19 April 2015

Still Shocking After All These Years

                

 I'm a shock trooper
   In a stupor
Yes I am

I'm a Nazi Schatze
Y' know
I fight for the Fatherland




I still make mix tapes. Painstakingly slow, I know, but the results are worth it. Taking the time to listen to what you are doing makes all the difference.

Hitched a dandy Pioneer dual deck to the second stereo where I do my taping now. Got the Luxman in the living room where its superior playback capability is used best. I have far too many cassettes to not use them when I am taping. Records, CDs, cassettes and the AGS 8-track. One day I will add the old VCR to the system so I can add that audio source to my music library.

Got the latest tape playing right now. Old Stones and everything from The Fendermen to Humble Pie on it; Dutch Mason and Thin Lizzy too.

Last song on the tape is from a Ramones' 1978 live television performance in fucking Germany. The shit it is. 20 songs squeezed on to two sides of vinyl. K-Tel styling. Comes with a DVD of the whole show. Watching fucking Germans sing along to "Today Your Love, Tomorrow the World" is worth the price of this artifact alone. Highly recommended if you are having difficulty going deaf, as I am.


15 April 2015

The Politics of Recalling MLAs



You may be aware at least a couple fucking Liberal MLAs are facing recall campaigns. Hard not to cheer on the people trying to force a career move on them but you will not hear me cheering their recall.

Elections are best left to election time. Takes a lot of steam to build up enough pressure for people, in their masses, to change a government. Recall campaigns allow some of that steam to blow off.

Not a good idea in my opinion.

14 April 2015

Out and About



Lot
Of times
When
The Hammer

And
I are
Out
And about

People
Say to
me,
"Your dog

Sure is pretty."

12 April 2015

Heads Up For the New Neighbour

I expected it. Expected it like the Canuck car flags that will be on half the cars in the sawmill parking lot come the first game of the playoffs.



A homeless man moved into the temporarily, very temporarily, vacant nearby woods.

The Hammer and I introduced ourselves same as we would somebody who moved into a house instead of a makeshift tent. The Hammer with a trusty stream of piss, signalling this was her fucking land he was squatting; me with an out reached flask of cask strength, signalling we might as well get fucked up.

Homeless people and me are the fucking same. I just about found myself in the same spot once. I do not have to think too hard to remember 1982. No job. No future. No money to pay the rent.

My new drinking buddy had an accent so I asked him, "Where you from?"

"The Ukraine. Near border with Russia."

His accent sounded Nova Scotian to me. If he wanted to pretend he was a Hunky that was fine with me.

"Anybody going to mind me living here?" he asked me.

"Sooner or later somebody will come down in the night and beat the fucking shit out of you," I told him. From the Ukraine my ass.

"Same here as everywhere I guess," he shrugged.

"No it's not," I warned him. "It's way fucking worse here in Steepleton."


9 April 2015

K-Tel



Now I have publicly declared my L-U-V for Showaddywaddy it will surprise few of you to learn some my favourite records this past winter and spring have been K-Tel compilations and their like.

20 Greatest Hits! 20 Greatest Stars! Stereo! (can also be played on mono) As advertised on T.V!

How's this for a California Sun K-Tel comp? First Class, Jan & Dean, Hondells, Turtles, Joe Jones, Mamas and the Papas, Gary (US) Bonds, Surfaris, Rip Chords, Johnny Rivers, Lovin' Spoonful, Gary Puckett & the Union Gap, Frankie Ford, Gary Lewis & the Playboys, Freddy Cannon, Chantays and Bobby Motherfuckin' Freeman all on one record!

How the fuck do you beat that?

Made and litho' d in Canada in 1976 when Trudeau was Prime Minister.

What a record. What a year. What an asshole.

8 April 2015

Showaddywaddy



When I got to England I was looking forward to the aggressive fun of punk rock. Only trouble was punk rock had not yet got going.

The England I found was listening to Queen, possibly the biggest, stinkiest load of shit ever recorded, and Showaddywaddy, a stageful of wank teds.

Showaddywaddy even had their own tv show. I remember watching it and drinking straight Southern Comfort Export with the family I was staying with.

"What do you think of them?" I was asked.

