America, Land of Bombs & Money

"Easter is the victory of light over darkness. In this season of renewal, we remember that hope leads us closer to truth, and that in the end, even death itself will be defeated. That is the promise of Easter morning."
U.S. President George W. Bush, National radio address on Saturday, March 26th. (CNN)

Yes, Pres. Bush. Death will be defeated by praying to Jesus. Perhaps the thousands of marines in Iraq can say hail marys as their unarmoured humvees get shot at by stray AK-47 and RPG fire.

When 16-year old Jeff Weise decided to shoot up his school, he was taking the path of violence and destruction that most of us would abhor. He should have joined the U.S. Army. That way, he could have killed as many "insurgents" as he wanted without risking a murder charge.

"A senior (U.S.) Army legal official acknowledged that the Iraqi colonel had at one point been lifted to his feet by a baton held to his throat, and that that action had caused a throat injury that contributed to his death.

The Army accounting said the Special Forces Command had determined that the use of force had been lawful 'in response to repeated aggression and misconduct by the detainee.'

Despite recommendations by Army investigators, commanders have decided not to prosecute 17 American soldiers implicated in the deaths of three prisoners in Iraq and Afghanistan in 2003 and 2004, according to a new accounting released Friday by the Army."
"Pentagon Will Not Try 17 GI's Implicated in Prisoners' Deaths" (NYT)

Killing is wrong any way you look at it. When you're the most powerful nation on the earth, you have a moral duty to limit the spread of violence and the distribution of arms.

Instead, America is the biggest purveyor of weapons on the globe. Just days ago, they announced the sale of F-16 multi-purpose jet fighters to Pakistan, no doubt due to Pakistan's half-hearted attempts at catching Bin Laden, America's Emmanuel Goldstein. Never mind the fact that India has protested that this will only escalate tensions in the region.

If there is a point to all of this, America's establishment will recoil in horror when one of its own sons decides to pick up a rifle and begin killing his classmates, but they think it's just fine to spread violence elsewhere in the world by selling kill-machines and bombs to other nations. Don't they see the relation between having weapons and using them?

U.S., do us all a favour. Sign on to Kyoto, sign the Landmines ban, join the International Criminal Court, and stop thinking that you're some sort of empire. Your downhill slide is already apparent to many independent observers, anyhow. While you're at it, start teaching Mandarin or Japanese in your classrooms. They'll own you before the century is through.

Oh, and Happy Easter!

Hacking Up a Lung & Dissonants Gig

I've been busy as of late trying to retrieve the wreckage of Concordia Flight 2005 from the crash scene of my school year. I fucked around a lot and now I'm mathematically doubtful of passing several of my courses. It would be nice to be a part of the religious herd at this point so that I would have somebody to pray to. Being an agnostic, I've been secretly praying to Enn Rautsepp, the director (?) of Concordia's Journalism program.

Today, I have to go and cover some exposition on chocolate at McGill University. It begins in 43 minutes and my bacon isn't done frying on the stove. I predict that I will arrive late, start scribbling down any notes I can, and then dart towards the free samples of chocolate. I'm salivating just thinking of ripping through a sweet little piece of cocoa extract right now.

Later this week, I have some copy stories due for Radio class (deadline: Friday night) and a myriad pile of other work that has accumulated in the past few months. Rautsepp preserve me!

~~~

In other news, the Dissonants will be playing a gig at Reggie's Pub tomorrow (Thursday night). They want to punk you into a frenzy. Doors open at 7 PM, cover is a paltry $2, and there will be four terrific bands to stroke your musical muscles. Come one, come all!
##########
Thu - 03.24 Launie Anderssohn, The Dissonants, The Rothschilds, Coriander @ Reggie's Pub ($2) (7pm), 1455 De Maisonneuve (in Concordia's Hall Building!).
##########

"Wilding" by JB

I think that I've progressed, comparing this text to "All of You". I dropped the forced rhyming and just went with my gut.

"Wilding"
~~~
This is the most important instant of my life.
I am completely aware
of the dangers inherent in uttering such a thing
You could crush me like a beetle
My legs would twitch on
but I'd be dead, nonetheless

I'm holding out my hand
it's yours for the taking
If you lock me outside
I will have to curl up in a snowbank
I'm a vagabond even if I have a home.
I still piss in alleyways and eat table scraps

Give me what you can
I'll wait until there is peace in Israel
Like patient waves that reach for mountains
but only make it as far as the beach
My love has no expiry date
It will age like red wine
~~~


Ironically enough, I am indeed twitching but I'm hoping I'll get scooped off the street before any more sedans pass over me. I'm not broken. Lather, rinse, repeat. I'm not broken.

"All of You" by JB

Wrote this one a while back but never bothered to do anything with it. Poetry means something to me again because it's all I have left. I can't sleep, I barely eat; even alcohol has lost its woozy charm. I need to rely on words to get me through this turbulence, these nightmares I dream while I'm awake. Point is, this poem once inspired me to keep going way back when, so now I wanted to share it with you all.

I'd appreciate some criticism or commentary. It's a tad bit rough, so go easy on me, eh? Might even work as lyrics, I guess. [Ed. Note: Stick to something you're good at, like sleeping, or fooling people into thinking that you're some sort of bewildered idiot-savant. You're an actor, a stumbling, self-obsessed little fuck who thinks that because he has access to a keyboard and a couple of 4-dollar words, all of the sudden he's some sort of poet. Jeremy Brendan, you've always been a fraud & now your inflicting all of this miserable prose on the world. Shame. Shaaaame.]

"All of You"
~~~
I am alive for
this minute
for art and the
worlds in it
for love and the
infinite
for friends and readers of
English Lit
for truth and arguing with
the cynics
for people who like
being misfits
for the unknown hero lying to
be tragic
for the causality that is based
on magic

I love humanity
insanity
& vanity
in small doses
for lovers who twist
like red roses
for brown hair
and delicate poses
for winter
and red noses
I am alive and I thrive
because what's in me
is all of you
~~~

Don't listen to my editor. He's just hateful because I always get the last word.

First Annual "Spot JB Drunk" Contest

I am about to go and pawn some of my personal effects to fund the first annual "Spot JB Drunk" Contest. Yes, I am going out to drink like my liver is made of titanium, folks. It's 3:18 PM so the day is young.

The contest has two parts:

• Spot JB:
Participants must track down Jeremy Brendan and taunt him/buy him drinks/explain to him the mysteries of life and why it seems that women are puzzles made of broken glass, beautiful but capable of inflicting such intense pain.

• Stamina:
Once they have found JB, participants must go drink for drink with JB until somebody either passes out or gets sick. At that point, the contest is over and we all begin the hunt for drugs.

Everyone is welcome to attend! Bring your fat, swollen wallets and a sense of humour, because JB doesn't have either of those today. [Ed. Note: To give you all a hint, JB's usual haunts are Cock 'n Bull Pub, Brutopia, and Reggie's, although there is a strike at Concordia today so Reggie's is not a potential hangout.]

What contest would be complete without a prize? If you spot JB, you win at least one anecdote relating Hindu mythology with a musical instrument or maybe a corny joke. Also, JB can help you find whatever you need, ie. opium, ether, etc. If you can keep up with JB's drinking, you win his gratitude and the unadulterated respect of your peers (the drunken gang at whichever bar you happen to be at).

Looking forward to seeing you all out there! Cheers and vive la peine, l'amour est mort!

The Hunter Has Left the Building

[Ed. Note: Hunter S. Thompson died last night of a self-inflicted gunshot wound. Jeremy wrote the following last night but I was only able to post it today. His real-life alter-ego is trying to get it published in the Montreal Mirror but we can't guarantee they'll accept it. En attendant, here it is, unedited.]

It's getting damn close to 4 AM but I can't sleep right now. What I wouldn't do for a drug tonight, anything to get my mind out of this soul-sucking space. I can't believe that another one of my heroes has died; Doctor Gonzo is no more.

Hunter S. Thompson was once a writer, before he became a lab rat and singed his neurons into charcoal. Thompson was a barbarian in his early days, clanging his pen against the gates of the publishing world, trying to prove that electrified prose and quick wit could triumph over accuracy. The 50's was mostly a wasteland until he rolled up on his motorcycle, drugs in one hand and a gun in the other.

Thompson used a novelist's eye to get to the epicentre of the story, sometimes lying to get his point across. Many credit him with ushering in the style known as "New Journalism", a school now relegated to trashy mags like Vice or the occasional college rag. His detractors painted him as a fraud--nothing more than a celebrity-cum-writer who milked his reputation for all it was worth--to them, he was more a drugged-out gun nut than a literary figure.

Hunter was all of these things. More importantly, he set the journalists free. Why else would I be compelled to write that my hemorrhoids are really burning right now? His death makes my soul burn more than any pile ever could.

Often going by the pseudonym "Raoul Duke", Thompson showed the American Press that their "inverted pyramid" technique was just as boring as the missionary position they would employ on their wives once a week.

Thompson proved that colour and flair (along with a keen sense of what is right) can compensate for gaps in the narrative; ultimately, the truth will emerge even if it is submerged beneath a sea of falsity.

Hunter never did wipe out the "Pyramid crowd"; those dinosaurs will still walk the earth when we're all just bones and plastic beer cups. I don't know if we'll ever be rid of the type of people who work for Fox News.

It must be said that Thompson never did a journalism class. Hell, he probably would have choked on the endless fluff pieces that I and my fellow scribes are forced to ejaculate for our loveless Concordia professors. Hunter's whole career was based on a sham, after he convinced the U.S. Air Force that he was qualified to write, edit, and produce a newspaper.

Hunter was an exception.

Now, I'm left here with all these Rules and no Buzz with the walls closing in like lobster claws. Where is Wendy, my one and only, when I need her? Has the world gone mad?

Maybe the Canadian Air Force is hiring?

The Dissonants & The Casingles, Reggie's Pub, Fri. Feb. 18th, 9 PM, $5

As listed in the Montreal Mirror, don't miss the Dissonants & the Casingles show tomorrow night @ Reggie's Pub. (Friday, Feb. 18th @ 9 PM!) It will be bedlam, I tell you.

Note: This is not the real logo from Reggie's Pub but a visual aid was needed, so use your imagination.
The Dissonants have a prolific set planned to ease you into the "Reading Week" Holiday Spirit. The D's plan to play a handful of originals and some inspired covers (ie. Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, Turbonegro). Their sound is hard to pigeonhole but probably lies somewhere between Dinosaur Jr. and Old-School punk. [Ed. Note: More like the unholy bastard child of Alexisonfire and Counting Crows! Despite this, I assure you that they will rock your casbah.]

After the Dissonants, headliners the Casingles will bring some of that voodoo garage punk that you all know and love. After the hysteria-inducing set they played a couple of Sundays ago at Cafe Chaos (accompanied by Manic Manon and the surprisingly excellent psychobilly band Flesh), expect them to put on a hell of a show tomorrow night.


[Ed. Note: Shaking Judy could not make it to the show because they were abducted by Space Raelians. Our hearts and prayers are going out to them (to Shaking Judy, not to the Raelians!)]

I am not usually one to agree with hacks like the New York Times but Montreal's burgeoning rock scene is home to a lot of impressive acts (ie. Arcade Fire, Wolf Parade, Launnie Andersohn, The Stills, The Unicorns, The Dears, etc.). Support your local scene!
~~~

