So I Saw Mogwai Last Night...

Mogwai, the famed Scottish instrumental post-rock band, played the Commodore Ballroom last night. I attended with a couple of friends, one of whom I had never expected to share an experience like that. He had only heard a few Mogwai songs before, but seemed to enjoy the concert pretty enough to take a closer listen.

Random cautionary note: the Urban Fare location on Alberni doesn't take paper gift certificates, even if they seem legit and should apply to any location. The story of how I know this is pretty boring. Just take my word for it.

Sorry, back to the concert. It was hardly a packed house. Where for bands with a bigger local following, such as Mother Mother, the lineup outside would be wrap around the corner to Smithe Street a half hour before the doors open, my friends and I showed up 8pm on the dot to find a line that barely got to Megabite. I guess the post-rock zeitgeist did't really take here on the west coast, so the only people who showed were the few, scattered Mogwai fans from the area.

The opening band never really introduced themselves, which was unfortunate because I kinda liked them. I guess you could call it very poppy, song-driven noise-rock. I suspect they're local. They had that "Vancouver hipster" vibe to them. The singing was pretty good, they had some sweet male harmonies. As an act, though, the sheer amount of sound turned the whole thing into mud at a lot of points. Mogwai obviously does that, too, but they seem to put more purpose behind it - it's part of the experience. This band didn't exercise that same prudence, so it sort of seemed like filler. They honestly didn't play that many songs. In particular, the guitars were really, really bassy and drenched in delay-based effects, so it was impossible to hear what they were doing most of the time. Still, I wish I'd found out who they were because I'd love to hear what they sound like on a record.

I've become very conscious of personalities these days, so as I watched Mogwai come up I tried to read their vibes a bit. This is clearly a very introverted band. Guitarist Stuart Braithwaite likes to move to the beat a lot, and is the only one who ever speaks to the audience, mostly just to thank them for their applause and appreciation. He struck me as rather shy but sweet, like he really enjoyed playing music, and really appreciated the people who showed up. I've seen some stoic bassists, but man, Dominic Aitchison takes the cake. Multi-instrumentalist Barry Burns reeks of calm coolness. He just really knows what he's doing, whether on keyboards and Vocoder, guitar, or bass. Guitarist John Cummings was obscured to me by the fans in front of me, so I didn't read much there. Drummer Martin Bulloch wasn't particularly visible, but he seemed to be having  fun.

This is not music for the impatient, but if you stay open and listen right, the songs don't drag. As a listener, I almost don't even think of them as "songs." If I may get a little mushy for a moment, I think of them as musical moments that last six minutes. It's as if the music itself isn't even the main point, but a way to experience something... other. It's actually very spiritual.

The biggest moment of the night for me was the song, "Rano Pano," off last year's, "Hardcore Will Never Die, But You Will." Musically speaking, it's pretty brilliant. It has easily one of their most memorable melodies, and it builds to such huge point. There's a lot of tension and release throughout the song, which is kind of Mogwai's thing. It's my new favorite track from them.

My only disappointment was that they didn't play, "Hunted By A Freak." This is the band I wanted most to see live in my lifetime, and I want to see them again, and again, and again.

My Identity in Punk

This post was on my old blog, under the title, "A (Very) Short History of Punk, and The Beginnings of a Statement of Vision." I'm re-posting it (with some slight editing) for several reasons: 1) it serves as an appropriate preface to another post I'm working on; 2) I already wrote it; 3) I really don't want you to read my old blog. It sucked.

There’s a real risk of my losing focus, motivation, and any hope of a dedicated audience if I just fly by the seat of my pants here. Before I say too many things I know I’ll regret, I want to define my vision for this blog, in order that the things I say here will serve some kind of purpose. So I’ll talk about identity a bit. Probably a lot more of this will come out as I keep writing, but this is a good place to start, as it’s kind of core to the way I think.

I am a person who is very interested in the idea of subculture. One of the best and most obvious examples of subculture in Western society is punk rock. Unfortunately, the term "punk rock" has not aged well, and its meaning has fallen into ambiguity, though arguably it was pretty convoluted to begin with.

