Drawing lines in the sand

Slowly, taking baby steps, my laziness and PROcrastination is seeping outta me. This is probably the shortest gap in a long time, that I’ve had between posts. And its about time too; everyone’s due for another essay length post to waste their valuable time reading.

Well I’m in Dubai. Land of the Oppressed, Home to the Villas, Lamborghini’s, and other overpriced things. Filled with rich fiends who conveniently forget about the little people that built this place, it definitely is Meme-Central, and yells “Come to Dubai! We’ll pump excessive amounts of pampering that you really don’t need into your blood stream in exchange for your money, basic humane values, and freedom!” Of course, you won’t realize this while your relaxing in your $3000 suite at the Burj Al Arab, where your personal chef is flying down back to Canada to pickup Liquid Bragg’s Amino Acids to put into your steak for this evening. No big.

But I’m sure that’s not what whoever reads this damn thing wants to hear, you want to hear about me! Here goes, and remember, you asked for it.

The plane ride, in Business Class, was pretty cool but disturbing. Pretty cool cause of the little cubicle type thing you have, which is basically isolating you from everyone else (something I’m thankful for, sitting amidst snobby assholes), and a recliner seat that can massage you as well. The ICE system is standard in all classes, but your “idiot box” is bigger! You’ve got a whole storage area thing on your left, which luckily for me was under the window I spent hours looking through, and a little mini-fridge type shelf thingy. It’s hard to explain. And there’s a built-in footrest which can store your shoes in and blah blah blah. It’s nice, simply put. The disturbing part is all the unnecessary pampering and doting you get. As per usual, the sideburns automatically make me 21, and in the space of 5 minutes, I was offered champagne, wines to choose from some massive list, and orange juice, by three different air-hostesses. My reply, which stayed constant for anything unnecessary, is a smile and a no thanks, which is something they don’t get there. The rest of those bastard Business Class people, who are pretty much your Wall Street, Engineer, Lawyer, Doctor, Gold-digger who married rich, people who I cannot for the life of me stand, who’s bank accounts are experiencing exponential growth whereas their soul is decaying to the point of non-existence. You won’t see a smile, or hear a thanks, or a please from them at all. Basically any form of niceness. If the little cubicle thing I was shut into wasn’t isolated, I would’ve probably adopted Terrorism on the whole upper deck of the plane. These are the people, who in a perfect world, would be dragged out back into an alley and shot like dogs. Not to say that dogs should be shot, but you know what I mean.

It’s more spacious in real life, but that’s the gist of it.

Anymore talk of the flight and I’ll recall the unnatural, sickening smell in the air that everyone gets when they step into an airplane before it takes off. The food was good, 3-course affair, and I watched a few movies, saw a show of Radiohead with the Fleet Foxes and Andrew Bird, did some reflection and slept. That’s how you should treat long flights.

And also, from last year I believe my mom actually got an email from the company, saying that I can’t wear shorts and what not. It’s 2010, and stuff like this happens. I wore track pants…with shorts underneath. Just to spite them and feel good inside.

Finally arrived and got home, and had Arabic food after ages! Hummus never tasted so good.

Mum surprised us for the weekend; said we were going camping up in the mountains, which I won’t lie, I would’ve enjoyed, but instead she checked us all into a resort. First, the Fujeirah Rotana, which we’ve been to before and is pretty cool. Catching up to Jet Lag, hitting the gym, and having brunch is how I unwind.

I’ll post more info on the pictures I took later, but that’s pretty much the Rotana.

Checking out the next day, mom said we’d pop into the Meridien Al Aqah, the big resort hotel thing right next to the Rotana, for lunch. She then tricked us into believing that we were taking a tour of the Royal Club suites, and then slipped the room cards into our hands. We spent a night there, real nice place. As for what I did, same deal as the Rotana, Gym, Sleep, Pool, Eat.

I dug up my dads old camera, which turned out to be a Canon EOS 300 (Rebel 2000). 35mm film SLR camera, so I was pretty happy finding that. The pictures up here are taken from it, with some badly kept expired film hence the distortion and what not. Really ecstatic with what this camera can do, so expect more pictures!

