... Arctic Monkeys at Kool Haus Sep 29, 2009

So imagine Split Enz's spent six months on a leaky boat which lands them in the England, where they meet some nice girl and have a couple of kids, and those kids grow up listening to The Kinks from their uncle's old vinyl collection. Now imagine that just as they turn 12 or so there's a really messy divorce and mom moves with her new husband, a US serviceman, to Seattle in the mid 90s.

What you would get, other than an impenetrable accent, is something that would not entirely be unlike Arctic Monkeys, especially on their latest album Humbug (produced by Josh Homme of Them Crooked Vultures, Queens of the Stone Age, Eagles of Death Metal and one day, I am sure, The Carpenters of Gangsta Rap).

I had managed to miss the Monkeys first few shows in Toronto, including what was at the time the unprecedented feat of opening for Oasis one night and then playing their own show the next - all for their first album, the Mercury Prize winning Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. Their albums are also a hodgepodge of energy. Alex Turner writes with the perception of Ray Davies and the measured vitriol of a middle period Elvis Costello. In a way, the band are prodigies whose song structures and writing betray their age. Turner has even had the time and energy to start a side project with a member of the Miles Kane of The Rascals (U.K.) - The Last Shadow Puppets - which has its own style and outlook. This is all an historical way of saying that this should have been an interesting show.

And it was, just not for the reasons that I would have anticipated.

The latest bunch of Brit art-rock and indie bands all have a dance-ability to them - Franz Ferdinand, Bloc Party, Maximo Park, even Glasvegas. Most of them seem to combine some part of the Madchester scene with the wireyness of English punk and a dose of shoegazing involved, and it works in its own way. Listening to either of the first two Arctic Monkey albums at home will cause head bobs and involuntary hand motions. So you'd imagine that the show would be a groovefest, with many Torontonians doing The White Boy.

However, there is a certain hallmark to the Arctic Monkeys. Their songs are very dynamic and have a groove, but are also punctuated by a lot of starts and stops and time changes. Think of their biggest hit "I Bet You Look Good On the Dancefloor" - it starts with a full almost grunge-like guitar raveup, and then goes into a sort of indie chord jangle, all before Turner starts singing, and when he does his vocal rhythm comes into the song at an angle. (ed note - Stop snickering! I know as much about the technical terms about music as most people know about the Large Hadron Collider!) When you get to the chorus, you're back to another rave up. For a song that seems direct and punky it actually comes off like a shorter version of Genesis' "Get 'Em Out By Friday". (I kid! I kid because I love!)

All of this is to say that for the most part the crowd was confused with exactly how to move to the music. There might be a bit of the full on White Boy, or some Madness-era skanking, and some full on Happy Monday's Bez-like motion (which have been the right answer) and this was all in the same song. The front of the stage seemed to be a cross between dancing and 90s era moshing and crowd surfing.

The net result was a show that rocked, but didn't groove. This isn't a problem per se, but it's a bit of a disappointment. They are all amazing musicians (supporting my "Train theory" of British rock), but their stage presence is mostly from the Oasis school of "standing with a purpose". So while you go in expecting a show that grooves you get one that rocks, and so on the fly you have to change your expectations and how you plan to interact with the music.

There also appeared to be some sound issues during the show which might have impacted their playing ability/enthusiasm and caused there to be some pretty lengthy breaks between songs. This also might have been why "Fluorescent Adolescent", which practically jumps off of Favourite Worst Nightmare might have seemed so limp.

Would I see Arctic Monkeys again? Probably not. Do I regret going? Not really. Do I wish I had been better prepared? Probably.

The Venue/The Crowd

It was a cool night, so for once the temperature of Kool Haus was actually comfortable. Exiting was not comfortable, nor is everyone getting crammed in the courtyard.

The crowd - Okay, I like to think I be an open minded dude. When the two guys in the track suits and ball caps showed up I figured "Oh yeah, the douche bomb has gone off at the frat house." Soon they started falling over each other in the way most drunken frat boys do which provides me so much entertainment.

Only they didn't stop at just falling over each other.

Oh no.

Oh yes.

Are we encountering a new subset? Is this the male Lipstick Lesbian? It's not On the Down Low - it's much more open than that, but takes in so many aspects of a culture that is normally not open. Did I miss a memo here? Does this subset really exist, does it have a name, and if not, shall we name it ourselves?

... pure and simple every time

People always be saying to me: Oh G, you HATE pop music. You like angst-ridden, depressing hard rock and want all your music to be so earnest and serious.