The Dissonants, The Casingles, 9pm, $5
Feb 18, Reggie's Pub, Concordia U, 1455 de Maisonneuve W.
For more info: 848-7423 or 242-9840

The Ayatollah's Edicts & Whether Holding Hands is Permissible

I was reading an interesting article by Patrick Cockburn on Counterpunch Magazine (""Sistani's Vision for Iraq") and it lead me to Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani's Official site.

Ayatollah al-Sistani is one of the key figures Iraq's Shi'ite community, a group that represents over 60 percent of the Iraqi population. In the January 30 election, the United Iraqi Alliance is claiming to have won a majority of the seats in Iraq's National Assembly. According to the Economist, the UIA "claims Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani as its chief mentor."

A recount is underway in Iraq but if the preliminary results hold to be true, will the UIA (which some have described as fundamentalist) turn Iraq into another Iran? Ayatollah al-Sistani has not expressed an interest in running for public office, but will the UIA decide to bring in Sharia law or something similar?

Will America's attempt to inject democracy serum into an Iraq, bound by the chains of occupation, turn it into another fundamentalist Arab regime indifferent to American demands? [Ed. Note: JB, can you make these sentences any longer? This is amateurish bullshit. Get to the point.]

I decided to do a little digging and on al-Sistani's website, I found some startling revelations. Thanks to his very comprehensive FAQ page, here are the Grand Ayatollah's views on:

Suicide
"Question:Is suicide permissible in Islam?

Answer:It is not permissible.

Question:What does the Qur’an say about suicide?

Answer:Islam does not allow it in every circumstance."

Oral Sex
"Question:Is oral sex by husband or wife allowed?

Answer:It is permissible provided no liquid out swallowed."

Checking Out Some Guy
"Question:Which part of strange man’s body is it allowed for a woman to look at? Is it allowed to look at his breast? On the tv in the western countries its very oft, that the men show their bodies till the belly ?

Answer:Looking of a woman at a stranger’s (ajnabi) body is forbidden, if it is with lust and fear of falling in sin. It is not even permissible to look without that (lust and fear) also as a measure of obligatory precaution except for the parts of body which normally a man does not cover i.e. head, hand and ankles which a woman can look at if it is without lust and without fear of falling in sin."

Masturbation
"Question:If my wife wants me to masturbate in front of her, is it then allowed?

Answer:You are not allowed to do it with hand, but your wife is."

Friendship
"Question:I wanted to know about friendship norms in islam about females ?

Answer:Friendship with her is not permissible. Because in such friendship man is not immune from sin."

Backdoor Action
"Question: Is anal intercourse permissible.?

Answer:Permission is bound to wife’s agreement, but it is strongly undesirable."

Orgies
"Question:Is having an orgy permissible under the Qur’an?

Answer:It's forbidden."

Or Just Getting Acquainted
"Question:Are shaking of hands with girls allowed?

Answer:It is not permissible."

After reading al-Sistani's site, I've realized that I take a lot of my freedoms for granted.

I didn't quote his ultra-religious edicts to mock him in any way--I am equally disdainful of all religions--it's just that a party that sees him as its spiritual guide could very well win the Iraqi election and write a constitution that will absorb edicts like these.

Saddam was definately a brutal tyrant but he was still more of a secular leader than a religious one, mainly because his Sunni-led regime used secular policies to minimize the power of Shi'ite religious leaders. Now that the Shi'ites will be running the show in Iraqi, can they be relied upon to protect the rights of women? What about those of minorities like the Kurds, the Turkmen, or the Sunnis?

My heart of hearts hopes that there will be an end to the fighting between Iraqi versus Iraqi and the occupation will end by Bush's strained National Guardsmen and tired Marines. Then, you can bring the boys home, Mr. Bush. [Ed. Note: Tell them not to buy their tickets just yet. There's 20 or 30 thousand Iraqis running around with heavy weaponry looted from Saddam's weapons depots. JB, you are one deluded informer! The occupation will end the year we have a female President.B]

Oh, and just in case you were wondering:

"Question:I have a cat, and I heard that I couldn’t pray in clothing that have cat's hair. Is this true?

Answer: It does not make the prayer void.

Question:Praying in a condition that you have a leather wallet (bought from un Islamic country & unaware of the nature of leather) in your pocket is acceptable or not?

Answer:That is permissible and there is no objection in it."

Bush's 2006 Budget; "Just When You Thought Things Couldn't Get Any Worse!"

The Bush administration released their FY 2006 budget proposal on February 7th and I think that it truly proves that he is a compassionate conservative. The only downside is that his compassionate nature only extends to wealthy industrialists and other shady characters, the ones with the keys to the war machine.

Bush's sordid gang of looters are planning to invest the retirement savings of American workers into the stock market. As Lyndon Larouche pointed out, this economic plan was already tried out in Chile with disastrous effects for their population. Of course, this was under the Pinochet Regime and was pushed through at gunpoint; hopefully, the American public will have the good sense to rise up and demand that their representatives throw this idea out before it bankrupts their future.

While Bush seeks to reduce federal expenditures, he has no real means of doing so without cutting his bloated military budget. The War on Terror don't come cheap, eh Mr. Bush? Since 2001, the Bush Administration has raised "overall Defense spending by 41 percent." It is disheartening to see so much money available for bombs and unmanned attack vehicles but less to provide for health care or education.

The Bush budget has a couple of other doozies that stand out like erections on a crowded subway car. For example, Bush has slated "$100 million to fund competitive grants for States to develop innovative approaches to promote healthy marriages." Healthy marriages? Are they going to pay for Viagra or perhaps give each American married couple a free night at some swanky hotel? My instincts tell me no, that this is just a polite way of saying "if you can stop those queers from getting hitched, we'll toss you some coins!" Past experiences tell me that the term "healthy marriage" can't be bought with currency; it must be fought for, tooth and nail, by two loving partners, whether they be straight, gay, or just plain crazy.

U.S. federal spending on education should amount to $56 billion USD, a decrease of 1 percent compared to the FY 2005 budget. The Environmental Protection Agency will also feel the pain next year; their 2006 funding will decrease by 6 percent to $7.6 billion. Even with reductions in these departments, the U.S. will still have a $390 billion dollar deficit to contend with, and projected annual deficits of at least $200 billion or more over the next four years.

Bush is definately concerned about young people who fuck without getting married first. The proposed budget will "(provide) more than $206 million for abstinence-only activities this year." Paradoxically, these sort of "activities" haven't really worked in the past, as teen pregnancies and sexually transmitted diseases show no sign of disappearing across America. Neo-puritanism will never solve the issues of our time, no matter what the Religious Right's televangelists are preaching.

If there is a silver lining, it is for the Richie Rich jet-set club. The wealthiest Americans will enjoy the fruits of their lobbying and connections; they will save about $1 trillion USD over the next decade, money that could have gone to rebuild America's tumbling infrastructure or to uplift the needy. This will also exacerbate the ballooning national debt (an eye-popping $8.6 trillion USD, which is projected to rise to $11 trillion by 2010!).

