Discorder CITR-FM (Radio station : Vancouver, B.C.) 2006-07-01

Item Metadata


JSON: discorder-1.0050761.json
JSON-LD: discorder-1.0050761-ld.json
RDF/XML (Pretty): discorder-1.0050761-rdf.xml
RDF/JSON: discorder-1.0050761-rdf.json
Turtle: discorder-1.0050761-turtle.txt
N-Triples: discorder-1.0050761-rdf-ntriples.txt
Original Record: discorder-1.0050761-source.json
Full Text

Full Text

Jfy 2006
That newspaper magazine from CITR 101.9 FM
EsaEMm^^fOI .9FM    ^ |iiJ
Thu July 6th:
AU4 CD Release Party
@ SONAR (66 Water St)
Thu July 6th: HINTERLAND,
BELLA + Carbon Dating '
(1585 Johnston Street)
Granville Island 19pm
Orchid Highway + Mark Of The Beats
Sat July 8th: CONRAD CD Release
Billy Bones & The No Good Loud
Mouth Back Stabbing Jerks
+ Stephen Hedley / 8:30pm
@ The RAILWAY CLUB (579 Dunsmuir)
Sat July 15th: The KITCHEN and
9pm @ The MEDIA CLUB (695 Cambie)
Fri July 21st: HEY OCEAN! The FURIOS
Cheek + Seven O'Clock Scandal
8pm @ The LAMPUGHTER (210 Abbott Street)
Sat July 22nd: SUPERBEING Tour Kick-Off Part§
wl Jeff Johnson + guests I9pm @ MEDIA CLUB
Fri July 28th: LIONS IN THE STREET m   %
+ guests 8pm @The LAMPLIGHTER f|  'J
4MMbottJSt^§ II    r
8p^fBKEDIA CLim695 Cambie)
^mulypth:SHUKM& ELIAS   '.
HftA/e CD Release faffy wUmmSRes
■ Sat Aug 12th ThWEBrWiRYS, Orchid Highway, Fields to Flood + Elias
M@theMe<_l__plO__rt JfJ
matAu^mWight Cmmr Bentfgw/DJMW (of Tegan & Sara), The Flairs
^^pl Lamplighter
.CSa^g\9thE>JJNDA7ION EP Release Party @ the Backstage Lounge
. independent musicians unite . :*
Get full sh-ow   details at:
im uproducttons.com
2     July 2006
101 .9FIi
dululER TOUR 2006
Horror Rocks
from Bellingham, WA
plus guests
Slocan at Broadway
vfiwv.mysf>aee.com/cpup • www,hishpoiirtpra{lucJ30fts,»)m • 878-GoGo
ifssy fourth friday! * www.1nppace.ceRi/upR0p
*i MPmms
(Granville Island) Tnp»
David Ravensbergen
Art Director
Will Brown
Production Manager
Alanna Scott
Review Manager
Jordie Sparkle
Layout & Design
Will Brown
Alanna Scott
Will Brown
Marlo Carpenter
Arthur Krumins
Mike LaPointe
Quinn Omori
David Ravensbergen
Alanna Scott
Jordie Sparkle
Caroline Walker
Graeme Worthy
Photo & Illustration
Jenn Aird
Megan Bourne
Will Brown
Melanie Coles
Carson Daley
Ben Frey
Jackee Guillou
Sandra Kang
Sophia Kinachtchouk
Quinn Omori
Lucas Soi
Luke Meat
Lasse Lutick
US Distribution
Frankie Rumbletone
Student Radio Society
of UBC
3 The Gentle Art of Editing
David Ravensbergen
4 Eater's Digest
Coral Short
4 Riff Raff
Bryce Dunn
5 Cinema Aspirant
Allan Maclnnis
5 Strut, Fret and Flicker
Penelope Mulligan
6 Mixtape
6.. Spectres of Discord
7....... Textually Active
Inkstuds, Down By Law? Field Notes From A
14 Calendar
Sandra Kang
22.... Under Review
The Goslings, Pony Up!, Big Star, Andrew
Duke, Peaches, Shapes and Sizes, Six Organs of
Admittance, Mojave 3, The Blank-Its
24.... Real Live Action
The Boy Least Likely To, The Bicycles, Bright
Eyes, Sex Negative, The Apes, Liars
25.... CiTR Charts
The Dopest Hits of June 2006
26.... Program Guide
<*> OF
 W p
Music Waste
•~1.?.Fan Fiction: The
Age Of Electric
Mr. Lif
17,18,19 Juana Molina
Cover Photography By Melanie Coles Ws^_
© DiSCORDER 2006 by the Student Radio Society of the University of British Columbia. All rights
reserved. Circulation 10,000. Subscriptions, payable in advance, to Canadian residents are $15 for one
year, to residents of the USA are $15 US; $24 CDN elsewhere. Single copies are $2 (to cover postage);
Please make cheques or money orders payable to DiSCORDER Magazine. DEADLINES: Copy deadline
for the August issue is July 20th. Ad space is available until July 22nd and can be booked by calling
Caroline 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 material. Material can
be submitted on disc or in type or via email. As always, English is preferred, but we will accept French.
Actually, we won't. Send words to discordered@gmail.com and art to discorderart@gmail.com. From
UBC to Langley and Squamish to Bellingham, CiTR can be heard at 101.9 FM as well as through all major
cable systems in the Lower Mainland, except Shaw in White Rock. Call the CiTR DJ line at 822.2487,
our office at 822.3017, or our news and sports lines at 822.3017 ext. 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 up a goddamn pen and write
#233-6138 SUB Blvd., Vancouver, BC, V6T 1Z1, CANADA.
the Gentle Art of Editing
Whenever I sit down to write my
editorial I feel hke I'm composing an
acceptance speech for the Grammys. It's a
delicate balance to strike, trying to adequately
thank all the kind folks that help pull the
magazine together, and still have a few sound
bite-worthy bits for Entertainment Tonight.
Of course my parents, who've made this all
possible, simply must be mentioned, but I fear
if I start listing off names you'll be tempted to
change the channel and pick up a stray copy of
24 Hours instead. I imagine Grammy winners
go through the same gut-wrenching process
the eve before their big night. But when their
name finally gets called, all that meticulous
speech preparation goes out the window, and
they all reach for the sweaty napkin with the
dreaded list of thank-yous.
The night before everything is sealed up,
pdfd and sent to the printer is an emotional
time for us here at Discorder too. While this
month has featured the usual laughs and
occasional hysterics, the most prominent
feeling in my text-addled brain right now is
plain and simple fatigue. We've been cooped up
for days while the air outside is hot and thick
as molasses, and I've come down with some
ungodly variety of the whooping cough to
boot. Plus my serotonin levels have been at an
all-time low ever since the Netherlands lost in
that tragic match with Portugal (Hup, Holland,
hup...). It is in this vulnerable emotional state
that I find my grandiose plans for this little
block of text slipping away, and my need to
thank our lovely magazine staff growing ever
stronger. So big up to the production crew,
for sticking out the unreasonable hours and
creating a beautiful issue out of chaos. Much
appreciation to all who contributed text, even
if it didn't find its way into print this month.
Thanks to the loyal proofreaders, and the
attendees of the emergency strategy session
the night before final deadline. Finally, a
hearty pat on the back to everyone that helped
out with our guerilla distribution plan this
Taking a page from the book of Bono, no
Grammy speech/editorial is complete without
a mention of social activism or progressive
politics. I leave you this month with a call
for everyone to inform themselves about the
impending Gateway Project; if more pavement
doesn't strike you as a good solution to the
Lower Mainland's transportation woes, then
make your dissent heard! Jane Jacobs and a
group of concerned citizens halted the Spadina
Expressway in Toronto, and we can foil Kevin
Falcon's short-sighted plan here too. Check
out www.stophighwayexpansion.ca to learn
more, or visit www.thedemos.ca and tell your
MP how you feel about fossil fools.
David Ravensbergen, Editor
These songs may very well be about you,
changed to protect the innocent, since the powers
protect the innocent as a matter of heavenly courtesy.
The Dudes' brand new album "Brain,Heart,Guitar" c
addictive songs (hat capture their playful and intense live sound. An        ' _>_Z/f/">/
album made for that summer read trip you've been meaning to take.   yR^y*}_^P_5_>
vies have been ft\ <
of the universe lt\|
,«_,„ R_$
3 live sound. An _k-   l^^fr/'r/
par*. SS
1130 Commercial Drive
in town, doubles as a wonderfully
supportive live music venue, allowing
bands to play without charging
them for the space or taking any of
their money at the door. They don't treat
their diners too poorly either. My date and I
are seated at the back of the dim restaurant
with a lovely carpet hanging behind us,
surveying the room filled with candle-lit
tables and soft dark pillows on comfortable
couches and chairs. My fellow eater this
month, Miss Emily Beamer, proceeds to
order a mojito, which she exclaims several
times is the best she has ever ordered. For
aspiring bartenders, mojitos are composed
of crushed mint, sugar, lime juice, light
rum and club soda, and mix well with patios
and sunshine.
We start off with some Cacik, the
waitress's suggestion for the hot first day
of summer. The creamy yogurt with diced
cucumber, dried mint and sumac keeps
us riding high on the mint train, and
along the way we discover that the Turks
actually invented yogurt. I always knew
that tulips originally hail from Turkey, but
the yogurt fact comes as a revelation. The
food itself is a sensual epiphany—a zesty,
smooth, cool cucumber dip that comes with
the perfect proportion of pita. We almost
have that polished off when our hot starter
arrives, which unfortunately is not as
gobsmackingly good. We were all fresh and
perky from the first appetizer, but the second
item, the Sigara Boregi, just brings us down.
The mild feta with black sesame seeds in a'
spring roll-like wrap is just too greasy, and
the pomegranate sauce fails to live up to its
Persephonic reputation.
However, the service is charming and
beautiful, the atmosphere enchanting,
my date fabulous, and the mains arrive
to the appetizing sounds of a live jazz trio.
Upon consulting with the well-informed
waitress, I opt for the Karnibahar Graten,
and Emily has the Iskender Soslu Bursu
Kebap. These fanciful names require a bit of
an explanation, so let me break it down for
you. The Karnibahar Graten is described
as cauliflower baked in a bechamel sauce
(which is just a fancy word for white sauce),
topped with cheese. It turns out to be soft
cauliflower absolutely immersed in spicy,
ultra-creamy cheese. Emily's dish translates
as chunks of tenderloin kebab in Alexander
sauce, a rich and tasty clam/shrimp sauce.
Emily declares the kebabs to be delectably
tender, and the sauce "lovely and peppery."
The evening nearly ends in disaster,
as Emily, clad in her new beautiful white
summer dress, leans into her steak by
accident, smothering sauce all over her
nice rack. But even the stains can't ruin the
mood—the whole place is an aphrodisiac.
Wine and dine your date here, stare into their
candlelit eyes and there will be a delightful
party indeed,     (jl.
Bryce Dunn
0 *l|
to the all-Canadian edition of Riff Raff. Join
us as we traverse the tundra, parade through
the Prairies and land on Maritime shores in our
coverage of phonographic excellence from coast
to coast. Sorry to sound all Tommy Douglas on ya,
but we here at RR central get pretty excited when
we can unapologetically endorse our homegrown
talent. Beginning on home turf of course with
Raised by Wolves, three cuts recorded in "Howl-O-
Phonic" sound from an older batch of recordings
grace a new seven inch.' These cats break down in
tornado-like fashion with their call-to-arms theme
song, "Raised by Wolves," then proceed to "Burn
it All Down" with a huff and a puff and some hot
twin guitar action". "Caveman Stomp" on the flip
does exactly what it says, and would make any
Neanderthal shake and shimmy to the garage beat.
(Zaxxon Records, www.zaxxonrecords.com)
Just over the Rockies in Calgary is a new
dance-punk phenomenon known as Sudden Infant
Dance Syndrome. No babies were harmed in the
making of their debut 7" platter, but after spazzing
out to the five tracks on this EP, it's"definitely gonna
leave a mark. Each of the tracks has a slightly
different take on the new wave of New Wave, so
it keeps things interesting. From the barely 40-
second shout-along of "(Who You Gonna Take to
the) Prom," with its manic drumming and crash-
bang keyboard clang, to copping a page from The
Blood Brothers songbook on "Dr. Awkward," with
its choppy guitar and helium-induced vocals,
there's plenty bounce for the ounce here. The kids
are hot tonight, whoa, so hot tonight, but where
will they be tomorrow? Probably dancing up a
storm to SIDS. (This is DIY, kids, so order it from
Over the fields we go, we go to Ontario,
and the capital city of Ottawa for The Fucking
Machines. These guys are pissed off, and for good
reason—somebody stole their quarterl And they
named their EP after this discouraging event! And
it takes two singers to tell you! Musically, these
guys worship at the altar of Black Flag and make
no apologies for it—the five songs laid down here
are short, fast and loud. 'Nuff said. (Last Drag
Records, www.Iastdragrecords.com).
Finishing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, the
Department of Tourism, Culture and Heritage
has some 'splaining to do with their split single
ambassadors Gilbert Switzer and The Hold.
Travellers from abroad will be shocked to learn
that this is not Great Big Sea or whatever Celtic
banner Nova Scotians want to use to welcome you;
these are the bands Bart Simpson would have used
to piss off the non-locals like he did in that famous
episode. Gilbert Switzer are noisy and bratty punk,
like early nineties bands Cows or God Bullies from
the Am Rep stable, and The Hold are angry young
men and women who sound like a cross between
Crass and Submission Hold, speaking about the
vices of alcohol, crime and being oppressed by
"the man". Certainly not the majestic picture one
would paint of the wonderful Maritime province,
but then again, there's something good brewing
over there other than beer and its worth checking
out. (Divorce Records, 2687 Fuller Terrace Halifax,
Nova Scotia B3K 3V9).    ,-
4     July 2006 CINEMa ASPIRANT
Allan Maclnnis
Vision of
Bela Tarr
Do you ever wonder where the Antonionis,
the Tarkovskys, the Bergmans, and the
Cassavetes of today are? Is the reason that there
seem to be no heirs to these filmmakers that
there are actually no auteurs who are producing
sufficiently morally and aesthetically ambitious
works to fill such sizeable shoes? Or are there great
filmmakers currently active who are simply not
being widely talked about?
For whatever reason, Hungarian filmmaker
Bela Tarr, currently at work on his ninth feature, is
only just beginning to get the recognition he merits.
Thoughheiscompared by those critics who triumph
his work, like the late Susan Sontag or the Chicago
Reader's Jonathan Rosenbaum, to Cassavetes,
Antonioni, and Tarkovsky, most people I mention
him to draw a blank. I'll be projecting from DVD
what is generally regarded as Tarr's masterpiece,
Werckmeister Harmonies (2000) at Blim on July 21st
(www.blim.ca). His other master work, Satantango,
which won the Caligari Film Prize at the 1994
Berlin International Film Festival, is 7 hours long
and currently only available in a somewhat inferior
and, for me, unwatchable bootleg DVD. Facets are
working on an official, multi-disc release as of this
writing. I'm not thrilled with Facets' presentation
of Tarr's work—DVDs are without extras and have
non-removable subtitles—but since they are at
least making his films available, it seemed an ideal
time to write about him.
It may already seem odd to compare a
filmmaker to both Cassavetes and Tarkovsky,
two filmmakers who could not be more different.
This is because, generally speaking, Tarr's work
falls into two distinct periods. When he was
a young filmmaker in socialist Hungary, his
primary concern was to depict the bleak social
conditions around him. The Prefab People (1982)
is generally regarded as the best of these films,
and focuses on two people trapped in an unhappy
relationship. Like Cassavetes' Faces, it's filmed in
black and white, using a rough-hewn, handheld
aesthetic. Like Faces, 4he film doesn't wince at
showing us its characters at their most pathetic
and embarrassing, and individual scenes carry on
far beyond the point where the audience starts to
squirm. Our self-perceptions end up being affected,
since we can't help but recognize ourselves on
screen. The film isn't as powerful as Faces—in
the end, it seems a rather "small" film, though
admirable and effective—but the comparison
to Cassavetes is worthy. (So is comparison to the
work of British social reajist filmmaker Ken Loach,
though Loach's politics might sit ill with Tarr, for
whom life in socialist Hungary was by no means a
worker's paradise).
Starting with 1988's Damnation, however,
things began to change. The gritty, verite style
is replaced with something more composed and
poetic, and individual shots begin to extend to
great lengths, with Tarr's camera tracking through
elaborately choreographed scenes in single takes.
