Sunday 2 October 2011

I'll ask the questions around here: Tiny Danza and Brock McLaughlin

My first encounter with Toronto's Tiny Danza was on the YouTubes. I'd heard of the band but was always quick to dismiss them because I assumed they were a joke band or a parody. When I actually listened to Beat Fly for the first time, my mind was blown.
I met Andrew Craig outside of Lees Palace on Bloor Street. We chatted a bit on the street and stepped into the venue for a drink. Honestly, I was a little confused. I expected someone else.  The guy before me was dressed casually in a white oxford shirt and tie with a black fedora, and I just couldn't figure out how someone so little could produce such a big sound.  So I asked him point blank, "How does a skinny white guy like you sing like a 300lbs black woman?" He laughed and told me that he draws all his inspiration from the city and world he lives in. Craig says he's tired of living in an apathetic city (Toronto) and wants to affect some change through his singing. "It's the way I get my anger out; it's my creative release" he says. "I've got anger issues. Singing soul music makes me feel better. Soul is so honest and full of emotion, it's not cheap and disposable like pop music is today."
When Galen Hogg, Matt Russo and Andrew Santaguida join us at the table, the whole mood lightens as the four friends start cracking jokes. Tiny Danza have all known each other since they attended the Etobicoke School of the Arts together.  The group and I hang out and chat for a bit. I ask them how touring interferes with their personal lives. Collectively, I'm told that it's never really been a issue. Their parents and friends have always been supportive, and girlfriends know that when you get involved with a musician you can expect long hours, unpredictable schedules and screaming fans. A very succinct answer from a gang of jokers. The core of the crew met in high school and have been performing together off and on in various capacities since then.  Andrew and Galen were both part of the rap group Half Life when they  lived in Montreal years ago. The group as we know it now came into existence in 2006 when during a jam session Galen showed up for the first time, bringing his "A" game and changing the whole dynamic of the band forever. "Galen fucked it all up and we just couldn't turn back after that" says Santaguida playfully. From the conversation I also glean that their awesome single Beat Fly won a competition to be featured on Rock Band for Playstation 3 and Xbox 360. Very cool.
As we continue to talk I get the feeling this isn't the first time they’ve had to answer these typical interview questions. Tiny Danza are nice boys though and they continue to humor me as I stumble through the interview. I decide to ask them about their current manager, Brock McLaughlin, formally of Bent Penny Records.
Well, speak of the devil and he shall appear - in this case, wearing a fire-engine red smoking jacket.
Brock introduces himself to me with a firm handshake and a toothy grin. He exudes confidence and I suspect that I might get pregnant just by standing next to him. (The band) one by one politely excuse themselves and make their way to the back of house to get ready for their show. I'm left alone with Brock and we start to chat. We talk about the band and the music for a while before I ask him about him about how it was that he started in the music business. But before he could answer, two girls walk over to us, eyeing Brock hungrily. The short one wants to introduce Brock to her friend. He plays it cool-like, being very grateful that they came out to the show to support the bands. Eventually they leave and I laugh a bit to myself. He's like, "What?" half laughing too. I'm like "Oh Brock!" in a high-pitched voice, holding my hands up to my face like a lovestruck fan. He laughs and tells me in a matter o’fact way that it happens all the time.  Explaining further he says, "Twitter. It's raised my profile so much that I have fans now.  It's funny how social media elevates people to this kind of status." Now a bit more curious I ask, "How did you expand your following so quickly?" He says that engaging his audience is an important part of establishing a brand and public profile, and networking with everybody in all industries is important because you never know who you will meet and how they can be used in business. For example, "Casie Stewart has been a huge help in plugging me into the right circles to promote my work. I owe a lot to her."
Brock goes on to say that he's an import from Van city and came out to Toronto to pursue a job working for         Much Music. Eight months of interviews later he was running out of options and needed to start working. Landing a gig at Bent Penny, McLaughlin climbed the ranks and settled into an A&R position. Once there however, he quickly outgrew the job and decided to go out on his own.  He took on the epic task of starting up his own management company and now has a small roster including Tiny Danza. Brock is poised to take over the music industry because at 21 years of age the whole world is laid at his feet.  On the topic of success Brock has some wise words for me, "You gotta fake it till you make it." I can agree that when you’re young, ambitious and dedicated, not much can keep you down. With Brock McLaughlin at the helm Tiny Danza is on the precipice of greatness. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for one of Toronto’s best indie bands.