Taking long walks early in the morning is a lot of fun, and though I’ve lived here all my life, the places I’ve seen in the past 2 days I have never ever seen before, and they’re practically in my “backyard”. I’m on a hunt to find a picture that will sum up the corrupt and rotten state Dubai is in, and missed a good one on Saturday. A worker or hobo covered up in cloth, sleeping on the bench of a multi-million dirham avenue park. I’m determined to find the shot I’m looking for.

In other, more important news, its March 16th. That means its the birthday of some special ladies of mine.

Happy Birthday Andrea & Elaine (see, you’re both separate individuals, not “twins”).

As you know, your letters are in the mail, and you’re now famous to all the 4 people that read this thing.

Also I missed Brent’s birthday since I was at the resort, so Happy Birthday buddy. We shall have cumulative parties when I get back.

And if my loser friends are reading this; HEY!

I miss you all, and need some Canadian air to freeze into my bones.

Stay tuned!

Danny

Out of Step (With The World).

I could argue forever about how everything and anything that you do is quite useless unless its experienced straight up; Being there, seeing it, experience is key in life, and I don’t need Brent or Andrea to confirm that. I think the hours of my motor-mouth that they’ve experienced has been enough for them, haha.

This weekend, I stopped being a minuscule hypocrite. I can vividly remember the summer of Grade 8 where I saw “Punk’s Not Dead” for the first time, and introduced me to the most wonderful music ever, though its debatable whether “wonderful” is accurate in describing it.

It’s been 2 years, and multiple screenings of “Punk’s Not Dead”, “The Filth and The Fury”, “American Hardcore”, “The Decline of Western Civilization”, reading a handful of books, and 100 gigabytes of music on my hard drive, and only after Saturday night did I realize that I’ve made it. The enlightenment I thought I had has been flipped off, in a good way. It’s been years of lurking, reading, studying, analyzing, listening, and Saturday night was the final step, to begin the journey. Let the paradoxes ensue.

Stuck In The City (www.stuckinthecity.ca) has been putting on Punk/Hardcore shows in Toronto for two years now. Discovering them through a MySpace of Toronto’s Punk/Hardcore scene, really makes me think of all the lucky coincidences I’ve had. After lurking for a year, putting off checking out the scene in worry that it would be just another bunch of Metalcore assholes trying to pass themselves off as an “angry man HARDCOAR scene”, and dampening my spirits because it wasn’t “what I saw in American Hardcore” left me with a bunch of knowledge, none that I would know was actually true.

Like Aaron from Bane would say, sometimes you just gotta take a gamble in life and deal with the consequences, a show pops up on a Saturday night, downtown Toronto. Now, I promise, I’m really gonna try hard and not makes this a novel.

After kilometers of walking and super sore feet, Brent and I reached Siesta Nouveaux, even before Greg, the dude who pretty much runs Stuck in The City got there. Everything from the typical punk rock chick greeting us at the door, to the size of venue screamed “D.I.Y” It’s always good to just take in your surroundings, and man did it get my heart pumping. 7″ Vinyl’s put out by local bands strewn across a makeshift table, dim lights, a compact but ancient P.A. system and stripped off painted walls; yeah, I was in heaven. I could only hope that the dream of a scene similar to the original Punk/Hardcore scene could actually be a reality, and I wouldn’t have to live in my head all of the time.

Greg turned up soon enough, exchanged some hi’s, and people started creeping in soon. It’s really something for two kids standing awkwardly in a corner, watching bands that would soon be tearing up the non-existent stage, move their gear into the venue from outside. I didn’t know most of the bands there till the night before, but I had my eye out for Lion of Judah and The Rival Mob, the latter being known as THE hardcore band to see.

Sometimes when you’re where you want to be, call it your ego or whatever you like, but there’s something inside of that stops you from doing certain things you want to do, even after all the effort you’ve put into getting to the place. I couldn’t be an anti-social chicken, and if I didn’t stick my hand out, introduce myself, and meet some people, I might as well have left. Greg was first up, and I got to thank him for the two years of “service” that he’s done, though this was my first time experiencing the fruit of his work. I’d say loom, but that’d be kinda weird.

