX)PM
LEGALLY HIP ah. 5:00PM-
6:00PM
PEDAL REVOLUTIONARY
ah. 5:00PM-6:00PM Viva
la Velorution! DJ Helmet Hair
and Chainbreaker Jane give
you all the bike news and views
you need and even cruise around
while doing it!
www.bikesexual.org
OUT FOR KICKS 6:00PM-
7:30PM No Birkenstocks, nothing
politically correct. We don't get
paid so you're damn right we have
fun with it. Hosted by Chris B.
ON AIR WITH GREASED HAIR
7:30PM-9:00PM   The best in
roots rock 'n' roll and rhythm and
blues from 1942-1962 with your
snappiry-attired host Gary Olsen.
<ripitup55@telus. ner>
LIVE FROM THUNDERBIRD
RADIO HELL 9:00PM-
11:00PM Local muzak from 9 til
10. Live bandz from 10 Hi 11.
www.stepandahalf.com/tbirdhell
WORLD HEAT 11:00PM-
1:00AM An old punk rock heart
considers the oneness of all things
and presents music of worlds
near and far. Your host, the great
DaryJ-ani, seeks reassurance via
<worldheat@hotmail.com>.
WIRELESS CRUELTY 1:00AM-
6:00 AM
FRIDAYS
FILL-IN 6:00AM- 8:00AM
CAUGHT IN THE RED 8:00AM-
10KX)AM Trawling the trash heap
of over 50 years worth of real rock
'n' roll debris.
SKAT'S      SCENE-IK      DRIVE!
10:00AM- 12:00PM Email
requests to:<djska_t@hormail.com>.
THESE      ARE     THE      BREAKS
12:OOPM-2:OOPM Top notch crate
diggers DJ Avi Shack and Promo
mix the underground hip hop, old
school classics and original breaks.
THE LEO RAMIREZ SHOW
2:00PM-3:30PM The best mix
of music, news, sports, and c
mentary from around the local and   I
international Latin American c
NARDWUAR      THE      HUMAN '
SERVIETTE PRESENTS..
3:3OPM-5:0OPM
CiTR      NEWS      AND
5:00PM-6:00PM   A
produced,   student   and
nity newscast featuring news, I
and arts. Reports by people like
you. "Become the Media." To get
involved, visit www.citr.ca and click
"News Dept."
FAR EAST SIDE SOUNDS ah.
6:00PM-9:00PM
AFRICAN RHYTHMS ah.
6:00PM-9:O0PM David "Love"
Jones brings you the best new and
old jazz, soul, Latin, samba, bossa,
and African music from around the
world.
HOMEBASS  9:00PM- 12:00AM
Hosted by DJ Noah: techno but
also   some   trance,   acid,   tribal,
etc. Guest DJs, inter,
spectives, giveaways,
I UKE THE SCRIBBLES ah.
12:00AM-2:O0AM
THE ANTIDOTE ah. 12:00AM-
2:00AM
THE VAMPIRE'S BALI 2:00AM
6:00AM Dark, sinister music of all
genres to soothe the Dragon's soul.
Hosted by Drake.
SATURDAY
FILL-IN 6:00AM-8:00PM
THE SATURDAY EDGE   8:00AM-
12:00PM Studio guests, new
releases, British comedy sketches,
folk music calendar, and ticket
giveaways.
8AM-9AM: African/World roots.
9AM-12PM: Celtic music and performances.
GENERATION ANNIHILATION
12:00PM-1.-00PM A fine mix
of streetpunk and old school hardcore backed by band interviews,
guest speakers and social commentary.
www.srreetpunkrodio.com
<crashnburnradio@yahoo.ca>
POWERCHORD 1:00PM-
3:00PM Vancouver's only true
metal show; local demo tapes,
imports, and other rarities. Gerald
Rattlehead, Dwain, and Metal Ron
do the damage.
