Thursday, 2 August 2018

review: Jeff Beck at Budweiser Stage, Toronto




I saw Jeff Beck tonight.  It was transcendental.

The evening began with sets by Ann Wilson of Heart and Paul Rodgers of Free/Bad Company.  Both were brilliant, and showed no signs of slowing down in their late 60s.  Rodgers finished his set proper with Rock 'n' Roll Fantasy, with the final words being the ad libbed "it's my dream".  In that exact moment I realized how grateful we should all be that these legendary musicians are putting their bodies through hell for months at a time on the road so that we can be entertained for a couple hours, despite being past what the rest of us would reasonably consider to be retirement age.




And then Jeff Beck began his set with a piece off his latest album.  It didn't take long to realize that his guitar has as unique a voice as the singers who preceded him.  He's possibly the best rock guitarist I've ever seen, demonstrating pure artistry through and through.  As Jimmy Page repeatedly said when he inducted Beck into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2009, "he just keeps getting better and better."

So many of the performers from days of yore rest on their laurels, but Beck has always pushed himself to stretch the limits of where the guitar can go.  This was the furthest thing from a nostalgia show.  Now age 74, he has thus long earned the right to play what he wants.  Despite having 17 studio albums under his belt, he did mostly covers, crossing many genres.  The second song was the beautiful Nadia from his early 2000s electronica period, and Mná na h-Éireann is a folk song based on an 18th century Irish poem.




Many of the pieces were different arrangements from what he had done on previous tours, like his encore of the Corpus Christi Carol, this time performed only with his cellist Vanessa Freebairn-Smith.  The man is constantly innovating.

Like Frank Zappa, the guitar is an extension of his brain, and he never plays a piece the same way twice.  Instead of using a pick, he oscillates between his thumb and index fingers.  He has created a secret handshake on his instrument that is so distinctly him.  His sound is as instantly recognizable as David Gilmour's or Brian May's.  But to call him an innovative guitarist doesn't entirely capture his essence.  He has carved his own brand of creative expression.  He is without equal.




Beck always chooses the finest musicians to tour with.  Canadian bassist Rhonda Smith, known for her work with Prince, played brilliantly throughout.  Beck is always playing with new people, expanding the sound of his ensemble and never wanting to repeat himself.  But legendary drummer Vinnie Colaiuta is one of the mainstays, whenever he is available.  I can't believe I paid $45 to see this many of the greats on one night.




Vocalist Jimmy Hall wasn't on stage for the first four songs, which leaves the audience thinking it's an instrumental show (which I would have been entirely fine with).  A brilliant vocalist, Hall sang six songs to add variety to the show as it progressed, including two of the more recognizable tunes, Little Wing and Superstition, the latter of which Beck helped Stevie Wonder write.

Stevie's Cause We've Ended as Lovers, one of Beck's signature pieces, was delivered with authority and grace, as was the set closer, A Day In The Life.  The latter sees a fine balance of Beck's emotive and playful style, and the build to the final chord left the audience in great anticipation for the crashing finale.




His British humility showed at the end of the night after introducing the band.  After Colaiuta signaled to him, he joked - "oh, it's just a piece of wood with wires."

I haven't been this inspired after seeing a show in probably a decade.  It reinforced every feeling and thought I've had to date that has told me I don't ever want to have a day job.  One cannot have a day job and work on their craft to become even 1/10th of the well-rounded musician Jeff Beck is.  It is a dedication that requires focus, persistence, and zero compromise.

Big name Toronto musicians like Kim Mitchell of Max Webster fame and Geddy Lee of Rush attended the show.  Mike Turner, formerly of Our Lady Peace, summed up the show to me in two words:

"The. Master."

And when your peers are that bold and conclusive, that says it all.



Saturday, 12 May 2018

Ten Canadian albums that most people under 50 do not know and should




#1 - Hope by Klaatu




Klaatu was a big deal when they came out in 1976. In a time (keep in mind it's barely post-Vietnam) when nearly everyone thought the world would be a better place if The Beatles reunited, along came Klaatu with a couple tracks on their debut album that sounded so close to The Beatles that people thought it was the fab four in disguise. It was actually a Canadian band who'd just dropped onto the map. But for me it's their sophomore effort that best defines them. 1977's "Hope" is a concept album, beautifully crafted with an uplifting conclusion. Essential listening.