(Those familiar with Gus van Sant's later works
might note that van Sant is imitating Tarr, though
to no great effect). Werckmeister Harmonies, which
lasts for 145 minutes, is comprised of a mere 39
shots. The longest of those, the opening sequence—
in which the philosophically-minded naif Valushka
directs the drunks in a bar in a dance meant to
illustrate the motions of the sun, the earth, and
the moon—lasts for eleven minutes, a constraint
imposed on Tarr by the fact that that's how long
Kodak's rolls of film are. The slow, dreamlike black
and white camerawork has a hypnotizing effect on
the viewer.
Werckmeister Harmonies and Satantango were
both made after the fall of socialism in Hungary.
Both based on novels by Laszlo Karsznahorkai,
which Tarr's partner, Agnes Hranitzky, helped
adapt, the sheer beauty of the cinematography
and the metaphysical scope of Tarr's project truly
do make the films Tarkovskian (an adjective often
mis-applied to any art film from the former socialist
bloc, but quite fitting here). Tarr shows a universe
out of order, where people are drawn into chaos
and conflict for lack of a spiritual centre, and odd
events—such as the arrival of a preserved whale
in a truck, in Werckmeister Harmonies—take on a
bizarre and resonant meaning. Tarr is reluctant
to discuss the meaning of his work, but even if
one fails to fully understand what his films are
"about," one cannot but be overwhelmed by their
images. The opening tracking shot iii Satantango,
of cows wandering around a field, is one of the
most affecting images I've seen, though why it
should be so is in fact somewhat puzzling to me.
Tarr's films teach a new way of seeing to those
who engage with them, which places him in good
company with the greats of European filmmaking
of the 1960s and 70s.
Tarr's next film, The Man from London, was
adapted for Tarr by Karsznahorkai from Georges
Simenon's thriller. The story of this film, the
initial shoot of which was interrupted when the
producer committed suicide, makes for a bizarre
read, but I'll direct those interested to IMDB for
more. Meanwhile, come to Blim on the 21st for
Werckmeister Harmonies. Tarr's films should be
seen projected, even if off DVD.    t
Penelope Mulligan
The Ayden Gallery
Friday June 16
have always done business with each other.
After all, fashion shows need some degree of
choreography, and dance works usually require
costuming. What this event attempted, however,
was a much deeper kind of collaboration—dance
and fashion arts so mutually embedded that no one
was a hired gun.
The show's title references Greek mythology's
Three Fates: Clotho who spins the thread of life;
Lachesis who determines its length; and Atropos
who cuts it off—kind of the ultimate stitch-and-
bitch. Though the works presented weren't always
tied to the theme, a mood of ritual and fantasy
The evening began with salon-like class as
soprano Christine Buhr performed an aria from
Puccini's La Boheme. In the pieces that followed,
contemporary dancers animated garments that,
for the most part, are only found in role-play and
dreamlife. A pity, because some of this clobber was
gorgeous—layers and wraps, slits and pouches,
tunics and tulle. We should all dress like this more
In "What to Do?", choreographer Holly Holt
and her two dancers blindfolded themselves before
beginning a series of moves that riffed on the spirals
and contractions of Martha Graham. Their sense of
space was acute, as they ended in exactly the same
spots as they began. Ronya Lake's "When Crucifer
Fell from the Sky" was rocked by a major wardrobe
malfunction when a stretchy top sproinged
underneath a dancer's breasts. Leaving aside the
question of why the garment wasn't road tested at
rehearsal, it was interesting to note that it was a
much better fit where it landed. To the performers'
credit, nobody missed a beat of the mercilessly
bouncy choreography. Deb Head worked the fate
idea in a more literal way with "Prognostications,"
in which dancer Julia Carr recited weather reports
and distributed scratch-and-win tickets while
executing technically precise movements. Carr
danced flawlessly, taming Monica Strehike's prom
queen gown like a highly-strung debutante, but
the piece felt somewhat forced and pretentious.
On a couple of occasions, the programme was
punctuated by burlesque winks at the catwalk
as "collections" were strutted out. My favourite
was designer Tyr Jami's vamping, lolly-sucking
assortment of slags in ripped tights. Jami also
costumed Lisa Gough's charming "The Dwarf, the
Rose and the Swallow." Beautifully choreographed
and cheekily performed, it featured a trio of
historically punky characters who filled the space
like elegant drunks. Kris Mitchel's music collage—
particularly the Elizabethan stuff—worked a
But it was with the last offering that we saw
the show's goal fully realized. In "The Dreamers,"
Gretchen Eisner's garments were not merely
what the dancers wore. They were part of a subtle
narrative and integral to Kristine Richmond's
choreography. Exquisite flaps at the hips of skirts
opened to reveal tiny embroidered worlds that were
displayed to the audience. At times; lite performers
seemed to be peeling back layers of their own skin.
Set to the music of Sigur Ros, it was an eerie and
provocative watch.
Music duo Chunks & Doosley rounded out the
night with a short set that was extremely funky
and tight, though it was odd to see a guy toiling
righteously on baritone sax while his partner sat
grooving away to the sounds coming out of his
The Ayden is an ideal venue for blending indie
fashion with performance. Along with sculpture
and two-dimensional art, the gallery sells clothing
by many of the shows' designers. Its setting in the
strange wasteland of International Village gives it
a dreamlike quality that's starting to work in its
There are some good reasons for tearing
Days of Heaven
yourself away from the gorgeousness of summer
evenings to sit in a big, dark room. They're called
films and, provided you choose them well, you'll
be fine. Besides, retrospectives—a summer staple
of art house cinemas—are a great way to catch up
on things you missed, buff up your film history or
experience the cult hits of other generations, often
in spanking new prints.
This month's hands-down recommendation
is a serving of Terrence Malick, perhaps best
known for his 1973 debut. Badlands, in which a
murderous teenaged couple (Martin Sheen and
Sissy Spacek) goes on the lam. Consisting of only
four films, with the second and third separated by
20 years, Malick's is a curious body of work. His
existential war film, 1998's The Thin Red Une
may be more relevant than ever, while last year's
critically divided and theatrically short-lived The
New World is up for re-evaluation. The greatest
treasure, though, has to be Days of Heaven, his
sophomore film from 1978. The first time I caught
this was on a crappy black and white television
and I could still hardly believe the slow, gonad-
grabbing beauty of what I was seeing.
Summer of Malick plays the Vancity Theatre from
July 14-18. Call 604-683-3456 or visit www.vi/c.
org for times.    ^:
Discorder     5 rv<ji
Since the Spring of 2004, Duffy Dreidiger and his band
of hairy men have been peddling their brand of backyard
rock in sweaty venues all over Vancouver.•The perfect
soundtrack to shotgurming Pilsners, the Ladyhawk sound
can now be taken out of the bar and into your bedroom
with the release of their self-titled debut. We asked them
to compose this month's mixtape, and the following list
eventually trickled into our inbox. No doubt hangovers
and an upcoming North American tour got in the way
of any further description, but we can only assume that
they enjoy these songs.
Photo by Quinn Omori
1. Light: Look at Your Sun | Ash Ra Tempel
2. Slow Death | The Flamin' Groovies
3. Morning Dew | Grateful Dead
4. Bertha | Grateful Dead
5. Penetration \ Iggy + The Stooges
6. The Freezing Moon (live) | Mayhem
7. Salmon Falls | Harry Nilsson
8. Darling Nikki | Prince
9. Witch Queen of New Orleans | Redbone
10. Breathing NovmWonderboy
11. Stranglehold | Ted Nugent
12. Blue Sky Mine \ Midnight Oil
13. Here is the House | DepecheMode
14. I Am the Resurrection | The Stone Roses
15. Got to Give it Up | Thin Lizzy
16. The Things I Do for Money | The Northern Pikes
17. The Man in Me | Bob Dylan
18. Effigy I Creedence Clearwater Revival
19. The Dark Ages | S.T.R.E.E.T.S
20. Ophelia | The Band
21. Kill the King | Rainbow
Looking over old issues of that magazine
from CiTR 101.9fm gives me a funny feeling
sometimes, like the past captured in those
yellowing newsprint pages really isn't very distant
at all.
This morning, I woke to up to CBC radio
and a discussion of the gay marriage debate in
Canada. The program was "The Contrarians",
a show that focuses on unpopular opinions and
unconventional ideas. Today's unconventional
notion? Apparently, some gay people don't want
to get married. I lay in bed listening to people
debate the merit of marriage in any variation until
I gathered the strength to heave my corpse off the
mattress and into the shower. After I'd caffeinated
myself to a semblance of life, I made my way to UBC
to leaf through the Discorder Archives at CiTR.
When I'm going through the archives,
I'm always surprised by the number of names
I recognize. After all, I didn't gain any sort of
cultural consciousness until 1995 at the earliest.
But I can almost always find a few bands I know,
or Discorder writers I remember. Today, the words
"Bronski Beat" brought me to this month's Spectre
of Discord: Lloyd Uliana's interview with S03,
the synth and guitar player for the Belgian gay
industrial group a;GRUMH (July 1990). I read the
following excerpt with something like deja vu:
Discorder: Right wing homophobia and AIDS
hysteria have pushed the topic of legalised
homosexual marriage to the forefront in North
America... What are your views on homosexual
So3: I don't care personally about weddings and
marriage: 1 don't see why I should ask permission,
authorisation or any kind of regulation about my
decision to live with somebody or not to live with
somebody ... Of course, homosexual people living
together shouldhave the same rights as heterosexual
people living together but this has nothing to do with
marriage in itself.
Uliana goes on to mention a few other
bands: Bronski Beat, as I mentioned. Ministry and
Vancouver's own Front Line Assembly. This gave
me another start—has anyone else noticed the
posters for Front Line Assembly currently plastered
all over Commercial Drive? Between the continued
gay marriage debate and apparent resurgence of
local industrial acts, it seems like not much has
changed in the 16 years between the July '90 issue
and this one. I told myself that I was only eight
when the 1990 issue came out, I'm too young to
feel Discorder deja vu. And yet...
It's pretty much the same trippy feeling I get
from reading Phillip K. Dick. His sci-fi visions of
the future—surveillance technology, totalitarian
states and corporate agendas—have remained
compelling because they still feel conceivable.
But some small details stick out and ring false: a.
character in the distant future gets out of a hover-
car to use a phone booth, or types a message on
a typewriter. Typewriters and phone booths?
Alongside rocket ships and laser guns? These
details are sometimes the only thing that reminds
me that these stories were written decades ago.
They leap out like ancient artifacts in an otherwise
familiar landscape.
Old issues of Discorder read much the
same way. The cultural landscape seems almost
the same: the same points are made in the same
debate I woke up to this morning, the same band
names recirculate. Only the details change.
Instead of phone-booths and typewriters, we have
compact discs (not CDs) and cassingles, and full-
page ads for the most cutting-edge Walkman that
money can buy.   ^
Field Notes from a Catastrophe, Bound By Law? Tales from the Public Domain,
Drawn & Quarterly Showcase, Mome
Field Notes from a Catastrophe
; by Elizabeth Kolbert    JJ5t§|j|
from a
Elisabeth Kolbert
As  I   remember JL9gl.
P^tonjc, SAVE. THE
^iftfifflSIS sweatsittW1wl^,
nary an 'alarmist' from any
of my Grade 4 peers—not
TWffu fislmjosh, the kid with
a bomber jaclet "ana MT
Saddam! shoulder patch.'
Yet today, a popular science
writer intent on reporting
climate change must first
waste energy outing; i the^
handful of stallers in U.S.
* government who insist oj^-a
"sound science" that gives
; j equalmeasureto Genesis and
thermohaline circulation. In
a perfect world; they would
all defer to the definitive
j voice of Arnold Schwarzenegger who, before signing a Kyoto-like
order to reduce carbon emissions in California, declared "I say the
debate is ov_r?* ".liCi UjCV^f OCCtlO|l
Field Notes from a Catastrophe is a roving report, which travels to
places like Sarichef island, Alaska, whetCMJ Inupiat village is set to
be relocated due to late-freezing, early-melting sea ice, or to Wistow,
England, where the Polygon_£Mmbiim, known as the Comma, has
recently shifted its range north along with twenty-one other species
of butterfly. Besides taking pains to cement the long history and
current consensus of climatology, the book highlights the areas of
the world most sensitive to climate change, as well as research on
'feedbacks' in the climate system, such as the lost reflectivity of polar
'^id&Hm&k will ampl$$y*the already major climactic shifts of our
Written by Elizabeth Kolbert, a former New York Times reporter,
the book began, like Silent Spring, as a series of articles for the New
Yorker magazine. Kolbert writes with the same sober wit as the
Russian permafrost expert who shows her cracked houses and
"drunk" trees in Fairbanks, Alaska, where a network of thermokarsts,
or wedge-shaped holes left by melted permafrost, has sent the trees
careening. "These trees,are very drunk," he says, when they come
across some fallen spruces.
Stacked against Tim Flannery's The Weather Makers, Field Notes
is a terser primer on climate change, without Flannery's relentless
optimism and direct exhortations to again take up the rally Silent
Spring started for the l^stjpeneration. Kolbert, who reported on U.S.
politics for fourteen years, also details the scuttling Kyoto and its
successors, as well as the talking-points haze induced by PR officials
who have the job of explaining the environmental policy of Bush-
Cheney. She takes a balanced, realist's view of global politics vis a vis
climate change, and takes time to note positive examples, such as the
city of Burlington, Vermont, where council decided to jump ahead
of the federal government and reduce greenhouse gas emissions by
10 percent.
Flannery and Kolbert both point out how hurricane Katrina
seemed finally to personalize the potential effect of global warming
for many of the naysayers (in Canada, we have Hans Island and the
strange, happy prospect of sovereignty over new arctic shipping
lanes). There are many other, more succinct examples of climate
change around the globe. In the Netherlands, a $349 million plan is
underway to flood land that was painfully reclaimed from the sea, in
order to allow rivers to swell in the new local climate where rainfall
will increase dramatically. Field Notes from a Catastrophe takes
readers to several such flashpoints and concludes that so far, ours is
an advanced society in the process of destroying itself.
Andy Hudson
Bound Bylaw? Tales from the Public Domain
by Keith Aoki, James Boyle and Jennifer Jenkins
DukeCenter fortheStudy of the Public Doimd^M
"Pair use^-H&e it or
lo& itHf:|$, the battle cry
of Bound by Law?, a comic
book primer on copyright
culture and '' creative
expression. Written by
'"thrde stodgy academics"
from Duke Law School,
the first issue of Bound
by Law tells the tale of
Akiko, documentary
filmmaker and copyright
newbie. Akiko's new
;^^EPCr filled with
footage of copyrighted
culture: scraps of songs,
logos, works of art, and
architecture. What does
she have to clear? How
much would it cost?
Why are the documentary makers of 2006 taking precautions that
were barely a consideration before? As Akiko navigates the basics
of intellectual property law, two savvy law profs explain fair use,
copyright culture, and the public domain.
Bound By Law? isn't perfect—it can be a little hard to read, visually
speaking, and Keith Aoki's illustrations aren't my favourite. But it's
way more fun than an academic article, and not many people offer up
i^^j|^pl®|te]8ua8e- Thank you, Duke LawSchool, for bridging
the gap! As digital technology makes it easier and easier to produce
and distribute art, knowing an artist's rights is a huge priority for
every artist and culture critic. Even if you never branch into the
further reading listed in its back pages, nor visit its recommended
websites, Bound by Law? is a quirky comic well worth reading.
Drawn & Quarterly Showcase, Mome
Given the daunting
number of comic artists
out there, anthologies
are a useful way to gauge
which comics speak to
you directly. Publishers
Fantagraphics and
Drawn & Quarterly have
both been collecting
some of the most
dynamic up-and-comers
in comicdom. Mome is
Fantographics' way of
revisiting the spirit of
Robert Crumb's Weirdo
magazine, with a stellar
rotation of artists.
Drawn & Quarterly cash
in their reputation for
top quality goods with
the aptly titled, Drawn & Quarterly Showcase.
