RSTs Mk II: Getting More Tale

#863: Masks Are the New T-Shirt

GETTING MORE TALE #863: Masks Are the New T-Shirt

If you have been watching my videos or live streams, I’ve occasionally shown off my new masks.  Now, I don’t wanna get into the whole “issue” of masks.  I just want to talk about masks in terms of music, marketing, and keeping businesses alive in 2020.  No matter your political affiliation (I consider myself unaffiliated and flexible enough to change who I support), then if you are reading this then I think we can all agree on three things:

  1. We love music.
  2. We want businesses to survive in this difficult year.
  3. We need to do things that make us happy, especially now.

I’ve been saying for months:  every band, brand, and icon needs to put out branded masks, pronto!  Many of us are going to need masks for at least the next six months.  I have five Kiss masks currently.  I don’t know how long these things last, especially if you wash them as frequently as you have to, so I assume we’ll all need replacement masks in a little while too.  It makes sense to put out your own branded mask right now.  I love that I can put on a Kiss mask and go out and do my shopping.  It’s like wearing a T-shirt.  In 2020, the mask is the new T-shirt.  Especially in winter time when, in Canada, we will be wearing heavy jackets on our backs like a tortoise shell.  T-shirt weather is far behind us.  Bonus:  though they fog up my glasses, the mask does keep my nose warm in the morning chill.

To Kraft Dinner:  I would love to buy a mask from you that has your delicious cheesy noodles on my face!

To the estate of Frank Zappa:  I’m looking for a mask with his trademark moustache and beard.  Does such a thing exist?

Dear ZZ Top:  You know exactly what I want!  One of those longer “goiter” masks with your beards!

And local clubs, restaurants and businesses:  I would love to be able to buy a mask with your logo or website address on it.  We need to support each other in this time, I firmly believe, and that starts at home with our venues and clubs.

Sceptics might ask me, “Will any of that actually make the life-or-death difference for a business?”  I don’t know.  I didn’t study business or economics in school.  I just know that I am (somewhat) in a position to help (a little bit), and…I have to try.

I practice what I preach and have thrown a bone or two to some local businesses and music venues.  I’m not saying this to show off what a super guy I’m am, I’m saying this so I can lead by example.  I’m not wealthy though, and what works best for me is if I can buy some merchandise.  That way I get something I need while helping somebody else out.  I would rather buy official than knockoff.  I need more masks, and if there are enough cool ones, I could even give some as gifts to certain family members.

For the next six to twelve months (who knows?), masks are going to be in our lives.  Like it or lump it, I suppose they say.  Maybe I’ve just been more successful trying to have a positive attitude in 2020, but I’ve been able to…have fun?…with masks.  We gotta support each other to get through this damn pandemic, and to play on the words of my man Jon Bon Jovi:  I’ll Be There For You!  These five words I swear to you.  If you sell, I’ll buy a mask from you.  I’ll mask up for you!

 

 

#862: Strictly Commercial & Adventures in OCD

GETTING MORE TALE #862: Strictly Commercial & Adventures in OCD

When I was working at the Record Store, I was even pickier about the condition of my CDs than I am today.  Everything had to be pristine, including the case.  No scratches on the disc, and few to none on the jewel box.  I’d wanted some Frank Zappa for a while, but was never satisfied with the condition of those unique light green Rykodisc cases.  As trade-ins, they were always scratched, cracked or completely broken.  You never saw the obi strip on the top intact in a used copy.  Tired of waiting for one that met my exacting standards, I decided to buy it new.

It was fall in the late 90s, and I had the house to myself that weekend.  Everybody else was at the cottage.  This was during a time when I’d rather be home than at the lake.  I preferred to stay in town, hang out with T-Rev, hit the malls, watch some movies and listen to some music.  Not just new music, but new bands for my collection.  Along with Frank, I decided that I needed to add Journey to my collection that weekend.  It was going to be a great couple days off.

