Monday, 21 December 2009
four/four.
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
one/four.
Probably for the best as it allowed full concentration on the scant amount of revision for the exam that I just returned from. The module had already been passed before I went into the exam, as it was only worth 25% of the overall grade, so pressure was certainly off. Nonetheless, I seemed to get slightly carried away and write one of the most anti-American things I’ve ever written; for a course on American History Since 1865. Opinions were coming out that I didn’t even know I had. I did, on the other hand, get the word ‘feminazi’ in there, as well as refer to the ‘war on terror’ as a war on an abstract noun. The joys of pass/fail years!
Anyway, I wanted to discuss some musical musings for anyone that is interested. Here are a few recommendations.

It makes sense to begin with the first band I saw in Canada, The Rural Alberta Advantage, when they supported The Weakerthans on the 15th November and was so impressed I caught them at a headline show a couple of months later. They’re Canadian, signed to Saddle Creek Records and play a very catchy form of folk-rock that kind of makes me think of Neutral Milk Hotel if they were a bit more upbeat. There’s quite a variety of instrumentation and the vocalist, Nils Edenloff (ludicrous name) looks like Jason Statham. I don’t know what more you could want. But, seriously, this band is well accessible. Give them a go. Oh, and I have a big, fat crush on the girl in the band. She’s lovely (to look at).
Aside from the fact this band are desperately missing a comma from their Bukowski-inspired name, they are awesome and similarly Canadian (Kitchener, Ontario). If I said the words No Idea, Punk News or beards you’d get the impression of the sounds they make. It’s lovely gruff, catchy punk with all the familiar comparisons: Hot Water Music, Gunmoll, Polar Bear Club etc. You know if you’ll like it or not.
Someone recommended me this man at the Fest. I’m not quite sure who as I vaguely remember it being dark at the time and if it’s dark and you’re in Florida at the Fest sobriety is never going to be likely. It could have been the guy with the Defiance, Ohio tattoo in the queue for Good Luck… but it doesn’t really matter. Either way, I’m eternally grateful. The Tallest Man on Earth is one man (Kristian Matsson) from Sweden playing awesome twiddly, finger-picked folk music in the vein of M. Ward, Bon Iver and Iron & Wine. It’s beard music for indie kids, if we want to keep with the beard theme. This video of the song ‘It Will Follow the Rain’ is pretty haunting. Thoroughly enjoyable.
This band won’t be new to the people that like this kind of music but, regardless, I’m going to harp on about how excited they get me, and how refreshing they are in a genre that can become tiresome. Essentially, it is like Modern Life is War never broke up. Defeater’s brand of raging, passionate hardcore bears a lot of resemblance to them, and even the vocalists are both doppelgangers of EastEnders’ Martin Fowler. Defeater’s little nuance is that their records form a narrative, they’re concept albums, and not in the 70s prog-rock sense. Travels, their first release, follows a man from his birth in 1945 all the way to his death and it’s not the happiest tale. The recently released Lost Ground EP follows the character from track six on Travels (who plays the Bright Eyes-esque acoustic song in the story, which also appears on the record) and his journey to World War II and subsequent demise on his return home. It’s intelligently written hardcore punk that I really can’t stop listening to.
Sunday, 6 December 2009
eh?
I’d like to first clarify that contrary to my last blog post. I am not in Western Ontario but in fact in Southern Ontario.

This image illustrates it pretty well. Hamilton is nestled next to that big red, Soviet star that is Toronto, which is closer to the east anyway. Canada is stupid big. That is something that I’ve had to come to terms with rather quickly as the sense of scale is radically different from anything I’ve experienced before. In the nervy weeks before boarding the Canada-bound plane I spent a substantial amount of time rigorously looking at Google maps of Hamilton. From what I could ascertain McMaster University campus was a 10-15 minute walk from Downtown Hamilton. In reality, it’s a twenty minute bus ride and completely not walkable. Not that there’s much reason to venture into the dreary shit heap that is Downtown, but I’ll come back to that. Similarly, whenever a Canadian gives you the time that it takes to from walk A to B that time needs to be doubled at bare minimum. After some consideration of why the hell Canadians were so constantly misinformed it came down to the fact that they drive absolutely everywhere, thus, times are given as a drive length. And I think I’ve seen more Hummers than hatchbacks.
