I once was a voracious buyer of books. I would browse the delete bins and pick up biographies left and right and then look for the hot new releases. I would stack ‘em up and plow through them. Times have changed. The bookshelf is overflowing (I have a hard time getting rid of things) and current economics dictate spending my money on more vital things. This has not stopped me from reading but now I get almost all of my books (CD’s and DVD’s for that matter) at the Toronto Public Library.
My god Facebook can be an ugly little sandbox to play in. It seems populated by narcissistic bullies who feel it is their right to yell as loudly as possible about what their beliefs are and try to shame you into seeing things their way. There is no compromise, there is no fear of repercussions, and there is little or no consideration of other’s feelings. If it was a bar I walked in to I wouldn’t even order a drink.
It is getting to be that time of year when the conventions and music conventions begin. SXSW kicks off next week, The Junos are in Calgary at the end of this month followed by Canadian Music Week in May, the newly re-vamped NXNE in June and Indie Week Manchester in October and Indie Week Canada in November. There is a lot to see and do in Toronto as well. Here are ten things on my mind.
This week we rewind to December 1978 and March of 1979 and two stories I wrote about pop music in The New Music Magazine. The first is about our main man Bob Segarini and the second deals with Nick Gilder.
Hello everyone. Let’s give a warm welcome to Debbie and Cyndi. Two unique women who dance to their own drummers and whose talents encompass a variety of musical fields in two decidedly different decades. These ladies can pop and rock, disco down or jazz it up, sing the blues, or pour their soul into a ballad. Their many talents run the full gamut and they have led the way for a new kind of woman in music, adding their own twist and turns to rock and roll. Quirky, outrageous, individualistic, sexy, ballsy, entertaining, exuberant, clever, brilliant, artistic and really, really smart.
Yeah, yeah, it’s been a week since the Saturday Night Live (SNL) special, and Bob’s given his views on the pros and cons. But I’m still thinking about what the show meant to me, in its heyday, and occasionally, since.
The whole process of growing up seems to take forever when you’re at the start of it. It feels like years, not months, between Christmases, and there’s always a milestone you’re looking forward to – getting into high school, getting a driver’s license, getting old enough to legally drink.
At a recent jam, a bunch of the players got to talking about songs that had surprised or shocked our sensibilities, either at first listen, or upon reflection. As vocalists or musicians, we had learned the actual lyrics, not just taken the overall gist. It’s different, when you have to memorize lyrics, rather than just bop along to a current song.
During the last few months I have been listening to a lot more radio than normal. Working at home, and with no TV, I hate the silence so the radio goes on. I need noise in the background to work. Tired of CFNY, Q-107 and news radio I started listening to sports radio in the morning and soon found myself listening to Macko and Cauz on TSN 1050 (which still doesn’t look right after growing up on 1050 Chum). Macko is Bob Mackowycz Jr. (son of Q-107 legend Bob Mackowycz) and Matthew Cauz. My first dealings with Bob were when he was in the band Glueleg and they were looking for a record deal.
In 1975, my radio listening was shifting from CHLO and the AM stations. I was being influenced by the pronouncements 
of my peers. It never occurred to me at the time that they didn’t know anything more than I did. They seemed so sure . . . like a grammar school friend who, in 9th grade, dismissed David Bowie and everything he’d done because his older sisters had told him Bowie was gay. Because this friend of mine was to play the saxophone, and — as was a lot more common in southwestern Ontario and other places in 1975 — he was proudly homophobic, he was outraged that Bowie was depicted with a sax on the cover of Pin-Ups. I still liked Bowie. I just didn’t mention that to the guy who hated him.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 