Sunday 4 September 2011

Hey, don't be a dick!

I recently bumped into an old friend. We grew up together in North York and I hadn't seen him in something like 12 years. I greet him warmly and we both agree to catch up over some cold beers.We head to the closest watering hole for suds, the 'Shoe on Queen st. I love this bar. It's one of the coolest dive bars we got in Toronto.
We walk in to the joint and the smell hits me in the face, like a brick soaked in beer and piss. Walking towards the back of the bar the music gets louder because a local five piece is doing their thing on the stage at the rear of the house.My buddy and I grab some '50s from the bartender who by the look of it, has seen better days. We settle into a banquette along the corner of the bar and I ask him what he's been up to and where he's been since last we'd seen each other
  He goes on to tell me that hes been in Israel serving in the army for the last 3 years. My mind is blown. This fucking guy is the last fucking guy you want with a gun, let alone in the army with access to guns. I'm so gobsmacked that I can't even get my shit together to ask him "How the fuck did this happen?"  Which is good because he goes on to spin the most ridiculous yarn I've ever heard, a real whopper.
He starts by telling me "Something like ten years ago I went to Israel and found God there." I cold laugh in his stupid face. This putz sitting across from me hadn't changed one bit. When we were growing up, he went to a Hebrew private high school. Every time he got too high, he got all religious and would swear to God that he was going to change his ways. This happened too many times to count and I just couldn't take him seriously. I mean, I've actually seen him do rails off a strippers ass, no foolzies.
I stop laughing long enough for him to tell me that he was briefly engaged and the woman that he was going to marry called off the wedding two weeks before the ceremony because her mother no longer approved of him. He went on and on. It was a lot of fun to sit and chat with him because of all the good old times we had had.  Then I realized we no longer have anything in common. I start to tell him about my wife and kids and what it's been like to have a family. He politely listens and waits for me to finish before asking me, I shit you not,  "How come theres no hot bitches around?"  What does one reply to such an eloquent question? I tell him "Um its Tuesday night, the hot bitches don't come out till Thursday."  He laughs and reaches for his ringing cell phone, in his breast pocket.  He gives some lousy directions to someone and ends the call. "This girl is coming to meet me here, man.  She's so hot. Eighteen, man." he adds with a stupid smile," and I think I love her." I'm like, "You just got here last Thursday night, you met a girl and you're already in love with her?" He goes, "Wait till you see her,  I met her at the airport."
I'm already picturing this gross pig. When she arrives, I'm not even surprised. She looks like a straight up hot dog with tits. And the fashion sense is amazing, too. Not to get too specific but her toes were hanging so far over the edge of her shoes, that it looked like they were holding on for dear life. Wow, just wow. After having a couple more drinks, I couldn't stomach it any longer. In all this time he hasn't changed one bit.  The shit this guy was saying made me sick. He's still doing coke off of strippers sticky, glitter covered bodies.  I can't listen to the way guys talk about girls anymore.
 Is the world completely overrun by dicks? I hope not, for my babies' sake. I hope that some men are teaching their sons about how real men treat women. I mean, aren't there enough assholes in the world already? Lets work together to ensure that the future isn't a total Mike Judge movie. Force people around you to grow and to live up to their potential. It's literally the least you can do.