CODE BLUE 3:00PM-
5:00PM From backwoods delta
low-down slide to urban harp
honks, blues, and blues roots with
your hosts Jim, Andy, and Paul.
ELECTROLUX HOUR 5:00PM-
6:00PM
SOUL TREE 6:00PM-9:00PM
From doo-wop to hip hop, from the
electric to the eclectic, host Michael
Ingram goes beyond the call of
gospel and takes soul music to the
nth degree.
SYNAPTIC SANDWICH 9:00PM-
1 1:00PM
PLUTONIAN NIGHTS 11:00PM-
1:00AM Cutting edge, progressive
organ music with resident Haitchc
and various guest performers/DJs.
Bye-bye civilisation, keep smiling
blue, where's me bloody anesthetic
then?
plutonia.org
http://plutonia.org
EARWAX        1:00AM-4:30AM
"noiz   terror   mindfuck   hard,
like punk/beatz drop dem headz
rock inna junglist mashup/distort
da source full force with needlz on
wax/my chaos runs rampant when
I free da jazz..." Out.
REGGAE LINKUP 4:30AM-
9:00AM Hardcore dancehall
reggae. Hosted by Sister B.
|fcc|c *j^l1»fyggmJ^
25 DiSCORDER datebook
SUBMISSIONS TO DATEBOOK ARE FREE. FOR
THE AUGUST ISSUE, THE DEADLINE IS JULY
23. FAX SHOW, FILM, EVENT AND VENUE
LISTINGS   TO
604.822.9364 OR EMAIL
<DISCORDER@CLUB.AMS.UBC.CA>
TUESDAY, JULY 1 Vain@Pic;    Kurosawa
- RuddcfThe Royal; Amandasonic@Pic; Sculpting in Time:     Trilogy@Blinding Light
ilms of Andrei Tarkovsky@Pacific Cinematheque: Dickin
d!@Blinding Light!!
Returns@Pacific   Cinematheque;    Beaver
WED 2
DJ Epine, Sarah VaintfPic; Raking Bombs@Unit 20 Legion; In
Medias Res, HinterIand@Railway; The Smears, Chinatown,
The Argument@Brickyard; Sculpting in Time: The Films of
Andrei Tarkovsky@Pacific Cinematheque; Tong Tana: The Lost
Paradise@Biinding Light!!
THUR 3
The Yardbirds, Nasty On, Dynamo Productions@Sonar; Son
De Madera@WISE Hail; Rumours, Bamboo Kids@Brickyard;
Cinemuerte International Fantastic Film Festival@Pacific
Cinematheque; Doc In the House Presents Lilith On Top@Blinding
Light!!
FRI 4
Vans Warped Tour@Thunderbird Stadium; Canned Hamm, Ivan
Hrvatska, Coke Snake@Brickyard; Cinemuerte International
Fantastic Film Festival@Pacific Cinematheque; Eye of Newt Play
Live To Tron@Blinding Light!!
SAT 5
Prids, the accident, Shotgunn 3@Brickyard; Swollen
Members@Vogue; Cinemuerte International Fantastic Film
Festival@Pacific Cinematheque; How's Your News?@Blinding
Light!!
THUR 17
Forty Foot Echo, Theory Of A Deadman, Three Days
Grace@Commodore; Frames of Mind@Pacific Cinematheque; BY08:
Bring Your Own Film + Requests@Blinding Light!!
FRI 18
The Kingpins, The Slackers, hoodwinks, J-Roys ©WISE Hall; Abbas
Kiarostami@Pacific Cinematheque; Closing Night Party!!@Blmding
Light!!
SAT 19
A.R.E. Weapons, Radio Berlin@Sonar; Abbas Kiarostami@Pacific
Cinematheque
SUN 20
Abbas Kiarostami@Pacific Cinematheque; The Blinding Light Garage
Sale@Blinding Light!!
