Archive for September, 2009

Greatest Hits?

wilsey by Jason Wilson

So it has come to this. The Foo Fighters are releasing a greatest hits album. In general, I have a disdain for greatest hits records. More often than not, all it is is a re-packaging of the singles heard round the world a million times over. It seems superfluous to the hardcore fan of the band as we likely have all their records anyway. Compilation records of a band rarely work unless they are a live album/dvd.

In this case fans will probably be swayed into buying it anyway because the catch is that two new songs will be released along with it. Wheels and Word Forward, the former will soon have a video. So the die hards like me will probably shell out the $20 for the deluxe edition just to make the purchase worthwhile (it comes with a DVD of live video).

To give you a little context. In 1997, I was in the eighth grade. Until that time my exposure to music was very limited. I had probably heard of Led Zeppelin and also heard them but to bring a song to the artist would be impossible at that time. Plus I had decided I would be a country music fan and to my current disdain I listened to Alan Jackson and Shania Twain (should have been listening to Michael Jackson while reading Mark Twain…I’m reaching a bit here).

Around this time, certain friends of mine decided to have an intervention. They forced me to sit down and listen to what they called “alternative rock”. They played Green Day’s Dookie and No Doubt’s Tragic Kingdom. I liked them both after repeated listens in what is not quite a atmosphere from the classical conditioning sequence from A Clockwork Orange but it was close. Tragic Kingdom struck a chord specifically (though I thought what was soon to become their big hit single, Don’t Speak was the weakest track) due to the horns and poppy ska beat. To this day I love a good horn section. On a side note, check out The World Inferno Friendship Society.

While I had realized country music (or at least the pap of the country music world I was listening to) was not as good as I had once figured, I still hadn’t attached myself to a band in the rock world. I had missed the grunge movement by a few years but I was just on time to catch the Foo Fighters’ second album, The Colour and the Shape. Hanging out at my friend’s house one afternoon watching MuchMusic (when Bill Welychka was on…ah the good ole days) the video for Monkey Wrench came on and I was hooked. The song is raw and loud but with an incredibly catchy melody. It blended what I loved about ska with the hard rock sensibilities my friends were trying to force feed into me. The video was an odd and funny dreamlike vision about fighting with yourself and being your own worst enemy (or at least that’s what I took from it).

“They did that video Footos, right?” I asked my friend before I knew the name of that song to be Big Me.

“Yeah, they’re alright I guess,” he said.

It’s been that way for most of the 12 years since. I became a massive Foo Fighters fan while my friends all seemed rather apathetic. One friend loved the self titled record and has abhorred everything since. Another friend was on board for The Colour and the Shape and hasn’t cared since. A third friend adored There is Nothing Left to Lose and has been a fairly interested fan since, but not like me. Sure there are likely bigger Foo fans out there who have traveled long distance hundreds of times to see them (I’ve only seem them twice) but from my rinky dink small town I would bet dollars to donuts that I am the biggest fan of that band.

That said, a greatest hits record is not made for the hardcore fan. It’s made for the casual fan looking for all the hits they’ve already heard but with none of the effort it takes to get to know each album. That’s fine. In some cases it might even open the door to someone checking out the other lesser known tracks. It’s unlikely though as I have never once bought a CCR record since I acquired their Chronicle record.

On September 21, Rolling Stone’s website had an article (linked at the top) with the announcement of the tracklisting.

“All My Life”
“Best Of You”
“Everlong”
“The Pretender”
“My Hero”
“Learn To Fly”
“Times Like These”
“Monkeywrench”
“Big Me”
“Breakout”
“Long Road To Ruin”
“This is a Call”
“Skin and Bones”
“Wheels”
“Word Forward”
“Everlong (acoustic)”

Yep. Two versions of Everlong and not one of I’ll Stick Around, Alone and Easy Target, Hey Johnny Park, Stacked Actors, etc. Just once I think it’d be nice to see a greatest hits include some of the non-single favourites just to give it a little extra flavour or even an opportunity to surprise the casual fan who buys these cash grabs. I’d much rather have a new album but hey, two songs ain’t bad. For the hardcore fan it’s a disappointment, to the casual it probably doesn’t even register on the radar. At least Primus is re-releasing Frizzle Fry on vinyl in November, that might help me forget this. Okay, it’s not like this is a tragedy or anything, just a disappointment considering the Foo Fighters turned me into a rock and roll fan, it just seems cheap to me.

Internet versus Television: A Case For Wipeout

jenn a column by Jenn Harrison

The show Wipeout really is just like the internet, but on TV. Every contestant is trying to do something crazier and crazier in order to get talked about, while the other half is desperately showcasing talents in an effort to be “discovered”. So far, I have seen a background singer, a rapping preacher, a woman telling (in earnest) how she was kidnapped by aliens, and a man who made incredible balloon animals. Then, just as I was thinking that this was getting ridiculous and staged, a ‘real’ person showed up: a blonde, haggard, semi-athletic mid-twenties woman, who will not show any dance moves and will be using the $50,000 to “put aside for a house someday” and you realize shit – that is terrible. Thank God they screened these people beforehand, and put the ratio at 95% crazy and 5% athletic/desperate people actually using this show as a viable means of income.

Now, when the main goal is to get your 3 and-a-half minutes of fame, the participants often forget that actual physical challenges lay ahead. So far, I have seen 3 people quit in fear when shown the obstacle course. Suddenly, the game becomes one for those there to win; and those who are out for a good time, to have fun and to get seen. Instantly, I am rooting for the crazy grandfather or the “Balloon Pirate” over the girl who needs mortgage payments. This is fun. Rooting for real people who have just bared their hidden talent of booty shaking against dull, boring reality.

Wipeout is essentially MXC for North America. The formula is the same: two smarmy announcers who insert digs against the participants at will, the nicknames given to each person (SO much easier to remember ‘Balloon Pirate’ than the guy’s name) and the soul-baring interviews. Finally, my beloved show of college years has gotten a bigger budget. Actual muddy hillsides have been replaced with crisp, clean pools of water in pristine filming locations.

All of this money has ensured that, while hard before, these stunts are now insane. Obstacles are programmed much like roller coasters, radio controlled and designed to trip you up. This is Super Mario Land come to life, and it turns out you need to be pretty athletic to beat this game. “Mortgage Lady” might take this.

wipeout

This is American Gladiators meets America’s Funniest Home Videos. It is two shows in one: the actual physical competition, and the first half, where the pawns were rolled out; trying to get agents and contracts and we watched people baring their ridiculousness before succumbing to the pits of the ’sack launch’.

