I recently interviewed Tenacious D for the Georgia Straight while they were backstage at The Tonight Show With Jay Leno. You can read the article here on Straight.com. Below is the full transcript of our chat…
A dream come true, getting paid by the Georgia Straight to annihilate some random musician who didn’t like my Kickstarter article.
You force the music section to take Michael Mann to the next general meeting of the Broke Vancouver Independent Musicians Association, and we reward you with a Payback Time T-shirt and two tickets to a Live Nation club show of your choice taking place in Vancouver within the next four weeks. Here’s this week’s winning whinge.
Here’s the thing—I actually agree with Michael Mann’s Pop Eye issue about bands asking for money. I do find it tacky and presumptuous, and in my 10 years as a touring and recording artist I’ve never used that tactic.
My bigger issue with Mr. Mann is his crass and uninformed portrait of what constitutes a touring musician. I’ve played everything from shithole bars to massive European festivals, I’ve slept on more floors and couches than I could ever remember. I’ve ruined relationships, lost jobs, made a little bit of money, and worked damn hard to do it. Playing in a touring band is hard work. Anyone who sustains that lifestyle will tell you it is not about cocaine and hookers. It is a gruelling and isolating lifestyle fuelled by an unrelenting passion to do what you love to do. I’m sure Michael has his circle of backslapping hipster cronies congratulating him on stirring the pot. But the bottom line is they are a bunch of armchair pussies. GET IN THE VAN, MICHAEL MANN! I dare you. You wouldn’t last a week.
Mann’s inflammatory article, I believe, casts a pall on the Georgia Straight and any other organizations that choose to print his writing or keep his employ. If his goal is to become the Glenn Beck of music journalism, then I guess he’s on the right track.
> Joseph Blood
Dear Joseph Martin (aka Joseph Blood of Bend Sinister!)—big fan here. Never heard your music—I always skip the opening act—but the way you bussed my table the last time I was at Glowbal really made my evening. That place is so much more rock ’n’ roll than the stupid hipster haunts I frequent, and the Moroccan lamb sirloin with fried eggplant and roasted red pepper saffron coulis is divine.
Thanks for the Payback Time letter! It, along with the thousands of responses my article generated, cements my belief that musicians in this country are a bunch of entitled little twits who can’t read and take themselves far too seriously.
In regards to your challenge that I get out of my comfy Eames armchair and spend 10 years suffering in a tour van, sleeping on floors while not doing drugs or having sex like you have, I think I’ll pass.
You see, for spending a few hours drunkenly wanking out my article—that became the most widely read piece of Canadian music criticism of the year—I got money, a little bit of infamy, numerous free drinks, and laid.
(Thanks for posting my photo online, dummies! Wouldn’t say it was a slut-boning, though. I’m what’s referred to in some circles as a “bossy bottom”.)
What did you get for wasting your time tweeting about me obsessively, commenting on my article, creeping on my Facebook profile, asking your girlfriend about me, then crafting this boring, self-righteous retort? I’ll tell you what you got: a pair of tickets to M83. See you there! I’m getting in for free too.
this article was originally published in the georgia straight in april 2012
Strange week! On Thursday April 12, I was invited to appear on CBC Radio 3 with Lisa Christiansen to discuss an article I wrote for the Georgia Straight. After that, I walked upstairs and got to be on Radio One with Stephen Quinn.
And the next day I was interviewed about the article for OpenFile by Michael Aynsley.
Thanks for humouring me Lisa, Stephen and Michael!
Stop trying to get me to fund your fucking album with a Kickstarter campaign. Same goes for getting your merch produced, your motel rooms paid for, and your bar tab settled. It makes you and your bandmates come across as a bunch of shameless and entitled pricks. You don’t see me aggressively asking people to pony up for my summer-long, cross-country cocaine and drunken slut–boning binge. So why is it okay when musicians do this?
Crowdsourcing is a great way to support brilliant new ideas and, occasionally, cause the Kony 2012 guy to jerk off in public. But we’ve reached the point where we have bands begging for money so they can get the hell out of their shithole towns in the Maritimes and summer in Vancouver (I’m looking at you, Paper Lions), or hire a publicist to get them more pixels of coverage on the blogs (take a step forward, Brasstronaut). Notions like suffering for your art and putting your money where your mouth is have been replaced by sickeningly safe-and-easy websites that allow you to turn your band into a charitable cause in five minutes. Yeah, releasing a kick-ass gatefold vinyl with holograms and gold-leaf lettering is a totally awesome idea, but it’s not exactly Live Aid.