I’d already heard plenty of Zappa in-store and from buddy Tom up in Waterloo.  He was getting into Läther, a recent Zappa triple CD set designed to replicate a four record box set that Zappa originally envisioned back in 1977 but was forced to release scattershot instead.  Specifically I remember Tom hyping over “The Adventures of Greggery Peccary”, a 21 minute track about a pig.  I absolutely needed an artist like Frank Zappa in my collection if that’s the kind of thing he was about.  How could the girls resist me if I put a song like that on the stereo?

I knew HMV at Fairview mall would have Strictly Commercial: The Best of Frank Zappa in stock.  They always did.  T-Rev didn’t understand why I had to do this.  “I have a copy here right now,” he told me on the phone.  “There’s nothing wrong with it.  It plays fine, it’s in great shape.”

“But it doesn’t have the green case or that little obi strip that goes on top,” I countered.

“I guarantee that you cannot listen to a green case,” said T-Rev simply.  He was right.

But I was determined; there was nothing he could do to talk me out of the much more expensive new copy.  So that day I plunked down my $21.99 plus tax and bought my first Zappa.  With green case, unscuffed, and obi strip intact.

Trevor was right that I couldn’t listen to that green Ryko case, but there was also a certain satisfaction in seeing such a pristine one in my collection.  I made sure to protect it by carefully cutting the cellophane in such a way that I could slide the case in and out.  Although the cellophane has ripped a little in the two decades plus since then, it still protects the pristine green Ryko case beneath.

Although I do have a couple more green Rykodisc cases in my Zappa collection today, Strictly Commercial (review tomorrow) is the only one I insisted on buying new.  Having one was enough.  I was content to have less-than-perfect Zappas for Hot Rats and Ship Arriving Too Late To Save A Drowning Witch.  You have to be practical about such things after all!

 

#861: Fall(ing Down)

GETTING MORE TALE #861: Fall(ing Down)

The air is cooler, the leaves are changing colour, and I am sort of keeping it all together.

Six months ago we all went into lockdown, with the optimism of summer still ahead of us.  We didn’t know what summer would look like, but it had to be better than lockdown, right?  For most of us, it was.  We got outside, basked in some sun, watched the numbers go down, and dared to have some hope.

Now the days are shorter, the sleeves are longer, and the numbers are climbing once again.  As it gets colder, our options for getting out of the house are fewer.  Some people love this season.  They love the leaves, the sweaters, the blankets.  I dislike the cold, the dark, the misery.   Now we have to deal with the uncertainty of the future too.   Thanksgiving?  Halloween?  No guarantees.  Some will participate, some will be unable.

Fortunately, music will be there.  It always has been and always will be.

There are plenty of albums that I consider “autumn albums” even if they are not.

Savatage are a good band for fall and winter.  They might be from Florida but albums like Dead Winter Dead and Handful of Rain have a cold, dark aura.  Early Sabbath fits the mold.  Queensryche’s Rage For OrderRadiation by Marillion.  It’s all very subjective but as much as summer music really activated my memory circuits, the same can happen with winter tunes.  This is something to look forward to.

Yes, there are some things I can look forward to.  When I’m hunkered down indoors staying dry and warm, the VHS Archives will return.  I find this to be a good project to work on in the colder months.  Pulling out old VHS tapes, converting them and putting them on YouTube just seems to work better in the winter.  It’s also a good time for buying and trying new tech.  I’m going to try and teach myself some Photoshop this year, so I can give you better images for this site.  This winter I’ll also have live streaming.  That will continue as long as necessary.  I look forward to it and so do the viewers.

I’ll try to focus on what I can do during the winter, and not what I can’t.  Not the traffic, not the wet, not the mess, not the inconvenience.  I will try.  I never believed in what Yoda said.  “Do.  Or do not.  There is no try.”  I understand the point of it — don’t let failure enter your mind, focus only on completing the task.  I just never bought into it.  I’ve given myself some goals, and I will try.

Maybe I can even use some of that negative stuff that I hate.  Do you want to see videos of driving around in the snow to the music of Max the Axe?  Do you want to see me attempt to live stream outdoors from a snowy porch?  It’s likely that both will happen!