Budgets like this one prove that when you put a blind man behind the wheel, you are sure to run into oncoming traffic. Fifty years from now, Americans will spit whenever somebody mentions the name George W. Bush. He makes "Tricky Dick" Nixon look like Ghandi. George Dubya's "faith-based" leadership is just that; he believes that his disjointed economic policies will work despite all other evidence to the contrary. If America is to climb out of this hole, they had better start praying.

[Ed. Note: This budget hadn't yet been approved by Congress as of press time. Also, most Democrats and a few key Republicans oppose many of the cuts in the slated budget. It will be interesting to see whether Congress gives Bush their seal of approval.]

The Arcade Burns For You, America

The Arcade Fire are on tour in the oppressed police state south of chilly Canada. If Bush has got you down, at least you can enjoy some great music and drink that weak putrid beer, America! [Ed. Note: What are you on? Keep writing posts like this and you'll be selling pencils in front of Alexis-Nihon Mall in no time. JB, give me a call.]

~~~

01.27 * Asheville, NC @ The Orange Peel
01.28 * Carrboro, NC @ Cat's Cradle
01.30 * Washington, DC, @ 9:30 Club
01.31 * Philadelphia, PA @ Theatre of Living Arts
02.01 * New York, NY @ Webster Hall
02.02 * New York, NY @ Irving Plaza
02.03 * Boston, MA @ Roxy

"2nd Ave." by JB

The moon is a half dream and I forgot
how to prove my own existence
I'm a pariah, parallel with the beams
that drip down from that white crescent
My friends are asleep
They're smiling
and graced with the Karmic bliss
of empty days
I wouldn't trade them
for a treasure chest or a leather chair

~~~

Gerald sips his water and wishes
that it was beer
His eyes are still bold
and his shoulders are high
He may have lost his voice
but only from singing
He is very sad
because he knows what life is
He has given us more
than he has taken

~~~

Chris is a punk through and through
He is a stargazing rock and roll hero
We are waiting for him to make good
The Colombian lady is his temptress
and he might pawn his game for gold
but he doesn't steal
and his future is unravelling
into a sea of mermaids
and sandy beaches
He may return to B.C.

~~~

Clem is an old friend
His heart was born lately
It is always ready to seize control
and veer him wildly askew
like Ski-doo tracks between the trees
He means well
and watches out for his friends
If his Id has vanquished his Ego
so be it
as long as Clem remembers
how far he can leap!

~~~

Mike is a bulldog
He'll guard his kin to the death
and he barks at trespassers
His eyes are big, bright remembering things
(blue beads that watch the fall)
For him, Blue Six-point-one is never far
and I think he'll keep on running
until he finds a place to rest
and a lady to love

~~~

Destiny is scratching at our door
I can hear its little claw paws
Let us feed it and find a way
to hold our souls up to the light
without seeing any wavy lines
or broken glass
We'll keep each other clean
and praise the shambles dawn

"7 Thoughts" by JB

I live to linger in the late hours
clutching my talisman to my breast
(the bottle that is always full to me)
The anthracite evenin' is my armour.

~~~

Of late, the most curious thing has happened
(I dare not call it by name
because that is the surest way for it to disappear)
Roots take time to catch hold of the loamy soil.

~~~

She is pure and sad and beautiful
and many other things
I want to soothe her ailments
and hold her coat.

~~~

There was a man with a heavy pack
The straps dug down deep into his shoulders
He carried his life inside of it
When he put it down, he was free for a time.

~~~

We should dance wild in Loyola hallways
and kiss like our lips are made of oxygen
Come and inhabit my bed for a week
I can cook great fluffy crepes.

~~~

Some things creep up on us like vagrant waves
Completely random, like phantom gusts of East Wind
Personally, I don't resist the weather
I move right through the atoms like a renegade electron.

~~~

Be forewarned, my hands are thin typist-things
and I am a sporadic fuck-up, but I mean well...
The inside of your mind must be a carnival of dreams
I want to spend the day with you.

"To Jeffrey" by JB

Every night, I go to my dreams guilty
Each day, I wake up forgiven

My soul is like a thousand onion peels
or a constantly-unravelling cassette tape

I want to send you
a Medium Message.

You say that you don't understand what I mean.
That disconnect is art in itself.

Your mind will paint the portrait it desires.
Our attempt to comprehend each other makes us all Picassos.

{Even the Milwaukee's Best-swilling, Nascar-watching
barbaric gang of Pleasure-Hunters

Even the quasi-Bohemian snuff-breathers who carry
around little hardcover notebooks and fear their own demise

Even the loveless Crescent Streeters in their 1000 Watt
Ritalin Paradise

Even the Old and Older folks whose pants are rising by the minute
and who can remember Johnny Carson jokes}

I realize that I am using broad strokes here
and you can always retort...

(insert one-size-fits-all "No Comprende" here)

but that is just A-OK.
We are [a: born / b: alive / c: dying / d: all of the above] alone

Suffice it to say that this lack of comprehension between us
makes words taste like red licorice.

~~~

Jello is Quite Evil, really.

The New Years Dissonants show at Gordie's Loft (AKA Chez Gordie's) taught me several things about performing live, and about being in a band in general. These should be tattooed on one's arm (in 6 pt. Arial font, I suppose) so that their import won't be overlooked at any time.

Violations of these precepts should be punishable by extreme measures (OK, maybe not death, but something severe!). I will summarize them in Point Form, just like those corporate pigs at Maxim might, for enhanced readability!

1) Jello-Wrestling Ban: Although watching two lovely ladies grope and grapple in a tub full of Jello sounds like harmless fun, it will inevitably result in a Jello throwing match and equipment covered in red gelatinous mush. Jello is also very difficult to get out of one's hair and/or corduroys. Realistically, the Jello Ban should really be extended to all sticky food wrestling. (Jello is also made of animal bones so why eat it in the first place?)

2) Start the Gig Early: By the time our drummer graced us with his presence, it was close to 2:15 AM and most of our guests had already migrated to other bars/parties/afterhours and we were playing for a largely empty room. Only two hours earlier, we had close to a hundred people and things were looking rosy. If you tell people that your gig is going to start at 1 AM or so, try and be reasonable or else you'll be watching the tumbleweeds roll by. Also, if your whole band can't make it by a certain time, cancel the gig and severely guilt-trip the band member in question.

3) Two Beer Rule Must Be Enforced: When we hit the stage, our band was mostly drunk, myself included. This may be just fine for Musical Geniuses like Connor Oberst or the Libertines but it doesn't cut it for Rookies like our band. My lead guitarist was so intoxicated that at one point, he was kneeling on the floor and couldn't get up for fear of tumbling down in a heap. While I was severely intoxicated, at least I could stand up and play my parts. Since we started so late, it was to be expected that we would be boozed up by showtime, but this can't happen in the future. Also, drugs, although fun, will only make things harder to handle emotionally and deplete money that could pay for band practice or food.

4) Write More Songs and Stop Learning Covers: This can't be stressed enough. A band without songs is like a Bonobo monkey without sexual organs. If you are going to learn covers, make sure they're songs that are new and vital enough to warrant repeat playing show after show. Also, stay away from Mainstream Bullshit unless your band is a big fan of Nickelback or Evanescence. In my heart of hearts, I truly hope that my band will remain untainted by the stench of Middle-Ground Rock.

5) Don't Be Afraid To Institute a Fascist Intra-Band Regime: Democracy, while great for running nation states, doesn't work in families or in bands. The songwriter(s) should enforce their will through threats and cajoling because that is the only way to have a cohesive sound. If nobody can agree, that means that it is time to start a new band. While I am optimistic that the Dissonants will survive until our next gig (Dutchfest, Feb. 1st 2004, Venue still being negotiated), I can't predict whether we'll stay together for good. Luckily, we're (mostly) still friends in the band so we may just be able to sort out this band strife and make something good out of it all.

6) Bands Are Like Lovers, Only Without the Sex: Yes, people have feelings and you can't be too blunt or direct with your opinions. Always temper your criticism with some sort of compliment or else your band-mates will be building a trap full of Ponzi Sticks to impale you in no time. Plus, they're musicians, so if they make music, sometimes it is just a question of finding yourself in their creation. Fuck egos or trying to please everyone. Just give them a fair shake and you'll be surprised how good the final product can turn out. This can be ignored if the song sounds too Mainstream or Evanescentish; in this case, Rule 4 applies.

Happy New Years! What sort of resolutions did you make for the next 12 months? [Ed. Note: No more drugs for a long time!]

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.

~~~

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.]

====

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.

====

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.