Instead of panhandling online, here’s a novel idea: crowdsource a little business acumen and produce something people actually want to give you money for. At least the homeless guy on the corner has the decency to make a funny sign and do 50 one-armed pushups if I toss him a few shekels. What are you offering, some MP3s and a shout-out on Twitter? Christ, if your album’s any good I’ll be able to cop it for free off the Pirate Bay.
“Oh, but I’m a musician and making a living is tough.” Boo-fucking-hoo. Try writing for a living, asshole. Regardless of whether you want to get paid to play music or call musicians insufferable cunts, there are literally dozens of hacks lined up behind you who’ll gladly do it for free because they love it. (Depressingly, some of them even find a way to get paid.) If you don’t like it, stop chasing rock stardom and go push paper in an office. You’ll be forgotten quickly and someone else will take your place. Also, your tattoos will make you the “eccentric one” at whatever accounting firm hires you to be the Mick Jagger of coffee fetching and photocopying.
You want a handout? Release some halfway decent music you recorded in your apartment and give it away for free. I’ll come check you out and pay the $10 cover. (I’m speaking as a metaphorical everyman here. I don’t actually pay cover, ever.) Alternatively, get someone who’s really good at filling out forms to play an inconsequential instrument in your band, like the triangle or the bass guitar. While you’re rehearsing, put that fucker to work on grant applications from bloated arts organizations that help destitute, independent musicians like Metric and Arcade Fire pay the catering budgets on their music videos. To quote Alec Baldwin in Glengarry Glen Ross, “Money’s out there. You pick it up, it’s yours. You don’t, I got no sympathy for you.”
I work hard for every cent I make. (Metaphorical everyman again. I do as little work as possible.) So don’t spam me with your tales of artistic woe. What you’re asking for isn’t patronage. It’s a public guilt trip that perverts the DIY ethos and shows a tremendous lack of respect to your friends and fans. “Oh, you gotta support, man.” No, I don’t. And anyone who utters that line to you deserves a punch in the face. Besides, I’ve got enough problems of my own, like figuring out how I’m going to realize my dream of getting high, then nailing a harlot in every province and territory of this great country of ours. Every donation, no matter how small, is deeply appreciated.
this article was originally published in the georgia straight in april 2012
It’s not often you get to witness someone of Pitbull’s stature end a concert by announcing he has diarrhea. However that’s what happened on the first Canadian stop of the Planet Pit World Tour at Rogers Arena. The Cuban-American battle rapper turned global pop superstar thanked the crowd and complimented the city. Then he announced he got Montezuma’s Revenge in Mexico a few days ago and hurried off the stage without doing an encore.
Mr. Worldwide’s diarrhea isn’t the only thing that’s currently exploding. He put out his sixth and best selling album to date, Planet Pit , back in June and videos for five singles he’s released or appeared on in the past year have clocked over a billion YouTube views. The guy sitting shotgun on the tour, Flo Rida, is no slouch either. He’s moved over 40 million singles and currently has the number one song on iTunes Canada. Though it was surprisingly poorly attended, that didn’t put a damper on the party. The bridge-and-tunnel crowd, sporting only the finest tribal tattoos and bejewelled Ed Hardy gear, wouldn’t even let the show starting 45 minutes late keep them from knocking back Mike’s Hard Lemonades and having a fist-pumping good time.
Flo Rida boldly started with his biggest tune, “Right Round”, and easily kept the crowd excited for the whole show. Whenever the hit-maker from a yet-to-be-determined U.S. state commanded “put your hands in the air” those in attendance always obliged enthusiastically. The only hiccup was a cringe-inducing pop interlude courtesy of 16-year-old Tyler Medeiros from Toronto. Fortunately, that agony immediately ended when Flo Rida returned and performed monster hits “Club Can’t Handle Me” and “Wild Ones” before finishing with “Good Feeling”.
It didn’t go so well for Pitbull. A few songs into his set he launched into “International Love”. The song, which could be the most unintentionally ironic pop anthem ever penned is dedicated to women all over the world while featuring a hook sung by Chris Brown who so famously Auto-Tuned Rihanna’s face. A few minutes in and the sound went out and the big screen was off then flashing the Pioneer Electronics logo. Oops. Pitbull, like a pro, proceeded like nothing had gone wrong and began the next number.