#2 - The Langley Schools Music Project





This is a piece of art unlike any other. Recorded in 1976-77 but unreleased until 2001, this is an hour of music sung and performed by several groups of school children in British Columbia, although with a twist - it is not traditional children's music. The children and their teacher (who started the project) rejected the idea that kids' music should be perpetually happy and upbeat, as it didn't accurately reflect the range of emotion children feel. While there are some peppier numbers like Good Vibrations and Sweet Caroline, they balanced the scale by expressing equally genuine and universal feelings like loneliness and sadness. Pieces like God Only Knows, Space Oddity, The Long and Winding Road (sung solo by a 10 year old), and Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft (see: Klaatu above) are beautiful and sometimes challenging listens.

The kids play all the instruments too, and the songs carry vibes that range from Philip Glass to Phil Spektor to Gregorian Chant. I'm Into Something Good sounds more like gospel than a silly pop song.

Even in 2001, it took ten record labels for one to finally say yes to release this. That in itself is proof that we have such a long way to go in undercutting stigmas in our understanding of children (and ourselves). This music serves as a reminder that it is okay to express any feeling or idea, not just the ones that society or Facebook say are more worthy of air time than others.

Even if the technical execution isn't always perfect, this is one of the most genuine expressions of feelings through music you will ever experience.





#3 - Jaune by Jean-Pierre Ferland





While plenty of Canadians may not be in touch with their musical heritage, this cannot be said for Quebec and Newfoundland, who tend to wear their culture on their sleeve. While the rest of Canada is used to looking at magazine racks with mostly American content, in Quebec they have their movie stars and their music. And they have classic albums that they cherish like this one from 1970.

It is easily as good as anything the British or west coast folk movements came up with in the period. The sound is warm, the arrangements are beautifully crafted, and the influences and colours are many. It somehow manages to sound both of its time and like it was recorded yesterday.

"God Is An American" is satire at its finest, and it's almost like it's Quebec's answer to Glenn Gould's "So You Want To Write A Fugue" - absolutely brilliant.

And if you're not sold yet - in 1971, John Lennon said this was North America's best album of the year.

And for all you prog heads - a young Tony Levin is on bass.

If Lake Louise and the Bay Of Fundy are what Canada looks like, then albums like this are what Canada sounds like.





#4 - The Goldberg Variations by Glenn Gould





Undoubtedly one of the most visionary and influential musicians ever to play an instrument, this is his definitive work. His original 1955 interpretation of these works by Bach are what put him on the map, but the 1981 version has a certain maturity and wisdom to it. His playful approach towards this musical scripture set him apart from his peers, and his iconic and subtle humming along (which no recording engineer could ever manage to remove) is not a detraction - it is all part of the charm. He was seen by many as an eccentric mad man, and I'm sure he wouldn't have resented that label. It takes a mad man to make 200 year old music completely new again.

This is one of the most important recordings of the last hundred years. And it is Canadian.





#5 - High Class In Borrowed Shoes by Max Webster





While virtually unknown outside of Canada, Max Webster were a massive force in their day. Led by Kim Mitchell, they were a sort of Canadian Frank Zappa, but more accessible. All their records went at least gold here, and at their peak they were regularly cited as being amongst the top few acts in the country.

Their 1977 sophomore effort is likely their finest. Their left of centre quirkiness (both musical and lyrical) defined them, and they created a sound entirely of their own with slick musicianship and hooks all over. No two consecutive tracks have the same vibe, yet it is a cohesive piece. Many of them remain radio classics, like the title track, Gravity, and Diamonds Diamonds. On The Road is perhaps the finest travelling musician song ever written, and In Context Of The Moon says more in 5 minutes than most prog bands could say in 20.

They are often seen as Rush's little brother, but anyone who was around then will tell you that they more than held their own, and how criminal it is that they did not get their due. Max Webster may well be Canada's best kept secret, and High Class In Borrowed Shoes is probably the best explanation why.





#6 - Cyborgs Revisited by Simply Saucer





Simply Saucer are best described as a proto-punk band. They recorded just one album in 1974, although it wasn't released until 1989 (only a 7" single was released while they were around). Their sound was kind of a cross between the Velvet Underground, Kraftwerk, and Television - and that third one is what makes them most interesting, as they came up with this punky sound several years before punk even happened, which is nothing short of revolutionary.

