||[Jan. 18th, 2009|10:33 am]
Yesterday evening there were a million places I wanted to be: shows at the Lab, Casa, Sala, Cagibi and L'Envers – all of which appealed to me for various reasons. But in the end I decided to stay home and listen to records. I wish I had thought of listening to the radio, since the show at L'Envers was being broadcast live on CKUT. But the radio is such a foreign concept to me. I always forget that it exists. |
I bought a record that was very close to being #1 on my most-wanted list: John Cale's Paris 1919.
I also got a copy of A Certain Ratio's Early compilation on Soul Jazz, which is going to come in very handy on February 13 when I'll be DJing at Eastern Bloc for some crazy DJ battle Valentine's Day party extravaganza. I'm not sure how I got sucked into that event exactly, but it involves some kind of battle between Montreal and Toronto, with eight DJs from each city spinning from two separate DJ booths, each doing a half-hour set. I don't even know how to beat-match, so Montreal is probably going to lose because of me. So the best I can do is come up with the best, danciest songs to play during my half-hour set and hope nobody notices the awkward transitions. Which is where A Certain Ratio comes in. "Shack up! Shack up!"
I also wanted to play a song by Arto Lindsay that I heard on Brave New Waves around 1998 and that's been haunting me ever since. I thought it was from one of his solo albums, so I started hunting and downloading them online. I managed to get my hands on most of them and nothing came even close to this song, stylistically, so I tried Golden Palominos and Ambitious Lovers albums. Finally found it on the Ambitious Lovers' first album, Envy. But I'm glad I got all these other albums, because his solo stuff is fantastic, too. It's mostly weird, sensuous, Brazilian-tinged bossanova pop songs, blending live percussion with electronic beats, Lindsay's soft vocals and occasional bursts of skronk guitar. Now if I could just get my hands on some of these albums on vinyl. I could probably order them somewhere...
I'm trying desperately to write some lyrics for my new band, which still doesn't have a name. Why does writing always cause me so much torment? I feel like I have absolutely nothing to say about anything that could possibly be turned into a song. I wish I could just write Talking Heads-style ridiculous lyrics about weird topics like air, food, buildings and cities. I guess I'm too uptight to write like that. Gotta loosen up or something.
Other than that, I think the band is progressing nicely. April 1st, the date of our first show, is approaching fast, though. Faster than we realize. Maybe I should write a song about the passage of time.
In other news, a fortune-telling machine/art installation predicted that I would "definitely" find true love this year.