I picked up Mome on a lark, having recognized a handful of the
names inside, though most were unfamiliar. Designed by a notable
scribbler, Jordan Crane, each edition has a strongly stylized design
which makes each Mome appear to be one in a series of art books,
rather than Just another comic. Two of the well-knowns in Mome
are Jeffery Brown and Sophie Crumb (daughter of Robert and Aline
Kominsky-Crumb). Their contributions are pretty much on par with
their respective acclaim, and Mome is weU worth the purchase for
One of the artists Mome exposed me to is Jonathan Bennett, and
I've since been a devoted fan. His work is reminiscent of Adrian
Jjsn||Bfcjan<j Richard Tommaso, but his writing and storytelling
maintains such a strength of its own that Bennett will be a big name
once he has a larger body of work to peruse. His tales reflect a eerfcainj
loneliness, but rather than falling into easy traps Of self-loathing and
isolation, his stories open an internal dialogue which is both artistic
and philosophical. . J«?k
Along with Jeffery Brown, Paul Hornschemeier and Anders
_Jisea are members of the Chicago-based artists* coalition, The Holy
Consumption. Both contribute to Mome and both push sequential
boundaries. Nilsen's Mome contributions Bold an odd conversation
with readers, in which he breaks down the fourth wall. He uses
sparsely drawn characters to tell an original narrative which could
stand well enough on its dialogue, but is nicely accentuated by
Nilsen's fine draftsmanship. Normally, Nilsen's art is very detailed
and meticulously rendered, but here his experiment in storytelling
shows a security in his art.
Hornschemeier's ongoing Mome series, "Life wi%^|j|togerous,"
is an engaging story about the sadness and solitude faced by a young
lady alone on her birthday. "Life with Mr. Dangerous" seems in tune
with the work of Chris Ware, but Hornschemeier is able to infuse it
with his own style and to create an accessible character who speaks
to readers on a personal level.
True to name, the Drawn & Quarterly Showcase showcases really
new, exciting, international talent—work which would be otherwise
nearly impossible to find. Each^|_Kfeatures three artists of distinct
styles, creating an annual
compendium of comix sure to
intrigue nearly every reader.
Some stand-outs include
Sammy Harkham, Genevieve
Elverum, Jeffrey Brownf»|ftlI*|
Pentti Otsamo.
Sammy Harkham is the
creator and curator of the
masterful Kramers Ergot
collection of fine comix. In
Drawn & Quarterly he pieces
togglier, touching, personal
stories reminiscent of
Chester Brown and Jordan
Crane. Crane's work achieves
a certain dream-state quality,
while Harkham spins his tale of midsummer tedium and sadness in
a similarly smooth, lush style, using minimal colouring to reflect the
mood of the piece. Entitled "Somersaulting," the piece is a coming of
age story about a group of friends dealing with tragedy and budding
relationships in their melancholy and awkward years. This is the
only work by Harkham I've read, but after this I'll need to hunt more
Genevieve Elverum has published small press editions of her work,
mostly in French or without any dialogue at all; her art can carry itself
on its own strength, being so rich and moving. Elverum's contribution
is a surreal drama titled "We're Wolf, " in which she illustrates the
weird mating practices of a cute elfish couple who are secluded away
in a very snowy, Canadianesque mountain range—a Great North
which evokes whimsy and wonderment. Elverum is one of the most
compelling new talents to crop up in Canada, and she will definitely
be one to watch for once her work is easier to come by.
Both these anthologies are well worth checking out. I could go on
about the other amazing artists collected in them, but this shortlist
speaks for itself. For more information on the comix out there, listen
to the Inkstuds show, every Thursday at 2pm on CITR. And don't
forget to subscribe to our podcasts at www.crowncommisslon.com/
inkstuds for interviews with some of the artists mentioned above.
Robin McConnell    *.
Over the next few pages you'll find reports, anecdotes and
downright lies from the Sasquatch Festival, May 26-28 at
The Gorge in Washington; North by Northeast, June 8-10
throughout Toronto; and Vancouver's own Music Waste, June
1-4 in the lovely Downtown Eastside. If it's objective reporting
you're after, We suggest you stick to the photographs, but if you
don't mind a little individual interpretation, enjoy our madcap
tour around the festival circuit No disrespect to the bands, because the weekend's lineup was a formidable one; literally something for
everyone. But it was Mother Nature that would stand as tJieWstivaVs most memorable performer.
way through a
lone song before
a little thunder started to shout down her powerful
pipes. At first, the few rolling claps were only followed by
a smattering of rain, but shortly after the skies opened
up and unleashed a torrent of the most ridiculous hail
Idol-style rendering of the songioff of Multiply. Rather
than pressing play on a DAT machine, the man who
makes up half of electro superstars Supercollider built
up each song individually, from a combination of prerecorded beats, on-the-fly keyboard riffs, and live
samples of his own voice. Some songs stuck quite closely
to their recorded counterparts, but for the most part,
his set was a how-to lesson for electronic artists who
I've ever seen. I say "ridiculous," because, in all honesty, C think firing up Reason on a PowerBook and twiddling
people were giggling about the marble sized balls of ice 3 a few knobs can pass as a performance. The breakdown
at first—until we realized it wasn't about to stop. The Qof "When I Come Back Around" jammed like a one-man
band persevered for one more song before Neko gave a 2 techno Grateful Dead, and "A Little Bit More," with its
helpless smile and quipped, "We'll be right back." She
never returned to the water-logged stage. In fact, the
25-minute downpour ended up producing a two hour
delay on the main stage, and the only cancellations
due to inclement weather in the more than two decade
history of the Gorge, effectively killing the side stages
for the day.
Getting soaking wet is never fun, but in retrospect,
the freakish precipitation really added to the event.
Strangers held hands and splashed about in the
formidably deep puddles. Dudes who had clearly had
one too many overpriced tall boys slid down the muddy
hills to the exuberant efaeers of onlookers. A group of
people huddled under a smuggled-in tarp near the main
stage. A smaller group under the same tarp offered to
share their blow, which they were snorting right out of
the plastic bag (I declined). At one point, I found myself
crammed into a port-a-potty with three strangers (from
Vancouver, Wa and Portland, Oregon), one of whom
kindly shared her contraband booze in an effort to fight
the cold. Would I have preferred to stay dry and see
Neko put in a full set? Of course. But, if nothing else,
everyone who attended the Saturday of the festival has
a story to tell.
I started off Sunday by taking in Jamie Lidell's set
at the re-opened side stage. While he creates electronic-
based music, he wasn't about to call in an American
It was with wet pants, welted feet, and
a belly full of bear claws that I wiggled
' through sweaty teenagers to get a
better view of The Shins. We had endured
a five-hour drive, eked out our square of
camping lawn, marched through perfectly
good rattlesnake habitat, basked in Iron
and Wine's inspiring set, and survived an
apocalyptic hail-storm (hence the pants
and feet). I can only assume that Neko'
Case survived as well. An hour earlier!
she had gathered up her gear and pride >
and made a run for it, never to return. I'm '
pretty sure she didn't get electrocuted. To .
be honest though, I was preoccupied with
protecting my toes and beer at the time.
Maybe someone should check up on her.
From my vantage through bobbing
shag-cuts and rain-coat hoods, The Shins
were taking turns with the halo provided
by the setting sun. James sang "Fate isn't
what we're up against" and I'm pretty
sure he meant the weather, just this once.
A girl standing to my left with smeared
eyeliner sang every word of every song.
A kid behind me in full raingear tapped
me several times on the shoulder to tell
me that he was from Portland and that
the band also now lives in Portland. The
giant TV screen loomed over us, tempting
the crowd's gaze away from the live
view. Everyone had a digital camera and
everyone had the same fuzzy picture of a
silhouetted guitar player.
The Shins played like we all expected
them to play, like we were in their
basement waiting for kool-aid and our
turn with the nintendo. I closed my eyes
and saw wood paneling. I can't imagine
it's easy to make tens of thousands of
people feel like they know what you're
talking about. I wouldn't know where to
start. I'm glad they figured it out though.
It was the difference between going to
a festival and feeling completely alone
and going to a festival and feeling like
everyone is somehow the same. One is
much better than the other.
On the way home we managed to
squeak in a visit to the Petrified Gingko
State Park. We learned that the Gorge
was formed during the last glaciation by
a giant ice dam that created a lake the
size of Lake Erie and Ontario put together.
When the ice dam receded and broke,
all that water rushed out to the ocean,
carving out the gorge on its way. So, if
it wasn't for the Ice Age, there would be
no Sasquatch Festival. That's one more
reason to be grateful for glaciation.
chest shaking bass apd squealing echo can only be
described as an utterly delightful mindfuck.
No offense to anyone who starts swooning when
they hear Ben Gibbard's dainty lyricism, but JE'd rather
wait in a 20 minute line up to buy overpriced, crappy
American.beer than pay attention to Death Cab. I
actually took a nap instead, awaking in time to squeeze
onto the floor for Beck.
Everyone's favourite indie rock Scientologist
must have thought he had a score to settle with Wayne
Coyne after the Flaming Lips and their army of waltzing
mascots blew him off the stage night after night when
they toured together a couple of years ago, because his
stage show pulled out all the stops. Backed by a sizable
band and accompanied by a break dancer, Beck also
shared the spotlight with a miniature version of the
stage, and a set of doppelganging puppets. Broadcast
onto a screen at the back of the real stage, puppet
Beck and his band mimicked their living counterparts
almost exactly, thanks to a quartet of very talented
string pullers. The attention to detail was astounding,
with Mr. Hansen's puppet counterpart even changing
guitars at the appropriate time. With the spectacle
going on behind them, they probably could've got away
with calling in a half-assed performance, but the band
was tight as hell, and the songs sounded sharp, without
being exact replicas of their recorded counterparts.
Photos by Melanie Coles uomo uumQ
,/psq 3jb saiuBdmoo \iq„ puB ,/saiOA
jsom aqj joS i 'jng„ „-jiArpB uBumq Aq paiBjapoos si Suiuhbm
jBqojo,, 'soissBp aipui siq uuojjad jgujajui aqj jo Jaqrej aqj aas
oj n qjjOM JJ3M sbm ji 'juojj _jajBS jBuosjad aqj uo issaun am
apsra Moqs aqj oj jaS oj _a__< juio_ qSnojqj Supppj} anqM jsaj
UMOjSamoq aq; ioj jBja.p dnoo e sbm axm_3 UBqg aqj ye Moqs
jqSra _Bpsanqx b joj ajog \y SuipuBj jnq 'dn-xira Suimpaqos
ppo aqj uaaq aABq Asm ajaqx UBa_ sup jmziubSjo _pood„
guraq ajSByv\ oisnj^ moqs s^uiBjduioo jo guuajjBuis b pjBaq i
Fake Shark Real Zombie at the Ukrainian Hall,
Saturday, June 3
Bakelite at the Columbia—post-punch, Saturday, June 3
pie Punks at Pic Pub, Friday, June 2
18 I < § | ^ s 11
| I"! S"H 1* t Z
y •"*
noise fa
ent pre
ites in
se these
g about
which i
Pic w
jSHPkP'S § «8 ja -S 8 _5.2
i 5.5 3._ | g^2 - aa_ 1»
June 1 -4 proved an organizational nightmare. No wonder the    ■ 1
team at Onli/ Magazine goes on summer hiatus after this little I
stunt they pull annually on the Downtown Eastside. M 1
This night was one wet mutha, but the shear
force of my will and loyalty to the cause found
me down at Pat's just in time to see technical
difficulties. Without the shitty music playing
you can have a beer and pleasant conversation.
After some scrambling on the part of the
organizers and a no-show band, the night was
ostensibly back on track. Ignoring my better
sense I braved the downpour and found myself
at the Pic in time forlThe Mutators' seUPerhaps ;
it was the drink, but I am now the proud owner !
of an oversized tee proclaiming "I like mutators, j
ok". The statement holds true in sobreity too! I
Wish I caughtjAl Gore's set.!     !
(most concentrated industrial center in BC aka
Gold Pan City)
Friday and Saturday found me visiting my
90-year old grandmother that I hadn't seen in
nearly a decade at my parent's (and gasp—my
adolescent) home in Quesnel. That bitch is by
far the most impressive thing I witnessed all
weekend and that is no slag against MW.
It seems that the back, to back all ages
§< shows at the I Ukrainian Hall [were a hit with
S: the people appropriate to such a venue. I
"■ respect that all ages show exist and would
g. even say, yes, there should probably be more.
jg However, I'm not sad I missed this, because it
^ doesn't seem right for me to rain scorn upon
c those blissfully ignorant that something better
j§- exists. Plus, standing in darkened periphery
; while the young ones flutter about makes me
! feel like a total creep, and perhaps I share my
|Grandmother's desire to discipline!!! Rather
I disappointed that I didn't see that asshole from
[Zulu getting the ol' bear hug from the bounce
| at the Pic on Friday. Oh, and apparently Sean
lOrr got punched in the head at The Columbia
Ion Saturday duringiBakelite's set.jRuckus!
Very little reason to be anywhere else tonight.
Unlike the other nights of MW that found
the line-ups begging for venue shifting, the
Columbia on Sunday was solid. Arrived in the
midstofTheParallels' setandstayedtillthebitter
end. The big cap of the evening and perhaps the
entirety of MW was the unexpected appearance
of The Book of Lists at the end of Anemones'
set. They played one song, their best of course,
and were appreciated. To preface, there was a
certain amount of controversy surrounding
the Book of Lists non-participation in MW and
their treatment by Only. A month after the fact,
if you don't know about it whatever and if you
do...well, whatever. In the end, what mattered
was that Sean Orr was there. If ever was distilled
the spirit of Music Waste this is it: Not only do
you get a punch in the head, but you return
to the scene of the punch in the head the very
next night. A fine way to end what amounted
to a festival that delivered what it promised to:
music and waste. There you have it, my Music
Waste 2006
Caroline Walker
Portland's Bird Costumes at The Pic Pub, Friday, June 2
Photo by Sarah Cordingley
(puvdq dniq <$ ui/of Buoi) S9jmid uipd
'SuiqjAUB 3>iq Aqeaj j.uop 3m pus
•aAqe ajio sun Suidaasj %p\ sSuiqj pooS K\ao aqj jo auo si a?SBM oismn -UMOjq spuim
ano pBq aM jBqj jobj aqj mojj pbjjsto jou pip 'spusq aqj jo auo sb \\om. sb dn SuiMoqs
„u3 punos b jo 3[aBi aqj -ami} jaijaq b pBq aABq iou pmoo aM -jjuBjp aM pajtBjd aM
The Mutators sell
Lucas Soi
PUB 3_D	
The venue provided a decent atmosphere
for the eclectic punk inspired festival. The
event sponsor Only magazine put its flag up
behind the stage, and there was a minimum
of drama with management and bar fights,
in contrast to Music Waste shows at the Pic
and Columbia. The sole bad thing was not
enough people attended.
Arthur Krumins
10    July 2006
a. 5! **
i fi s_ 9- a h h
c I. 5*8-1 ft North by NorthEast Music and Film Festival is one of Canada's biggest and best arts festivals. It
is dedicated to independent creators and producers of music and film, and has been around now
for 12 years. this year there were over 4oo bands playing in over 30 venues around toronto
during a period of 3 days in early june. it is a fairly epic event.
Girl + the Machine
There were also a little more than 15
music-related indie films playing around
town, including one produced by Stewart
Copeland that collected some of his backstage
super-8 footage from his days with the Police.
I-had the opportunity to attend NxNE this year
with the masterful Calvin Sweers—whose film
reviews are located at the end of this article—
and the uber-talented photographer Sophie
It would be impossible for anyone to
attempt to cover every aspect of NxNE. It's
"just too huge. It sprawls in all directions like
something out of an HP Lovecraft story. Yet
NxNE's greatest strength is this immense
diversity of scope. With so many different styles
of music showcased in so many venues, it's
amazing to think that there's enough people
to go around. There's so much opportunity
for random encounters, weird surprises
and drunken decisions that even the most
persnickety planner is doomed to eventually
go with the flow.
We decided to forego all of the standard
'must-see' events. We turned down Television,
the Buzzcocks and Pink Mountaintops in favour
of bands like Girl + the Machine, The Besnard
Lakes and Sylvie. We weren't interested in that
other stuff. It seemed hke too much hassle.
NxNE schedules every band for an hour
on the stage. This timeline includes set-up and
tear-down of equipment before and after the
show, so it usually works out to a 40-minute
set. Bands tend not to bring the flash pots and
hydraulic drum risers for these gigs, and that
makes for a compact, stripped down show. It
allows the audience to be a little closer to the
band musically, and makes the players work a
little harder. With the music as the sole focus,
there can be too much emphasis on the sound
crew to make the right adjustments from band
to band, and in some cases the bands lose out.
It's a bit of a crap shoot in some venues. Some
bands can overcome this and others get lost
and frustrated.
Knowing that this was going to be a
steady, 3-day assault on our senses, my crew
and I developed a plan. There were 2 cardinal
rules taken from the King Crimson school of
songwriting: let's ease into this thing slowly
and never be afraid to improvise.