MON 21
Chimaira, In Flames, Soiiwork, Unearth@Commodore; Elvis
Costello@Orpheum; Kurosawa Returns@Pacific Cinematheque
WED 23
Dean Del Ray, The Wallflowers@Commodore; La Volee
Dcastors@WISE Hall; DJ Epine, Sarah Vain@Pic; Abbas
i@Pacific Cinematheque
/special event*
Fruit@WISE
Festival@Pac
Light!!
SUN 6
Hall;   Cinemuerte   In
fie  Cinematheque;   H
Cinemuerte
MON 7
International     Fanta
FestivaI@Pacific
Cinematheque
TUE 8
Amandasonic@Pic; Cinemuerte International Fantast
Festival@Pacific Cinematheque; Rene Vienet's Can Dialecti
Bricks?@Blinding Light!!
WED 9
Michale Buble@Commodore; Fairweather, No Motive, Northstar,
RX Bandits@Richard's; Pernice Brothers, Warren Zanes@Royal;
DJ Epine, Sarah Vain@Pic; Cinemuerte International Fantastic
Film Festival@Pacific Cinematheque; Guy Debord's Society Of The
SpectacIe@Blinding Light!!
THUR 10
Smog, Pacific Ocean, Kaito@Royal; Cinemuerte International
Fantastic Film Festival@Pacific Cinematheque; Andrea Zimmerman
In Person@Blinding Light!!
FRI 11
Cradle Of Filth, Shadows Fall, Killswitch Engage, Sworn
Enemy@Commodore; Marilyn Manson@Orpheum;
Spoon@Richard's; Valle Son@WlSE Hall; Cinemuerte International
Fantastic Film Festival@Pacific Cinematheque; Alan Zweig's
Vinyl@Blinding Light!!
SAT 12
Brokeback, Califone, The Eternals@Pic; Cinemuerte International
Fantastic Film Festival@Pacific Cinematheque; Spatial Poetics
ll@Blinding Light!!
SUN 13
Eels@Richard's; Cherrybomb@Vancouver Rowing Club; Kurosawa
Returns@Pacific Cinematheque; U-Pick-The-Movie@Blinding
Light!!
TUE 15
Longwave, Stellastarr*@Royal; Amandasonic@Pic; Beaver
Trilogy@Blinding Light!!
WED 16
Foo Fighters, Pete Yom, The Special Goodness@Plaza of Nations;
boy@Railway Club; Afrocelts@Commodore; DJ Epine, Sarah
26 July 2003
THUR 24
Crosby, Stills & Nash@Pacific Coliseum; Kurosawa Returns@Pacific
Cinematheque, Animal Collective, Frog Eyes@Pat's Pub
FRI 25
Jay Farrar@Richard's; John Woo!@Pacific Cinematheque
SAT 26
Soledad Brothers@Brickyard; John Woo!@Pacific Cinematheque
SUN 27
John Woo!@Pacific Cinematheque
MON 28
Cottars@WISE Hall; John Woo!@Pacific Cinematheque
TUE 29
Amandasonic@Pic; Kurosawa Returns@Pacific Cinematheque
THUR 31
Aimee        Mann@Commodore;        Kurosawa        Returns@Pacific
Cinematheque
MORVERN CALLAR
JUNE27-JULY3
TINSELTOWN
You probably missed this film at last year's
VFF, I know I did. 1 can't guarantee the film
will be good but the soundtrack is killer. And
it's on Warp. And it has Can, Can on the big
screen with the big speakers. Imagine.
ANIMAL COLLECTIVE
FROG EYES
JULY 24
PAT'S PUB
When they started out, they sounded like
David Bowie shot through with searing white
noise. Then they dropped the electronics for
acoustic tribal drone and increasing weirdness. Remember that time you almost saw
the Boredoms but stayed home instead?
Don't fuck up again.
JOHN WOO RETROSPECTIVE
JULY 25-29
PACIFIC CINEMATHEQUE
Spend five days watching the most beautifully intense gunfights ever put on celluloid.
