aural cultures edited by jim drobnik & caught in the act: an anthology of performance art by canadian women edited by tanya mars and johanna householder: these titles pique my interest; have you read them? what’d you think?
Archive for July, 2006
i’m a die-hard fan of holland’s last album, escondida, all its alt-country infused with 1920s blues. her bizarre open vowels flatten me against a wall, heart strained against ribs. and she intones her lyrics well.
do you have to go crazy? is that the best thing that you can think to do? i know i’m lost without a place to go crazy; i know there’s a sunrise on the other side to pull me through. — “do you”, escondida
springtime can kill you‘s heavier on the country, stronger on maturity, and subtler with play, so it’s taking me awhile to slip into this album as a result. give me a dark room and and some sweet almond oil; i’ll get back to you on springtime. (sample tracks online for your audio pleasure.)
as for the knife, consider me eternally under the spell. karin dreijer bewitched me the first time i heard her violently happy vocals as part of her former band, honey is cool. i’ve espoused previously the seventeen virtues of honey is cool, so i won’t ramble again but will instead direct you to my ancient, wee attempt at a fansite (several years old, oh nostalgia).
i put a snailshell in your last mouthful. you buy a horse and the horse wants to lick you! you’ve got it all. – honey is cool
post-honey is cool, karin’s worked with her brother, olof, on the knife. their quirky self-titled debut exploded with ramped-up 80s casio keyboard blips and beats, and i swiftly fell in love. those lyrics!!! that voice!!!
charlotta making lasagna with me above the clouds… but you could have waited; you could have locked yourself up for ten years or so… – “neon,” the knife
the knife lost me a bit with its poppy deep cuts, but they’ve reined me in with their third album, silent shout (which you can listen to online so what are you waiting for?). karin and olof weave life into their electronica. who knew creepiness could be so energetic?
she said my favourite book was dirty and “you should not show you can read.” — from “forest families,” silent shout
yesterday afternoon, katherine and i met at pages to commence research and recording for her new podcast project (watch imperfect offering for news). after a short stint at pages (where they’re proudly displaying a cool poster promoting the men), we sped to art metropole. great fun, perusing the shelves and chatting with staff member and language-based conceptual artist tonik rockonski.
we then hightailed it to music(in)galleries, an afternoon gallery hop organized by the association of improvising musicians. the new gallery, located in artscape’s live/work building, featured victor bateman on solo bass. (upright bass and cello are my two favourite instruments right now; i want to learn.) the new gallery was a treat to see, as conor and i live quite close and often wonder what this building looks like inside.
doug tielli and scott thomson’s duelling trombones at mocca provided synchronistic dischord and mood to the darkness awakens show on the walls. this is one creepy show; shary boyle has given me nightmares.
we bumped into gary barwin outside of camera, and then made our way to katherine mulherin for my favourite stop on the tour. dave clark (drums and assorted sonic paraphrenalia) and ellen waterman (flute) exuded glee as they explored how many ways they could interact audibly with their instruments, their bodies, and the gallery space. kris knight‘s paintings of disturbed innocence leapt off the walls as dave and ellen paraded through their corner of the space. i recommend checking out kris’ work (both his madame deficient series and i wanna be a pirate…).
next stop for us was the david kaye gallery, where two young artists furiously collaborated on a sketch of anne bourne, jake oelrichs, and john oswald as they improvised. we then meandered over to the gladstone hotel, where mike hansen and paul dutton provided the final destination for the walkabout. the audio was too loud, excruciating at a few moments, but that didn’t seem to deter a spilled-onto-the-streets audience of 80+. their vocal/turntable improvs were hella cool, and it was clear both performers had fun and listened to each other as they worked.
1) UK butterfly species are becoming extinct due to disappearing habitat.
2) first cicada buzz of 2006: o7/23, 9:48am. i’ve kept a jar of “things with wings” for several years, which includes found organic material that crossed my path at a relevant moment. in 2001, i found a dead cicada on the hallway floor of my former apartment building. the cicada was as long as my pinky finger and frightening to behold. it’s definitely the most fearsome creature in my jar.
3) our third-floor office window is wide open with no screen. a curious sparrow visits me now and then. it almost hopped inside last time. i should close the window.