"Hush" by JB

Hush you and hear my
atypical rant
Listen to this pathetic prophet
(a slave to modernity
and shackled to his image)
I've dreamed
things you've never seen
Flowers that grow in the most obscure places
Waking up beside you when the morning is new
Coffee made of sand
and painted lungs turning black
All beginnings and ends
The back of the train
A particular pause when your lips are like songs
Your hair climbing out from under your hat
And green empty eyes
with huge tearless pupils
This can't just be the end
or love is a well-marketed myth
Your absence condemns me
I need your grace
~~~
JB, 2004.

"The Healer" by JB

I'm a victim of tragic rhythm
A drunken sop without a pen
I'm a physician who heals the pigeons
and chops the heads off all the hens
(JB. 2004)

Excuses, Alibis, and Explanations for my Scant Blogging of Late

I haven't been maintaining this blog for some time. It is like a rickety barn barely standing, with holes in the windows from stones pelted by local hooligans and a door hanging on by a rusty hinge. Luckily, this lack of online activity is due to a flurry of real-life existence which has appeared from out of the fog in the past few weeks. I'm not keeping my blog warm and well-fed because:

• I'm in a band. Formerly called the Sellouts, we are in the process of finding a new name. We're also auditioning for a singer although I have a sinking feeling that this may just induce me to jump ship, since I want to sing. (Sadly, I suck vocally but my heart is in the right place) Regardless, we played our first gig @ Louis VIII on Friday night and it was a raucous success, despite a bizarre legion of moshing pals who knocked over equipment, spilled beer on my dear mother, and nearly bashed her over at one point. The ringleader, who happens to be a good (if constantly inebriated) friend of mine, eventually got picked up by the throat and tossed into a large P.A. speaker. Since we were playing punk rock (Turbonegro, etc!), it was a decent set but I don't think we'll be invited back to the Louis for quite some time. I'll keep you posted regarding our next gig, if we haven't already been blacklisted as a bunch of troublemakers.


• I'm trying to survive Journalism school. I'm studying at Concordia and this semester has been both rewarding and mortally terrifying. I have enough papers to write in the two weeks ahead to make Noam Chomsky hide in a broom closet and sob uncontrollably. Also, I have to catch up on all the reading that I neglected to do because of the next point...


• I party like an escaped felon. The other day, I was nursing a Boreale Blonde beer when I realized that I invest a large part of my time and money into getting royally fucked up. This is not a good thing. Since I haven't gotten my student loan yet, I've been neglecting my bills and yet, somehow, keeping my eyes pink and glossy almost daily. Also, I am out in pubs several times a week (Reggie's or Cock 'n Bull Pub on Tuesdays) so booze is also absorbing part of my life like a Scott Towel. My liver probably looks like a piece of tenderized beef.


• I write for the Link. This one is sort of a weak excuse because I haven't really written anything for the Concordia Link since my Blackspot article. Googlers can read it if they so choose; it will even reveal my true name, since everyone knows that Jeremy Brendan was but a "Nom de Plume". (And no, I didn't choose that God-Awful headline!)

Suffice it to say that I will return to this blog when I can focus on it with the attention it deserves. Until then, please read Google News or Salon.com (or other blogs like the ones in my sidebar!). I'll be back, just like the Governor of California once said in some Hollywood blockbuster that made millions for a bunch of rich white guys.

------

On a side note, do you read "Exclaim!"? They published my letter in their November issue (remember? the one I posted on JB regarding Michael Barclay's failure to reference my interview with the Arcade Fire properly...also, I complained about how they put a picture of Wolf Eyes instead of Wolf Parade). Revenge is Nutrasweet.

Into the Lion's Den

According to UPI, Coalition Forces have conquered about 70 percent of Falluja.

A psych-ops unit was broadcasting the following message to the Iraqi insurgents holed up in many of the houses near the downtown core:

"Brave terrorists, I am waiting here for the brave terrorists. Come and kill us. Plant small bombs on roadsides. Attention, attention, terrorists of Fallujah."

I don't really know how many Iraqis will be lured outside by such a message. It makes me wonder if the U.S. Military has any good sense at all. They would be better off playing GWAR or N*Sync at high decibels from their psych-ops loudspeakers. I can picture the Iraqis running out of their foxholes with their hands in the air.

You Can Lead a Southerner to Vote but You Can't Make Him Think

The election is over. The bad guys won. At least it's not a Hollywood ending.

I can't really blame Ohio or Florida for their twisted electoral logic. To do so would ignore the middle of America, that big empty wasteland full of gay-hatin', God-lovin', gun-totin' folks who don't appreciate men who speak French. I know that I'm painting with a wide brush over here but how else can I rationalize the results of this Duo-Party-Winner-Take-All Gang-rape of American democracy?

The American Election was about Faith Inc. versus Reason and it looks like America is very faithful. Religion is fine in my books but when you mix it with politics, you're unknowingly producing a chemical not unlike TNT. The terrorists will love the Bush victory--they're already putting clips of Dubya smiling with all his teeth in their recruitment videos--and the Dems have been neutered and chained to a wall somewhere.

Bush is already busy making his tax cuts permanent. Instead of ending in 2011, they will go on unchecked for as long as a Republican holds the White House keys. America, when your son/daughter/father gets drafted and sent to some God-forsaken desert enclave to get shot at by AK-47 wielding maniacs, just remember in your heart of hearts that your country had a choice, and 51 percent of your fellow Americans chose wrong.

Hillary in 2008! Hope springs eternal like the American National Debt!

Vote

Kerry.


Bush put you in debt. He put your troops in harm's way for shifting, flip-floppish reasons. He squandered America's international standing like no other President in history. He assisted Al-Q'aida's recruitment efforts by bombing Iraq when they had nothing to do with 9/11. He changed the laws to permit the government to know where you buy your books and what you told your doctor. He held innocent men captive in a concentration camp (Guantanamo Bay Prison) although none of them have ever been prosecuted as true terrorists. He let Osama Bin Laden get away. Should I go on?

I must. Bush gave tax cuts to the wealthy and signed a deal that would enrich the pharmaceutical companies in the years to come. He gutted the Clean Air Act and allowed polluters to write the legislation that should regulate their polluting ways. He threatened to ban gay marriage and then chided John Kerry for mentioning that Dick Cheney's daughter is gay (and that it's OK because she's a good person). Bush never visited the NAACP. He didn't remove Donald Rumsfeld despite the human rights abuses that appear to be systemic across Iraq's American prisons.

I could continue until I'm blue in the face but why bother? I can't vote in this election because I'm a Montrealer eh? Still, I figured I might as well take one last crack at convincing you.

If you're an American, prove to the world that you can make a sound decision. John Kerry is not perfect but when you compare him to George W. Bush, he looks like John the Baptist.

Vote Kerry, please. I'll beg if I must.

(I support Kerry)

Eminem Sees a Burning Bush

Multi-platinum-selling rapper Eminem, never a stranger to controversy, has taken a swipe at Bush in the final week of the U.S. Presidential election. A video of the song "Mosh" was leaked to Gnn.tv today but it appears that the server is overloaded because I can't access it right now.

According to Salon.com, Eminem has decided to vote for the first time in his life specifically because of George W. Bush and his Neoconservative administration. Contrary to his song from the Slim Shady LP, Eminem finally "gives a fuck" and will vote Kerry on November 2nd.

What will the critics think of this song? I'm not sure if Eminem will ever be remembered as a neo-Dylan lyrically, or even as a Great Rapper (on par with Biggy, Tupac, or Nas), but one good point about this song is that Eminem seems hungry again. Bush has that effect on people; he's certainly a uniter, only Bush tends to drive his opponents together. He's like a matchmaker for progressives, leftists, union members, city-folk, and academes. Bush being in office is the best thing that ever happened to the Left in America because it gave them a reason to fight again; he is the perfect Darth Vader for them to oppose. [Ed. Note: That is debatable. Please feel free to comment below if you think JB is going too far.]

Reading Eminem's lyrics, I was overcome with a sense of gratitude. Instead of just making his money and threatening gays/his mother/other rappers, Em has taken a political stand; for once, we can't accuse him of limited subject matter.

(Excerpt from Eminem- "Mosh")

"Imagine it pouring, it's raining down on us,
Mosh pits outside the oval office
Someone's trying to tell us something, maybe this is God just saying
we're responsible for this monster, this coward, that we have empowered
This is Bin Laden, look at his head nodding,
How could we allow something like this, Without pumping our fist
Now this is our, final hour
Let me be the voice, and your strength, and your choice
Let me simplify the rhyme, just to amplify the noise
Try to amplify the times it, and multiply it by six
Ten million people are equal of this high pitch
Maybe we can reach Al Q'aida through my speech
Let the President answer on high anarchy
Strap him with AK-47, let him go
Fight his own war, let him impress daddy that way
No more blood for oil, we got our own battles to fight on our soil
No more psychological warfare to trick us to think that we ain't loyal
If we don't serve our own country we're patronizing a hero
Look in his eyes, it's all lies, the stars and stripes
They've been swiped, washed out and wiped,
And Replaced with his own face, mosh now or die
