Music is my safe drive home

It's 2, 3, 4am and I'm driving myself home along the route I know so well. Warkworth to Campbellford, Campbellford to Warkworth. County Road 29 to Highway 30. I must have travelled it hundreds of times. A passenger, a driver, a child, an adult. The grain silos, the house with the moose painted on one wall, the flea market, the golf course. I don't even pay them any attention now. Each curve and rise and fall of the road could be my own body.

Then one night, it snows.
A lot.

Nothing has changed, the route is the same, but now I fight to concentrate as the smallest drops and flakes compete for my limited attention. All I want to do is get home but I can only see the road directly in front of me and it's impossible to tell where the road ends and the shoulder (or ditch) begins. I'm quite certain I know what each rotation of the wheels will bring but the change in the weather is making me doubt my instincts.

I keep my eyes wide. I don't want to miss the warm and hazy orange glow that resides in the sky above the Warkworth Penitentiary. It means I'm halfway there. The traction control is supposed to help me. If one wheel is spinning out of control it keeps the other three gripping for stability. But the stabilizing pulls me in different directions and I don't want to move forward. I just want to stop. Take a break. Take a breath.

So I listen to music. I turn the volume up and I drive. The familiar synth lines of Depeche Mode will ease my anxiety. The pounding melodies and falsetto screams of Muse will energize me. Never underestimate the power of a well-constructed playlist.

Music is my temple.
Music is my drug fix. 
Music is my safe drive home...

Techno Update

It's official.
My laptop is dead.
D.E.A.D. Dead.
But don't feel too sorry for me.
I only waited a day before ordering a MacBook Pro.
It should be here on Christmas Eve.
Delicious.

Nicole, Peter and Evan Pull an Unnecessary All-Nighter

Good morning.
Yes, still awake.
I really have nothing to say.
I've already sent Jess about three emails.
Evan and I watched about two hours of Ricky Gervais stand-up.
And countless hours of questionable TV.
A Double Shot of Love, anyone?
Chips, Pepsi, sandwich meat, scrambled eggs.
People have started waking up for work.
Several friends have come and gone.
Peter is still here.
He came home from Ottawa around 4:30 this morning.
He brought Evan and I our pre-ordered and signed Matthew Good Live at Massey Hall CDs!
Rocks socks.
Apex concert tonight at CDHS.
See you there.
I guess I did have something to say.

A Warkworth Holiday

The Fine Art of Tree Decorating
From my chair by the newly hoisted tree I periodically reach to my left and place a decoration. My mom is a tree decorating master and after readjusting the lights about 4 times and readjusting the tilt of the tree about 8 times we've started actually decorating. Doing this always reminds me of a home video of my dad and I decorating the tree. I was about 3 years old and therefore only capable of reaching the bottom of the tree. I don't know how, but it took us HOURS to finish this seemingly simple task. It's impossible to watch the video in real time. That's what fast-forward is for.

The Technology Santa Has It In For Me
This is the first time I have braved the slooooow dial-up internet since coming home. Not to be over-dramatic, because we all know I'm never one to hyperbolize, but dial-up makes me want to DIE. Apparently my laptop has also had enough because for the past 2 weeks it's been blue-screen-of-deathing all over the place. It's at the shop. And it better cut the shit and start behaving like the loyal servant I expect it to be! Plus, my brother's Playstation 3 stopped working and his cell phone was attacked by metal detectors at customs in New York. I think these are signs of a coming apocalypse. Everyone, into your fallout shelters! I mean, storm shelters...

It's all over now, baby blue

Year 3 Semester 1: LEVEL COMPLETED

Today I wrote my only exam.
So it's time to celebrate...or uh, relax or sleep or, what ever...
Check out this rad song by SugaRush Beat Company, yo!
I feel an obsession coming on.
Yeah, I heard it on Grey's Anatomy.
What of it?

There's no place like Weldon

After a brief trip home for dinner, Steph and I are back at the library. 

For anyone who may have seen us here and looked at my laptop screen, I'll have you know that this is what it looks like when I study! I am not watching clips from Disney movies because I love Disney and just can't get enough. No. I am in the unfortunate position of having to study for the Disney exam I have tomorrow afternoon.

Now, I just have a couple questions about this short:
Why is God a pink strobe cloud?
Was Alfalfa's hairdo inspired by Noah?
Did God actually give Noah a blueprint? How nice of him.

If anyone is looking for something tripperlicious, check out this collaboration between Disney and Dali.

Take it easy. Stay sane.

The Do-It-Yourself Music Industry

Don Ross a guest speaker at Fanshawe? Good thing I had my trusty 2 Dundas bus schedule in my purse to take notes on! Hello A&E Journalism found story.

In the past few years, it has become apparent that the internet may be indie music’s best friend.  Big mainstream record labels are great, with their contracts, marketing resources, and high-tech studios.  But perfecting the fine art of self-promotion and -engineering is the smartest thing that any performer or writer can do during this age of technological obsession.  I mean, come on.  Don Ross is doing it.

I think for many people, the term “indie music” conjures up the sounds of folk-like plinking guitar melodies or soaring synth and keyboard lines played by 20-somethings in skinny jeans, skinny sweaters and skinny t-shirts in neon colours. 

With so many unique artists classified under the indie umbrella, the way most people think of indie music just doesn’t work.  The genre is indefinable now.  The term “indie” is simply shorthand for “independent,” and refers to an artist or group not signed to a major label, regardless of musical style.