There’s one last brick in this fortress of mental health that I am attempting to build that I have not mentioned.  And that is you.  For almost nine years you’ve been there waiting for the next chapter, review, or video.  You’ve shared your thoughts and ideas, and opened your hearts.  Without the loyal reader (or lately, viewer), I might have given up writing a long time ago and done something else.  I am grateful.  So thank you!

 

#860: We Stand Alone

This chapter is dedicated to Michael LeFevre

GETTING MORE TALE #860: We Stand Alone

On a recent road trip with Jen to the lake, I chose the music according to my recent modus operandi:  80s retro rock.  The stuff I used to listen to at the lake when I was 15 or 16 years old.  This time I decided on the Killer Dwarfs’ Big Deal album from 1988.  I didn’t get the cassette until the cottage season of ’89.  I have a lot of nostalgia for that year.  I turned 17, I had friends, and I even met a girl that liked me.  We held hands once!

The title Big Deal referred to the Dwarfs’ signing their big record deal with Epic.  This was their major label debut.  After two indies, they finally signed the “big deal”, and even made a music video lampooning the idea.  The album is a solidly hard rock album with a melodic side and a dash of dreams.  Big Deal‘s theme is dreaming, and making it come true.  Self determination.  It doesn’t sound like the band had to compromise too much in making the album. While a tad softer than the predecessor Stand Tall (1986), it sounds like a natural evolution from that point.  Better background vocals, cleaner production, and more considered arrangements.

Epic Records even funded a jokey video for “We Stand Alone”, though unusually dark.  It was very much a sequel to “Stand Tall (Stick To Your Guns)” from the prior album.  This time, the band sign to a label (in blood!) who forces them to change their image and name to the “Cuddly Dwarfs”.  They are forced to cut and style their hair.  They give it a go, but by the end Russ Dwarf breaks his puppeteer’s strings and re-emerges with wild hair, tricycle and goofy stage shenanigans.

As the album played in the car, my brain immediately began flashing back to those times (as has been routine lately). Like an old film projector, images appeared in my mind. I was sitting in the basement, hand on the remote control of the VCR, ready to hit “record” on the new Killer Dwarfs video. Bob Schipper may have been watching with me, or he may have come over later. Either way, we both enjoyed the song, which was their most melodic yet. I can remember my thoughts and feelings watching the video, which had a tenebrous edge. I seem to have a reaction to videos where people have goey stuff dumped on their heads, like in Gowan’s video for “A Criminal Mind”. Killer Dwarfs had similar imagery in “We Stand Alone”, when faceless record company suits issue new haircuts for the Dwarfs. As such I’ll always see the video, and thus hear the song, with a sense of…shadow.

As the Dwarfs themselves have said, the videos may have been comedies, but the music and lyrics have always been dead serious.  The album in general has a similar dark vibe for me. The records before and after were more aggressive, but Big Deal seems to have a different focus.  Songs like “Power”, “Lifetime” and “Tell Me Please” have a certain foreboding to them for me.  Others are different, like the accelerated “Burn It Down” which recalls the Dwarfs of old.  There are no real duds on the album, which is a workmanlike slab of granite to seek out if you like 80s metal or Canadian rock bands.

The Dwarfs did well enough but didn’t have a major breakthrough.  They were always respected, tending to get better album after album.  I read a few critiques of Russ Graham’s voice, calling it too nasal like fellow Canadian Geddy Lee.  If that’s a dealbreaker for you, it’s best to move on.  While Russ is more aggressive than Geddy, I do hear the resemblance they are referring to.  But don’t forget guitarist Mike Hall, who doesn’t get enough credit for his solo work and tasteful use of the whammy bar.  On drums, the Dwarfs boast the heavy hitting Darrell Dwarf (Millar), an animated character who provides the ever-important thump.  And of course Bad Ronbo Mayer on bass and backing vocals, keeping it together.

