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Monday, December 28, 2009

Muse-ic Mondays: Issue 7

One thing I learned in 2009 is that my ears have a lot of catching up to do in 2010. I could fill a small city with all the artists that have been recommended to me or that I have been meaning to check out. Imagine that: A small city just brimming with musicians- some who will become your best friends, several you will meet only in passing, a loyal few who will help you through tough times, a dozen you will have a fling with, a handful you will fall in love with, many you could do without, and even more you will never meet.

Someday I will run that city, but until then I will leave you with one of my most surprising musical highlights of 2009:



I saw Jersey Boys (the story of Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons) back in August and I still find myself attempting to imitate Frankie Valli's falsetto in the shower.

What I've come to find is that people who haven't seen Jersey Boys will assume that it's too cheesy for their liking, but those who have seen it will tell you that it's pretty badass.

Yep, Jersey Boys is pretty badass. We're talking flashy strobe lights, flashier costumes, chain-smoking, smack-talking, and, as the show's disclaimer puts it, "authentic, profane, Jersey vocabulary."

And oh yeah, the cast knows a thing or two about carrying a tune.

The show even made me feel a little nostalgic. How could my tween self ever forget hearing "Big Girls Don't Cry" in the opening credits of Dirty Dancing or "Grease" in the opening credits of Grease for the very first time? And don't even get me started about "Can't Take My Eyes Off You." Lauryn Hill's cover of said song reminds me of every schoolgirl crush I've ever had.

All in all, I think the only problem I had with the musical was that the songs were just too damn catchy for my liking. And now I can't help but snap my fingers and do a little jive every time I hear a Four Seasons song.

Funny sidenote: If you catch the show in Toronto, something about it might seem a little distracting, especially if you are a fan of The Office. That's probably because triple threat Jeff Madden, who plays Frankie Valli in the Toronto production, looks a whole lot like funnyman Steve Carell. In fact, as I watched the show, both of my sisters sitting on either side of me kept whispering, "Is that Michael Scott?" That's what she said, indeed.

Thursday, December 24, 2009

HD Living

One of my family's holiday traditions isn't so much of a tradition as it is an inevitable occurrence that arises at almost every family gathering.

This occurrence is so frequent that my family has even given it an official title. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce to you High Decibel (HD) Living.

No flat-screen plasmas here, just a whole lot of noise.

Let me paint a little picture for you: Imagine a pimped-out car cruising down the strip on a Saturday night. It has shiny rims, tinted windows, and swirling colours that just scream "Look at me!" The subwoofer is pumping and you can feel your own eyelashes vibrating as it speeds past. Now imagine yourself inside this car, crammed among half a dozen sugar-high monkeys that can't sit still, can't stop talking, and can't stop changing radio stations every 30 seconds. They don't know which way is up or which way is down and they will remind you of this every chance they get.

Ok, perhaps I exaggerate a teensy bit, but you get the point. HD Living is all about keeping the gears churning, keeping mouths moving, and keeping limbs flailing. It's all about the actions and it's all about the reactions. It's modern jesting, it's Facebook poking for the real world, it's sticking a twig in someone's ear just to see what they'll do next.

Some background information: I have 5 older siblings (4 sisters, 1 brother) who are all very quirky and unique in their own ways. For example, and without naming names, some like to read whole novels aloud, some will break into song or bust out their best dance moves only at the most awkward of moments, some like to wake others up unnecessarily early in the morning, some like to start family rumours just for fun, and the list goes on.

Would you like to come over for dinner sometime?

Some of the characteristics of Marchildon-style HD Living include:
  • Yelling to family members in the basement from the second floor 
  • Trying to carry on a conversation through the floorboards
  • Repeating funny jokes until they are no longer funny
  • Clapping for all occasions- after finding out what's for dessert, after someone says something stupid, etc.
  • Overcaffeination and/or binge chocolate-eating 
  • Childish pranks
  • Randomly bursting into song 
  • Blasting tunes, good or bad
  • Attempting to breakdance
  • Performing dramatic, exaggerated impressions of other family members
  • Complaining about other family members to no one in particular
  • Yelling at the computer and other inanimate objects
  • Yelling about how annoying HD Living is and screaming for others to be quiet, thus further contributing to HD Living
  • Yelling
  • More yelling
  • General noisemaking
Oh wait, I think I hear a family member screaming for me a few blocks away. Yep. It's my sister. She's at Starbucks. She's telling me that my gingerbread latte is ready. Gotta go.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Muse-ic Mondays: Issue 6

I think I've wasted too much time staring deeply into Mr. Penguin's eyes. And now midnight is fast approaching and I have yet to write a decent music post.