Wipeout is the epitome of regular joes that have beer guts and a dream, versus athletic, healthy, sensible people.

Besides all of this, the show is perfect for my new television attention span. No complicated story, plenty of drama, and one of the main reasons people gather around the Internet: clips of people getting hurt.

This show has everything! It’s a cross between comedy, action, suspense and sporting event. And it’s cheaper to produce than a show that hires actual writers and a regular cast. All for the measely sum of a $50,000 prize per episode, the audience gets heart-wrenching emotion, real people to root for, a sporting event and AMV/MXC-style hilarity. I remember when people wouldn’t watch any game show that didn’t give away at least a million dollars. No wonder we’re losing scripted television.

Wipeout will become the new standard by which all future game shows trying to take people away from the Internet will be based. And rightly so.

War of Roses

bendingle a short story by Benedict Dingle

The French Basque city of Biarritz, April 14th 2009

Brian, a young Canadian teaching assistant, awakes at 8am Monday morning. He grudgingly removes his duvet covering and lumbers into the shower. Class is supposed to start at 8:10am, but if this week resembles last week at all he will sit alone in his closet sized classroom waiting for the fifteen minute mark. Then he will take attendance, zero pupils, and ride downtown for a much needed espresso and croissant. Croissants in France are on another level in comparison to their North American counterparts. In Canada they’re a delicious breakfast alternative to toast. The French versions melt in the mouth as one ravages, devours, and requests another.

He showers, brushes his teeth, grabs grey boxers and white socks, chooses his brown Mont St. Michel t-shirt he bought at the abbey, his brand new Lacoste tuque and a pair of good old fashion North American blue jeans. He puts it all together and walks out the door to his apartment. He lives at the school. It’s not the best, but it’s awesome. He lives with many of his students, but he gets free suppers.

On his short walk across the yard to the school he reflects on the weekend. Possibly the best weekend of his life. Friday night he took Anaïs to the waterfront for ice cream at Bernier’s. Without question, Bernier makes the best ice cream in the world. From the ice cream parlour they move to the beach. He uncorked a Bordeaux Rosé. He admitted it wasn’t the best choice for a date, but since arriving in France, rosé has become his favourite wine. Pink filled glasses in hand they listened to the gypsies strangle their guitars and summon dragon sand sculptures. They kissed the tide away. She gently pushed him back to stare into his eyes.

We both had green eyes, he thought aloud.

She cocked her head like a curious puppy, and whispered French sweet-nothings in his ear. He didn’t understand their meaning. He rode home on his bicycle. She sat side saddle on the back with her arms wrapped around his waist. Barely opening the door, tumbling onto the bed, they tore each other open and morning came.

This morning he rounds the gate, the students are all outside. The strike must still be on. A band begins to set up, again. They had been playing all last week, and for fun they set up last Saturday afternoon for a small outdoor concert. Nobody came, but it didn’t seem to upset them. They played all afternoon.

He makes his way to the front gate. Last week he had jumped it every morning to get past the makeshift blockade. This week it appears someone has poured shampoo all over the top. Wrapping his scarf around his hand, he reaches for the arc and leaps over. A couple of groans and whistles follow. He turns, winks and continues into the school. The kids cheer. He is a rock star here.

As he enters the school, staircase on the right, his mind sends him back in time. Yesterday afternoon he took Camille to a secret place he had found on a bike ride with the other language assistants in Biarritz. He had gone to the market that morning to prepare a picnic lunch: a fresh baguette, a chunk of cheese he’d never heard of from the north, an Alsace white wine and strawberries. She had brought a kite to play in the blustery afternoon breeze. They biked across town, onto the bike path along the highway and finally up a hill. At the top of the hill Brian veered toward a small wooded area, where there was the faintest of paths etched into the field. Down the path and through a wood, they came upon a cliff face overlooking eternity.

Straight across the ocean there, he said, is Halifax, where I come from.

They ate, she willed the kite into the air and he recited her Shakespeare in English. It was the first time she had ever heard Romeo’s discovery of Juliet in its original language. She confessed she hadn’t understood a word, but the beauty of the sounds had broken the boundary. Before rolling on top of him, she tied the kite’s line around his ankle. She embraced him. He fought his way to the top, and briefly scanned their surroundings for voyeurs. I don’t care, she said, let them watch. The kite danced on the breeze.

Flying up the stairs, Brian thought there was something peculiar about the crowd outside today. There were some school staff encircling an area of the courtyard. As he enters the teachers lounge Brian notices a group of men are standing near the windows in heated debate. His ears fail him as the men expel their consonances and vowels faster than he could form their meanings. A few women were crying near the photocopier. Old Faithful, he christened it, for it never worked more than one consecutive day at a time.

Making his way to the coffee machine, his handler rushes up to him. Her name is Danielle Bouchard. She was the one who had contacted him back in July to arrange travel and a pick up time at the train station. She was in charge of his scheduling and class preparation. Her friendship, her helpfulness, and her love of teaching has meant the world to him since his arrival.

Have you heard what transpired, she asks in her adorable Brit English dialect. That was the funny thing about teaching English in France; they consumed it through a British ear.

Not a word, he replies.

There has been an attack at the entrance of the school this morning, she said bluntly. Two girls were apparently arguing in the crowd of pupils, and then one of the girls struck the other with something. The victim is at the hospital right now, and the other is in the Proviseur’s office now explaining herself.

Horrified though he was about the incident, Brian could not help but smile a little on his way to his classroom. Up until now the Proviseur had been utterly useless, especially since the blockades started. On the first day of the student strike, the Proviseur had asked the teachers what they were going to do about it. The teachers unanimously replied by taking the day off. After that he didn’t leave his office for a week.

Brian didn’t even have wait the fifteen minutes. None of his pupils were in the hallway waiting for him. Wanting to return to the teacher’s lounge as quickly as possible, Brian quickly scribbled down on his attendance sheet, Personne!, and walked back to the tragedy. He was hungry to know more.

Upon re-entering the lounge, Brian saw that the Proviseur had already arrived. He had taken a position by the window. As the teachers gathered around, he turned, dragged his hands through his hair and addressed the room.

I have just finished speaking with the girl from this mornings incident, he said.

Danielle whispered the young man the translation. The Proviseur’s eyes never left the floor as he continued.

She confessed she had started the argument with the victim over a boy they both were infatuated with. She said she had found out about them Sunday and had intended all along to attack the victim. She struck the girl with a hammer she brought from home. She struck her several times before someone had restrained her.

