If you go to our new tblog site, you'll realize why I am no longer pounding poor ol' Lezah's name into google hell.

We are still posting, everything's the same, but the tblog name will actually reflect the original plan. Cheers to all

First let me explain that I’m a fan of Frank Zappa. Not a crazy fan of Frank Zappa, mind you. I only have about forty of his albums. And believe me, that’s not even half of what’s out there. (If you collect bootlegs…oy vey!)

I must admit that I approached the concert with some trepidation. Zappa wrote some of the most invidiously complicated and challenging music in “rock” – even his “dumb” songs are incredibly difficult to play. Would the junior Zappas be able to bring out Frank’s rigorous demands for perfection and musicianship from a fresh set of young performers, I wondered. I shuddered at the idea that the music would be dumbed down, its kinks smoothed out to facilitate a rather hastily put-together tour.

The staging was rock’n’roll simple: a large riser for the stationary instruments like drums and keyboards and mic stands set out for the roving axe-wielders. Stage right was a large drum kit that was hard not to gaze at in rapt awe. Consisting of three bass drums (“tuned a fifth note apart,” my friend informed me – I think), a variety of toms and an eccentric metal bar covered with a rainbow of cymbals that twisted snake-like over the drum kit. The drum set sat there throughout the show, like the proverbial elephant in the room – uncommented on, but so very, very there.

Apparently some concerts had a video screen playing footage of Zappa performing “Montana”. The omission at the QE was perhaps due to the late arrival of the gear, which necessitated a late soundcheck and a later start. “A bridge-related problem,” Dweezil explained. No apologies were needed though, as a typically late Vancouver audience was still filing into the venue twenty minutes after the projected start time. The audience was pretty much what I expected: hippie throwbacks from the last century and reconstituted hippies who cut off the old grey hair (which ain’t what it used to be) – many had probably seen Zappa himself perform at one of his many concerts here in Vancouver (in fact, Zappa had performed at the Queen E in 1984. There was a youngish crowd too, who, like me, had migrated to Zappa’s music in our restless flight from the boring mainstream.

Sweeping all my misgivings aside, the show opened with a Zappa-esque improvisation, Dweezil, in his father’s role as conductor, leading the band with a series of hand gestures as they grunted and squawked at his command before rolling into “Andy” – one of those complicated Zappa pieces that would test the mettle of any musician. Zappa loved a tight band and encouraged a togetherness that would have shamed Siamese twins. As he toured through the Seventies, his songs became aural steeplechases. His musicians chasing each other through lurching octave leaps, sudden starts and stops, bizarre time signatures, mind-bending polyrhythms and all his other moustachioed trademarks. The musicians chosen by Dweezil handled the enormous challenge with aplomb.

Dweezil has stated in interviews that he chose to use younger musicians to help younger members of the audience connect to the music, so it seemed attainable rather than an inaccessible occult science practiced by paunchy old men with pony tails and awesome chops. The band (Joe Travers on drums, Pete Griffin on bass, Aaron Arntz on keyboards, trumpet & vocals, Scheila Gonzales on saxophone, flute, trumpet, keyboards & vocals, Billy Hulting on percussion and Jamie Kime on rhythm guitar) were more that up to the challenge. And their youth gave them an exuberance that a collection of seasoned old pros would have lacked. Fittingly, Dweezil did play Zappa, acting as compère, guiding the band, doing a little singing and playing the majority of the lead guitar.

Musically, the show was very much the way Zappa might program a live show: most of the songs were from the mid- to late-Seventies (“Pygmy Twylyte”, “Cheepnis” “Inca Roads” “Florentine Pogen”) with a couple of Sixties classics thrown in (“Call Any Vegetable”, “Who Are the Brain Police?” “The Idiot Bastard Son”), and even then they mostly followed arrangements Zappa used in the Seventies. You almost felt like you were live at the Roxy (and elsewhere).

Of the guest performers, Napoleon Murphy Brock was the most ubiquitous, playing with the band through the entire show. An accomplished saxophonist, flautist and one helluva singer, Brock is also a master showman (=ham) whose wild gesticulations and even wilder dancing gave the audience a focal point as the band tackled Zappa père’s massive legacy. He gave you a connection to the early seventies bands which can be heard to such great effect in the Helsinki concert (You Can’t Do That On Stage Anymore Vol. 2). About halfway through the show, the purpose of the gi-normous drum kit became apparent when one-time Zappa drummer Terry Bozzio emerged and crawled into the drum kit like an astronaut entering a space capsule. Amusingly, the first two songs (“I’m So Cute” and “Trying to Grow a Chin”) were punkish thrashers that could have been played on a toy drum kit, let alone on Bozzio’s history of the drums museum. After a zesty “Punky’s Whips”, the full range of the drum set was reached on the amazingly intricate “The Black Page Part One”, a percussive piece that is not a drum solo, but a fully composed work that nods heavily to one of Zappa’s heroes, composer Edgar Varèse. Joining the band for “The Black Page Part Two”, was guitar ace Steve Vai who demonstrated why he became “stunt guitarist” for Zappa in the eighties. His complete mastery of all the tricks of modern guitarists, his use of sustain, his use of the whammy bar are mind-blowing. With Vai, the band ran through “Regyptian Strut,” “Peaches En Regalia,” “Montana” (with he and Dweezil playing dual, duelling guitars), “Village of the Sun” and “Zombie Wolf”, where Vai attempted to sonically burn down the QE Theatre. The concert ended with a medley of “Oh No”, “Orange County Lumber Truck” (or maybe “Son of Orange County”) and “More Trouble Every Day” with Vai and Bozzio re-joining the band on stage before ending the show with a burning “A Token of My Extreme”.

The show was a real testament to the Zappa fils love for their father and their admiration for his achievements. It is also a continuation of Zappa’s final projects with the Ensemble Modern as his great compositional legacy is carried on by his children. At the end of the concert, Dweezil said they hoped to make it a yearly event. I will most certainly be there.

My favourite Zappa record: Burnt Weeny Sandwich

**Warning: There were drum solos during the show (although apparently some people enjoy these things).

Visit Swank’s Home Site

I miss her - I miss her so badly that my stomach literally aches as if I haven’t eaten for days. She’s been gone for years, and yes, died in her mid eighties, but I ache nonetheless. I miss Lucy - my maternal grandmother, or Grandma, Gram, Grand-Mama, depending upon my mood. Her name was Lucy, not Lucille, and she had no middle name and really didn’t need one to define her, nor her roots. She was Lucy - meaning - ‘light’, and she certainly brought light into my life. She left us on July 4th and I always felt that she went at the right time - she personified the firecracker!

I miss her tea with pound cake (solves all dilemmas), and the deep discussions on anything we wished. She was my sealed vault - all secrets were safe with her. It amazed me she didn’t explode from all that she knew, especially with every other person confiding in her. I miss her frank discussions. Sex, childbirth, recent titillating news? - bring it on. She often joked in her latter years that she had a man stashed under her bed, ‘just in case he was needed’. We’d laugh that he was choking from being so dusty. My poor father would leave the dinner table, shaking his head, ‘Bloody women’.