It's the most wonderful hectic time of the year, but I'll make it up to you soon.

Can I leave you with Dallas Green's soothing vocals and call it a night?


And when the wind does blow against the grain
You must follow your heart

Sunday, December 20, 2009

Super kawaii

Good evening, readers. Let me introduce you to my newest pet.

No, I'm not a cat lady. No, a dog isn't this girl's best friend. In fact, I'm quite allergic to any furry, saliva-producing, dander-spreading pet, so this is sadly as close as I'm going to get to living with any animal other than my sister (har har).

And so, without further ado, I present to you Mr. Penguin: 

My cute little cube of joy

I adopted Mr. Penguin a few weeks ago from Yokoyaya, a Japanese dollar store in Vancouver. He's as light as a feather, he doesn't need grooming or a pooper scooper, and he always makes sure my cell phone is safe and cozy. Visitors fawn over him and he keeps me company as I write inconsequential blog posts.
 
What can I say, he was worth every one of the 200 pennies I spent.

[Side note: The day after I got Mr. Penguin, I went back to the store to adopt more of his family as presents for friends, but every penguin was gone. Sowwie fwends!]

Keeping on the subject of cuteness, anyone who has ever read my sister Sarah's blog or who knows anything about Japan can attest to the fact that the country is just brimming with all things super kawaii (cute).

Sarah recently sent me a letter from Japan in true 'super kawaii' style. The stationery was pink and full of smiling bees and happy, fluffy sheep:


As a bonus, it also featured a cryptic chunk of poorly translated text:


My initial reaction to this text was sure to get me on Santa's naughty list fast. Yet the more I pondered these awkwardly stitched-together sentences, the less coherent my own thoughts became.  

I'm sure it's just a poorly translated phrase about counting sheep...

...or is it?

Thoughts? Your guess is as good as mine.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Muse-ic Mondays: Issue 5

Every once in a while, MTV plays music. And every once in a while, it plays some pretty great music.

And sometimes MTV even invites the general public to watch this great music being performed live for free.

Last Wednesday, I headed down to the MTV Canada studios in Toronto to watch folk rockers The Wooden Sky perform on MTV Live.


The Wooden Sky played three songs, for two of which they brought their friends Evening Hymns on stage.

Even though putting on a Wooden Sky album may cause eyes to water, thoughts to rewind, and buried memories to resurface, the band's live performance felt quite moving in a refreshing, cleansing kind of way. Perhaps it was the Evening Hymns' additional vocals and instrumentals that made the songs feel a little less melancholy.

And isn't it just sweet as pie when musicians share microphones?

Ok, so the band only played three songs, but it was just enough of a music fix to float me through the rest of the week.



p.s. check out Songs & Cigarettes blogger Braden Rosner's article on The Wooden Sky's latest album in Death + Taxes magazine here. This guy knows his music (and he's pretty funny too).

Friday, December 11, 2009

Baby, it's cold outside

Music keeps me warm.

Here are two gems for your listening & viewing pleasure:






Happy Friday to all, and to all a good night.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Show me the movie

"What would you do if I died today?"

"I'd die tomorrow."


A lucky 13 days ago I was on a flight to Vancouver for my sister Anne's graduation from nursing school at UBC- congrats Anne!

As I stepped onto the plane and cozied into a coveted window seat, I must admit that I wasn't daydreaming about strolling oceanside, shopping on Robson, or stuffing my face with local food. No, I was thinking about something a little closer to home: The in-flight entertainment system just inches away from my nose.

Music obsessions aside, anyone who knows me knows that if my head isn't stuck in a book, if my eyes aren't scanning though magazines, or if my fingers aren't clicking through blogs, then my hands must be in the cinematographic cookie jar.

Yes, I was extremely excited to watch a film on the plane. There's something ego-boosting about watching a movie while cruising through the clouds and being served your drink of choice. It makes me feel like a celebrity. But then again, I sure paid enough to be treated like one- bring me more OJ!