No one moved. No one uttered a sound. No gasps, no cursing, no need for any sound of disbelief. The Proviseur continued, the girl I questioned was Anaïs Menon, and I have just received word that Camille Boulanger has been declared dead at the hospital.

The young man, weighed down with horror, fell to his knees. As a group of his colleagues formed a circle around him, he grabbed his stomach, opened his mouth and his guilt poured out. His time in France had reached its end.

“Craigness!” Episode #3: Urban Myths and Legends

In episode 3, Craig teams up with Argyle Fine Arts and the Atlantic Film Festival to bring you one big party with one big theme: Urban Myths and Legends.
now, here’s….. CRAIGNESS!!!!!!

Pearl Jam – Backspacer

pearl_jam_backspaceran attempted review by Isaac Thompson

“…Speaking as a child of the 90’s” – Vedder

Before I dive into my review, I feel I should include a disclaimer: I am a die-hard Pearl Jam fan. They are my #1, all time favourite band. Every note of every Pearl Jam album is sacred to me and therefore this review will be as biased as an Aaron Spelling casting call. I love Pearl Jam and I love this album. So prepare yourself for the Seattle Stroke-job of the century.

Another side note: Again, I am extremely biased on the subject, but I’ve noticed that most reviewers are routinely unfair to Pearl Jam, brushing the band off as has-beens. It’s my estimation that those reviewers don’t know what the hell they’re talking about. It can be frustrating seeing someone slag your favourite band when they obviously don’t know the music nearly as well as you do. How can they dismiss something they know so little about? It’s kind of like how people who don’t listen to punk music say it all sounds the same. If you are a punk fan, I don’t need to tell you that all punk music does not sound the same and those people don’t know what they’re talking about. Love for a band is a personal thing and you can’t find it in a press kit. When reviewers make asinine comments about Pearl Jam, such as “they’re just repeating themselves.” I shake my head. Are they listening to the same band I am? They certainly aren’t listening as closely as me and the rest of Pearl Jam’s loyal cult. I feel it’s my duty as a fan to write a review for the album that doesn’t just make lame jabs at Eddie Vedder’s earnestness (as if it were a bad thing) or blame them for spawning every crappy band that’s dominated rock radio since (Creed, Nickelback, Theory of a Dead Man, Default, Staind, Three Doors Down, etc..). That’s like hating Steven Spielberg because of his influence on Michael Bay. Just because someone decides to rip off the obvious, superficially commercial elements of your art minus the soul doesn’t mean it’s your fault! And none of the johnny-come-lately-wannabes who are still trying to recreate Pearl Jam’s Ten can ever stop Pearl Jam from being awesome.

You wish you rocked as hard as this guy.

You wish you rocked as hard as this guy.

That being said, the reviews for Backspacer have been almost universally positive. And with good reason, the record kicks ass. The only review I’ve read for the album that I’d consider negative was on Pitchfork.com. They tore Backspacer a new one. This was most likely because Pearl Jam are not an ironic, hipster indie band consisting of like 15 skinny pretty boys from Montreal… I mean, seriously. Am I the only one who is bored with that shit? I’ve been sick of this ‘above it all’, ironically-moustachioed hipster fad since day one. I will be celebrating heavily when sincerity and passion are regarded as positive things in rock music. (suck it, Pitchfork!)

The reasons Pearl Jam are my favourite band are too numerous to mention, but here’s a short rundown of my love affair: I discovered them during the Vitalogy era when I was knee high to one of those bugs that hops around in the grass. The closest thing I’ve had to a religious experience was seeing Pearl Jam live during the Riot Act tour. A friend who was working behind the scenes at that show nabbed Mike McCready’s guitar pick for me. I cherish it like the holy grail. I’ve spent countless hours as a child, teenager and adult worshiping at the Alter of Pearl.

Me offering my most sincere form of flattery to Eddie Vedder. (photo by the rockin' Tiffany Naugler)

Me offering my most sincere form of flattery to Eddie Vedder. (photo by the rockin' Tiffany Naugler)

The band has my loyalty because they’ve earned it. They’ve never let me down, I’ve never felt like they were phoning it in, and they always try something different. They are legendary for going against the grain (not shooting videos, touring sans ticket-master, accepting awards with a simple “This is meaningless”, etc.) even though when they first came out they were accused (unfairly, IMHO) of being Nirvana bandwagon-jumpers.

Backspacer continues Pearl Jam’s tradition of expanding their sound while staying true to what fans love about them. Everything is in place. Eddie’s vocals sound as unhinged as ever, yet more controlled. Matt Cameron is a goddamn force of nature on the drums. Jeff Ament’s bass lines are much more traditional sounding and it’s interesting to hear. The buzz-saw guitar attack provided by Stone Gossard and Mike McCready is still present, as are the tender ballads. But this time they’ve made good on a lot of influences they’ve only touched on in the past. There are more nods to classic punk rock on this one than any of their previous albums. They even touch on 80’s new wave with some of the tracks, and for once I have to agree with the reviewers’ consensus and say this is the most fun Pearl Jam album of all time.

The Artwork to the album is fantastic, although if you’ve been following the band all these years you know that’s par for the course. Backspacer’s artwork was done by Tom Tomorrow who draws the comic strip “The Modern World”. He does a great job and his cartoonish style is a visual cue for the type of sounds you’ll hear when you press play.

pearl_jam_pearl_jam_backspacer_australian_tour_v2

"Why don't you come up here and say that 'Last Kiss' sucks?"

“When something’s lost, I wanna fight to get it back again” – Vedder

Pearl Jam is a band who knows how to begin an album. With the exception of No Code, all of their albums begin with high energy, foot stomping, barn burners and Backspacer follows suit. The one, two, three punch of “Gonna See My Friend”, “Got Some”, and “the Fixer” grabbed me right away. They’re loud, fast and catchy tunes, but less in the aggressive style of Black Flag and more the adolescent jubilation of the Ramones. In fact, I declare”The Fixer” (the lead single off of the album) Pearl Jam’s catchiest lead single since Their first single, “Alive” back in 1991. ”The Fixer” is the one song I can’t get enough of at the moment, however I expect that to happen at one point or another with every track.

Another one of the album’s standout tracks is “Just Breathe”. It’s beautiful guitar-line and Vedder’s amazing vocals remind me of some of the early Pearl Jam ballads that sent millions of bic lighters waving gracefully in the air 18 years ago.  Eddie Vedder has told reporters it is the closest thing to a love song the band has ever recorded. I would argue they have written love songs, but most of them are about the love of getting into a car and just driving. This one flirts with typical love song territory while keeping equal portions of pessimism mixed in with the optimism. That’s one of the things I adore about the band; they aren’t the type to sugar coat things, but they aren’t wallowers either. They take the good they take the bad and there we have….the facts of life. Life isn’t a bowl of roses, often it sucks, it’s ugly and indifferent, but life isn’t all misery and pain as a lot of hard rock bands would have you believe. In truth it’s a little of both, and Pearl Jam has always been a band that understood that.