Tuesday 30 August 2011

I'll ask the questions around here! Dine Alone Records' Joel Carriere

If you walked down Gerrard St. east of Parliament, you would never know that inside one of these townhouses big things are happening, huge things.  Joel Carriere of Dine Alone Records sits down with me at his Toronto office and talks about the state of music today and what it takes to run one of Canada's best Indie labels, ever!
 When I walk into the great Victorian home, the first thing I notice in the foyer is a platinum record of the City and Colour hit album "Sometimes" hanging off the wall next to another platinum record of "Crisis" by Alexisonfire. Boxes of future hit records are stacked against the opposite wall lining the hallway, no doubt waiting to be shipped out to local record stores and abroad. Joel walks out from behind a corner greeting me in his stocking feet, gesturing me to follow him past the awesome archway in the hall,  up the narrow staircase to his office on the second floor. Outside the door to his office, hanging on the wall, is yet another platinum record - this time of Alexisonfire's "Watchout" album, my personal favorite of the band from St. Catherines.
Joel is in repose, chilling out on a couch in his office as I sit across from him in a comfy leather chair. His laidback attitude is comforting and catches me off guard. He reminds me of Han Solo, ready to negotiate the  cost of a trip from Tattione to Alderon. "So, what do you want to know?" he asks. The speed at which he goes from casual rock nerd to business savvy record man is break neck. Way faster then the Kessel run.
I too, waste no time and jump right into an offensive attack position worthy of any x-wing pilot.
I fire at Joel, "First thing I wanna know is how did a punk from St. Catherines get here?" His response comes as a surprise to me, "I'm not a punk, I'm into alternative music." He goes on to say, "I started a website that let people from Ontario to as far as Buffalo know about what shows were coming through our cities. The site had a very active community and message board that gave fans a voice about what music they liked and were listening to. I got the feeling that people were missing these great shows because the level of promotion the shows needed wasn't there. That gave me the idea to fill a niche in the market for local and otherwise unknown bands." He rubs his hands on his face while telling me about kids in basements of churches and half empty halls. Joel goes on to tell me about when he worked at a local record store back home where he met a dude that worked in the same mall, Dallas Green. "Dallas was working on his City and Colour  project and  I really liked his music. I started managing him and his other band Alexisonfire. In partnership with Greg Below of Distort (Entertanment),  we started Dine Alone Records together but realized that we had different ideas of what we wanted out of our partnership, so soon after we parted ways amicably. I continued managing AOF and Dallas (Green) while also being able to release their follow up record 'Old Crows/Young Cardinals' under the Dine Alone Records banner." Business savvy indeed.
   I ask Joel why he feels that he has done as well as he has in an industry that's famous for chewing people up and spitting them out like a Bazooka Joe gum that loses its flavour too soon. His answer is simple, "Its 'cause I give a shit about what I'm doing and how I'm doing it. If my goal was to make money and play it safe I'd only have one act that paid well and produced steady hits. I take risks with bands I believe in". Joel adds that  "integrity and morals are more important to me than making a buck." When he tells me this industry cliche, I actually believe him. It's the way he says it, with conviction. I feel like it's par for the course (for managers) to tell bands that integrity is important to the label and the fans but if you've ever seen This is Spinal Tap, you already know that integrity has no place in the music business. Alternatively, Joel's stripped down approach is  working for Dine Alone.
 "The emphasis is and has always been on music." he tells me. "We give our artists the control to take their music and creativity into their own hands, for the most part," adding, "Sometimes it works out, sometimes it doesn't" with a shit-eating grin.  "Like the Black Lungs video "For Her" (watch here)," I say. "Yeah, that video was a waste of money. We let the artist take control on that project and even Wade (MacNeil) will say that video was embarrassing. This whole thing is a series of lessons. If I or my team make a mistake, we learn a lesson. As long as it doesn't happen again, its a good mistake" Carriere told me. "I take risks to challenge the status-quo."
 "So that's work, what about home life?" I ask. Now the casual music nerd shows up for a brief second. "Being married to Josie (Dye of 102.1 the Edge) is great. Her and I are both very driven and dedicated people. Its very tactical at times for us to spend time together because I might be on the road touring and when I get home she has to go to Miami or New York for her work on Cosmo TV."  Joel loves Josie. It's obvious. He tells me that between work and home he is living the dream. We should all be so lucky.
 The one thing that Joel keeps telling me through the whole time I'm there with him, is that his staff are the real reason Dine Alone has been so successful. "Everyone in entertainment is a crazy genius, it's where you apply your genius that makes the difference. My staff are all crazy passionate about the work. They believe in the bands, the bands believe in the label and the label believes in the fans. Its all circular and it has a way of working out." With all the whirlwind success he has achieved he accounts for it all by saying "It's happened because of baby steps, strategic little baby steps."
As far as the future is concerned, the business savvy record man Joel Carriere is "Cautiously Optimistic".