If I get sniped tonight you'll know why, because I told you to fight

So come along, follow me as I lead through the darkness
As I provide just enough spark, that we need to proceed
Carry on, give me hope, give me strength,
Come with me, and I won't stear you wrong
Put your faith and your trust as I guide us through the fog
Till the light, at the end, of the tunnel, we gonna fight,
We gonna charge, we gonna stomp, we gonna march through the swamp
We gonna mosh through the marsh, take us right through the doors

[Eminem speaking angrily]
And as we proceed, to mosh through this desert storm, in these closing statements, if they should argue, let us beg to differ, as we set aside our differences, and assemble our own army, to disarm this weapon of mass destruction that we call our president, for the present, and mosh for the future of our next generation, to speak and be heard, Mr. President, Mr. Senator"

Eminem is no Winston Churchill but he may encourage some of the youth voters to mark their ballots. His heart is definately in the right place, anyhow. Marshall Mathers III may have his personal issues but at least he's trying to make a difference for once. Kerry now has Bill Clinton and Eminem watching his back. Still, I think that Bush and Cheney are more appropriately "Thugs for Life".

Kerry Interviewed in RS; Iran Endorses Bush for Pres.

"Did you get angry at Bush personally?

Look, I know politics is tough, and I don't spend a lot of time worrying about what they do to me. But I do worry, and I am angry, about what they do to the American people. That's what this race is about. It's not about me. I can take it -- I don't care. I've been in worse things. I was on those boats -- I got shot at. I can handle it."
Jann Wenner interviews John Kerry for Rolling Stone Magazine, RS 961, Nov. 11th.

Kerry is certainly getting targeted by the Karl Rove Patrol of Republican politicos and PR flacks. This is not to imply that he's being very positive in his campaign, though. John Kerry is a master of the home stretch; he has repeatedly seized electoral victories when everyone else counted him out.

I'm getting so tired of following this elaborate election campaign. Contrary to the month-long Canadian electoral cycle, Bush and Kerry have been trying to bash each other's heads in since March of 2004. I have been reading everything I can get my hands on since the first Democratic primaries, in Dean's glory days. For awhile, it even looked like Wesley Clark might be the former soldier facing Bush in the debates. Instead, Kerry's connections and "safe-harbour" image won the day. If I must concede one thing, it is that John Kerry is not the solution to every American problem. He won't heal the disabled and make them walk. He probably won't win the war on terror (Bush admitted in an interview that it might be impossible to win, anyhow). He's no Jebus.

What John Kerry will do is give the U.S. an image boost. Bush is the most hated American president in history, capable of summoning millions of protesters in streets around the world, just to burn him in effigy and spit on his photo. Anti-American feelings have reached an untold level and even traditional allies like Canada are against Bush.

The point is, if you want to beat the terrorists, you need your friends and allies to respect your leader. I'm not talking "global test" here; I just believe that George W. Bush is a failure of a man who has offended a large segment of the world with his pre-emptive strikes and his bizarre foreign policy gaffes. He also put the U.S. into debt so far that future generations will still be paying for his economic mistakes.

One silver lining for Bush is that Iran announced today that they have endorsed him for President. Iran? Weren't they that country in the "Axis of Evil"? I need a fucking Tylenol.

Vote Kerry if you believe in America. Vote Bush if you believe in four more years of economic decline and perpetual war.

Jon Stewart Gives CNN's Crossfire a Punch in the Kidneys

(Courtesy of Wonkette)

If you've ever seen an episode of Crossfire, you'll get a chuckle out of this transcript. Jon Stewart, host of Comedy Central's Daily Show, takes a few well-aimed shots at one of the most fraudulent debate shows on television. He also mocks Tucker Carlson's bow-tie.

I say forget John Kerry. If I were American, I'd consider forgetting this election and convincing Jon Stewart to run for president in 2008! Imagine the hilarious wisecracks during the State of the Union address. Maybe he could get Conan O'Brien to be his running mate.

I agree with Jon Stewart; Crossfire is a stomping ground for seasoned political pundits who spit bile from opposing sides of the field. Even the Democrats who appear on Crossfire can't be defended because they resort to the same partisan bullshit. Every time we get close to a meaningful debate, the bell rings and silences everyone, ruining any chance of anybody formulating a nuanced argument. One liners and baseless allegations abound. Jon Stewart may have put it best:

"BEGALA: Well, it's because, see, we're a debate show.

STEWART: No, no, no, no, that would be great.

BEGALA: It's like saying The Weather Channel reduces everything to a storm front.

STEWART: I would love to see a debate show.

BEGALA: We're 30 minutes in a 24-hour day where we have each side on, as best we can get them, and have them fight it out.

STEWART: No, no, no, no, that would be great. To do a debate would be great. But that's like saying pro wrestling is a show about athletic competition."

In this corner, we have Paul Begala, ready to accuse Bush of devouring fetuses or chopping up baby seals with a hunting knife. In this corner, we have Tucker Carlson, eternally forgiving of Bush's numerous political gaffes, but certain to vilify and desecrate John Kerry with a volley of defaming insinuations, reprimands, and insults. And they call themselves journalists? (Do they? Not sure of that one)

When Tucker Carlson tried to patronize Stewart by saying "...you need to get a job at a journalism school, I think," Stewart replied, "You need to go to one." My thoughts exactly!

If you're deprived of cable or satellite (like I am), visit The Daily Show with Jon Stewart website for free clips of their program. Stephen Colbert has to be one of the funniest mofos on the planet.

Proto-Fascists From Denmark Support Bush

Associated Press is reporting that Bush has a slight edge over Kerry after the final debate. Can we expect another four years of peace? Hmmm...no, that's not right. Prosperity?...what about fiscal restraint? Er, no.

Luckily for the Bush campaign, a couple of Europeans with viking helmets full of dreams are driving across the Lower 48 in an RV; yes, they're called "Danes for Bush" and they love the American leader. Hell, their website links to his campaign page with the slogan "Hail to the Chief!". (Last time Denmark was occupied, they had to "heil" to a "chief" also. Sadly, he was the architect of a massive genocide and a sick fuck to boot. I guess these Danes haven't read their history books.)

Ever vigilant versus "the enemy within", they label their fellow Danes as turncoats due to their contempt for the Abu Ghraib scandal:

"For anybody who loves freedom reading the Danish newspapers is a depressing exercise. Traditionally staunch and wise intellectuals, who normally take a proud stand against the overwhelming influence exerted by left-wing sentimentalists on Danish politics, have suddenly exposed themselves as big-time turncoats.

In an interview in the national Danish newspaper Berlingske Tidende, personalities such as Ditlev Tamm, Claes Kastholm Hansen, Henning Fonsmark, Ulrik Høy and Bent Jensen disavow their once steadfast support to he Coalition of the Willing and the fight to bring democracy, peace and prosperity to the people of Iraq.

Not realising that you can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs, the few irregularities which took place in the Abu Ghraib Prison in Iraq have managed to topple their belief in the global War Against Terror. “I am angry, I feel deceived,” says Claes Kastholm Hansen to the newspaper, regarding the mismanagement of Abu Ghraib. Shame on Claes Kasthom Hansen and his band of sissies, might we add."
[Ed. Note: Italics mine!]

"Save us from Old Europe!" their website pleads. Why should anyone "save" them? The CIA World Factbook 2004 describes Denmark as a pretty nice place to live.

"This thoroughly modern market economy features high-tech agriculture, up-to-date small-scale and corporate industry, extensive government welfare measures, comfortable living standards, a stable currency, and high dependence on foreign trade."

The Danes for Bush "road team" consists of two intellectuals who operate out of Copenhagen; Mads Cortzen and Jacob Boeschou. Cortzen apparently "...studied rhetoric at Copenhagen University and knows how to deliver a speech which is right on the money." Boeschou "likes to quote Adam Smith and is an avid collector of various military artefacts (sic) from The Second World War." I wonder if he collects allied artifacts, or does he have a bunch of tea sets with little swastikas and Iron Crosses on them?

I'm not 100 percent sure whether or not this is a big joke or some sort of psychological experiment being conducted by some twisted Danish psychologist. Can this NGO group be real? What do you think? Will the enormous inflatable sausage mascot influence you to vote Bush on November 2nd? If so, please excuse me as I swig a bottle of Rye and cry softly in the nearest available corner.

Ré / Création: Where Literature and Music Are Connected

Calling all French-speaking literary fans and anyone seeking a good internet radio show! If you dig bands like Bright Eyes, Arcade Fire, Arab Strap, or anything else "exponential", check out the online radio show Ré/Création hosted by Anouck Vigneau and Geneviève Bouchard. Focusing on literature and its relation to other art forms, listeners are encouraged to submit questions or comments which will be addressed in next week's show.


Ré/Création airs every Wednesday from 11 AM to Noon. This week, Anouck won't be able to make it but Geneviève has a good show planned. Jeremy Brendan will be manning the soundboard to the best of his ability, so when you hear those buttons being pushed, you'll know that he really exists. JB will try his best to convince Geneviève to put on a Julie Doiron song (and if we're lucky, she might even allow an Ed Harcourt track!).

