Dispatch from Jesusland North

January 25, 2006... Barely twenty-four hours into the rule of the Bloodless Freak Party and civilization as we know it in Canada has already started to crumble. Just yesterday, I saw a man cross the street mid-block (illegally) without noticing a fast-approaching snowplow cross the centre line (illegally) in order to pass a mail truck double-parked (illegally).

Someone is going to get hurt out there. And I have a feeling it's gonna to be the guy who just made a minimum payment to one creditor with money borrowed, at a higher rate of interest, from another.

No matter how bad my finances get, I will never part with my copy of Porcelain Forehead's Right Now! The World Needs a Clear Head. Released by the Ottawa-based band in 1983, the EP is seven inches of non-stop pleasure.

Porcelain Forehead - That Number Again Folks

From the opening snippet of dialogue, borrowed from televangelist and Moral Majority leader, Jerry Falwell, this fucker delivers the punk rock goods. Sounding the tiniest bit like the Dead Kennedys, but, for the most part, like no one else, Porcelain Forehead demonstrates an understanding of sofisticated musical concepts like changing the pace or volume level every now and then. Their ambitious arrangements turn the typical verse-chorus-verse song structure on its ear, as well. Best of all, they do it all (usually) without being ponderous bores.

Porcelain Forehead - How High?

My favourite thing about this record, even more than the individually hand-screened and stamped cover, is the lyrics. They're, like, all poetic.

Thematically, "How High," a song about wage slavery, is the most stereotypically "punk" of the bunch. But even then, its lyrics are oblique. Take, for example, how the song title relates to the lyrics: in a society of wage slaves, when the boss says jump, the slaves ask "How high?" Of course, the lyrics don't say that: it's left for the reader/listener to infer.

I don't know about you, but I'll take abstruse poeticism over simplistic sloganeering any day... (Oddly enough, I'll also take fart humour over abstruse poeticism any day...)

Elsewhere on the EP, lyrics are written from the point-of-view of a sniper ("Gleaning Ground"), are free associative ("Q"), or, as in the next song, are about a Buddhist Monk setting his bad ass self on fire.

Porcelain Forehead - Human Torch

"Human Torch" is where my love affair with Porcelain Forehead began. Given the context, the line "I've figured out how they make spam," is especially tasteless and priceless. And I just can't get enough of that rumbling bass sound. Fortunately, it's all over the record.

After Porcelain Forehead split, in 1985, the vocalist, Mike Hillis, sang for a short-lived Toronto-based quartet called The Nth that also featured former Polkaholics guitarist, Dick. Sonically, The Nth was closer to Polkaholics than Porcelain Forehead. Unfortunately, as far as I can tell, they never recorded or released anything, which is a shame. They were a good band.

Hillis was one of the characters featured in Alan Zweig's 2000 documentary, Vinyl, about obssessive record collectors. I'm not sure what ever happened to the other members of Porcelain Forehead, Polkaholics and The Nth.

For more about Porcelain Forehead, check out the website for No Cause for Concern, which features a brief band bio as well as a band tour diary.

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Baby's First Vinyl-to-MP3 Conversion

January 19, 2006... After a three-year separation, I have been reunited with part of my record collection. And, with the assistance of the people who responded to my January 1 post, I have figured out how to convert the fuckers into mp3s, too. So, let's get this party started... (Warning: there will be guitars.)

Polkaholics were a Toronto-based band during the early-to-mid 1980s. A trio, comprised of Dick (guitar and vocals), Soon (bass and vocals) and David (drums), Polkaholics released a twelve-inch EP in 1983 and an LP about a year later.

The EP, entitled Polkaholics EP, starts innocuously enough. "Inside Our Hearts" is a pleasant-sounding, if mournful number with clanging guitar and a slide trombone. Sure, the lyrics are a little odd... "Inside the iron maiden/It's as cold as a refridgerator/Inside our hearts/(It) smells like a hospital." Overall though, (it) sounds like what would've passed for normal on college radio in 1983.

Next up is "The Garbage Song," which is a little further out there. It's jazzy in the way that Black Flag was "jazzy" at the time. It's funky in the way that the Minutemen were funky at the time. But the lyrics... The lyrics... The lyrics read like a note from one roomate to another: "You take out the garbage/I'll do the dishes/Wash the floor/I'll clean the toilet/O.K.?"

Then there's this song.

Polkaholics - Bottomless Pit of Love

"Bottomless Pit of Love" is retarded, near-tuneless slide guitar blooze with high-pitched, warbled vocals. It is quite unlike anything you have heard before--unless you've already heard this next song, that is.

