there goes another one

A very, very long time ago I swore to myself that I'd one day learn to play Fleetwood Mac's Never Going Back Again on guitar. There was just something about the song that made me want to know how it's done.

I really didn't know how to play guitar back then. Like, at all. I just remember talking a lot of shit on how I was going to learn that song and blow everyone away, like how people learn one song on piano just to impress their friends when they see one in their living room. But again, I didn't know anything about guitar. I didn't know how to read tablature, what a capo was, and how to tune an instrument any other way.

Now I'm not saying by any means that I'm a pro player today. SO far from it. It's more of a hobby than anything. I'll usually have two guitars in my house at most times that are kept in different tunings, just for fun.
The interesting thing (and yes there is one) is that skills advance over time without even realizing it. Almost how a runner will add a mile to a run without recognizing they'd done it.

Today, I'm sick and bedridden.
I was listening to FM's Rumours and decided to take a solid attempt at learning the song. I simply looked up a cover on some guy playing it on YouTube, figured out the tuning (CGDGBE, so awesome) and figured it out from there. It only took me about 10 minutes to get the patterns right(ish) and it was done. Signed it off the list.

Now, keep in mind that my version is hella-sloppy and I could have practiced for a week until it was pristine, but I was so excited to learn that I had to tell everyone.

Here it goes.

rollin'

we're playing again, tomorrow night, at El Mocambo. 11:30.
since the venue is across the street from our rehearsal space, nobody's driving.
therefore we're all partying for the first time.
having a license can be a burden.

golden boy

I may be late on this viral internet story, but I'm going to share it anyway. This is the story of Ted Williams - a man that was homeless up until being shared around the world via internet for his incredible "golden" voice.

I thought of just continuing through my day upon finding this, but found it too inspiring and important to simply cast aside. It simply goes to show that talent and imagination can still be found in today's bland world of gadgetry.

He now owns a house in Cleveland and is a broadcaster for the Cleveland Cavaliers. Watch the video below. I promise it will impress.

King Shit

For a while now I've been tampering with the idea of scoring. Not scoring chicks. Scoring films. I'll blame it on the combination of my most recent university elective "Music and Film", as well as the Pianomation project. The course has given me a lot of insight as to the purpose of music in films, as well as the multitude of ways and styles the music can affect the viewer.
Its actually come to the point where I might begin to offer my services to film students seeking unique original scores.

Now, I'm not saying I'm King Shit when it comes to making music. I've had no formal training on any of the instruments I know how to play (except the Chinese dizi flute, which I can actually read music for as well). My familiarity with drums, bass, guitars, piano, percussion etc. are all bi-products of years tinkering (I'll call it tinkering for the sake of not saying "rigorous practice"). I will most often pick up an instrument and play until I'm satisfied with something I've done. Does this lack of training hinder me from my ambitions? No. Does the fact that I will probably never willingly seek lessons make me lose sleep? Not at all. You would be interested to hear how many of your beloved musicians have no idea how to read music, such as Billy Joel, Phil Collins and famed composer Danny Elfman. None of them have a clue, and that's fine by them.

Now, I'm not saying I'm King Shit when it comes to making music, but by fuck do I love making it. I'm going to risk sounding like an idiot when I say making music is one incredible experience. Seeing as the options are limitless, it's just you versus your instruments. The number of possibilities for harmonies, arrangements, instrumentations, timbres, placement, rhythm, etc. are sitting there waiting for you. It's seriously amusing, and I wish for you all to experience it one day.
I remember my first experience scoring a film. A friend made a silent spaghetti western in his apartment and asked me to provide an impromptu soundtrack. Using a dictaphone, an acoustic guitar, and a jar full of peppercorns, we crafted a soundtrack in about an hours time. The finished product was as satisfying to me as pulling a perfectly exposed print from a developer tray. There's something about seeing a completed piece that just gives you the willies.
I'm fairly new to this idea, and I'm sure my first few attempts would be the audible depiction of a child's first steps, but it scratches me where I itch.
Who knows for sure though. Like I've said before: I could probably compile a list of more than 30 artistic endeavors that have never transpired due to time and money.

somebody give us some moneeeeyyy

It's simple: Canadian cinema has no money.