“Johnny Guitar” makes great use of the wah-wah pedal and the chorus makes me involuntarily pump my fist in the air (always a good sign). “Supersonic” is a fun tight pop-rock song in the vein of “Mankind” off of Pearl Jam’s 4th album No Code. It’s also got a touch of Born in the USA era Springsteen and includes the fantastic line “I’m not the paper, I’m more like the fold. Cut the crease and put the shit in the whole.”  The album’s closer ”The End” is another beautifully sparse ballad that rounds out the album nicely. At a breakneck 39 minutes, the album hardly ever stops to catch its breath and when the ballads roll around they really stand out.

This might not matter as much to casual fans, but this album marks the return of Brendan O’brian who produced all of Pearl Jam’s early albums and just about every other good 90’s hard rock album you can name. His work speaks for itself, His records always sound great. Go check your record collection, you’d be surprised how many amazing albums he is behind. He also plays a mean surf guitar.

I feel I’m glossing over the specifics of the album, probably because I am. Therein lies the problem with reviewing records, it’s not like watching a movie, where one time through you more or less get the jist of it. With a record you need to live and breathe it for months to truly appreciate it. I know I like this album a lot, I know it’ll never have the same effect on me that Ten, Vs, and Vitalogy had. That’s just impossible. But I don’t feel I know the album well enough yet to really get into the specifics. I’ve only listened to it 5 times, which some might say is enough to write a review, but I don’t think I’ll truly know how I feel about the record until, say, a year from now. That’s one of the joys of a band like Pearl Jam. There are references, inside stories, secret codes and hidden meanings in everything they touch.  It can keep a fan busy trying to decipher it all for years. Hell, they’ve kept me busy with it for almost two decades now.

Although it’s still growing on me, I’m still learning its idiosyncrasies, I know this is a great album. It’s a fun burst of high energy pop rock, and the band seems to be letting loose like never before. I give Backspacerthe same rating I give Pearl Jam’s last 8 albums: 10 out of 10, two thumbs up, 100%! I love this band, I wont even try and find fault in them, I’ll leave that up to Rollingstone, Blender, Spin and of course, Pitchfork.

Dear Asshole #1

untitled

by John McIntyre

ed. note: The following is a new column to run weekly…hopefully. John McIntyre channels rage and unloads on whatever is pissing him off at the moment. Enjoy!

Dear girl on the subway,

The amount of money you paid for the collagen in your lips could have probably fed an African village for months. Racist.

How does the baby Jesus let people like this exist?

How does the baby Jesus let people like this exist?

Dear drunk girls I occasionally overhear on the streetcar,

Stop saying “like” all the damn time. There hasn’t been a new Captain Planet for
over a decade and the 90s are long dead. Learn how to speak.

The tamest picture from a google image search for “drunk girls”

The tamest picture from a google image search for “drunk girls”

Dear Dee Snider,

You have no right to get that excited about bad hair metal that should have been pulled off the shleves years ago. Also, a Twisted Christmas is just carols written to the tune of We’re not gonna take it.

Rawr.

Rawr.

Dear Matt Groening,

Quit raping the cash cow and end the Goddamn Simpsons before it loses any more dignity. Season 11, that was a good time to bow out.

Now Willy can move in with the Simpsons! Man that’s whacky!

Now Willy can move in with the Simpsons! Man that’s whacky!

Dear Wachowski brothers,

Slo-mo goth nipple twist scene. Think you jumped the shark?

Eeeeeeeeeehhhh

Eeeeeeeeeehhhh

Dear Kanye West,

Thank you so much for being such a dick at the MTV movie awards, you have finally, once and for all, proven that you truly are a gay fish. Also, I love how popular you are with douchebag white frat boys, says a lot about the quality and originality of your music.

He and the girl from the subway would make a nice couple.

He and the girl from the subway would make a nice couple.

Dear Taylor Swift,

It’s a bullshit award for a bullshit video and you had nothing to do with the creative process except for being told where to stand and what to lipsync. You didn’t earn a goddamn thing so fuck you, fuck you sideways.

Boo-fucking-hoo.

Boo-fucking-hoo.

Dear MTV awards,

You are a terrible celebration of everything wrong with the music industry today, a ridiculous party for no-talent hacks who were elevated to stardom because they fit into some fat ass executive’s idea of what tweens want to listen to. You make a Daytime Emmy look like the Nobel Peace Prize.

Bull. Shit.

Bull. Shit.

Dear people who watch the MTV awards,

You suck. You really, really fucking suck.

Hey honey, let’s passively support the gradual decay of society.

Hey honey, let’s passively support the gradual decay of society.

Dear Toronto drivers,

Chill the fuck out!

In a perfect world.

In a perfect world.

Dear apples,

You’re always there for me. Yum.

Mmm-mmm *bellyrub*.

Mmm-mmm *bellyrub*.

This is what happened to the WWE

mattjones by Matt Jones

I don’t want to make it a thing on this site where every article spawns a series of debating articles. Nor is this meant to be an attack on Jennifer Harrison’s “What Happened to the WWE?” article.

From reading her article, I noticed two main things. First, at one time, Jennifer, you loved wrestling, and wish it was as good as you remembered. Me too. Second, you can tell from a lot of the minutia I mentioned in my comment that you haven’t been watching with any regularity recently. Fair enough. You haven’t enjoyed it, so why would you watch it? You’re not a sadist like I apparently am. I’ve watched the show hating it sometimes, wishing desperately that it would get better.

I’m not going to tell you that you’re wrong and the WWE is as good as it’s ever been. There’s a whole lot of gray area that’s subjective to each fan. But the title of the previous article ends with a question mark. I’ll do my best to answer that question.

The short answer is that wrestling changed, as it always has. Wrestling has been around more than a century and has been a lot of things. It’s been a carnival side-show attraction and it’s been on school lunchboxes. It’s held in smoky bars and rotary clubs as well as sold-out stadiums during international tours.

