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.

bike bike bike

This video is just hilarious.
Not only does it hit on a somewhat personal level, but the entire inner-city bike culture.
Although this video seems to be geared (no pun) towards downtown bike messengers, anyone who's ridden on a bike at least once on a busy street can relate. Seeing as I ride my bike for usually an hour a day, I can humorously sympathize with the points made.

tree trunk progression

Last night I hosted a band meeting; one that I've wanted to do for some time now.
We're coming into our last leg of recording. Our producer, Mike Tompkins, is currently enjoying some much-needed rest in Mexico with his wife. Upon his arrival in less than a week, we'll be hitting the recording studio again for the final recording sessions on this album.

This fact scares the shit out of me.

Being a musician, and having been one for many years now, you begin to take very special care of how your music takes shape. Just as a parent would make sure their child was guided through all the proper steps, given the proper attention, and sent off into the world proudly, musicians are equally enamored with making music that properly represents their passion and vision for their music.

This fact excites the hell out of me.

Firstly, I'm no song writer. Never have been and never will be. I am far too critical of anything I write that even touches poetry, I have no gift for melody, and if I were to finish a song I would hate releasing it because I'd hate to hear people analyze it. So with this aside, I'll touch upon my true passion: the rest of it. The day I picked up a guitar I knew that the instrument alone would never be enough. When I sat on my bed strumming my first chords, I heard possibility. It was like a canal had just been built in my brain that had the ability to channel all of my creativity, vision, and passion. It was only when I picked up drums years later that things were coming full circle - I learned what rhythm was. Fundamentally, knowing these two aspects of music (melody and timing) opened up a valley of creative potential.

This fact brought on curiosity.

Yet, like anything, practice is necessary.
When I listen back to the first album Danny and I ever recorded, Fly Away, it sounds exactly like what it was: two teenage boys sitting in a room discovering a range of instruments, one at a time. If we were to re-work those songs now they would be infinitely different from their original sound. Yet this is the very thing that makes this progression special. I'm sure that if you were to look at the progressive career of a musician in terms of growth, it would look very similar to a tree trunk cross-section; some years were more progressive than others, yet it continues to grow and expand exponentially.

This fact influenced progress.

Now, staring down yet another album, we have more experience, more fantastically talented members, more songs, and more opportunity. Yes, we have all these things, but what do we do with them? Get to fucking work is what we do.

The entire purpose of the meeting I previously mentioned was to take a somewhat different approach to the recording process this time around. As was the case with the previous record, I would say that most of the songs were executed with a "face value" approach. By this I mean that we knew how to play these songs, and we played them just as they were (with maybe the exception of 2 songs). There's nothing wrong with that in actuality; the record turned out nicely. However, due to time restraints we weren't fully able to explore the songs sonically.

This fact makes my skin crawl.

I mentioned yesterday to the band that I was interested in over-recording this album. (p.s. drummers should never hold band meetings). By over-recording I mean that we should really strive for the "no-idea-is-a-bad-idea" approach. Instrumental tracks can be discarded as easily as they are recorded. What I am interested more in is what sounds can transpire from experimentation, because if you think about it, most great pop songs have one strange sonic aspect to them; something that differentiates it from the guitar/bass/drums formula.
I also mentioned that we should bring every instrument we own to the recording sessions. I believe that having extensive opportunities in front of you is far more advantageous to your practice than none at all (I've been trying to put an analogy here for an hour, but couldn't think of anything worthy of comparing).

Another thing I'm interested in, personally, is what to do with silence, if anything. Last night we were all sitting together around the old modern campfire (Danny's mac) listening to rough mix-downs of the record. During certain moments there would be dead silence in the middle of a song that would suit the track just perfectly. Other times we'd sit and think that silence wasn't even an option.
And that's just what do to with the silent parts. Think about how we are going to execute everything else. Thankfully (not luckily), our producer is exceedingly talented at what he does. The quality of the demos (not actual recordings) that he has given us so far almost surpass the quality of the last record already, and they haven't even been manipulated/balance/compressed electronically yet. His talent has obviously been recognized and he deserves every bit of it, so there are obviously things that are completely dependent on mixing that we just have to leave in his hands, which are made of gold, by the way.

This part will be continued...

The Find

Sometimes I just don't believe in things. More specific, I believe things will never happen. One of the great personal attributes I've held high over the years is my ability to practice reason, and very well. I'm not an idealist - I'm a realist. I know when things are so fantastical that even romanticizing certain ideas is a waste of my time. Don't get me wrong: I dream as much as the next person, but I know when to draw the line between "sure, that's possible" and "sure, that's a nice fantasy". Although this is the line in which my mind usually draws in the sand, sometimes I just cling to realities long enough for them to actually come true.