I miss her voracious appetite for reading, her crossword expertise, and her appreciation of any meal placed before her. I miss her True Detective magazines,which were always well hidden in case the young ’uns got to them. If she were here now, she would be a rabid follower of Cold Case Files, City Confidential, and CSI. I first learned of the Black Daliah case from her and always wondered - who did it? Still wonder, for that matter.

I miss the stories of her youth - hiding in the British subways during the bombings, her deeply religious father calling her a ‘Jezebel’ when she cut her waist length hair into a fashionable bob. (By the way - that bob got her a full page picture in the Toronto Star with a simple statement, somewhere along the lines (memory is hazy) that she was more beautiful than the recently awarded Miss Toronto. (Here she was, a waitress at Murray’s and had no idea why the photographer wanted to take her picture). Her father, naturally, was horrified at the newspaper attention - modesty and humility comes first, you know.

She had me laughing when she discussed her sister, Mabel, and their antics - flapper dresses, binding their chests to be ‘fashionable’, doing the charleston on tabletops and generally having fun. Her tales of being in grade school and having her knuckles rapped with a ruler because she had the misfortune(?) to be left-handed was always shocking to me.

I miss her chocolate brown eyes that, I swear, twinkled, when she made her stories ’come alive’. Those stories transported me to a place I’d never know due to my youth, simply because of her excellent, descriptive ability. All senses were covered - sight, smell, sound, kinesthetic, and emotional. I swear, for that moment during her story, I was there! I was there when the streetcar hit her mother, permanently damaging her leg. I was there for the death of her beloved sister, Mabel, at the tender age of 17.

I miss her laugh, hand covering her mouth to stop any loud guffaw, and body literally shaking with mirth. I miss her standing in the greeting card corner, at the local pharmacy, giggling so hard at the humorous cards, that the pharmacist would even start to laugh. She was always known by her first name there.

I miss that when we went into stores - she bought top ten contemporary, and I bought Billie Holiday. Her grandchildren sent her tapes of music which she listened to over and over again. She did have a thing for George Michael. She felt ‘Careless Whisper’ was brilliant, along with Idle Eyes’ ‘Tokyo Rose’.

I even miss her pat responses - ‘I’m not surprised’, which would drive me nuts. I always wanted her to be shocked at some bit of news I brought, but it was always, ‘I’m not surprised’.

I miss her roundabout comments that would put me in my place if I was too cocky, too arrogant or too critical. She chastised me, without raising her voice or pointing out my specific error. Quietly she would make a general statement about peoples’ critical comments, and I would feel the shame wash over me as I realized what I had just been guilty of. Lucy taught me the true meaning of the expression - ‘There, but for the grace of God, go I’.

I miss walking down the street with her, arm in arm, proud that she was my Grandma. I miss her magnetic quality with children. She had them laughing and following her like the Pied Piper. Even whilst dying, when she noticed that her great grandson was fearful of her uncontrollable shaking, she calmly assured him that she was simply dancing the shimmy, which put him at ease immediately.

I miss her talks of the movie star greats: the death of Valentino; the gossip of Greta Garbo, Theda Bara, and Mary Pickford. I had several school teachers raise their eyebrows with my wealth of knowledge of the silent screen stars and the early talkie movies.

Most of all, I miss her love, affirmation, validation and constant reassurance that I was ‘going places’. She believed in her grandchildren, and great grandchildren, and believed them all to be brilliant, clever, creative, talented, etc.

Oh, how I miss her - time has not healed this wound, and I wonder when it will. I just hope she made Dad’s transition into the hereafter as comfortable as possible. After all - he lost two mothers by 20, and Lucy was his only constant. Hopefully, she’s taught him how to look back, and laugh.

Oh, Luuucy, I’m home - But where are you? Christine

I'm an inveterate fiddler with online tools - I sign up for betas when I can, and have a fiddle and a play, and - to be honest - a number of online applications have worked their way into my everyday way of working. Some of these I've mentioned on my blog, and others I just get on with and use.

Just recently, I've been thinking that I ought to review all the social software and online applications to which I am signed up, and figure out which I am using now that I could replace with improvements, which tools I could have been using but have neglected to do so in any coherent way, and which tools I can just do without - no matter how cool. I'd then like to work out what the unifying themes are with these tools, why and how I actually use them and the benefits they deliver to me.

I suppose a very quick shortlist includes Basecamp, Gmail, Google analytics, Blogger, delicious, and bloglines, but there are ithers - such as PageFlakes - which I use more irregularly, but could see myself using more if I get myself into gear. If anyone else has engaged in a similar review, I'd be interested in hearing the results.

Mark’s Home Page

Visit Sashi’s Site

Pixart Pocket Photobook

Let me just cut to the chase:

I won this Pixart Pocket Photobook at Minishorts’ blog. To say I was excited would be an understatement. To win a RM50 product for free is always nice. Expecially if the product looks pretty decent too.

Unfortunately, due to my rather extreme phobia of getting my ugly mug photographed, I don’t really have any good pictures to be used as fodder for the Pocketbook.

So I gave it away. (Think of me as a really undernourished Santa Claus.)

The lucky recipient? My colleague, who shall be known herewith as Knit Nut.

She had gone on a family trip with her husband and son to Cameron Highlands, and therefore decided to use the pictures taken there to be used for this Photobook.

According to the terms and conditions of the contest, I - or rather, Knit Nut, - had 30 days to submit the photos online using the free software provided by Pixart or the prize becomes void.

(Of course, she had to wait until the last possible minute to do this, which resulted in a frantic post-lunch frenzy of uploading and designing the layouts in order to beat the deadline. Fortunately, she made it.)

The book was mailed to her via Poslaju after 5 working days.

The results of which, you can view at my sashi-isms site.

A sample photo.

The Pocket PhotoBook has a more limited range of page designs compared to its bigger (and more expensive) cousin, the CoffeeTable Photo Book. But with a little creativity, and a lot of patient experimenting, you can still come up with a decent, satisfying, finished product.

As much as I’d like to go into the whole technical side of putting together the Photobook and all, I’ll just leave it to the other bloggers who have already done so. (See links below).

I’ll say this much, though - I think this is a pretty good product, and reasonably priced (RM50 isn’t really a lot for saving those cherished memories, and it makes a great gift idea too!), and I have to commend the excellent customer service, specifically Dominic who answered all my silly questions patiently. Thanks, dude!

Indeed, I’m actually seriously considering ordering the CoffeeTable Photobook for my own photo album, or at least giving it as a gift for people.

All I need to do now is to get over my fear of cameras…. erk.

Other blogger reviews:

Minishorts:No Word Review

Suanie: Pixart Pocket Photo Book

Yvy: A gift worth giving AND getting

Jolene: Pixart Pocket Books Make The Perfect Gifts!

b5xMom: Pixart PhotoBooks - Showcase of family love

I judge a concert by a number of criteria. 1) Does the performance make the hair on my arms stand on end? (Bizarre, I know, but very true when I have been overwhelmed by someone’s voice). 2) Do I find myself dancing like a madwoman, not caring how silly I look? 3) Am I mesmerised by the performance enough that if nature calls, I ignore it to the detriment of my bladder? 4) Do I look for hidden or obvious equipment that implies lip synching or auto tuning because the sound is so crisp? 5) Do I speak nonstop of the concert for days after the event? and finally, 6) Do I feel on the verge of tears because the music and concert’s ambience has somehow touched me?

