Gah! Content Shortage!

I really wanted to post something interesting here for the new year, just because I looked and there are only two entries showing in the past 30 days, so my blog looks completely lopsided. But I have nothing incredibly interesting to share, really.

I started running again, today, for the first time since, gasp, the end of August. I’m keeping track of my slow climb to fitness (again) on my oh-so-interesting running blog. And I’ve been fooling around a bit more with Last.fm, and I can say without hesitation that it’s pretty interesting. At least for completely anal-retentive music geeks like me. View my profile here. While I’m plugging links, my other site, Runner-Up, needs some love. Please visit (that is, if you’re even visiting here!) and if you find something interesting, please please please comment!

That is all.

The Complete “Insert Favourite Magazine Name Here”

Omni, Vol. 1, No. 2 (November 1978)

Omni, Vol. 1, No. 2 (November 1978)

Brooke and I are buying ourselves The Complete New Yorker for Christmas, and I’m incredibly excited. I know there is a complex labyrinth of legal rights involved, but I’m still happy that I’ll have access to some of the 20th century’s finest magazine writing at my fingertips. And it got me thinking.

There are so many other magazines that would be great to own in this format. Popular Science would be absolutely fascinating, as would Time, Life, and especially, Wired. Of course, Harpers and The Atlantic would have to be included. But the one I keep thinking of is extinct.

Omni was probably my favourite magazine as a teenager, and I owned every issue from #2 (November 1978, above, with a freaky cover by H.R. Giger) until about 1984. They’re actually still stored in a friend’s parents’ basement somewhere, but of course, I have no room for them anymore. Surely, a complete set exists somewhere, and there would certainly be some money to be made. Bob Guccione’s publishing empire will probably produce The Complete Penthouse first, though.

What would be your favourite candidates for the Complete treatment?

Update: Visiting Time’s site above, I was greeted with the news that Time’s magazine subscribers now have access to the entire archive online, back to 1923. I’m not sure what this means, though. Is it similar to the New Yorker’s scanned pages format? Though online access is good, it’s only available as long as you subscribe. I fear that this might be the preferred format for most publishers. They won’t let us own anything.

Life’s site lets you access all the covers from 1936 to 1972, when it was published as a weekly magazine. That’s pretty cool.

The Atlantic has online access to some of their archives (“Articles from January, 1964 – September, 1992, are not available due to copyright restrictions”), but you have to pay on a per-article basis. That sucks.

Update 2: More Omni reminiscing by Michael and Andrew.

Great Albums: Whale Music

Rheostatics – Whale Music (1992)

Rheostatics – Whale Music (1992)

Last night, my best friend Brent and I revisited a pillar of our more than 15 year-long friendship. Let me begin at the beginning. I met Brent in 1989. At the time, I was a suave and sophisticated 24-year old who’d travelled in Europe and was beginning my second degree. Brent was a gawky and sometimes abrasive 19-year old know-it-all. Of course, we hit it off right away. When one of my roommates moved out, Brent decided to move in, and for the next three years, we struggled to make ends meet on our student loans and part-time jobs. Sometime in 1992, we caved in to the inevitable and both of us made the humiliating decision to move back in with our parents for a while. Luckily, by 1994 we were back on our feet financially, and we found another place closer to downtown. I moved out gradually as Brooke and I got more serious, but we still live only about fifteen minutes walk from each other.

I tease Brent about not being a “music person” but I am forever grateful to him for introducing me to my favourite Canadian band, the Rheostatics. I don’t even know how he’d heard of them, but one day he brought home a luridly-illustrated cassette called “Whale Music” sometime before we gave up our apartment, and we must have worn it out. Shortly after that, we began going to see the Rheos in concert, and last night marked probably the 15th time we’ve seen them, although I’ve long ago stopped counting. Each year, the band plays a series of shows at the legendary Horseshoe Tavern, and last night was “Whale Music Night”. They played the entire album in sequence, and with a generous encore, the show stretched to almost two and a half hours, but I was never less than transfixed by this transcendent music. As an added bonus, author Paul Quarrington was invited onstage at the beginning of the show to read from his hilarious and sad novel Whale Music which was the inspiration for the title of this record. (In a strange twist, the Rheostatics were invited to provide the score for a film made of the book, so there are actually two albums of theirs with the title “Whale Music”.)

