Recalling the Recall

Wow, what a show!  Total Recall 2017

We played around 35 of my favourite songs from the 80s, and raised a good chunk of change for Ovarian Cancer Canada.

Lots of great musicians, and there were a lot of great moments.  “Copperhead Road” with Brad Searl, “Let’s Dance” with Tommy Blacknine, and getting to pound out that amazing “Under Pressure” bass riff while Tommy Blacknine and Darren James Smith covered the Bowie/Mercury vocals…  Of course I couldn’t help but do that ‘Billy Idol snarl’ as we burned through “Rebel Yell.”

Lots of rehearsals, I lost most of August learning all those tracks, but I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.  I hope I held down the groove well enough to be invited back next time. 

The house band, Karl Anderson (drums), John Jamieson (keys), Aimee O’Connor (guitar), Stephen Varga (guitar), Shaylynn Anderson (sax), and Eric Meloche (stage tech), did a fantastic job.  A dream band for sure!

The Exorcism of Matthew

An acquaintance called me ‘Matthew’ the other day. It made me realize that it’s been exactly 30 years since I started calling myself ‘Matt’. 

 And 1987 hit me hard. In that year I recognized the fallacy of religion, first felt the bullying of authority figures (CDCI West administration), stopped giving a damn about impressing others, and felt the confidence of believing in my own opinions. It’s also the year I stopped writing ‘hew’ at the end of my name because it was 3 letters too many.

As importantly, 1987 was the year that I discovered The Rolling Stones (Paint It Black) and David Bowie (Rebel Rebel).  Keith Richards inspired me to play the guitar, Bowie inspired me to actually PRESENT myself in a somewhat (misguided at times) stylish manner.  This musical wake-up shouldn’t be dismissed.  These musicians inspired me to write my own music, to give a voice to my inner demon, and to perform.  It also connected me to other local musicians, which has given me 30 years of incredible friendship, comfort, entertainment, support, and drama.  In other words, A LIFE!

“Sweet little Matthew” was abducted by reality, and replaced with “Matt.” And damn, it happened quickly!  And I couldn’t be more thankful that it did.

Thankful For Tape Oxidization

Working on the new album last night, I was revelling in the way Little Rose Tattoo has turned out.  It’s been a long time in the making – I wrote the song in 2000 while apprenticing as a tattooist.  But it never felt “right” until now.  Some songs just need to mature to hit their stride, I guess.

It got me thinking of my history with songs.  In particular, the first one that I wrote.  “Unknown Desire” was a disgustingly saccharine ballad that I wrote when I was 15.  Predictably, it was about I girl that I was too shy to approach.  I don’t remember which one, there were so many back then.

Thankfully, I don’t remember the lyrics.  Unfortunately, I recorded my feeble attempt at rock stardom.  One take, me mumbling the song as I strummed away into a cassette recorder.  I gave it to a friend’s girlfriend as a birthday gift (my first groupie), and a few years later she played it back for me. 

I’m glad I wrote it – every attempt improves your craft.  And I learned from the experience (never give sexy gifts to friends’ girlfriends).

Of all the songs I’ve written, and there are hundreds, Unknown Desire is the one that I’m glad will never be heard again.  As long as that damned cassette tape has oxidized by now…

Watch The Blood Run

This song deals with the troubles I had as a teenager living in a small town.
With the frustration of not feeling "at home," and with no clue on how to obtain a sense of belonging, I would often cut myself.  My left arm, shoulder, and hand are covered in the scars left behind.  I started getting tattoos, and these helped to keep me from cutting as I didn't want to ruin the inked designs that took their place.  Surprising, but it worked.
Cutting was a way to release the frustration and pressure - perhaps it was the adrenaline rush that came with the pain, maybe it was self-punishment for not being able to fit into society like we're "supposed to."  Or maybe it was just the increased stimulation that was intellectually lacking in such a lonely place?  Who knows...

Almost 20 years later, I was sitting in my studio strumming the acoustic guitar part for what would become "Watch The Blood Run."  The first lyric came from nowhere:  "Every time I think of you I find myself just sitting in the dark."  That line brought back memories of a time when I was caught cutting, when my girlfriend walked in on me.  Sitting alone in my darkened bedroom, she initially thought she'd walked in on something else...  haha, nope.  I was digging a sewing needle into my arm and excavating a deep groove.  The rest of the lyrics came quickly, and I was finally able to express what was going on in my head while I cut.
The rest of the song came very quickly, surprisingly including the harmonica melody.  I think it was the first thing I wrote on that instrument, and I can still only play my own songs on it.  I've never learned to actually perform anything but this and "Your Heart And Mine" on a harmonica.