We would use Thursday night as a kind
of litmus test. We'd casually check out a few
venues, gauge the crowd and feel out the
general vibe. Friday night we'd take it up a
notch. We'd find a few bars with character
and good lighting, and fire back a few shots
of tequila between sets. By Saturday we'd be
ready for the crush. We'd start that night at
the epicenter of the Toronto rock scene—the
legendary Horseshoe Tavern—before hitting
the streets in search of new musical stylings.
•From there all bets were off—we'd cast
ourselves into the hurricane of chance and see
where we ended up.
We spent the early hours of Thursday
evening devouring king cans of Heineken
on the patio of Action Jackson's-Bohemian
Bordello on Shaw Avenue with the Smoke
City Betties. The Betties are a loose-knit posse
of foxes on roller skates who sing and dance
and generally cause mayhem. It is rumored
that they glide the avenues near College &
Shaw, but tonight they were laying down a
relatively earthy Girlschool vibe that I did not
find displeasing. They also play a lot of euchre
"F and sleep on couches. We all eventually made
g our way to the poorly named but ambient
3 Ciao Edie Roxx. It's a little lounge on College
Q Street where we saw a fairly awesome band
§ named  Girl  +  the  Machine,  a  four-piece
5J* art rock ensemble from Toronto that came
-5 across with a kind of psychedelic, flanger-
infected sensibility. Girl—as she prefers to be
kpown—is a lithe Malaysian beauty with a
gorgeous voice and a seductive stage presence.
She belted and purred her way through every
song. The Machine are a fine band featuring
some great guitar playing and a heavy rhythm
section. Their set was really well-executed
and infinitely superior to the band that came
next. Stop Resuscitate Die were the final act of
Thursday evening at the Ciao Edie, and they
were not good. They offered punkishness and
vague political rants between-songs. I didn't
care. I was already looking forward to Friday
Friday night in Toronto is always a good
time. The streets were full of weirdos and ne'er-
do-wells of every stripe. The studded belts,
leather skull caps and red bandana wrist bands
were everywhere. We started the evening
by catching the Cyberkrib showcase at the
wonderfully funky Gypsy Co-op. Kitchener's
Embassy kicked things off with a little Roots-
inspired hip hop. The stylin' MCs had some
real chops, but their all-white backing band
came across as a bit, um, white. Next up was
the highly anticipated Kobayashi; I have
their first CD at home and have always liked
it. Unfortunately, they were sunk by terrible (
sound quality—mics that worked sporadically,
loose grounds, lost vocals. Their set ended up'
resembling a Herbaliser remix of the Moody
Blues in mono. To their credit, Kobayashi gave
the performance everything they had, but it
just didn't translate.
We had every intention of catching
the acid-infused madness of White Cowbell
Oklahoma at the Horseshoe, but not even
our all-access media passes could get us in
for that show. The line-up was around the
corner an hour before show time and the place
was already jammed. We wound up catching
the last song of their extended set—which
somehow included a topless dancer and a
tonne of confetti—but not before hitting the El
Mocambo for a thorough schooling in Kraut-
rock energy from Edmonton's Dietzche V & the
Abominable Snowman. My scribbled notes
from that session mention that they sounded
like a weird collision of Eddy Grant, New Order
and Sign o' the Times era Prince. They pounded
their keyboards and twiddled endless knobs like
Nevermind never happened, and they danced
and sang like pagans around a bonfire. A great
show and highly recommended. Who knows
whether that kind of energy can translate into
a studio recording? I'd be interested to know.
From there it was off to the Silver Dollar,
a rugged watering hole for people of the
psychobilly persuasion, located in beautifully
fragrant Chinatown. There's a statue above
the entrance of a screaming, guitar-wielding
ghoul with a mohawk if that gives you any
idea. Happily, Montreal's The Besnard Lakes
were on stage, and in the middle of throwing
down an assault of chiming guitars and wide-
open jams. My notes say something about
'windblown Arizona desert ditties', 'sweet
solos', and 'the whiskey-soaked madness of the
Supersuckers'. Make of that what you will.
Saturday had a good feeling about it,
and we shook away the cobwebs of the night
before with an afternoon pow-wow on a Queen
Street patio. We got to the Horseshoe Tavern
early, and were treated to one of the best shows
of the festival right off the bat. Sylvie, a four-
piece from Regina, hit the stage like a house
on fire. They had a rich, driving, distorted rock
sound like All State Champion swapping spit
with the long-defunct Closed Captioned Radio.
Singer/guitarist Joel Passmore rocked out on
his Rickenbacker while the band's bassist Riva
Farrell Racette was pure elemental magic.
During the third song her bass strap broke but
she continued to thrum from herknees on the
stage like she was possessed. She even belted
out the chorus though she was nowhere near
a mic. They eventually borrowed a strap for
her and continued to slay the stage for the rest
of the show. I hope they make it to Vancouver,
because I would definitely see them again.
From there we went off to a very tiny
room called Holy Joe's and caught a band
called Doris Day. They are apparently the pride
of Barrie, Ontario and there's no question that
I they came to play. They laid down a high-
energy show full of waving tambourines,
soaring electric-guitars, crashing cymbals and
1 a definite groove. The good news is that I'm
, at a loss for comparisons for this band. They
swagger like dangerous sex and hit you in the
stomach like a swift descent on a rollercoaster.
They packed the place and played with passion,
and everyone left happy.
Another great  show  that night  was
, hometown boys Crash Kelly at the Reverb. They
came to throw down an absolute no-nonsense
! lesson in rock 'n roll with a side of glam. From
the red and black wide-striped jacket of the
lead singer to his shameless mugging for the
camera, this show was an event. Crash Kelly
worked to invoke the combined spirits of Alice
Cooper, Marc Bolan and Ace Frehley, shredding
the wallpaper with guitar solos, tight jeans and
quivering hips. They had a lot of fun on stage
and we all had smiles on our faces for the entire
performance—even if we were occasionally
shaking our heads in disbelief.
The night kind of faded to black from
there. The last two shows that we saw couldn't
hold a candle to the high standard of Doris Day,
Crash Kelly or Sylvie, and it's not eyen worth
getting into. We left the Reverb that night
blissfully drunk on music and liquor, weaving
our way home past packed pizza parlours and
big crowds of rowdy drunks at other bars. It
was the end of the line, but that was alright.
We couldn't have asked for more.
Dietzche V
& the Abominable
Snowman RivaFarrellRacette
■ by Calvin Sweers
*T i Yes, they have movies at NXNE this year; sixteen,
* * actually. No, it's not just bands." Such was my
refrain, usually shouted over a sonic boom of gee-tar or
intoned over coffee to the server at brunch. And if the
two great indie flicks that I managed to take in are any
indication, they'll certainly be doing it all again next year.
Mutual Appreciation
Written and directed by Andrew Bujalski. Starring Justin Rice,
Rachel Clift, Andrew Bujalski
Once you've had your fill of summer blockbusting,
why not take a little stroll down Believability Boulevard
by catching Mutual Appreciation at your local rep cinema?
Writer/director Andrew Bujalski has created a subtle and
clever examination of friendship, family, love, lust and of
course, music—all with the simplest of situations.
Alan (Justin Rice) has left Boston, arriving in New
York with his guitar to start anew his musical career.
He hooks up with a couple old friends to help him settle,
and all he wants or needs is a drummer, and maybe a job.
The stakes may not seem high, but don't let that fool you.
Bujalski reels you in to Alan's story with coy discussions
between all sorts of locals, using some languid camera
work and gritty candour to create a refreshingly natural
fly-on-the-wall feel. The loose, rambling dialogue and
(which I thought were, but later discovered weren't)
improvised performances left me incredibly happy for three
reasons: finally some real acting, some real behaviour, and
no pretense.
The joy in this movie comes from seeing beautifully
ordinary and honest portrayals—like Alan phoning his
dad for money, or Ellie (Rachel Clift) wrestling with the
concept of monogamy. Bujalski has managed to evoke a
wide range of bright, awkward, funny and introspective
moments. At some point in this movie you'll want to call
up the cast yourself and go for a beer. If it's 109 minutes of
'new' that you're after, check this one out.
High and Dry
Directed by Michael Toubassi
Tucson doesn't know if it wants to be a big city or a
small town. And therein may lay the source of inspiration
for the legion of musicians that have marinated in that
desert, simmered, boiled and exploded out onto the larger
music landscape. This documentary attempts to capture
their stories.
Watching the interviews, the old concert tapes,
the grainy house, party footage, we get a glimpse at the
innovative history, the friendly folks and the trying times
from 1980 onwards. You would not be alone in trying to
decipher the exact ingredients that produce the range of
talent and eclectic array of sounds and styles born out of
this arid corner of the world.
But with each hilarious story recounted, each
revolutionary moment re-lived, a little piece of the city's
personality falls into view and we begin to understand the
mind-state, the romance and the reason. This place, these
people, their sound is grand.
As for the term 'desert rock', many of the artists tend
to scoff or question just what the hell it's supposed to mean.
Some of the artists confess its meaninglessness; an imposed
branding used to package the sound and market the music.
In short: bullshit. But I'll let the reader watch Michael
Toubassi's Tucson-scene retro/proto-spective and judge for
themselves whether to remove it from their Lexicon of Rock
and banish it to the ranks of 'fly', 'boss' and 'white rapper'.
So for the uninitiated, don't let names like Calexico,
Supersuckers, Giant Sand, Bob Log III or Rainer Ptacek
intimidate you; let them pique you. And for the already
initiated, how are you, good to see you, come on in, it's hot
out, can I get you a drink?     ^r
a new shop in gastown, open every Saturday, starting July 22.
305 CAMIIg AT CORDpmftfW SAfWPOs^i 3JAM - 7PM
www.gllbertandgilbert.ca I 604-801-5163
by Curtis Woloschuk | Illustration By Carson Daley
" I dre w the short straw," chagrined Jason Grir
"McBean and Bejar are on tour. Newman's on his
annual sex tourism romp through Thailand. I'm
left to play nursemaid." The scruffy vocalist pulled
a Bolivar Corona cigar from his jacket and sparked
aKhter. Trips to the TASCAM (Terrorist Assaults/
gftlless Crimes Against Music) Detention Facility
Bvays made him edgy. When he got edgy, he liked
to puff on something Cuban.
Ifan't smoke that in here," advised Big Hamm.
T% burly, sequin jumpsuit-clad warden nodded
rewards the sprinkler system nestled overhead.
I "»u'll set off the waterworks."
"This place could use a decent soak." The dingy,
<§>ncrete innards of the subterranean prison were
rank with the feuding odours of mildew, human
Jwaste and artistic bankruptcy.
: "Hey! Hey! You gotta get me outta here! I don't
belong here!" A dishevelled Matthew Good
pounded desperately on the solid bars of his cell.
"I'm trying to bring down the industry by operating
inside the system. I want to tell you about my new
direction!" His petitions went unheeded. "At least
give me back my glasses."
"Shut the fuck up!" Hamm slammed his nightstick
against the cell door and sent Good scurrying in
retreat. "Any more of your shit and you're sharing
a cell with the 604 Records boys. Simkin's been
begging for some fresh meat." With Good reduced
to a whimpering wreck, Hamm guided his guest
past another three cells and on to their target.
Grimmer stepped to the door and peered beyond
the reinforced steel stanchions. Todd Kerns sat
hung to the floor and gave him the appearance of
a puppet minus its master. Grimmer felt a fleeting
pang of pity before recalling the damage wrought
by Static In Stereo's self-titled debut. Freshly
motivated, he barked, "Kerns! Hamm here tells
me you've been a model citizen. Keep up the good
behaviour and we might just book you a show at
the Backstage Lounge. Maybe even something on
a weekend."
"You guys have been great," offered the dark-
tressed prisoner in a disimpassioned tone. "I just
want to thank all the fans."
"Yeah, whatever."
"You guys have been great," Kerns repeated. "I...
just... want..." His monotone voice began to slow
as if he were a wind-up toy in need of a decent
crank. "To... thank... aaaaallllllll..."
Hamm huffed derisively. "Jesus. This guy's a real
piece of..."
"Shit!" Grimmer reached for his pocket and
retrieved his cell phone. While scrolling through
his contacts, he turned to Hamm and demanded,
"Get that room open. Now!" After a moment's
pause, the warden punched a password into the
locking mechanism's keypad. Pulling the door
ajar. Grimmer lunged into the ten-by-ten cell.
A well-placed boot to Kerns' head sent him face
first to the ground. Then, Grimmer hoisted up the
prisoner's fresh CBGB t-shirt only to find his worst
suspicions confirmed. Kerns' back was composed
of an intricate lattice of wires and circuitry.
Grimmer pushed the "Call" button on his cell
phone. As a static-scratched connection was
established, he started issuing directives. "Jack, it's
Grimmer. We've got ourselves a situation. Kerns is
loose. He duped us with a bloody android. Hit the
streets and start shaking things up." Eyeing the
expired automaton, the potential repercussions of
Kerns' escape raced through his imagination. "We
need to find this guy ASAP."
Back within the confines of The Super Group's
headquarters/rehearsal space, Grimmer was
perched at the edge of his command chair. Clouds
of acrid smoke billowed from his smouldering
cigar. In front of him, a video display broadcast
events unfolding in the tech room two floors
below. Grimmer watched plaintively as Shawn
Bristow sifted through various components he'd
culled from the android's torso. At Bristow's side,
Andy Dixon industriously catalogued information
into his laptop. Grimmer activated the intercom
and enquired, "You guys have anything for me?"
Bristow shook his head in dismay. "The
Robosexuals and I have tossed together some
pretty decent 'bots in our time," he muttered over
the corn-link. "I mean, we once built a cyborg
sheltie with just a Kleenex box, candy bar wrapper,
toothbrush and Jack Russell terrier."
"That doesn't help me," chastised Grimmer.
"I guess what I'm saying is that this stuff here is
a little beyond me," replied Bristow. "I mean, this
has all sorts of metal and wires and stuff." He
held aloft a circuit board as an example. "I'm also
kind of freaked out that I might get electrocuted. I
already got some solder on my hand." Rubbing his
palm, he grumbled, "Still kind of stings."
"Hey," chimed in Dixon. He was keenly surveying
his laptop's monitor. "You guys should see what
that android's nuclear fusion engine is going for
online. We should totally eBay this shit!"
"Jesus!" disparaged The Super Group's acting
leader. "I need you guys to find something. Serial
numbers. Anything. We need to trace where these
parts came from."
A defensive air overtook Bristow. "Damn it,
Grimmer. I'm a multi-instrumentalist, not a
miracle worker!"
Grimmer cut the video feed. "This had to happen
while I was in charge," he mumbled. "I was going
to start two new bands this week." His rampant
aggravation edged closer to the redline as he
became attuned to a guttural chanting echoing
about the room. "What the hell...?"
"It's The Winks, chief." Grimmer had almost
forgotten that Kurt Dahle was standing behind
him. The nimble percussionist waved cigar smoke
away from his face before gesturing towards the
centre of the large room. There, Todd and Tyr of
The Winks sat cross-legged on a throw rug. A
rainbow-tinged parasol was propped up between
them and scented candles were appointed about
the floor. The vividly garbed duo's eyes were fixed
shut while their lips moved of their own accord.
"They told me that they're attempting to access the
astral plane to seek the counsel of the 'dovetailed
starfish guardian of the primordial psyche.'" A
pregnant pause followed. "They kind of weird me
"They weird everyone out." A series of shrill beeps
called Glimmer's attention back to the command
counsel. "It's Jack," he informed Dahle. With a
volley of keystrokes, a connection was established
with Jack Duckworth's camera phone. The initial
video transmission was alarming. The Super
Group's dark avenger seemed to be reporting in
from ground zero of a devastating natural disaster.
"What the hell happened?"
"The Buffalo Club's welcome wagon," shared
Duckworth. Unconscious and badly beaten bar
patrons were perched atop the stools to his side.
Behind him, collaterally damaged neon signs
flickered at the brink of death and a large mirror
boasted a prominent web-like crack. Shards of
broken glass littered the bar top hke confetti.
"Kerns' favourite lap dancer put me onto this
place." A smirk curled Duckworth's lips. "Get this.
Kerns ends up sobbing like a baby every time she
bumps and grinds him. Then, he heads over here
to drown his sorrows."
"What did you turn up?"
"I had to liberate some teeth before anyone
would loosen their tongue." Bruised and bloodied
knuckles were presented as evidence. "Kerns made
a cameo appearance last week. Just long enough
to pick up his bro..."
The transmission abruptly cut to static. Confusion
gripped Grimmer's face. "What the..." A digital
hash-heavy image of Duckworth was briefly
resuscitated only to die out a second time. On
this occasion, it dragged the entirety of the
headquarters' interior lights along with it.
