“Belle and Sebastian are not snogging. Sometimes they hold hands, but that is only a display of public solidarity. Sebastian thinks Belle ‘kicks with the other foot’. Sebastian is wrong, but then Sebastian can never see further than the next tragic ballad. It is lucky that Belle had a popular taste in music. She is the cheese to his dill pickle.” – Jeepster.
It’s just sort of dawned on me that I’m going to see Belle and Sebastian tonight with the New Pornographers opening up. I kind of want to go to the bathroom and rub myself. Something had to fill the gaping void that Big Country left in my life. My new camera will be making the trip (to the concert, not the bathroom), as will Nate, Tom, Janet etc – and I’ll be sure to post some wacky related concert photos tomorrow.
I started listening to this band in early 1998 while I lived in England. Moynihan reccomended them to me over this new technology we’d discovered called e-mail. I ran down to HMV in Maidenhead and picked up the then just released ‘The Boy With the Arab Strap’ before quickly moving on to ‘Tigermilk‘. That CD would go on to join the Verve’s Urban Hymns as the Hinds Head lockin CD, and it was a glorious time to be a 24-year-old. Pisshead.
My excitement over this band has been somewhat muted by age and time, but 7 years ago I would have burned off my own pubic hair with a magnifying glass to get a ticket. I have to get in touch with that young fanboy lad tonight and properly soak in the magnitude of the moment. But definitely try and talk him out of the whole pubic hair thing.
I’ve felt like I’ve hit a plateau lately. Head first from about 20 feet in the air. Dropped by the ankles. If I were a pool of water, I’d be so stagnant there’d be more tadpoles swimming around in me than in Paris Hilton’s hair. Things can go from so exciting, to so stressful and stupid, so very quickly. Something big is about to happen – I’m just not sure what it is yet. And then there’s that little thing called perspective that comes knocking…
But if I may be allowed to put down my own violin for a moment, my mother called me yesterday to let me know that her post-chemo tests are completely negative. She had a long painful summer, the extent of which I cannot imagine. Although I keep this site fairly impersonal, I know there’s a lot of readers who will want to hear that news. Way to go, Mom. We love you. And I’m not just saying this because I’m moving into the trailer with you next week.
I have had penne with vodka sauce a few times recently here in the North End. Last night at Assagio’s, for example. It’s gosh darn tasty, and I found myself wondering what the heck it actually is after a few forkfulls. It doesn’t sound especially good. I mean, vodka’s great and everything, but in your red sauce? Here’s what I discovered…
Apparently it’s quite common. I found a ton of recipies – ranging from ham to salmon – and it’s no misnomer. You actually have to fire in a whack of vodka while you’re reducing the sauce. Usually 1-2 ounces. It’s usually creamy, and always ridiculously tasty. Did Russian troops occupy Italy at the end of WWII and run out of chicken stock? I simply don’t know.
The Sopranos DVDs are some of the best selling in history, so it’s only fitting that I build a lens around them and make a play for some affiliate revenue. Actually, it was my coworker Sean who suggested it over a pint at the PushCart last night. I went home and built the Bada Bing, and it’s one of my best yet, if I do say so myself. I might as well – no one else is going to. I’m really running the risk at this point of never sleeping with a woman again, and believe me, friends – I fully realize this.
Again, I’m not so much bragging about the fact that I make websites so much as I’m trying to get new sites indexed by search engines. I have more spiders crawling on this site than William Shatner at the end of that really creepy movie I hope I never accidentally find on TV and watch all the way through again. Is that better than the River Phoenix joke from last week? Or just a little more tasteful?
I’m going for a steak tonight, and I’m excited. Why do you people read this fucking thing?
“This is a success story that is unique unto itself, its country, and most definitely its band“. – Matt Sheardown.
Yes, I know it’s Friday. Many of you have have read me rant about this band over the years, and I’ve even dragged a few of you to their concerts with me. I wrote a decent piece about Gord Downie a few years ago, which is down for some reason – I’ll have to repost it from my desktop backup at home – but this article that Nate just sent me is truly amazing. It’s a comprehensive history of the band, written with painstaking detail and a lot of love.