Peak Dwarfs for me was 1990’s Dirty Weapons, a seriously good heavy rock album with attitude and riffs.  I have a whole different set of memories of that album, but not as nostagic.  Dirty Weapons came at Childhood’s End, a period of rapid change.  There it remains emblazoned in that part of my memory forever.

#859: Big Water

GETTING MORE TALE #859: Big Water

When I was really small, just a toddler, I can remember having a couple names for this place:  “Big Water” and “Lake Water Stones”.  48 years ago was my first summer at Lake Water Stones, better known as Lake Huron.  Lorne Beach is the exact location.  These patches of land have been in my family for many decades.  The original cottage that Grampa Winter owned is still there, now occupied by Dr. Kathryn.  A lot has changed but not our family’s long roots in that dark sandy soil.

There were several times in my younger years when I didn’t want to be there.  In those foolish years I’d rather be here near the telephone line and creature comforts.  I can remember in the mid 80s at the cottage, my dad had to drive into town to make a phone call.  I had to tape all my precious wrestling matches at home and pray that they recorded.

Perspective changes and so does technology.  Now there’s no place I’d rather be than Lake Water Stones.

2018 changed everything for us.  That was the year Jen’s mom died.  Almost like the year without a summer.  We spent the whole season in hospital rooms and corridors, and hotels in Toronto.  After she passed we spent the whole fall cleaning out her house.  When we finally got back to the lake in spring 2019, we had learned to cherish and savour it more.

As if we needed a reminder how uncertain life can be, 2020 gave us a whole new perspective.  “Essential travel only.”  No road trips to cottage country.  They were wary of outsiders stealing their toilet paper, or spreading disease from the city.  As time wore on, we questioned whether we would be able to go at all.

I kept a positive attitude and I made the most of our time stuck at home.  I took advantage of my little patio, listening to tunes out there and doing several live streams in the fresh air.  Better than nothing.  A small patch of outdoors sure beats staying in all the time.  A little bit of blowing wind feels good on the skin.

Ontario was still on shaky ground and not yet in Phase 2 of re-opening when Jen and I finally returned to the lake at the end of May.  We missed the long weekend, usually a reliable starting point for a happy summer.  Instead we had a cold, dark weekend highlighted by the ominous “Premises Closed” signs posted at the beach entrance points.

I remember walking into the cottage and taking a breath of the woody smelling air.  You don’t notice it after 10 minutes, but it’s so strong at first sniff.  We were having a quiet weekend, no stops in town and we didn’t even tell anyone besides family that we were going.  Only when I tested the internet connection with a live stream was it obvious where we were.  Non-essential travel was frowned upon but I looked at this trip as essential to the mental health of two people who were quarantining pretty strictly.

Phase 2 began in early June and at that point we tried to make it up every other weekend, working around my parents’ schedule.  We wanted to maintain some distancing.  I had some goals I wanted to accomplish this summer.  Tossing out the planned accomplishments for Summer 2020, the new goals were attainable in an altered season.

  • I wanted to live stream outdoors from the lake — and we did this many times.
  • I wanted to eat steak every weekend we were there — and we did.
  • Swim as much as weather permitted — we did.
  • Mental health being the theme of 2020, I wanted to have a virtual counselling appointment from the porch.  I did two.  The setting was incredible.
  • Create as much photo and video content as I could to remember the place by in the winter.  Mission accomplished.

Setting realistic goals helped me make the most of this summer.  I feel more prepared for the fall.  And I’m really looking forward to 2021, when I might be able to add some more goals to the list.  (Still hoping to cook a wagyu steak on my own grill.)

Here’s gratitude for a great 2020 season regardless of the obstacles.  Hoping for better next year.

#858: School Days

GETTING MORE TALE #858: School Days

Did anybody really enjoy doing speeches in school?  I dreaded them year after year.  Pick a subject, write a speech, memorize it, time it right, and then it’s showtime.  My first speech was an award winner.  In was in grade three, and I wrote a speech about falling into the Athabasca glacier on my summer vacation.  It was a hit.  But that didn’t get me off the hook.  Year after year, you had to keep coming up with new speeches.