Bring your thinking caps and a nice hot cup of coffee. If you can't listen when the show is live, don't forget that it is archived on the Ré/Création website. If you don't speak French, now is a good time to learn. Vive la musique qui allume la flamme éternel, qui lève mon âme vers le ciel!

Album Review: Arcade Fire- "Funeral"

Rating: 4.7 out of 5
~ ~ ~ { } {} { } ~ ~ ~
In early September, I contacted Merge Records and requested a Promo copy of the AF's "Funeral". They were kind enough to send me one poste-haste and I received it close to two weeks later. Perhaps it is telling that not only did the first pressing of the CD sell out across North America (the second press which should arrive in stores very soon), I got the promo cd stolen by a former DJ at Reggie's Pub (you know who you are, dark haired girl with the pigtails!).

Luckily, prior to the maddeningly-ironic theft, I listened to it reverently over a period of several days and its songs have been comitted to my memory. Once you hear these tunes, you won't soon forget them, either. Bold and effortless, "Funeral" is not a droopy, depressing affair like the name might suggest; it is more like a wake where life's little miracles are celebrated and remembered.

The first track "Neighborhood #1 (Tunnels)" starts with Win Butler strumming insistently and exploring his quivery, confident vocal range. "Purify the colors / purify my mind / and spread the ashes of the colors / over this heart of mine" sings Win as the song builds to an anthemic denoument. After I heard this song played at high volume, I could feel the weight of my troubles being lifted from my shoulders.

Three of the songs are entitled Neighborhood but the strongest may be the second track, "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)". Spectral-voyage harmonics and chanted vocals in the first verse build up the tension when Sarah Neufeld's violin begins to leap out at you. Meanwhile, Régine's accordion holds the song together like silken string. "Laika" evokes images of a drug-addicted brother battling with his parents, much to the amusement of his voyeuristic neighbors. "When Daddy comes home, you'll start a fight / so the neighbors can dance / in the police disco lights". Utilitarians at heart, the whole band chides Alex for his indulgent behaviour by singing "It's for your own good / it's for the neighborhood".

"Crown of Love" sounds vaguely like a Bright Eyes song, only Win is closer to the prairies than he knows. I can even hear traces of Neil Young in his voice, even though Mr. Butler prefers Motown or soul music. When the band changes time near the end of the tune, the sadness of the track dissipates and the sun shines all over the place.



"Wake Up" may be in the running for "Song of the Year". Live, it is without rival, but they managed to trap that unknown quantity for the record. It begins with a haunting "Whoa" chorus which sounds almost like a Native American prayer, dispelling bad omens and inviting us to free ourselves from the trap of Western Living. "Children / Wake up / hold your / mistake up / before they / turn the summer into dust!" Win intones. "We're just a million little gods / causing rain storms!" "Wake Up" never fails to send a chill down my spinal column, reminding me that I'm mortal and that I must devour every single moment of my life.

There are several other keepers on "Funeral". "Rebellion (Lies)" always makes me think of the Pixies trying to cover a lost David Bowie song. Other reviewers have likened Win's voice to David Byrne but I must plead ignorance on this question (I've never even listened to the Talking Heads before, but so what if he does? Great bands don't crawl out of a Dirt Devil.) "In the Backseat" gives us a solemn Régine wishing that she could go back to the innocence of being young and unaware, before her family tree began to "lose all it's leaves". Her voice is like a kitten hiding beneath the sofa, gentle and wary of strangers, but full of love and sadness. The only stumble on "Funeral" is possibly the track "Haiti", if only because the guitar riff sounds cribbed from the Bloodhound Gang's "Fire Water Burn".

With all the critical acclaim that this album has received, it is tempting to kick over the sand castle and call "Funeral" several bad names. Personally, I couldn't care less about what the Pitchforks and Rolling Stones of the world think about the AF, because this band is as gifted as it is prolific (they wrote over 100 songs in the past few years but only recorded an EP & an LP) and they shall never be defeated. "Funeral" is a multi-tonal, bombastic compilation of unnatural musical beauty. Hands down, this is the best CD to touch my fingers in at least 5 years; like a cobweb in a doorway glistening with dew, "Funeral" will moisten your eyes and stick to your heart for ages.

For track samples, you can always visit their Allmusic.com album review or the Arcade Fire's website.

Live: The Paperbacks, Trailer, & the Weakerthans @ Club Soda, October 1st

Forgive me for taking so long to write this post; I've been suffering from a bad case of malaise since I saw the Weakerthans show on Friday night. My heart has been ground into paste and my eyes are sunken into my head. I feel like I witnessed the death of something pure.

Having scored some great seats--upper gallery, left side of the stage, right beside the Bose speakers--my pals and I were expecting a tour de force. Although we hadn't heard the two opening bands before, I was hoping that the mystical ability of John K. Samson would inspire the openers to do something magical. First up were a band from Winnipeg. The lead singer was very chatty and explained that he got the gig because he grew up with the Weakerthans. Tragically, the Paperbacks turned out to be a rehashed Sum 41/Dashboard Confessional purveyor of pop-punkisms. As the lead singer hopped around like a one-legged penguin, my friend Gen kept repeating "these guys suck." Although I wasn't ready to condemn them quite yet, it was only a matter of time.

Although their tunes are pleasant, the Paperbacks lack the heart and soul to be real punks. Instead, we have a singer who croons about how no girls love him, a bass player who thinks that he's in Limp Bizkit, a lead guitarist who hides in the background and tries his best to remain stoic while the ship is sinking, and a pretty good drummer. Yes, the man on the skins was the only one in the band who belonged up there; he actually looked like he had something to prove, bellowing into his microphone while keeping the beat, and that is the one saving grace of the Paperbacks.

When your drummer overshadows the rest of your band, it is time to start thinking about going into the insurance business. Another option for these guys is to give up the punk pretense and stick to soft rock, or perhaps start a record label and give their equipment to the first band they sign.

Next up was the local band Trailer. "Don't worry," I told Gen, "I'm sure these guys are going to rock." She nodded and sipped her Boreale Blonde. I could see the doubt in her eyes. According to the Pop Montreal site, Trailer play "(a) perfect mix of blues sensitivity and pop bliss." They sounded more confident than the opening act and their instrumentation was more diverse. Not unlike Wilco at some points, I must say that their countrified psychadelia was very well received by the crowd and I was digging their sound.

At one point, the violin player sat down at the piano and her voice reminded me of Ani DiFranco or possibly Tori Amos. Although their songs began to blend together into a seamless whole, I was fairly happy with their set, at least until the bizarre ode to Jesus and his saving graces in the last song (which was good but made my skin crawl--I don't respond well to preaching, unless it is from the Violent Femmes).

Then, the Weakerthans took the stage. The place was full by now and the crowd was elated, applauding wildly. I sat on the edge of my seat and waited for rain. I'm still waiting.

Before the show, I was ranting to Gen and Nick about how John K. Samson is a true poet. "He is the second coming of Leonard Cohen," I told them. I was ready to deify the poor guy. To their mutual annoyance, I rambled on and on about the way "Elegy for Elsabet" made me cry the first time I heard it. With a build-up like that, it is no small wonder that we were all let down.

John K. was chewing gum flippantly and playing as if he had punched a clock. I clenched my teeth and hoped that this was just a stumble. "They're just warming up," I thought. The first few songs were fast and hard but something was missing. The Weakerthans sound so humble and brave on their albums that I expected to hear something wonderful and anthemic at their live show. Instead, I had speedy pop-punkisms and a couple of older songs thrown in to pacify the rowdy fans in the back who didn't want to hear the new material.

"Aside" sounded fairly good but it didn't colour outside any lines. It was a connect-the-dots hit song, played efficiently like a German symphony, but without any chutzpah or joy. I flailed my head wildly, hoping that this song would be the beginning of a raucous second half of the set. Instead, it was the high-water mark of the show, and everything dribbled downhill from there.

Although I stayed for both encores, I felt a deep sense of loss by the end of the night. The shrine I had built to the Weakerthans in my head had been smashed by barbarian invaders. Live, they underwhelmed me. They're not hungry anymore. Sampson seemed bored and closed up on stage. Although his bandmates trudged on through the songs, he didn't seem to show any signs of joy, except maybe during the encores. Secretly, I wished that I had gone to the Unicorns show instead. It isn't enough to play your songs; you have to display them with passion, or pride, or something, anything except ho-hum consistency. The fact that I was sober was even more damning, because I didn't have the artificial flavouring of drunkeness to camouflage the awful taste in my mouth.

Maybe this was only an aberration; perhaps Samson was just having a rough night. Still, I have this sinking feeling that I should have seen them when they weren't famous, when they weren't getting stunning reviews in Exclaim; I can't go back in time but I wish I could. On Friday night, one of my favourite bands was stolen from me and replaced with a cynical, loveless group of imposters, incapable of changing the world. I expected more from the Weakerthans and that is why I got burned. I think I'm going to drink a bottle of whiskey now.