I'm pretty sure the biggest budget film of all time is still, get this, Porky's.

While aching and groaning in sickness, one of my favorite activities is to sit on the Apple site and watch movie trailers for about two hours. It's fun, and I know a lot who do the same thing.

However, I went back a few pages and noticed a trailer for a film called Bull that was originally posted over the summer. I'm almost certain this is the only Canadian film currently on the Apple Trailers website. And boy is it a sad one. After watching the trailer with a bit of neglect, I decided to share it with the rest of you just to exemplify how shitty the movie looks, which really doesn't have much to do with the cast or crew. It just looks terrible.

We see some garbage first-generation HD footage, some crappy sets, all the go-to Canadian actors (half of them have shows on CTV), terrible dialogue and even worse production value. But in actual fact, this all really just comes down to money - because our film industry has none.

Bull - The Trailer from Bull - The Movie on Vimeo.

Also, if you do decide to visit the films website for whatever reason, you'll notice the "Now Available on DVD" post-it in the lower corner, while it's still being advertised as a trailer. Ouch.

wet hair

Alright folks, here goes nothing. This marks the last time I'll sit in my condo for the next month. I look at my bed, say a few nice things to it, and then part. I look at my shower and all it's glory, say a few nice things to it, and then part. I look at my fully functional kitchen, cry a bit, and then part.

If you've ever camped, traveled for an extended period, or performed a series of shows over a short period of time, you know that what I'm doing is completely necessary.

As a pack my things, my laptop is running on full tilt as I upload nearly every album I own onto it for the road. It's funny, because this is exactly what happened when I left for New Zealand a few years back, and my parents almost left me at home because this double Jimi Hendrix album I had took forever to upload. Must have been those lengthy solos.

Packing for a months time is a serious challenge. You realize how large your wardrobe is (mine is currently massive), and you can only pack really generic things. The key word is "versatility". Because you can't just throw in flashy pants or shirts that don't go with anything. But that's just me being a woman. You also need clothes that you know will either last a really long time, or won't make it past the first week. Some shirts are just bought to throw away.

When I'm gone, I really want to french kiss a french girl, but I have certain people to thank for that.

Either way, I have to leave now. Send me your address and you'll get a postcard. I promise.

I'll be thinking of you.

Andy.

i used to rule the world

This video is simply brilliant. I swiped it after seeing it pop up on several blogs in the past few days. Give it a watch...



I was immediately drawn to this video because these 4-chord progression issues present themselves every day when my band writes and records. It's amazing how liberating, and confining the writing process can be, especially with melodies, because you have to surrender yourself to the fact that everything has been done once. All the hooks, every guitar part, every drum beat - it's all coming from somewhere whether you thought of it or not.

With this day and age, you have to be really careful what you write and what it sounds like, because some people aren't too happy when someone jacks their tunes, even if it is to just make a buck off the big guys.

Open Apology - Lee's Palace

Hey friends,

As you may or may not have heard, last week I fell on my hand and managed to fractured and temporary misaligned my fifth metacarpal bone in my right hand (the one that went wee wee all the way home). This has disabled me from doing much of anything, including playing the drums. Believe me when I say I tried everything possible to get that hand to work, but the plaster cast I'm wearing allows no wrist flexibility and only the use of three fingers.

With great regret, we've been forced to cancel this Fridays show at Lee's Palace. We considered many other options, but felt this venue deserved a proper show for a proper crowd. I even considered playing the songs differently using a different grip, but this would strongly compromise the precision and execution of the songs. It takes a whole lot for us to cancel a show. In fact, I believe this our first cancellation. Either way, I'm personally sorry and can't wait to get back on the stage with the boys.
Who knows, maybe I'll end up like that kid who broke his arm in Rookie of the Year, but instead of throwing incredible fastballs, I'll be able to drum like Buddy Rich, sans the attitude.

Be well.

race to sleep

On any given day I couldn't care less about telling stories about dreams, or hearing about peoples dreams. It's never really interested me, and why should it? It never happened, and probably never will. Although some dreams are just hilarious, why should other people care about my or your subconscious? This is probably the same reason why I never read fiction novels. I crave knowledge, and although I have a very vivid imagination, I don't really put a lot of interest into things that will never occur. Is that lame? Maybe.