He played all his current hits, a few old ones like “Culo” and even did a medley of popular songs he’s done guest appearances on. Despite six albums of original material, a sizable chunk of the show was devoted to playing club hits by Black Eyed Peas, Martin Solveig, LMFAO (twice!) and others while he salsa danced in his finely tailored suit and encouraged the crowd to make some noise. It was Pavlov gone awry, a Pitbull ringing a bell and making an audience salivate even though they shouldn’t.
The show ended with “Give Me Everything”, the biggest hit off Planet Pit . It would have been nice if Pitbull gave us everything. Instead, attendees got all the hits and nothing more. Salsa dancing with the runs can’t be comfortable and it didn’t seem like anyone who bought a ticket left disappointed. Clearly we’ve become too complacent with the entertainment at Rogers Arena. He was, after all, on a stage just metres above where we’ve seen Roberto Luongo crap the bed in far more epic fashion.
photo by rebecca blissett www.rebeccablissett.com
this article was originally published in the georgia straight in march 2012
For a while, Steve Aoki was hipsterdom’s gateway drug. More than purchasing your first pair of skinny jeans, getting top-shelf vodka poured down your gullet by the 34-year-old Los Angeles–based DJ, producer, and founder of Dim Mak Records at one of his gigs was a hipster rite of passage. Sporting his trademark mane and facial hair, Aoki delivered sets that were famous for him dancing frenetically, screaming into the mike, spraying booze on the crowd, and, occasionally, playing a few songs. It wasn’t exactly a beard-stroking, intellectual experience, but if you were looking to party, having Aoki hit the decks was like having the Kool-Aid Man burst through your wall when you’re thirsty.
“As for me now, as a gateway drug, they [hipsters] stay away from me,” says Aoki over the phone from Montreal, prior to a show. “At this point, they’ve taken me away from that image. They don’t like me. I don’t represent their culture. In 2006, I wasn’t part of the EDM [electronic dance music] community. I was a hipster. I would never say that back then, because you just don’t say that you’re a fucking hipster.”
It’s true: Aoki has found a new fan base that is far less fickle, and that isn’t afraid to proudly wear its scene affiliation on its Day-Glo, fun-fur-lined sleeves. At present—along with A-Trak, Deadmau5, Diplo, and Skrillex—he’s one of the high-profile faces of North American EDM, and he couldn’t be happier. Who can blame him? He’s traded in his hard-earned cool points for stadium-size crowds.
“The thing with the EDM world is, it’s entirely about the music,” Aoki contends. “Of course, there’s other shit that goes with the EDM world—ecstasy and drugs and stuff—but at the end of the day, people are going there because they want to get high off the music. They might pop other shit too, but that’s secondary. With hipster culture, they don’t give a fuck about the music, really.
“There’s no way a hipster would go to my show tonight in Montreal and spend $40 to be with a bunch of raging fans who are jumping and dancing and sweating their asses off,” he adds. “No fucking way a hipster would come.”
The guaranteed-hipster-free show that he’s talking about is part of his Deadmeat Tour. Fittingly sponsored by Rockstar Energy Drink and hitting 45 cities in 58 days, it touches down in Vancouver this weekend. Aoki, who estimates he’ll spend 280 days on tour this year, will be performing a live DJ set, consisting entirely of his own songs. Sharing the spotlight is dubstep DJ–producer Datsik, a recent addition to Dim Mak’s roster and a Kelowna, B.C., native.
“It’s definitely ambitious,” Aoki says. “We’re travelling with two buses and an 18-wheeler carrying production. It’s extremely expensive—I pretty much had to mortgage my house on this thing. When you’re deejaying, you don’t really have to worry about costs. You fly in and play. I spent the last six months setting up this tour and making it the most multidimensional musical experience that a fan of mine can get. I really want to give the best experience I possibly can. It costs a lot, but it’s worth it in the end.”
The tour is in support of Aoki’s debut full-length, Wonderland, a collection of singles that range from house and electro to dubstep, pop, and even thrash metal. Every song features one or more guest artists, including heavyweights like Weezer’s Rivers Cuomo, LMFAO, Kid Cudi, Blink 182’s Travis Barker, Zuper Blahq—an alter ego of the Black Eyed Peas’ will.i.am—and, of course, Lil Jon. (What dance music collaboration would be complete without him?)
“It chronicles three to four years of my life,” Aoki explains. “A lot of different influences came into my production, and there’s a lot of different sounds in there and a lot of different vocalists. I really wanted an eclectic album.”
Though the Deadmeat Tour is a dance-music show and there’ll be dilated pupils aplenty, you couldn’t blame someone if they mistook it for Ozzfest. “The atmosphere is changing, for sure. Back in the day there wouldn’t be moshing. Now there’s a lot of characteristics from a rock concert that happen at an EDM show, like crowd-surfing or stage-diving.”