And to that I say nay. I also like chiming British guitar music, and I hate The Smiths at the same time. I'm as puzzled as you.

But back to the matter at hand, I do like pop music. I just don't like BORING pop music, or beer-and-lifestyle-music (to quote Cliff Poncier). Here's a great example of a great little pop song that most people would think I'd hate but actually lurve.

(yes yes I know, it's got chiming guitars and a British accent, and the Ian Boudie has worked with Echo and the Bunnymen, but could you imagine Pearl Jam covering it?)

...welcoming a new soul

So it must have been 1993 or something quite like it when she was at a party. I don't know what lead up to it, but at some point she must have said that she loved the acoustic version of "Layla" that all the kids had at the time on the discmans. "Oh really? You know who would love to know about that? That guy." "The pudgy guy on the stairs talking way too loud, who looks a little like Skippy from Family Ties and is wearing the Detroit Tigers cap?" "Yeah." So she walks over

"Hi I'm Lori."

"I'm G"

"So....those people over there wanted me to tell you that I liked "Layla"."

"Aweso....wait, who does the song "Layla"?"

"Eric Clapton of course."

Cue about 20 minutes of me going up one side and down the other...first of all it's Derek and Dominos....secondly it's an ELECTRIC song, not this Unplugged cal....song of total heartbreak and anger....the coda, the CODA my g-d is better than most WHOLE songs....people have no interest in finding out anything about music....not since Rod Stewart has someone betrayed their talent...people no longer have patience in discovering music etc. Basically I let loose all my greatest hits, probably tying the popularity of Friends into the whole thing. About the only thing that didn't get mentioned was Forrest Gump, and only because it didn't exist at the time.

So yeah, 20 minutes of that, doubt I took a breath.

"Geesh," she said, "I wonder what you'd do if someone said they liked ABBA."

"Do you like ABBA?"

"Yes."

Second verse, same as the first.

Quite the first impression, non? But that's how I was introduced to Lori Mosher. And it got better from that moment on, despite the fact that there were always things we were going to be fundamentally on the opposite sides of (politics, country music, Oprah). We had our ups and downs, but we've always managed to remain good friends and have even come to respect each other for our differences and be suitably tickled when we enjoyed the same thing ("SUIT UP!").

Why am I saying all this? Lori and her husband Robert just welcomed their first child this week, Casper. And I just wanted to say congratulations to her and remind her that if there is one thing about her that I wish their child to have, it's a courage of convictions combined with a genuine curiosity and empathy for the world.

And as soon as Casper can tell a bass guitar from a acoustic guitar, a mixed CD is heading his way.

... putting on his Tigers cap

Today I went out to mow the lawn, which is one of my favorite things to do - I have a whole zen, time-with-my-inner-self attitude towards it. As per normal, I opened up the deacon's bench in our doorway to pick out a hat to wear. I look at my Beloved Jays caps and pass by them: I'll probably sweat a little and I don't want to get that ol' sweat stain on them. Same for my Hated Bosox and Hated Yankees caps. The Mourned Expos caps - those are for special occasions. I realize I'm wasting time and fooling myself even debating this, and I pick up my Sainted Tigers cap.

As I look at the Olde English D of now-multiple hues and feel how the fabric of the cap moves in those ways that only a beloved hat can go, it dawns on me: I'm had this hat nearly 20 years. I can't think of any other thing I've had in my life that long. Maybe some CDs, but that's a whole other category. The closest would be the Cavalier of Love, but even that has reached a measurable end of life.

I put on the hat and it moulds to my head and I remember how much of my life is tied up in this silly thing.

1 - How does a New Brunswick boy wind up with a Tigers cap?
Most people would say "Oh, some Magnum P.I. fetish," and I say "Nay."

See, we got cable in Minto in 1984 - before that all TV was over the air. When we got cable we got two US networks: NBC and CBS, and for some reason no one has ever explained to me we got them from Detroit. In 1984 the Tigers ate up the American League, winning their first 10 games (including a no-hitter) and leading from pillar to post. The games were on WDIV most nights right after Jeopardy! and while my heart still belonged to the (then) Beloved Expos, I was still recovering from "Blue Monday". I feel in love with Jack Morris, Lance Parrish (and his orange glove), Alan Trammel, Lou Whittaker, Chet Lemmon and Kirk Gibson. It was also the first I heard of Sparky Anderson and associated him so much with the team that I still have trouble imagining him as the Reds manager in '70s.