Canada is also not as beautiful as I was expecting. I’m not quite sure what exactly I was expecting but it was not this. Driving along the motorways, looking out the window all you can see is flat, boring fields and electricity pylons (pylons to Canadians means traffic cones as well – unbelievable). Not to say that there aren’t some awesome spots. Algonquin National Park was incredible, especially at the beginning of autumn when the leaves are all different shades. Even in Hamilton there are some pleasant spots, it being the waterfall capital of world and all that. It’s pretty strange getting used to cities being completely different. There’s nothing historic about them, they’re all so planned, in their grid format with the general consensus being to make every building massive and ugly. When they do try to do something more pleasant and old fashioned it comes across very contrived. Even so, there is still something quite appealing about the whole ‘metropolis’ city vibe. The feeling of insignificance when standing at the foot of the huge high-rise buildings tearing into the sky that greet you as you leave the Union station in downtown Toronto is something I had never really felt before. I’m looking forward to getting out east, in Quebec, which is supposed to have a much more European outlook.
I do, actually, quite like Hamilton. I had a lot of people local Canadians laugh at me when I said I was going to study in the Hammer, including the guys from The Flatliners. The city is famous for its smoke stack skyline and fervent heavy industry. Sort of like Sheffield, before Sheffield became at all cultured. Understandably, I did not have high expectations and downtown is, all things considered, horrible. Full of people that have ruined themselves on drugs, tearing around Jackson Square on their wheelchairs whilst trying to utter inaudible sentences to people that dare get too close. It's quite scary. Luckily, very little time is spent downtown. The areas around campus, such as West Dale and Dundas, are much more pleasant, and the campus itself is spacious and quite pretty, despite the nuclear reactor. In the same way that I prefer Leeds over London, it doesn't have the sense of anonymity that you get when wandering around Toronto that can be quite intimidating.
Despite all this complaining, I am actually having a good time. Believe it or not. The novelty of living in another country is enough but I’ve met some stellar folk, had some fantastic boozy times, been to a shed load of shows, and visited a lot of places whilst still managing to keep up a respectable grade. I look back pensively at the heat of September and wonder why the hell I didn’t go to Australia. The ground is starting to get frozen, I have to wear more clothes as each week goes by and the murmurs of the oncoming snow are endemic. It was minus 1 this afternoon and it’s only getting colder. At least I’ll have my first, and probably last, white Christmas in Ottawa.
Vegetarianism has been an overwhelmingly, satisfying decision. I’ve been meat free for three months and two days. Sadly, the swan song of my carnivorous diet was some drossy casserole on the flight over but, since arriving in Toronto and consuming my first Harvey’s veggie burger, the name of the game has been falafel, soy substitutes, fruit, soup and nuts. It’s been pretty easy, to be fair. Only the occasional craving for a bacon and egg sandwich makes itself known when I’m nursing a malt liquor induced hangover. I implore anyone to give it a try. If you have any interest in environmental issues, being vegetarian makes a difference, no matter what people say to the contrary.
Reference to my time spent at The Fest in Gainesville is imperative, I believe. This was some of the best times I’ve had in my life. Knocking about sunny Florida, 40z and PBR in hand, alongside three of my best friends, seeing my favourite bands among the friendliest posse of idiots I’ve ever come across at a festival. Highlights:
- Salad from Michigan.
- Iron Chic
- Hotel parties.
- House shows.
- Beating my PB at ‘time spent crowd surfing’ during Defiance, Ohio's second set of the weekend.
- The cheapest beer I’ve ever come across.
- Crusties.
- Bowling around Gainesville at 3am in my boxers.
- The Kickstand.
- Vegan steak.
- The beautiful girl from Italy whose name is long lost among myriad inebriated memories.