Well, today is not one of those days because I have two dreams I simply have to get off my chest.

The other night I dreamt that I was walking the streets with Bike. It was later in the evening and we were just out for a stroll. I noticed one woman really checking me out and following us. This woman looked exactly like Jen from Hells Kitchen.
Yes, that Jen. Except she was a TTC employee and on her name tag it read CLING. I have no idea what that means, but moving along. We talked and she was being really touchy and inappropriate. I threatened to call the TTC office and report her behavior, but she was persistent. We began walking quickly through some mall and she was running after us! I was honestly terrified. We thought we'd lost her in some backyard, until I got smoked in the head by a can of Five-Alive. It was CLING, once again.
The strangest part about this dream wasn't really about sex-hungry TTC employees, but rather citrus fruit. Every time we thought we'd outrun her, I was assaulted by a flying piece of citrus fruit. That is the jist of that dream.

Now, the next dream is more of a personal nightmare. Some very close friends, especially my band, know about this dream because it scares the shit out of me. I have it about once a month and it never gets any better. I dream that my drums slide away from me while performing in front of large groups of people.

Basically, try to imagine playing the drums on top of a sheet of ice and every time you hit something it slides further and further away from you. Not only this, but everything is at really strange heights. Cymbals will be nearly eight feet in the air and my snare drum will be five feet to the left. I never play my drum kit, and something terrible always happens. During last nights dream I just gave up during a performance and decided sing a solo version of Oh Come All Ye Faithful acapella, except with tonnes of delay on my vocals, which sounded terrible and nobody clapped.

I wish I could express how much I hate these dreams. The funny thing is, I've experienced things like this when playing in reality. I remember when opening for The Spades last year, my kick drum (the big one) slid around the stage to the point where I couldn't even produce sound from it because it wasn't attached to the pedal. I would have to pull this 50-pound beast back to me at every chance, even mid-song.
And that is that.

ain't i a sap

A few months back everyone in our band challenged each other to write a quick piano part to be recorded and put on our MySpace, under the Band Members category. Naturally, I wrote something ultra sappy in a key that I usually refer to as "black notes", meaning using nearly all the black keys on a piano. Very specific combination's of black keys sound like love, hate, and everything in between the two.
I have always been known to write dismal melodies on the piano, and I'm totally fine with that. I think I provide a bit of balance to a bands writing curve that usually revolves around fast pop hooks. Leave it to me to provide irregular chords, depressing progressions and slower tempos. This is probably drawn from my love for early George Winston.

come on everyone, lets see some smoke

For starters, I've finally finished making some adjustments on the photos I took for the 5x4 performance last month. I don't believe I've mentioned this performance on this blog before, but it was a stellar performance orchestrated by my two good friends Cara and Alicia. They approached me about photographing the event, to which I immediately agreed. We've worked together on a couple projects in the past with great success. The girls are lovely to work with and produce wonderful work.

5x4 was a performance piece that involved 20 performers interacting with 20 regular household items for over an hour. Each person was given a taped-off section, amongst a grid of other performers, to interact, personify and become involved with the item of their choice. Objects ranged from garbage cans, armchairs, mannequins, tables, books, to coat racks. Abstract soundscapes played and each person climbed, wrestled, lifted, and moved their object to it's within it's physical limits.

I was actually quite disappointed to hear that this would be a one-time performance. Each and every onlooker was fully engaged in this very physical performance. Although wildly entertaining and interesting, time is money and these spaces are not cheap to rent. At least the performance will live on through photographic proof.

Speaking of photography; this experience was actually a rare treat to capture from behind the lens. For a minute it almost felt like one of those silly tutorials that camera shows will put on where they'll have one or two well-lit models in a studio setting that fat old white guys will photograph to their hearts content, except on a much larger scale. The treat was that I had free range to photograph 20 individuals freely in a beautifully lit setting. I decided to avoid the distractions of flash photography, and went fully manual to avoid that "beep" when using auto-focus. I definitely did not want to be "that guy" who's clicking, flashing, and stepping on everyone throughout the entire performance.

The rest of the photos can be viewed on my flickr account at:

www.flickr.com/filmsnotdead