Mid August, and most days I feel like, this year, summer never really got started. Maybe it’s the weather, or the political climate, but something feels off-kilter. My potted veg and herbs are in shock; it’s been either torrential rain or temps in the 90s – sometimes in the same 24 hours – every day since they were planted. Sodden pots sit cheek by jowl with containers so arid they threaten to burst into flame. There won’t be much of a harvest this year.
Bruce Springsteen’s refusal to play North Carolina because of new, drastic LGBT laws might have shocked some people, but it didn’t surprise me at all.
Cam and Wendi at Cherry Cola’s
I am in the middle of a seven-day ten-event Christmas event marathon. Don’t know exactly what it is this year but it seems like every day this week there are a couple of shindigs. Thanks to the fine folks at The Talent House for their great event Monday at The Madison. It was fantastic to see and spend time with my old pal Robin Black who is now one of the world’s foremost MMA analysts and a hero amongst Irish fight fans. Robin’s wife Erica is a client of the Talent House and currently performing in “Kinky Boots”.
I love Keith. You love Keith. We ALL love Keith Richards. In fact, very personally speaking, if it wasn’t for my first encountering the hallowed words “Chuck” and “Berry” on some extremely early Rolling Stones record, and then seeking out “No Particular Place To Go” in particular, I probably never would have ventured past the second fret up my own childhood guitar.
Rolling Stone Magazine recently released their latest ‘list’, “The 100 Greatest Songwriters” rollingstone.com). Let me repeat that title, “The 100 Greatest Songwriters”. Their descriptive line states “From Brill Building tunesmiths to Punk poets, from Woody Guthrie to Max Martin, the visionaries who defined music history.”
Ch-ch-ch-cha-changes
I have been slowly getting to know my fellow writers, conversing with them through Facebook, email and over the phone. A what! Yep, a real live telephone. You know, those devices that allow you to actually hear what the other person sounds like while enjoying honest-to-goodness dialogue. Fingers seem to do more walking and mouths less talking these days. We are no longer an oral society. The world of banter, tete-a-tetes and nattering have gone the way of such foods as pineapple upside down cake. (remember those) Mmmmmm……
Hard to miss that’s it’s the Christmas season. Department, drug and clothing stores have all been playing Brenda Lee’s “Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree”, Bobby Helm’s “Jingle Bell Rock”, Wham’s “Last Christmas” and The Beach Boys “Little Saint Nick”, along with newer Christmas ditties from the likes of Neil Diamond, Taylor Swift, Michael Buble and the omnipresent “White Christmas” from der Bingle (aka Bing Crosby) for what seems like months already.
I was having such a good day last Wednesday. I had submitted my DBAWIS column and then headed out for lunch with former Northern Pike Bryan Potvin. We had run in to each other a few times at CMW but it was either in a busy hotel lobby or a crowded club so we decided to get together on a quieter front to catch up. After lunch we headed over to Russ Mackay’s Blue Sound and Music so Bryan could have a look at some of the new/old gear Russ has brought it. While there we spent a few minutes with Canadian rock legend Larry Gowan who was overseeing his son laying down a monster drum track.
The idea for this column came about last night when I received an email of a peculiar nature. The email in question was angry in tone, derogatory in content and evidently written in the heat of the moment by someone who had become very incensed by something that the person thought I had done to him/her. The email, in actuality, was hate mail, in response to a review that I had written. It wasn’t the first piece of hate mail I’d ever received, and the more I choose to push myself into the public eye, the more likely it is that it won’t be the last. But it did get me thinking about publicity, the internet and how hate proliferates so easily when the two come together.
I can’t play a note on the guitar, or any instrument for that matter. Can’t tell a G from a D and wouldn’t know open tuning if I heard it. I wish I could wail but there is a huge disconnect between my brain and my fingers. Always loved the sound of a great guitar as well as the look, and what’s not to like about a Marshall stack? I was always more partial to the look of a Les Paul than a Telecaster and the look of an SG has always left me cold. Strats look boring whereas a Tele looks more rock’n’roll to these eyes. I imagine that if I did play I would want a Flying V, to me, one of the coolest looking guitars ever, or maybe a Firebird or Explorer. Continue reading
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 