"Damn it!" railed Grimmer amidst the darkness.
"Those jackasses in the tech room probably blew
a breaker."
"I don't think that's your problem," advised an
unfamiliar voice.
The overhead fluorescents flickered back to life.
Grimmer spun his chair about and met with an
alarming discovery. The nefarious Todd Kerns had
breached the defences of the heroes' sanctum and
now stood but three metres away. Compounding
matters, he wasn't alone. Two similarly attired
men flanked his sides. Rattled by the rapid turn of
events. Grimmer struggled to identify the villain's
accomplices. "Who...?"
" Good god," gasped Dahle. "That's his brother John
and my brother Ryan." Shaking uncontrollably,
he swallowed heavily. "Grimmer... He's... He's
reassembled Age of Electric."
"Not quite," corrected a smug Kerns. He offered
a sly smile and flung a pointed finger in the
direction of Dahle. Relishing the theatrics, he
dramatically intoned, "I believe your Super Group
has something that belongs to us."
To be continued... ^
Discorder     1 3 11 fs -§ z « £ a
f _Mft S:..S i
I'M  liteQKef
(3_[_D5Iil!®SHi®c 0C* Sf„"/s*
purchase tickets 3QB0QS «t hob.ca or ticketmaster.™ 604-280-4444
16     July 2006 "If you are wearing a white hankie with multi-coloured dots, that nieans you're hosting an orgy'i'^m
" Today?
I'M        GONNA        BE
FLAGGING    Oil    the    left,"
electroclash dirty-talker
Peaches tells me over
the phone from L.A.,
"which means I'm gonna
spank your butt." We're
having, a conversation
about the gay hankie
code, a traditional form
of signaling sexual preferences and interests
through 'flagging' a
coloured or patterned
hankie from a back
pocket. It's Friday, just
before noon, and the
Canadian-born, Berlin-
based minimalist pop
rock sensation and sub-
cultural sex symbol has
agreed to play some
games' with me before
we talk about her forthcoming album, Impeach
My Bush, due out July 11
on XL Recordings. For
those unfamiliar with
the suggestive intricacy
of the hankie taxonomy,
Peaches promises a
tutorial track, "Hankie
Code," on the b-side of
her upcoming single,
"Downtown." And of
her own hankie preference? "Oh, mostly it's just
fuschia pink."
* ~ " When I tell her that I've switched my hankie to the right-hand side
especially for our interview, she
asks what colour I'm flagging, and I
reply that it's a polka-dotted hankie
and that I have no idea what it says
about my sexual inclinations. "You
don't know what that means?" she
asks, trying to clarify some details
as she sorts through a copy of the
hankie code that she has found on
her laptop. "Are the polka dots blue?
Hang on, hang on, I think I can help
you with this..."
As earlier albums The Teaches
of Peaches and Fatherfucker have
signalled Peaches' penchant for hot
topics to her listeners, her third full-
length LP Impeach My Bush plunges
the body politic further south of
the border for another campaign
through forbidden territory. Peaches,
however, downplays the political
significance of the titillating title
when I ask her if the name alone is
enough to make Impeach My Bush
a mainstream political album. "I
always thought that if I made a
greatest hits or a last album, I'd say
'impeachment,' you know? And it
just seemed like a good opportunity,.
a good time...with what's going
on in the world, to use 'Bush,' and
'Impeach' and 'Impeach My Bush.'"
More candidly. Peaches remarks
that the name of the album reflects
her artistic mandate for sexual
freedom as much as it represents her
personal take on U.S. foreign policy.
"You know how, when something
happens, everybody jumps on it?"
she muses. "I'm kind of making a
comment on that, you know. But,
also, war isn't funny, so it is cool...if
you have a political persona, to say
something." What Peaches insists
that her third album will say comes
issued as a challenge to mainstream
expression more explicit than
Fatherfucker, and with a wider target
audience than she reached with
The Teaches of Peaches. Her slogan
for Impeach My Bush, as she puts it
during our telephone exchange, is,
"If you don't know me, Peaches, by
now, censor my pussy."
iO* Though faithful fans have come
to expect such playful profanity from
Peaches, Impeach My Bush gives new
meaning to double entendre in an
era of pop music plasticity. Because
we have already gotten to know a
bit about one another, I decide to
ask Peaches if she envisions Impeach
My Bush booking newer, younger
audiences with its racy refrains.
"What, like five?" Peaches fires
back. "Like, how much younger
can they get?" Always on the edge
of willingness to participate in our
exchange, she continues, "Umj yeah,
yeah...No, I think this album should
be a mainstream album. And I mean
that in such a good way because I
think everybody should hear what I
have to say."
Peaches is equally forthright
when I ask her what she thinks will
be dirtier about Impeach My Bush
for audiences already accustomed
to the controversial. "Well, what do
you think?" Embarrassed because
the shock-pop sovereign has caught
me off-guard, I stammer something
into the phone about the album's
provocative puns (the lyrics to songs
like "Slippery Dick," if you haven't
already guessed, make Black Eyed
Peas hit "My Humps" seem like
a chastity vow). "Yeah," Peaches
agrees, "like, 'Hurts so good I got a
sore-gasm,'" she sings from "Tent
in Your Pants," which she follows
up with the line, "Make a woman
a man, and a man can-can," from
"Hit it Hai
for citize
[£> In Rolling Stone last fall, Peaches said her ambition for Impeach My
Bush was to "go more hardcore,"
a commitment that drove her to
expand her horizon in the direction
of the West Coast for the "total L.A.
experience": a poolside studio that
played host to a menagerie of musical
guests, among them Broken Social
Scenester Leslie Feist and legendary
rock n' roller Joan Jett. "Yeah, that's
the good part of being solo and doing
everything and proving that you
can already do it," Peaches explains
when I ask her how she manages to
join forces with a team of musical
heavyweights and yet remain an
autonomous artistic entity, "because
then'you can expand it and it's stUl
you. And people are like, T can get
behind that. I can get in front of
that.'" Sure enough, as Peaches tells
it, it was Joan Jett who made the first
move ("She's always wearing [a]
black hankie...on the left.") to get
behind Impeach My Bush.
Joan Jett, for instance, called
me and said, 'What are you doing?
I heard you're in L.A. and you're
making a record. Can I come by
and listen?' So she came by, it was
her 47th birthday and I'm like, 'You
like it? You like this song?' She's hke,
'Yeah,' and I'm like, 'You wanna
be on it?'" Along with Jett, former
roommate Feist and Queens of the
Stone Age guitarist Josh Homme, the
latest release attracted the attention
of ex-Hole drummer Sam Maloney,
JD Samson of Le Tigre, and The
Need's Radio Sloan, a triple threat
enlisted as Peaches' back-up band for
her Summer 2006 Impeach My Bush
tour. Cutting a record on the West
Coast  even  reconnected  Peaches
with Jenni Craige, Betti Fordl
Mr. Bigstuff'of local electropunl
de force" Stinkmitt. "We didji
together, too," she adds, "Mactirally
didn't make it to my albunrShragh,
but it's really good. It's called 'Fan
It's also thanks to her total L.A.
experience that Peaches is hanging
out in Pacific Standard Time instead
of Central European Time, wearing
a gold bikini and chatting with me
on her cell phone. "My cell phone
is, like, Barbie's first cell phone. It's
really light, and it's fake platinum,
and it's horrible...[but] I got a little
phone charm that says "Welcome to
Las Vegas" on it, so I've made it my
^O* Although the polka dots on
my hankie are white on a blue
background, Peaches informs me
that, according to the hankie code,
"If you are wearing a white hankie
with multi-coloured dots, that means
you're hosting an orgy or looking for
an orgy." By the end of the interview.
Peaches and I know a bit more about
each other's personal preferences,
but I still want to know how a gender-
bending groundbreaker who once
referred to herself as a "conduit for
sex" in a 2003 interview with Spin
magazine thinks Impeach My Bush
will push new boundaries in the wake
of an album as sexually charged as
Fatherfucker. At the foundation of
Peaches' vision for an album that
will challenge more booty to hit the
dancefloor is the solid production
of louder riffs with bigger beats.
"People who always said, 'Oh no, we
couldn't play Fatherfucker, you know,
production,' or whatever, well, now
there's no goddamn fucking excuse,
so what you gonna do ?"    (r
/   by Chris Little | Illustration By Will Brown\
Juana Molina is an Argentinean national treasure.
Once a celebrated comedic actress and television
personality, she is now a renowned singer-songwriter
who creates music of subtle depth and beauty. By
embracing elements of traditional folk and enveloping,
them in swaths of minimal electronics, she is able to
generate a surprising variety of moods and textures,
using hypnotic repetition and the gradual addition of
unusual sounds to produce an irresistibly charming
sense of controlled psychedelia. Her approach is simple
and intimate, yet her artistry is unique.
Although the vast majority of Molina's songs are
sung in Spanish, they radiate a universality that defies
linguistic constraints. Currently on tour promoting
> her third internationally-released album Son (Domino/
Outside), I had the opportunity to sit down with this
lovely and talented artist prior to her solo performance
on June 20tb at Richard's, sandwiched in between
U.K. chamber-pop act Psapp and the Swedish singer-
songwriter stylings of current indie-darling Jose
You don't tend to make a lot of information about
your personal life available, and you rarely use
images of yourself to promote your work. Was that
a deliberate decision you. made at the beginning of
your musical career?
Juana Molina: It wasn't even a decision—I just don't do
it. I'm not very careful about my website or my image,
and I'd rather not be. That's why I'm not on the covers of
my records either.
Was your attitude a reaction at all to having your
face constantly on television?
JM: Maybe. When I was an actress and very famous and
blah, blah, blah, I wasn't at all into being photographed
like all the other celebrities. I never did that. Now when
I watch TV, I feel so relieved that I know I'm not going to
be there. It's very comfortable to know that you're not
going to be on TV, that you're protected.
Did the persistent media attention have anything
to do with your decision to abandon television in
favour of pursuing music?
JM: No, no. I abandoned music without noticing what
I was doing. I started to work on TV because I wanted
to have money to be able to keep taking guitar lessons,
pay rent, and play music. Then I got famous without
noticing it, and I got away from music for several years.
But that wasn't at all my plan.
So it wasn't a difficult decision?
JM: It was difficult for other reasons. It was difficult
because I had to abandon a very huge career and all
the facilities that gives you. Everything comes easy. But
at that point I really didn't care about having money
lULY 2006
anymore and starting all over again.
Did you always have a desire to merge electronic
music with singer-songwriter elements, or is that
something that developed only recently?
JM: When I returned to music the only instruments I
had at home were a bass, a guitar, and a drum machine,
so all the arrangements were made for those and
vocals. I didn't even think about keyboards, because at
that time I didn't like them. I thought that keyboards
were cheesy and that everyone used the same horrible
sounds. But then a friend of mine taught me that you
could actually program your own sounds, and that's
when I got interested in synthesizers. I didn't know you
could do that.
Were there any particular artists that influenced
you when you were exploring what could be done
with synthesizers?
JM: Just my friend. He wanted me to listen to some of his
songs, and I invited him over. He came with a keyboard
and I thought 'This is gonna suck!', but then he started
to play some sequences he had and I didn't understand
where the sounds were coming from. I didn't know you
could sequence anything...I didn't even know what a
sequence was. That's when I learned that the presets in
a keyboard are just to show you what the instrument
is able to do. So I immediately bought a keyboard and
started to work on my own sounds. I got rid of all the
presets, of course!
It seems that your songwriting approach has
changed from album to album. On Tres Cosas the
arrangements are more stripped-down than they
are on Segundo, whereas Son feels like a more
developed version of both-. How do you approach
the creation of each new record?
JM: I don't know. I don't have any preconceived ideas of
what I'm going to do. It's just something that happens.
Segundo for a long time was my favourite record, because
it's freer than the others. I wasn't thinking about
making a record at the time I recorded it. When I made
the others I was already in the "industry," although my
industry is pretty small. When I recorded Tres Cosas I
had a base of concerns about what people might think.
I was very afraid that the encouraging and supportive
fans I made with Segundo were not going to like it, so I
started to think a little more. I didn't want it to be as full
a record, so it's more stripped-down. I could have added
layers and layers because I love to do that, but I decided
not to.
When I recorded Son the process was totally
different, because I was using a lot of new ideas to play
the songs from Segundo and Tres Cosas in a different way
in my live shows. I realized that if I didn't record them I
was going to find all these new ideas old when the time
came to make a new album. So when I went back home
after each tour I immediately recorded my set in the
studio because I wanted to put all these new ideas into
new songs. I wasn't very aware of what I was doing, so
when I decided to make a new record, the first thing I did
was sit down and take a listen to what I had. I found that
maybe 70 percent of the record was already there and I
didn't know it! I got so enthusiastic because I thought
that I was going to need almost two years to finish it,
as with the other two records. But I finished the record
in two months because I had been recording all these
things. That's how Son came out...very easily.
So you didn't feel the same pressure to change as
you'd felt before?
JM: No, because what I found when I was listening to
what I had was that the sounds were new, at least for
me. Something was different. I don't know exactly what,
but the spirit was more energetic and alive than on the
other two records.
In the past you've expressed regret about leaving
some of your more adventurous material off of
your albums. Are you still in the habit of holding
back, or do you now let all of your creative
impulses flourish no matter how crazy they might
JM: I think I've become more secure in some ways,
because when I knew Segundo was going to become a
record I mixed some of the arrangements really low. I
didn't dare put them too loud, but I didn't want to get
rid of them either. For example, at the end of "Misterio
Uruguayo" it seems like there are a lot of people
screaming and singing and saying insane things, but
you can barely hear it. I don't regret that decision, I just
regret the fact that I didn't dare.
Are you planning to write any more material in
JM: I think language is something that really represents
who you are. I am a little bit like the Woody Allen movie
Zelig with languages. If I spend some time with Galia
[Durant; of tourmates Psapp], after a while I begin to
speak exactly as she does. She's from England and she
has her own vocabulary.
I don't have roots in different languages, so even
if I know what I'm saying in English, I don't know how
I'm saying it. I know it's a big barrier, and that it would
be much more commercial if I did my whole thing in
English. But if the barrier is going to prevent people from
listening to my music I have to take that risk, because I
really need to be sure about what I'm doing. I wouldn't
be myself. I could do it in French, as I did in one song
on Tres Cosas, but French was for some time my second
language, because I lived there when I was a teenager.
I can recognize who I am in French, so I know what I'm
saying. I really don't feel like I could sing in English.
in by Graham Preston | Illustration By Ben Frey
Mo' Mega, the new record
by Boston, MA's own Mr.
Lif, or really old school
rap of the late 1970s and
early i98os from artists
such as Busy Bee and
Grandmaster Caz of the
Cold Crush Brothers (who
were apparently a very
young jay-z's favourite
and flows used by Lif and Cold Crush sets
these records far apart. There's also the
monumentally different beats, which are just
house-band-replayed disco breaks in the old
school songs, contrasted with the blistering,
sample-heavy, futuristic boom-bap of Mr.
Lif's producers, who include El-P (the man
in charge of thee prominent indie rap imprint
Definitive Jux—Mr. Lif's label) and Edan of
Beauty and the Beat fame.
But, on the other hand, the old school
and Mr. Lif dovetail so well that one could
reasonably draw a continuum of hip-hop
history that would place Caz on one end and
Mr. Lif on the other. Throughout his career,
Mr. Lif's work has played with and relied upon
the signifiers, cliches and guaranteed party-
rocking techniques that were pioneered
during the earliest days of recorded hip hop
culture. This is not to say that Lif is merely
derivative of a bunch of now washed-up and
nearly forgotten pioneers. Rather, he takes
these signifiers and makes them his own,
which is one of the reasons why I find him
one of the most vital and interesting artists
in the now maligned and basically stagnant
subgenre of so-called underground or
"backpack" rap. Instead of just repeating the
past like, say, Jurassic 5, Mr. Lif consciously—
in both senses of the word—tries to make the
past part of his future.
On a very cold early March night in
Toronto during Canadian Music Week, I
found myself in an insanely over-packed
Opera House for a three-hour-plus Def Jux
All Stars show that featured Mr. Lif, El-P
and Aesop Rock on the bill as headliners.
After roughly ten opening acts including
fellow Jukies Cage and Camu Tao, Lif and
crew finally jumped on stage, immediately
launching into a call-and-response routine
that wouldn't have been out of place in a
legendary Kool DJ Here park jam in 1978.
