Editor’s Note: I fully realize that posting email forwards on your blog is the height of laziness – but this is profound and I have to share.

bratty-teenage-girlA little over halfway through my 30s it’s only natural that nostalgia, mortality and violent curmudgeonliness are setting in – which is probably why I’m drawn to these thoughts on how not all “progress” is… actually any sort of progress. I’ve edited this for length and into a list format which also deep-sixes some religious content. And I removed several negative references to movies, cable TV and video games – because that’s just fucking crazy talk. Apologies to the original author, but if you’re that annoyed are you any different from the whiny, lazy and entitled gluttons your original work indirectly bemoans? Let’s get down to the reminiscing…

To Those of Us Born Before 1980

  • First, we survived being born to mothers who may have smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant. They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn’t get tested for diabetes.
  • We were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-based paints. We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets and when we rode our bikes we had baseball caps, not helmets, on our heads.
  • As infants and children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, no booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes. Riding in the back of a pick- up truck on a warm day was always a special treat.
  • We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle. We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and no one actually died from this.
  • We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter, and bacon. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. And we weren’t overweight. Why? Because we were always outside playing!


“And This is What We Call Progress”–by Montreal’s The Besnard Lakes

  • We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on. No one was able to reach us all day. And we were OK.
  • We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride them down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes.. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem.
  • We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth – and there were no lawsuits from those accidents..
  • We would get spankings with wooden spoons, switches, ping-pong paddles, or just a bare hand, and no one would call child services to report abuse.
  • Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn’t had to learn to deal with disappointment.
  • The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. In fact, they usually sided with the police.
  • These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers, and inventors ever. The past 50 to 85 years have seen an explosion of innovation and new ideas.
  • We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.

What did you think? Seems thematically appropriate after my recent Chris Brown-related “what’s wrong with kids today?!” post [chases lost, crying infant off front lawn while wearing sandals with socks]. Should we wind the clock back on a few of these points? I look forward to your thoughts.


Preface: I’m not as mad at Chris Brown for beating the living daylights out of Rhianna as I am because he’s acting like it was no big deal and should be forgiven simply because 2 entire years have passed. That is a long time when you think about it. Maybe she was attacked by a Pterodactyl.


Chris Brown is sorta-talented, in a “Michael Jackson’s corpse isn’t even cold yet” kinda way. I’d give credit if credit were due – his recent SNL performances made me long for Sinead O’Connor’s pope-tearing technique. There’s a big talent pool out there and he’s no big whoop. It must suck when you lay low for a couple of years and no one even notices. Although I’m sure his P.O. was proud of him.

pterodactyl_fncarHe’s also in possession of the humility of a peacock and definitely in serious denial as to the seriousness of the physical attack he launched on Rhianna. He’s not ducking half-assed domestic violence accusations from an unknown forlorn lover who hasn’t got the pictures to prove it. He beat one of the biggest stars in the world like she was a red-headed step child. A red-headed stepchild who’d just set fire to his Michael Jackson CD collection. His little episode at the Good Morning America studios today speaks volumes about Brown’s weak, narcissistic character and I absolutely cannot believe how well his album is selling (Currently #1 in iTunes). How soon we forget, people…

Exhibit A: Some randomly selected tweets from this evening:


Leave him alone? Who are we to judge? I’ll answer those questions with a question: What fucking planet are you kids on? I was speechless even before I realized that the vast majority of Tweets in support of Brown come from women – albeit young ones. And let’s not overlook the other above gem, “…that bitch provoked a lot of what happened.” That statement scares the heck out of me. Future of America, do you need a wee refresher?:


This isn’t even the worst of the photos, but I’m sure you’ve all seen them. Actually, after my little sojourn on Twitter tonight – I’m not sure at all. What the fuck is going on right now?

mitch-green-eyeIn my younger days I was jumped, kicked and beaten unconscious by a bunch of jerks at a party (in the interests of full disclosure, I might have knocked out their “leader” first) – and I looked better than Rhianna did after her final car ride with Brown. Remember when Mike Tyson punched Mitch Green, bare-knuckled, back in 1988? Ever see that picture? The damage to the man’s face is so bad it’s almost revolting – but it still seems like nothing when compared to Brown’s inflictions. By the way, that’s Mitch Green on the left. Not me. It’s OK. I get that a lot.