(And, yes, I am taking Sam Peckinpah into
account, you pretentious film school prats—
shut your whinygobs and leave the house.)
place* to be
active pass records
324 w. hasting
604.646.2411
pic pub
620 west pender
604.669.1556
bassix records
217 w. hastings
604.689.7734
railway club
579 dunsmuir
604.681.1625
beatstreet records
3-712 robson
604.683.3344
richard's on richards
1036 richards
604.687.6794
black swan records
3209 west broadway
604.734.2828
ridge cinema
3131 arbutus
604.738.6311
blinding light!!
36 powell
604.878.3366
red cat records
4305 main
604.708.9422
club 23
commodore ballroom
3611 west broadway
23 west cordova
868 granville
604.738.1959
604.739.4550
scrape records
1029 granville
17 west broadway
726 richards
604.877.1676
604.687.6355
futuristic flavour
highlife records
518 west pender
1020 granville
1317 commercial
300 west pender
604.683.8774
604.681.1766
604.251.6964
sugar refinery
teenage ramapage
66 water
1115 granville
19 west broadway
604.683.6695
604.331.1184
604.675.9227
lotus hotel
455 abbott
Vancouver playhouse
hamilton at dunsmu
r 604.665.3050
the main cafe
4210 main
604.709.8555
video in studios
1965 main
604.872.8337
ms. t's cabaret
339 west pender
western front
303 east 8th
604.876.9343
orpheum theatre
smithe at seymour
604.665.3050
WISE club
1882adanac
604.254.5858
pacific cinematheque
1131 howe
604.688.8202
yale
1300 granville
604.681.9253
pat's pub
403 east hastings
604.255.4301
zulu records
1972 west 4th
604.738.3232 NEVER MISS ANOTHER
THRILLING ISSUE!
WHY SHOULD YOU WAIT, WHEN 11 TIMES A
YEAR YOU CAN HAVE DISCORDER,
VANCOUVER'S GREATEST MUSIC AND
CULTURE MAGAZINE DELIVERED RIGHT TO
YOUR DOOR?! GET EACH NEW ISSUE BEFORE
YOUR FRIENDS! GET THEM BEFORE
THE STAFF ARE EVEN DONE WITH THEM!
FOR JUST PENNIES A DAY YOU WILL BE
ABLE TO LORD YOUR SUPERIORITY
OVER YOUR FRIENDS AND LOVED ONES,
MAKING THEM COW BEFORE THE POWER OF
YOUR AWESOME MIGHT AND HIPSTER CRED.
"THE GOSSIP?! PFFT! DISCORDER COVERED
THEM IN 1986! WHAT ARE YOU READING?
GRIT? KATYKEENE? THE NERVE?"
ORDER TODAY AND GET ALL 11 ISSUES FOR
JUST $24 ABOVE THE NEWSTAND PRICE! SUCH
A BARGAIN TO GUARANTEE YOUR COOLNESS!
YES! IWANT DISCORDER DELIVERED RIGHT TO MY DOOR EVERY MONTH
SO BADLY I'LL PAY FOR IT AND I'LL EVEN TELL THEM WHERE I LIVE! I HAVE
ENCLOSED S24CDN FOR A ONE YEAR (11 ISSUE) SUBSCRIPTION.
EVIIIY ISSUE INCLUDES:
SOON-TO-BE HIP BAND INTERVIEWS • INFLAMMATORY '
OPINIONS • MONTHLY CONCERT LISTINGS • REVIEWS
COMICS • OBSCURE REFERENCES • ART • A COVER!    I
Name:.
Address:.
City:	
. Age:.
_ Province:.
.Postal Code:.
