Red Stripe in tallboy format is new to me, so I picked up a few tins for a recent toffee pull with my scrapbook club.
Total mistake. I haven’t been this disappointed since the bedroom scene in The Bridges of Madison County.
It’s so flavourless, I had to look at the label to remind myself that it’s beer. And talk about marketing blunders – Red Stripe’s traditional stubby bottle was the only thing giving this beer curb-appeal outside of the Caribbean. Trying to solve your quality conundrum by offering a greater quantity is like a buy-one-get-one-free sale at a used jock strap outlet.
True, drinking Red Stripe is one of the most popular things to do on the beach in Jamaica. But, so is getting a beads braided into your hair.
Granted, I’ve never been to Jamaica. But I don’t need to test the wares at a kick-in-the-dick factory to know I don’t want to go there, either.
As the internet continues its slow decay into a bottomless pit of Top 10 lists, I thought I’d do my part and offer up my Top 10 favourite and least favourite jams from the summer of 2009. I’ve probably forgotten a few on both sides, but beer will do that to a mental playlist. Anyway, summer’s over, so here we go.
*** Top 10 favourites from the Summer of 2009 ***
Gone, Gone, Gone, Joel Plaskett, Three
Probably my favourite track off Plaskett’s latest album, it’s got great harmonies and piano and slide guitar accompaniment. I saw him play twice this summer, but this tune never made his playlist. Pity.
Swimming in the Flood, Passion Pit, Manners
I heard fragments of this album all spring and it seemed too electro pop for my taste, but I fell for this track and it’s crescendo the first time I heard it all the way through.
Flashover, Howie Beck, How to Fall Down in Public
This song’s got a familiar, almost haunting sound. It’s a dangerous song to play while you’re getting ready to go out because you’ll be tempted to sit and listen to it all night.
New Goodbye, Hey Rosetta!, Into Your Lungs
Like a lot of people, I heard this band for the first time when I was exploring the finalists for this year’s Polaris Prize, and this song stuck. It’s nice to see there’s more to Newfoundland’s music scene than shitty Great Big Sea.
House of Flying Daggers, Raekwon feat. Ghostface Killah, GZA, Method Man & Inspectah Deck
Even though it appears on Raekwon’s album, this is basically a new Wu-Tang joint. Sure it’s missing living members like RZA and Cappadonna, but they’ve got quorum. Plus, it’s produced by J-Dilla, which means it’s certified fresh (although not really, since he died a few years ago of Lupus).
Zero, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, It’s Blitz!
I’ve always said Metric is the poor man’s Yeah Yeah Yeahs and this song reaffirmed that belief for me all summer long – especially with Emily Haines and the boys’ latest re-hashing of Live it Out clogging the airwaves.
Quiet Dog, Mos Def, The Ecstatic
This whole album is dope, but Quiet Dog is the sonic espresso I turn to when the Nabob doesn’t cut it.
My Hands, Jon-Rae Fletcher, Oh Maria
“Well I could kick the shit out of any motherfucker who crosses that line.” Sung over an oompah-band trombone. Gives me a music boner every time.
Death of Autotune, Jay Z, The Blueprint 3
I don’t know if it’s because I was jonesing for new Jay-Z, or because this track reminds me of “Takeover” off the Blueprint I, but I dug this all summer. I’m sick of it now, though.
Execution, Pink Mountaintops, Outside Love
A pretty song with an ugly name, this is another wicked band I discovered while going through the Polaris Prize list. A side project of Black Mountain, this album is full of music, but sometimes sounds like it was recorded with just a couple of mics. Great for when you’re feeling like a low if hipster.
*** Worst music from the Summer of 2009 ***
Hippy Drum Circles
I have hippies for neighbours and I live near a park that’s frequented by hippies and there’s never a fire hose around when you need one.
Birds Outside My Bedroom Window
It rained a lot last year, so I guess these birds didn’t hang around my place as much, but they’ve been out in force this summer, waking me up way too early most days. However, I’m told birds are descended from dinosaurs, so I don’t go near the motherfuckers.
All You Did Was Save My Life, Our Lady Peace, Burn, Burn
Oh man, I hate OLP. This song is the musical equivalent of head lice.
Run This Town, Jay-Z feat. Rihanna & Kanye West
Jay-Z’s one of my favourites of all time, but I hate it when he phones in the glue between cameo appearances on tracks like this. I also really don’t like Rihanna’s voice.
