The Apple Of New Years Eve

Do you have plans for Friday night? It's New Years Eve, dammit! Why waste $50 on tickets to a throbbing dance club full of beautiful, sweaty Montreal women far too drunk on all sorts of liquor? [Ed. Note: JB, you are the worst promoter I have ever laid my eyes on.] Why not forsake the techno and come to a kick-ass loft party? (BYO everything!)

Come to Chez Gordie's for a New Years Party you won't forget (or remember). There will be an open mic (for the aspiring musicians and guitar fiends out there), unholy amounts of beer will be consumed, and to round out the night, the Dissonants promise to play their first gig of 2005. Their sound has been compared by various observers as a cross between the Sex Pistols and Dinosaur Jr. [Ed. Note: I would argue that they're a hybrid of old school punk and folk music.] They have also promised some interesting covers, including one by Turbonegro and another by Wolf Parade. Tickets are free for everyone who can breathe.

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Chez Gordie is located at St-Antoine and Atwater (not far from Lionel Groulx Metro). It's in the loft above Sheinhart's Dress Shop, just down the hill from the underpass. Doors will open at 9 PM. Contact me for more information.

2004

was a Swedish foot that fell in the mud.
A rusty pair of skates
or maybe a guitar missing two strings.
I walked for thousands of miles
(from St-Laurent street to Angrignon Park
and back X 8 or 9)
but my legs aren't folding.

I can't say it was a bad year.
No deaths in the family.
Body sound
even though my mind is corroding
and losing sharpness.
School was jam slipping though my fingers
but I kept enough to feed on.
Music was a reason to Be.
Even when my heart is limping
the songs carry me on.
They are natural stimulants
and make tragedy seem edible.

I can't wait for 2005 though.

Baby, This Place is a SHAMBLES

Run, don't jog, definately don't limp (!), whatever you do, just get your paws on a download/copy/etc. of Babyshambles - "Killamanjiro". It is a triumph, a tour de force if you will (as our Frenchifically-enhanced friends would say), and I had no choice but to tell you that this song Exists.. [Ed. Note: JB tells me he intended to put two periods on that sentence. He's trying to emphasize the point and I think he's just got too much Labatt Blue flowing around in there, somehow.]

Pete Doherty is the convicted felon responsible for this crime against bad music. His solo project Babyshambles has yet to release a proper album here in Canada (I can't seem to find it yet but I'm still hunting) but if this track is any indication, these Brits will raise their axes to the sky and rid the world of Rock Pretenders for at least a generation. [Ed. Note: Eternally optimistic, Jeremy Brendan is probably writing these outlandish hackfests from a dingy basement somewhere. Quit the bullshit. You're not a PR person, JB. They don't pay you. Actually, nobody pays you. Gotta go!]

Fuck my editor; I think that Pete deserves garlands around his head and a carriage to carry him straight through downtown London with Punk Rock music blaring at the front of his procession.

He makes me want to play music until both of my feet are in the grave.

Fuck the "crackhead" label or the caw caw cawing of Doherty's bandmates. After all, it is plain to see that they're just sods who rode his coat-tails into the Indie Rawk Ball; now that they realize his power, they've amputated him from their band and are hopping along like the pogoing bastards they are. Yes, I have a beef with the Libertines. Bring back Pete! He's your only hope that anyone outside of the Isles will ever listen to you.

It's all about the music that we create, we imbibe, we devour. Reputations are short-lived, but sounds resonate eternally.

The Dissonants Need your Help

Completely-unknown rock band the Dissonants are making some big promises these days, and some of them may just happen to be true. They guarantee beer (in kegs), rocknroll (live and preferrably loud), and an interesting scene (Gordie's loft @ St. Antoine & Atwater, that place above Sheinhart's Dress Shop near Lionel Groulx, doors open @ 9 PM). Do them a favour and check it out. No cover so you've got nothing to lose except your time (and it won't be lost. It will be invested in the next best band you haven't heard yet!). contact me if you need further information or more specific directions.

Of course, being a part of said band means that I am a biased individual and in no way representative of what the Rock Critics would say. I'm just whoring myself out here, people. Don't take this as the word of God. I'm more like a prophet anyway. [Ed. Note: I would argue that you're a loss.]