SEND TO: #233-6136 SUB BLVD, VANCOUVER, BC, V6T1Z1
MAKE CHEQUES OR MONEY ORDERS PAYABLE TO DiSCORDER MAGAZINE
PLEASE ALLOW 6-8 WEEKS FOR YOUR FIRST ISSUE. SffifiQ^SSfflSIS®?^
FROG EYES
The Golden River
CD
There is no need to be
ashamed of one's taste in literature. Every book is equal if
read in the right way. The quibbling point, however, is that there is no one right way; it's
an issue of perspective. For example, should literature be
read with quiet poise or should it be buried in the back
garden? Who knows? Perhaps the best thing is to stumble
on through this noisome stumbling point, loping along
with the momentum. It's like trying to define the condition
of genius; impossible! Basically, you know it when you see
it, if in bricklaying, pop music, or whatever the case may
be. If in a pinch, Victoria's FROG EYES provide a compelling answer to both debates: One, literature needs to be
sung loudly overtop of a sometimes-spooky carnivalesque
caterwauling; and Two, Carey Mercer is a fucking genius.
As such, The Golden River is either a euphemism for an
endless drunken piss or the holy road to full enlightenment. In the end, it's both, exactly both. Recommended.
CD 12.98
THE CLIENTELE
The Violet Hour
cd mg
Here is some more great
music for (classic) indie
rock enthusiasts longing for the
heyday of literate and winsome,
guitar-driven intelligent pop, ala Galaxie 500, Felt and the
rest of their bespectacled, book-reading ilk. No nostalgia
here, though, more an adult connotsseurship, an
informed and decidedly satisfied choice. In other words,
this is fantastic living room music for social drinkers. And
frankly, we welcome this music with great relief:"At last,"
we calmty exclaim, "something to play for company during after dinner coffee that isn't downtempo." Then again,
everyone will be happy to hear The Violet Hour, even
non-new homeowners, such as the rest of us. Indeed,
there is something worthwhile for everyone: THE
CLIENTELES enjoyably daydream-like aesthetic is muted,
bJurred and open for interpretation. AVAILABLE JULY 8TH
JOEL
Return Of The
Fucked CD
ii r> uilty, are you guilty?" are
Uthe first words you hear on
this, the third instalment in the
"JOEL Variations" learner's
series. Don't bother answering, 'cuz ne's already done it for
you. There is a picture of a pirate ship on the cover and
some pirates were known to mix a little gunpowder in their
rum punch. What does that mean? JOEL knows. He drew a
treasure map that'll help you find all the broken pieces of
your heart, currently scattered all over the rough, unforgiving sea called Vancouver. A motley crew of ne'er-do-wells
populate the record, namely Black Rice, members of
Operation Makeout and The Doers (as the A Minus), all
contributing to the higlv-seas mayhem - and all sharing in
the booty. Fifteen cannon calls shot at your mizzen topmast.
"A quarter of my life witn my head up my ass has made me
flexible," JOEL says — and proves! CHECK OUT HIS CD
RELEASE SHOW, JULY 5 ATTHE SUGAR REFINERY!
CD 12.98
THE PINE VALLEY
COSMONAUTS
The Executioner's Last Songs:
Volume2&32CD
As with volume one, these new instalments in The
Executioner's Last Songs series find country-punk legend Jon Langford teaming up with a host of guest vocalists,
recording murder ballads forthe benefit of The Illinois
Coalition Against The Death Penalty and The National
Coalition To Abolish The Death Penalty. The vagabonds and
lost souls stepping up to the microphone this time include
Mark Eitzel, David Yow, Kurt Wagner and legendary psych-
folk genius, Kevin Coyne. With more stylistic variation on
display and more contemporary compositions being tackled
this time around, it seems like the Cosmonauts are building
up a broad and substantial body of work on this project,
and all for a bargain two-for-one price. 0 death.
CD 16.98
TRUBYTRIO
Elevator Music
CD/2LP
Oh no, elevator music! Fear
not. Rather than the lifeless
drivel you hear on the way up to
your 15th floor office every
morning, this is mood music for the elevator in your head.
