Ah life...

Man o man it's been a strange time these last few months.
One shit storm after another sprinkled with good times and heart warming moments.
Still feeling a bit numb I think but not in a heartless, traumatized kind way. Maybe numb isn't the right word. I don't know what it is exactly but I feel it. Transitions are on the horizon, change is in the air and that feeling of fear and exileration flowing through me like a lightning bolt is keeping me up at nights. Wouldn't have it any other way.
Me and my new rat friend are chillin in the back yard in my new place, mocking the crack heads in the alley in tandem. I now prefer rats to crackheads. They are cleaner and keep to themselves mostly. As long as he stays out of the house we're cool. At least until we get to know one another better. Then as long as he wipes his feet before coming in we shall remain...cool.
WTF!!!? Inspiration or madness? I'll figure it out later.

I love being inspired I must say. It's one thing to be an inspired individual, that is - one that is creative and draws from his/her environment or a muse of some sort. It's another to 'be' inspired, or rather to have inspiration injected into you by something or someone or both.
I feel like I've been shooting straight inspiration lately but I can't quite figure out what to do with the high I'm getting from it. It's different from the kind of inspiration I get from, say, playing music. It's a life/future/now kind of thing. I can't even keep my thoughts straight long enough to get them out in a concise, coherent format. All I can do is puke out these undigested ramblings in an effort to avoid getting the spins from the overwhelming weight of them all in my head. Sounds nasty I know but it's all coming together. It feels good and that counts for something.
My heart is skipping and my head is floating in a very exciting and scary way.

Enough about me. How are you?

Everybody Hurts

I am so done with this weather! What a miserable day.
There. that's my little bitch session for now.

As usual it's been a while since I've posted any updates here. My apologies to anyone who may have been waiting (Kev) for some news from my wee little mind.
It has been quite a month. My mind and my heart have been twisted and wrenched and torn to pieces and it feels like they're being held together by chewing gum and duct tape.
I've said it before, here and elsewhere...I suck at communicating verbally. That's why i write. Anyone who thinks that's a weak excuse should spend a day in my head and see how well they handle it. If they can walk away in one piece. Not that I think my mind is sooo complex that no one could possibly handle it. That would just be arrogant (wink). It's just really messy in there and the maid tends to just sweep things under rug. I fired her a long time ago but she keeps sneaking back in and moving shit around without telling me. I think she's been stealing things too...

What can you say to or about someone that you care for deeply but you know you can't keep for one reason or another? Keep isn't the right word really but I think you know what I mean (I'm certainly not the possessive type).
No matter what you say or do, you know that it won't change the way things are. You know the saying, 'the heart wants what the heart wants' or something like that, what if the heart wants something that the soul knows will hurt the heart (yours or someone else's)? To the extent that you want your heart to stop, figuratively...or sometimes literally just to stem the flow of shit that is sure to follow.
That being said, what's the point of asking questions that have no answer? Why bother probing a bottomless pit?
I guess the answer to the initial questions is simple now that I think of it. What do you tell someone that you care for deeply about how you feel? The truth.


The truth hurts blah blah blah, we all know that. The truth is often an ugly monster that can not be stopped or caged. Best to set it free, let it rampage and do its damage and wait till it's done so you can pick up the debris.
To add another cute little cliché to this rant "fucked if you do, fucked if you don't". Bah!

Today I am dealing with loss. A loss that hurts more than I care to admit to myself.
This loss involves freedom, not just mine, so I know in the long run there will be healing and strength...for now...i want to cry. Yeah, I said it, so what, you wanna fight about it?
I just want it to stop. Maybe I'll just go to Winnipeg and give french lessons, I hear they've got great weather these days. Honestly.

Time to go kids. REM is playing in my head and I'm starting to feel like a bit of a pussy.

Merry Keith-Mas!!!