To me, the most essential aspect of punk is finding strength and identity in alienation. In a lot of cases that can be a very destructive kind of strength, and a volatile kind of identity. It's actually kind of amazing that punk is still exists in any form at all, considering how much it's suffered throughout the past several decades. The original boom lasted only a few short years. Regional scenes and splinter movements have developed and fallen apart. Many artists have quit, died, or sold out. Mainstream capitalist culture has taken every opportunity to cash in on its popularity, each time taking more than the movement could give. The words, “Punk rock is dead,” and, “Punk rock is still alive,” have been uttered too many times to count.

I am of the opinion that, despite it all, punk lives on to this day. Probably not in the way that the Ramones or the Sex Pistols might have guessed… but then they were insane. I doubt if they really understood what they were doing or what it would mean decades later.

How did it manage to survive, mangled and disfigured (or perhaps transfigured) as it is? It goes back to the “spirit” of punk rock. This was something that people in the post-punk and early hardcore era seem to have understood well. They were still who they were: angry middle-class intellectuals and anti-intellectuals, postmodernists through-and-through, snot-nosed kids with something to say. The scene that had embraced and inspired them had gone out in flames, but they kept going because punk was not just their scene. It was their identity.

And it's part of mine, as well. It resonates with me on a number of levels: the community of outcasts; the angry kids with guitars screaming about whatever; the spiky-haired prophets out to change the world.
I don't literally consider myself a punk, or a geek, or a metalhead, or really anything. Any time I get really close to any one particular subculture, I discover something really ugly about it that sends me running. But they all still have their place in my heart. Punk rock in particular is something of a symbol for me, and for a dream I have.

Basically, I want to change the world.

Threenie Tuesday Movie Review: The Dictator

Time for another Threenie Tuesday movie review! Unfortunately I got caught up doing other things yesterday afternoon and didn't get to the theater in time to catch a 7-ish showing, so only one this week.

I caught the new Sacha Baron Cohen film, The Dictator. I've not seen any of his previous films, though I have watched a bit of Da Ali G Show, so I kinda-sorta knew what to expect. Most people will remember the hype surrounding Borat, and a little bit with Bruno and Ali G Indahouse. Shock value can be a powerful thing if you're trying to get people attention or make a statement, but its effectiveness depends on people's sensitivity to it.

By now it seems that most people are somewhat at peace with Sacha Baron Cohen's own brand of offensiveness. Either they've become desensitized or don't care anymore, which seems to be happening a lot to entertainers these days. For example, did you know Marilyn Manson put out a new album this month? Didn't think so. People found out that he's not really as scary as he seem onstage or in his music videos. Actually, he comes across as a pretty nice, humble guy in interviews. All the controversy and mystique just sort of dissipated over the past decade. (Of course in Manson's case, there's also the fact that his fans all graduated high school and moved on with their lives.)

In order to properly critique The Dictator, we need some way to evaluate all the supposedly shocking content. The cast of It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia have stated that they let humor be their guide in deciding whether a bit is too far or not: it all comes down to, "Is it funny?" It's not the most objective consistent criterion I've heard (I'll talk about that some other time), but it's good enough for now I guess.

So, is The Dictator funny? Sometimes. Admiral General Aladeen, Baron Cohen's principal character, is a rather ridiculous (what else) caricature of the Middle Eastern war criminal. He's crude, selfish, narcissistic, and most of all, bigoted, which is the main characteristic from which the humor is drawn. This is Baron Cohen's strategy: heinously racist, sexist, and otherwise politically incorrect comments are spouted at audience stand-in characters by some inane bastard whom nobody could ever take seriously.

It's so bizarre, yet it sort of works. I didn't catch myself getting personally offended by anything said or done. The only time it came anywhere close was when Aladeen made a comment about Filipinos, but the joke was too moronic to mean anything to me.

One of the most disappointing elements of this film was the amount of body humor it used. Not sexual humor (actually some of that was kind of funny), but honest-to-goodness pee and poop gags. These can be incredibly funny in the right context, but in this case it was just crude and predictable.