With these criteria in mind, here are the best concerts I have ever attended in my life (and believe me, I have attended a lot of concerts).

Number 1 (actually it is tied with Number 2)

Sinéad O’Connor (Vancouver) - This was shortly after the release of her album, ‘The Lion & the Cobra’ and after the birth of her son. Sinéad was touring the requisite crap clubs as every new singer must do in order to ‘pay their dues’. Her hit, Nothing Compares 2 U, was years away and this tiny, stark, bald figure came onto the stage and began strumming and singing. I was not overly familiar with her album, having purchased it only the day before the concert. However, after the concert, I played that album to its demise. Nothing prepared me for her voice. The friend who had purchased me the ticket stood beside me, and for once, we were speechless. I barely remember the crowd around me, and I do not recall anything about the venue. I was focused on Sinéad, her expressions, her ability to become lost in the song, then coming around to introduce another song before she ‘left’ us again. The concert ended with an acoustic version of Troy and I actually cried. What’s more, I wasn’t even embarrassed. Here was this little waif who gave me goose bumps, rendered me speechless, and made me cry. She also did another song from her ‘upcoming album’ (I believe it was I am stretched on your grave, and then that was it. and then that was it, a quiet thank-you and off she went.

Number 2 (tied with 1)

Placebo (Commodore, Vancouver) - Again, I had jumped on the Placebo bandwagon a year late, but I loved their music, forcing every and any one to listen to their music, full blast in my car. (There’s nothing better than a captive audience.) I would discuss what I felt the songs were referring to and found the songs appealed to that inner teenaged angst that never really leaves us (but, hey - don’t tell the teens, they might be forced to believe we actually understand them.) When I heard Placebo was coming to Vancouver, I was quick to purchase the tickets. After anxiously waiting for the day to arrive, I arrived at the Commodore in time to listen to the opening act, Eagles of Death Metal. I remember liking them at the time, but thinking their music was incongruent with Placebo’s. When Brian Molko et el took the stage, a dancing heathen invaded my body. I sang loudly (and badly) to every song (faves being) Nancy Boy, Pure Morning, Special K, Every You Every Me, Commercial For Levi Lyrics - luckily I was not heard above the massive noise. I laughed, I danced, I laughed and I dripped with dancing sweat. Every part of my being was tingling with excitement - the excitement that only a roller coaster and a good live band can give you. My only regret was that I wasn’t 19, as every song they sang related to my life at that time (you know, that whole identity crisis that accompanies youth). Where the heck were Placebo when I was young? Oh right, they weren’t born. After repeated, captive car Placebo torture, my first-born teenaged son decided Placebo were 'good'. Yes, he lied out of self preservation, but I was happy.

Number 3

Concrete Blonde (Commodore, Vancouver)- Unless Johnette (lead singer) gets going soon, I have a feeling I was privy to her last Concrete Blonde Concert. I even flew to Toronto (after the gig I saw) to see the CB show, only to find out that the band cancelled due to the SARS outbreak. I have seen Concrete Blonde many times over the years - some concerts were good, some were ... well perhaps the band over indulged prior to playing. This concert, as usual, was packed and I was ready for anything. Johnette came out and from the first couple of vocal notes, I realized that this would be history in the making. She was in top form and the concert curiously did not plug a specific album. If anything, it was a ‘greatest hits’ type of performance. Also, I was amazed that she played every song that I could ever hope to hear. It was as if she took my own personal playlist from my imagination and followed it verbatim. She spoke between songs, she joked, she cajoled, and she was hilarious. Tomorrow, Wendy had me crying (as did When I was Young and Roxy) Seriously, look up some of the lyrics for these songs - amazing stuff. Then came the feelings of anger with God is a bullet and Jenny. Concrete Blonde effectively led me through a range of emotions that I was not even expecting to encounter. Sad note, my present husband and I share an affinity for Walking in Londonwhich was not played. Another odd thing, my ex husband, whom I managed to spot across the room (despite the packed to the rafters audience) spotted me at the same time. After 14 years of being apart and never speaking, we merely hugged, and said nothing more, silent in our appreciation of good music. Concrete Blonde meant something to the both of us and it highlighted a time in my life that I had shared with this now stranger. As certain songs were sung, we merely looked at each other and I felt that sorrow that one feels when they see someone who had so much charismatic potential, yet not enough chutzpah to pull it off. If you ever get a chance, listen to the song Little Conversations as it sums up my first marriage (ha - along with Eurythmics’ Thorn in my Side). Concrete Blonde has not returned to Vancouver since, and I have not felt that onslaught speed-dial of emotions since. Thank you Johnette.

So there you have it - I finally committed.

Joan remains as prolific today as she did in back in the 70’s 80’s and 90’s. Not only was she involved in mainstream music, but she was also behind many theme songs (ie: ESPN X-Games) as well as acting (both on film and stage). She is definitely a force to be reckoned with.

So, buy your tickets (if you still can) and go see this still vibrant, still relevant musician. You won’t regret it.

Recently, Regina Spektor gained a huge media buzz when her video for ‘Fidelity’ was viewed over 200,000 times in two days on the YouTube website. Being an avid ‘Youtuber’, I was pleased to see an artist, whom I have been listening to for years, finally coming into her own.

Regina has been a prolific song writer who’s been on the music scene since 2001. What first drew me to Regina was her similarity to Lesley Feist (whom I enjoy immensely) as well as to Ani Defranco. As well as the Youtube phenomena, Regina went through a fast-paced circuit of the late night shows in 2003, from Jimmy Kimmel to Jay Leno.

I especially enjoy Regina’s video, ‘Fidelity’, for its arty black and white linear set design with the occasional splash of colour, such a red and yellow, to deliver an even more pleasing contrast.

However, I have to confess I was one of those anonymous Youtube critics who dared to criticise the song ‘Fidelity’ for its annoying staccato refrain during the drawn out singing of the word ‘Heart’. Imagine my surprise when, several weeks after posting that critique, I found myself humming along with the, ‘ha,ha, har har har heart’ I earlier despised. Aside from that sort-lived refrain blip (which does grow on you - and not like fungus) this may well be Regina’s crowning achievement.

Visit Youtube's video at Fidelity

I was fourteen. All my friends were fourteen except for one who was thirteen. Teddy Facepuncher was definintley not fourteen. He was only a few grades ahead of us in school but the dude looked like he was twenty. Maybe he was. Impossible to tell. Not a lot was known about Teddy but these were the facts we had:

1 - He smoked. (We smoked sometimes too, but not the way Teddy Smoked. He didn't use his hands, he just put the cigarette in his mouth, lit it and devoured the fumes, exhaling usually out of his nose. It wasn't dissimilar to how Cookie Monster ate cookies.)

2 - He was never more than a few feet away from his dirtbike, which was lime green, had crappily painted black lightning bolts on each side, looked a hundred years old and was louder than Satan's lawnmower, chewing marble grass at the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

3 - He was rarely at school (even though he lived exactly two blocks from the school.)

4 - He was always, always hanging out behind the corner store (which wasn't actually on a corner, but was called The Corner Store nonetheless.)