Since the “glory days” of the 1980’s, wrestling has gone through many of these changes, dictated by the circumstances of the business. Steroid and sex scandals in the early 90’s were combatted by the WWF through branding themselves as “family friendly” entertainment (and, let’s be honest, with their bright, colourful, cartoon character personas, the WWF wrestlers were already VERY family friendly).

doinktheclown

And why not? From the WWF’s point of view, being family-friendly had made them millions. Doing the same thing, perhaps more so with characters like Doink the Clown or Mantaur, probably seemed like a good plan.

However, that extra neutered approach, and the stench of the scandals, led to a downturn in business and World Championship Wrestling took advantage with a more mature approach to wrestling. The WWF owned the 12 and under crowd, so WCW established themselves as the king of teens and young adults — essentially, the fans from the glory days who had now grown up and weren’t interested in the kid-friendly WWF.

Once McMahon finally got himself acquitted of steroid charges, they began to fight back. Going after the same “young adult” demographic as WCW, the WWF went much further and created what’s now known as “the Attitude era.” While WCW presented more realistic storylines, they were bound by the standards and practices of their parent company Turner Broadcasting. The WWF could do whatever they wanted though. They were bound by the judgment of the USA Network, which aired Monday Night Raw, but as long as the controversy they created attracted more eyes and corresponding advertising dollars, USA couldn’t care less. So sex and violence were amped up, and every child’s hero Hulk Hogan (“say your prayers, train hard and eat your vitamins”) was replaced by beer–swilling anti-hero Stone Cold Steve Austin (“Austin 3:16 says I just whipped your ass!”). In 2001, when the WWF bought WCW and ECW, winning the Monday Night Wars, the company saw no reason to change the way they did business or promoted themselves.

stonecoldsteveaustindrinking

And why not? From the (now) WWE’s point of view, being edgy and outrageous had made them billions. Doing the same thing, perhaps more so with fiascos like Katie Vick or the Billy and Chuck wedding, probably seemed like a good plan.

Of course, history repeats itself, never more so than in the wrestling industry. Starting with the death of Eddie Guerrero, and then becoming firmly entrenched with the Chris Benoit tragedy two years later, the WWE is in damage control mode. The WWE is PG again and, in terms of presentation of storylines, bears more resemblance to the WWF of the 80’s than it does to any period in between. Edgy, sex based storylines are gone, as are most of the half-naked (or completely naked) women who used to be everywhere.

In the current WWE, kid friendly characters like Rey Mysterio and Hornswoggle are heavily featured. Bloodshed, for years all but expected in the main events, has disappeared. Women who used to simply represent T ‘n A (not to be confused with TNA) are now actually trained to wrestle.

That’s the interesting thing about wrestling though: if you asked 100 fans whether or not any of the changes detailed in the past several paragraphs is a good thing or a bad thing, you’d get wildly different answers. Wrestling “should be” different things to different people.

To a lot of fans who grew up in the 80’s, wrestling “should be” something you can watch with your entire family. Ask fans from the 60’s or 70’s though, and you might get a completely different answer. A lot of these fans were horrified with what wrestling became in the 80’s (when the WWF became synonymous with wrestling in the public perception). To many of them, wrestling was supposed to be about gritty, intense, athletic competition, not “kids stuff.” A lot of fans from the Attitude era feel the same way about the current PG WWE.

What is wrestling supposed to be? Everyone, from the lowliest fan to Vince McMahon himself would give you a different answer. Vince’s answer, if he’s honest with you, would probably be “whatever makes me the most money.” And that’s reflected by the in-ring product.

jerichomichaels

Five-star matches like Mr. Perfect vs. Bret Hart, Steamboat vs. Savage, Angle vs. Benoit or Jericho vs. Michaels aren’t where McMahon made his money. Or, more correctly, they aren’t where he made his biggest money. What made Vince McMahon a millionaire was the sales from Hulkster, Stone Cold, Rock and John Cena shirts, toys, video games and other ancillary merchandise. Wrestling doesn’t move merchandise- characters do. Carefully marketed and positioned characters.

The fans who actually care about wrestling matches- the fans like me and many others – we’re always going to be there (in McMahon’s view). We’ll be the ones to keep the company going with DVD sales, Pay Per View purchases and live event tickets (I went to one last weekend in Moncton, actually). But it was when the casual audience got involved that everything was gravy for Vince and the WWE. It doesn’t really matter to them if I place an order through WWEshop.com for a Finlay shirt and a Dean Malenko action figure. What matters is when having a “Hulkamania” or “Austin 3:16” shirt becomes the hot new thing and the casual, mainstream audience all have to have one.

That’s why Hulk Hogan is still one of the biggest, if not the biggest, names in WWE history despite wrestling virtually the same match for his entire career (punch, kick, bodyslam, big boot, leg drop). He could make people care about him, and made them want to cheer for him, and to buy his merchandise.

Believe it or not, Vince McMahon is a big fan of technical wrestling, according to a number of sources I’ve read. McMahon loves believable, credible technical workers like Bret Hart, Chris Benoit or Kurt Angle. But he’s smart enough to know which side his bread is buttered on. There will always be a place for technical wrestling in the WWE, but it’s not necessarily going to be the main event.

Is the quality of the actual wrestling as good as it was in the past? Like everything, it depends on who you ask. The pace is quicker these days, and there are more moves from the top rope. On the other hand, with less places to work, young wrestlers have less experience and are often less polished in their performances (especially in the “psychology” of a match). It’s give and take. But is one era conclusively better than another? Hardly.

wrestling_savage

Jennifer made reference to Bret Hart vs. Mr. Perfect from Summerslam 1991 as being one of those great, classic wrestling matches that you don’t see anymore. But does anyone remember the rest of Summerslam ‘91? Ted DiBiase and Virgil had a decent match. That’s about it. Everything else was pretty awful, and the main event of the show was a wedding.

Bret Hart vs. Mr. Perfect was a great match. It’s one of my favourites (though, I am partial to their 1993 King of the Ring bout). But matches like that stand out more than they would otherwise because they’re framed by crap like The Bushwhackers vs. The Natural Disasters. Wrestlers like Bret Hart, Mr. Perfect, Ted DiBiase, Jake Roberts, Randy Savage and Ricky Steamboat stood out because they were surrounded by guys like King Kong Bundy, George Steele, Giant Kamala, One Man Gang, Outback Jack and Hillbilly Jim.

And that’s not meant as a slight against Hillbilly Jim or King Kong Bundy or anyone else. There’s definitely a place for them. Though they weren’t, as Jim Ross might put it, “catch-as-catch-can stylists,” guys like Junk Yard Dog, George “The Animal” Steele and Hillbilly Jim were LOVED by fans. On the heel side, people paid good money to see King Kong Bundy, Kamala or One Man Gang get their ass kicked by Hulk Hogan.