On the evening of December 21st, 2008, I was given a Christmas bonus at the establishment I worked at for the amount of one hundred dollars. At this point in my life I was really into amassing a musical instrument arsenal, which continues steadily to this day. I wanted everything that challenged everything capable of sonic altercations (mainly directed towards electric guitar playing). At the time I was obsessed with something called an Ebow, which is an abbreviation of "electronic bow", "electric bow" or "energy bow". This device, about half the size of a can of tuna (wow, what a shit example), is a hand-held wireless device that creates electromagnetic fields of energy that, once placed over a guitar string, cause it to vibrate, simulating the sound of a stringed instrument. Trust me when I say I was obsessed. The bonus went to this, plus a bit extra. I ran home to test it out (on an acoustic guitar, strangely enough) and it was everything I'd dreamed of.

Here is where this story begins to take shape. My parents' marriage was in it's final state of disrepair around this time. This being the case, the summer I moved home from Toronto would be my last in that house, as we were about to sell the house that following fall season. I'm not sure how it happened, but I must have put the Ebow in a drawer and forgot about it towards the end of the summer, because it would be the last time I ever saw it.

I can't explain the breakneck speed needed to move out of that house. Towards the end of the move, we'd given ourselves such little time to pack that everything, and I mean everything, was rammed at full speed into boxes, wrapping paper, bins, jars, bags etc. (productive procrastination: a genetic guarentee to most Schmidt family members). The worst part is that everything was shoved somewhere, meaning that it could be in one of four houses, in one of three cities, in one of 200 boxes. Needle-in-a-hay-stack-type-shit.

There were only a few items I've missed over the years: a vintage Kentucky Derby t-shirt, some MiniDV tapes, some photographs, drawings, and that Ebow. My friend Danny knows this way too well. Wherever I'd go; whether back home, my cottage, any family members house - I'd always say, half-jokingly "Oh, and while I'm there I'll check for that Ebow". I'm not kidding when I say I'd say this almost every time, for several years. It would usually be followed by a very mutual sigh between us, and the realization that this thing would never be found.

I've already mention that I'm a realist, which doesn't rule out everything. One of my favorite lines that I've used over the years, which frustratingly makes sense to many, is "I didn't lose it. I just haven't found it yet". Losing something is accepting that you've lost it. When you know something is within your grasp, there is no reason to accept defeat. That's like saying just because you got sunburned you're going to look like a fucking lobster for the rest of your life. It's not like it doesn't exist anymore (philosophy majors, fuck off on that one). So with this in mind, I never stopped looking for it. Everywhere I thought it could possibly be, I looked through in a process of elimination. Imagine Indiana Jones trying to find the Arc of the Covenant in that warehouse. Kind of like that.

I came home yesterday to my moms house, mainly to work on school-related projects in the privacy of my own thoughts and not have to worry about anything related to being in Toronto. As usual, I grabbed about six beers and a few cassettes and descended into the basement to untangle the mess of cardboard, clothes, lego, books and Christmas decorations. Things were going as planned: I pulled a few photos from my past, a few books, some paint brushes, a couple slides, reels of Super 8 film and select skateboarding magazines. Then, there it was.

Laundry Room Drawers was the name of the box. I can understand why I've never touched this box. For starters, it was under some box called Moms Books, which is a fucking landfill of 40-year-old woman literature. Kind of like if Oprah's book club needed an archivist. After sorting through this and downing an entire can of Guiness, I undertook the triple-decker sandwich of needles, thread and newsprint that was the next box.

Scraping towards the bottom, I found it. The object I'd been looking for all these years was staring me right in the face. It had to be the equivalent to seeing an old lover for the first time in years, and you're both single, and outrageously horny. The unflattering grey sheen covering this relatively insignificant piece of my history was staring me in the face, and everything I believe in was rekindled. The look on my face was priceless. I know this because I took a picture of myself holding the Ebow and sent it to Danny. He thought it was a stapler.

I didn't write this for you, the reader. I wrote it so I'd remember this moment. However, you can take this story with you as a reminder that hope and belief, no matter how unattainable or distant, is very possible. I should know - I just did it.

If this overly-positive article could visually personify itself, it would look like Bambi eating an ice cream cone while Thumper sings Hallelujah.

dode

I found this photo a few weeks back while sorting through my moms photo collection. Others would call it a heap, but I'll call it a collection. The photo is of my grandmother in her youth with a friend (the one in white). I estimated the photo was taken sometime in the mid-1950's

When I found it there was considerable damage. I included the original just to show how much work had to be done. That, and I just have a thing for photo restoration. There's something annoyingly challenging but rewarding about it. Anyway I thought it was a classy photo and thought I'd share.

Also, after applying a spray effect to her face in Photoshop, I noticed something eerie:

Ummmm, what the....? Is that me? Think about it.

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.

a whole new world

this may be one of the only really funny things I ever do, and I'm cool with that.