Side A of the album is the aforementioned studio material, and side B is a live recording from 1975. Although this Hamilton, Ontario band remains pretty obscure, the album was reviewed by two publications as, I quote, "the best Canadian album ever recorded." It garnered favourable reviews from bigger magazines like Spin and New Musical Express as well.

The music is simultaneously visionary and kind to its predecessors. Well worth a listen.

I'm also happy to report that after several decades of absence, they have reunited and play pretty regularly.





#7 - Acadie by Daniel Lanois





Not only is this musically one of the greatest records ever made (not just in Canada), but sonically it is beautiful.  Released in 1989, when technology had gone amok and most records had snare drum triggers and dated synthesizer sounds, this still sounds like it was recorded yesterday.

Lanois had come off the success of producing two massive albums for U2, and had nothing to prove.  He had time and space (and he had Brian Eno, which also didn't hurt), and that's exactly what this album sounds like - it breathes freely.  The songs are marvellous and soulful.  "The Maker" is one of the finest tracks ever written, easily as good as any of U2's best songs from the period.

This record is one of the most genuine pieces of art to emerge from the 1980s.  There is nothing quite like it.





#8 - Discovery by Ron Hynes





Ron Hynes was Newfoundland's Gordon Lightfoot, only he wasn't nearly as prolific. This 1972 album is his only released pre-1990s work, and it's easily as good as anything released by Bob Dylan or Leonard Cohen in the period. It has everything you'd expect from a quality folk album - introspection, longing, and wisdom far beyond the years of a man at 22.

Albums like this reach into the psyche of a person better than any therapist or bottle of booze could. It's as real as it gets.





#9 - Somewhere Outside by The Ugly Ducklings





The Ugly Ducklings only put out one album in their heyday, but they made their mark.  This 1966 long player was psychedelic garage rock mostly influenced by the British invasion (particularly The Kinks and The Who), but a bit more rough around the edges - and I mean that in the most flattering of ways.  There is attitude, musicality, and songwriting as good as anything happening at the time.  Their most commercially successful song was Gaslight a year later, but it is this album that remains their most important work.

The last song, the bluesy instrumental Windy City, is way ahead of its time.  Its loose guitar and harmonica is early Led Zeppelin before early Led Zeppelin.

The Ugly Ducklings opened for The Rolling Stones at Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto in 1966.  Mick Jagger called them his favourite Canadian band.






#10 - Canadiana Suite by Oscar Peterson





Oscar's trio is at the peak of their powers in a 1964 to create one of the most beautiful jazz albums ever recorded.  The eight tracks are named after different places in the country, and they are eight distinctly different musical landscapes, with influences ranging from ragtime to blues.

While Oscar's chops are out of this world, he plays with a sensitivity that creates a musical expression of the vast space this great country has.  It leaves the listener with the feeling that no matter where you are, there is empty space for peace and solace not far from you - a takeaway that is probably more relevant today than ever.

Sonically it is also a marvel.  It's almost impossible to believe that technology over 50 years old could create an album that sounds this magnificent.





#11 - Si on avait besoin d'une cinquième saison by Harmonium




Narrowing it down to ten albums was impossible.  And this last one is more than an honourable mention.

Harmonium was once referred to as the "most important Canadian band ever" by the Toronto Sun.  1975's "Si On Avait Besoin d'Une Cinquième Saison" (roughly translated as "If We Needed a Fifth Season") merited a mention in Rolling Stone magazine's long overdue list of their top 50 progressive rock albums of all time in 2015 (and they also declared it the best progressive folk album).

The traditional rock band instrumentation notably isn't employed here, as there are are no drums and plenty of woodwinds.  The music is often playful and whimsical, executed without the slightest sense of inhibition.  The album begins with four shorter tracks, one for each season of the year.  The summer track "Dixie" has a jazzy ragtime feel to it, and the autumn track "Depuis l'automne" is haunting and pastoral.

But it is the longer fifth track (representing a mythical fifth season) that takes up most of side two and elevates the album from excellent to otherworldly.  This track, the mostly instrumental Histoires Sans Paroles (Song Without Words), is one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever committed to tape.