“The music, though consistently solid, only tells us half the story of The Tragically Hip. Bands rarely become legends on music alone: The Beatles had LSD and Yoko Ono, The Stones had Keith Richards and Altamont, Nirvana had suicide and MTV Unplugged, and so on and so forth. The Tragically Hip have Gord Downie, and because of Gord Downie, The Tragically Hip have one of the most memorable live performance reputations this side of the 49th parallel. Sure, the sound is spot on, and the instruments rarely miss a step, but you can only hear them. The show isnâ€™t in the instruments.”
The article’s author, Matt Sheardown, goes on to explicate his favorite Hip songs at the end of the article, and chooses 1994’s Nautical Disaster to bestow the following praise: For my money, the single greatest song the band has ever made. The lyrics are sung paragraphs, and the memories they drum up are so vivid in their unsettling nature. Brilliant from start to finish. Since Matt’s article inspired me to feature the Tragically Hip this week, I figured I’d abide by his opinion and use his favorite tune.
The Hip are proponents of all things Canadian, and their lyrics and themes often delve into obscure references that only select senior citizens in Manitoba may ‘get’ – but are important and fascinating all the same. Hip concerts around the world are flocked to by ex-pats, and they could sell out the largest venue in Toronto more nights in a row than any major act going. I’m talking to you, Jagger. Nautical Disaster is a great example of Hip Canadiana:
Few believe that the song is about a single theme, but it seems that one theme may be about the raid on Dieppe during World War II. Dieppe was a daylight, pre-D-day raid of a German held port on the coast of France. In the assault, carried out by Canadian troops, nearly 4000 men were killed out of a force of about 4800. The lyrics to “Nautical Disaster” are extremely close to these facts. Gord Downie himself has alluded to the fact that the song is one long metaphor for a failed relationship, but the literal meaning has ties to Dieppe.”
I normally introduce people to the Hip via Bobcaygeon or The Darkest One, but Nautical Disaster is definitely in the top three somewhere. It is reminiscent of Gordon Lightfoot’s The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald in it’s imagery. It also reminds me of the scene in Jaws where Quint is describing what it was like to be on the U.S.S. Indianapolis when it was sunk: “So, eleven hundred men went in the water, three hundred and sixteen men come out, the sharks ttook the rest, June the 29, 1945. Anyway, we delivered the bomb.” Tragedies at sea. For my female readers (unveiled sexism) – picture the end of Titanic.
From the first line of the song, you know you’re in for something quite horrible: “I had this dream where I relished the fray, and the screaming filled my head all day.” It starts slow and builds to the line everyone loves to scream at shows “…off the coast of France, dear!” before it kicks into high gear. Have a listen for yourself by clicking on Radio Pye in the left column, and you can read some great fan explication here.
The play rehearsals have increased to twice a week, and I’ll even be at Knights of Columbus Saturday afternoon painting the set with the rest of the cast. It’s being built there and then moved over to the Improv Asylum towards the performance dates. I have been enjoying the experience, even becoming enough of a primadonna to actually try and change my lines to ones I think are better suited to my character (who you’ll remember is a stupid plot-device cop with about 10 of them). Next thing you know, I’ll be asking what my motivation is and blathering away naked in a dark room like Brando. Actually, I guess that’s fairly unlikely. The blathering part.
We’ve taken on 4 new clients in the last two weeks at my real job, and although I’m excited by this, I don’t know where I’m going to dredge up the time to handle it all. I have a lot to learn about Exchange servers, skateboards and lobby security software – and precious few waking hours in which to do so. The other actors have told me to learn my cues and try to thread conversations together. Maybe I can do the same here at work, and pretend I’m setting off a building alarm which is powered by a server because I did a Frontside 180 Powerslide through reception.