Wrestling is, at its best, like the circus. There should be something for everybody. Just like the circus would get boring if it was nothing but lion tamers, wrestling would be boring if everybody wrestled like Bret Hart. If you don’t like the lion tamer, maybe you’d prefer the high-wire act (Randy Savage, Rey Mysterio), the clowns (George Steele, Santino Marella) or the side show (Andre, The Great Khali).

The problems with the WWE are, in many ways, the same problems as the earlier eras. John Cena is over-exposed today, as was Hulk Hogan in his day. Drug and steroid abuse is still an issue. There was, and still are, too many wrestlers to effectively showcase all of them with allotted TV/PPV time. New stars need to be cultivated; this used to require talent scouts, now it requires a development territory and trainers. There are still fans who tire of the emphasis on sketches and skits over actual wrestling. And as always, there are wrestlers at the top of the card who will do whatever it takes to stay there, regardless of what that means to the company. Either way, it’s all wrestling. It’s just adapted to what Vince McMahon thinks people want it to be at a given time. Whether that’s for better or for worse is up to you.

But remember that, as I said off the top, wrestling means different things to different people. No matter what our opinion is, there were many who think that our favorite era is an abomination. It’s telling that the WWF’s two biggest periods were the diametrically opposed squeaky-clean late 80’s and raunchy and edgy late 90’s. The WWE will no doubt go through many more changes as time goes on, so keep checking in. Who knows? In a few years, you might love it again.

Music Festivals are International Treasures

hiedi by Hiedi Irvine

I realized having not experienced any music festivals this summer, just how empty the months can feel without the sound of music. Luckily there are those festivals that aren’t limited to July and August, including the Treasure Island Music Festival in San Francisco, happening Oct. 17 and 18.

The line-up is impressive to say the least, with The Flaming Lips, MGMt, The Decemberists, Brazillian Girls, Beirut, Grizzly Bear, Passion Pit, DJ Rush, Girl Talk, among others are all set to take the stage.

Flaming Lips will be performing at the Treasure Island Music Festival in October.

Flaming Lips will be performing at the Treasure Island Music Festival in October.

Noisepop Industries is one of the companies behind the festival , partnered up with Another Planet, some of the largest promoters in the San Francisco area. Stacy Horne, events director for Noisepop Industries said the line-up is usually determined by a wish list and convenience for bands.

“I think what drives it the most is the availability and what artists are out and touring and whose around over the summer and because primarily we don’t do fly ins so it’s bands that make sense with their routing,” said Horne.

The festival is located off the Oakland Bay Bridge on Treasure Island and although organizers had originally dismissed the location for the festival, they re-visited the idea. In order to avoid the traffic of people going on and off the bridge, there’s a shuttle bus available.

“We have everyone park at AT& T Park and we provide free shuttle buses then to the island which picks up so it’s really quick and easy and the first year people were really kind of skeptical and worried to be away from their cars and now it’s kind of become an integral part of the festival, where people get out of their cars and their immediately on these really nice shuttle buses that are green buses and they’re really nice and they have TV’s on them and everything so it’s really nice and it’s sort of become part of the festival experience,” explained Horne.

There are about 10,000 people at the festival daily, and many listeners come from the Bay Area. Horne said the location is key to the experience.

“The spectacular location itself is just something that’s obviously very unique, it’s the only place where you can get an uninterrupted view of the San Francisco skyline, the bridges, Alcatraz, quite beautiful. We also have a 60 foot Ferris wheel and that also gives people a really unique beautiful view of the city and a lot of people in San Francisco and the Bay area haven’t been to Treasure Island. It was a military base so it wasn’t opened to the public until about ten years ago, it’s not really a place that people go, so a lot of people that are coming there, it’s right in their backyard and they’re just discovering it for the first time,” she explained.

Treasure Island's lineup for 2009.

Treasure Island's lineup for 2009.

Horne said what they pride themselves on is mainly the fact that despite the big acts they bring in, it’s managed to remain relatively small scale compared to some other festivals.

“The venue itself is one big open field, it’s got a really intimate feel to it, there’s really any lines or if there are they’re really short for the food and the porta potties and all the different things going on so you really don’t kind of feel like your whole day is spent waiting on lines, your time is spent enjoying the festival. Another thing is that we’ve got two stages and we have just one band playing at a time so you’re actually able to see every note of every band if you choose to do so so it’s not like a lot of festivals where you have to kind of make choices and sometimes they’re really sucky choices because there’s two bands that you want to see and you can’t possibly see them because the site is so big and they’re playing at the same time. And then of course the spectacular location itself is just something that’s obviously very unique, it’s the only place where you can get an uninterrupted view of the San Francisco skyline, the bridges, Alcatraz, quite beautiful. We also have a 60 foot ferris wheel and that also gives people a really unique beautiful view of the city and a lot of people in San Francisco and the Bay area haven’t been to Treasure Island. It was a military base so it wasn’t opened to the public until about ten years ago, it’s not really a place that people go so a lot of people that are coming there, it’s right in their backyard and they’re just discovering it for the first time,” she said.

It may be something special to Bay area residents, but there is a desire to see it expand and become something people from all over the world want to take in.

“It is definitely a great place to come for the weekend, we wouldn’t mind it becoming more of a destination festival and San Francisco weather at the time is perfect, and hotels in San Francisco are pretty inexpensive for a major city so it’s a pretty great place to come for the weekend, we’d love to have your audience come down,” said Horne.

For more information visit: www.treasureislandfestival.com

Here are just a few of the upcoming Festivals happening in Canada in the months to come:

Pop Montreal from Sept 30-October 4.

Celtic Colours International Festival in Cape Breton Oct. 9-17

Orillia Jazz and Blues Festival Oct. 17-19

Frostbite Music Festival in Whitehorse-February 13-15

Saskatoon Blues Festival from February 26 through March 1.

Canadian Music Week (awesome, like a festival!) in Toronto March 11-14

New Music West in Vancouver May 14-18

For an impressive line up, country by country, date by date check out : http://kadmusarts.com/countries/Canada.html

The Informant!

the-informant-poster1 a review by Jason Wilson

The Informant!
Directed by Steven Soderbergh
Screenplay by Scott Z. Burns adapted from the novel by Kurt Eichenwald
Starring Matt Damon, Scott Bakula, Melanie Lynskey, Joel McHale, Tony Hale.