Happy happy, merry merry.
It already feels like so long ago. The holidays just flew by. At the time it seemed like things were moving at a nice, leisurely pace but in hindsight it feels like a dream almost. Strange how memories can't retain the linear time thing. But I digress.
I had a great time in Montreal for Christmas, or Keith-Mas as I now refer to it. I call it that in reference to Keith Richards of course.
In a sentence you could say: 'it was a very Keith Richards Christmas' or it was a great 'Keith-Mas'. See? A little explanation perhaps.
Instead of staying with Mom, who now lives in a nice little condo where I would be sleeping on the couch I opted instead to spend my time at The Ritz. Picture getting a little clearer? Needless to say I took full advantage and lived it up like Keith mother fuckin Richards!!! Well, not quite but not too far off either. No dialysis required.
I still managed to slip in some relatively sober quality time with the fam.
My love for Montreal tends to wax and wane depending on my mood and sometimes on the political climate there but the weather was sooo nice and there were people everywhere, happily speaking French AND English with none of the typical evil eye shit that I was used to when I lived there. It killed me to come back to Toronto after my 4 days there. I walked around the city and parks, partied with old friends, hung out with my mom. It felt like home again. Someday I will make the move back there,open a greasy hot dog & fries joint and grow the biggest, baddest, poutine stained pepper-stach yous ever seen. Yeehaw!

Almost there

We're finally getting close to the holidays and I can't wait. It has nothing to do with Christmas or New Years or the holiday season. What I'm looking forward to is the time off, the down time if you will. I'll be going home to Montreal, hanging out with family then chilling for 4 nights at the Ritz. True story.
Nothing to do but live the sweet life for 4 days and I can't wait.
Until then I am preparing for the show on Friday at the ElMo. Can't wait for that either. Last blowout of the year with the band.

Nice to see some proper snow on the ground. It's an excuse to tolerate the cold.
Plus, dogs love it. I ran in to a dog sled trainer on my way to a wolf sanctuary in Haliburton, ON a couple of weeks ago. Got some sweet pics.










Off to practice.

Framing 101

I used to think I had a pretty good grasp of photography. I don't know anything about technique, theory or intricate lighting but I can frame a shot pretty well and this has been confirmed by people that have no vested interest in flattering me. True story.
For example.....



Magnifique!!!!

Or.....



Wow!

Just a thought

I had a particularly frustrating trip home from work the other day. I use public transit as many people do and I'm sure those of you who do will agree that there are days where it seems everyone around you just might be the dumbest person alive. That thought crosses my mind often. This feeling is usually compounded after a particularly rough day at work and this was one of those days.
Maybe a day of dealing with assholes & stress makes you more sensitive to the minor stupidities of the general public?
The whole idea of a "herd" mentality, in my opinion has some validity. Next time you are on the subway, watch the people as they enter or exit the train and watch for that 'stunned' look on their faces. Sort of seems like they just came out of a coma and have no clue where they are or what they're doing but as long as they huddle close to the others they'll be ok.
Then there are the ones who seem to be more or less coherent and lucid but they lumber around as though they are completely alone. They'll box you in a corner, whack you with a bag or backpack, burp, fart whatever. Oblivious to their surroundings.
Well. My thought was this: If you took all of these people and isolated them, say on an island somewhere. Would they eventually devolve? I don't think devolve is actually a word. You can't evolve backwards but can you evolve full circle?
Would this wonderful island eventually be populated by primates? The culmination of breeding and reduced mental capacity defying the forward momentum of human evolution? A place where they can embrace their regressive genes and say FUCK YOU EVOLUTIONARY ADAPTATION!in their weird monkey language as they fling poo at each other.
I say yes.
That is all.

Wow...that's a long one!

First tour in the UK!

We can now say that we are officially an international band. How sweet it is. So much to say, so many stories, some appropriate, others not so much. I’ll try to keep it concise and to the point but you’ll have to suffer the odd rambling tangent dear friends.