The Tigers won it all and for the first time I was supporting a winner. I'd still keep up with them when I moved to Barbados and when I moved back to Canada I was able to buy a real Tigers cap to add to my (substantial) hat collection.

This was the first Tigers cap.

2 - The End of the First Tigers Cap
When I moved to Halifax to go to university, one of the things I made sure I took with me was my Tigers cap, because I knew I needed something to make me unique, and I was only 17 so that seemed as good a fit as any.

The next part is deeply symbolic....

It was my first class, Advanced Calculus which if you read other parts of the Brief History you know marks the exact point where G Valentino met the reality of the world. I had taken my cap off and put it on the chair next to me because Ma Valentino didn't raise no foo'. At the end of class, a little hit in the gut, I staggered out with an hour to kill before my first English class. I then noticed...I had left my hat behind.

I turned around and quickly ran back to the room before the next class sat down, only to notice that my hat was gone. To this day I have no idea what happened to it. I think someone picked it up with the intention of taking it the lost and found and either forgot, or I just never checked at the right time. So...right away I was down one (1) sense of my own intelligence and one (1) Detroit Tigers cap.

Luckily my sister worked at a sporting goods store in Bedford and I was able to get a new hat a discount. That is the hat I have today.

3 - The first crisis of the new hat
I was working at the best job I ever had: staff member at Camp Wegesegum in Chipman, New Brunswick, and my Tigers cap was with me. I had never done anything to it and always kept it in pristine shape. Of course, I was working with the teen camp and it was one of those moments when I was helping look after the pool when I was basically knocked over by said kids and into the pool...Tiger cap and all. It seems to trivial now, but it actually did upset me. Here was the replacement cap that in a weird way I had swore nothing would happen to now all wet and contaminated with chlorine. Yeah, I was livid. Luckily the head staff member, Anisa Pym, was able to talk me down before I went after the kids with an axe for the second time (I might tell that story later), but it did mark the time the cap went from fetished belonging to talisman.

4 - The second crisis of the new hat
My buddy Lemming was up from Halifax visiting me in Newmarket. Being the bachelor-ific danger seekers we were, we went to Canada's Wonderland, and since we were out in public and my nose burns easily, I put on the Tigers cap. The day progressed as normal until we hit the Dragon Fyre coaster. As usual, I kept my hat on (because by this point it had moulded itself to my head) and did the ride. As we made the turn back to boarding area we must have hit the wind just right because WHOOM the hat flew off of me. Being more mature, I simply said "Drat, excrement!" and figured that since I had a job now getting a new hat would not be a problem. A we got off someone ran up from three cars down and said "Is this yours," while presenting me with my hat. I thanked them profusely and apologized (because I'm Canadian) and offered to get them a drink of something, but we all knew the task itself was its own reward blah blah blah.

There have been a few other adventures, but now the hat is pretty much consigned to yard work and things around the house. It's so dirty that I'd never wear it out anywhere. But at the same time I don't want to replace it or wash it. Call me sentimental, nostalgic, whatever you will, but in some ways I can see a good part of my progress from pudgy kid sitting in front of the TV watching a baseball game to...um....errr....pudgy adult sitting in front of the TV watching a baseball game.

It SEEMS like I've done more in 20 years....ah well....

... not wanting another Revolution.

In a couple of days, The Beatles catalogue will be re-released with great fanfare and to-do, parades, children throwing garlands, video games, cats and dogs living together, all that fun stuff.

Now, if none of that stuff is planned, forgive me because you see that even as a Beatles fan, it would take two of me to care less. That's 4oo lbs of apathy there, Chester.

When I first moved to Ontario and landed a real paying gig, every payday I would deposit my check and then go to the HMV in the Upper Canada Mall in Newmaket and pick up one or two of the Rykodisc Elvis Costello remasters, which I bought pretty much in order of album quality (the last two I got were the all-too-aptly named Punch the Clock and Goodbye Cruel World). Within a couple of months I had them all and a less financially secure start to my adult life. But I had the most up-to-date recordings, with pristine sound and all the B-sides and legally available demos that a boy could want.

Fast forward a couple of years, and Rhino has the rights to the Elvis Costello catalogue. Now there are double CD versions of all those albums with even better sound and more rare tracks, and they go all the way to the also aptly named All This Useless Beauty, the last time I checked. The last time I checked was a while ago because I just threw up my hands and said "You can have 'em."