You’d think Brown’s record label would have a veritable army of publicists and temper coaches following this juvenile clown around. They mustn’t, however, because I’m sure that “frightening female staffers to the point they call security, ripping off one’s shirt and then smashing a dressing room window sending huge shards to the sidewalk below” probably aren’t featured tactics in the arsenal of many PR firms who have a client they’re trying to make the public at large forget is a merciless woman-beater [takes a deep breath]. I wish the youth of America had a memory as long as that sentence. At least I can take a little solace in this guy:


There are two types of men in this world, Chris. Those who hit women and those who don’t. You’ll likely be haunted by this to some degree for the rest of your life. You screwed up, big time, and showed the irrationally forgiving world what you’re capable of. I hope ABC bans you from their building after your little hissy fit today and cancels your scheduled appearance on DWTS next week. If the tantrums continue may many other networks/shows do the same. Resume the low-laying at your nearest possible convenience.

You have one hope… one option if you’re ever to be taken seriously again or redeemed in the eyes of anyone old enough to vote. And that is to simply answer people’s questions and accept responsibility for what you did for as long as it takes popular culture to let you off the hook (and apparently many already have). Someone else will batter the teeth out of their unfortunate girlfriend’s superstar face and the media will forget all about you. In the meantime, show a little humility. At the very least leave your shirt on, Bruce Banner.

What a strange story and stranger world we live in. Do you agree with my reluctance to simply forget about the violent actions of this this hugely influential role model? Or are you on Team Brown? Believe me when I say – I’d love to hear you explain why he should be forgiven so quickly and in spite of the fact he shows no signs of changing his violent, hair-trigger ways. Fascinated. Fire away. Just don’t hit any girls while you’re at it.


Let’s Immortalize RoboCop

by Dave on March 3, 2011

in Movies

There’s always time during a busy day to help endorse a proposed plan to build a statue memorializing the main character of an uber-violent sci-fi movie I saw in a theater my Dad snuck me into in 1987. Always.

This video starring the law-enforcing cyborg himself, Peter Weller, is a slap-happy, nutty goof. The proposed plan to build a statue of RoboCop somewhere in downtown Detroit (where the truly awesome film and it’s far less awesome sequel are set) is not. Initially the Mayor said “no”. Then a surprising number of citizens countered with a resounding “yes”. Then a local businessman took it upon himself to raise $50,000 fricking dollars to see Officer Murphy’s titanium-encased remains immortalized for all time.

With both a healthy budget and positive public opinion behind the idea, which apparently started as a silly-natured Tweet, it’s not up to Mayor Bing anymore. But let’s get back to that businessman for a moment. I’ve since learned via his website, which just happens to be named after the evil corporation which first funds but eventually tries to kill Robocop in the film, that it isn’t his first foray into movie tie-ins.

”What did you do, Ray?!” – Dr. Peter Venkman

Also in Omni’s repertoire of phony products from movies made into the real thing for real world consumers?:

  • Stay Puft Marshmallows from Ghostbusters. Try not to think about them when facing a Gatekeeper of Gozer.
  • Brawndo Energy Drink from Mike Judge’s unsung Idiocracy.
  • Tru Blood beverage from HBO’s True Blood. In case that wasn’t abundantly clear.
  • Sex Panther cologne made famous, of course, by Mr. Brian Fantana in the modern comedy classic, Anchorman.

At first glance, raising money to build a statue of Robocop seems like Pete Hottelet’s nerdtastic labor of love. As I’m sure you’ve realized by now it’s also a brilliant viral marketing scheme. This probably isn’t the first you’ve heard of the statue – it’s been getting a ton of press over the last few weeks and I hope it happens. Because you can’t deny that fact that this actual prototype exudes class…

"Sign the petition or there’ll be… trouble."

It’s breathtaking, and I’d definitely buy that for a dollar. Though I can’t picture something like this happening in too many other cities – take Boston, for example. No matter how enthusiastically people tried to sell it to the population as “art” it would fly about as far as one of those bronze ducklings. But we’re talking about Detroit here. A place where statues of fictional robotic peace officers, lesser-known Norwegian superheroes and maybe even one (possibly all four) of the Teletubbies will almost certainly raise property values. I don’t have anything against Detroit… I’ve just seen pictures. And that picture was 8 Mile.