Polkaholics - Syllables for Simple People

Okay, lemme explain what it is that you've just heard. In the choruses of "Syllables for Simple People," Polkaholics' masterwork, the two vocalists, Dick (low) and Soon (high) are trading off syllables. What sounds like "Syl do la you bles have for a sim can ple o peop pen ple er," because it is, is actually Dick singing "Syllables for simple people," one syllable at a time, while Soon does the same with the line "Do you have a can opener?"

Clearly, we are in the presence of genius.

The basic parameters of Polkaholism--disorienting music, disoriented lyrics--established, the band throws a curve ball near the end of the record. "Kill Yourself Now (Why Wait for the War?)" is David Bowie as a goth with a first-generation Coleco video game as his rhythm section.

Polkaholics - Kill Yourself Now (Why Wait for the War?)

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It Ain't The Law That's A Ass

January 17, 2006... Notwithstanding the last post, I've been pretty good about not polluting this "mp3 blog" with shit related to the election campaign currently underway in Canada.

It's not that the pols haven't given me material to write about. Like when the leader of the Liberal Party tried to use the Conservative Party leader's imagined lack of patriotism as a wedge issue, for example... A member of the press asked Stephen Harper, leader of the Conservative Party, if he loved Canada, and Harper hemmed and hawed for a few seconds before finally saying that he thinks Canada is "great." I'm not sure that's evidence of a lack of patriotism so much as it is evidence that Harper might prefer to deal with real, substantive issues rather than trying to appeal to the lowest common denominator with empty, meaningless gestures. In this regard, he would appear to be very much unlike his opponent, Paul Martin, of the Liberals.

Martin (right) and Harper (further right)

On the downside, though, when Harper and his Conservative comrades put their minds to real, substantive issues, they seem to come up with some ... uh ... odd ideas. I mean, what would really be achieved by implementing the promised monthly day care subsidy of $100 per child for every family in Canada? Rich fuckers who can already afford to place their chirren in day care don't need the money; and for most poor fuckers who can't afford to place their chirren in day care, $100 per chile per month ain't gonna make no difference no how.

But I digress...

I was eating dinner in a restaurant recently when the owner came over and started talking to me about his business. Business is bad, he told me. But it isn't because the place is empty. No. It's because of the government. Yeah. Their $35-fee-for-this and $60-fee-for-that, he said, is killing him... "What we oughta do," he said, "Instead of holding elections, is pick names out of a hat. You and I couldn't do no worse than them crooks we got in there now."

I was shocked. I'd been thinking the same thing for quite a while.

If our Members of Parliament were chosen at random from the entire citizenry, we'd end up with a Parliament that more accurately reflected our society. Because of the law of averages, about half our MPs would be female. There'd probably be more visible minorities, too. Best of all, though, there'd be people in the House who knew first hand what it was like to struggle and fail. Not like now, when an exclusive club of lawyers and business owners make decisions effecting all of society--even though they have no idea how the other 85% live.

Yeah, it'd be like jury duty. Your name gets pulled outta the hat, you go to Ottawa for a year. No ifs, ands or buts ... unless you're non compos mentis, that is.

Your income level doesn't change, either. If you were broke before, you stay broke while in office. But now you're lending your perspective as a broke motherfucker to the proceedings of Parliament. Mmm... I like the sound of that.

And it's not that weird an idea. In 2003, British Columbia randomly chose a Citizens' Assembly of 160 people to study the issue of electoral reform. The Assembly duly studied the issue and eventually recommended a series of electoral reforms that 58% of the electorate later accepted in a referendum. Unfortunately, in an odd twist on the concept of majority rule, the rich windbags in office had set the threshold for a win at 60%, so nothing changed...

Think about it, though. You and I couldn't do no worse than them crooks we got in there now.

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Dispatches from the T-Dot

January 10, 2006... I was in The Biggest Smoke for a few hours recently. The first thing I noticed when I stepped off the bus downtown was the spicy, proto-fart smell of street meat. How I'd missed that smell, living for the past two-and-a-half years in a place where everything is strictly regulated and tube steak dispensaries are limited to exactly two locations...

I also noticed a Middle Eastern restaurant called Syriandipity on Queen Street West, which I briefly considered eating in, and, on Spadina, My Chafing Dish, a Chinese restaurant which I did not briefly consider eating in.

Of course, The Biggest Smoke has been in the news for reasons other than culinary of late. On Boxing Day, a fifteen year old girl named Jane Creba was killed by gunfire on a busy street filled with shoppers. Speculation is that she was an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire between rival gangs. Canadians have been wringing their hands in despair ever since. Whatever will we do about the rising tide of gunplay and murder on our streets? Canadian politicians, propitiously in the middle of an election campaign, have been only too happy to offer suggestions.