And then GoonBlog got mentioned in the frigging New York Times. They require you to register and login, so I’ve posted the best part of the article over at GB for easy reference. Big congratulations to my not-so-secret GB partner in crime, and PITF favorite, Detroit Velvet Smooth who does the majority of the writing and heavy lifting over there. You’re famous, you bastard.
And a massive tool! Regardless, I am being interviewed by Squidoo and featured as a leading Lensmaster. I think I am currently #6 or #7 out of a few thousand. I am getting emails out of the blue from marketing professionals from all over the world, and I want to strip naked to the waist and rub Squidoo all over my chest right now. Anybody look familiar?:
Click here to see my profile and lengthening list of lenses. And this is my personal lens. I will let you know when the interview is live, and I’m going to try and make it funny without scaring off all of my new potential collaborators. I am such a nerd, I am actually steaming right now. I’m a nerd. But I know I’m a nerd. And that almost makes me cool.
Well raise my rent. Or the roof. Who ever thought you’d see a title like that here on PITF? Unfortunately, Gary Puppa is in most of the photos too. For example – please marvel as Fat Joe (aka Joey Crack) represents with Gary (aka Gazza, aka Hairdoo) backstage at the Toyota Center in Houston. Gary obviously taught him how to throw up Burlington crips signs, and the publicity will undoubtedly lead to scores of wannabe Eminem fist fights in front of Emma’s Back Porch.
Anyway, Puppa – most recently of the dispicable and sacreligious Christmas Eve in Toronto fame – owns a pretty cool company which allows him to work for the NBA. You may remember three years ago when he was snapped bothering Beyonce. Then there was the time Nikki Hilton tried to goose him behind one of the beer carts. And how can I forget that party where Saget tried to scoop Pupp’s peeler? Always the trooper, he was back again this year, and he’s sent me a gallery‘s worth of new hip-hopping-hob-knobbing pics. Also of note, Gazza mugging with DMC and Mike Jones.
I want to quickly point out that Gary actually asked me to go with him, and I want to give him a quick shout-out and thanks. Houston is like my second home. If Joey Crack and I didn’t currently have mad beef, I would have been there with Timberlands on. And what’s up with Ronald McDonald? I thought Chris Penn died last month. Also in attendance – Nelly, George Clinton and you’ll even see Ice Cube messin’ around and gettin’ a triple-double. Peep dis.
Alright so I’m trying to get another Squidoo lens spidered. So what? I’ve been working on this one a lot – chock full o’ content and probably one of the biggest lenses out there. So please have a look at my new Red Sox Tickets page. Then rub yourself. Repeat.
It’s shaping up to be a nice little weekend. A few laughs with the coworkers tonight, and a party at the Shit Disturber’s in Charlestown tomorrow. And I’m sure you can guess what I’ll be filling the rest of the time with. That’s right – furious Squidoo lens building. I have a problem.
Maxim has just released a “Greatest Drinkers of all time list, and I thoroughly endorse their choices. “E.T. is No. 9 on the list, while Bluto (John Belushi) from “Animal House” is one spot ahead of him.” Blutowski is an obvious choice, but how many of us would have considered the scene from E.T. where he sneaks downstairs and drinks the shit out of a case of beer, causing poor Elliot to experience the same buzz while he’s at school? He kisses the young girl, lets the frogs loose, gets an OUI on his Big Wheel, beats a homeless person to death, etc.
But it gets better, deeper, liquorder: “Other top movie drinkers include The Waco Kid (Gene Wilder) from “Blazing Saddles, who comes in just ahead of the McKenzie Brothers (Rick Moranis and Dave Thomas) in “Strange Brew,” and just behind Coach Buttermaker (Walter Matthau) of “The Bad News Bears.” Kudos for remembering the Waco kid and the McKenzie’s. The list just became bloggable.
But where the heck is Arthur, I asked myself. At #2, of course. And the #1 movie booze bag of all time? Frank the Tank. I think Arthur should have won the top spot, hands down. But still a well complied and humorous little collection of souses.