When I mixed the song, I realized the guitar-and-drum-based song needed more.  I asked John (the mixing engineer) to add some keyboards to it.  He created a fantastic, 70s-inspired organ piece.  In turn, that lead to my writing another guitar part in the 5 minutes that John laid down the keys.  Then I asked him to play the new piece on an electric piano.  The song now had a very different feel to what I had originally intended.  Now it needed a tambourine loudly bashing through the song!  Scope Creep ensued...  Finally we had finished it and listened to the mix.  It was done.  Or so we thought.  About to it save, I interrupted with "um, I might have an idea.  I'm not really liking the start.  What if we copy the heavy guitar and drums, and paste them as a 4-bar lead-in to the song?"  We tried it, copy/pasted the bass guitar as well, and ended up with the huge introduction that you now hear.  God I love the rearrangment capabilities of computer-based recording.

And that was how Watch The Blood Run came to be.  And personally it means a lot to have finally been able to express what I was dealing with so long ago.

Post-Graffiti's

Thanks to everyone that came to see The Boys From County Hell yesterday!

We had a great time, and it seemed that most of you did too.  I got to meet a few new people, and I really hope to see them all again soon.

To those that weren't there:  You really missed out.  It might have been our best show yet, everything gelled and we were in sync. 

One guy told me that he liked how obvious it was that we were enjoying ourselves.  I'm glad he noticed, and I'm even more glad that he actually told me.  I'm pretty picky about who I play with.  Not that I'm a snob, more because I don't want to do something I'm not 100% proud of and into.  Phoning in a performance happens to everyone occasionally, but it's unfair to the audience that has given time and money to see you.  And it's unfair to the other musicians onstage.
I try to play every show like it's my last.  Give everything I have.  Because you never know - it might be your last show.  And if you don't give your all, your next show just might not have an audience.


Anyway, I'm really happy to be playing with Cliff, Vera, Johnny, and Jonathan.

Musical Memories

A few months ago my mother passed away.


My parents had a surprisingly large influence on my musical tastes – they weren’t like most of my friends parents. My childhood home had a fantastic record stash including Simon & Garfunkel, Blondie, Roxy Music, ABBA, and many other bands that I still love. They took me to my first live concert, Bryan Ferry’s Bete Noire tour in 1988. I hated Ferry at that time, I was into hard rock. I went because they had an extra pair of tickets and my cousin and I had nothing better to do that night. Ten minutes before the show started, I was still mumbling “Bryan sucks – kill the synths!” Thirty seconds after the first song started, I was a convert. I danced through the entire concert, in awe of what I was seeing and hearing. As we left Exhibition Stadium, I elbowed my way to the front of the merch-booth line, buying a T-shirt. I still have it.

So obviously my parents encouraged me musically. When I was 14 and learning to play the guitar, my mother had a piano. She wasn’t especially good, but loved plinking away at it. We used to play David Bowie’s “Space Oddity together.” Only that song, nothing else seemed to work – we just weren’t that good.

As Mother’s Day is coming this weekend, I was thinking about how my surviving family will deal with the weekend. I thought I’d be fine. Then I heard ‘Space Oddity’ on the internet radio and my heard dropped.

I miss you Mum! Happy Mother’s Day!

St. Paddy's Review

The St. Paddy’s Day shows with the Boys From County Hell went really well. Two shows, five sets, two or three encores (I can’t remember), seventeen worn-down guitar picks, five musicians, no broken strings, one hell of a day! Oh – and too many pints of beer and shots of whiskey to count.

After the last song at the Cloak & Dagger, the last song of the night, I was ready to keep playing. I think the others were too. Unfortunately our voices were all disappearing and exhaustion was setting in.
This was the first time I’ve been onstage in years, and I’d forgotten how much I love it. We’ll have to book a few more shows this year. One thing that I didn’t forget – I always look angry or annoyed onstage, even when I’m having the time of my life!

Cheers, and I hope everyone else had as good a time as me!

... and that's a shamrock fake tattoo on my forehead, as I didn't have anything green to wear.

Idol Worship

Tonight I'm heading up to Casino Rama to see Bryan Ferry.