Things kicked off with our showcase at the Cobden Club (www.cobdenclub.co.uk) as part of the London Calling Festival which is similar to our Canadian Music Week or NXNE. Sound check was dodgy. It was an acoustic set so there was no backline of equipment (i.e. drum kit) so Paul had to make due by fashioning his cymbal case and kick pedal box into a functional kit. Amazingly it worked out. Never has anyone seen or heard a mic’d plastic roller cymbal case being used as a kick drum, I’m pretty sure of that. We were last in the lineup so unfortunately most people went to the upstairs room to watch Nizlopi (www.myspace.com/nizlopi) however the show went well. Good response from industry types.

So with a bit of a shaky start we were feeling the pressure to really blow the roof off at the next show…Barfly. Now I should preface this by saying that Barfly (www.barflyclub.com/camden/whatson/WhatsOn.aspx) , as we had been informed by others who have played or aspire to play there someday, it’s THE place to play in London. Other than Royal Albert Hall or Earls Court…that’s for the next tour.
So with anticipation and adrenaline coursing through our veins we make our way there. Barfly is in Camden which is like Toronto’s Kensington Market only much bigger and much cooler. Sorry but it’s true. The venue itself is surprisingly small. We had the honour of headlining the evening’s lineup, unsure if the heaving crowd would disperse by the time we got up. Luckily when it was our turn to set up the room was absolutely jammed. Elbow to elbow, shoulder to shoulder. Getting a drink was an exercise in extreme patience.
We had been warned about English crowds being…less than receptive so we harnessed our rock ‘n roll spirits into a collective energy that we then mercilessly unleashed on the unsuspecting gaggle of otherwise disinterested Brits (+ 1 American, sorry dude).
The result still makes my arm hair stand on end. Forgive me for saying so but we kicked the SHIT out of that set. By the time we were done we had everyone in the room begging for more. Fists were pumping, heads were jumping, babies were crying, it was incredible.
You know how they say some things are better than sex; well this might be one of those times. It was UNREAL, right Johnny?

The following day was our first day off so the requisite walk about and sight seeing, sort of, was the order of the day. Which of course lead to pints, pints, pints and more pints.
It’s amazing how easy it is to make new friends when you are a band from Canada with a stack of flyers to hand out and a stomach full of liquid courage. Usually within an hour of being in any given club or pub we were chatting and laughing with everyone in the joint. Oh the laughs. Pretty much the only exercise we got the whole time.
The following day we were off to Birmingham. Two hours drive in a packed car with hangovers and sketchy directions = no fun.

The venue itself, Madhouse (www.madhouserehearsals.com), is actually a rehearsal/recording studio with a pub built in upstairs. This was a far cry from the Barfly vibe however the people there were just fantastic, thanks Roy & Jaci. I still want you to adopt me.
It’s always a little nerve wracking to play in front of a room full of musicians and industry veterans but the feedback we received when we were done was far more than we could have anticipated. Even Marty, the mad Celturian (www.myspace.com/thecelturian) had nothing but good things to say. Let me tell you, as a guitar player, praise from this guy is nothing to sneeze at.

So this is where things start getting squirrelly. It’s only been 4 days into a 14 day tour and the tolerance levels are dwindling. It was apparent in everyone’s demeanor and understandably so. You get boxed in with any 5 individuals for any length of time and it’s bound to happen. Once we got back to London we all had a bit of “me” time and then we got right back on track.

Who’s heard of myspace? Well of course you have. Before we left for London, we frantically tried contacting anyone and everyone in the UK through myspace looking for friends and contacts. This is how we met the lovely and beautiful Sasha. We found her and then she invited us to a photo shoot for a rock band calendar after checking out our myspace page. We went to the studio in the Kings Cross area and were invited to stand in a wading pool for the shoot. It will look way cooler than it sounds. Trust me.
Sasha and the crew: Denee, Harry, Jens, Mia… turned out to be the most wonderful cast of misfit angels we’ve had the good fortune to meet. After the shoot we convinced them to take us out for drinks. At this point we had developed an undeniable ability to convince anyone to join us for “a” drink. This in turn turned into the most… adult themed night on the tour. Details available upon request…maybe….not likely.
No one got hurt or broke any serious laws so don’t get too excited.