From the beginning of The Informant, it is obvious that the film could have been told in the same vein as a Michael Crichton or John Grisham adaptation. It could have channelled Michael Mann’s masterpiece The Insider. Instead, Steven Soderbergh doesn’t play it straight; he twists the whistleblower story on its head.

Of course it’s mostly due to the main character Mark Whitacre (Damon). He seems like a nerdy, moral man with conviction about how he wants to lead his life. He gets wind of an extortion scheme against his company stemming from their illegal price fixing activity. Whitacre is an executive in a grain manufacturing company quickly climbing the corporate ladder when he suddenly becomes a federal mole. What a great guy!

It wouldn’t be much of a movie, based on truth or not, if that was the beginning and end of the story. Sure there’s conflict, but it would have been one way to a resolution. Luckily for the viewer, nothing is exactly as it seems, least of all Whitacre himself.
The ad campaign doesn’t exactly do the film justice. While much of The Informant is played for laughs – specifically Whitacre’s inner monologue – it carries with it a serious undertone. Whitacre is involved in a FBI investigation and while it bumbles along there are dire moments that send the film into the murky waters of drama and thriller. Mixing genre is a dicey choice because some audience members want to see one thing or another and they gear themselves to do so. If a viewer expects to see a comedic romp, he or she may not gel when the light hearted affair turns serious.

In this case, some may be put off that The Informant is not a full blown comedy like the trailers suggest. But it’s a breath of fresh air. Very little of the final act is revealed in the trailers. There is an element of surprise here. Unless you read the book you probably won’t know exactly where the film is going. Isn’t that worth some praise? If the film was garbage no. But The Informant is a well balanced movie with solid performances across the board.

informant

Damon’s Mark Whitacre is the goofiest face of all. Decked with a wild moustache, floppy hairdo and huge glasses he is unassuming and some might even believe an idiot savant. He acts so ridiculous and clueless throughout that it’s amazing this man could have reached top-tier employment within a mega-corporation. Then again…maybe it’s not so surprising. His manic idiocy (and compulsive lying) seemed like he belonged in last year’s espionage comedy by the Coen Brothers, Burn After Reading. He would have fit right in with the cast of dunces there. In this case, he is the odd character out, but it works.

Everyone else in the film is forced to play straight, as though they are in a serious dramatic film and it adds gravity to the outcome. While in Burn After Reading nothing was really at stake, people’s livelihoods are at risk here. The biggest surprise in casting the film was to see comedians Patton Oswalt, Paul F. Tompkins and Andy Daly playing serious roles while Damon is the one hamming it up.
While Whitacre’s inner monologue and his odd antics provide the bulk of the laughter, the musical score rounds it out. There’s a scene where the company is raided by the FBI and it could have been accompanied by a sweeping orchestral boom out of any courtroom thriller since The Firm or any other Grisham based movie. Instead Soderbergh uses a fluffy score reminiscent of the carnival-like theme to Curb Your Enthusiasm. It changes the mood entirely, just by swapping out one style of music for another.

The Informant is one big wink at the audience and by the end lives have crumbled and the whole truth seems further off than at the beginning. Some people will balk at the film when it’s over, claiming it not to be a satisfying conclusion. It’s dry and at times the comedy is abandoned entirely. Don’t let the trailers fool you, it’s not a mindless comedy but an intelligent thriller about corporate greed. It’s Michael Clayton with carnival music.

“Craigness!” Atlantic Film Festival Red Carpet Madness!

Who's the private dick who's a sex machine to all the chicks?

Who's the private dick who's a sex machine to all the chicks?

What better way to wind down a very “Craigness!” weekend?

Here I have all of Craig’s red carpet adventures. Although the opening weekend excitment is winding down, there’s still plenty of film festival left. If you’re in the Halifax area and are interested in checking out some of the fine films the festival features, head on over here for all the info you need.

Now lets get to the videos.

The first clip features Craig’s interviews with Bernard Robichaud (Cyris from the Trailer Park Boys) and Photographer Jule Malet-Veale. He also talks with Karen Sidhu, Chad Lindsay, and Andrew Bowers (Co-directors of the comedy short “The Lot”), getting the exclusive scoop on “the first brown James Bond” while St. John’s, Newfoundland’s The Novaks rock it out in the background.

In the second clip, Karren Smith talks about selling her film “Valhalla Rising” at the Toronto Film Festival and her mixed feelings regarding the “Trailer Boys”.

Clip the third takes us outside the event where Trailer Park Boys extra Adam Conrad tells Craig about getting cut from the film. Back inside, Craig talks to TPB’s Bubbles.

In the fourth and final clip, Craig chats with the film festival’s Executive Director, Gregor Ash. Finally Craig interviews Trailer Park Boy’s Cheeseburger loving star Randy, gets hassled by security and a very drunk Jim Lahey shares his views about marijuana and speedos.

“Craigness!” Episode #2 Starring the Trailer Park Boys!

As promised, here is the next installment of “Craigness!” featuring his interview with the Trailer Park Boys. brought to you by Haligonia.ca and Unfiltered Smoke. There’s more “Craigness!” red carpet madness to be seen, including an interview with a very drunk Jim Lahey. I will hopefully have all of that posted very soon, but for now, here’s Craig Layton VS. the Trailer Park Boys!

-IT

“Craigness!” Episode #1 (and some really, really big news.)

We’ve decided to unleash the first episode of “Craigness” a day early because of this exciting NEWS!:

Craig Layton has recently partnered with the fine folks over at www.haligonia.ca to have “CRAIGNESS!” cover the Atlantic Film Festival! His coverage will be featured right here at Unfiltered Smoke, including an exclusive interview with the TRAILER PARK BOYS for their new movie “Countdown to Liquor Day”! Stay tuned to Unfiltered Smoke in the coming days for Craig’s unique Film Festival Coverage and his guaranteed to be fantastic interview with the Trailer Park Boys.

I told you it was exciting news.

Craig’s guest on the first installment of “Craigness!” is Jule Malet-Veale, an amazingly talented and hardworking professional photographer. She was born in Oakville, Ontario, spending half of her life in Ontario and Vancouver Island, B.C.

She studied English literature with the goal of becoming a writer. Along the way she travelled parts of Europe, worked in various industries and discovered a passion for photography.

“Photography opened a new expressive world to me, It allowed me to say what I felt in one single Image. I could see the power that words and photography could have when united together.”

Now she lives in Halifax, N.S., where she takes pictures for a living, offering many years experience in publishing and communication arts, weddings, corporate events, portraiture and more. She has shot 12 covers for the Halifax News-zine The Coast and is the official photographer for the Atlantic Film Festival.

