I have missed the first two nights of the city’s gargantuan summer music festival. In the process, or so I’m told, I have been denied a “quiet” set by Joe Jackson and an “interesting” set by
Dave Davies Noel Gallagher.
I am determined that I will not miss a set by The Cult I anticipate will be neither quiet nor interesting.
It will, however, be wet. A day’s worth of precipitation has done the ground here at Le Breton Flats no favours. And here she comes again.
Indeed, as the 8 p.m. showtime approaches it has if anything gathered strength.
This joke isn’t funny anymore. Continue reading
I awoke this morning to a reminder that, today, people around the world will “celebrate” the anniversary of the death of William Shakespeare.
Cause for celebration? Many a high-school student may think so. Yet, surely, when it comes to loss of life, our celebratory spirit should be reserved for, say, the anniversary of the death of Hitler, or Cortés. Maybe Elvis, but that is more of a death-and-resurrection situation.
Yet death is much on our minds these days. The one certainty in life, it continues to shock. Ever more so, it seems. Continue reading
This morning, while I was waiting for a friend to stitch our car together one more time, I had an opportunity to sift through a local paper. Indeed, I gave three days’ worth of said paper a thorough going-over as I waited. And let me tell you, it was 10 minutes well spent.
For one thing, I learned that musicians are not getting rich via streaming. I had no idea. Steven Page noted that the regular income generated by his Barenaked Ladies recordings is today “much smaller than it once was” a few years ago. Continue reading
I will not play Chipmunk Punk. I will not play Chipmunk Punk. I will not play Chimpmunk Punk.
That is the lesson I took from my most recent DJ gig.You would be amazed at the number of disapproving glances that hard-to-find-but-harder-to-take LP can elicit.
Or, as one reluctant listener said: “You disappoint me, Wig.”
Do I? Or are the chimpmunks just too punk for you, punk?
Oh, fair enough. And, now that I think about it, I recall a similar reaction to my attempt(s?) to foist upon an unsuspecting public the theme from Fraggle Rock. Continue reading
Beyoncé turned into Nina Simone so gradually, I did not even notice.
Ms Simone could have warned her, though, to anticipate the backlash blues.
Heck, the morning after her dancing-dancing-dancing Black Lives Matter homage, the front page of one of our city’s free birdcage-liners was headed by an ad for a local radio station that boldly declared: “Beyoncé free!” The smirking tagline accompanied what is presumably the international symbol for ‘No Beyoncé.’
Oh for the days when a radio station would encourage us to listen based on what it does play. Continue reading