5 - He loved, loved punching people in the face.

I've personally witnessed Teddy punch seven people in the face. One was our gym teacher, who Teddy punched outside of a school dance. Most were just guys Teddy fought behind the store.

One was my friend Marco, who Teddy punched for standing too close to his bike, (he cried). {Marco cried, not Teddy.} He was a bully and a villian in every sense. His games were intimidation and humiliation, and he played them with ease.

But by far the best/worst thing about Teddy was that his actual, real, honest to God last name was Facepuncher.

I shit you not.

It's in the yearbook.

This was the topic of many a weekend afternoon debate. Did he punch faces just because that was his namesake and he was trying to live up to it? Or was his ability to apply knuckles to the frontside of your head, innate? Was he born punching? What if he were born Teddy Treeclimber? Or Teddy Sucksatnintendo? Or Teddy Highfives? Would that change anything?

The usual protocol for for us anytime Teddy was near was to give him a wide berth. Cross the street, walk faster, keep your eyes down. It helped that you could hear his bike coming from several blocks away. I wasn't sure if I thought he was cool or scary or both or something else entirely.

But that day in November, as we were leaving the store with comic books and matches and Jolt Cola, I became sure of one thing. I wanted Teddy to punch me in the face. I wanted Teddy to punch me in the face for four reasons:

1 - I'd never been punched in the face before, and figured if you're gonna go, go with the best.

2 - So I could prove to Marco that he really was a pussy for crying for so long after Teddy punched him in the face.

3 - Maybe getting punched by Teddy would transfer some of his cool scariness over to me and in turn...

4 - Impress Janine Miller/make Janine Miller feel sorry for me and let me put my hand up her shirt.

We weren't more than a few steps out of the store's entrance when we heard the familiar, mangled roar of Teddy's shitbike. I turned to Marco and asked him to hold my Jolt Cola.

'Why', he asked.

'Because I have something to say to Teddy', I replied.

He gave me the same yeah-whatever look he gave me a hundred times a day, but he held my stuff for me regardless. Teddy had just zipped past us and was leaning his kickstandless bike against the front of the store. We were about ten feet away, far inside or usual sphere of Teddy avoidingness. I took a step toward him.

"Hey Teddy...", I yelled.

He turned and I assume he glared at me.

It was hard to tell through his sunglasses (that he was wearing despite it being gray and almost raining and November.) He raised his arms from his sides slightly, striking a 'What the fuck, kid?' kind of pose.

I inhaled.

I exhaled.

"Eat shit, Teddy."

I couldn't see or hear Marco and the others, but I assumed they had scattered. Jumped the ditch and scrambled a few feet into the woods, where they could watch the murder from a safe distance. I couldn't turn and see for sure because my eyes were fixed on the angry denim juggernaut barreling towards me. This was it.

A few steps more and he raised his fist and I swear to Metroid the second before he launched it he was wearing the only smile I'd ever seen cross his face.

Obviously I hit the ground. Tits up on the dirty pavement. I could taste blood and everything sounded weird, noise warping around my head in some kind of arc like that time I slipped and cranked my head on the ice in the third grade. Teddy was still standing above me. His fist had landed on my left cheekbone/side of my nose. He looked down at me, taking a drag of the cigarette I hadn't even noticed until I was on the ground. Victory smoke. It was then that I realized why he'd smiled right before flattening me. Because I was giving him what he wanted most. A face to punch. I was helping him continue to be what he had always been. Teddy Facepuncher. And it was during this moment of realization that I decided to swiftly and forcefully bury my Velcro-sneakered toe into his nutsack.

Obviously he hit the ground. I hastily but shakily got to my feet and began to stagger away. My faculties slightly dulled and blood dripping from my face. I half thought about kicking his bike over but decided against it. When a warrior hucks a spear at you, do you kill his horse? When a Care Bear touches you in a weird place do you destroy it's cloud car? No. And why turn certain beatings into a death sentence? As I wobbily marched home, collecting noseblood and brainjuice on my sleeve, I knew that I had perhaps set something dreadful into motion. I'd have to be driven to and from school in an armored vehicle from now on. And my friends would probably catch some fallout beatings as well. Maybe Teddy will try to kill me in my sleep. Maybe I was dying right now. Maybe I should go back and call Janine from the payphone, so I could touch a boob before I slip into a coma and rot away.

Everything was a question mark now. Except for one thing. One thing that would stand as legend in this town for generations. The day the mighty Teddy Facepuncher was defeated by a brave and noble young boy. A boy named Michael Bagcrusher.

Check out Mike's home at Sneakinout

Broken Social Scene

- this show was in Halifax during the hooplah-cane of Canadian musicality that is known as Juno weekend. Which meant that pretty much the entire BSS super team were on-hand to crowd the stage; even whats-her-Feist. They played a pretty long set, including just about every song from their latest album. About halfway through I started playing a little song-by-song tally game. (Okay... 3 guitars, 2 trumpets, 4 vocals, 2 drummers, etc. etc. etc.). It was a big show in every sense of the word. Towards the end I really had to pee but was afraid I'd miss my song so I stayed and squirmed and prayed. This gave new meaning to the words "It's All Gonna Break".

Chad Vangaalen

- the first time I saw CVG was at the Pop Explosion 2 years ago; which I assume I enjoyed but barely remember due to excessive consumption. This time I was a little more sensible and it was a slightly more intimate venue. This guy is fucking awesome. strumming and shreiking and harmonica-ing and foot pedal drumming his weirdly catchy little songs all by himself. (Towards the end he was joined by some other players, but it was his stage, his law). An excellent show with plenty of babes who wouldn't talk to me. (Warning!! to the shitbag scenekids who'd rather stand up front horsing around to get seen than actually watch this guy perform his songs... I remember your stupid haircuts and I will make our next meeting impossibly uncomfortable and morbidly embarrassing. for you.)

TV On The Radio

- these guys were great. Packed house, lots of energy, great musicianship, interesting banter, catchy songs and even a shout out to Hall and Oates. One of those shows where you leave feeling totally fucking juiced. A++.

The Freaky Blind Guy

who was singing., "Hard To Say I'm Sorry" by Chicago in the Guy-Concordia Metro station - absolutely mind blowing.

Dinosaur Jr.

(picture by Kevin Scanlon) - I was half drunk, half running, and all the way stoked-as-hell; just minutes from the Marquee Club and Dinosaur Fucking Junior; when I reached in my pocket and realized that I forgot my fucking earplugs. I could see them, sitting on my desk (well not MY desk really because I was staying at someone's place because I was kind of in-between homes at the moment, but anyway). I stopped for a second and weighed my options. Go to the show and guarantee myself semi-permanent ear damage? Or not go to the show and wake up every morning in a sea of bile and spew and preventable self-hatred for the rest of my days. So I did the responsible thing and stood a foot and a half away from the stage and got my ears reamed by all the songs that my ears have been begging to get reamed by since before I could sprout facial hair. It was feirce. the noise was punching my organs. J looked like a cross between Gandalf the Grey and a guitar with legs. Fucking perfect. Also, the ringing is starting to fade a little. Check out Mike's home at Sneakinout

Sarah Slean will be performing "Lucky Me" on CANADA AM on Monday, December 11th with the Blue Spruce Quartet at 8:50 am EST .Check this link for the broadcast time in your area.