And to much of Quebec, this is their folk music.  There are numerous videos of bands covering this piece.  Here's a group of high school kids performing it note perfect:





Saturday, 6 January 2018

review: The Musical Box at Danforth Music Hall, Toronto


Last night I saw The Musical Box - truly one of the best shows I've ever seen.
Maybe it's not the greatest idea begin a review with an editorial, but this is one those shows that was so obviously good that no time should be wasted in building up to a punch line. To those not in the know, The Musical Box are not just a tribute band, but the standard for what a tribute band can and should be. They perform the music of Genesis, but not the "Invisible Touch" Genesis most of us know. It's the Genesis fronted by Peter Gabriel in the early to mid 1970s, when they created progressive rock music that told stories, kind of like Mark Twain in musical form.


The music isn't just rock songs. It is densely layered and intricately arranged. It is intense. It creates moods anywhere between 1 and 23 minutes long.

This particular show I saw aimed to replicate the Genesis tour of 1974. The set before the encores was 9 songs and over two hours long. Sounds like a pretty niche thing, you say? Well, it is. Most things are these days.


When Genesis performed live at this time, not only was it a musical performance, but Peter Gabriel donned outfits and masks of the various characters portrayed in the songs. This tribute band replicates the Genesis shows to perfection, both musically and visually, to the point that the Genesis band members gave them their blessing in the form of their multi-track master tapes to work with so that they could improve the show.

Gabriel once took his son to see them and said, "that's what daddy used to do."

Is there any higher praise?

If you had dementia and didn't know what year it was, you were seeing Genesis. There are a lot of good tribute bands out there doing all the great artists, but no other act gets this close.

This is art in its purest form. It's rock, it's classical, and it's theatre. I walked away from this show realizing that this is the classical music of our time. People may have been stoned in 1974 at Maple Leaf Gardens, but last night at the Danforth Music Hall they were sober, and absorbing every word and visual delight they could.


It kind of makes me want to create a counterpart for Queen's shows in 1976-77. They were a pretty majestic entity at that time, with a similar balance of music and visuals. Similarly niche, and therefore possible. Food for thought.




Believe it or not, they actually existed before We Are The Champions.



If you have even remotely good taste in music, then The Musical Box is a show you absolutely must see. It is one of the very finest productions the music industry has ever produced. They tour every year.


Wednesday, 17 May 2017

review: Adrian Belew at the Mod Club, Toronto



Adrian Belew my mind last night.

He's an intellect yet accessible.

Studied yet endlessly creative.

Calculated yet organic.




This incarnation of his trio has played together for six years.  They are flawlessly tight, yet it feels fresh.  The balance of arrangement and improvisation is excellent, neither of which ever outstay their welcome.

Belew was quirky.  There were plenty of funny bits, both musical and visual - anything from pretending his guitar was broken to playing out of sync shots with the drummer to hilarious effect.  Never before have I seen an artist whose sense of humour was equally integral to the performance as the music.  This is what I've heard seeing Max Webster circa 1975-79 was like.

I admittedly didn't know much of the material.  He is best known as being a member of King Crimson and for his stints with Frank Zappa and David Bowie (who essentially stole him from Zappa, which Belew wrote about in two parts shortly after Bowie died).  Nearly half the setlist was from his King Crimson years, and the rest was from his extensive solo catalog, save for one track from Lodger (the one Bowie album he played on).  Even if a solid portion of the show was 30+ year old music, this is the furthest thing from a nostalgia act.




Bassist Julie Slick's chops and presentation were equally strong, maneuvering the challenging parts with ease, and she even added swimming goggles to her dazzling ensemble at one point.  Completing the trio is the masterfully artistic Tobias Ralph on drums.  The rhythm section was technical yet fluid, and not the least bit sterile.  The three of them interacted like a family.  They genuinely enjoy playing together.

In sharp contrast to his bassist, Belew looked like a gas station attendant, dressed in a black onesie with a red baseball cap.

And I've never seen a musician sweat like him.  He had a towel next to him, wiping himself off several times per song.  Even his fingers were dripping, but they were never slippery.  His playing was pristine.  He's 67, with the energy level of someone who's 27.  Watching him left me exhausted - the best kind of exhausted that a good show in a sweaty pit can leave you.

And to think performing with an experimental power trio is just one of the things he does.  He has a string of solo albums with Beatle-esque songs (yet completely in his own identity; 1992's Inner Revolution is my favourite), he's a serial multi-instrumentalist, and he's an innovator - his latest creation is an app with a musical algorithm that never plays back the same way twice.