The next show was at The Grey Horse in Kingston. Apparently the Rolling Stones used to play there back in the day. Different is the only word that comes to mind for that show. Again, nothing but great feedback from the crowd, sold some cd’s, made some more friends. Next!

July 5th: Lark in the Park (http://www.larkinthepark.co.uk), cool spot. As usual we had to approach the other bands to ask if we could use their gear. The logistics of dragging our own shit overseas was not in the budget. We ended up using The Sam I Am’s (same name, different band) gear. This band is seriously worth checking out (www.myspace.com/thesamiammusic). Personally, they blew my fucking mind.
Cheers Daryl, thanks for the amp.

We had the closing slot. Which worked because most pubs close around midnight?
I think it’s the first time we’ve ever had a dance “pit” at a show.
Great feedback, more friends.

Off to Scotland! I really want to skip this part, simply because the memories are so acidic. Once we got there it was awesome…quite literally. Trying to get there…not so much. I’ll just do it in point form:
• Wake up late = panic
• Dead stop traffic = rage
• Cab ride = $$$
• Missed flight = tears + $$$
• Next flight = $$$
• Baggage too heavy = $$$
• Sock story = hysterical laughter


At this point there have been 2 bomb incidences in London and 1 shit show of an attack on a Glasgow airport. We wait for our ride while watching giant men strapped with 3 Glocks and carrying fully automatic machine guns patrolling the airport, even scanning traffic on the side of the road, on the way to the airport. It weighs on the paranoia.

Peebles. Such a beautiful little countryside town filled with the craziest bunch of drunk bastards I’ve ever met. I love you all. Chris, thanks for the hospitality. Keep whaling, you’ve got serious talent. We jammed with Chris a fair bit while we were there. This guys voice will blow your hair back (www.strangebrewrock.co.uk/current-news.shtml). Davey thanks for the ride and for being you.
Never have I seen such a large group of people with such an overwhelming appreciation for getting pissed. It didn’t take long for us to be accepted into the fold.
The gig was at the Peebles Rugby Club. Kevin, as you may or may not know used to live in Peebles playing rugby. Hence the reason we played a gig in a rugby club.
Shear madness is really the most appropriate description. I love Peebles!

The days turned into nights…from what I can remember. Then it was off to Edinburgh.
Ah Edinburgh. Those of you who have seen it know what I speak of. Those who have not are missing out on one of the most beautiful cities in the world. What a place. For the first time since we landed in the UK the clouds parted and the sun came out to say hello.
I’m still in awe. The people, the scenery…the pints. Oh so sweet.
We met some American marines, some demure Spaniards and of course the Peebles contingent were there.

The club we played is called Whistle Binkies (www.whistlebinkies.com) , which is, apparently, the premiere live music venue in Edinburgh. Paul and I popped in for a few pints earlier in the day after he found out he got canned from his job back home. Then more of the usual, ‘one more?…why not’.
Then…the RAGE set in. Just as a side note. If any of you are in a position to fire someone else. Don’t do it by email. It’s just not cool.

Once again, the show went well. Except for the part when my gear stopped working, which is still a mystery I might add. My pedals just stopped working, the batteries were fresh everything else seemed to work fine. So I’ll just chalk that one up to ghosts.
The soundman there was chatting with us after the show and was kind enough to point out that we had been paying full price for drinks like suckers. So from that point on it was double Jack & Cokes for a pound. That’s right.
So our last night in Scotland went down in style and blazing glory. More great feedback, more friends and tons of awesome memories.

The next day we enjoyed a few more of the sites and reluctantly began our journey home.
After one last reaming by Easy Jet for our overweight luggage we landed at Luton airport at 11pm. Then we took a bus to Heathrow and had 12 wonderful hours of constantly interrupted sleep on the floor of the terminal before our departure at 8am.

That’s the tour in one great big, longwinded nutshell. Hope you all enjoyed. We hope to be able to do it again very soon.