It's not just the established Elvis Costellos of the world. Foo Fighters, who I do love, have also released newer versions of their albums with extra tracks. Like I say, I love the boys but not enough to go out and repurchase what I already have to get some UK-only cover versions. And yes I'm aware I can get these via torrent, but there are philosophical and practical reasons for me not wanting to do so which I'll go into sometime else if need be.

It's the same with these Beatles remasters. I have all the Beatles albums I want, and I have the Anthology collection which was pretty much billed as "Yup, that's it". There's even two versions of Let it Be that you can get depending on what your opinion of Paul McCartney is. If anything, there's a surplus of materials out there and I'm tired of being made to feel like I MUST get them for the best experience ever, even though I'm pretty certain in about ten years there will be another version. This is the source of the only joke in Men in Black that I still laugh at: Tommy Lee Jones looking at an alien audio technology and saying "Looks like I'll have to buy The White Album again."

What bothers me most is that music is just about the only industry that makes this happen. Yes, I can get new editions of the Nineteen Eighty-Four with essays and notes, but I'm never told that this was the way the book was supposed to be read. I'm never told that this is the real vision of the author, or that this paper will make the words come alive. Actually, there has been one or two incidents of this, including what pretty much amounted to a re-write of All The Kings Men, but you'll admit these are the exceptions and not the rule.

Maybe movies do this also, with director's cuts and remastered versiona. But even in those cases, like Star Wars and Blade Runner, it's become almost a joke and those directors are now being seen for what they are - charlatans who are stretching out their one great moment when their current output is trivial at best (oh yeah Ridley Scott lovers, bring it!).

If anything, the driving force behind this is not the quality of the art produced but the technology being used as the vector for it. The real reason Amazon is willing to so heavinly subsidize the network traffic for the Kindle is so that you can buy another copy of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy that you can read anytime you want. Withe a better disk player or a fancy projection systen, you can see Blade Runner with more relasitic looking scenes and even more stilted, confusing-for-the-sake-of-being-confusing dialogue (Oh yeah, you KNOW you want some now).

So people are going to run to their stores to get the new Beatles collection, and they're more than welcome to it. I have my copy of The White Album right here on my soon-to-be-extinct iPod and I've been quite happy so far.

... de-bugging the Cito-bot 2000

On the "Hurricane Neddy" episode of The Simpsons there's a flashback to Ned Flanders' as a rambunctious youth being raised by beatnik poets. They take him to a child psychologist and describe their entire child rearing philosophy "We tried nothing, and it didn't work. Now we're fresh out of ideas."

Ladies and gentlemen, your 2009 Toronto Blue Jays: They're frust-didly-ating!

Two culprits

As most people will tell you, there is one main culprit for this: JP Riccardi. I'm kind of in their boat. He might be a great assistant GM, but he doesn't have the acumen to be a full time GM. He makes too many rash decisions based on the most cursory of evidence. Now, most GMs do that, but JP was supposed to be a Moneyball GM who would NOT make these decisions. No one expected the team to run away with the division, but play well enough to threaten year after year even with a substantial turn-around in players (a la Oakland A's). Obviously, JP is not that man.

But there is a second culprit that people are only now starting to turn on. But they should not be surprised by this because this is his history. His name is Cito Gaston, as as we call him The Cito-bot 2000 (now running Windows 3.11 - Windows for Workgroups).

His first run

I fully admit that I hated Cito Gaston the first time around for purely esoteric reasons: I was an Expos fan, and could not stand Nos Amours having to play second fiddle to the team with the ugly soccer jerseys in Toronto.

But even then looking at him and the way he managed I had doubts. He had teams with Jack Morris, Ricky Henderson, Dave Stewart, Paul Molitor and Roberto Alomar just off the top of my head. It would have been harder to LOSE pennants with that team than to win them. I'm not taking anything away from him being able to manage a team full of superstars, but it has been done before, and has been done since. It's not an accomplishment, it's his job. And like his biggest defender, Joe Carter, he's spent most of a slightly better than mediocre career dining out on that.

It's a job that in a lot of ways he wasn't too good at. He likes to play his own boys on his own terms, and is very stubborn. He once moved around the All-Star Game lineup to feature more of his Blue Jays, players he was familiar with. And when given someone outside of that who he couldn't bench, he made their lives miserable - John Olerud for example.

A lot of people think Gaston left the team a conquering hero. He left them in last place, after three miserable seasons following their World Series victories. He didn't have the toys to play with anymore, and his limitations as manager were starting to show. It's not so much that he won two World Series rings as he leased them.