How does 48-year-old Don Ross fit into this?  Wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans, the Canadian fingerstyle guitarist gave an interview and performed three songs at Fanshawe College Friday afternoon.  I wouldn’t say Ross fits the image of a young hip indie musician, but after releasing nine albums for three major labels, he became an indie artist in the ‘90s and is signed with the independent online label Candyrat Records which specializes in virtuoso artists.  He’s familiar with the changing music industry.

According to Ross, there has never been a better time to be an indie artist.  All you need is YouTube, a MacBook Pro with Pro Tools, and a garage.  Or at least that’s what he uses. 

Downloading music for free from file sharing sites has become very popular and, rather than fighting the seemingly unstoppable trend, artists need to make the system work for them.  Yes, it’s a shame that so many people are less willing to pay for music now, but at the very least the downloading provides exposure.  Here’s where self-promotion through YouTube comes in.

I love YouTube.  It’s one of the things I miss most when I return home to dial-up internet.  If people can hear an artist’s music and see an artist’s unique style on YouTube, then the hope is that it will help that artist build a fan base.  Since it’s so easy to acquire music now, Ross says that live shows are the new Holy Grail of the music industry.  It was once records.  You use the internet to draw people in, get them buying tickets to your shows and, if you’re lucky, buying albums while they’re there! 

In the past year I’ve been privileged enough to see Bob Dylan in concert from the fifth row, and see The Spades, a young band from my home region, open for Matthew Good at the legendary Massey Hall.  Live shows are an undeniably unparalleled experience, and there’s always the possibility that the unknown opening band will become a new favourite.

Back to YouTube, 29-year-old American fingerstyle guitarist Andy McKee, Candyrat artist and friend to Ross, is a perfect example of its power.  Two years ago, McKee’s video for “Drifting” was featured on the site and has since been viewed almost 18 million times.  Sure, it’s no 26.3 million views in four months of Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida,” but I’d say that’s pretty good for an alternative indie artist!

The other big way artists set themselves apart from the masses and take control of their music is through self-engineering.  Here’s where that MacBook Pro you insisted you needed and your family’s unused garage come in.

Ross says the key to engineering your own music is having a good ear.  For all you artists graced with natural musical talent willing to put in the extra time, it’s a great alternative to paying techies to do it for you.  While fancy, expensive programs and equipment are helpful, if you have the musical and technical skills you can produce fairly high quality material with less extravagant equipment.

If I was an indie musician, I would probably be thinking, “That sounds pretty good, but are there any other benefits? I am, after all, a young starving artist with ever dwindling support from the Canadian government.” 

Good news.  In addition to having more creative control over your work, you can save money!  And in these times of financial crisis I think that’s something we can all high-five over.  Saving money is a staple of DIY projects and YouTube is, at least for now, free to use.

Do yourselves a favour, indie artists.  Take advantage of technology and the wonders of a DIY music industry.  And do everyone else a favour by providing videos with artistic merit so we aren’t stuck watching clips of people’s cats and 10-year-olds singing “I Kissed a Girl and I Liked It.”

How to Procrastinate

This is what my day has consisted of thus far:
  1. Drink tea or coffee
  2. Go pee
  3. YouTube the Viva La Vida video
  4. Stare out my window
  5. Check my email
  6. Write a couple sentences
On endless repeat.

Now, some people might think that you can only do any of the first five things so many times, but I think today I have proudly proved those people wrong. 

How has your day been?

Truly the Holiday Season

This is kind of old news but I just heard about it at breakfast with the girls this morning. So if you're also behind the times, check out this ultimate Rick Roll stunt RIGHT NOW. Cartoon Network FTW!

Jessica Davis, this is for you.
Happy Birthday baby!
xox

Honey, where's my apron?

I had some pasta cooking for dinner tonight and I thought to myself, I'll just wash these few dishes lingering in the sink while I wait. Mostly forks and knives, plus a glass or two and the giant blue plastic bowl Steph and I use for popcorn. I was moving from one item to the next as quickly as I could to get them done in between stirring the pasta. The old rag we've been using since our last sponge disintegrated was supposed to be my partner, my ally. It was supposed to have my back. But it seems I misjudged its loyalty. Or maybe just its abilty to keep up with my mad dish-washing skills. Which leads me to today's lesson:

Always ensure that the cloth or sponge is fully covering the blade of the knife before you run your hand along it.

Luckily, our knives are kind of cheap and therefore not incredibly sharp. I didn't exactly cut myself...it's more of a scrape... I scraped my thumb on the knife. Right on the inside where the thumb bends. Delicious.

And yet, I still love Toronto

Over the past 20 years I've probably been in Union Station in Toronto hundreds of times. I was there again yesterday. But no matter how many times I'm there, the dirtiness of the washrooms always surprises me. Even when someone is in there actually cleaning, the washrooms are still painfully sub-par. The once-white paint is chipped and stained, toilet paper clogs the toilets and the drains of the sinks, the mirrors smudged, and there are enough rogue paper towels to create a new floor covering.

I wandered around for a while to find a clean spot, then was lucky to choose a sink with a full soap dispenser on my first try. While I washed my hands, a woman with a young girl of about three years entered the washroom. The girl was head-to-toe in bright woolen stripes and her hat was yellow with little knit ears sprouting from the top. Watching her mother enter the large stall in the corner the girl stood with her feet firmly planted and her face scrunched and wrinkled.
"C'mon," her mother urged.
"I don't like this place," she shouted, emphasizing each word with childish disdain.
"Well...this is Union Station. You don't have a choice..."