Jeremy Brendan Complains to Teacher, Invites Further Bullying

My vitriol is unmatched! I am a white-hot ball of blogging fury! Exclaim has gone too far and now I'm sick and tired of sitting on my hands (They're getting sweaty under there, anyhow). Witness the hateful riposte I flung at Exclaim magazine tonight from my Operamail account:

Dear Exclaim!,

As a fervent admirer of your publication, I turned the other cheek when your profile on the Arcade Fire (Sept. '04) referenced my interview without proper attribution. I know that everyone hates bellyachers so I bit my lip and kept quiet, despite the way Michael Barclay called my blog a "fanzine". That was a real kick in the jewels.

Imagine my surprise when I opened the October issue of Exclaim and discovered that you wrote about another one of my favourite bands, Wolf Parade, only to post the wrong picture to accompany the write-up! I'm not sure who that is with the guitar string in his mouth--it could be Spencer, only he's a keyboardist--but you can be sure it isn't Dan, the guitarist & lead vocalist of WP.

This kind of amateurish journalism is what makes me want to quit the whole writing thing and become a hermit somewhere in Appalaicha. You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Despicably Yours,
Jeremy Brendan
"Jeremy Brendan--My Life as a Reptile"
http://jeremybrendan.blogspot.com

P.S. I still love y'all but redress is in order, wouldn't you say?

We shall see if they have the cojones to publish it in their "Letters" section. I would be satisfied with a simple correction in a future issue, although a job would be even better. Yes, I am a fucking sell-out. I would cut off my left leg to write for a vital Can-rock magazine like Exclaim.

Still, the email wasn't intended to earn me a spot on their masthead; I just want to see some justice from these navel-gazing scenesters. I am a modern-day John Wilkes, if you will. Let us see if the number 45 gets scrawled on the bathroom walls of Exclaim offices in the near future. Brendan and liberty!

[Ed. Note: JB, how do you expect to get their attention when you're parading around these twenty-dollar words like a pretentious Ontarian? "Redress"? What the fuck? Stick to rock criticism and let the big boys run their business.]

Bush Vs. Kerry: The First Debate

As I watched Bush dodge Kerry's constant attacks and accusations on CNN tonight, I couldn't help but think of a Bright Eyes song called "Bottom of Everything (We Must Sing)". When he played it live on television (I think it was on Late Night with Conan O'Brien), lead singer Connor Oberst said "This song is going out to the President and to the Governor of California...two men that I admire a lot...for their biceps and their creepy fascist agendas! One, two, six, six six..." before breaking into song. Could Oberst be a modern-day Bob Dylan? You tell me:

"We must talk in every telephone, get eaten off the web
We must rip out all the epilogues from the books that we have read
and in the face of every criminal strapped firmly to a chair
we must stare, we must stare, we must stare

We must take all of the medicines too expensive now to sell
Set fire to the preacher who is promising us hell
and in the ear of every anarchist who sleeps but doesn't dream
We must sing, we must sing, we must sing

While my mother waters plants, my father loads his gun
He says death will give us back to God just like setting sun
is returned to the lonesome ocean"

Although I've chopped out at least one verse and a modified final chorus, I hope that you can see how this song would be relevant in contemporary America. "Don't vote for the Dems or Osama is going to getcha!" the GOP screeches, without considering that it was under a Republican's watch that the most devastating terror attack transpired. They are selling fear and I hope America won't buy it.

I know that some people are convinced that Kerry is a flip-flopper. This isn't necessarily a bad thing. If you were steering your vehicle into a ditch, wouldn't it make sense to jerk the wheel in the other direction? Bush might say "remain steadfast and don't change course" but quite frankly, that is the equivalent of saying that a President's decisions are both infallible and static. How can you run a nation (and protect them from harm's way) if you can't even admit when you're wrong?

Say what you will about the late Ronald Reagan, but at least he had the balls to stand up and admit his responsibility for the Contra affair. I hope that Americans remember this when they go to the polls on November 1st.

A paranoid part of me wants to believe that the whole Iraq War in 2003 was just a diversion tactic by the Bush Administration to draw attention away from economic woes, those notorious tax cuts (and elimination of the dividend tax), and Bush's failure to capture Osama Bin Laden. If you conduct a search of the Whitehouse official site, you will find that the last mention of Bin Laden was back in July! Of course, can you blame Bush? He's busy being a war president.

John Kerry looked fairly confident in the debate but I was frightened by echoes of famous Democratic loser Michael Dukakis, as Kerry spoke. Kerry may have come across as a mean-spirited fellow, not a fence-mending rancher/Marlboro man like George W. Bush or his template Ronald Reagan. Kerry did get some jabs in about Bush's lack of military service and he also played his experienced leader/fresh start card several times. Bush looked befuddled frequently and had some issues with the English language, but he is like a sidewinder. He always gets away.

The funny thing is that Bush and Reagan do have something in common--they both avoided military service. Reagan got off because he was an actor while Bush escaped from Vietnam because he had a wealthy father. Some guys get all the breaks.

[Ed. Note: Looks like Kerry is back in this thing. A USA Today poll suggests that Kerry was perceived as a good speaker and many people (including those crucial "swing voters") are beginning to believe that JFK might be up to the task of running the country. Bush, on the other hand, looked slightly disturbed by many of the questions. Also, he repeated himself quite frequently and even spouted a couple of illogical statements. Also, how many times can you repeat that being President is "hard work"? Pleasure Captains.com has posted a video entitled "How Bush did" which is somewhat humourous but fairly revealing of Bush's poor showing. Admittedly, they've chopped up some of his responses (which is a form of propaganda, taking things out of context) but many of the statements are bizarre on their own, context be damned. Watch the video on their site and come back to let me know if you think that Bush has hurt his chances of re-election.]

What did you think of the first Presidential debate? Did Bush hold his ground? Does Kerry have any momentum going into the next debate? Please comment below!

Live: Arcade Fire @ Salvation Army Citadel, Sat. Sept. 25th

I've never been to a concert completely sober before. That is, of course, unless you count my pre-boozy days as a child, but that's just nit-picking. Point is, it generally takes a couple of beers to get me in the rock 'n roll mood. Last Saturday, that just wasn't necessary. Perhaps I've been saved.

The Arcade Fire get way too much attention from this blog but I can't help it--they give off that cult vibe like the Causey Way, only AF fans don't try to spike the Kool-Aid; musically, they are both challenging and accessible, meaning they can speak to the cool kids and to the geeks simultaneously; above all, their songwriting is pure orchestrated sonic alchemy, mixing that indie thing with elements of soul, 60's rock, 80's post-rock, and even occasionally a countrified flavour (witness the beginning of "Crown of Love" from their Funeral LP to see what I mean).

When I heard that they were going to play in a church, I was a little bit hesitant and kind of wary. I half expected them to announce that all along, they were really a Christian rock band and that we were all being baptised in the name of our Saviour. Bizarre thoughts like this would make any self-respecting agnostic shudder. Luckily, they just wanted a room with great acoustics. The show was pure and cultivated and we didn't mind that the lights were on. In fact, I've never seen 600 Montreal rock fans go so long without a cigarette.


(Salvation Army Logo)

On the stage, there was an engraving that read "Redeemed". Their keyboard was a "Prophet 6000". As they played their virtuosic double-bill (the opening band couldn't make it!), I couldn't help but notice the Salvation Army flag in the corner that read "Blood and Fire". Despite the odd surroundings, they kept the crowd on its feet for the whole show. I couldn't help but sing along to several of the songs, to the disappointment of many concert-goers around me.

Highlights were all over the place like Couche-Tards, but I'd have to say that "Wake Up" was the song of the night. "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)" was also very well done, although my friend Gen preferred "Rebellion (Lies)". "No Cars Go" never fails to disappoint either.

Régine showed off her honed singing skills (she sounds more confident than the last time I saw her on stage) and the crowd was musically pacified. "In the Backseat" turned out to be one of their better songs, even though it didn't stand out when I listened to "Funeral". [Ed. Note: As soon as I track down the DJ from Reggie's Pub, who accidentally nabbed my Promo Copy, I will post a review of "Funeral" on JB.] Plaintive and moody, it built up slowly but surely, until cascading into a powerful crescendo near the end of the song.


(Photo courtesy of the Montreal Mirror)

Admittedly, the AF are not for everyone. If you listen to Simple Plan or anything formulaic, you may have trouble with AF songs. If you are a hip-hop backpacker, this may not turn your crank (unless you dig soul music or luminaries like K-OS). Likewise, if you are like my cousin and can't appreciate a band if they're local, keep the line moving and thanks for stopping by. No offense if you're from the preceeding categories. You're people too.

Here is a nice set of Arcade Fire photos from the live show. [Ed. Note: Kudos to Dirty Water for the snazzy shots!] If you're sick and tired of listening to canned music being pissed out of 4000 watt speakers at your local techno orifice, I would suggest that you attend an Arcade Fire show. Salvation can be bought after all; it only cost me eight bucks on Saturday.