Be sure to vote for the Dine Alone family of music in the upcoming  2011 CASBY awards Casbys Nominees and voting
For more info on Dine Alone click here

Sunday 28 August 2011

I'll ask the questions around here! Speakeasy Tattoo's Lizzie Renaud

        It seems that this city has an abundance of tattoo shops. One thing that most shops have in common is staff that make you feel like shit if you don't have your face and neck tattooed. Not the case at Speakeasy Tattoo, located at 299 Harbord Street in Toronto, Ontario. This past Sunday, Speakeasy paired up with Sam James coffee company to celebrate two great years of making the greatest coffee the city has to offer. Speakeasy was offering $50 coffee mug tattoos to mark the occasion. I sat down with Speakeasy Tattoos' co-owner Lizzie Renaud and talk about tats, bad attitudes and being neighborly. When I walk into the small unassuming shop on Harbord, I feel like Norm walking into Cheers. It's nice to go into a tattoo shop and for the people there to greet you as a customer instead of grading you on how many tats you have or who did them for you. When I asked about the subject of tattooing walk-ins, Renaud responds while drawing smallish cute little coffee mugs," We love that shit, man! Its our bread and butter." Lizzie went on to say that "Most shops don't like to do flash or smaller tattoos, but we put just as much effort into an original pieces (of art) as we do into wall flash. We don't assign a "cool" quotient to our clients, we tattoo because we love our craft." This is what you wanna hear from a tattooist though sadly you don't hear it too often.
     A recent line up change at the shop has separated the wheat from the chaff, leaving a stronger staff more focused on creating amazing tattoos without any of the bad attitude associated with tattoo culture. Lizzie herself draws customers in on reputation alone. Trust me, I haven't had work from Lizzie yet but I'm eager to remedy that soon. Also at the shop is one of my favorite artists, Jen M. who has done work on me. If you see me around, ask about my favorite tattoo and I'll show you what Jen did. Rounding out the Speakeasy roster is Adrian, co-owner Hayden's younger brother and maybe the most promising artist of the bunch. The three of them together will royally fuck shit up in the tattoo scene in Toronto.
      Speakeasy Tattoo has become somewhat of a family business as Lizzie has brought her younger sister Monique aboard to run the managerial side of the shop. A dead ringer for a still-cute version of Anne Hathaway, Monique is the coal that keeps the shop's engine running smoothly. "Having my sister here is really making it easy for me to leave the shop and know it's in good hands. I hope to return to Europe for 3-4 months" says Lizzie. "I want to work at some other shops (in Holland) as a guest artist and pick up more technique and work on my art.  I will never close Speakeasy.  Its my home and will always be home base to me".
    When asked about what's in store for next season a wicked little smile crosses her face." I'm excited about having a couple of great guest artists in the shop, including Miles Carr from Three Kings Tattoo in Brooklyn." Lizzie goes on to say, "I love this time of year. School starts and all these kids have OSAP money burning holes in their pockets. Money they don't spend on books and beer they spend here. We start to take on a lot of clients in the winter months, so we encourage people to book well in advance."
    Lizzie's motto when it comes to customer service is simple; "If you're going to treat people like shit, you can expect them to tell as many people as possible about their bad experience at your shop. I don't give a shit about attitude, you can't buy credibility. Be cool and you'll get a great tattoo, if you're a tool, you'll still get a great tattoo but you might not be welcome back for your next piece. For the most part, I'm grateful for our clientele. I feel lucky to have them. They all rock!" Truer words were never spoken.
I foresee great things in the future for Speakeasy Tattoo.
Down with bad attitudes, up with great art!
Here are some tips from an artist on how to approach getting a new tattoo;
* Don't rip off other artists' flash and try to get it done somewhere else for cheaper.
* Don't be a flaky jerk when setting an appointment. If you think that you might not be able to make it to your appointment don't book. Its taking up valuable tattoo time from someone that CAN make it.
*When picking a tattoo or developing a concept do your own thing. Don't worry about what others will think about your tattoo. You're the one whose gonna live with it!