Sarah will also be doing an interview and performing "Lucky Me" on MTV LIVE on Monday, December 11th at 7:10 pm EST. You can also watch this plus bonus performances of "California," and "Out In The Park" on Click on MTV LIVE tab.

As well, Fantastic Oprah News!

Josh Groban AND Michael Bublé (with Tony Bennett) both taped performances on OPRAH the other day, and the show will air this coming Monday, December 11 th. We all know what appearing on Oprah does to artists' numbers. Good luck to all of them.

Freak folk? Weird folk? Psych folk? Avant folk? Anti folk? Whatever you want to call it, indie pop goddess/Celtic harpist Joanna Newsom played to an adoring (and sold out)crowd on Monday night.

I had heard Newsom's 2004 single 'Sprout and the Bean'; in fact, it's in Mary's top ten. So on the strength of that, we went to the show at the very well chosen venue, St. Andrews Wesley Cathedral. This is the second show I've seen here (the other being Sufjan Stevens back in October); it's also been the site of a few other outside-the-mainstream acts such as Antony. And really, it's a fantastic venue. I've never heard better sound; the church has got that old church smell (not a bad thing!) - and not surprising, seeing that it's one of the oldest buildings in Vancouver; and more than anything, it's just so very full of atmosphere.

Like the Sufjan Stevens show, the line stretched a whole block by the time we got there; fortunately, it didn't take quite so long for the doors to open. Once again we got great seats up in the balcony, and between you and me, the crowd-watching almost rivalled the actual show. There was all sorts of get-ups there, from a bearded guy in a huge bearskin coat to Vancouver's uber hip to a Squeaky From look-alike, complete with shaved head to guys in lumber jack shirts over their Star Trek t-shirts to hippy-looking folk. Among women, the hairstyle that seemed to be extremely popular was that late 1930s/early 1940s-influenced slightly dishevelled/ultra short bangs cut; with the guys it seemed that they were trying to make their fashion statements with their choice of eyewear (heavy and oversized frames were popular). Also in evidence: lots and lots of scarves, and hats of all sizes, shapes and colours. Over-all, about 90% of the crowd appeared to be in their 20s, and of those, I'd estimate that about 60%+ of those fans were male.

The opening act was a man - I don't think he ever introduced himself, and I don't recall seeing anyone up there introducing him. He just came up, sat down and started singing. Dave had heard that Newsom was touring with an act called 'Smog', but we have no confirmation that this guy was that act. Anyway, he sang and played the acoustic guitar with no accompaniment. He had a rich, very full voice, and sounded a bit like Michael Hurley - but I found he took a long, long time between songs, just kind of sitting there, thinking. And he played for quite a long time. But he seemed to enjoy what he was doing, and I guess that's half the fun - just watching him have fun.

Joanna Newsom came on in a very quiet, unobtrusive way - the stage was dark and she just came and sat at her harp and started playing - no introduction, no lights, no nothing. She played her new album, Yes, in its entirety, which is something you don't see very often. At times it was just her up on the stage, and at times she was joined by a small backing band. There were the usual suspects - drums, guitar - but also accordion, saw, etc. The guitar play is actually a guy we saw opening for Michael Hurley - I believe he plays under the name Currituck County. And the drumming was positively tribal. The audience itself was, in a world, reverential. They were probably the politest and quietest crowd I've ever sat amongst. And when Newsom finished her set, in unison the crowd stood and gave her a standing ovation. The ovation went on until she returned to the stage and played three more songs. Again, another standing ovation, and when the house lights went up, I know the crowd was still wanting more. But it wasn't to be.

Newsom's music is like no other out there that I know of - the 'little girl' voice she sang with on her first album, The Milk-Eyed Mender, has matured and sounds fuller. For this album, she got together with Van Dyke Parks for the orchestration and arrangements. Her allegory-laden lyrics are still as complex as before, and the many styles that have influenced her, from avant garde modernism to Celtic to African and Venezuelan harp rhythms to Appalachian folk still shine through.

So there he was: Chuck Berry with brilliantined pompadour, two-toned shoes and a paisley jacket, duck-walking across the stage in the middle of a Sunday afternoon. He was professional, delivered the goods, but he looked like he was glad the airport was nearby. He kept glaring at the bass player for missing cues, and the poor bass man (a kid really) could only shrug and keep trying. What the hell, you only get to play with a legend once, may as well make the best of it.

My blue suede shoes were falling apart at the seams anyway. There was a revolution in popular music just around the corner (well, in England really), and it didn't take long for Vancouver to become a hotbed of new wave /punk with all its furious energy. Now, that was fun: rebellious, chaotic, noisy, creative, drunk, and wildly divergent. As a friend once remarked of the Sex Pistols (who actually sucked as a band), "They opened a lot of doors."

And thus we got to see a lot of great stuff unfold here in the late 70s and early 80s, especially once the Commodore Ballroom realized that these bands could bring in large crowds. I saw a lot of great shows there, and even remember a few of them. The one that stands out the most was The Blasters, circa 1982.

The Blasters were two brothers - Phil and Dave Alvin - from Downey, California, along with some masterful sidemen (including piano and sax). Their roots ran deep into every vein of American music. Trying to describe them is like trying to describe the early Elvis - there was really nothing quite like them, before or since. Nominally, they were a rockabilly band, but they also had influences in the blues, country and western, Chicano R & B (like their friends Los Lobos), and plain old rock and roll.

And could they rock! They blew the roof off that place, and the audience kept wailing for more. And the thing I noticed most was the diversity of the crowd: leftover hippies, punkers, preppy college kids, even a table or two of greying Hells Angels, and ALL were thoroughly enjoying themselves.

This was because they had truly great songs, and were truly great musicians. The Blasters had a rule for admission in their band: everyone had to be able to play everyone else's instruments. This was so they understood how those other instruments worked alongside their own, and it showed. I've never seen a band play better live.

They were also dedicated to keeping it real: no computers, synthesizers, or any other such digital tricks allowed. Phil Alvin, lead singer and rhythm guitarist is also a student of advanced mathematics, and he has a lot of theories(which he hopes to turn into proven formulas) about what the structure of music is, what it represents, and how it gets that way. He told an interviewer, "Give me a rock, man. I'll sit over here and bang with the rock and sing - and you play synthesizer - and I betcha I can get a bigger crowd." He concluded that conversation by saying, "Rock jazz fusion funk punk country swing blues - the names are in. Now it's technique. Now you concatenate."

It's almost a truism that a band that good can't last. Chief songwriter Dave Alvin left in 1985 or 86, and they never really recovered. But while they were active, they were untouchable. They usually ended their shows with the crowd-pleasing 'Marie Marie' - once described as the best Chuck Berry song that Chuck Berry didn't write - and just before the house lights went up, Phil would yell at the crowd, "We're the Blasters, tell yer friends..."