So there I was, laid back, sippin' on gin and juice (minus the gin) and sifting through the movie selections, feeling light as a cloud.

But I didn't want to see just any old flick- I wanted to watch a film that would make me cry. It's true: I wasn't hungry for one of those free, individually-wrapped in-flight snacks (which, might I add, were never offered at any point during the 5-hour flight), I was craving catharsis. I hadn't seen an emotion-stirring, heartstring-tugging film in a long time and I wanted to be inspired; I wanted to feel humbled; I wanted to watch poetry dance in front of my eyes. Was that too much to ask for in a film?

Long story short, I didn't quite find the heartwrencher that I was looking for, but I did come across some of the most brilliant acting and cinematography I have witnessed in a long time.

Enter J'ai tué ma mère (I Killed My Mother):


Written, directed, and starring 20-year-old Québec native Xavier Dolan, J'ai tué ma mère is a semi-autobiographical coming-of-age story about a gay teenager and his rollercoaster relationship with his mother.

The premise seemed simple enough and perhaps it was. But as hard as I tried, I just couldn't seem to get into the storyline. I felt as though I was missing key pieces of information required to delve deeper into the characters' minds and really immerse myself in the film. I just felt like something was lacking plot-wise.

Perhaps viewing the film on a screen the size of my wallet skewed my experience.

Nonetheless, I couldn't peel my eyes away from the pint-sized screen. Xavier Dolan is a truly hypnotic actor. He knows how to scowl, scream, pout, and brood like no other. All at once, he's strong and vulnerable, confident and insecure, loving and sinful. He has piercing eyes and a puppy dog face. I want to hug him and I want to slap him. God, he's beautiful.

Anne Dorval, who plays Hubert's (Dolan's) mother Chantale, is equally as enchanting. She's cold and bitter, lonely and fragile, and painstakingly longs for requited love.

Not only is this movie chock-full of dynamic actors, but it's also stylistically stunning. The film's 'rule of thirds' framing, confessional style close-ups, and slow motion sequences are especially dazzling.

And props to the film for featuring the eerie "Tell Me What to Swallow" by Crystal Castles. Great soundtrack too- a nice interspersing of modern and classical music.

All in all, this is the kind of movie I would only recommend to specific individuals because it's not one of those films where I could easily predict if someone would enjoy it or not. But if you're up for some high-quality acting, Dolan and Dorval certainly raise the bar.

I'm excited to see what's next for Xavier Dolan. Stay tuned.

Monday, December 7, 2009

Muse-ic Mondays: Issue 4

I've been thunderstruck.

Last Thursday's Thunderheist concert at The Mod Club was quite the booty-shaking good time.

The last time I saw Thunderheist live was at Call The Office in London, Ontario. It was on a Tuesday night in early April, right before the impending doom of final exams. Compared to the Toronto show, it was much more intimate and much more x-rated. [Sorry, what happens at Call The Office stays at Call The Office, but here's a little taste:]

Thunderheist in London, ON

Yet there's something equally as appealling about being in a sold-out venue with hundreds or even thousands of hands waving in the air and clapping in unison. Sometimes it's nice to just take a look around and watch everyone move to the same beat. It gives me the warm fuzzies.

Thunderheist in Toronto, ON

Feel-good moments aside, I think the tameness of the show probably had something to do with the fact that Isis' parents were in the audience and that she kept mentioning said fact. She was also wearing a tight Beyonce-esque number that seemed to limit her movement.


Nonetheless, Isis' outfit didn't stop her from crowd-surfing and rockin' those sweet vocal chords of hers to the fullest. And Grahm Zilla was all smiles.

 

Venue big or small, I would highly recommend you slap on your finest crunk wear and go see Thunderheist live. Unfortunately, you might have to wait over a year to do so: Thunderheist recently announced on their MySpace page that they will be taking a break in 2010 to work on solo projects.

Until then, keep on jerkin' it.

Saturday, December 5, 2009

All of this town seems drunk tonight and I'm looking for your hand

What does it mean to forget someone? Everyone I've ever known lives on inside my head.

I wish I could tell my mind that there's no room left in the inn; I wish I could prevent every unwanted visitor from overstaying their welcome; I wish I could leave some room in there to remember who I am.

For better or for worse, you're stuck in my head. I can't seem to change that, so I might as well get used to it. And you might as well get comfy.

I'll leave a mint on your pillow.