I took a ton of great photos but I shoot 35mm so they will be up soon. 

Tuesday 23 August 2011

Put down the lightsaber already!

   "Daddy, lets watch Star Wars." Words that would make any father proud. Especially coming from a 5 year old girl in a full length gown, wearing a tiara. It wasn't always this awesome in our house. It used to be a numbing haze of nauseating animated jerks. As well as a metric shit load of day-glow molded pink  plastic garbage. I accepted early on that our children wouldn't be playing with GI Joes or He-Men action figures.What I couldn't swallow was having to endure the wispy dummies that they pass off as heroins in those vapid feature films. The Ariels and Cinderellas. Those skinny bitches and their vermin pals, how I hate them. 
The only lessons they ever taught my little lass' was that one day, if you're pretty and dumb enough, a man will come along and take care of you. These were not the kind of virtues I wanted to instill in my girls.
It was a long and uphill battle with my wife. Her argument was always "These were the movies that I watched  growing up and there's nothing wrong with me!"  Every time that little nugget of wisdom was used, it effectively put our conversation to a dead stop. I love sex too much to get into the thick of it with her . I'd have to bide my time. 
One Sunday morning, Spike was running their Star Wars marathon, which of course, I watched all day in my underwear. This is obviously the preferred technique for maximum enjoyment of a TV marathon. I had no idea what was about to happen. I would never have predicted that Phia would climb onto the couch and snuggle up next to me. She had never shown any interest in anything other than a Disney Princess before. "Daddy who is that?" she asked.
"That's Princess Leah, baby." I replied.  That's all it took. 
Now I can't tear her away from the Princess who shoots laser blasters and hatches battle plans with Wookies.  I am so happy she's found a role model that isn't a bimbo. It means a lot to me that she grows up as an empowered young woman, a slave to no man, free to roam the galaxy as a wanted smuggler and degenerate gambler, indebted to  space mobsters. 

Monday 22 August 2011

Cram a sock in it!