This is one of the best tunes I’ve ever heard. Period. I absolutely love it. It has been on my “must blog” list since the first time I came across it 6 months ago. Lack of the baseline for more than a week sends me into a sweaty withdrawal and the late-arriving chorus is sung aloud in my house on a daily basis. My appreciation is so all-encompassing that I almost feel like further explanation isn’t necessary. Get the picture? I’ll put my pants back on. Just listen…

It’s Not Meant to Be, the opening track, has son-of-Stone Roses written over its sun-dappled, almost drawling psychedelia that lolls about and lets the whammy-bar guitar prod its warm form. This is an afternoon song. – Sydney Morning Herald

Quite possibly the best Australian song, ever.

Tame Impala hail from Perth, Australia. They’re a brash young bunch of longhairs and the remarkable music they produce in between fish bowling studio booths is commonly called “psychedelic” or “trippy”. People used to say that the Madchester music scene of the late eighties/early nineties was trippy, but that was largely due to the Everest-sized mountain of drugs everyone was taking. This is a different animal. This is… an Impala.

Were you alone in a dark room with lead singer Kevin Parker, and you asked him to sing, and he could actually oblige because a ballgag wasn’t also part of your weird little fantasy – you’d think you were sitting beside… Let me start over: he sounds exactly like John Lennon. He’s not trying to, so it shouldn’t ruin the experience… Just be forewarned. It’s really just a pleasant coincidence considering the Beatles’ own hallucinogenic get-the-spiders-off-me phase produced their best work.

imageEmo Hoodoo Gurus

Their debut album, Innerspeaker, is full of gems and was apparently recorded in a shed several hours outside of Perth. Although “It’s Not Meant to Be” is still my favorite, it was also a gateway to “I Don’t Really Mind”, “Solitude is Bliss” and “Make Up Your Mind”. Do these boys ever love singing about minds. And using contractions.

"Innerspeaker" is what The Beatles would sound like if they took EVEN MORE drugs with a dash of Led Zeppelin and Cream. The albums nostalgic lo-fi spaced out psychedelia, while nothing groundbreaking, does a lot of things pitch-perfectly right. – SputnikMusic.com

I have linked the aforementioned songs to YouTube videos for your easy and free listening. I’ll be in attendance when they play Toronto on May 1st and I can’t say enough good things about this record. Let’s hope they stick around a little longer than Silverchair.

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I’m Calling Kutcherbusters

by Dave on February 22, 2011

in Movies,Nerdery

Friends, Romans, countrymen. Listen to me very carefully. I was just directed towards a truly awful rumor by my favorite movie blog. Are you sitting down? I mean it. Take a seat, a deep breath and possibly a Xanax before reading any further.

Rumors of Ghostbusters 3 have been as persistent as rumors about the existence of actual ghosts. And now there’s evidence for an even scarier notion: Ashton Kutcher playing one of the leads.

We, as rational human beings and children of the 80s, can never let this happen. Never. Now, I’m not a radical, a bra-burner or one prone to protest. Until my mid-twenties, I thought that “activism” was the company who brought us Pitfall and River Raid. But I’ve got a petition on the brain. Petitions got Betty White on SNL, Jonathan Winters exposed to a new generation of unworthy fans and they can do wonders for a third ancient and long-suffering throwback – the Ghostbusters franchise. And by “do wonders” I of course mean “keep an already risky venture from becoming a guaranteed cinematic disaster the likes of Ishtar or Howard the Duck”.

Editor’s Note: I am a fan of both Ishtar and Howard the Duck. That doesn’t change the fact they shat the bed at the box office and are readily accepted by sheep who’ve never seen them as two of the worst movies of all time. Back to our regularly scheduled nerdery…

kutcherbustersI’m not going to try and act cool or pretend I’m kidding anyone who knows me. I’d love to see a new Ghostbusters film and I’ve even written about it before. It’s going to happen, with or without Bill Murray, and I do not want to see it fail. According to IMDB, some returning stars are already confirmed (Dan Aykroyd, Sigourney Weaver, Harold Ramis) and there are rumors of several exciting new additions (Bill Hader, Anna Faris). And, even though I’m disgusted, concerned and hyperventilating as a result of his Kutcher-related comments in the video above (as playful as they may have seemed), original director Ivan Reitman seems gung-ho for a return to Ghostly glory.