His website hails him as "a creative force for the good of mankind."  It's impossible to disagree.  About 500 people were united through music in its purest form.




He smiled for about 90% of the night.  His precision as a guitarist cannot be overstated, and neither can his gentlemanly nature.  His demeanour was that of a man who just does not take himself seriously.  His craft, yes, but not himself as a person.  He is a man completely at peace with who he is, fully realizing that a bigger venue would mean a loss of intimacy.

The band played two sets.  During intermission I ran into my old pal and colleague Tristan Avakian, who declared that our guest of honour was the right lunatic for this asylum.

How right he was.

Tuesday, 15 November 2016

Donald Trump explained for Artists




In case you've been living under a rock, Donald Trump is now the US president-elect.  And people are legitimately frightened not only for their livelihoods, but their lives. Just click here, here, and here to see what Trump's rise to power produced in the first 48 hours. It ain't pretty.

Those who minimize this by asserting that it's how Republicans felt in 2008 after Barack Obama was elected are in need of a serious reality check. The only person fearing for their life in 2008 was Obama. The bulletproof glass was for him, not for us.



  (NBC News / msnbc.com)                                                       

Points to whoever's idea it was to save a few bucks by giving the guy who checks guns at the door the night off.



But we must be careful not to characterize all Trump supporters as hateful bigots. Hell, even Hillary fell for that. Her lack of understanding of what neoliberalism has done to America is what's deplorable here.

Or, in plain English - the majority of small town folk are scared, full stop. Their way of life is disappearing.

This election revealed a magnetic reversal of the political poles in America.  Sure, the Democrats have unsurprisingly attracted the enlightened professional class, having embraced multi-culturalism and caught up to 21st century social ideals as implemented by the rest of the civilized world while drinking all the lattes that their decent salaries can buy.

But there's one important omission this time around:

The working class.

Disillusioned blue collar voters who have marked an X on the Democratic candidate for the last half century have abandoned the party that abandoned them. Trump is their man. He says trade deals have screwed them.

Republicans, on the other hand, are now rejecting unbridled free market capitalism, which has basically been their entire platform since rotary telephones.

It may be surprising to most, but some people called this as far back as the mid 1990s, never mind Noam Chomsky.

Rural America finally feels like they have a voice again for the first time in decades. And urban America is scratching their heads wondering how a bigot just got handed the nuclear codes.



(20th Century Fox)                                                       

"It's pronounced 'nuc-u-lar'."



Card-carrying members of the two parties hate each other now more than ever, and most of them don't even know why.  How do we get them to talk to each other?

I have just the solution.

Let's start by framing this in a way the artistic community and anyone with a vested interest in the field can understand.

We have seen cuts to the arts over the last century. When schools fall short of budget, what's the first thing to go?

The arts.

Even some governments make cuts to the arts. Hell, even as far back as Churchill this discussion was happening.  During World War II, expenditures had peaked and they needed more money.  "How about we dip into the arts?" suggested one well-meaning bean counter.  But rationality prevailed, as the British PM quipped, "Then what are we fighting for?"

So this isn't crazy talk.  It's real to all of us who make a living in the creative field. We don't want to see orchestras shut down. We don't want to see films stuck in the pre-production stage because the money didn't turn up.




  (ANONYMOUS / AP)                                                       

Although we can probably all agree that Jersey Shore shouldn't have even made it to the editing stages.



Now let's take it a step further - where the arts are eliminated altogether.

No music, no TV, no films, no visual art, no drama, no fiction, no poetry, no video games.

Sound ludicrous?

Not to about 50 million Americans.  This is how they feel right now.  They used to work in a factory that shut down.  Or a coal mine. And they live in a ghost town now, because that factory is literally all they had.  They couldn't care less about how the big cities are doing well.  They're broke, and their kids are sick of Kraft Mac & Cheese.




And it's Heinz Mac & Cheese now.



And if you talk to one of them about this, they'll mention the generations before them.  Let's stick with the arts language for perspective:

"But my father was a musician, and my father's father was a musician.  It's all we knew."