The Institutionalized Kuruption Party has vowed to ban handguns if elected, seemingly oblivious to the facts that: a) it is already well-nigh impossile to buy handguns here legally; and b) criminals will occasionally resort to illegal means to obtain illegal weapons.

The Party of Ignorant, Selfish Boors, for its part, has promised mandatory prison sentences for persons convicted of weapons offences ... which seems reasonable enough. However, speculation is that the party's hidden agenda on the subject includes the last two bullet points leaked here.

Only the Ineffectual Party has spoken at any length about combatting the causes of crime—e.g., the growing gap between the rich and the poor in this country and the lack of legitimate channels for self-improvement for those at the bottom. (Due to an odd quirk of our electoral system, however, the Ineffectual Party never wins more than five or six percent of the seats in Parliament, even when, as usual, fifteen or twenty percent of the people vote for them.)

Yes, Canada has poor people—lots and lots of poor people—and, just like in other countries, most of them are herded together and kept in separate neighbourhoods, far from rich people. One of the problems with this approach to organizing "society" is that it limits the opportunities for poor people to find a "legitimate" way out of poverty.

See, if you grow up in a wealthy neighbourhood, you make connections with other wealthy people. The lady down the block who skies with your parents? She's a senior civil servant. So when your parents mention that you're looking for work, your neighbour pulls a few strings, and you get a good, entry level job in the civil service. You're off on the good foot.

You grow up in a poor neighbourhood, though, and most of your neighbours will be unemployed. Ain't nothing those people can do to help you get off on the good foot. And trying to get by on social assistance, when rates have been cut so drastically over the past decade that they no longer cover rent, let alone food, clothing and transportation... Maybe the lady on the fifth floor can help you score a job at McDonald's or Walmart or whatever union-busting conglomerate she works at, but it'll be part-time at minimum wage, just like hers. And anyway, she been working there for years, but she still living in a cockroach-infested slum like everyone else. Fact is, the only person in the neighbourhood earning a living wage, the only person who can give you a leg-up, is a drug dealer.

Is it really so hard to fathom why some young people get involved in criminal gangs?

Wu Tang Clan - C.R.E.A.M

There are probably 1,001 hip-hop songs that tell the same story. "C.R.E.A.M." was the first one that came to mind. If you need help with the lyrics, go here.

To be effective, any strategy to combat gangs, gunplay and crime in Canada must include a concerted effort to promote equality of opportunity. I hope that whichever group of rich people wins the election will acknowledge this reality. I won't hold my breath waiting, however—except when I vote.

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Music for In-Laws

January 4, 2006... While Gumdrop and I were still cohabiting, we fell into the habit of playing the same CD whenever members of her family were over. It was cool enough to be in our collection, alongside the Steel Pole Bath Tub and the Sun City Girls CDs, but inoffensive enough to play for parents and siblings.

Another side benefit is hearing how the improvised lyrical battles of hip-hop were presaged in calypso, as demonstrated in song "Picong Duel" by Mighty Sparrow and Lord Melody. Plus there's de 'ole beautiful-version-of-English ting...

Mighty Sparrow and Lord Melody - Picong Duel

So, what do you play when your in-laws are over for a visit?

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And Now, The Complete Sketch Again

January 1, 2006... A lot of people died in 2005. Like, probably more than in any other year, ever. Unfortunately, none of them was Jessica Simpson. Plastic is pretty sturdy stuff, I guess.

During the year past, Randy "Biscuit" Turner, former vocalist of early Texas punk band The Big Boys, ascended to the great urine-stinking bar in the sky. There, he was eventually joined by electric guitar innovator Link Wray, ska pioneer Laurel Aitken, comedian/alchemist Richard Pryor, and Denis "Piggy" D'Amour, guitar wizard of the Quebecois prog-metal group Voivod.

The death that most saddened me, though, was that of Quebecois actor Marc Favreau, who died on December 17, at the age of 76.

Favreau, in the role of Sol, the hobo clown, played an important role in my childhood. His late-seventies / early-eighties television show, Parlez-Moi, taught me much of what I know about the culture of the French-speaking world.

In Parlez-Moi, Favreau, in English, would introduce a sketch which was then acted-out in French by his sad-sack alter ego, Sol. Each sketch was split into three segments with Favreau reappearing after each segment to review the new vocabulary. After reviewing the third segment, Favreau would say "Andnowthecompletesketchagain," which is how French-Canadians say "And now, the complete sketch again," and the complete sketch would play uninterrupted. Ah, the memories...

Surely Favreau is in heaven now, dressed like a bum and eating canned beans from his tattered hat.

Repos dans la paix (?), Sol.

Parlez-Moi Theme

Laurel Aitken - Shake

Big Boys - Fun Fun Fun

P.S. If anyone has any advice about what software to use to convert vinyl into mp3s, I'd like to hear it.

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