Mr. Reitman, please. Kutcher’s already demonstrated a penchant for dating marrying women dramatically older than himself. Don’t encourage him to whip out his proton pack and take it one sick step further. Busting ghosts might lead to banging them.

I’ll be watching this production carefully, folks. So you don’t have to. Because you have lives. Stay tuned for what might be my biggest topical dork-fest since the leadup to summer 2008’s return of a certain archaeologist. Dare to dream. Alone in bed.


nickandmaryMost reviews I’ve read of Don Lennon albums, or articles about the man himself, begin the same way – by comparing his sound to someone else. I get the Jonathan Richman references and I understand the inevitable likening to Stephin Merritt. I refute, however, the notion that Jens Lekman is an influence on Lennon – I’m quite certain it’s the other way around.

Maniac came out in 1997, 6 years before Lekman’s first EP. Don has maintained a strong Swedish following for over a decade. It doesn’t take Sam Spade to connect those dots. Where am I going with this… Released last week, Nick and Mary is Don’s 6th studio album and I pray the day will soon come when the music press stop obsessing over peripheral similarities and inaccurate influencers because they’re doing their readers a disservice. They’re denying them some Don.

More specifically, the incessant comparisons do little but downplay 15 years of consistently outstanding and unique output. You’re no longer coming off clever by discussing parallels to other musicians which have already been done to death. With a new album will come a new crop of reviews/articles and I pray this time around Don’s exceptional new album is judged on its merits and not its Merritts. See what I did there?

Nick and Mary is a double album featuring 24 songs in total. Although I’ve listened to it 4 times all the way through as of this writing, I feel like I’ve only scratched the surface. One of my early favorites is “Months”, and I put together a YouTube clip so you can enjoy it easily below. I do want to share amazing music with my readers. I do not wish to go to jail for hosting MP3s or have Don pissed at me. This seemed like a good compromise:

”The months, they freak us out.”

Fat-sounding guitar chords kick the song off rather suddenly and were what first caught my ear, helping me make the difficult choice of which of the 24 tunes to feature on Wadio. I could just have easily gone with Rats!, Naked in Public, Bedbugs or Kids at Pearl River Mart – the album is rich with Don’s amazing knack for the catchy, subtle humor, blissfully-jangly guitars and superior songcraft. This LP will be with me for a good long while.

Don’s equally impressive back catalogue is available on iTunes, and you can purchase Nick and Mary from DonLennon.com. Let me know what you think about this song and all things DL related in the comments.



“Don’t get me wrong – we’re thrilled. Just surprised. You do realize Justin Bieber’s not actually in Arcade Fire, right?”

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Nice to see you again, little Quizzlet. It’s been far too long. I’m making up my own questions this week. They’re deliberately crafted so I can cover a few topics on my mind which might not deserve an entire post. Please take a silly stab at them yourselves in the comments.

dave-kenzieAppetizer: How does it feel to be an Uncle?
Feel free to now think to yourselves, “Wait, THIS doesn’t deserve its own post, jerktard?” Relax. There’s no doubt in my mind that wee Bonnie Mackenzie will feature as prominently on my blog as she will in my life. I’m driving to Jay Peak this very afternoon for a little skiing and a whole whackload of doting. My camera is charging and you’ll be sorry that thought ever crossed your mind when you’re assailed by at least 7 baby videos on Monday. Oh for shame.