Aoki traces this rave-to-rock-concert shift back to early Justice shows in 2007. “They defined electro to the world,” he argues. “People were crowd-surfing and stage-diving because their sound was thrashing. It was aggressive. Electro was the punk of the EDM world. It was the rebel. It’s what punk was to rock ’n’ roll.”
So while the queue to see Aoki won’t look like a Boxing Day sale at Urban Outfitters, and he’s going to be performing live instead of deejaying, that doesn’t mean he’s no longer going to be dancing, screaming, and riding on top of the crowd in an inflatable raft.
“You get the full show. I really give the maximum energy and entertainment value that I can,” he promises. ”If you came for the music, then you came for the right reason. And then I’m going to give you what’s on top.”
Rest assured, he’ll still be spraying the crowd with booze—only now he’s buying it by the case, and you’ll have to fight harder to get some in your mouth.
In + out
Steve Aoki sounds off on the things that enquiring minds want to know.
On his hardcore roots: “I’ve been in hardcore bands since I was a teenager. It was my life. I lived and breathed and died by it. In many ways, the ethos of that generation—its attributes—are still part of the way I think about music, the way I think about business, and the way I think about my lifestyle.”
On Vancouver’s Felix Cartal, whose Different Faces album comes out March 27 on Dim Mak: “I’ve been a supporter and a fan and a record label to Felix Cartal from day one. I love him to death, and he’s a good friend of mine, and I believe in his vision.”
On his most outrageous party story: “Usually, I can’t remember my most outrageous party stories because I’m so blackout drunk. Two thousand and six was a really fucking crazy year for me. I was drinking every time I was deejaying, so I was drunk 200 days of the year. I remember at one show—it was an Ed Banger and Dim Mak party with Justice and me and Klaxxons—I was so drunk I was riding on an ice-cream truck and I jumped off of it and rolled on the ground. The next thing I know, I was in my office with just my socks on.”
this article was originally published in the georgia straight in march 2012
I recently completed this a website for the Wild Child Mandy-Lyn’s latest proeject, Hubba Hubba Magazine. Check it out
Going to a Wilco gig on Super Bowl Sunday is like stepping into an alternate reality. Prior to the veteran Chicago alt-rock group’s show, Granville Street was experiencing Saturday-night levels of bedlam as jersey-wearing yahoos, sozzled on Jägerbombs, spilled into the streets to celebrate America’s high holiday. Inside the Orpheum Theatre, it was as if the game never took place, even though the much-loved band—fronted by the even more-loved Jeff Tweedy—hit the stage two hours after the New York Giants had claimed the Vince Lombardi Trophy.
The crowd wasn’t made up of kids who only discovered Wilco after 2011’s The Whole Love bagged a Grammy nomination for best rock album. No, the audience was largely long-timers who’ve been around since the band’s inception, the seats packed with hip grey hairs and cool dads of all kinds. Though there wasn’t a Nudie suit in the building, there was a guy in a tie-dyed Grateful Dead shirt who looked like Wavy Gravy if he attended business school and hit the gym.
This was Wilco’s first show in Vancouver since a free outdoor concert during the 2010 Olympic Winter Games that, presumably, older fans didn’t brave the rain and massive lineup to get into. Factor in that there hasn’t been this much hype for the band since 2002’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and it was unlikely the hungry crowd was going home unhappy. On just the third song in, “Art of Almost”, the love-in was on.
How good was it when they launched into that number from The Whole Love? Even the ladies behind me stopped screeching at everyone to sit down so they could see the show. They got off their asses, stood with the rest of us, and started having fun because we were in the midst of a psychedelic freakout. The visuals quickly got trippy enough to make you think you were about to lapse into a K-hole and you just knew that somewhere in the audience, Wavy Gravy, CA, was having the time of his life.
Wilco played all the songs—“Heavy Metal Drummer”, “Impossible Germany”, and the current single “Dawned on Me”—that those south of 30 would know. At the same time the band was very aware of the old-school contingent in the audience, and dug deep into its catalogue. A third of the two-hour set was pre-Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, with the final three tracks of the evening—“Red-Eyed and Blue”, “I Got You”, and “Outtasite (Outta Mind)”—coming from Wilco’s second album, 1996’s Being There.