Just entertain the idea that the public education system sucks (it does), your IQ level is about 85, and you have few tools for intellectual improvement because this just isn't what your community did. You learned to be a musician, because that's all you needed to be. Things like depending on government handouts and seeing the big city as more than a possible vacation destination were completely foreign to you (without a passport that's about all there is - two thirds of Americans don't have one).  You played music, because that's all you needed to do to feed your family, and you were content to do that and only that.  But now all the music jobs are gone, and half your town is on food stamps.

And then a politician running for office comes along saying this:

"We're going to make America great again. I'm going to bring back the arts. I love music. You're going to have more gigs than you've ever had."




"I have great gigs.  The best gigs."



He's talking to you, trombonist who hasn't had a gig outside of your living room since the Clinton administration. He's reaching you on both a professional and an emotional level. You feel respected and validated. He understands you in a way that the last few presidents haven't. Even Reagan said 'screw you'.

And the thought that you might work again overrides literally everything else.  You don't care that he thinks he can grab women by their genitals without their consent because he's famous.  You don't care that he's blaming immigrants for why you're out of work.  You don't care that he says he's going to build a wall to keep the Mexican musicians out.



(Trumpdonald.com)                                                       

There's gonna be hell toupee.



When you're poor, nothing else matters.  You're afraid, and you're desperate.  And now with this guy in the race, you're hopeful.

You'd better believe you'll be voting for him. And in case you still weren't sure, the other person running for election barely mentioned musicians at all throughout their entire campaign (and when she did, it didn't go down so well).

Assuming most people who worked in those factories don't understand the science of climate change (that's very likely the case), their jobs being outsourced to Asia pretty much boils down to "Let's hire that other band for the half the money even though they suck.  Plus the drummer is banging your girlfriend."

Every faction of urban American society needs to find a similar analogy to understand their rural counterparts.  Until Trump's detractors engage with his supporters in this very style of dialogue and thereby humanize this overlooked part of the conversation, the country is not going to begin to heal.

IT consultants?  Cancer researchers?  It's up to you now.

Because when Trump is given a second term in 2020, I don't want to be the one who says "told you so."



Sunday, 4 September 2016

Ban the air show?



Ahh yes, the annual air show in Toronto.  That moment during the Canadian National Exhibition when we glorify the tools of combat as warplanes fly through the sky, officially marking the end of summer.  Right?



Because during war, planes are always busy making patterns that look like Don King's hair.


No, of course it isn't that simple.

Wait, what?  Nuance?  Say it isn't so !

Nope - it is not exclusively a war show.  People enjoy and are awestruck by it, if only for the athleticism and precision displayed by the pilots.  It's synchronized swimming in the air.

But it has its detractors, plenty of whom would have it banned in a heartbeat if they could, even just for the noise it makes in a residential area, never mind any anti-war sentiments felt.  But let me ask this: how many of the loudest complainers have pursued their passion to the point of building a skill where they can say they are in an extreme minority in their prowess?  Probably not too many.

Of course, warplanes have killed people.  And for some, especially now in a city with thousands of refugees, it is a trigger for trauma, as that sound of a warplane in their country of birth would almost always be followed by the sound of bombs, people screaming, and hundreds of lives ending in an instant.

But here is something literally nobody is talking about.  I was on a lovely walk through High Park with a friend, and one of the airplanes made a peace sign.  Let that sink in: the international symbol for pacifism was drawn by a warplane, and nobody seemed to notice.  One pilot decided to make his statement on the validity of air shows in 2016 with this grand gesture.


Rachelle Janicki                                     

Put this on the front page, and hippies everywhere may go through an existential crisis.


Clearly what's happening here is a re-imagination of the function of a warplane.  It's not unlike the white poppy.  It, too, offends people, especially those who lost relatives or even fought in a war themselves, as the red in the traditional poppy symbolizes the blood shed for our freedoms.  But the white poppy isn't intended to minimize that.  It recognizes it, and additionally intends to provide the message that war isn't the only method of transportation to peace.  Just ask Václav Havel.

This article in the Toronto Star has gained some traction, but let's call a spade a spade - he's a social activist writing an opinion piece.  He may be a "PhD candidate", but he is no writer.  He can put a sentence together, but he has made no effort to see all sides of the issue.  And naturally he didn't notice the peace sign in the sky because he was too busy writing his article with previously conceived notions about the airshow instead of actually watching it.