Grade five was Pac-Man, and it didn’t do as well.  Not that I minded.  I wanted to do just well enough, not so well that I had to do it again in a semi-finals.  I was obsessed with Pac-Man that year.  I truly had Pac-Man fever.  In my speech I discussed sequels like Ms. Pac-Man, and how the Atari 2600 version was such a disappointment.

In eighth grade I changed things up considerably and did my speech on Kiss.  I can tell you that the teacher Mrs. Powers visibly reacted every time I said the words Hotter Than Hell.  My speech was like a condensed version of Kisstory, a predecessor perhaps to what I like to do today.  It was actually really good although it was mostly off the cuff.  I knew I wasn’t going to get a good grade because of the subject matter, and I knew a speech about Kiss wasn’t going to make it to any kind of semi-finals, and I really knew they didn’t like the word “hell”.  Name dropping Mick Jagger didn’t help.  But it was really good, natural sounding and I only stumbled a couple of times.

The teachers didn’t really want you to do a speech about rock bands, but I was determined to express myself.  I didn’t want to spend five minutes talking about, I dunno, making steak sandwiches.  I could have whipped up an easy speech on Antarctic exploration or World War II, and gotten a better mark.  The more I look back, I guess I was a teeny tiny bit of a rebel.  But it was the teachers who gave me shit about my Judas Priest shirt that brought it on.

In grade nine I did my speech about Iron Maiden.  I should have diversified.  I could have spoken about nuclear power, Baron Von Richthofen, or Wrestlemania.  To my credit I was always good at telling a story, and I made them interesting.  I just tried to squeeze music into my schoolwork any chance I could.  If the jocks could do a speech about baseball, I should be able to do one about heavy metal.  I do remember one guy had a really well written comedic speech about a blind date.  If I knew fiction was a category I would have tried a hand at that!

In later years I did more expansive independent studies on other subjects, but still managed to work in music.  I did it for a sociology project and a few English ones.  And why not?  I couldn’t do that in algebra, physics, chemistry, or calculus.

These little acts of rock and roll rebellion didn’t get me an A, but I did well enough to be admitted to Wilfrid Laurier University in 1991.  So:  no regrets.  I can still write about Manfred von Richthofen if I want, and I’m fortunate enough that you would probably still read it.  I’ve written about history (tied into music) here a number of times.  I’m sure I’ll do it again.  And why not?  It’s easy to tie this stuff to music; Iced Earth have a song about Richthofen.  Queen have a song about Robert Falcon Scott.  Iron Maiden have songs about everything that ever happened.  The field is wide open.

 

#857: Obsessed With Rock

GETTING MORE TALE #857: Obsessed With Rock

As this summer flies by, I’m reminded of seasons past.  My dad always took the same vacations in the summer:  one week in July and two in August.  That means we’d be up at the cottage for that time, and I wanted to be well stocked with music.  Meaning, I had to bring all my music.  All my cassettes, all my vinyl.  Everything.

It was a process, to say the least.  All my tape cases had to be wedged between seats of the car, and I had “a few” tape cases.  Then I took apart my jury-rigged stereo setup and carefully prepared it for transportation.  I taped down the tone arm on the turntable so it wouldn’t fly about.  I packed up all my wires, head cleaners, and record brushes.  My ghetto blaster and record player were loaded onto a seat in the car, with my dad’s old 8-track deck/receiver at the bottom.  I was using it as a pre-amp for the turntable, and it worked after a fashion.

My treasured Kiss cassettes were not in a case.  They occupied a shelf in my bedroom, with two custom ceramic Kiss bookends.  I placed the bookends and tapes into a plastic grocery bag for transport.  Upon arrival at the lake, I set them all up on another shelf, always in chronological order.  It’s funny to think that I didn’t get an obsessive-compulsive disorder diagnosis until I was in my 40s.  I was pretty clearly already there in my early teens.