After this traditional hip hop introduction,
they ran through a set of their own decidedly
post-modern material from albums such as
Mr. Lif s I Phantom, Aesop Rock's Labor Days
and El-P's Fantastic Damage. At the time, I
paid little attention to this disjunction; it
was just part of the show designed to rock the
crowd. But now, especially after the release
of Mo' Mega, I am struck by the contrast
between the pure fun of the routines and the
relatively serious nature of the songs.
Mo' Mega, though—and this is the
point that really makes this record and its
progenitor so worthwhile—combines the
playfulness of the routines with Mr. Lif's
serious and political ethos into one package.
In other words, he takes his latent Busy
Bee—the earliest party-rocking solo emcee
(think Jeezy for 1980)—and combines it
with the Public Enemy-inspired "robo-
Rakim" vibe that Lif has been noted for by
writers like Peter Macia since the late 1990s.
Critic Tom Breihan calls the new record "the
first album where he abandons abstract
apocalyptic parables and lets his humanity
shine through," while Macia spends most of
his time in the review telling his readers that
Mo' Mega is Lif at his most personal. But both
reviewers miss the point entirely, since Lif
has always been spitting personal raps about
humanity, such as I Phantom's "Live from the
Plantation," which details, in horrifyingly
accurate terms, a typical work day. On Mo'
Mega, Lif augments his personal style with
a much more playful and ultimately fun
approach. For example, check out the absurd
fantasy of "Murs Iz My Manager," where
guest emcee Murs tells Mr. Lif that Al Gore,
Ben Affleck, Eminem, Jay-Z, Andre 3000
and Rakim want to collaborate with him. On
the sex-epic tracks "Washitup" and "Long
Distance," Lif puts his newly relaxed craft to
Despite the overall genre's reputation
for a tendency towards misogynistic and
sexually explicit subject matter, strangely,
underground hip-hop is relatively free of such
material. If anything, the underground
usually displays a certain shyness and juvenile attitude towards sex. The sexual honesty
and directness of groups like Atmosphere
is derided (or celebrated, depending on
your temperament and orientation in the
scene) as mere emo-rap, or outright ignored
in favour of the hypersexual crack-rap of
artists like Cam'ron or Young Jeezy, or the
seemingly ironic porno-rap of groups like
Spank Rock. Indeed, the underground hiphop world might share more with the indie
scene than it would like to admit. As critic
Carl Wilson recently wrote, the indie scene
is dominated by a "pervasive glorification
of pre-pubescent reference points and [an]
awkward relationship to sexuality." Wilson
here could just as well be describing the
crowd at the Def Jux All Stars show in
On Mo' Mega, Mr. Lif raps about sex
with a sense of humour and t
On "Washitup," he adopts a Bajan accent and
does his best dancehall impression to rap about
an encounter with a woman who, despite
appearance, is "smelling unstable," which
in turn leads to Lif's "frustration from a vile
sensation." He then advises her to "wash it up
before you make me cry / You look good, smell
bad, girl, bye-bye." The tone of the song is clearly
playful, but instead of relying upon cliches or
"pre-pubescent reference points," Lif is both
didactic and entertaining. "Long Distance," on
the other hand, features Lif at his most serious
and seductive, as he lovingly and realistically
describes the passion, energy and stamina of
sex during a much-anticipated rendezvous in
a long distance relationship. As in "Washitup,"
Lif s lyrics are never exploitative or juvenile but
earnest and enjoyable for the listener.
While I have been speaking primarily
about the purely amusing cuts on the record,
there are also many instances of the angry and
political Mr. Lif that made hip hop heads first
take notice of his talent. For example, he rallies
against the outwardly harmless evils of fast
food in "The Fries" while aptly piling intricate
yet discernible poetic conceits on top of each
other. George W. Bush and other politicians, of
course, do not escape the ire of Lif. On "Brothaz"
Mr. Lif raps, "the Bush administration is
worth nothing / Just fuck 'em / Throw 'em in
the barrel, buck 'em." He later makes sure to
note, "Fuck Clinton too / You ain't really down
because you live uptown, bitch / Rwanda."
Additionally, "The Come Up"—featuring fellow
Boston-based emcee Akrobatik and Columbus,
Ohio's Blueprint—turns its attention to a series
of parables about the ills of the inner-city black
In a sense, on this record Mr. Lif is doing his
best to counter pioneering hip-hop journalist
Nelson George's assessment that "[h]ip-hop is
not a political movement in the usual sense. Its
advocates don't elect public officials. It doesn't
present a systematic (or even original) critique
of white world supremacy." On Mo' Mega,
Lif definitely tries to articulate his original
critique, and perhaps also solutions to these
problems, through an approach derived from
a balance between the fun of the park jam
routine and the serious political issues that
underpin hip-hop culture itself. In the end,
Lif's focus is both global and local.    |C
Discorder     1 9 In 2804, Michael Franti decided to "walk his talk" and traveled
to the war zones off Iraq, Israel and the Occupied Palestinian
Territories. This wasnt a USO green zone sponsored visit-Franti
traveled to the core of the red-zoned, war torn neighborhoods in
the Middle East with his guitar, video cameras and the intent to
experience first hand the human cost off war.
Out of this journey, Franti has created a compelling
documentary film titled "I Know I'm Not Alone" and an
inspiring, uplifting new album of original songs titled
"Yell Fire*"
Recorded in Kingston, Jamaica with Sly & Robbie,
and Franti's hometown of San Francisco, California.
DVD and CD
July 25th
give   *lw
the hmv gift card
music • DVD • more
FROM   ttftlMMH-PKNAM/i.
#233-6138 SUB BLVD.
AUGUST 8TH, 2006!
20     July 2006 Watch for New Releases c0t?^:^^
give   iSea
^ hmv gift card
music • DVD • more
Discorder     2.1 HBDER REVIEW
Spaceheater I Perfect Interior
(Crucial Blast)
The Goslings have been getting a whole lotta attention
lately, especially for Between the
Dead, which made some year-
end lists and had people wetting
themselves in general, myself
included. Crucial Blast have
done themselves and us a favour,
and packaged up two of the The
Goslings' earlier CD-Rs.
I guess the word on Between
the Dead was that it combined
the plodding heaviness of Sunn
O))) with deranged male/female
vocals, and the gauzy, ethereal
quality of some 4AD thing from
the 80s that I've never actually
listened to, like Cocteau Twins
or something. Far as I can tell,
they've got a particular talent for
both beauty and malevolence,
and though these EPs aren't as
polished, they've each got plenty
of both.
It starts out with some
buzz n' hum before the bass
frequencies start swelling, like
a lo-fi Growing soundtracking
a David Lynch film. Later on,
it's a haunted house My Bloody
Valentine. They're crude, self-
released recordings of a band
finding its feet, but the ideas and
the skill for perfecting them are
all here. They're one of the few
bands that don't sound like a
clone of anything, and they craft
a massive, psychedelic world to
get lost in, if you wanna get lost.
David Nichols
Puzzles like You
Any band worth anything is
always at odds with their own
evolution, for fear of finding an
early grave in some stagnant
and forgotten pool somewhere.
So, how then do you evolve
gracefully without alienating
all those finicky little fans of
yours? Well, one simple solution
is to just up the tempos and dust
off some underused distortion
pedals like Mojave 3 does on
their new LP, Puzzles like You.
On their fifth album, we find
these ex-Slowdivers opting to
record a much more upbeat and
pop-oriented record that sounds
more like something Teenage
Fanclub would release than a
Mojave 3 record. The generally
sombre, Dylan-esque ballads
that the band has become known
for are few and far between here.
The record barely stops to catch
its breath as it briskly races
through rock 'n roll tracks like
"Truck-DrivingMan," "Breaking
The Ice" and "Running With
Your Eyes Closed," before
coming to a lovely halt with one
of Neil Halstead's best ballads
yet, "The Mutineer." The punchy
guitars, cheerful handclaps and
pounding honky-tonk pianos
found on this album are now
better suited for sunny-day bike
rides than late-night cuddle
sessions. Overall, the band has
succeeded in releasing a very
confident record that throws
something new into the Mojave
3 formula that shouldn't put off
any loyal listeners.
BRock Thiessen
Consumer vs. User
(Cognition Audioworks)
Halifax's Andrew Duke has
been producing electronic music
for almost two decades now,
generating a voluminous and
varied discography. A quick
glance at his New Music Canada
page reveals that, over the past
couple of years alone, he's made
everything from ambient drone
arrangements to bumping tech-
house tracks. And though Duke
generally tends to put the "I"
before the "DM," much of his
music would find a welcome
audience on the dance floor of
some all-night party in a derelict
For Consumer vs. User,
however, Duke seems to have
led us into the still-active
electronics manufacturing plant
next door to said all-nighter. We
can still hear the muffled bass
through the walls, but the snare
drums have been replaced by
hydraulic spurts and the high-
hats with electronic sizzles.
Tracks like "Raven" march on
with a perseverance only factory
machinery could maintain.
With the exception of some
delayed treble loops echoing
through the open skylight from
next door, most of the songs'
melodies are made up, not of
different notes, but of variations
in sound texture.
The album sits on the border
between IDM and ambient, and
so it shouldn't be surprising
that there are few to no hooks
throughout. But what Duke's
latest cut lacks in catchiness, it
makes up for in its evocation of
a cold yet fascinatingly intricate
landscape. This is definitely
not your summer barbecue
soundtrack, but it makes for
a fantastic listen at 3AM on
your basement surround sound
Peter C.
Big Star, Small World: A Tribute
to the Music of Big Star
Think back to 1998. Put
yourself right in that time. Doing
it? Okay, good. Then this is a
decent little tribute that fans
of Big Star or of any of the
contributing    bands     should
22     July 2006 And r err
present day, and think about
just how much you care about
Matthew Sweet performing a
pretty faithful cover of "Ballad
of El Goodo." Therein lies the
problem with Big Star, Small
World. For one reason or another
it was shelved for eight years,
and time has unfortunately
taken its toll on most of the
world's enthusiasm for hearing
The Afghan Whigs make their
way through "Nighttime."
It's not. that any of the
record's covers are bad. In fact,
some of them are splendid. The
aforementioned Afghan Whigs
track is nothing to scoff at, and
Wilco's cover of "Thirteen" is
almost an improvement on the
original, its tale of adolescent love
dressed up with some tasteful
slide guitar and filtered through
Jeff Tweedy's gravelly croon. But
there are two things that make
tribute albums interesting. One
is when the contributing bands
take the songs of another artist
and make them their own, and
the other is the curiosity that's
attached to hearing some of your
favourite bands of today take a
stab at the songs of one of your
favourite bands of yesterday.
Wilco, of course, are still
relevant, and there's probably
quite a few people out there
whose interest is piqued by the
prospect of Teenage Fanclub or
The Posies paying tribute to one
of their main influences. But the
number of people dying to hear
Juliana Hatfield singing "Don't
Lie to Me" probably isn't very
As for bands adapting
Big Star's songs to their own
sound, the differences between
covers and originals here are
pretty minimal, although
Whiskeytown and Kelly Hogan
do add a little twang into the
mix. No one is setting out to
reinvent any of these classic
tunes, and maybe that's not
entirely bad; by being fairly
faithful to the originals, there at
least isn't anything offensive in
the bunch. Unfortunately, there
isn't a whole lot that stands on
its own two feet as memorable
Quinn Omori
Make Love to the Judges wtth
Your Eyes
(DimMak) [
Pony Up I put together a self-
titled album a while back. It
really felt a lot more like an EP. It
was cute, lacked funding, and
was only seven songs long. "Shut
Up and Kiss Me" shone as the
standout track on the album. It
was poppy and frustrated, a song
about less talk and more make-
outs. It was probably the song
responsible for the existence
of the second album that I am
listening to right now. Between
these two albums the band may
have lost a member to Sunset
Rubdown, but the loss doesn't
seem to have hurt them in the
These Montreal girls' sophomore release gets off to a slow
start With "Dance with Me," in
which sometimes lead singer
Laura Wills sings a sad song of
temptation. The lyrics, some
of which are taken directly
from famed Victorian bawdy
novel Fanny Hill or, Memoirs of
a Woman of Pleasure, provide a
level of sexuality that is undercut
by the lamenting nature of the
song's tune, slowly building and
echoing despair. This unusual
start, perhaps better suited for
somewhere in the middle of
an album, is quickly forgotten
by the next song, "The Truth
about Cats and Dogs (Is That
They Die)". This song is a solid
hit that will secure these girls
a place in people's minds. The
catchy and playful interplay
between Wills' keyboarding
and Sarah Moundroukas' guitar
work is exemplary and works
to maximum effect, bringing
Moundroukas' voice out on this
track. Combined with the urgent
drumming and well-timed backup vocals from the rest of the
band, this song is easily the best
on the album.
To a lesser degree this dynamic continues throughout
the album, as with each song
they weave a new melancholy
melody around the words of
Moundroukas or Wills. For
those seeking'a fresh sound in
the indie rock scene, this album
is highly recommended. There's
a lot of raw talent here that just
needs to be refined, which leaves
me greatly anticipating their
next release. Stay gold Ponygirls,
stay gold.
Jordie Sparkle
(Asthmatic Kitty)
I was curious to hear this
album, since it's not often that
one first hears of a local band
from the site of a Wyoming
record label. Shapes and Sizes
seem to be getting a lot of buzz
for signing to Asthmatic Kitty, a
label with a resume of names like
Sufjan Stevens, Half-Handed
Cloud and Castanets. This roster
would humble any band asked
to join, not to mention a band
just releasing their first album.
The ten-track self-titled
album features such musical
oddities as whistling, ukulele,
lap steel and flugelhorn. The
lyrics are distinctive and bizarre,
sung by three different vocalists.
While I found it an interesting
album, with skillful lyrics and
unique use of instruments,
interesting does not always
equal entertaining or enjoyable
for an entire album. Overall I
found the album to be somewhat
disjointed, including within the
songs themselves. I also found
some of the vocals and guitar
parts to be quite harsh at times.
The first track, "Islands Gone
Bad," starts out promising but
enters a somewhat sour chorus
with high-pitched female vocals
and yelping males. I would like
this album a lot more if they
toned down the extremity of the
vocals. I did, however, enjoy the
fifties pop-esque background
vocals on "Northern Lights,"
which softened the song up.
While I enjoy elements of
this album, the band has a lot
of room to grow. I guess a side-
effect of having your first album
released on a prominent indie
label is that a lot of people are
going to hear the first thing you
ever put out.
Melanie Coles
Impeach my Bush
(XL Recordings)
Easily the most mainstream-
sounding of her recordings.
Peaches' third full-length studio
album combines palatable
electroclash and the trademark
raw sexuality we've come to
love from Ms. Nisker. Peaches'
explicitness has always been
political because of its lack of
subtlety. Impeach my Bush is a
logical progression.
"Fuck or Kill," the album's
first track, pits the rhyme "I'd
rather fuck who I want than kill
who I am told to" against a dirty
beat that sets the thematic tone
for the album, championing
sexual    expression    (nothing
surprising here) over military
oppression. Musically, "Fuck
or Kill" is Impeach my Bush's
most pared-down song, while
the rest of the album feels more
intricate. A rich sound binds
the clever lyricism ("clubs for
bravin', flags for wavin.'...walls
for scalin', temples for wavin'...)
and the sugary bassline of
"Downtown"—a tune about
giving Peaches what.she wants,
downtown. This transitions well
into "Two Guys (For Every Girl),"
a joint call from The Gossip's
Beth Ditto and Peaches for more
guy-on-guy-on-girl action, an
acknowledgement that will
surely please a hitherto ignored
sexual demographic. "Do Ya,"
"Give'er," and "Boys- Wanna
Be Her" exhibit the most punk
influence, and are grounded by
satisfyingly bare guitar hooks.
"Rock the Shocker" unveils a
new sex act, so listen carefully.
Impeach my Bush doesn't
meander far from Peaches'
classic shtick and could have
done a better job living up to its
title. But It's still smart, and it
still sounds good. Pretty hot, I
Alison Benjamin
The Sun Awakens
(Drag City)
So this fruit salad I made has
been chillin' in the refrigerated
section of my home for about a
week. I thawed it out today and
found that the individual fruits
had reorganized their fruitiness
into a world of hybrids; one
uniformly oxidized bowlful of apple-peach-plumness
that tasted not unlike fruit.
However, this bowl of similitude
had developed flavours that
only come from the complete
immersion in the influences of
other fruit. This is not unlike
most everything that comes tagged Six Organs of Admittance.