In other words, soothing sounds to genuinely help relax
the mind and gently lift the spirit. Noted experts in the field
mood-inducing downtempo, Rainer Truby and company
are well regarded by aficionados of sophisticated electronic music, the very name conjuring images of pacific equanimity. This epic fusion of chilled beats and global grooves
is only bound to reconfirm the trio's considerable "laid-
back" reputation. Another hit from the ever-reliable :
Compost imprint.
CD 22.98   2LP 29.98
2CD 19.98
MARSVOLTA
De-Loused in the
Comatorium CD
What happened to At The
Drive in, that upstart
dynamo that promised to take
the mainstream by storm? Mars
Volta, for one thing, and man does it sound good to us. We
hear smoking and kicking emo-style rock with somewhat
psychedelic, even almost prog-rock flourishes. It's like if
Sunny Day Real Estate and Tool met up on an early
Genesis fan website and got together to rock out like Led
Zeppelin. Ridiculous? Not even. At a time when some millionaire rockers hype their supposed angry past and try to
reinvent themselves as present day trailblazers, some fresh
faces come out with something so wholly right-on that it
blows all the tired old shit away, leaving only dying ashes
and stunned geezers behind. Oh yes.thfs will be the soundtrack for many, many rock fans' summer,, eager for a little
something REAL. And yeah man, they've still got the hair.
AMERICAN
ANALOG SET
Promise of Love
CD/LP
Calling all drone rockers!
Remember the good old days
of blessed-out rock?  Remember when the tonely sound of
the oscillating Acetone, its keys taped down, was all you
needed? Remember back when Stereolab's Peng was the
perfect fusion of dream pop and post-prog? Well, it's time to
finally update your record collection with another gem in the
genre! With five excellent post-Velvets drone rock releases
lo their name, Texas' AMERICAN ANALOG SET seem finally
ready to receive their critical due. Promise of Love features
eight long tracks that stretch way out without ever needlessly
rocking out. Instead, the sound effortlessly floats along like
Yo La Tengo or Galaxie 500 on sedatives. We recommend.
CD 16.98    LP 14.98
BONOBO
Dial'M'For Monkey CD/2LP
There Is no need to phone long distance to monkey
around with this Ninja Tune and Vancouver favourite.
Simon Green's new Sfie could be called Dial T For I Just
Can't Stop Nodding My Head to This Great Instrumental Hip
Hop CD, although it's awesome by any name — but hey
..Ninja Tune, you should keep it in mind for the next one, eh.
Yes, with glorious summertime officially official, this stuff is
like a fresh tall drink on the spacious back patio of your
favourite bar or nightspot. Here's the recipe to use: just mix
BONOBO with company and drinks, shake a few times, add
ice, .and before you know it, good times, good times, good
times. Think we're kidding? Come on in and check this out
on our Downtempo Listening Booth. - £ /^
CD 16.98    2LP 19.98
UFESAVAS
Spirit In Stone CD/2LP
Headz up! This is an LP that's going to find its way into the
hearts and homes of all discerning hip-hoppers. The fact
that it represent from the Quannum school
of hard beats should be enough to sell you on this one.
Appearances by J-Live, Lyrics Born, Lateef, Blackalicious
and DJ Shadow wili doubtless serve to sweeten the deal. Oh,
and they're from Portland, which makes them practically
local as far as we're concerned.  Well see you at the record
store on July first!
CD 12.98
CD72LP 16.98
WHY?
