Wig Bubbles

Last night in Vancouver U2 found a way to keep its live show fresh.

The Edge fell off the stage.

He was not hurt, so we can laugh about it.

A lot.

(If it bends, it’s funny. If it breaks, it isn’t.)

And while I may not be laughing as such, I have to admit I wish I’d been at that show.

Not that I wish any misfortune to Mr. Edge (The, to friends). Nor do I have anything against U2 as a person or Bono as a thing or whatever it is.

I give U2 credit for a fine debut album (Boy), a decent mid-period album (Achtung Baby) and, in One, a contender for one of the best pop songs ever transmitted to the masses. I’ve seen the band a time or two and enjoyed the show or shows. (Okay, I’ve seen two shows.) But I’m in no hurry to see U2 again.

Unless, that is, I can be assured one of the band members will fall off the stage. Perhaps they can agree to have a different aging rocker tumble from the platform each night. Drummer Larry Mullen Jr. will have the toughest time making it look accidental, but I’m sure he can pull it off. After all, not for nothing is the quartet known as The Larry Mullen Band. Continue reading →

Last month, through the magic of satellite radio, I managed to catch a fair number of sets by hip and happening artists performing live at Bonnaroo. And somewhere in the middle of Swedish sensation Lykke Li’s set, I was reminded that the 1980s may at this point have trumped the 1960s as the most stubborn decade in history.

Specifically, it was this song, a thinly disguised rewrite of I Want to Know What Love Is.

In the artist’s defense, perhaps it is intended to be a sequel to the Foreigner ballad. You know, she wanted to know what love was, found out and now will never love again. How very ’80s of her.

Yet, as we continue to go upward to go forward going backward all the time, there is hope. Take, for instance, the title track from the superfun new Socalled album.

That’s right. Funking you back to the 1970s with a song that is either a lost TV-show theme or a contemporary dance track from Québec. It is of course the latter (via Ottawa’s Bova Sound). But I like to think of it as both. Continue reading →

I have long maintained a distant relationship with the Ottawa Valley Country Music Hall of Fame.

Not by choice. I have known and interviewed a number of the Hall’s inductees and executives, all friendly-like. I have made efforts to promote their activities and the virtual Hall’s website. (See?) Yet, many of those efforts have met with resistance. And I think I get it. The City of Ottawa is creeping ever closer to the Valley; it’s understandable that folks out there might be wary of interest from city slickers like me.

But I will not be silenced. (Though I’m also unlikely to shout.) I will continue to openly admire the rich musical vein that has fueled generations of Valley people. The countrified sounds of the Ottawa Valley has earned admirers nationwide and worldwide. I know. I’m one.

April Verch is another. Continue reading →