Tweedy and those other guys even tapped into their 1998 collaboration with Billy Bragg, Mermaid Avenue, the singer musing that it would be great if “ ‘Canada’ was pronounced ‘Ca-nah-dee-ah’ ” so he could incorporate it into the song “California Stars”. Wilco performed that song as “Ca-nah-dee-ah Stars” for a verse, then Tweedy reverted back to the original lyrics and Woody Guthrie’s ashes were once again at peace.
Though addressing the faithful infrequently, the bearded singer appeared to be in good spirits. At one point in the show, he playfully singled out an interloper in the crowd—a woman in a New York Giants jersey. “You must be excited. Your favourite sportsball team won today,” he kidded. For fans of Wilco, this was an inarguably memorable show. But for that woman in the Giants jersey, Sunday, February 5, 2012, was a day she won’t ever forget.
photo by rebecca blissett www.rebeccablissett.com
this article was originally published in the georgia straight in february 2012
I recently completed a site for Edward McKeever’s eco-friendly, decorative painting and design company, Strong River. Check it out…
Recently I helped coordinate the design and construction of 1000 masks that we gave to attendees of the massive NYE Party at the Waldorf Hotel in Vancouver. We contacted 8 talented artists, got them to submit two designs each, printed them, cut them out with scissors or boxcutters, then strung them. I would not recommend attempting to do this unless you’re insane.
Have a look at all the designs…
Dubstep might be the new heavy metal. It’s dark, it’s aggressive, and it’s already conquered North American suburbs with little mainstream media support. Born in the clubs of south London in the early oughties, Dubstep is a hybrid of dub, drum and bass, and glitchy electronica. At its most inoffensive, it’s moody restaurantica. At its best, it’s an obnoxiously fun and angry assault on your ears; the kind that makes you say, “What is this shit? That’s not music,” just like every generation of old people has uttered when they were confronted with a new and exciting musical genre.
Maybe you love it, maybe you hate it, maybe you’ve never heard of it. Regardless, it’s impossible to ignore anymore as it’s gradually popping up everywhere. You’ll hear a Rusko song between whistles at sporting events, read a great review of Burial on your favourite blog, see a hilarious YouTube video with a dubstep score or watch a stripper dance to a Skream remix of La Roux at the No5 Orange (it was an incredibly classy performance). And it’s only going to keep spreading. This past week, Justin Bieber announced his next album is going to include some dubstep while the biggest name in the genre, Skrillex, was receiving five Grammy nominations — including Best New Artist.
Skrillex, who seemingly appeared overnight, is so huge YouTube will probably make you sit through a Procter & Gamble ad for VapoRub or a digital pregnancy test before you can watch his excellent video for “First of the Year (Equinox)” (It received a Grammy nomination for Best Short Form Music Video). Or maybe give a listen to this one, “Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites,” which is closing in on a stupefying 50 million views. To give you a little perspective, the first single from Jay-Z and Kanye West’s album Watch the Throne has nearly 30 million views. Skrillex is a pop star that’s never had his music played on commercial radio or television.
In his previous life, when he was 18, Skrillex went by his given name Sonny Moore and was the lead singer of screamo band From First to Last (Yep, that’s him screamo-ing.) Now practically geriatric at 23, it only seems fitting that a kid who was signed to Epitaph Records and played the Warped Tour is the one to triumphantly bring dubstep from the trendy areas of London to the Hot Topics of every mall in suburban America. Feel old and out of touch yet? I sure do, and I’m the one writing about this shit.
Purists of the dubstep genre, of course, hate him. They say he looks like a jackass and his music lacks subtlety; that it’s too in your face. His sound has petulantly been labeled Brostep — the connotation being that only jockish idiots and frat boys listen to it. Having observed his fans closely when Skrillex was in Vancouver for two sold out shows at the PNE Forum in October, I’ll attest that they do look suspiciously like participants in the Stanley Cup Riot, only groovier. But maybe hockey’s not the violent sports reference I should be making. The dubstep snob’s critique of his music is comparable to a boxing fan ragging on MMA Fighting. Can’t we just all agree that, so long as someone’s face or ears get viciously maimed, it’s great entertainment?
this article was originally published in the tyee in december 2011
The premiere issue of Bag is now available for purchase from the Bag Store. Part monograph, part magazine, each issue of Bag is devoted entirely to one emerging Canadian artist. The first issue of Bag is about Vancouver artist Devitt Brown.
Let’s have a look at it…
On (Black) Friday November 25, the first issue of Bag was launched with an art show by Devitt Brown at Dynamo Gallery in Vancouver. Here are some photos from the show.