Soup: What movie should win the Oscar for Best Picture on the 27th?
I’ve now seen all the nominees except Toy Story 3. I bought it for my friend Mary’s kids but have heard it’s rude to open and watch a DVD before giving it to a child for Christmas. Regardless, at this time in our conversation I feel comfortable giving you my one/two-sentence opinions on the other 9 nominees in descending order of adoration:

  1. The Fighter: I loved this movie, can’t wait to see it again and sincerely hope that it wins. If you haven’t seen this yet, ask yourself, “why?” and then ‘speedbag’ your own breasts/ballsac.
  2. True Grit: I already knew every line of the original 1969 version but the Coens, Jeff Bridges and especially Hailee Steinfeld put thoroughly re-watchable (I’ve now seen it 3 times) fresh spins on the source novel.
  3. Winter’s Bone: The world desperately needed a redneck meth mystery and this one cooked up real good.
  4. The King’s Speech: The cast and director of my predicted winner did this amazing script proud while shedding light on a fascinating royal who’s been all but forgotten by history.
  5. Black Swan: No desire to see it again, didn’t exactly cry when it was over (although I did feel like taking a shower) but Portman deserves the nod for Best Actress.
  6. Inception: Definitely deserves the Oscar for Best Special Effects in a year full of standouts (ahem, Tron) but as a whole this embarrassingly overrated movie bored me. Shouldn’t be nominated in this category.
  7. The Social Network: Enjoyed Fincher’s work here as I always do – but I’m  tired of hearing about this flick and want it to go away.
  8. 127 Hours: Boyle and Franco made an impressive team but in a year already full of worthy contenders this nomination reeks of silly overstuffing as it has no chance of winning.
  9. The Kids are All Right: Gotta call it like I see it here – not that remarkable a film and more overstuffing directly related to Hollywood’s gay marriage fascination popular social themes. 

A quick note on what isn’t on the Academy’s list – I’m definitely not the only person who thinks that at least a couple of films on the above list should have been replaced with The Town. Affleck’s a bit of a douche but he’s definitely coming into his own behind the camera.

Salad: Did Gervais go too far at the Golden Globes?
Are you kidding, Quizzlet? He made watchable an obligatory, self-serving circle-jerk designed to appeal to the foreign press. Next year hold it in fucking Brussels. Any Hollywood heavyweight who shows up for an award show where The Tourist was nominated for best picture with a straight face deserves whatever Ricky dishes out. He’s one of the funniest humans alive and I have been a huge fan of his for over a decade now. Watch him tear Tinseltown’s elite a new one below…

Main Course: Which weekly TV series are you currently geeking-out over?
Glad you asked, Quizzlet. Season 2 of Justified starring Seth Bullock Timothy Olyphant started this week and rest assured that’s a very good thing. Better yet, grab yourself a jar of apple pie flavored moonshine and sit your damn self down in front of the TV next Wednesday at 10pm. But it’s not all redneck’s n’ roses – while one of my favorite new FX series got renewed, the woefully under-watched and underappreciated Terriers didn’t make it off the beach.

Time’s James Poniewozik ranked Terriers at #10 on his Top 10 List of television shows in 2010. The Daily Beast’s Jace Lacob selected the show as part of his top 10 shows of 2010. HitFix.com’s Alan Sepinwall ranked Terriers at #3 on his top 10 list for 2010 as well as #1 on his list of best new shows of 2010. The AV Club ranked it as their number 7 show of the year.

There’s no doubt in my mind FX knows how to market a new show. If I see one more promo for Lights Out or Archer I’ll probably start watching them (who am I kidding – I already do. FX shows rule). I think the network underestimated Terriers and the resulting lack of faith was reflected in the minimal advertising campaign. If there’s any good news, it’s that Terriers had a recurring plot arc which ran in one form or another through the entire 13 episode lifespan. That, coupled with the optimistic and open-ended finale, will make it quite enjoyable as a stand alone season. Seek out a torrent (shhh!) and I’ll post a link to the DVD if and when it’s released. Check out the awesome, cheeky little theme song below. We hardly knew ye.

Dessert: What is the airspeed velocity of a European swallow?
Enough already, Quizzlet. I have some work to finish up and still have to drive to Vermont today. I’ll see all you fresh-faced kids next week.


Documentaries are a huge love of mine and I find myself seeking them out more and more frequently. As a result I’m going to add a dedicated new category to the blog – Doc Squawk. Where I squawk about the docs, obviously. I may also chirp, bu-gock or even “review” them.