"Not exactly the fucking Beatles, are they?" was as polite an answer I could manage before adding, "and it is too bad the BBC will never give Rush a show on the telly."

As if.

What the fuck had happened to the English? 30 years without a war and they had gone softer than the Queen Mom's ass.

That is what I thought of Showaddywaddy until today when I came home with a couple albums of their's from the thrift store. Fucking brilliant Showaddywaddy are. Like a more inbred version of Sha-Na-Na.

Guess anything that's rock 'n' roll's fine with me now.





7 April 2015

On Popular Culture



What endures in popular culture is hard to get a handle on. As a record collector I cannot help but notice what does or does not continue to find favour with my fellow audiophiles.

You see one fuck of a lot more Bill Cosby records than you used to on the old record shelves. The Cos is no longer enduring with the people for some reason. If I put one of my old Cosby records on at a party it just might get flung out a window.

The premier of my province recently tweeted or some fucking thing about proudly purchasing a used Rolf Harris record. Word somehow had not reached the premier that Harris is doing time for not keeping his didgeridoo in his pants around the children. His cultural popularity apparently only endures with the extremely dim witted.

Michael Jackson continues to endure in the popular culture. Being a total fuck up seems to help maintain one's position in popular culture even when it looks like there is not a jail evil enough to deprive you of your liberty. I could put on a Michael Jackson record at a party and people would dance.

Moon dance, motherfuckers.


5 April 2015

Four Strong Winds

Thinking on Ian Tyson got me looking at YouTube. Watched him sing some there. Watched him telling stories too. Turned Bob Dylan on to pot the story goes. Us B.C. Boys are some bad ass motherfuckers I tell you.

Got to watching more You Tube than ever it turns out. Prefer music, generally speaking, in my ears I do. Watched Neil Young singing "Four Strong Winds" with Willie Nelson on a long ago Farm Aid stage. Forgot what a nimble player Willie is.

That led me to de-shelving Young's "Comes A Time" and spinning it on my record player. It is the record, more than any other, that kept me in touch with other music than blood and guts punk rock in the late '70s. Hard to believe I made room for this mellow shit at this time of my life now I look back on it - except for its brilliance.

Listen to anything rock 'n' roll radio would not fucking play in 1978 followed by this one and you will know what I mean.
  
Drank my coffee as I listened. Rocking in my rocking chair. Sonja sang along to "Lotta Love" as she pet the Hammer laying in the window sun.

Last song on the record is "Four Strong Winds." Young putting it on the record put enough money in Tyson's Wrangler back pocket to put a down payment on his Longview, Alberta ranch.

Like stories like that I do. Neil's generousity. Tyson's generousity. Got us some spirit in this country we do. Some spirit that ain't ever going to die.

Old Corrals and Sagebrush



Been catching up with country and western music since I turned 40 and it looks like I may just never catch up at all. Growing up some in Motherfucking, Alberta and spending many of my young boy summers in the country right here in B.C. turned me off C&W. Too much of a good thing can be a bad thing and there were no alternatives to old time country and western music in those places then.

Got to it 32 tears late but this weekend I got to listen to Ian Tyson's "Old Corrals and Sagebrush." All sung under the big sky of Canada. I am not going to try and describe it any further than that. If you like cowboy music or if you are getting old and adventuresome enough to give it a try search this record out. It just might be the best fucking thing you ever heard.

Copy I have is on cassette and was released by Stony Plain Recording. Hitching Post Supply (I am not making this up) will be happy to supply you with a cd or two of Tyson's should you wish to contact them about making a purchase.

3 April 2015

We Got A Fight



Numbers do not fucking lie.

People like it best when I write directly about political matters. Too bad for them the Dope City Free Press mostly addresses political matters indirectly. This is, as ought to long be clear by now, a purposeful choice on my part.

I believe, for instance, we have all read so much about homelessness, we must surely be numb to the direct political message of the information that circulates and recirculates about The Situation. Better, I think, to write about my dog eating homeless peoples' shit in the woods near my place. Rather than presenting and representing the Homeless Count I think it better to assist you to taste the taste and smell the smell homelessness brings to our neighbourhoods.

The underlying direct political message, I hope, is all the more clear. Homelessness is a product of Capital, the rich, their courtesans and their teeming sycophants and it will not end until we Make Them stop it or stop them.