In general, there were very few surprises in the movie. The plot (not that it mattered) was stock Adam Sandler fare, the characters (not that they mattered other than Aladeen and the one girl) were irrelevant, and the political commentary (which was the best hope for this film to be anything but a juvenile gross-out flick) was no more insightful than anything you can find on a 14-year-old's Facebook page. I found this to be rather disappointing since Da Ali G Show makes me cringe with anticipation, pity the guests, and generally just laugh my ass off. Baron Cohen can be the epitome of facetiousness when he wants to be, and I can respect that. I caught glimpses of that in The Dictator, but for the most part it's pretty dumbed-down.

I plan to watch Borat in the next week in order to form a more contextualized opinion. However, I believe that a work should stand on its own, unless the necessary background is clearly identified (take the Family Guy Star Wars episodes, for instance). In that respect, I cannot recommend The Dictator. If you just want to be entertained... I don't know, watch cat videos at home or something.

6.7/10

Russian Circles & A Short Reflection on Genre

Here's a concert I'm pretty excited to attend: Russian Circles & And So I Watch You From Afar, June 22 2012 @ Biltmore Cabaret, Vancouver. Russian Circles is an instrumental rock band I've liked for a few years now, and this is the first chance I've had to hear them live.



And So I Watch You From Afar (yes, that's the band's name) is a Belfast-based band also set to play that night. I'd never heard of them until I caught wind of the concert, but I checked them out, and I'm even more excited to go. This is the kind of music I want to make. Take a listen.



I read someone describe ASIWYFA as a "mathematically influenced punk" band. I suppose that's accurate, but the purpose of the comment was to point out that they're not a post-rock band. This is just silly to me. I honestly don't understand all the backlash against the term, "post-rock," or most genres for that matter. Remember all the bands that refused to be known as "emo" in the early- to mid-2000's? The same happened with "nu-metal" in the late 90's, and "grunge" in the mid-90's. You'll often notice artists, especially ones from alternative scenes, get really touchy when people talk about the genre of their work. (Just so we're clear, I'm not specifically talking about ASIWYFA.)

The thing is though, that these terms are not value judgements. Not originally, anyway. Genres are the territory of journalists and critics. They're descriptive terms invented to explain what a work (in this case, music) is like. Genre talks about the structure, style, and often the cultural context of the work. It's more for the benefit of the listener than for the artist, meant to set up appropriate expectations about how to listen to the music, not to put it in a box.

Many artists have a rather cynical outlook on genre. I've heard some dismiss it as an outdated system created by music shops to figure out how to stick which records where. [I'll leave the dirty jokes to you guys.] Others blame it more on music journalists, those guys who clearly don't understand music at all since they have to steal its soul by writing about it. It's an us-against-them mentality, and it may show my ignorance or naivete to say this, but my guess is that it's unnecessary for artists to be antagonistic about this. Other music business drama notwithstanding.

Personally, I find genre categorization fascinating, as a thinker, musician, and music lover. Genre is a critical thinking and listening tool, and this is what artists miss. Perhaps rather than fearing genre, they could study it and use it to their advantage. Categories and limitations are great creative tools. They eliminate the paralysis of the blank canvas, providing a place to start making art. At the same time, one doesn't need to be a slave to genre. If you know what the rules are, you also know exactly how far you can bend them.

So I guess what I'm saying is this: if the shoe fits, wear it. It not...

Become a cobbler? Or at least learn more about shoes.

Meshuggah, May 8, 2012 @ Commodore Ballroom - Concert Review

A week ago I went to see Meshuggah play the Commodore Ballroom in Vancouver. I've been a fan of theirs for a few years now, but I'd never been to one of their shows.

For those of you who aren't familiar with Meshuggah, they are a Swedish heavy metal band. They've been around since the Late Eighties, but they didn't start to get big until about a decade later. Throughout their career, they've carved out a very unique sound and reputation. They are known as one of the heaviest bands in the world, but not in the sense that one might expect. Their sound would not be accurately described as "death metal." There are no blast beats, no growled vocals, and their lyrical content is not particularly preoccupied with death, though it is dark to be sure.

