musings

I’ve changed my blog settings so that readers need to register and be logged in in order to post comments. I hate to do this, but the comment spammer bastards have figured out how to autopost to WordPress again. The spam comments get queued up for moderation, but I’m getting dozens of mails a day that need moderation. It’s not so much that moderating the comments as spam is a hassle (‘cuz it isn’t) but more that it bothers me that I have to do it at all. These pricks waste my time and my bandwidth. I hope they all burn in Hell. In fact, if I could round ‘em all up, I could happily set the bastards on fire myself here and now.

Last weekend in Montreal was amazing. I didn’t think it was going to be possible to top it. This weekend topped it. We had a great time just hanging out. And then, on Sunday night, we saw Sigur Rós. The opening band was called Amina, a quartet of girls that are (according to the sticker on their debut ep) long-time collaborators of Sigur Rós. They were spellbinding – in fact, I was so blown away by their performance that I ran out to the lobby during the intermission to buy the ep. And then Sigur Rós came out. They were awe-inspiring. One of the most intense shows I’ve ever seen. And the music and vocals are positively unearthly. The show was only made better by our front row seats. I’ve put a few photos up at my flickr site.

I’m listening to the newest album, Howl by the brilliant Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. All the reviews talk a lot about how BRMC have given up their snarl and shoegazer leanings for acoustic Americana. This led me to believe that I’d be walking into a country album, or at least black leather clad country. Now, there are elements of country and gospel throughout the album but it’s by no means a total departure from the previous albums. This one hasn’t hooked me the way the last two did yet, but I can’t write the album off – so far it’s really quite good. The AMG review I linked ends with the statement “BRMC have grown up and grown interesting.” which both overstates the change Howl presents, and understates the quality of the previous two albums. I don’t think any BRMC fan is going to be disappointed by Howl. I’m not.

I’m off to Ottawa tomorrow – Kourosh, Coralie and I are going to see Sigur Rós on Sunday night. I can’t hardly wait. And then they’re coming down here for the October 1 weekend to see Dead Can Dance. Great times ahead!

I haven’t felt the urge or the need to write anything in a few days. It’s probably because I’m feeling really mellow these days. We met a massive deadline at the office last week and Stephen and I took off for the weekend to Montreal. We drove up on Friday morning, and came back Monday afternoon. Friday night we met up with my ex-Rockstar-colleague and great friend Brad and his family and went for dinner. Saturday during the day we did touristy stuff (went to the Museum of Architecture, the Biodome and the Botanical Gardens). In the evening Kourosh and Coralie came in from Ottawa and we went out for dinner. Sunday we did more touristy stuff – checking out the really beautiful architectural history of Montreal – St Joseph’s Oratory, the Cathedral de Notre Dame, and the rest of old Montreal. We did all this on foot and via the Metro. Montreal has amazing public transit. And insane traffic. So it really made sense not to drive in the city. Anyway, we got up a bit late on Monday, went out for a nice lunch and then drove back home. I had a great weekend – I really enjoyed getting away. Thanks, everyone who came out, for a great time. Hope to see you all again soon.

Stephen and I went to Toronto for dinner tonight. We got into the city rather early for dinner and went on a bit of a wander, hitting music and bookstores as a way to pass time ’til we were ready for food. Walking around the city reminded what I loved about Toronto, and reminded me of an article written by Spider Jerusalem in his column “I Hate It Here” (from Warren Ellis’ brilliant comic, Transmetropolitan):

When I last lived in this City, I was considered an Eligible Bachelor. Women would hurl themselves at my feet without my having to drug them first. But now I am Old. Pieces of my body are moving around. I am no longer Pretty. Gravity tugs at my ass, my paunch and my painfully heavy testicles. I have not had sex in more than three years. When I finally do torture, medicate or hypnotize someone into manipulating my bits, the police will find our remains blasted into the walls by ballistic semen.
And I am forced to endure this in a city where I can fall in love eighty times a day just by stepping out on to the street and opening my eyes.
You will all pay.

Okay, so women never hurled themselves at my feet. And I’m not so nearly desperate as Spider sounds in his diatribe. But the bit about being able to fall in love eighty times a day just by stepping out on to the street and opening your eyes? That’s Toronto.

By the way, if you haven’t read Transmet, all the writing is that damn good. Go read it now.