We haven't heard from any refugees on the issue.  This far more balanced editorial is the closest thing to an official response from someone from a war-torn country, and even she doesn't advocate closing shop.  Otherwise we've only heard from people speaking for the refugees.  So let's open up the dialogue with them, and listen carefully, while telling them about our traditions.  After all, the reason why we have an airshow every year is to commemorate those who gave their lives to ensure a safe haven for these refugees in which to live some day.

But if this really is a "nuisance" for the majority, then maybe we should be like Switzerland and have a public referendum on this.

In the meantime, this collection of responses to the Star article display a variety of opinions on the matter, which is healthy in a democracy.  This shows that the national dialogue on the subject of tradition versus accommodating new Canadians is alive and well.

Whatever your view on this subject is, just try to find the gray.  It's never as black and white as we think it is.

Friday, 19 August 2016

Classic Albums - part deux



A few years back I wrote about the nature of classic albums, past and present.  But on this occasion I'm thinking about them a bit differently.

One of the most interesting phenomenons in modern popular music is that virtually every act who sold millions of records in the 70s had a huge creative lull in the 80s.  Surely it isn't as simple as artists suddenly becoming dinosaurs who couldn't adjust to new technology or business models.  Is there any decade to decade transition in the last century that compares to the marked decline in quality of commercial music like the 70s to the 80s?  There is no simple answer.  Of course there was still much great music in the 80s, but most of it wasn't seen on MTV.  Of course it can be argued that artists of any era tend to have a creative peak that only lasts a few years, but something else is at work here.

The business had changed in many ways. FM radio went from album oriented radio to playlists in the late 70s, as it was becoming clear that a bigger audience meant higher advertising revenues. With hits now being on both AM and FM radio, albums became progressively less marketable. When there's no need to make an album like you used to, the product becomes less cohesive, not to mention the pressure to create a hit song takes its toll. Almost all successful artists of the 70s did not make the transition into the 80s well. People like Peter Gabriel were the exception to the rule (incidentally, he was flat broke by 1982).

There were other factors. With the advent of things like video games and creating your own mix tapes, people were spending less money on LPs by the late 70s. For the previous decade, LPs were what most teenagers and adults spent most of their disposable income on. People had prided themselves on their record collections. It was an extension of who they were. Artists knew this. The focus was on creating the great album, not the hit single. The lead single was selected after the album was finished. But with FM radio's change in business plan and record companies following suit, this would no longer be the case.

They say things move quickly now - just look at how much the nature of popular music changed between 1975 and 1980.  You can bet your life that Queen wouldn't have gotten a record deal with A Night At The Opera in 1980.  Zeppelin would've been thrown out of the record exec's office with Physical Graffiti.  Pink Floyd's Wish You Were Here starting with a 13 minute song?  Forget about it.




"What do you mean it's not marketable?  Of course you can make a music video with Dionysus and the marble white.  Place them right beside the hearts of men despaired."



There was no comparable seismic shift in any art form until YouTube came along.  Today we expect things to change quickly, but in the 70s people really thought the LP would last forever, and along with that, music on the radio that would continue to be new and exciting and more interesting than the previous year.  It was the format that drove artists to be great, with the added bonus of new territory to be found as the technology grew.

A ton of good music has been produced since then and will continue to be produced, but so much has changed in the way the business interferes with the process of its creation when its target is mainstream audiences.  Articles like this are more revealing than most people would ever want to realize, and I feel like the Grinch for even mentioning it.  But this is not a new phenomenon.  Motown had already become a musical assembly line by the mid-60s, but most other branches of popular music were about to enjoy a period of unparalleled creativity untampered with by the powers that be.  Additionally, any number of artists or record label employees in the late 60s and early 70s would tell you that more revenues were pumped into artist development during that period than ever.

Music is not consumed the way it was consumed 40 years ago, either. The world is a much different place, not least because there is so much music available and it has become so disposable in the form of downloaded files, as opposed to a physical piece with liner notes and artwork that you stared into while listening to the music and doing literally nothing else for 45 minutes after proudly carrying it home without a plastic bag as if it were a badge of honour, your statement to the world of what's important to you. But nothing lasts forever.

Artists like Bob Dylan, The Beatles, The Doors, Supertramp, Joni Mitchell, and Stevie Wonder truly were a product of their time. 1966-1976 was a magical period to create popular music, and such an environment and canvas will probably never be seen again.