“With passion and uniqueness, I strive to capture the beauty of the moment. A moment that may have otherwise gone unnoticed.”

julemaletveale.blogspot.com

www.julemaletveale.com

The Crew of CRAIGNESS!
Exec Producer – Laura Nurse
Producer – Hank White
MUA- Vicki Martin
Location/Stills Photographer – Josh Boyter
DOP – Herb D’Entremont

Concealing Identity

thekatelindean Poetry and photography by The Katelin Dean

Katelin Dean is a journalist currently working in Woodstock, N.B. Though not originally from the town, she has made it home and is constantly inspired by her artist and musician friends around her. Through poetry and photography, she embraces her creative side at any chance she can and has decided to share her work with Unfiltered Smoke. Take it away Katelin!

moon mask

mesmerizing moon
is that a face i see
somberly searching
just like me

but once a month
you show yourself
you wear a mask
like everybody else

after the reveal
you retreat again
to a thin sliver
of what will become again

Summer Fling

mysteries of our meeting
barely a name exchanged
simply searching
masking you as someone else

your face falls from my mind
only a name remains
it was never real
you’ve found your life

i’ll try to live mine

no middle ground

memory masks
tales and truths

there is no middle
only triumph and despair

Train Bridge

Beautiful Bridge
What do you know
What have you seen
Boxcars to Bar fights
from mundane to obscene

Many have crossed
Few have stopped
Do you hear the laughter?
Do you feel the pain?
from your wide wood planks
to your latticework metal frame

You are hiding too
but an instrument
competing with the tides of change
you will remain

Smile Lines Hide the Pain

Smile Lines Hide the Pain

A Uniform and Dark Glasses Don't Define

A Uniform and Dark Glasses Don't Define

Craigness! Promo!

A couple of days ago I told you about the study in awesomeness that is “Craigness!”. Today I come bearing fruit. Here is the promo for the first episode of “Craigness!”. If you like art, mirth, and things that kick ass, I suggest you visit Unfiltered Smoke this Friday and check out the first episode.

Craig’s Guest is Professional Photographer Jule Malet-Veale who will be involved in the Atlantic Film Festival in Halifax. The festival starts Thursday Sept 17.

-IT

A Shortcut Through a Minefield

mikeromard A short story by Mike Romard

We were backstage having a couple of beers before our set when I heard something wrong. Jason, our former lead guitarist, was the opening act for this tour, and he was at the end of his set. I didn’t catch most of his intro to the last song – blah blah about something he’d started writing before he left the band. But when he started to play the opening chords, I knew it immediately.

A Shortcut Through The Minefield was our most popular song to date. It was getting plenty of radio play, and was spreading like the flu across the peer to peer networks. A few hours before the show I leaked our forthcoming album onto a couple of those same networks from the tour bus when we’d been parked at some Middle American mall, where I’d come across an open wi-fi connection called Want To Earn $14 The Hard Way?

So anyway, that sack of shit was playing our song, and I was pretty sure that he’d taken credit for it. Which isn’t entirely a lie on his part. We did base the song off of something we’d heard him screwing around with before he left. But that was only part of the chorus, and I wrote the damn words.

“Cory, what are you doing?” Eric, Jason’s replacement, asked me as I started walking towards the stage.

“I’m going out there.”

And I did. I walked onto the stage behind Jason, I sat at my kit and I started to drum along with him. I was pissed, but I didn’t want him to know. Not yet, anyway. I used to like Jason. He was a good guy, and he left the band on good terms. That’s why we were all cool with him coming on tour with us. So it was a total slap in the nuts for him to pull something like this.

He looked back when he heard my drums. There was worry in his eyes, but I smiled, and I started to sing along with him. He smiled too, and the rest of the band came out and sang with us. The audience got in on it too, and I could see a few cellphones and small video cameras were out, so chances were good that this would be online before we even came back to the stage for our set.

I couldn’t imagine a more perfect way to save face. This could’ve been a huge disaster. We could’ve come across as being weak, or as a bunch of whining shitheads if we’d lost our cool. But joining him? Showing that we were big enough not to let something stupid like that bother us? Our fans would just eat that up. The story would spread wherever the video was shared, and we’d come out on top.

After the song the audience went mental. The little son of a bitch thanked us for coming out, and we fist-bumped like it was no big deal.

When we went backstage, Jason turned to the band and said, “I’m glad you guys were cool with that. I wasn’t sure how you were going to react.”

“Fuck it man,” Jimmy, the bass player, said to him. “What’re we supposed to do? Just lose our shit at you?”

“Hey,” I said. “Maybe you should come back out when we play it later.”

I cracked two beers and passed him one. He said that he might.

We played a great set, and he did join us for A Shortcut Through The Minefield. It would’ve normally been our closing number, but since he’d stolen the song’s spotlight, we relegated it to being the last song before the encore, and we finished up with I Play A Beautiful Tuba and If Brown Is Wrong, I Don’t Want To Be Right, a couple of fan favourites from our first EP.

Eric had the keys to a friend’s house for the night so we had a bit of a party there after the show. We invited Jason along, a few friends, and some of the fans that we knew. The party was nothing special, just a bunch of people sitting around, having a few drinks, playing some tunes. We had some of our gear brought into the house and played a quick set of ironic punk covers of old power ballads like More Than A Feeling and Total Eclipse of The Heart. Jimmy does a mean Bonnie Tyler impersonation.

We fed Jason a bottle of bourbon and he was passed out, sprawled across the kitchen floor. We left him there throughout the party, and as it wound down, I volunteered to get our gear ready to go back on the bus in the morning.

I lugged each piece of gear carefully past Jason, and set them all near the front door. All but one last piece, one of Johnny’s practice amps. I was carrying it through the kitchen, over Jason’s limp body, and I dropped it on his left hand.

Jason woke up screaming, sobbing, trying to pull his trapped hand free. I made as though I was trying to lift the amp off of him as quick as I could, but for a second I pressed down on it and twisted, listening to his bones grind before moving it.

“Shit man, are you okay?” I asked him.

He couldn’t answer through the screaming. I called an ambulance for him. I explained to everyone, the band, the party guests, the paramedics, that I’d slipped and dropped the amp. They never questioned me. Jason never even questioned me. I told him later that I was sorry, and the sad son of a bitch believed me.

Jason had to drop out of the rest of the tour. We picked up a couple of local opening acts for our next two shows, before we had another band join us for the remaining dates. Every show, we invited the openers onto the stage for A Shortcut Through The Minefield. The audience loved it every time.

This story is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.5 Canada License.
For more information, please visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.5/ca/