Yes, indeed; people still talk about that show.

http://www" title="http://www" target="_blank"http://www dot rhino dot com/store/ProductDetail dot lasso?Number=78345

I went to see the highly controversial Body Works 3 at Science World on Monday. I say highly controversial because there has been quite the firestorm over this exhibit in the media and around various School Board meeting tables since the display opened. In fact, a number of local School Boards have (narrow-mindedly, in my opinion) banned this particular exhibit. And why is that? Well, it's because real human bodies are used; obviously some would have strong feelings over this.

Me? I'm not so fussy.

So I went. And I enjoyed it, so much so that I will be going again this weekend. To say I was fascinated would be an understatement.

I had heard about the exhibit before I went, and also did a bit of research. This show has already toured the globe extensively (hence the '3' at the end of the title), but with each tour, more and different displays are added, and advances are made in the science of plastination, the technique invented in 1977 by Dr. Gunther von Hagens.

Body Works 3 is actually fully titled Body Works 3: The Anatomical Exhibition of Real Human Bodies. Each of the bodies was donated to science and has since undergone the process of plastination. Each one is stripped of skin and, in some cases, split or otherwise altered in order to show the workings of the anatomy beneath the surface. Muscles figure prominently, but all systems and organs are exposed. The figures are posed in a variety of real life positions as well as in some not-so-usual ones - there's a skateboarder and a trapeze artist, for instance.

But the part I found even more interesting than the actual bodies were the cross sections showing various disease processes. That was truly fascinating.

And then there was the obese man. This is particular display is new to Body Works, as previously the technology did not exist for plastinating adipose tissue (fat). But now they can do it, and as a result we get to see a cross-section of the body of an otherwise healthy 50 year old man who just happens to weigh 300 lbs. The sheer stress that this extra weight puts on his body is palpable - fat covers every aspect of his body - even between his vertebrae. The pressure on his heart is there for everyone to see right before their eyes; it's clear why he did of a heart attack at a relatively young age.

I highly recommend this exhibit. For those who are a bit squeamish, it might be better left off the 'must see' list, but anyone else with an inquiring mind - GO! See it! I dare you.

December 6, 2006

VANCOUVER

CAPRICE:CLUBZONE BAD(DER) SANTA III PARTY FEATURING:

clubZone Original Nights presents...

Bad(der) Santa III clubZone.com and

Caprice Nightclub Appreciation Christmas Party...

Pre-party dinner starts at 6pm @ Brown's in Yaletown. Private limousines will shuttle people from dinner to the party at 9pm. Featuring the best party rocking... Read More

WHEN: December 14, 2006

TIME: 9:00PM - 3:00AM

VENUE: Caprice Nightclub

ADDRESS: 967 Granville Street

TICKETS: Click here

GUESTLIST: No

DRESS CODE: Guys - Bad Santa // Girls - Naughty Elves

GALA NEW YEARS EVE DINNER & DANCE CRUISE

Ring in 2007 in grand style aboard the Pride of Vancouver. Your cruise includes a gourmet buffet, entertainment and dancing all in the true cruise ship tradition. With the romance of the sea, Vancouver's spectacular skyline, the lights at night and the midnight fireworks show... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

007 NYE

Celebrate 007 in style at this sexy James Bond soiree...

at the penthouse of 1495 West 8th Avenue! This venue is a very popular destination for New Year's with it's unique location, massive patio and a spectacular view of downtown Vancouver ... [Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

NYE 2007 @ PLUSH

Celebrate NYE 2007 with the GODS as we transform Plush into a heavenly paradise! #1 most anticipated fully themed NYE party in Vancouver. Enter through the illuminated pathway- Dance amongst the clouds. Toast the coming of 2007 in the presence of Z E U S in his courtyard of pillars... [Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

BAR NONE NEW YEARS EVE

Join us at Bar None for New Year’s 2007... Hors d’oeurves, champagne and party favors Celebratory music all evening from soul to bounce to house and back with Zak Santiago. Open 9pm till late... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

RAPTURE NEW YEARS EVE 2007

Featuring the West Coast Premire of Worldwide superstar DJ Scotty Thomson (Splash Bar/ Avalon, New York, NY) and DJ Quest in the ultimate BOND lounge VIP Tickets are limited. VIP ticket includes: Priority Entry - No line-up, Complimentary Coat Check, 3 complimentary drinks- 2 non-alcoholic drinks; 1 alcoholic drink ... [Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

RELISH NEW YEAR DINNER, PARTY OR BOTH

Ring in the new year at RELISH with 2 DJs pumping out the tunes from 10PM til late...

Alternatively, join us starting at 6:00PM for an early dinner seating with 2 great dining options below or join us at 8:30PM for the late dinner seating. If you are planning on going to the party later ...Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

DOM PERIGNON NEW YEARS EVE PARTY AT CLUB 686 - PI ENT

This event will feature the finest champagne, exquisite beats and exclusive DKNY gift certificate give-aways! Club 686 features Intimate newly renovated setting, 8 ft. wide aquarium, 3 VIP areas with HD plasma displays, Extended dance floor, 2 elevated dance poles and the only Cryojet Fast-freeze CO2 blower in the city ... [Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

NEW YEARS EVE EXTRAVAGANZA CLUB CRAWL 2007 - BLARNEY STONE

http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y12/swanktrend z/Dec_April062007/ex2.jpg" title="http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y12/swanktrend z/Dec_April062007/ex2.jpg" target="_blank"http://i2.photobucket.com/alb...

Student Tours will be taking the original NYE Club Crawl 2005 to the next level. We will be providing party bus transportation between four of Vancouver's top bars. The clubs and dance floors will be packed, and bus captains will be stationed on every party bus to keep the party rockin' between clubs... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

CRUSH NEW YEARS EVE GALA EVENT

Experience Vancouver's hottest New Year's celebration in the city's sexiest room... oozing in Miami-style decor! Sip on Veuve Champagne, indulge on tastefully prepared appetizers, groove to the best in funky house beats and capture the whole night with complimentary disposable cameras... [Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

NYE 07 : RICHARDS ON RICHARDS : HIP HOP NYE

As night falls, the clock ticks , the minutes count down as the new year falls upon us. 2007 is coming, have you made your countdown plans? Leftcoast Promo w/ Soulgood Entertainment are proud to bring you "NEW YEARS EVE 2007" @ Richards on Richards.

Come party downtown in style w/ 500 + all yourfriends ... [Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

PASSION - BACK TO LIFE - NYE 07

The Passion crew Is back bigger than ever with a stellar lineup old favourites and select new schoolers. We have a fabulous new Venue with 2 bigrooms monster sound rigs and the usual mind altering visuals. Looking forward too showing of the new home of Passion ... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

BUFFALO CLUB NYE 2007 WITH THE TURN, BABY JANE (OUR HOUSE BAND) AND DJ JAY FROST

The Buffalo will be packed to the roof for new years. This will be ridiculous, the only question is what musical treat can we spoil our loyal patrons with? Buffalo Club is proud to present The TURN. The TURN combines addictive hard rock with terrific vocals and great musicianship ... [Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

STONE TEMPLE NYE BASH 2007

Dj Phil Hart Droppin the Beats you love and the king of bar games himself Zahf the entertainer, gettin your party started.

The Stone Temple NYE Bash has sold out 10 years in a row...this will be Lucky #11! General Admission tickets include champagne @ midnight and Party Favours... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

NEW YEARS CELEBRATION 2006/2007

Rendezvous Club is proud to present New Year's Eve 2006/2007 at Studeo 55. Come and join over 200 Vancouver Singles to celebrate the New Year!