During my senior year of high school Oliver Stone conveniently created a major motion picture/biopic about classic rock band The Doors titled, intuitively enough, The Doors. Jim Morrison was played by Val Kilmer, John Densmore was played by an Entourage douche, Robby Krieger was played by a Pulp Fiction fruitcake and Ray Manzarek was emoted by a Twin Peaks twit. High-calibre director and actors equalled a solid flick overall. I thought that 20 years ago as a confused teenager – and still do.

“Faces come out of the rain? Who’d you buy this shit from?”

Although convinced I hated “classic rock” back in 1991 and spent almost all my time cooing about the Happy Mondays and Stone Roses, for some reason my group of friends and I were hell bent on seeing this movie. I remember the pre-flick “preparation” in the parking lot of the movie theater in Woburn, Massachusetts like it was yesterday. In fact, it’s amazing we were able to put one foot in front of the other long enough to have our tickets torn.

We came, we saw, we began listening to The Doors incessantly for the rest of the year. In fact, I distinctly remember creating mixtapes (of which I was a mass-producer) which contained both Doors tunes and the likes of Manchester masters like the aforementioned – plus perhaps Inspiral Carpets, The Farm and The Charlatans – all mixed together. And I remember why I did this. The Doors never had a bass player. The entire low end was provided by Manzarek’s awesome dual-keyboard adeptness. As organs were also a huge part of the “Madchester” music scene, the synergy was obvious to me at the time and I rest my zit-faced case.

I’ve retained my appreciation for the band over the last 20 years, well beyond the strange little pop culture fad I went through way back when. As a result, when I finally signed up for Netflix and hooked it up in the Man Cave via my PS3 last night, the first thing I watched was the recent documentary “When You’re Strange: A Film About The Doors ”. It’s full of first-hand footage the world has never seen before and there were many moments and mutterings I remembered (probably because I revisited it a couple of weeks ago) from Stone’s scripted movie. When Hollywood’s version was filmed said backstage/personal/home movie footage was available only to the likes of screenwriters and folks like Val Kilmer.


My point is, tons of the dialogue we see spoken in the documentary made it into the script of the biopic – and that realization enthralled the heck out of me. For example, I always had a hard time picturing Jimmy screaming, “You’re all a bunch of fuckin’ slaves, man!”, to thousands of people in Miami. I no longer have that problem. I really enjoyed and maybe even nerded-out a little over finally getting to see so much of what was source material for the film I’ve dug for such a long time now.

In short, loved it. Great insight (especially all the movie-like footage of Morrison being chased through the desert in a ‘68 Mustang – anyone know where and why that was filmed?) Fans of The Doors (movie, band etc.) have to seek it out. And in closing I’d just like to say… thank goodness my 17-year-old self never had access to peyote.


Monday’s Quotelet: Halftime Ho

by Dave on February 7, 2011

in Monday's Quotelet

Last night’s Superbowl halftime show left me speechless. Springsteen, McCartney, U2 – these are SB calibre performers. Whomever “booked the ‘Peas” should be looking for work today. I’m pretty sure that’s probably the exact phrase they use when describing it to their friends, too. I’m so beside myself I’m going to give y’all a little something to get started with and then let you run wild:

Not the biggest sports fan ever to grace a halftime stage, Fergie was asked why she brought a catcher’s mitt to a predominantly football-related event…

…and then you can insert your very own “plastic surgery” or “weathered vagina” joke. Today I’m just here to inspire.


I’ve been hearing about how good Deerhunter is for a couple of years now. Admittedly, a lot of the kudos was from Pitchfork, who routinely give 8/10s to dime-a-dozen Southern rappers and the side projects of hipster side projects – so I have learned to take their enthusiasm with a grain of obscure salt. My biggest reaction prior to finally listening to their latest album, Halcyon Digest, a week ago was to giggle and shout, “Mau!” I was ignorant, folks. Ignorant and so very, very wrong. Pass the revolver and make sure Mikey hasn’t drowned or been eaten by rats yet. How’s that for obscure?

The whole record is great. Standouts include “Helicopter”, “Revival” and “Coranado” – but the tune that has kept me completely obsessed, for a variety of reasons I’m about to get into (and for at least 50 listens to date), is the remarkable “Desire Lines”. Get stuck into it right now…

Homage or not, this song’s been added to my all-time favorites list.