Once I got everything hooked up again at the cottage (stealing extension cords from other rooms), I’d begin blasting the rock.  With OCD firmly in control, I first had to finish listening to whatever tape was in my Walkman during the car trip.  Only then would I choose what I would be listening to that night.

It’s all very clearly obsessive behaviour, but I guess people were not as aware of various mental health issues back then in the 80s.

Then and now, I loved listening to music at the lake.  I liked to blast it, which sometimes earned a noise complaint from the parents.  They were pretty good about it though.  They indulged my musical obsession though never quite understanding it.  I only had one true love and it was rock and roll.

Something else I enjoyed very much was buying new music while on summer vacation at the lake.  There were not many stores that carried anything good.  Don’s Hi-Fi, and Stedman’s were all that was available when I was really young.  They sure didn’t have much.  Still, listening to Priest…Live! when it was brand new, and breaking the seal at the lake was special.  It’s hard to articulate exactly what was special about it.  Your normal listening space is a familiar place.  Most things you hear, you first played in your own home.  When you get to experience an album on less familiar territory for the first few times, it develops a different flavour.  It’s not something you can hear, it’s just something you can feel.  I guess that’s why I always see myself playing darts in the back yard at the lake every time I hear Priest…Live!

Perhaps that is a feeling only a music obsessive gets.

When we returned from vacation, it felt like I would be welcoming my new albums into their new home.  This is where you live now, Priest.  This is where I am going to be experiencing you from now on.

Weird, right?

I never claimed to be normal.  Quite the opposite, in fact.  I’ve often boasted of not just “liking” music, but actually “loving” it deeply.  Maybe the only thing I’m actually boasting about is mental illness!

Whatever.  These are all good memories.  Although I speak fondly of it today, as a kid I would have chosen to stay home if I was old enough.  I missed being away from my friends, my rock magazines, my Pepsi Power Hour and all that stuff.  I missed talking about and listening to music with my best friend Bob.  Truth told, by packing up all music with me and hauling it up to the lake, I was trying to retain one aspect of being at home, which is my music collection.  Today the obsession remains, but I can do the same job with a laptop.  Crazy!  I never would have imagined that as a kid.

There are worse things to be hooked on other than rock and roll.  If it makes you feel so good, can it be so bad?

 

 

 

#856: Why Metal?

GETTING MORE TALE #856: Why Metal?

As you’re aware, I’ve been doing a lot of introspection lately.  I hope you don’t mind.  A lot of my reflection has been to my distant past.  As I look back, I am reminded how music was always there in my life.  One of my first truly beloved records was the original soundtrack to The Empire Strikes Back.  The bombast, drama and power of those pieces really appealed to me.  It’s safe to say that I discovered music through Star Wars and John Williams.  Until they came along, music was just something that was around me.  It wasn’t inside me until Star Wars.

They stopped making Star Wars movies (or did they…?) in 1983, coincidentally the same year that Quiet Riot released Metal Health, and Styx came out with “Mr. Roboto”.  I simply jumped from one train to the other!  They were both going in the same direction so it wasn’t much of a leap.  Rock music was very much about bombast, drama and power.  And it stuck with me, bonded at a molecular level.

But why metal?  There were other trains I could have boarded.  At school, every other kid was into Duran Duran.  I couldn’t have given a crap about Duran Duran, even if they were in a James Bond movie!  So why metal?

The first factor to examine would be peer groups.  Essentially, I had two:  the school kids and the neighbourhood kids.  The school kids were, frankly, assholes.  But none of them lived in my neighbourhood.  It was like growing up in two separate worlds.  My classmates weren’t near me and I was fine with that.  Every time I came home, it was like I had entered a safe zone.  The older kids in my neighbourhood were legends.  Bob Schipper, Rob Szabo, and George Balasz.  They were the ones I looked up to and they were all rocking the metal.  Szabo’s favourite bands?  Motley Crue and Stryper.  Balasz liked Kiss.  Schipper was into Iron Maiden.