In August 1988, a wee lad of 14, my parents had an extra ticket to his Bete Noire tour in Toronto. I agreed to go simply because there was nothing good on TV that night. I hated Ferry and his Roxy Music cohorts. Ugh, that was music my parents listened to. There weren't nearly enough gritty guitars... But I went.
We got to Exhibition Stadium, and I looked at all the middle-aged, middle-class fans with distaste.

The lights dropped, as the steam rose from the audience. As the curtain dropped, the first notes of Limbo started. 60 seconds in I was hooked. I was dancing on my chair for the entire show, a 100% convert. At the end of the show, I elbowed my way to the front of the queue to buy a t-shirt.
I then spent 10 years obsessively listening to Roxy Music and Ferry's solo material. Weathering the barbs of friends who didn't "get it." It wasn't fashionable to like glitter and glam. In the late 90s, it suddenly became trendy, and fellow musicians were jumping on the bandwagon.
For a laugh, i wore my Bete Noire memento to a rehearsal and my drummer gasped "where did you get that?" At the concert, I glibly replied laughing on the inside.
Around that time, his portrait was tattooed on my left forearm, along with similar icons of David Bowie and Keith Richards.

I have spent the last 23 years trying to see him in concert again, and always in vain. The first tour that hit Toronto after '88 found me broke and unable to afford a ticket. The next couple, including Roxy Music's reunion in 2001 (ish), found me forced to be elsewhere.
A few months ago, he announced a North American tour. I noticed that while there was no Canadian gig listed, there was a suspicious 6-day break between New York and Ohio. That's too long a break... I trolled the internet until discovering a sneaky, not-well-publicized stop in Rama.

So now I've got fantastic seats to tonight's show. Prepare to be bombarded with posts about one of my musical idols and more Ferry-inspired music blasting from my studio in the near future.

Remembrance Day

This morning I woke up with Pink Floyd's "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" in my head. Not much of it, just the first line: "Remember when you were young, you shone like the sun..."
I've been a Floyd fan for around 25 years, but today for the first time it made me think of my grandfather.

My family is British, and when World War 2 broke out everyone joined up. Everyone. My grandfather was 16 or 17, and went to enlist on Day 1. He wasn't old enough to know to lie, so when asked his age he told the truth. The enlistment officer flatly told him that he wasn't old enough to join the army. He would have to leave, walk around the block, and come back when he was 18. So what did he do? He left the office, walked around the block, and came back saying "I'm 18 sir."
He fought in North Africa and Italy. He was captured at Anzio and saw some horriffic things happen. Stories that I recently heard from my parents that are worse than you see in films.

When the war ended, he went home. He polished his medals and put them in the back of a drawer.
36 years later, he was dying of prostate cancer. He pulled his medals out of the drawer for the first time, shined them, mailed them to Canada and died. I was very close to my grandad, and it meant a lot that he wanted me to have those icons. I received them after hearing of his death, which was quite hard.

These medals sat for for another 30 years in a box hidden away in the various bedrooms I've had since then. For Christmas, my wife had them set into a shadow box along with my only photo of him. This display is mounted on the wall just as you enter my apartment. It serves as a memorial to my grandfather, and also as a reminder to live my life with the honour he did, to make his memory proud.

Thank you grandad, I miss you.

Swagger & Twirl

I haven’t been blogging much lately. I keep thinking that nothing is really progressing, and then BAM – i write 2 more songs before lunch!

I wrote a good one last weekend, titled (for now) Swagger And Twirl. It describes myself around a decade ago, in the depths of Glitter/Glam rock. Let me explain (yeah, TRY to stop me)…

I’ve always loved old-school punk rock. The Stooges, MC5, New York Dolls, that sort of thing. Rude, aggressive, and dirty – that’s one of the things I admire most in art. That goes for photography too, I’d rather see a shot of a burned out urban factory than a pretty landscape anytime.
Physically, I’ve usually been on the ‘nicer’ side of fashion. Before shaving my head, I paid a lot of attention to my hair and makeup. I thought nothing of dying my hair teal, and slapping on some eyeliner and whore-ish red lipstick. There was also sightings of designer shirts, leopard-print tights and red patent leather shoes, blending with my extensive tattoos to set up a unique visual. I wasn’t always put together in the best taste and have literally stopped traffic on Yonge Street with gawkers.
I’ve had to stop the makeup and hair dye – as I age it’s looking more and more like Buffalo Bill from The Silence of The Lambs. But there was always an appreciation for nice suits, watches, and the like.