Help I’m Alive, Metric, Fantasies
I know people lover her, but to me, Emily Haines is a heroine addiction away from being Courtney Love. Her voice is nicer, but this band’s basically been re-recording the same song over and over again for years – kind of like what Nickelback does.
I’ll Go Crazy if I Don’t Go Crazy Tonight, U2, No Line on the Horizon
“Every generation has the chance to change the world, pity the nation who won’t listen to your boys and girls.” PUKE. It didn’t help that this song was a BlackBerry ad all summer. If idealist ’80s Bono could see today’s cellphone shilling Bono, he’d kick himself in the dick.
I Gotta Feeling, Black Eyed Peas, The E.N.D.
Holy shit, this song is like H1N1. It’s absolutely everywhere and there’s you can do to stop it. Almost makes me wish that Fergie’s late ’90s meth addiction had stuck.
I’m on a Boat, The Lonely Island, Incedibad
This hip hop parody featuring Andy Samberg and T-Pain was hilarious at first, and then the douchebags took it over and ruined if for everybody just like they did with Happy Gilmore and beers after work.
Live Your Life, T.I. feat. Rihanna
This song’s almost a year old, but it was featured in the hit movie, The Hangover, which I guess was enough for people to dig back out of their iTunes catalogs and blast it all summer. By the way, Rihanna is basically impersonating Cher’ Believe on this track.
Right Round, Flo Rida
If I was ’80s one hit wonders Dead or Alive, I would sue Flo Rida with defamation of character for what he did to this song. Dude makes Diddy look like Phil Spector (’60s genius Phil Spector, not homicidal maniac Phil Spector.)
Word that the Old York Bar and Grill is up for sale gave me pause earlier today. It was my pub for about 5 of my 8 years in Toronto and a source of a lot of good times during those years. Now I know how Obi Wan Kenobi must have felt when Alderon got Death Starred.
If you’re going to install a hangover, you should do it somewhere where the people are cool, the music is good and you’re not constantly surrounded by douchebags. The Old York didn’t always offer all these qualities – but for a long while I lived across the street from the place which forgave the odd surly bartender or “smooth jazz” performance.
I guess it was inevitable. The bar owner said she didn’t know what she was going to do when I told her I was leaving town – unless we could work out some sort of barimony payment arrangement. If only I had socked away all the cash I spent on pints at the place, I’d probably be able to afford two of them.
Of course, the place isn’t gone yet. In a period of recession, owning a bar is like having a license to sell gold-plated skinny jeans to hipsters.
Hard times call for hard alcohol, as I like to say.
Not only that, the place has a lot going for it. Situated a few blocks off King St. West near downtown Toronto, it’s in the heart of a pretty choice neighbourhood. It’s got one of the best patios in Toronto - as long as you can stand the stench of death that emanates from the abattoir across the road every now and then, or the occasional sewer backup on rainy nights. And it’s now surrounded by condos that are chuck full of transplanted suburbanites from the 905. Sure they’re douchbags from places like Burlington and Pickering, but their pockets are lined and they rarely ever sit at the bar.
This isn’t an obit for the Old York, but I do fear for what could happen to the place if it falls into the wrong hands.
No spoilers, just a few impressions that survived a night’s sleep.
+ I liked it. It’s a light, playful, but sophisticated crime caper. It feels like it was written and directed by a hipster with a fine arts degree re-wrote Ocean’s Eleven after watching too many Wes Anderson and Coen Brothers flicks. Hmmm.
+ Best line of dialogue in a long time: “That’s my new favorite camel.” There are others.
+ Bang Bang was my favorite character and I hope she wasn’t paid by the word.
+ In keeping with the slight of hand theme present throughout the film, there are lots of little things to notice in the peripheries – some clever, some cute, many meaningless – but all interesting enough to keep you engaged. Why do they have digital cameras, but not cell phones? Why are they all dressed like they’re in a White Stripes video? What the hell kind of booze bottles are those?
+ I normally don’t care for Adrien Brody, but he’s very good with Mark Ruffalo. Rachel Weisz is great and clearly had fun trying to play an American.
+ Literature majors will have a time with this one. Tons of references to dead Russian authors and fruity British lit peppered among aloof exchanges.