We would gather on front stoops with boomboxes powered by D-cell batteries.  Van Halen cassettes would be passed around like a joint.  I heard Maiden Japan by Iron Maiden on my front patio for the first time because George brought it over.  The guys were eager to educate me.  Quiet Riot, Helix, Judas Priest, W.A.S.P., Black Sabbath were names I was trying to memorize.  I had a few things mixed up though.  I thought the song “Sister Christian” by was Motorhead, because when they sing “Motorin’!” I heard “Motorhead”.  So sure.

On the other hand, the peer group at school was mostly what we called “wavers”.  They liked Mr. Mister and Michael Jackson and whatever else, I simply wanted nothing to do with it.  At an instinctive level, I think these people repulsed me.  I had witnessed and been victim to their cruelty.  I wanted nothing to do with their music or their sports and I think that was largely unconscious.  I would have loved if they liked me instead of mocking me; it would have made life easier.  Obviously I had given up trying.  So why not?  Heavy metal music was like Musica proibita in Catholic school.  There were a few headbangers — I didn’t like them either — but just a few.  Those guys thought it was hilarious that I was still into Quiet Riot in 1985 when they had moved onto Van Halen.  They would challenge me to “name three songs by Helix” to see if they could trip me up.  That was the difference between the rock guys at school, and my friends at home.  The guys at home would have just taught me what songs were by Helix.

Fucking school assholes.

An other notable factor on the road to heavy metal that has to be mentioned is the one nobody wants to talk about:  puberty!  But it is true that the bands I was discovering were (mostly) masculine manly men, and soon I would be wanting to attract a mate like they taught us in sex ed class.  To exude masculinity, I chose metal.  I am certain that was a conscious decision.  Despite the long hair, the guy in Iron Maiden was clearly a tougher dude than the guy in Duran Duran.  If there was going to be a fistfight, I wanted to be on the Maiden guy’s side.  Easy choice.  It seemed that simple in grade seven.

Of course, heavy metal music had the opposite effect in trying to attract girls.  It absolutely repelled them, every single one of them.  The fact that I just went double-down on the metal showed that my love for the music was genuine.  Girls didn’t like metal, but I did, and I was already too committed to discovering all the bands I could.  I was living in the rabbit hole.

A gleaming, riveted stainless steel rabbit hole.  With a million watt stereo system.

Parental approval?  Not really.  Though they liked Bob Schipper, they didn’t know what to make of this metal music.  They tolerated it, and never gave me a hard time about any of the bands I liked.  They probably would have preferred Springsteen like the family across the street listened to.  But hey, they bought me the tapes I wanted for Christmas, and they let me tape the videos on TV, so a big applause to my parents.  I think my dad was worried that I was becoming such an introvert.  I remember him telling me “Garnet Lasby doesn’t sit in his room listening to tapes all day.”

When he said that, all I could hear in my head were the Kiss lyrics, “Get me out of this rock and roll hell, take me far away.”  I was so confused.  I loved listening to music in my room.  The only thing better was listening to music with my friends.  Was it bad?  I really thought about it, but obviously decided to follow my heart.

One more factor in my journey to metal that is easily overlooked but must be accounted for:  the fact that rock and roll is one big soap opera with enough drama, violence and musical brilliance to fill an entire Star Wars trilogy.  As my friends taught me the songs, they also introduced me to the stories.  “This is Randy Rhoads.  He was the greatest until he died in a plane crash.”  And Kiss?  Woah nelly, there was every kind of story within Kisstory!  How many guitar players?  And crazy costumes and characters to go with the story?  Buying a Kiss album was never just “buying a Kiss album”.  It was always buying a issue of a comic book.  What would Kiss sound like this time?  What seedy subjects would they be wrestling with on a lyrical level?  What would the cover look like and what colour would the logo be?

It seems obvious now, but the only way for me to go was metal.  In every single alternate universe, I am a metal fan.

