Monday, January 26, 2009
Rap in ... Edmonton?
So although Edmonton shouldn't exactly conjure scenes of NWA in Compton, it nonetheless has a burgeoning rap scene. In large part, it is due to the precocious genius of a fellow called Rollie Pemberton aka Cadence Weapon. I first encountered Weapon when he DJ-ed at a work party for Divine Decadence. Regrettably at my tender age, I didn't recognize the innovation I was witnessing and shrugged it off. However, his irrepressible rhymes and empathic beats weren't to be forgotten.
It wasn't until a fateful CBC Radio 3 podcast (#133- Pardon My French) that I reconnected the dots and became aghast with Sir Weapon's talent. Admittently, I was very impressionable: having to endure a 10 hour bus ride through Sweden in the bleary-eyed aftermath of Valentine's Day left me vulnerable state. The characteristic swagger of Rollie's rhymes soothed me through the day while his Edmonton-centric allusions ("she takes shots like [Tommy] Salo" <3) href="http://www.blogger.com/www.roskilde-festival.dk">Roskilde Music Festival in Denmark, I took up the opportunity to see Weapon in the flesh. I was not disappointed: mugging with Oilers' socks and effervescent presence, I was enthralled. Despite this, I was distracted by the general buzz of the festival and departed to queue for Neil Young's mainstage show. It was only in my post-Neil bliss that I encountered Weapon, wondering around aimlessly. Apparently he had been deserted by his entourage and was looking for some guidance. Ever the polite fellow, he charged me with the task of returning him to his handlers.
Six months elapses. Celebrating Obama's euphoric inauguration, I find both Weapon and I frequenting the Empress last Tuesday night. For curiousity's sake, I approach him and recount our fated previous encounter, wondering if he will remember. Responding with a embrace, I was reassured that my idol-worship isn't ill-invested.
Which brings me to his new release! Never one to rest on his laurels, he has an exclusive web-release which is accessible only a la Radiohead's meritocratic donation. It is aptly titled to limit "Separation Anxiety" before Weapon's next full album.
Now before I descend in a totally subjective analysis, I cannot forget: Corvid Lorax! Usually seen promenading down Whyte Ave with pitbulls, dressed as a Swami, Lorax is a fierce up-and-comer. At a recent show with the AssailEnts Cru, Lorax proved his chops. Though the venue was dubious (Strathearn Pub anyone?), the trek was definitely worthwhile. Exploding with venomous barbs and smarting hooks, the small audience was enraptured. No wonder. Comprising bhangra influences with social commentary Lorax's music is surprisingly diverse and neglects conventional rap cliches.
Labels: AssailEnts CRU, Cadence Weapon, CBC Radio 3, Corvid Lorax, Radiohead, Tommy Salo
Oldies but goodies
So I have been rather lazy lately and haven't updated anything!
For the time being: here are some articles I published in past months that may serve of interest.
1) Interview with Two Hours Traffic
2) Interview with the Acorn
3) Rebuttal to *^%@!# federal arts funding cut
Enjoy!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Penny Lane is not my favorite Beatles’ song. Nor is it my second, third or forth favorite. Nonetheless, this Lennon and McCartney Liverpool stomping ground provided the name for the most consummate (albeit fictional) of groupies. It is this illustrious character from Cameron Crowe’s Almost Famous with whom I identify and whose rationale describes the goals of this blog.
I had my first groupie experience at the tender age of two. At a Sharon, Lois and Bram concert I first felt this urge to martyr myself for the sake of music. Tottering from the second balcony of Edmonton’s Jubilee Auditorium, I precariously approached the edge in order to indulge my musical raptures. Skin-a-ma-rink-i-dink was the shit man! Having marked my brief existence by their sing-a-longs and leftist conceptions of sharing, I sought to be nearer to them. My proximity to the tier’s inadequate railings lead Bram (the first love of my life, explaining my propensity for bearded men) to stop mid-song, and call to have me returned to my seat. Thus the building security was deployed, and I was kept from my true calling. This primal impulse of mine has not diminished in years past.
My innocence intact, I seek to further the vocational resolve that came to me in childhood.
To preserve my integrity, I have taken to the definition of “groupies” and “band-aids” as provided my guru. As articulated by Kate Hudson in Almost Famous:
”Groupies sleep with rockstars because they want to be near someone famous. [Band-Aids] are here because ... we inspire the music”.
It is in that vein that I hope to expose myself (pun slightly intended) to as many musicians as possible. To understand their psyche and their place of origin, one may better understand their music; the ultimate goal of an aspiring music journalist. So whether it means waiting outside the dressing room or approaching the dubious stage managers, I will do what it takes with no qualms.
In the past year through various expeditions I have started this holy quest of mine. And I have collected tokens as proof. From personally-labeled EPs to screen-printed panties (thank you, Holy Fuck) I have amassed a collection to make a pack rat proud. While these musical artifacts offer some nostalgic consolation, they cannot match the experiences the represent: traveling to Scotland to see Stars and get invited to their exclusive after-party acoustic set or dancing on broken glass and chowing down of free hot dogs at the Ida Maria CD release party.
While I admit to have a had few lapses in professionalism. From time to time I have been wooed by the sultry come-ons of Irish country rockers (hello, PS I Love You) or seduced by the stuttered eloquencies of Norwegian dilletantes. And as one would suspect of any feckless artiste, after these encounters I didn’t receive a phone call back the next day.
But I have kept in my integrity: no hotel rooms...yet. Likewise I have falsely adulated some undeservingly (I’m sure John Vanderslice didn’t deserve all my attention on Valentine’s Day this year).
Moreover, I can’t be blamed that all the buzz-worthy bands of the day boast lip-lickingly enigmatic frontmen! Impressionable girls such as I shouldn’t have to be faced with such excruciating judgment calls: compromises myself by throwing myself at the mercy of a flighty men or get the legit "on the books" story. But until then, I am simply along for the ride. But not like a ‘hop on the tour bus overnight to Manchester’ ride, but the metaphorical Bildungsroman kind.
Labels: Almost Famous, groupies, Ida Maria, John Vanderslice, music, Sharon Lois and Bram, The Mighty Stef
