So……some asshole, who decided he needed one of my car parts more than I did, expertly stole my passenger side mirror. Parked on Queen St., directly in front of the Cameron House, against a snowbank. F********K!!!! Not a “smash and grab” but carefully popped out, heating wires neatly disconnected and presto, I’m out $80.
Well, actually … ‘fun’ would not be how I would describe the last two weeks. Incomprehensible, horrific, blacker than the blackest black humour .. yeah, that’s more like it. Maybe what I meant to say was, “When does the fun begin?”
When we last left our plucky heroine, she was picking over the broken pieces of her shattered life, accompanied by her furry companions, who were cowering under the bed.
We’re in an interesting transitional period with music. Not the industry part that I’ve frequently beaten up and kicked to the curb time and time again. No, I’m talking about musical direction. I had hoped upon hope that post-9/11 the singer-songwriter would make a massive mainstream comeback to usher in the silver age of thinking man’s music. To say I was disappointed would be an understatement. The simpletons in charge of what we listen to doubled down on the stupid with the vacant tap dancing and lip-syncing of nubile females, effeminate boy bands and reality stars-turned-prime-time-embarrassments. ‘American Idol’ was the new A & R department for the future of music.
Read Chapter 1 here:
Read Chapter 2 here:
Read Chapter 3 here:
PHASE II, MACH III – PHOENIX RISING
Having spent the better part of 5 years taking my band Moving Targetz from a suburban Scarborough, Ontario basement (a trend later to be repeated by the Barenaked Ladies), burning up the Queen Street circuit, forming a record label and releasing not one, but two, 12” slabs of polyvinyl chloride only to have the band self-destruct on the eve of global domination, I did some soul searching and decided that I really didn’t want the musical ideology of Targetz to die.
Bullseye Records of Canada