- Luke Faggetter confirming that he is, by far, the biggest twat I know.
- The sense of solidarity.
I wish the Fest was everyday.
My ramblings have about run their course, I think. I’ll actually try to keep this up-to-date now…
But hopefully shorter, and written better. I've been writing this too long to even bother reading through.
P.S. I have a moustache.

Wednesday, 2 September 2009
farewell.
Definitely hate goodbyes a lot. Definitely have some awesome friends.
Goodbye Mid-Kent. Hello Western Ontario.
Monday, 31 August 2009
a dose of the pink eye.
Conjunctivitis is rubbish. Completely rubbish. I suppose my real bitterness towards this silly infection is that it is preventing me from seeing my friends and partying before I depart for Moose country on Thursday. It is very satisfying to pick the gunge and crusty bits out of my eyes. But I think I would rather be on my way up the North Downs for an inebriated camping session this fine Summer evening. Instead I am holed up in my room with eyes that wouldn't look out of place on the walking dead with that level of boredom that I can't even be bothered to alleviate. The main activity is to insist on trying all the variety of Pop Cap 'casual' computer games even though I know that none will live up to the triump that is Peggle.
It's a shame that this bank holiday weekend started so fantastically with Friday's lounge garden party but then went so rapidly downhill about two hours into what would turn out to be my last shift at work on Saturday night. After an angry newlywed couple came very close to staying in a single room on their wedding day due to the incompetence of someone who couldn't take a booking properly, failing to assign them a room and letting the hotel fill up. Hull (on his first shift) and I were left to try to find them a room somewhere in Maidstone (obviously everywhere was full on a Saturday) whilst the rest of the staff were three sheets to the wind in Beluga Bar in aid of a colleague's leaving. Then a couple of hours and a painkiller overdose later the whole of the staff are in the hotel lobby crying their eyes out whilst ambulances are called and a drunk man from Cameroon speaks to me fervently on the philosophy of depression. Not a great first impression for Hull. Not a great ending to the job for me, as I couldn't make it to the last shift due to the pink eye.
On the plus side. Flights to The Fest in Gainesville this Halloween are now booked. I don't think it's sunk in that I'm actually going yet, but then again I don't think it's sunk in that I'm emmigrating to Canada on Thursday. Here's to hoping Sam, Luke, Hull and Jordan all sort it out as well.
So I will continue to sneeze eye drop liquid out of my nose praying that I am in a fit state to paint Toronto red on Thursday.
confessions of a night porter.
So. Between stints of UEFA cup classics and public health programmes on BBC3 disguised as interesting, mainstream documentaries I thought it was about time to make use of this nocturnal nothingness that is my employment as a night porter to write the first entry in this blog. The whole point of it really is to keep those that are interested up-to-date on my exploits in Canada as I've had a couple of people ask that I do something like this and it'd be pretty sweet to have the memoirs. But, it'll almost definitely end up being a medium to vent my musical opinions as well, keeping myself busy an' that. The title is from a Latterman song that I believe sums my intoxicated behaviour aptly. And Latterman are awesome.
Right now, I can't think of much else to say. It's coming up to 3 am, which means half way. All my jobs are done and I've seen all the 'I'm a teenager with a social problem that is very current in the UK ' documentaries that the BBC can throw at me so what to do to whittle away the hours is a tricky agenda. At least the lion's share of the boredom is over. This place is so deathly quiet that when a truck comes past really loudly it makes my heart skip a beat. The walls are so creaky as well. Old buildings creep me out.
I did watch the swedish vampire film 'Let the Right One In' today and was thoroughly impressed. It is pretty much devoid of horror and instead focuses on the relationship between two twelve year old kids, one being a vampire and the other an outcast at school and how they both find sanctuary in one another. It works really well and the conclusion is subtley tragic, disguised as a 'fairy tale' ending but veiling the reality of what has happened over the course of the film. Think it's the first Swedish film I've seen. Definitely worth a go, especially before Hollywood butchers it with the already planned re-make for 2010.
Right, back to the Ashes' highlights.