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In other news, I'm working at RadioShack a million trillion hours a week lately, trying to make some money for tuition. If you need batteries, Illico boxes, or electric massagers, please visit me at RadioShack Dorval (in Les Jardins Dorval, right near the highway & Dorval Terminus) and I won't give you a discount! Yes, that's right! No discount whatsoever.

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Lastly, contrary to popular opinion, I am in no way, shape, or form a bunny rabbit. I may not be a zebra--I'm stripeless--and I'm definately not a lion, but I can assure you all that I'm not a bunny rabbit. Besides, I hate carrots. If I had the choice, I suppose I'd be a seagull; they're repulsive, tough as titanium, and they'll eat anything. Also, even if I am a hopeless romantic, there's no reason to forget I exist.

Jeremy Brendan (This photo is just for the damned Blogger Profile, I have no other way of posting images to this accursed site).

The Sellouts @ Louis VIII Bar, Montreal, PQ.

"Dimebag" Darrell Shot By Lunatic

Yesterday was the 24th anniversary of John Lennon's assassination by a deranged fan. Two days before that, another nutjob named Mr. Lepine shot and killed a classroom full of women studying engineering, specifically targeting them because of their gender. Now, "Dimebag" Darrell is dead due to a crazed individual.

Darrell "Dimebag" Abbott, former lead guitarist of metal heavyweight Pantera, was playing the first song of a set with his new band Damageplan when a hooded man lept onto the stage and fired several shots at him from point blank range. The assailant also killed a bouncer, two fans from the crowd, and wounded two others.

Some might say that this is directly related to the celebrity culture that we live in; by placing all of our hopes and dreams on these strangers, when they make a decision that we don't agree with, some of the more deluded in the audience will go ballistic.

I think a good step would be to ban all handguns. They are useless. There is no way that America is safer because anyone can wander into a 7-ll and put a slug in the cashier's head.

Admittedly, in Canada, we do have some gun violence but this is often thwarted by security or police because it is hard to hide a rifle. Also, many of the gun deaths are related to our infamous biker wars (Hells vs. other gangs, etc.) so it is relatively safe up here in this cold wasteland.

I call on all rational individuals to contact their government leaders to demand a ban to all handguns. If you have ever listened to the Beatles or Pantera, you have two good reasons to pick up that phone.

Long live the Winter Session; the Fall Session is Dead

As of Monday, my first semester of journalism at Concordia U. will be a done deal (aside from two exams which I'll hopefully coast through with straight-B's). Gone are the days of scurrying to the Loyola Computer Lab to slap together my Print assignments; no more sponging off of the People's Potato, that student-run collective that feeds free vegan meals to the less fortunate at Sir George William campus; I may even get to sleep in the weeks ahead!

I've learned several things from this semester. First of all, I'm a resilient bastard. When George W. pushes the Nuclear button because he thinks it's the remote for his Sony television, only I and the cockroaches will survive. I'm like a boxer who keeps limping to his feet as the ref calls out "eight...nine". (Should the period be within the quotation marks? Dammit, I need a copy editor, stat.)

Also, during the past three months, I fell in love, and before long, I got my heart sauteed and served with a side of grief. Did I learn anything from that car-wreck of a romance? If you feel something, don't lie to yourself. Make sure that you know what you're getting yourself into. Be completely honest. If you're a lover, love. If you're a hustler, hustle. Don't try to grow wings if you're meant to walk on the loamy soil. Love is a drug that only the very brave or very stupid should ever experiment with.

One feather in my cap is the band that I've played two gigs with. We're a curious lot but I think we have potential. There's no guarantee that we'll be able to translate that into something real but you never know. We played a gig @ Cafe Chaos (St-Denis, just below Bar St-Sulpice) and it went relatively well. I'll post some pics and music as soon as they become available, if any of you are curious and/or interested.

I'll end this self-indulgent navel gazing by saying "Happy Holidays" and keep your eyes focused on the moose in the middle of the highway. Good luck in the new year & let's all just agree to forget about November. That was one tootheache of a month.

Any thoughts? What was your November/Autumn/semester/etc. like? Let me know, below, in the comments section.