+ It looks like writer/director Rian Johnson was having some fun paying tribute to what I can only think are some sources of inspiration. Playing card affectations among the characters reminds you of The Sting. Cat Stevens playing over a halcyon romp through a field recalls Hal Ashby. And there was a pretty good attempt at a pose from the album art for “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan” (with Bob Dylan’s, “Tonight I’ll be staying here with you” playing over top. sheesh.)
+ I thought for sure it was narrated by Paul Giammati, but turns out it was Ricky Jay, a man you don’t often see outside a David Mamet cast listing. The plot of Rian Johnson’s inspiration plot thickens.
Pretty good movie, but in the end, it made me want to go home and watch Rushmore and The Big Lebowski.
I know “I’m Yours” is not a new song, but I just saw the clip below tonight. I’ve heard the song all over the place for some time, but I’ve never actually heard Jason Mraz speak. Now I can’t sleep because I have one of my famous sarcasm ice cream headaches.
Songs like this serve a purpose. Hollywood needs them to play during the credits of Kate Hudson and Sandra Bullock movies. Guys need to learn how to play them so they can get laid on camping trips. And the singers themselves need them so they don’t need to resort to male prostitution to buy Bed Head hair gel and wool toques to wear in southern California.
But these vapid male singer-songwriter types shouldn’t talk. They shouldn’t open their mouths and let words like this come out:
“I know I close my eyes sometimes when I sing. That doesn’t mean I’m shutting you guys out. It just means I’m going to someplace in my imagination for a while. “
Shit, I’ll bet even Stevie Wonder would want to clock him after hearing that. But he continues:
“As soon as we can get some technology to broadcast what that image is in my head, we will. Don’t worry. We’re working on that.”
Cool. I’m down As long as the thing they invent right before that is a douchebag detector/disposal unit.
Watch the clip and decide for yourself. Oh, and Jack Johnson can get fucked too.
Joel Plaskett put on a clinic in rocking asses off at the Wild Horse Saloon in Calgary last night. It was great show, especially since it wasn’t even supposed to happen. Plaskett was a last minute fill-in at the downtown Stampede bar tent after Technotronic cancelled late last week.
I can’t really blame Technotronic. You see, here in Calgary we’re in the middle of Stampede. a western celebration of over-sized livestock. Many Calgarians try to duck and cover during this rodeo week, myself included, lest ye be made sick by free pancake breakfasts and overpriced Kokanee ($7.75/can, WTF?!). But this show was a welcome change from the regular cow molestation and ripoffery that happens at the main Stampede grounds.
Here some highlights
+ Plaskett was a good sport. Drunk cowboy wannabes and oil executive douchebags are not his usual audience, but he seemed to take the cowboy hats and tacky rodeo shirts in stride.
+ He did not participate. There were no cowboy hats, boots or any other western accoutrements on stage. Other artists might have donned the duds, but not the good ones.
+ Plaskett was joined by the Emergency, the electric outfit that backed him on his first few albums. They covered a lot of the same material that Plaskett brought to town a month ago during a more sedate acoustic tour (which was also awesome) for his latest album, 3. It was great to hear a lot of those songs played loud and fast.
+ Though completely predictable, the set list was a perfect tour of Plaskett’s discography. “True Patriot Love” and “Nowhere With You” remain perennial crowd favourites, while new tracks like “Through and Through and Through” are on their way.
+ Mid show, someone tossed him a cowboy hat. He tried it on for sec and quickly tossed it away like it was made of bat turd.
+ Ending the show with “Fashionable People” injected a dose of irony that I don’t think most of the cowboy hats and bolo ties got.
Low lights
+ Alternating between beer and vodkar tonics was not a good idea. This morning I felt like I was bitten by a vampire.
+ “Sailor’s Eyes”. It’s a song off his latest album and I don’t like it.
+ Country western hip hop dance party. Once the show ended, the country music started and instead of going home like smart music fans, we hung out and pretended like we were listening to Tribe Called Quest.
+ Face planting while attempting a freeze during an ill-planned breakdance throw down. I don’t know whether to blame the beer or the vodkar But it’s like I say. if you don’t wake up with some sort of mystery pain, you’re doing something wrong.
Here’s a Joel Plaskett video for a great song off his latest album:
Red Stripe in tallboy format is new to me, so I picked up a few tins for a recent toffee pull with my scrapbook club.
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