The glam and glitter scenes really combined these two, personified in 1970's David Bowie, Bryan Ferry and the like. Glitter often had a prettier musical side, but that was cool in it’s own right. Once I realized that one could present a tight, stylish image with a balls-out guitar-driven sound, I knew my place was somewhere in that. Really starting in the early 70s, images started appearing of a lipsticked, fashion-conscious guitarist, Les Paul slung low, blasting out obscenities in a cloud of cigarette smoke. Blending the swaggering confidence and aggression of the iconic rock’n’roll guitarist with the staging presentation of the fashionable created a unique and multi-faceted scene that has withstood many deviations over the decades.

Having dinner with my fiancé the other night, we were talking about attitudes and egos with performers. How the need to feel confident in your abilities can be the only thing that keeps you going. I commented that there was a time I’d walk into a club with the attitude “I am the king of all I see, and fuck those who disagree.” We scrambled for a pen and a napkin, and the song started to take shape.

Swagger And Twirl – the perfect combination. Maybe that can be the song for entering the night. Leaving the night will require a sequel: Stagger And Hurl.

Maybe…

Alien

In 2005 I got engaged and moved from central Toronto to a small town 1.5 hours away, to live with my betrothed.

I’ve never felt comfortable in rural areas, and this time was no different. I agreed to move, and own that responsibility. However, the impact was much harder than I’d expected; instead of a relaxed life, I felt unsafe, unwelcome, pretty much un-everything. I couldn’t find a single person or activity in the town that suited me. Even my spouse seemed happy to disappear, leaving me lonely in this quiet empty space.

Still, ever the optimist (haha), I focused on my writing. Alien pretty much epitomizes that stage of my life.


Alien

A foreign street
A promise kept
So out of place
So out of time

Alien space
I’ve come for you
So out of play
So out of mind

Unfriendly air
Is closing in
To choke me down
I’ll somehow win

Endurance run
I would repeat
I do for you
Do what you need

Don’t see the pain
This way we win
I’d lie for you
My only sin

My life for you
In foreign land
Give up my home
To hold your hand

As an aside, this song also worked as a fun experiment. I took the vocal tracks (with no music whatsoever), copied them to a CD, and handed them to a group called Electric Colony. My only comment was that it was recorded at 80beats/minute and the chord changes were Aminor, Fmajor, Cmajor, Gmajor.

As they had never heard my versions, what came back was an entirely different being. I really love that music can be interpreted so individually…
Both are available on this blog’s player. Mine is ‘Alien’, and EC’s is the "Elecolonized Remix."

Guitars – A love story

I received my first guitar for Christmas when I was 14. A low-end acoustic, it still managed to spark my interest. For my birthday 4 months later*, I was given a cheap electric model. That was enough to get me into lessons, and learning songs like The Stones’ “Miss You” and AC/DC’s “Hells Bells.”

I saved my pennies, and on Thanksgiving Monday 1991, my Dad drove me and 4 friends around Lake Ontario. The purpose: to stop at Rochester NY’s famed House Of Guitars, picking up a Fender Telecaster. This sole instrument would propel me in my goal of becoming Keith Richards.


The 1991 Fender Telecaster (with current modifications):

I bought this guitar in 1991 for $300. New models are almost twice the price.
I upgraded the pickups twice. The first was to put Heavy Metal-type pickups in, unfortunately due to my tastes of the time. A couple of years ago I replaced them with a Fender Texas Special in the bridge, and a Fender Gold Dual-Lace Sensor in the neck. I also replaced the bridge ($1 on ebay) and the tuning keys. I actually had to cut the pickguard to fit the new bridge, but didn't have a saw. If you look slightly behind the centre of the guitar, you can see the wobbly edge of the white, that I cut with A DRILL. When you don't have the right tool, use a drill. Really, only the body and neck are original. And there’s a really cool Skull pin glued into the body, which I bought at the X-Pensive Winos’ Massey Hall show in 1992.
This guitar was my primary instrument from 1991 on. I used to to smash a padlock (dent on the upper front of the body). When I played with Lovejoy in 2000, I performed with them 9 days after meeting and hearing them for the first time. I played so much learning the set, that my finger split while onstage, smearing blood all down the neck.
It has 18 years of extensive wear, eroding my favourite places on the neck. Like water running through a stream, the fretboard has slight indents where it’s most used. This subconsciously directs fingers to specific notes and patterns.