It’s difficult to describe the music of the Rheostatics. For this album, there were four different songwriters, and four vocalists, but more than any other of their records, it feels like one piece. I’m a huge fan of guitarist Martin Tielli, and his compositions feel the most orchestral and moody to me, and I think that’s what ties the whole thing together. All the band members are insanely gifted musicians, but in addition, Tielli is a talented painter who’s created all the band’s album covers, and singer/guitarist Dave Bidini is a well-known writer who’s written books about hockey, baseball and rock music. I’ve had the privilege to meet the painfully-shy bassist/singer Tim Vesely on a few occasions, and I’ve always been impressed by the fact that no one in this band shows even a shred of rock-star ego.

Whale Music begins with a song called “Self Serve Gas Station” and it sounds vaguely like a country song. I’m surprised that I stuck with it, since my problem with most Canadian music (especially bands like The Tragically Hip) is that I think they sound too “twangy”. But I was immediately drawn in by the strange lyrics (“He wanted to bust the glass because I wouldn’t give him gas, I said ‘You shouldn’t even be driving'”). My favourite tracks are the ones by Martin Tielli, and “California Dreamline” might be my favourite song ever (“questionable things like dolphins helping people to swim”) and reinforces my feeling that Martin’s songs are always somehow related to water.

I could keep going but I think the best thing would be for you to let this album wash over you personally. There’s a line in the stunning end-of-album closer “Dope Fiends and Boozehounds” that references Pink Floyd’s “Dark Side of the Moon”, another seminal album for druggy kids of my generation. This album is sort of like that. Listen to it in a darkened room from start to finish and tell me that you don’t agree that this is the Greatest Canadian Rock Album Ever.

One of the great things about living in the 21st-century is that it’s now possible for more people to hear this wonderful music. You can download the whole beautiful thing for $8.88 right here. Run, people!

Track Listing

  1. Self Serve Gas Station/
  2. California Dreamline
  3. Rain, Rain, Rain
  4. Queer
  5. King of the Past
  6. RDA (Rock Death America)
  7. The Headless One
  8. Legal Age Life at Variety Store
  9. What’s Going on Around Here?
  10. Shaved Head
  11. Palomar
  12. Guns
  13. Sickening Song
  14. Soul Glue
  15. Beerbash
  16. Who?
  17. Dope Fiends and Boozehounds

“King of the Past” video on YouTube
“Shaved Head” video from YouTube

Great Albums is an occasional feature on Consolation Champs where I relate some personal stories about life-changing music in lieu of any proper music criticism. You’ll probably learn more about me than about music, so consider that fair warning. For more, click the Great Albums category tag.

Farewell George Best

The Wedding Present – George Best (1987)

The Wedding Present – George Best (1987)

“I spent a lot of money on booze, birds and fast cars. The rest I just squandered.” — George Best

Football’s first megastar is laid to rest in Belfast today. I didn’t follow football when George was playing, but I was always intrigued that one of my favourite bands, The Wedding Present, named their first album after him. Alcoholism ruined his life off the pitch, but there was no denying his talent.

P.S. Perhaps I’ll write about this album soon, in my Great Albums series.

North of the Equator Again

We got back today about noon, and have been unpacking, showering, sleeping and doing laundry all day. Hoping to get the rest of my pictures up on Flickr by the end of the weekend (all 400 or so!) and will try to edit my travel journal into something vaguely interesting for public consumption.

Did I mention that we came back to more than 10cm of snow? After a full week of plus 30°C weather? Yuk.

P.S. The photo is one of my favourites, and I’m hoping to write something about Uruguay’s football culture for the excellent site The Global Game soon. Watch for it!