The Arcade Fire are on tour! New Yorkers and Bostonians are being spoiled by two fine bands for the price of one--the Hidden Cameras are orgasmically talented. Anyone who sings a line like "The drugs get dealt / and the cocks get felt / on the church grounds" deserves your undivided attention.
===

Sun 9/26
Black Sheep Inn,
Wakefield, Quebec
(25 minutes north of Ottawa)

Wed 9/29
Kingston ON,
TBA

Thurs. 9/30
The Trasheteria (Club Vinyl)
Guelph, ON
w/The Barmitvah Bros.

Fri. 10/01
Lee's Palace
Toronto, ON
w/Bell Orchestre

Sat. 10/02
The Underground,
Hamilton ON
w/Bell Orchestre & Heston Rifle

Wed. 10/13
CMJ Merge Records Showcase
(Mercury Lounge)
New York, NY

11/5
Halifax Pop Explosion
Halifax, NS
The Marquee
w/The Organ

11/11
Bowery Ballroom
New York, NY
w/ The Hidden Cameras

11/12
T.T. the Bears
Boston, MA
w/The Hidden Cameras

11/13
Cornell University-
Noyes Community Center
Ithaca, NY

11/14
First Unitarian Church
Philadelphia, PA
TBA

11/15
Garfield Artworks
Pittsburgh, PA

11/26
Empty Bottle
Chicago, IL

[Ed. Note: In other AF-related news (Gulp. I almost feel like I'm their unpaid P.R. person, for fuck's sake!), Merge Records is promoting the "Funeral" LP with a flashy animation on their main site. You can listen to the full version of "Neighborhood #2 (Laika)" for a limited time only. That is all.]

Ed Harcourt Plays a Mean Hammond!

He looks like Canuck Wunderkind Hawksley Workman--he even wears one of those strange furry hats like H.W.--but he's more a soul brother to Connor Oberst. I'm talking about Ed Harcourt, and don't let his plain-Jane name fool you. He's hiding musical gems beneath solid rock.

I downloaded his song "Something to Live For" and it jarred me from my woozy slumber. Still enjoying the after-effects of the Arcade Fire concert on Saturday (at the Salvation Army Citadel! Fucking A+), his plaintive, slightly moody drawl with a tinge of British accent (?) made me smile.

Don't take my word for it. I'm just some hack with a keyboard and two barely functional eardrums. Check out his website for streaming audio and some of the good press he's gotten. [Ed. Note: Your grammar skills are turning into soup. Can you remind me why I keep you around, JB?]

Because you need me. Get lost, Ed. boy.

Ed Harcourt is playing in the UK right now:

October
Sun 31 - Portsmouth - Wedgewood Rooms - 02392 863 911

November
Mon 1 - Brighton - Concord 2 - 01273 772 770
Tue 2 - Oxford - Zodiac - 01865 420 042
Wed 3 - Norwich - Waterfront - 01603 508 050
Fri 5 - Bristol - Fleece - 0117 929 9008 / 0871 22 00 260
Sat 6 - Brimingham - Academy 2 - 0870 771 2000 / 0871 22 00 260
Sun 7 - Leeds - Cockpit - 0113 245 5570
Tue 9 - Glasgow - Cottier Theatre - 0870 169 0100
Wed 10 - Nottingham - Rescue Rooms - 0115 958 8484
Thurs 11 - Liverpool - University, Stanley Theatre - 0151 256 5555
Fri 12 - Manchester - Royal Northern College Of Music - 0161 907 5555 / 0871 22 00 260
Sun 14 - London - Madame Jo Jo's - 0207 403 3331 / 0871 22 00 260
Mon 15 - London - Madame Jo Jo's - 0207 403 3331 / 0871 22 00 260

Bush's Guided Tour of the Oval Office

Bush may not have a plan for pulling out of Iraq, but he does have time to give guided tours of the Oval Office.

"The job of a president is to set big goals for the country," Bush says. "Big objectives. And in order to achieve those objectives, the country must be united."

Like...bombing other countries? Increasing medicare premiums? Letting jobs slip away to foreign shores while plants close down all around America?



Admiring his presidential rug, proudly crafted by his wife Laura, he notes that the eagle on the seal faces the olive branch in its left-hand talon, not the right-hand claw full of arrows. (Funny. Left=olive branch, Right=arrows, ie. Anti-war movement versus Neo-Con Attack Squad.)

"Of course, it's always important to make sure you got enough arrows in the talons to keep the peace," he admits.

Pointing to the massive desk in front of the window, he says "...this door was put on the desk by Franklin Roosevelt to cover his infirmities."

One painting on his wall shows a horseman riding up a steep cliff. Weird symbol, but it is analagous to the way Bush leads his nation. They're a pack animal and he's riding them right into a bottomless pit. "A president must serve himself, not his self interests," Bush says, unaware of the irony inherent in his statement.

"The other paintings are all from Texas. It's where I'm from, and where I'm going."

Patting a bust of Churchill affectionately, he says "I like Churchill because he was a great war leader, he was resolute, and he had a fabulous sense of humour."

"My family is a priority in my life," Bush says. That's for sure...my guess is that your priority is definately not your nation. You're leading them up a steep cliff and the shale rock is chipping away as you gallop. When will America realize what a swindle you're roping them into? The whole Iraq quagmire was probably just a front to cover the billions of dollars you stole from the treasury to pay for your millionaire-friendly tax cuts and elimination of the dividend tax.

Kerry may not be perfect but at least he'll choose a cabinet that isn't war hungry. Also, he's being watched by the progressive side of his party so he won't step on any toes, aside from the Pharmaceutical/HMO cronies and possibly the military/industrial complex that Eisenhower warned us about. If you have any love for your land at all, vote Kerry in 2004.

This message was brought to you by Ralph Nader. [Ed. Note: We're fibbing about the Nader thing. Ralph is busy nipping at Kerry's heels in all the swing states. Admittedly, John Kerry isn't exactly helping himself by being so stiff and impersonal on camera. Bush seems like a good ol' boy, which will play well in the populous southern bible belt. I'm scared shitless.]

Jeremy Brendan- "Foie Gras" MP3

It will be a challenge to write meaningful lyrics for a song entitled "Foie Gras" but I'm sure both Ween and Guided By Voices could succeed. Ever listen to "Vallejo"? Pure brilliance. Likewise about GBV.

Jeremy Brendan- "On a Cellphone" MP3

The hiss near the end borders on annoying, but that's what happens when Rogers Wireless drops packets of audio traffic.

A Text Every American Should Read (at least once!)

Liberal bad-boy Michael Moore may be a master propagandist, as his critics claim so fervently, but he certainly does know how to track down articles that mean something. He posted a piece on his website, written by Garrison Keillor, which sums up the situation in America perfectly.

In lieu of repeating his points and ruining the subtlety of his argument, I will simply post the first paragraph and ask you to follow the link below for the rest of the brilliant text. Please forward it to every American you know and feel free to leave your thoughts here (or anywhere else available, ie. on bathroom walls, chalkboards in your school, your own blog, etc.)

As much as we "foreigners" criticize and poke fun at America, we still want them to be happy and don't want to see them become a neo-fascist entity or a 4th-Reichian Plutocracy. Above all, let peace reign & may the Good Guys win. (Kerry may not be FDR but he's anybody but Bush!)

Without further ado,

"Something has gone seriously haywire with the Republican Party. Once, it was the party of pragmatic Main Street businessmen in steel-rimmed spectacles who decried profligacy and waste, were devoted to their communities and supported the sort of prosperity that raises all ships. They were good-hearted people who vanquished the gnarlier elements of their party, the paranoid Roosevelt-haters, the flat Earthers and Prohibitionists, the antipapist antiforeigner element. The genial Eisenhower was their man, a genuine American hero of D-Day, who made it OK for reasonable people to vote Republican." More...

Ancient Wisdom from a Departed Soul

"One thing that really fucked me up at Creem was that I got caught up in the whole idea that Lester Bangs was this thing, this idea. I call it like Hunter Thompsonism. It's when you pay more attention to your image than you do to your work. And that destroys your writing. Hunter Thompson's never gonna do anything good again as long as he lives. I don't think anybody really cares about his drug habits."

Lester Bangs being interviewed by Jim DeRogatis in 1982. Two weeks later, he was found dead in his home.
* ~ * ~ * ~ *
I think that I'm going to print out those words and staple-gun them to the walls of my apartment (and my cubicle, if I'm ever forced to squat in one of those unholy spaces hunched over a sticky keyboard).

Just like an old friend Dennis once told me, it's not about your persona; it's about the art you bring forth. Who gives a fuck whether you're drunk off your ass on Wild Turkey? The people want something great, something excellent. What they don't want is some half-witted malarky cobbled together by an addict desparate for his next fix.

I'm not trying to badger you all. Talk about vanity press; this post is for me, to resuscitate that will to disturb that is so important for a journalist. Don't get me started on fraudulent shitheads like most of the staff of the National Post--while they are probably very nice people, their words reveal that they are soulless and willing to kneel for the master--I guess what I really want to say is that I'm in this for the long haul and I won't be known as an easy lay.

Here is my pledge to you all. I won't interview a band or musician whom I don't consider fucking excellent. I also won't become a "corporate shill" (as per Lester's rant in the interview) and my business is not to encourage sales but to discourage shitty music from being released into the general population. I'm a doctor and all futile, commerical tunes are under quarantine from now on.

Also, I have to call on you guys for a little help over here. I need writers, photographers, actors, thieves, or anybody who has a will to create something. Send me your material and I'll see if I can include it on Jeremy Brendan. (My email is @ the top right hand side of the page unless your browser is crippled)

Don't forget about the little "Comment" button below each post. Leave me some feedback, you scurvy-ridden mongrels! I don't mean that...I love you all. I'm just trying to light a fire under your ass so that you'll bother to actually give me some criticism. Without it, I am a withering little fern behind thick, stuffy drapes. My chlorophyll is nearly gone already and you are all sunrays. Feed me. I'll owe you one.