Music allowed me to rewrite my persona a bit.  I hoped that, instead of that nerdy kid with the Star Wars fetish, I would be remembered as the nerdy kid that was really into music.  (Music that is still popular today, incidentally.)  Why metal?  Because it really only could have been metal.

 

#855: Some Of My Favourite Fest Intros (and One Outro) 2020

As always, I was asked to introduce songs at this year’s Sausagefest.  I’d like to share some of them with you so you can get a taste of what I do for the Fest.

These four are only some of my favourites this year.  I did 10 intros altogether and the longest was about nine minutes.  That’s my actual favourite, but it was less about the track intro, and more about inside jokes that mean nothing to you.  I also did a well-received Neil Peart tribute as part of my “Passage to Bankok” intro but you can just read it here as it was previously posted in its original text form.

 

Below is a medley of four intros and one outro.  Some notes before you proceed:

  • Because it’s 2020 and why the fuck not, I understand they did the countdown in reverse order this year.  Starting at #1 going down to #100.  I didn’t know that when I recorded these.
  • I like to lift bits from cartoons like Rick & Morty and American Dad.  You will hear some.  These are not my original bits, just funny things that work as transitions from whatever Tom & Meat had going on before me.
  • Afroman has been a point of contention. I do not believe Afroman has a place at Sausagefest but they vote it in every year and then make me introduce it.  This year I fought back by putting in 0% effort.  (50 second mark)
  • Better than the Afroman intro was the outro which you will also hear.  I “interviewed” Werner Herzog about Sausagefest and people that vote for Afroman. (2 minute 15 second mark)
  • The Herzog bit was probably the most complex to edit.  I downloaded random Werner interviews and found a perfect part where he was talking about chickens.
  • Getting Darth Vader on Cameo was a real stroke of luck! (3 minute 45 second mark)

 

* I had to surgically create the word “one” out of the word “chicken” in order for it to make sense.  Now you’ll notice but before you wouldn’t.

#854: Mushy

GETTING MORE TALE #854: Mushy

15 years seems like a long time even though it’s really just a blink of an eye.  My life changed forever 15 years ago.  That’s when I met Jen.  A big gaping hole in my heart was filled forever that day.  There was never really a question that she was the “right” one for me.   She always knew.

She had my back from the start and helped give me the confidence that I needed to finally quit the Record Store.  Since 2000, the environment there had become extremely toxic and I needed to get out for my own health.  If she didn’t have my back, I wouldn’t have left and my sanity would have been frayed.

This extra-mushy post has been brought to you by love.

Our first few years together were filled with dreams.  We talked about what we wanted to do for our wedding and what we were going to name our kids.*

Then she got sick.  That put the brakes on some of our plans.  Her doctor wanted us to wait to have kids.  When her health got under control, we thought, we could have as many as we wanted.  Two seemed like a great number.  A boy and a girl.  I really wanted a baby girl.  As time went on we realized it was never going to happen.

“Why don’t you just adopt?” asked people who didn’t know our situation.  Adoption stopped being possible when her health got worse.  The reality was we needed someone to babysit her, not someone for us to babysit.  It has been a tough reality but I’ve never regretted any of it.  I’d rather live with just the two of us, than have kids with somebody else.  If this is what our lives were meant to be, then so be it.

After we got married and settled in, we had to deal with loss after loss after loss.  We still paid off the condo, and just rolled with everything that life threw at us.  Every time one of us feels like giving up, the other one says “no way”.  We’ve come too far to throw in the towel now.  The things we’ve endured together would slay lesser mortals.  Sometimes at night, I’ll just lie there thinking about how lucky I am.

We keep on keepin’ on.  Because of her, love songs are sweeter and breakup songs don’t sting like they used to.  We live quiet lives now but I’m never, ever bored.  She gives me the time, space and inspiration to keep on writing.  In exchange she can watch all the sports she wants!  It’s a pretty sweet deal and I’ll never take for granted what a lucky bastard I am.

 

* She has never approved of my choice, Spencer Peter Oscar Carl Kevin.  Spell out the initials.