There are several elements of their music which really stand out and define Meshuggah's unique place in the world of metal. The best-known, most talked-about element is their polyrhythmic guitar riffs. They've said in interviews that they only ever play in 4-4 time, but the guitar parts are written in weird meters apart from the drum beat, lending the songs a highly complex rhythmic feel. What is really remarkable about this approach is that they do not let it hinder their musicality. Though it is challenging to listen to at first, the music grooves along very well, and once you listen to it for a while, you learn when to bang your head along to it. Generally, you just follow the crash cymbal.

Marten Hagstrom and Fredrik Thorendal, the two guitarists in the band, have chosen their guitars and amp setups for maximum efficiency and destructive power. They play custom Ibanez 8-string guitars, which are constructed more like short-scale (30.5") basses, Lundgren pickups, and Line 6 amps. The resulting sound is sharp, tight, percussive, and cold. It's machine-like, really. It's like a mechanical device designed to generate to most powerful metal guitar tone ever heard.

Jens Kidman's vocals are also quite different from the droves of growlers and screamers on the scene right now. Instead of a devilish, death-metal style, his vocals, like the guitars, sound almost mechanical. "Robotic" is a term I've heard used to describe it, which I think is accurate. He paces himself rhythmically, just like the rest of the band.

The Intro Post

Where to begin...? I guess I can start with some thoughts on identity. Normal people call this an "introduction." This blog will be a little bit different, though, so it's very important for you who are reading this understand where I'm coming from.

My name is Ryan. I identify myself as "male." More on that later.

I consider myself a religious person. I know some people tend to view that term with some distaste, but it's taken on new meaning for me in the past year, and it's begun to shape my thinking and my identity. I'm an artist, as well: I've been playing guitar for about ten years now, and drawing cartoons for basically my whole life. My major right now in college is "Worship Arts," which is the perfect blend of theology, ministry training, and aesthetics.

One of the primary motivations for blogging is that when it comes to things that I'm passionate about, I have too many thoughts to possibly bring up. The best example of this is music. If I am asked what kind of music I like, all I can do is list the handful of bands that I'm listening to at the time. There are patterns in my taste: I am very much drawn to most things that came from punk rock. At the same time, for nearly every band (maybe every album, even) there is a story behind why I bothered to give them a try, and why I bother to continue. In fact, there's some kind of story for a lot of my life. I hope to share some of those stories with you.

I should note that this (blogging, that is) is a pretty new thing for me. I suppose, like a lot of other people, I've started a bunch of blogs before and virtually abandoned them a few days later. I'd never had a vision for blogging. I don't even know why I bothered to start them. This time it's a bit different. I've learned about myself and what I'm good at, and I've spent a lot of time developing my voice in how I write. For the purpose of this blog, I will apply an analytical approach to my boring life, my art, my church life, and my relationships, in the hope that something I discover will mean something for someone else.

A note about my writing voice. This is pretty apparent to most people who meet me, but I tend to have an at least half-serious demeanor. In social settings, I tend to use sarcasm as a way of expressing exactly what I mean, but in a way that, in all likelihood, will fly over the heads of my audience. In a sense, it's a test: I give my meaning in a somewhat cryptic way, wanting only those who are really interested to find out what I mean.

That's sort of what I'm doing with you, my new readers. I thought I'd at least be nice enough to let you know, and invite you to try to unravel what I'm saying. Please don't mistake this for contempt, though. I'm kind of a weird and complex person. I realize that I can be infuriating at times. I swear, it's not you. It's me.

There will no doubt be tons of themes throughout the life of this blog (assuming I keep up with posting), and they'll probably change as time goes on, as I gain more knowledge and life experience, and as I keep writing and (hopefully) interacting with my audience. However, the themes I'm exploring right now include identity within various contexts, shifts in life and culture due to the rise of technology, ritual and tradition in religious practices, and integration of religion into daily life.

I don't pretend to lead a particularly interesting life. For the purposes of this blog, though, I really don't think I need to. The sick, scary wonders of suburban Canada provide enough material for a lifetime of reflection and analysis. So strap in. It's going to be a long, bumpy, uncomfortable ride to nowhere.

This is gonna be fun on the bun.