Tickets include: Amazing Venue, Live Band (Twist and Shout), Live DJ, Free Drink, Free Champagne at Midnight... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

NYE 2007 FEAT. THE LAWNCHAIR GENERALS : INTIMATE PRODUCTIONS

This New Years Eve, Intimate Productions is proud to bring you Vancouver's premier three room New Years party with music to satisfy you and all your friends. One of our most successful shows this year featured the Lawnchar General at the Tokyo Lounge, and to make our NYE show a little extra special ... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

SHAKEN & STIRRED NEW YEARS EVE 2007 BASH

Get together with friends for this spectacular New Year's Eve Bash @ AuBar. We are getting ready for you to shake your body to the best night of the year. Our fantastic bartenders are stirring up the martinis which are waiting for you ... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

NYE PARTY W/SANTA LUCIA

Having recently opened for the world renowned band Ozomatli, Vancouver based Santa Lucia is set to rock the NYE 07 Party at Malone's. Expect an awesome set of Latin Funk mixed with dance, world & afro beat styles!Plus!- Party Favors, Champagne @midnight, and awesome Drink Specials. $15

PRESALE available only online through clubzone.com. Ticket price will increase to $20 day of event and at the door $40 VIP rate includes dinner package...more details to soon follow.... [Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

NEW YEARS EVE 2007

Once again we're bringing you the biggest and best New Years Party Vancouver has to offer...

Includes Party Favors, Appies, Bubbly at the strike of Midnight. Dj Tanner will be spinning the best in Hip Hop, R&B, TOP 40 and Dance ...Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

GOLD NEW YEARS EVE WITH DJ SNEAK GOLD New Years Eve with DJ Sneak, Playboy DJ Diamond, and our very own Jesse James-Hosted by Savio and Trust Events till 4am!

Celebrate the New Year with our most exciting New Years Eve Celebration to date! Azure Lounge located in Vancouver at The Plaza of Nations will be transformed into a Gold &White Cuban inspired oasis ... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

AN ENCHANTED NEW YEARS 2007

Come Enter A World Of Fantasy.

Your tickets includes Champagne, Party Favors, and a Huge Countdown @ Midnight. Party the night away till 4am! This will truly be a night to remember ... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

NEW YEARS COUNTRY STYLE

Kenny Hess on stage playing all his hit songs, Dj Chris play all your requests. FreeChampaign to ring in the New Year. Drink Specials and Prizes to be Won all night long! So join Mustangs Bar to ring in your New Year right... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

TWILIGHT NYE 2007 - BOAT CRUISE

Upon walking up the spiral staircase you will be astounded by the simple elegance of having no walls or obstructions in your way to view the magnificent Vancouver skyline. From this panoramic viewing area you can relax and enjoy the refreshing air and a delicious beverage... Read More

WHEN: December 31, 2006

I don’t write a lot now, do I?

It’s December. One more month, and I can put this year behind me. I hope.

For the last few months, I’ve been feeling like I’m stuck between a rock and a.. rock. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Should I, or shouldn’t I? But I have. So I shouldn’t. Not again. Right?

Right.

I need to cut down on rice, and coffee. Problem is, rice is the staple food of my family meals, and coffee…. well, if you know of an alternative (yet legal) way to go from 0-to-alert in 10 minutes in the morning before I head off to work, you’ll let me know, won’t ya?

I don’t exercise enough. That’s because I don’t get fat. So all these years, I’ve never really had the incentive to work out, but I know exercise is more than just losing weight. I know. You know too. So why don’t we do it?

I REALLY should stop passing by bookshops. Wait, let me rephrase that. I REALLY should START PASSING BY bookshops - and not go INTO them all the time. I cannot afford it.

They’re moving the Sunday Pasar Malam (night market) in Bangsar Baru from its present location in the Telawi area to some place next to a used car dealership or something. It’s probably for a good reason, but I hate when change comes, you know.

It’s funny when you watch a TV show or a movie or reading a book or a blog or just listening to somebody talk… and you realise you’re not the only one in the world who thinks or feels or acts like that. We’re not alone, amigos and amigas. We know this, and yet, we often feel alone. Why is that?

Apparently, the truth will set you free. (Unless you’re confessing to murder, in which case you get life.) I tried the truth, and all it got me was doubt. I suck at lying, so that’s not gonna work too well either. The only option seems to be to totally ignore it and hope it goes away by itself. That’s like a Dilbert Rule, innit?

“What’s cold turkey?”, I asked someone the other day. She said Google it (or Wikipedia it, I can’t remember). What did we do before the internet, eh? Cos I sure as heck don’t remember running to the dictionary/encyclopaedia every few hours looking up stuff. How did we ever KNOW anything?

(Btw, Wikipedia says: “The term allegedly derives from the comparison of a cold turkey carcass and the state of a withdrawing addict — most notably, the cold sweats and goose bumps.” So now you know.)

When I first watched LA Law, I wanted to be a lawyer. Then I watched Wall Street and wanted to be a hotshot corporate investment banker. Then I watched Baywatch and wanted to be a lifeguard. Then I watched E.R. and Chicago Hope, and I wanted to be a doctor. Then I watched The Practice and wanted to be a lawyer again. Now I watch House, Scrubs, and Grey’s Anatomy, and I realise I cannot base my life decisions on things I watch on TV. Plus, it’s too late to change careers, anyway.

Or is it?

There’s this poll on The Star Online eCentral.

I voted for Quantum Leap. One of my most favourite shows ever. But apparently people can’t get enough of MacGyver. No problem, I was a huge MacGyver fan too. (MacGyver for President!) But Richard Dean Anderson is too old to play Mac now, and really, no one else, in my mind, can really play that role.

Unless…. well, in the final season, it was revealed that MacGyver had a son. So who knows, we could have a movie where MacGyver Jr takes up the reins, eh?

It’s getting dark outside. Time to wrap this up.

Bye. Take care. Y’all don’t forget to write now, ya hear?

image from www.hooray2u.com

A word of caution: This is a rambling post. There’s probably a point in it somewhere, if you care to sift through the muddled confusion presented below. But that takes effort, and if you’re not the type to sit through stuff like this, log off now and go out and save the world or something.

All right, let’s see a show of hands. How many of you believe you are - or have been - in love?

Come now, let’s be honest.

Quite a lot of hands. Not surprising, I guess. If there’s one thing we can admit is inevitable in the human condition, it is its unfailing compulsion to fall in love.

Or at least, love as we believe it to be.

See, I don’t consider love to be something definable, something tangible. I think love is merely a concept, a name conjured out of thin air to describe what is sometimes indescribable. As Al Pacino says to Keanu Reeves in The Devil’s Advocate: “Biochemically no different from eating large quantities of chocolate.”

Maybe that sounds a bit harsh. Let’s soften it up a little.

We know this: there are supposedly different categories of love. There’s the love of a child for her doll (”I love my Barbie!”), there’s the love a child for her parents and vice versa (”I love you, Daddy!”, “Ditto, my lil’ pumpkin...”), there’s the love shared between a couple (”I love you, darling”, “I love you too, sweetie”), etc., etc.…

But what does all those declarations mean? What does saying “I love you” signify?