And he didn't work again until 2008. Let's think about that - he won two World Series', was supposed to be a genius because of the way that he deftly managed the egos on his team and National League rules (which are SOOOOOO different...oh no the pitcher bats. No wonder no American League team has ever won a World Series in the entire history of baseball, except for all the ones who have.). Everyone likes to claim that it was the inherent racism in baseball, but there has been Felipe Alou, Ozzie Guillen, Ron Washington, Dusty Baker, Fredi Gonzalez, Cecil Cooper, Willie Randolph, Frank Robinson...you get the idea. (DOn't get me wrong, it's still an issue, a HUGE issue, but it's an excuse not and explination when it comes to the Cito-Bot 2000).

Could it be maybe his obstinacy, his stubbornness, his inability to see that a situation is not working and his reluctance to change it were reasons for his exile. It's very possible.

Maybe the time off mellowed him.

Second verse, same as the first

The Beloved Jays started the season en fuego and were first in their division. Fans and media in Toronto were proclaiming them the second coming of the Rays. Most people outside of the city were predicting an eventual crash, based mostly on some people having very out-of-the- ordinary starts, and a lack of depth in pitching especially in middle and late relief.

Who didn't listen? The Cito-Bot 2000. The Cito-Bot 2000's programming indicated that BJ Ryan was a good reliever a couple of seasons ago, despite being a horrorshow since 2008. Game after game he was brought in and either loaded the bases or gave the game away. It was easy to see that something was wrong, but instead Cito kept playing him over and over, weakening his arm and his confidence. He would rather do that than risk admitting that his programming was in error and the job should be moved around to find the next fit.

Hallyday, a proud man, pitched longer and longer into games because he couldn't trust his pen, and that has more to do with his August swoon as any trade rumour does - he's exhausted. Straight up, Cito's inability to do anything with the pen cost Doc a Cy Young season.

But, people say, Cito isn't a pitching coach (Brad Arnsberg is, and he should be fired also for how the bullpen has gotten worse year after year) he's a hitting coach. Great! So that would explain how he was able to fix Vernon's traditional start-of-the-year slump and propensity for swinging at every first pitch? And how he was able to teach Alex Rios some patience at the plate? And how he saw the natural situational hitter in Lyle Overbay and place him effectively in the lineup? And how he saw that while Scott Rolen wasn't the power hitter he used to be, he was changing his game to adapt to this new situation and changed his lineup accordingly?

Oh right...None of those things happened!

Instead the same line up, which wasn't working, was trotted out day after day. And when he did make a change, it was dropping Wells one spot, and moving everyone else up one. Come on boys, take your turn! Thank goodness Lind and Hill didn't have slumps until later in the year, when the Cito-Bot 2000 stopped caring, as then the Snyder-snippet of his code would have stepped in

IF isInSlump(nonVetranPlayer) Then

SendTo.Minors

ELSE

Do.Nothing

END IF

So when things are lost, what happens? You start bringing up new players, which was done more or less. But now that the roster is set to be expanded, who are they talking about bringing up? Joe Inglett and Brian Wolfe, I imagine, the same-ol same-ol so that Cito doesn't have to learn new names.

The season is lost. They will make no difference. So why not bring up some kids, get their feet wet, play around with the lineup? Either you do that or say "Even though we're out, I'm going to play my team like there's no tomorrow anyway, and we're going to do two-a-days and slide on every play, because the Jays under Cito never give up."

Instead in Boston I saw this happen: Marco Scutaro in the hole, the Jays losing but not lost, standing up, smiling, waving his arms around and getting ready, itching to get in there for an at bat that might not happen. And Cito Gaston, leaning back, not looking at the field, a look on his face that seemed to say "Oh, will someone just pop it up so we can get out of here."

Yeah, he manages players nicely to get the most out of them...

Enough blame to go around

Yes, a lot of people will point fingers at JP, and rightfully so. He's not the GM this team needs, and saddled them with a lot of players who have underperformed. And the final decision for who to bring up and who to send down remains with him.

But he has a farm system that actually is pretty well stocked. A good manager would have seen that, and seen a team that wasn't working. He would have sat down with him at a meeting, which I'm sure they have, and said "Look, we're in the tank. Give me some of these tools to work with for a while and see what I can so with them."

But he didn't.

He sat there and when asked what his plans for the team were, he said "I tried nothing, and it didn't work. I'm fresh out of ideas."