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.

Happy New Year from the Schmidt Kids

Watch the magic as I, once again, trick my sister into thinking we're taking a photo - in video mode. I've watched it almost 100 times I think.
May the new year bring happiness and success to you all.
Cheers!

"commanding presence"

This post concerns itself with one building: the Aura Condominium currently being built in College Park, downtown Toronto. This building boasts itself for being the largest residential condominium in the country. Seeing as I lived in that neighborhood for three consecutive years, with some affection I might add, I feel somewhat responsible for voicing some concerns about this massive undertaking.

First, I will list my credentials. I lived in The Liberties, Tower III for three years. I know every inside and out to that neighborhood; from the secret passages underneath the Delta Chelsea, to the rooftop access to the LuCliffe building, many of the local business owners and government workers by name, the wind speeds of Bay street, the angle the sun passes during the winter months, the ridiculous service charge at the ATM machine in the convenience store, the timing of the advanced green lights on Gerard street, and that weird little shack covered in pigeon shit that houses a zamboni. I know it all. I have an affinity for College Park in general, and although the two parking lots that once occupied the corner of Yonge and Gerard may not have been the best use of space, building a 75 storey tower certainly isn't any better.

When discussing the problems with the Aura tower, it is important to mention where and what surrounds the building.

Yonge Street, located just immediately East of the building is notorious, among many things, for being the longest street in the world. Littered along this street in this neighbouhood is a surplus of adult movie stores, chinese restaurants, low-end retail outfits and strip clubs for several blocks until you hit the tourist-eyesore that is Dundas Square. At the corner of Gerard, Yonge is four lanes wide, consistently halved by turning cars in either lane and congested by massive amounts of commuters and tourists.

Gerard Street, located just South, is the site of the main entrance/exit to the Aura tower. Conversely to Yonge, Gerard is only two lanes wide with sidewalks on either side (one belonging mainly to the Delta Chelsea's main street entrance, which also includes an airport shuttle that arrives every 30 minutes). Aside from condominiums, Gerard is currently occupied by cabs, drivers frustrated with one-way streets, and emergency vehicles.


My main concern is the utter congestion of College Park. The building is barely completed and the majority of the 75-story tower has been sold (which is standard for building practices). If you consider that the building will be almost completely filled by the time of completion, we're looking at at least two thousand people, if not more, additional occupants to the area. Although the building praises itself for being connected to the PATH system (you still have to take a $3 subway one stop to get there), it is only presumable that at least half of the towers occupants will have vehicles.
After seeing the day-to-day construction of Aura's parking facilities, which can be seen here, it is obvious that the parking accommodations are completely massive, appearing to exceed 7 storey's below ground.

Remember when I mention the two lane's of Gerard street? Now throw the extra cars into the equation.

Today, turning on to Gerard is an annoyance in itself. Confused travellers heading into the Delta are slow, cabs consistently pull over sporatically, people J-walk, and there are emergency vehicles constantly (Toronto General's ER is one block away). Did I forget to mention there are also two bike lanes? The utter mess that I can only forsee will be chatostrophic. The morning and evening rushes will be straight hell and will only create more problems for the emergency vehicles. The corner of Yonge and Gerard will be permanently jammed from all the "don't-give-a-shit-I'm-walking-here" locals. Bay street will be one permanent horn sound, and University will no doubt be congested by the turning South cars heading towards the QEW.

That's just cars.

Bringing those thousands of people back into the equation, let's talk about College Park the building. For those of us who've experienced the 180,000 square foot shopping centre more than once, it's easy to classify the centre as feverish. Seeing as the building houses a 24-hour Metro grocery store, as well as College subway station, the foot traffic alone is enough to peeve any pedestrian. Adding thousands to that equation brings Advil commercials to mind. For starters, the Metro is already insane. I honestly believe that not only will the store itself not be able to contain the demand of the customers, but will not be able to supply the amount of produce needed to feed that many urbanites. Shit, they already run out of red peppers as it is. The only real times to get any quality, uninterrupted shopping done is between the hours of 12a.m.-5a.m., and even then the place is not empty.
Upstairs, the Winners will flood and the Tim Hortons line will extend only further out the door, at all hours of the day. The College subway station will bottleneck, as it is one of the smallest stations situated in the downtown core, and one of the most utilized.

Although the building, once completed, will be an urban architectural marvel, I believe the ripple effect it will have on that neighborhood will be more detrimental than the planners originally foresaw in terms of transportation, supply and demand, and functionality. I didn't need to write this article, because the fact of the matter is I'll probably never live in that area again. But given my realtionship with the neighborhoud, as well as my close friends that still live and work there that will have their lifestyles ultimately altered (as well as their view), I felt it necessary to voice my detest for the entire project, which I have from day one.

For more information, you can visit the Aura website.