It’s a beautiful, catchy song. Bradford Cox and company know how to write themselves a tune. And after you get through the first 4 lovely minutes, it shifts gear into another 4 minutes of equally listenable, lyric-less jamming. Here’s where I get especially turned on – the similarities of said 4-minute jam to the last 4 minutes of my favorite Pixies tune, also sans lyrics after a completely different sounding first half, are so striking that it absolutely has to be some sort of homage. That or an accident perpetrated by the Gods especially for me. You be the judge…

This Monkey’s Been to Heaven. And most likely Atlanta, Georgia.

Any way you slice it, “Desire Lines” uncanny resemblance to “No. 13 Baby” in no way detracts from my enjoyment of Deerhunter’s new classic. It is so rare that a song, let alone an entire LP, reaches out and grabs me like this that it absolutely had to be the first Wadio of 2011. I hope you like it and look forward to your comments. It’s gonna be a good year for music.


This isn’t simply another ill-conceived New Year’s resolution… because I’ve been trying to stop using these 3 particular English words for at least a couple of years now. So you know I must be very passionate about this verbal endeavour.

  1. Passionate:  Ask yourself – how many times have you heard someone use this word in the last 7 days? My point is, it’s become a very popular “go to” in the last 5 years or so. So popular in fact that it’s completely lost its power. In ancient times (late 1990’s) “Passionate” was a remarkable and seldom-used term reserved for the most special of situations. T’was a haymaker. Today, however, it sloppily proliferates every single resumé, “About Us” webpage and stupid reality television show you can name. In the course of a week I literally think I hear or read it a couple dozen times. I used to love it… but I have to kill it. “Why should you hire me to clean your yard once a week? Well, (chuckle), that’s simple. Because I’m passionate about separating dog shit from mulch.” 
  2. Really?: Note the question mark. And it’s usually preceded by “Pffft…” There’s nothing wrong with “really” nine out of ten times in normal conversation. I’m taking issue with it in a  specific context – namely, that context after which someone has said, proposed or done something you don’t approve of… and you have no better material or recourse than to simply utter “really?” in the most patronizing of fashions. It’s the crutch of the unimaginative. And recently it’s absolutely saturated popular culture. ”Let me get this straight. You want me to either give you a blood sample or exhale into a breathalyser. Really?”

    I’m talking to you, Seth & Amy.

  3. Interesting: See “Really?”

If every other sentence of your marketing material contains the word “passionate”, then I’m sorry if this post is troublesome or even pause for thought. These are my personal observations. However, if your greatest contribution to a smoky party discussion about healthcare is “interesting…” – be warned as I may strike you from somewhere within the dark. Levitate our lexicon, people. Or something.



by Dave on January 21, 2011

in Heartwarming,Musical

What better way to kickstart my long-overdue blogging rebirth than the announcement of a Pixies show in Ottawa? That news certainly shook the dust off my semi-dormant pop culture nerdery. Like a soon-to-be-incarcerated nanny. As did the first hand realization that the lack of a regular creative outlet sometimes leads to very dark places.

And how could I have gone two whole weeks without screaming from the rooftops about the birth of my gorgeous little niece? The rooftop in this case being www.DavePye.com aka www.PyeintheFace.com? The world is a much better place with you in it, little Bonnie MacKenzie Helem (“Kenzie” for short). Yes, she’s named after my beloved Mother so feel free to shed a few tears. Or pounds – it is January after all.

I just got a better idea. Why not combine the two topics via my trusty Photoshop installation and then title the whole thing with an obscure reference to an old Rat Pack film? It’s as good a rebirth as any I’ve seen recently. Excepting, of course, Los Pixies themselves. On we go…


My niece may very well go on to become one of the most influential guitarists of all time. It’s not for anyone to say as the paint is still wet. Incidentally, the venue in question is the Ottawa Civic Center on April 16th and a ticket pre-sale begins today at 1pm over on www.PixiesMusic.com. Happy New Year, everyone. I’m back.


Unluckily for Sarah and Little Matt, Gacy had just popped over to the mall for some more duct tape.


Not to be outdone by KFC’s “Double-Down” sandwich, Popeye’s was quick to unveil it’s brand-new  “Quadrouple-Down” family fun bucket.