Each album is essentially a fruit
salad of excellent influences, but
the proportions differ slightly
from record to record. Thanks to
the rise of, and I shudder to use
the term, "freak folk," many of
these influences have reached
pandemic status among anyone
within arm's length of an
acoustic guitar. But also thanks
to Chasny's touchstone status
in the current (worthwhile)
musical world, the influence of
his work with Comets on Fire and
Current 93's David Tibet comes
through like crystal. To drag out
this fruity simile to unnecessary
lengths, I'll say that Chasny's
infusion of swirling electronics
and eastern mysticism adds
the lemon juice to the mixture,
preventing the indeterminately
boring brown colour that can
result without a little acid (so to
So while nothing is exactly
new per se, there is room for a
new permutation to stand alone.
Ben Chasny's latest offering The
Sun Awakens gives a greater nod
to Sufism and finds fewer sounds
leaving Chasny's mouth than
last year's School of the Flower.
On the scheme of Chasny's work
the new one sits comfortably
between the accessibility of
School of the Flower and 2004's
The Manifestation, an album
drenched in psychedelic
With the exception of the
20-plus minute length of the
drone-filled final track, "River
of Transfiguration," the 7
tracks settle between the 2 and
5 minute mark, and left me less
than satisfied. The recording
has the same super-slickness
of School and gives an overtly
cinematic quality to a few tracks.
"The Desert is aCircle" side-steps
the eastern influence found in
the other songs, giving a tip o'
the hat to the best spaghetti
that Ennio Morricone can offer.
If I may align Morricone with
Sergio Leone, then Chasny may
be found closer to Jodoworsky.
An enjoyable listen, no doubt,
just a bit of a theme destroyer.
All the sounds found on the
album are good sounds, rest
assured, but there isn't anything
here that makes this album stand
out from the rest of the Six Organs
discog. Although, if this year's
musical releases are anything
like the last you'll be seeing this
album on more than a few "best
or lists, much fike School of the
Flower was smattered about
last time 'round. On a track-by-
track basis The Sun Awakens is
a more interesting album, but
Unfortunately nothing is gained
or feels particularly binding
in their proximity on the same
release. On the scheme of fruit
salads perhaps this is one that
hasn't sat for long enough. Each
component a fine upstanding
component yes, but lacking the
thematic ties that are needed for
an album to rise above into the
clouds of greatness.
Caroline Walker
Happy Accidents
(Empty Records)
Seattle's answer to the perfect
marriage of The Spits' spunky
punk and The A-Frames' dark
wave is this threesome and their
nine-song debut disc. Listening
to tunes like "Johnny's Tongue"
and "Road Rage" feels hke an
aural car wreck, with swerving
bass lines, jabbing guitar and
frenzied drumming. But there
are bright lights at the end of
the tunnel in "Puppy Love"
that sound hke The Buzzcocks'
tour van crashing into Alien
Sex Fiend's jam space, and "Hit
Me" drives you head-on into
its wall of distortion and Wire-
influenced punk intensity. You
can't sit through this entire
record unless pain medication is
at your side or you've had a few
stiff drinks to numb your senses ,
suitably enough for this happy
accident to take place. It's a big,
bad beautiful mess and just like
a car crash, you won't be able to
look or listen away for too long.
Bryce Dunn
Discorder     23 The Boy Least Likely To
The Bicycles
May 30
The Plaza
Twee as fuck. Toronto
openers The Bicycles looked
like they were part of a cheerleading team from the 1950s, as
they wore t-shirts emblazoned
With a giant "B". It was very
appropriate for their hyper
sugar-sweet pop. Their sunny
of The Archies' "Sugar Sugar"
with two males taking turns on
singing lead; maybe there
ti of helium in the back,
as both of their voices were sky
high. The female drummer, had
a chance to show off her voice
during a slow-sounding 60s pop
number. It was hard to pinpoint
their style as the songs ranged
from rockabilly to straight pop,
but all had upbeat choppy chords
and creative hand claps to keep
the good mood going.
For The. Boy Least Likely To's
first headlining North American
tour date, the duo expanded into
a group of six on stage, playing
a multitude of instruments
including a recorder and
glockenspiel. They were excited
to be there, and kicked things
off with. their current single
"Hugging My Grudge." There
was lots of foot stomping and
fist pumping from lead singer
Jof Owen and instrumentalist
Peter Hobbs. They ran through
pretty much the entirety of
The Best Party Ever, and the
songs sounded stronger and
much fuller live. Too bad the
sound system allowed for some
In high spirits, Owen happily
chit-chatted throughout the
night, introducing each song
With quips like, "This song is
about sex...slugs having sex."
The band even indulged in a brief
Q&A period. Questions included,
"Are you two married?" to
which they replied, "No, we're
just friends". Another question
probed Owen's relation to
Michael J. Fox.
Set highlights included the
bouncy and poppy "I'm Glad
I Hitched My Apple Wagon to
Your Star" and the heavy, chantlike "Monsters". A sweet surprise
was the addition of a tender
PG-version of George Michael's
"Faith" that had the crowd
singing backup. The surprises
didn't end there, as machines
sent a blizzard of bubbles to
engulf the crowd during the
poppy "Be Gentle with Me." A
sat The Malkin Bowl
glockenspiel never sounded so
good before tonight.
Emily Khong
Bright Eyes
June 4
Malkin Bowl
"Some sad singers, they just
play tragic." That line from
"Lover, I Don't Have to Love"
was a pretty good summation
of my assessment of Conor
Oberst before the release of
I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning.
I always found the "emotion"
channeled into the Bright Eyes
frontman's vocals irksome on
earlier releases, and some of his
best songs were buried under
messy instrumentation. His
latest, however, is a tastefully
performed, classic-sounding
American singer-songwriter
record. With that in mind, it was
with mild trepidation that I made
my way into the heart of Stanley
Park to a show advertised as
Conor and his band "performing
songs from the entire Bright
Eyes catalogue." Happily, the
restraint evident on the recent
record also lent itself to a live
setting, on songs new and old.
The show may have indeed
featured music picked from
the entirety of the very large
Bright Eyes canon, but it was
characterized by that same
classic sound that drips from
the grooves of his latest long-
player. Backed by a band that
featured Azure Ray's Maria
Taylor on drums, the evening
was dominated by the hum of
fiddle and slide guitar. They were
tight and professional, but loose
enough to avoid sounding too
polished or stiff. "Train Under
Water" swung like an outtake
from The Band,  while older
tunes like "Laura Laurent" were
given a twangy kick in the ass.
Oberst was (thankfully) sober,
and sounded great; he was
focused but amiable, and easily
shrugged off the intermittent
screams of "Conor, I love youl"
Much to the joy of those intent
on letting their adoration be
known, he even jettisoned the
band at two different points in
the evening for a pair of solo
performances that were among
the night's highlights.
"First Day of My Life"—
which is already cute enough to
melt the iciest heart—was the
perfect soundtrack to someone's
teenaged first kiss, stripped back
to guitar and vocals (he is the
reigning king of emo, after all).
And, while the song selection
was a tad obvious, I don't
know of a better way to ring
in summer in Vancouver than
sitting outdoors and listening to
the encore opening performance
of "June on the West Coast."
The show closed with the
one-two punch of "Lover, I Don't
Have to Love," followed by "An
Attempt to Tip the Scales." The
former was given some new life
by Nate Wilcot's trumpet lines
blaring out in place of the thick
strings on the original, with
the latter bringing things back
down to earth before the band
said its goodbyes.
Those "next Dylan"
comparisons are still a little
laughable, but if this show was
any indication, Conor's growth
as a musician means he's getting
a raw deal from any remaining
detractors.   .
Quinn Omori
Sex Negative
June 6
Granville Island Underground
Parking Lot
Sex Negative has two golden
rules: 1) No practicing allowed,
and 2) Only play in parking lots.
They performed on a Tuesday
night—fittingly underground—
on the bottom level of the parkade
underneath Emily Carr, a school
that two-thirds of them attend.
Next week they embark on their
first tour down the Oregon coast,
performing in whatever parking
garages suit them.
Heading to the show knowing
little (ok, nothing) about "noise"
music, I was expecting at worst
that the performance would
be 'about the music' I was
pleasantly surprised, as it proved
to be a totally entertaining and
wonderfully visual event.
Demonstrating my noise-
music unawareness, I didn't
notice that the opening act had
started until about five minutes
into his solo-set; I was quite
convinced he was just doing a
really lengthy sound check, and
having technical difficulties.
Then Sex Negative quickly
assembled themselves between
a modest crowd and the
equipment: black PA (right),
a woody air-organ that they
acquired for free (left), and.
a white drum kit (center).
The art-school trio dressed
in complementary-coloured
shirts: one purple-maroon and
the other acid yellow. It looked
fabulously staged; awkward but
The band started off with
little noises; Keith's ghostly wails
sounding simultaneously cutesy
and spooky, amplified by a few
feet of some aluminum. Things
inevitably got harder and faster.
A round of endearingly futile
attempts to shove the little mic
into the PA, the air organ and
any other equipment ensued.
An impotent rage was apparent
as the drums got harder and
the guitar seared our ears in
the relentless echo of the cool
concrete parking lot. Vocals
escalated into yowls, as plugs
and cords were thrust in and
out of their inputs. Keith started
to smash the aluminum tube
flat, between tippy-toe dancing
and beating up the helpless
woody organ. When the high-
hat came apart and the mic was
broken through and through,
Keith wandered offstage left, lit
a smoke, and the set was over.
Everybody clapped.
Robyn Croft
The Apes
June 9
Richard's On Richards
With a final nip from my flask
I headed through the Richard's
doors, where the bouncers were
shaking the place down like it
was an LA high school. Blinking
in the dim and din, I paused to
get my bearings, asking around
to determine if the band on
stage was The Rabbits or The
Apes. "Oh, it's Rabbits," I was
assured, "This shit is okay, but it
gets boring fast. I'm waiting for
Apes to go on—they're gonna
slay." Drawn by the psychedelic
wash of the keyboards and the
autistic fervour of the man in
the knit headband and vest
on the drums, I made my way
closer to the stage, unswayed by
prophecies of suck.
At first I was skeptical. The
distorted guitar kept straying
into funky territory, and I
couldn't shake visions of Tom
Morello  jiving   around   in   a
Photo by Kimberley Day
"Commie" hat. The vocals
were of the chanted manifesto
variety, but rarely stood out over
the rest of the mayhem. Leaning
over to an enraptured concert-
goer between songs, I "again
inquired to see who the band
was. "Dude, it's The Apes." Just
as the revelation sank in, a wall
of bass from the next song set
my chest to throbbing and my
foot to stomping, and I closed my
eyes. Feeling like the inevitable
wastoid at every rave that
spends the entire night blissed
out in front of the speakers, I
swayed to and fro with a dopey
grin, savouring the distortion
and rhythmic beatdown. The
set ended to the roar of fickle
fans praising the genius of The
Apes; now that they weren't The
Rabbits, their middle-of-the-
road cacophony got the official
With extra drums and effects
pedals strewn about the stage,
Liars.launched into a crowd-
effacing set led by the towering
pillar of Angus Andrew. Having
recently read David Byrne's
review of a Sunn O))) show,
I was hoping to see another
rendition of noise music as
modern theatre, but I was a little
disappointed. Angus did some
nice circular hip-thrusting and
Lanky Kong-style arm flails, but
it could have been more sinister.
The music, though, was full of
menace. With an effects-heavy
floor torn skillfully re-creating
the unique rhythms oWrum's Not
Dead, Angus' dissonant guitar
work filled the room with an evil
air. If you allowed yourself to be
swept up in the glorious mess,
their set was utterly captivating,
a short relief from the burden of
David Ravensbergen
24    July 2006 CITR CHARTS!
//////////////////////////////// Strictly the dopest hits of June
: a 3 ja
L 1 (_ "g
I Kill
| 11
2 -a _ ts
•'#      Artist
Label                    •
2      Leather Uppers*
Bright Lights
.     '	
4      Sparrow*
The New Pastoral
-                       Independent
Independent    *
6 Camera Obscura
7 'tt-Kj-mpfaets"     *      '
8 Sonic Youth
.'fbO'Puckmtf-IA&idiiiil    \'4V '*?•.
9     Streaming Eagles*
*   .   'So*!_UJtHig Eagles,
10    Building Castles Out Of
The Secret Doctrine
11 tbeCtMcbwhips
12 Pony Up!*
DealifeDiMSt                  ..
13    I_eii._ Normal*   '      ,  r
3*1 ^^^fi^^^^^^^^^S
14    Tokyo PoBceCJub*
A Lesson In Crime
13   Bun Chico San*
16    12Year01dG_l*                           Swampmonster                                                            Independent
17    iJo&tf.^,:.,
*fom«., -,
18    Experimental Dental School           2 1/2 Creatures                                                            Cochon
tik-|fe|Wto' Jennys*
fafwrwfc^   '   '
;'S^>|lipfcoi Beach
20    Epsilons
Retard Disco
21    The. Matadors*     ■
Stereo Dynamite
22    Matmos
The Rose Has Teeth In The Mouth 0]
The Beast                  Matador
23    Cadence Weapon*
Breaking Kaitfabe
Upper Ciass
24    The Futureheads
News And Tributes
25    TtoD'UrbraviBes*
Red Cat Records
4307 Main St.
New & Used CD's & Vinyl
ph. 708-9422 * email buddytredeatea
:#      Artist
Label                    !
26   Feist*
Open Season
Arts & Crafts
27    Wyrd Visions*
Half Eaten Guitar
28    Raconteurs
Broken Boy Soldiers
Big Dada
29    Mission Of Burma
Matador '
30    Various
ropical             Sublime Frequencies
31    Kimya Dawson
Remember That I Love You
32   Fiery Furnaces
Bitter Tea-
Fat Possum
33   Babrye
34    Kinnie Starr*
35   BeYourOwnPet
Ecstatic Peace
36    TheKa-Nhres
Get Duped
37    Killa
Say Hey
38    Calexico
Garden Ruin
Quarterstick .
39   Feathers
40    The Pointed Sticks*
Waiting For The Real Thing
Sudden Death
41   The Doers*
WhatchaDoin' ?
Red Cat
42    The Cops
Red Cat
43    Dragonforee
Inhuman Rampage
44    Om
Conference Of The Birds
45   FCS North
Holy Mountain
Mass Mvmnt
46    Rose Melberg
Cast Away The Clouds
Double Agent
47   The Creeping Nobodies*
Double Agent
48 Neil Young*
49 They Shoot Horses Don't They?*
Living With War
Boo Hoo Hoo Boo
Kill Rock Stars
50    Coldcut
Sound Mirrors
Ninja Tune GUIDE
\ You can listen to CiTR online at wwwcitr.ca or on the car at 101.9 FM^
Breakfast with
the Browns
Highbred Voices
Suburban Jungle
Em Qr v^Wotdp. Ni&Vs
Cute Band Alert!
Third Time's The Charm
Ska-T's Scenic
Morning "Atter Show
thf Rockers
Parts Unknown
These are the Breaks
Generation Ambulation
Democracy Now
•on nth
Let's Get Baked
Native Solidarity News
Radio A Go
Rhymes & Reasons
Nardwuar Presents
Queer cm
Necessary Voices
Leo R amiriv. Show
SonofNite Uncommon
Dreems      Practice
Saxakjo Mini mo
African Rhythms
Shadow Jugglers
the Jazz Show
caught in
. thfRed
Live faom Tm'N&ftjfftgRD
Planet Lovetron
Synaptic Sandwich
Disasterpiece Theatre
Vengeance is Meme
Hans Kloss'
Misery Hour
^'WH&SaTEJiXITfif ?
Brats prom the
I Like the Scribbles
Alral Tjemaclts
The Vampire's Ball
In two hours, I take the listener
for a spin—musically—around
the world; my passion is African
music and music from the
Diaspora. Afrobeat is where
you can catch up on the latest
in the "World Music" scene
and reminisce on the classic
collections. Don't miss it.
Reggae inna all styles and fashion.
Real cowshit-caught-in-yer-boots
British pop music from all
decades. International pop
(Japanese, French, Swedish,
British, US, etc.), 60s soundtracks
and lounge. Book your jet-set
holiday nowl
Dedicated to the gay, lesbian,
bisexual, and transexual communities of Vancouver. Lots
of human interest features,
and great music.
Rhythmsindia features a wide
range of music from India,
including popular music from the
1930s to the present, classical
music, semi-classical music such
as Ghazals and Bhajans, and
also Qawwalis, pop, and regional
language numbers.
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 mystical.
_____________ MONDAY
BROWNS (Eclectic)
Your favourite Brown-sters, James
and Peter, offer a savoury blend of
the familiar and exotic in a blend
of aural delights!