When I was 15, at the height of my Rolling Stones/ Keith Richards obsession, I saw a poster of him with a 1972 Fender Telecaster Custom. It was the most beautiful guitar I had ever seen, and I swore then that I would own one. It’s a classic model, and highly prized. Given the value and rarity, I decided that I’d accept either a 1972 model (first year produced), a 1974 model (my birth year), or a 1973 (because it’s in-between). A 1975 would be worthless to me.

In late 2008, I suddenly came into an unexpected few thousand dollars. After 19 years, I still hadn’t been able to afford my Holy Grail of Guitars. So I quickly went on Ebay and found a model better than I’d ever expected:

The 1974 Fender Telecaster Custom, with a factory-installed Bigsby tremolo system:

The Bigsby isn’t rare in and of itself. But they were usually added after the purchase. Mine has the Fender ‘F’ logo instead of the Bigsby script. Rarer. And the body wasn’t drilled through for strings, like the after-market installs were. The only part of this guitar not original is the bridge pickup, which someone replaced with a Seymour Duncan model. I plan on buying a Fender ’74 pickup, to put it back to 100%.

This guitar has been played by other people for 35 years. It is road-worn. It has a soul, a presence. The fretboard has been eroded by others’ personal tastes, routing my fingers to new and unexpected phrases. These notes and positions are NOT usually my favourites. This actually caused conflict when I first played the guitar, it felt decidedly uncomfortable. I resolved it by locking my ’91 in the closet for 6 months playing nothing but the ’74. It worked, and the 1974 Telecaster Custom is my (musical) dream-come-true.

I do love the history of my guitar – it suits me perfectly. The Ebay seller gave me the name of it’s previous owner, and I google-searched him. Here’s a pic of my instrument with it’s other lover. This pic is wonderful, and I hope to be able to live up to it’s Dead-Elvis past.

This 1974 Tele Custom had a huge impact on the production of Overture. It’s the only electric guitar on the entire album. I wanted to make the songs sound the way the guitar looks, if that makes sense to anyone else.

Hope you enjoyed this history/guitar-geek ramble.


* do the math, it’s coming up soon!

Naked For Jesus

… I THOUGHT that title might get your attention.

I moved to Toronto in early 1996, from a little (a$$)hole-in-the-wall town in Southern Ontario.
Walking down Bloor St one day, I ran into an acquaintance from high-school. He told me that he was looking for musicians to start a band. Together we put it together:
We ended up as a 4-piece: two acoustic guitars playing punk rock guitar, a bassist, a Sarah McLaughlin-esque soft singer, and a dancy-techno drum machine. We called ourselves ‘Naked For Jesus’ and played exactly ½ of a show (a complete set, but only one guitarist and the singer were there).

We recorded a 4-song demo that I wish I still had.

Naked For Jesus could have been great. But I ended up "dating" the singer.
After a month or two, I found her laying on a friend’s kitchen floor making out with a homeless guy. AT MY BIRTHDAY PARTY. A homeless guy who had been stealing from my vodka bottle all night…. I stepped over the couple, took my bottle, expressed my anger at his swiping my liquor, and went home.

Ever the professional, I had no intention of leaving the band. It was too awesome. Neither did she, and agreed to be friendly. When it was time to choose cover song ideas, I suggested ‘Loose’ by Iggy Pop. Honestly, I thought it would sound fantastic, with raw acoustic guitars, a dance-y beat, and a soft vocal.
Unfortunately the singer didn’t believe me. Something about the chorus (I stick it deep inside, I stick it deep inside, ‘Cause I’m Loose) didn’t feel right to her…
She got offended and quit, breaking up the group before we ever really got our start.

I never saw the bassist again. I heard that the singer dropped out of school around the time her homeless boyfriend got beat up for being a Nazi. The other guitarist and I remained friends for a few years, until alcohol and a hectic city pace drew him back to small-town Ontario. We never played together again.


********
Also when I moved here, I was listening obsessively to The Velvet Underground. They appeared on my MP3 player this morning and I thougth about NFJ for the first time in over a decade.

History Re-viewed

I don't know when this was - sometime between 2000 and 2003. Canadian Music Week, if I remember correctly.

Damn, I looked cool smoking on stage!
hahaha