   Sometimes, going out in public with two young children (shudder), is like leaving the house with a bomb strapped to your chest. This bomb has no timer or trigger. It just goes off, exploding in your face.
I go to the  local mall with Phie, then age three now age five, to buy some socks at Wal Mart. While standing in line, between nose picking and babbling to herself,  she spies something shiny with tired, sleepy eyes. She takes two steps, reaches out, and grabs a sparkly package in her sticky fist . " I wann' it!".  "No, sorry baby. We're here for the socks not candy."
     The flash is so  bright and fast, it takes me a moment to realize whats happened. I'm not getting new socks. Change of plans. I'm 270+ lbs. I've been told I can be quite intimidating. And I'm pleading with a little girl, with bows in her hair. This fight is fixed. Shes gonna win. I "remove" her from the situation, meaning I leave the coveted  20pack on  the conveyor. Scooping her under my arm, I leave, without the prize. This is how I discipline. Time outs and threats of no dessert.  I'm tough but fair, I think. 
   But these other parents. These jerks, who let there children run around, wreck shot all over the place, that last time I checked, wasn't a park or play structure. Kids are in control. and as parents, we are basically powerless to do anything about it. Not like the way our parents doled out discipline. 
  My background is old-school European. Smacks where not uncommon at my house growing up, in the '80's.When I was born, the spare room was a bar. A place my hipster mom and dad had drinks and took long, deep draws from unfiltered cigarettes. They never really changed the room after I arrived save putting a crib across from the bar fridge. I grew up listening to the gentle hum of a compressor while i slept. When I was four or five, my folks had a party. The guests brought their children. The unsupervised kids were to play together with  the toys in my room. Instead, all the neighbors kids drank from some Irish Creme that was in the fridge in my room. It was ugly. I wont get into the details, but needless to say, I was reprimanded.
   My mom used to make me fill in the squares on graph paper in a checker pattern as punishment .The worse the infraction, the more papers I had to fill out. I spent many a beautiful Saturday afternoons, in my room filling in squares. Again tough but fair. Just to be clear, my rents took no shit. If  my sister or I got outta line, we got the business.
     Cant do that anymore. Not even as a last resort.and kids know this. So now, those little pukes that run around in movie theaters, grow up to be teenagers without a clue of how to behave in public. And I'm a douche if i tell your little gremlin  to "Please be quiet and  sit down". Moms and dads have lost their balls. No one yells at their kids anymore.
  I don't know what to do either. If your reading this waiting for some secret knowledge I uncovered, your going to be disappointed . I'm lost too.
  But as one parent to another, when your kiddies start to melt down, don't just stand there carrying on like its normal for a child to start throwing tantrum on the floor  and knocking products off of store shelves.Its not. Its annoying and loud.  Take them home, or tell them to "Shut the hell up and behave." Either option is  acceptable. I favor screaming at kids in public, though. It lets other parents know its OK to expect your kids to be normal sauce.  

Friday 19 August 2011

No, you shut up!

   One thing I realized about living in this city, is every damn person believes that you are entitled to their opinions, whether you like it or not. Aah, free speech, the last bastion for the incurably stupid. I'm glad we Torontonians live in a city where all ideas, no matter how asinine, are voiced and heard. Sometimes though, I wish people would keep their dumb traps shut (irony)!  We all need to take a collective deep breath and think about what we are saying and whether or not it's important enough to say at all.
   I don't care if you would fuck whoever, marry who gives a shit and kill some dumb schmuck that you wouldn't even theoretically fuck or marry. SHUT THE FUCK UP, seriously!  If you absolutely have to have a meaningless conversation in public, have the common decency to keep the decibel level to a hushed incoherent mumble.
    Occasionally, a brave but misguided fool at the end of their rope will nut up and lay into these yammering CHUDS. The result of one of these outbursts is anything but well received. Faint war drums are heard in the distance, a call to arms is declared. I've personally been on streetcars that have erupted into full scale war zones. Water bottles start flying and crumpled newspapers are hurled along with clever insults like "Hey sweatbags, I really like your mustard stain" and "Nice tits, buddy!". Sometimes even dukes are raised and fisticuffs ensue. Never a good sign, as innocent bystander are oft caught in the crossfire.
  Why can't we, as a society, wrangle up these Morlocks and send them back to the sewers where they belong, leaving us peaceful Eloi to bask in our utopia? Well, the answer is simple. That would be fascism. Just because people are ignorant doesn't mean they don't have the right to be themselves. Not everyone is entitled to do or say whatever they want, whenever they want to. People need to treat each other with respect no matter how stupid and obnoxious we are or can be. We need to hold ourselves to a higher standard. On the whole, we need to talk less and say more.
Side note; if you've ever been concerned about your carbon footprint, why don't your hold your breath until you pass out. Save your breath, save the planet.