A mix of indie pop, indie rock,
and pseudo underground hip hop,
with your host, Jordie Sparkle.
ALT. RADIO (Toll;)
Hosted by David B.
Underground pop for the minuses
with the occasional interview
with your host, Chris.
LET'S GET BAKED w/matt & dave
Vegan baking with "rock stars"
like Sharp Like Knives, Whitey
Houston, The Novaks and more.
A national radio service and part
of an international network of
information and action in support
of indigenous peoples'survival
and dignity. We are all volunteers
committed to promoting Native
self-determination, culturally,
economically, spiritually and
otherwise. The show is self-
sufficient, without government or
corporate funding.
W.I.N.G.S. (Talk)
Womens International News
Gathering Service.
Vancouver's longest ranning
primetime jazz program. Hosted
by the ever-suave, Gavin Walker.
July 3: Tonight we celebrate
the birthday of one of the most
individual voices of the trumpet,
Johnny Coles. "Little Johnny C"
played with everyone but made
few recordings on his own. This
is a good one that has an all-star
cast. "Little Johnny-C" tonight.
July 10: Another Birthday and
a live performance as well.
Recorded on July 10 1970 at
"The Lighthouse." Trumpet
Great Lee Morgan and his last
great band cook and burn with
fire and intensity in a not to be
missed feature.
July 17: A once in a lifetime
meeting with the Modern Jazz
Quartet (John Lewis, Piano, Milt.
Jackson, vibes, Percy Health,
bass, Connie Kay, drums) and
that most distinctive voice of the
alto saxophone, Paul Desmond.
A perfect blend of music recorded
in concert in New York.
July 24: Another birthday by one
of the living legends of the alto
saxophone and one of the true
keepers of the concepts of Charlie
Parker. Charles McPherson
appears on a definitive recording
tonight in honour of his 6 7th
birthday. "Today's Man" is what
Charles is all about.
July 31: Kenny Burrelf is 75
today and one of the true masters
of the guitar. Burrell's most
artistic recording is tonight's
feature. Small group tunes and
then five selections accompanied
by Gil Evans' arrangements and
large orchestra and topping off
with a solo guitar piece. "Guitar
Forms" is Kenny's masterpiece.
All the best the world of punk has
to offer, in the wee hours of the
______■_■ TUESDAY
Bluegrass, old-time music, and its
derivatives with Arthur and the
lovely Andrea Berman.
26     July 2006 4
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
SHOW (Edectic)
Movie reviews and criticism.
En Avant La Musiquel se
concentre sur le metissage des
genres musicaux au sein d'une
francophonie ouverte a tous les
courants. This program focuses
on cross-cultural music and its
influence on mostly Francophone
Join the sports department for
their coverage of the T-Birds.
Up the punx, down the emo!
Keepin' it real since 1989, yo.
Salario Minimo, the best rock in
Spanish show in Canada.
Trawling the trash heap of over 50
years' worth of rock n' roll debris.
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.
ANOIZE (Noise)
Luke Meat irritates and educates
through musical deconstruction.
Recommended for the strong.
Independent news hosted by
award-winning jounalists Amy
Goodman and Juan Gonzalez.
Primitive, fi_zed-out garage mayhem!
Cycle-riffic rawk and roll!
activist news and spoken word
with some music too.
First Wednesday of every month.
BLUE MONDAY (Goth/Industrial)
Vancouver's only industrial-
electronic-retro-goth program.
Music to schtomp to, hosted by
Developing your relational
and individual sexual health,
expressing diversity, celebrating
queerness, and encouraging
pleasure at all stages. Sexuality
educators Julia and Alix
will quench your search for
responsible, progressive sexuality
over your life span!
Two hours of eclectic roots music.
Don't own any Birkenstocks?
Allergic to patchouli? C'mon in! A
kumbaya-free zone since 1997.
(Hans Kloss)
This is pretty much the best thing
on radio.
___________ THURSDAY
Sweet dance music and hot jazz
from the 1920s, 30s, and 40s.
Punk rock, indie pop, and
whatever else I deem worthy.
Hosted by a closet nerd.
Zoom a little zoom on the My
Science Project rocket ship,
piloted by your host, Julia, as
we navigate eccentric, underexposed, always relevant and
plainly cool scientific research,
technology, and poetry
(submissions welcome).
Experimental, radio-art, sound
collage, field recordings, etc.
Recommended for the insane.
RADIO HELL (live Music)
Live From Thunderbird Radio
Hell showcases local talent...LIVE!
Honestly, don't even ask about the
technical side of this.
CUTE BAM) ALERT! (Edectic)
Email requests to:
Top notch crate digger DJ Avi
Shack mixes underground hip
hop, old school classics, and
original breaks.
RADIO ZERO (Edectic)
NEWS 101 (Talk)
A volunteer-produced student and
community newscast featuring
news, sports and arts. Reports by
people like you. "Become the Media."
Independent Canadian music
from almost every genre
imaginable covering the east
coast to the left coast and all
points in between. Yes, even
best new and old jazz, soul, Latin,
samba, bossa and African music
from around the world.
Music inspired by Chocolate
Thunder; Robert Robot drops
electro past and present, hip hop
and intergalactic funkmanship
Beats mixed with audio from old
films and clips from the internet
10% discount for callers who are
certified insane. Hosted by Chris D.
Dark, sinister music to soothe
and/or move the Dragon's soul.
Hosted by Drake.
E (Roots)
Studio gWsts, new releases,
British coiMsdy sketches, folk
tc calendar, and ticket
Afinemixof st
school hardcore backe1jbj band
interviews, guest speat
social commentary.
Vancouver's only true metal
show; local demo tapes, imports,
and other rarities. Gerald
Rattlehead, Dwain, and Metal
Ron do the damage.
From backwoods delta low-down
slide to urban harp honks, blues,
and blues roots with your hosts
Jim, Andy and Paul.
The best of music, news, sports,
and commentary from around
the local and international Latin
American communities.
OUR WAVE (World)
News, arts, entertainment and
music for the Russian community,
local and abroad.
An exciting chow of Drum n' Bass
with DJs Jimungle & Bias on the
ones and twos, plus guests. Listen
for give-aways every week. Keep
feelin da beatz.
(HipHop)     i-
Science regularly moves in and out of
the hot seat of public concern about
various issues, such as genetic engineering
or stem cell research. That groundbreaking
science impacts our world is not new (i.e.,
Newton's Theory of Gravity, or Darwin's
Theory of Natural Selection are but two
of many). However, the pace of discovery
is only accelerating. Further, science is
becoming increasingly specialized, as
well as more interdisciplinary, and with
this brings complex data, new concepts
and more jargon. These trends make it
challenging for researchers, not to mention
non-scientists, to keep abreast and properly
informed of scientific advances and their
implications for us all.
Enter current UBC Life Sciences
Postdoctoral Fellow, Julia Boughner, your
host of "My Science Project." The mission
of this bi-monthly show about science and
technology is to haul research from the
ivory tower and thrust it onto the airwaves
in plain language (and set to groovy music,
natch). There are many popular science TV
and radio shows out there, but very few
alternatives to the more traditional science
forums. "My Science Project" aims to fill this
niche. Julia is keenly aware that scientific
research is in many ways indivisible from the
culture of the day, and the show addresses
the socio-cultural implications—including
money and politics—around sci and tech
Ultimately, most Canadian science
is funded by our federal and provincial
governments; i.e. YOU. So it behooves
Canadians to know the research being
funded (or what science should be funded
but isn't). "My Science Project" regularly
features one or two "hot" science topics and
science news, both domestic and worldwide.
Past shows have included segments on
e funding. Peak Oil, "superbugs," the
Ignoble Awards, and ageing. A soon-to-
be broadcast show will explore the status
of what are considered by many to be the
"slave labour" of the lab, aka postdocs (but
not as slavish as grad students, mind).
That "My Science Project" is hosted by
a woman is significant, as female scientists
remain under-represented, for an array of
reasons. As a primer about this, check out
the Vancouver-based Society for Canadian
Women in Science and Technology (www.
harbour.sfu.ca/scwist). Fellow UBC postdoc
(and woman!) Anne Mullin is a frequent
co-host on "My Science Project." Anne and
Julia also a co-organize Vancouver's Cafe
Scientifique, an open forum for scientific
discussion in a relaxed setting. These
monthly evening talks (where Powerpoint
is verboten) feature speakers and topics
on everything from climate change to the
wonders of our cellular machinery. The
party goes down at the Railway Club: check
out www.cafesci-van.com for more info.
Above all else, science is just plain
fun. A recent contest run on "My Science
Project" asked listeners to send in science
poetry to win Science World OmniMax film
passes. The response was disappointing
(entries were very much skewed to the
hosts' friends and family, shock-horrorl). So
does this mean that people aren't listening?
Nope. When Julia found herself with
awesome prizes in need of winners, she and
Anne changed the requirements from "send
in a science poem" to "phone in with your
best monkey call." Within 5 minutes of
asking callers to proclaim allegiance to our
closest genetic relatives the board lit up and
several sets of passes were snatched up! Julia
is not quite sure what to make of this, but
perhaps our monkey callers will be pleased
to know that an upcoming show will focus
on the extinction of the great apes.
David "Love" Jones brings you the ZUIU PRESENTS THE DEBUTANTES MLL
Ah! Debut releases in the peak of their youth are a picture of loveliness,
of health, of self-assurance, of boundless expectations, and are full of joie de vivre.
S/t CD
I this backwoods folksy beauty is unlike any record
in the shop. Brightblack's meditations on Rhodes
and deep bass mixed with delicate angelic vocals
have a near hypnotic quality as they seduce one out into their dense and dark
sonic wilderness! They hang with Banhart, Coco Rosie, and Joanna Newsome
in a Northern California teepee waiting for their spirit animal to boogie—istrt \t:.
time yours does?
Gulag Ortcestra CD
Beirut is actually from Brooklyn, but they are signed to
Memphis Industries. The guy in the band is just a
Kertager and has his whole career ahead of him, but hey,
if his is anything like the guy in Neutral Milk Hotel (whom |
Beirut is oft compared to) they he may just call Ht quits
soon, as really, when you make something so beautiful as
Beirut — why do on? But we beg you to go on!! A must listen for those into
enchanting records, smart indie rock records, or just plain strange records! Bravo.
CD 16.98
CD 16.98
Desert Doughnuts CD
Contrary to popular belief Metallic
Movie Monster CD
\J Falcons is not the code word to gi
you into the after craft party. In fact,
Metallic Falcons is the debut recordings I
from Coco Rosie s Sierra Casady and
Matteah Bairn of Voodoo Eras.
Described as soft metal, MJ.'s are the first indications that per-
haps "freak-folk" is mutating into a new era of metal machine
music inspired ambient blessed out opera!?! Face it, everyone I
goes electric at sometime and within tlie first listen of
these 14 spectral anthems, you too wil I be ready to ride    I
the lightning! This is very good.
CD 16.98
s/t CD
A charming debut that
made the midnight
music bloggers pass on hot
dates to tell us all about the
new talents of Sarah Assbring. Combining doo-
wop girl group sounds, sweet '50s vocal pop, ar
'60s innocent lullabies, these ecstatic Md-j
and ooh-ooh-ooh's make for an album that one I
can warm up to instantly. Lyrically the record & sj
slow descent into loneliness and heartbreak, so i
you do hook up with this debutante be sure you I
will never leave your house again! Magnificent,!'
CD 16.98
Now You Are
None of Us
Kill Rock Stars has a
reputation for great releases that blend art,
punk and politics. Well now you have a new
debut to file next to your Deerhoof and Gossip!
Pftchforkmedia called these guys Brecht-punk
and really they nailed it: arty songs with high
drama that pierces the heart of the matter while ■
rupturing the aesthetics of their form. This is a
o watch for years to come!
just the latest in a long list of great bands that are
^Wt afraid to rock the house. Turn up this kick ass
jjg|exftrt and you will hear their complex mix of
Spoon, Interpol, The New Pornographers, Dinosaur
Jr, Sonic Youth and even My Bloody Valentine. Conventional wisdom would
I TfefQttthat any band who can synthesize all those sounds without sounding
likea rip-off must be pretty amazing. Movie Monster is just that!
CD 16.98
Avalanches CD
You only get one first
impression, but for Sufjan
k    we implore you make this
Hb exception! The little secret
>- ^m K  behind Stevens, acclaimed
K Illinois'1 is that it was originally
H| conceived as a double album, culminating in a musical
^•collage of nearly 50 songs. But as the project began to
I (develop into an unwieldy epic, common sense weighed
lyyn-as did the opinions of others-and the project was cut
fiffin half. But as 2005 came to a close, Sufjan returned to
OS-One remaining songs on his 8-track. What he uncovered
P* went beyond the merits of nostalgia. Sufjan gleaned 21
rk tracks from remaining material; some songs were in fin-
. ished form, while others were merely outlines. Most of
I the material required substantial editing, new arrange-
p- ments or vocals, and much of the work was done at the
I   end of 2005 or in January the following year. As the title
song "The Avalanche' bemuses, "I call you once my
|     friends," Sufjan took in the odd musical misfits and
gathered them together like a party of good friends.
0    Available July 11th
CD 16.98
A Tiling to live With CD
The debut release for this local jazzbo
super group that features our city's leading free players, including Stephen Lyons, JP
Carter, Skye Brooks, Jesse Zubot and more.
A must listen for those fond of prog-rock
freak outs, pastoral new music, back-porch
picking, wonky jazz, hardcore math-metal,
S/t CD
Gracing the cover of last
At last! A 5 song debut from one of
Vancouver's most promising new faces.
Known for their mellow space-psych jams
with minimal percussion, Anemones offer a
sweet morning after come down sound that
draws upon elements of Spaceman 3,
Velvet Underground, Can and vocally the
forlorn style of Skip Spence. Like their name and ambient drones. As described, this kalei-
suggests, Anemones is music for sitting on   doscopic sonic wonder, pushes the limits of
Tgg&H. m the bottom of the ocean cos the     sound proving that to get free... one can ulti-   spunk, Shapes and Sizes are an amusing listen krtrjtfSjf
world above is full of chaos. Way to go guys, mately go further! Awesome. ennui simulacra sonic landscape — we salute them!
month's Discorder, VictarTars
hot-shots Slopes and Sizes now
mate their debut available on
Asthmatic Kitty! Placing smart,
catchy pop hooks beside chaotic
experimentation, slower, more melancholy songs, and even
flirting with straight up rock, the quartet juggles contrasting
moods with veteran tike ease. Quirky, jerky and full of
CD 16.98 EPCD 6.98 CD 16.98
Available July 11th
CD 16.98
UNTi. JULY 31,2006
JULY 1^-7™ JULY S™-14™
20% OFF 20% OFF
— — — — — — __m — __._. mm mm mm mm — « — mm mm mm\
JULY 15™-21*T JULY 22"ro-28TH
20% OFF 20% OFF
Zulu, guide to July's
must see live draws:
Sun July 901
Ray Davies
Get your legendary Kinks!
Thurs. July 13*
They Shoot Horses,
Don't They?
Richards on Richards
Local art rockers.
Fri. July 14*
Reverend Horton
Turn up the rocka&ffly heat
Tues. July 18th
Warped Tour
T-Bird Arena
Ail day Mohawks!
Sat. July 22"*
Nicolai Dunger
Media Club
An intimate everting of
folk-blues from Sweden.
Mon. July 24*
Camera Obscura
Plaza Club
Glasgow's latest twee pop
Tues. July 25*
Broken Social
Scene/Sam Roberts
Deer Lake Park
Music outdoors, Jove
Wed. July 26"
The Raconteurs
Malkin Bowl
Your weekend witti Jack
White's lost weekend.  , >
Sun. July 30*
Magnolia Electric Co.
Richards on Richards
Crazy Horse lovin, Molina
rides Into town!
Sun. July SO*
Red Room
A different kind of tension!
Sun. July 30*
Six Organs of
Media Club
The best psych-fotk-rock
Stop by Zulu and
squint at the ticket
board - July is jam
packed, as is August
and September!
::' " 9
Zulu Records
1972-1976 W 4th Ave
Vancouver, BC
tel 604.738.3232
Mon to Wed   10:30-7:00


Citation Scheme:


Citations by CSL (citeproc-js)

Usage Statistics



Customize your widget with the following options, then copy and paste the code below into the HTML of your page to embed this item in your website.
                            <div id="ubcOpenCollectionsWidgetDisplay">
                            <script id="ubcOpenCollectionsWidget"
                            async >
IIIF logo Our image viewer uses the IIIF 2.0 standard. To load this item in other compatible viewers, use this url:


Related Items