I’ll tell you what I think it means. It’s a promise. An IOU. A note of intent, saying “Hey, I’m going to care for you, and be there for you, and support you, and treasure you, and think the world of you, and be your best friend, and share in your joys and troubles, and generally be the person you can always depend on at anytime, anywhere, till the end of our days.”

There’s more to that, but the above is probably the gist of it.

But what about people who have - or think they have - fallen in love? How does the above explain the feelings they get? You know, the sweaty palms, butterflies in stomach, tongue getting twisted in knots, nervous fidgeting, constantly thinking and dreaming of the object of their affections….

Well, it doesn’t explain it. That’s because I believe - and this is gonna sound a little strong - these people are NOT in love.

Yup. You read that right. There’s no such thing as “falling in love”. Even that phrase, so often the mainstay of global popular culture, so often the single defining theme of countless songs, movies, stories, gossip, rumour, what-have-you, is as meaningless as buying a card for your wife of 25 years on Valentine’s Day. (Does a guy in a long-term committed relationship really need a nudge from the calendar to tell his wife he loves her?)

Just like the noun ‘love’, there’re also supposedly different categories of “falling in love”: puppy love, the crush, infatuation, unrequited love, love at first sight, true love, etc.

I think that’s just a bunch of baloney. It’s all the same. See, the difference is hindsight. Everyone who “falls in love” thinks that’s what it is - until it ends badly, in which case they refer to it as a “just a harmless crush”, “an infatuation, really...”

While those lucky enough to see the “crush” grow into a long-lasting committed relationship look back and say, “Well, it was love at first sight, you know...”, “Yes, the moment I met her, it was true love…”

Hindsight.

That’s what I mean when I say I believe love is a promissory note. When two people meet and one or both find themself or themselves attracted to the other, is it love? No, just hormones.

When someone tells the object of his/her affections that he/she “loves” the other, is that love? No, as I’ve mentioned above it’s just a promise. A declaration of intent. But it’s a start.

When people have spent time and effort making good on that promise, never wavering from the objectives that they have declared and summarised so succinctly in those three words, when they can look at each other in the eye and know what both of them have undergone over the years to keep their relationship strong and happy, that’s when they can say, truly say, that they’re in love.

Love is a track record. It’s what you do, not what you say, or even what you feel.

Look at all the broken marriages, the countless divorce cases. Would you say the unfortunate couples were never in love, that if they were “truly in love”, their marriage would last?

I wouldn’t. I’d agree they were never in love, but I’d disagree about the second part.

Like I said, none of us start out “in love”. Relationships end not because people weren’t in love, but because people did not work on making the relationship work. They simply failed to keep their promise.

So the next time you want to express your love to someone, keep in mind that your words - sweet talk you probably picked up watching some schmaltzy movie somewhere - is like a campaign promise you make to your constituency (here meaning the ‘lovee’) in order to win their votes.

Real love - TRUE love - is what you do to make good on your election promises so you can win re-election.

This is the end of the post. I think I made my point somewhere up there, but then again, I’m no writer, so if you’re as confused as I am, let’s discuss these over a hot cup of java.

… and that’s a wrap.

Image from crapcore.deviantart.com/

I have been acquainted with Bublé’s work for the last few years and find him to be a man born too many years too late. His singing is reminiscent of the ‘golden years’ of male singers - the sultry, soothing vocal quality that would have had the ladies fainting in the ‘50s and ‘60s (ala Sinatra, Perry Como, Mel Tormé, et el.) Giving the public’s love for sentimental trips down memory lane, Bublé’s arrival has been cemented in the music charts (and fan’s hearts) as a force to be reckoned with.

Where is this leading you may ask? Well it has come to my attention that Michael’s has been nominated for a People’s Choice Award. The category in question is "Best Remake: Save The Last Dance" . Any of you whom have heard this track know of what I speak. Not only does he take us on a sentimental journey (which none of us are old enough to recall), but he completely owns the song and makes it work, despite today’s cynical, music expectations.

As askmen.com noted:

You don't always need a fresh sound to make headway on the musical highway. If you're talented and have the "It" factor, then you're on your way -- especially if you're signed to a reputable record label. This is Michael Bublé's story, and now he deserves all the acclaim he gets.

This is where you, our dear and delightful readers are needed. Please go to the following link and vote for Bublé - I believe you may even vote more than once. Let’s acknowledge and celebrate this young man for bringing back not only the classics, but the classic, ultimate showmanship that reflects Michael’s strong work ethic. I think his winning a People’s Choice Award would be fitting for a man who has dedicated his life to serenading the fans, (both young and old). Get on that computer and vote, vote vote! Thank you!

Vote Bubléhttp://

DECEMBER 5

LARRY THE CABLE GUY A Very Larry Christmas

LIL SCRAPPY Bred 2 Die Born 2 Live

OST Music From The O.C. Mix 6:

OST Van Wilder 2: The Rise of Taj

BRIAN MCKNIGHT Ten

METALLICA Metallica: The Videos 1989-2004 (DVD)

VARIOUS The Best Of...Later (DVD)

DECEMBER 12

TAKING BACK SUNDAY Louder Now: Part One (CD/DVD)

DECEMBER 19

LORRAINE HUNT LIEBERSON Sings Peter Lieberson: Neruda Songs

TRICK DADDY Back By Thug Demand

NEIL YOUNG Living With War - In The Beginning CD+DVD)

JANUARY 9

GREEN DAY Kerplunk!

GREEN DAY 1,039/ Smoothed Out Slappy Hours

OST Arthur & the Invisibles

JANUARY 23

’pàà

BLACK LIPS Live In Tijuana

PRETTY RICKY Late Night Special

KENNY WAYNE SHEPHERD 10 Days Out...(Blues From the Backroads) (CD/DVD)

JANUARY 30

CRIME MOB Hated On Mostly

TRAVIS TRITT Best Of

VARIOUS ARTISTS Chick Flicks: The Collection

VARIOUS ARTISTS From The Heart 2

VARIOUS ARTISTS From The Heart: The Classics

TBS JANUARY

HONEYMOON SUITE Bed of Nails (DVD)

MADONNA The Confessions Tour (DVD, CD/DVD)

FEBRUARY 6

BARENAKED LADIES Are Men

BLOC PARTY A Weekend In The City

LIL' FLIP I Need Mine

LIL' FLIP I Need Mine (Chopped & Screwed)

ASHLEY TISDALE Headstrong(CD, CD/DVD, CD/Karaoke

THE USED The Berth (CD, CD+DVD)

FEBRUARY 13

8 BALL & MJG Ridin' High

FEBRUARY 27

BILL ENGVALL 15 Degrees Off Cool

TBS FEBRUARY

VARIOUS Unholy Alliance (CD/DVD)

MARCH 6

NOTORIOUS B.I.G. Greatest Hits

MARCH 27

BILL ENGVALL 15 Degrees Off Cool (DVD)

LUVANMUSIQ Musiq Soulchild

BLAKE SHELTON Pure BS

PAUL WALL Get Money, Stay True

ALL DATES ARE TENTATIVE