Friend of all the World

Dear Social Media,

It’s been some time. Everything is out of date. We’ve ignored you social media. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, I hate you social media. Can I say that? Isn’t that anathema to the modern indie band?

Well damnit, we ain’t much of a modern indie band. I mean, to be a modern indie band, you generally need to live in the same city as your bandmates (or at least country). You need to play shows. You need to drive across the country in a van and shotgun cans in the back of the van and smoke weed in the front of the van with the windows rolled up and the fan off and fall into and out of love (either inside or outside of the van) and use all of that as fodder for great music.

OK, so we’re not a band. And we (I) hate social media. Though I think Céline likes it and Louis has lasers shooting out of his eyes. But that’s personal stuff like loaves of sourdough bread we just baked, ski vacation snaps and the like. Not serious band stuff. But then, like I said, we’re not a serious band.

But we still make music.

Yeah that’s right social media, we still make music. TAKE THAT social media (and fuck you). Yep, we done made some music last fall and we mixed the music this spring and we’re mastering the music RIGHT FUCKING NOW.

OK, not right now. I’m actually supposed to bed going to be RIGHT FUCKING NOW. Instead I’m writing this post on social media about hating social media and not being a band but making music just the same.

Oh man, is that Freshtone on the picture over there? No up.. on the right.. yeah there. Shit, there have been changes. Social media, I’m sorry. We’ve been distant. So many changes.. Where to start?

New album coming soon EPs/LPs/UFOs/BVDs.

Check this space.

Love

FOATW

ps: does anyone make ASCII art anymore?

It has been a week.

After wrapping up an (always intense) 3-day retreat en huis clos in a country house south of Drummondville, packing up our small recording studio and driving the two hours back to Montreal, I picked up my wife, old college flatmate Tim, a couple of beer and drove to Ottawa to meet another dear old friend Dan, freshly flown in from Fredericton. Whereupon we drank as much of said beer as possible before heading to the Buzz-kill centre in beautiful Kanata Ontario to see the penultimate show on the Tragically Hip’s Man Machine Poem tour (and possibly penultimate show ever).

Then, hung over and underslept, we drove the same in reverse, picking up kids on the way and back to the country to catch last night’s ultimate show on the tour as broadcast nationwide by our sainted public broadcaster the CBC. So lots of music, little sleep, lots of emotion and too much beer. Today I am picking up the pieces, listening through the 2+ hours of music we recorded during the retreat last week and reflecting on all things Traj and Gord.

So here is the thing, I am a massive Gord Downie fan. While my bandmates acknowledge my man-crush, they don’t really care for the music. We’re a Quebec band, remember and Quebeckers associate Gord and the Traj with RA RA CANADA jock culture. And hell, I can’t blame ‘em. It’s a steep price of entry for any hard core anti-nationalist, anti-popular-movement-of-any-sort type of person (four of which reside in this band).

But for me, it’s not about Canada or nostalgia for the halcyon years of high-school/university that keeps me riveted. My love of Gord is for a man on the move, a man at 52 who is still challenging himself to write better music (and Man Machine Poem is a hell of an album, seriously, go pick it up). The man has put out a record (either solo or with band) at a minimum every two years for over 25 years and his output spans a pretty wide rang of genres while always staying true to his unique voice.

And his writing keeps getting better

For a bunch of 40 somethings (well I’m 39) pushing ourselves to make music despite total lack of fame or fortune while courting a slow erosion of our respective marital relationships, the man is a fucking inspiration.

So when I went to see the show in Ottawa, it wasn’t to see them play Blow out the High Dough for the nth time. I wanted to see the new shit, I wanted to see a band charged up about the here and now and where they’re at. But in Kanata, we ran into a wall of RA RA CANADA jock culture (along with a wall of cars on the 417). Seems that 90% of the people I talked to had lost contact with the band and the man 20 years ago.

So I ask them: why the fuck do they go see the show, to suffer through all the “new shit” so the can hear yer favourites? And why, if they purport to love Gord Downie so much, do they insist on keeping him trapped in a time prison?

Alas few answers were given and I don’t think I made many new friends in Ottawa.

If YOU want to see a band in their prime, check out “Machine” from CBC’s broadcast Saurday night (can’t find a link). I’m going to bed.

Friends, fine-fellows, festival followers, fans of the food-truck, we appeal to your better natures in the spirit of the shining sun, glistening water and endless summer days of great outdoor music! Yep, we’s gonna be playin’ the Montreal Folk on the Canal Festival this weekend on June 18 at 3:30 PM. Bring the family, bring your bike, bring your grandma!

THE EVENT