OAKLANAZULASYLUM LP/CD
Genre is dead! Long live personality! In our ongoing effort.to
highlight outsider talent, Zulu's talent scouts are proud to
present the debut solo full-length by cLOUDDEAD emcee and
Anticon stalwart Why? More than the latest step in the devel- :.
opment of "post-rap", this is the first underground hip-hop
record that's as like to appeal to fans of Beck and The Flaming
Lips as it is to capture the hearts of backpack-sporting B-
boys'n'girls. It's as if WHY? started out with the usual beats-
and-rhymes formula, before surgically removing all traces of:
beats or rhymes until all that was left was the sound of his own
wounded-but-noble heart. This kind of courageous and brilliant
record is the true wave of the future — you mark our wordsf
LP 16.98   CD 22.98
Feeling out of place around the office water cooler
while your peers discourse knowingly on the finer
points of new wave, post punk and art-funk, both new
and old? Fear not, friends! No one should face such an
embarrassing predicament— EVER! As such, Zulu is
proud, happy and thankful to offer two great new compilations that'll help fill — indeed, heartily overfill - that
pesky knowledge deficit. "Leave no music fan behind,"
is our motto! " ,     %
Various Artists
New York Noise: Dance Music
From the New York
Underground CD/2LP
This is an awesome introduction to the best of the
currently way influential New York punk cum art-
funk bands of the early '80s. Featuring Liquid Liquid,
ESG, Konk, The Dance, Material, Lizzy Mercier
Descloux, Rahmelzee vs. K.Rob, Bush Tetras, Glenn
Branca, The Bloods, Dinosaur I, Theoretical Girls,
James White and The Blacks, Defunkt, and Mars.
And with the Soul Jazz seal of approval, you know this
comp is the shit. So long eBay. Who needs rare vinyl
when you've got a hot collection like this, and conveniently on CD, too? Skinny ties for all! AVAILABLE
JULY 8TH!
CD 22.98   2LP 24.98
Various Artists
Rough Trade Shop: Post Punk
12CD
Get up to speed quick with this massive 2CD set in
the Mute/Rough Trade shop collaboration series.
Featuring Gang Of Four, Bush Tetras, Les Georges
Leningrad, The Futureheads, The Pop Group, James
White And The Blacks, Liliput, World Domination
Enterprises, The Rapture, Blurt, Delta 5, Family
Fodder, The Slits, Gramme, The Rogers Sisters,
Magazine, Pigbag, The Raincoats, ESG, bIG fLAME,
Swell Maps, 23 Skidoo, The Au Pairs, Chicks On
Speed, New Age Steppers, Erase Errata, Public Image
Ltd, Shockheaded Peters, DNA, The Fall, Life Without
Buildings, Young Marble Giants, UK Decay, Crispy
Ambulance, Scritti Polltti, XTC, The Flying Lizards,
Mo-Oettes, The Prats, Fats Comet And The Big
Sound, Liquid Liquid, Essential Logic, Wire and
Maximum Joy. Holy shit! Problem solved!
2CD 29.98
OTHER STOCK:
Papa M-#3 CDEP
Akufen-MyWay12"
Lali Puna- Left Handed CDEP/12"
Pole-90/90 CDEP/12"
Amon Tobin- Veitoal Remixes 12"
Erase Errata- The Dancing Machine CD/12"
Super Friends- Love Energy CD
Ost-Whale Rider CD
Fourtet- Dialogue Reissue CD
Swayzak-Fabric 11 CD
Manitoba- Hendrix With KO CDEP/12"
MUSIC IN THE AFTERNOON
SUNDAY JULY 27th 4PM
DJ SIPREANO PRESENTS...
THE CANADIAN TALENT LIBRARY:
CANADIAN SOUND HERITAGE ON LP AND 45.
19SIXTYSOMETHING TO  19EIGHTYSOMETHING.
CK, PSYCH, PROG, FOLK, JAZZ, SOUL, FUNK, AND E-Z.
'K£afRL&\
Zulu Records
1972-1976 W 4th Ave
Vancouver. BC
tel 604.738.3232
www.zulurecords.com
STORE HOURS
Mon to Wed
10:30
-7:00
Thurs and Fr
10.30
-9:00
Sat
9:30
-6:30
Sun
12:00
-6:00

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