After a while, and a steady build up of people, I didn’t think I could get excited. The first band was setting up, and I found myself surrounded by people who were genuine. Not fresh off the street gutter punx who were so full up of “ANTI-EVERYTHING” that their solution was to live on the streets and beg for money and beer, but real people. Not idiots who dropped out of school because they “hate the government”, real people. While eavesdropping, you can learn a lot. Greg’s in university, working on Journalism, and the guitarist from “The Proof”, who played first, his girlfriend and sister are into Molecular Biology and stuff like that. Way over my head, but comforting all the same. Weird.

Enough jabber, The Proof were on, and all of a sudden, that dream, fantasy-land scene and sound that I had in my head, wasn’t in my head. It was right in front of me, yelling at me at high volumes.

“The Proof” started off with some really interesting riffs and chords, keeping it fast, but intense and tight at the same time. From their super talented drummer, to their  vocalist who’s almost guttoral type “shouting”, they were a great warm up for the crowd. Young band, and they could only get better from here. The ancient P.A., yeah it was quite a let down. It was no match, volume wise, for the music, so a lot of the vocals were inaudible/not clear. I’m pretty sure the music got the message through just fine.

Next up were “Look Beyond”, and I won’t lie, I was utterly intimidated. The second these guys walked in, I got the goosebumps. Tall, heavy set guys, with black Jersey Jackets sporting “MONTREAL STRAIGHT EDGE” etched onto the back. These guys meant business, and I really thought they’d shovel out some ass-whooping. They played a really solid set, kept things interesting musically, and lyrically spoke about staying true to yourself and living clean. Not to mention the screwdriver shoved into guitarist Karl’s guitar, which fascinated me to no end.

After their set, I manned up and spoke to their guitarist. “Nice set man” was all that was needed, and soon we were talking music, the scene, and screwdrivers. It’s always cool to talk to someone who you thought you’d only see in some documentary your sorry ass would watch multiple times. Now that person’s in front of me, shaking my freakin’ hand.

Don't mess

Next up was Karl’s other band “Progression” which featured 4 members from “Look Beyond”. As he said, they were more structured, spoke more about being Straight Edge and not giving into to things pushed onto us by society, and very interesting riffs and licks. To top it off, they ended with a cover by a band called “Outspoken”, which was about women in the hardcore scene, and how they’re looked at as just objects. It was fit that he dedicated it to the women there as well, another surprising thing to see at the show.

After some more talking, to a guy called Mike (he’s the guy with the neck in the picture) and some other kids, the next band was getting started. Only till the vocalist got on stage did I realize that he was sitting next to me before the show had started, and was reading some interesting book. I wish I had known he was in the band. They came on, and just before starting you could tell these guys knew how to play their instruments. The bassist was shredding like there was no tomorrow, and moved up and down the neck with ease. “Give” started off, featuring members from Lion of Judah and Mindset, who didn’t make it to the show due to passport issues. Their vocalist, was loud, and had crazy projection. The whole band really got into it, and they were going crazy, not missing a note at all. They had a real cool style, they mixed in some melodic parts musically, but stayed fast and intense. The shouted vocals really sounded good with the intricate guitar and bass lines; I only wish the damn PA was louder so I didn’t have to strain to make out the lyrics.

Lion of Judah were up next, and I kid you not, EVERYONE got into the venue now. The place was seriously packed; it was barely possible to stand still with your hands and shoulders pressed up against your body. If you needed some personal space or boundaries in order to be safe, yeah that was gone. I had no clue where Brent was, and was suddenly pressed up by a bunch of chicks, who I won’t lie, I thought would beat me up. Not cause they looked it, but just them being at the show. Badass. The crowd found out that a bunch of LOJ members couldn’t make it, so they got a buddy in to fill in for vocals. They started off with “Preemptive Fear”, the first song off their LP “Universal Peace”. A lot of the kids knew the song, and during the chorus you could hear kids shouting along, “PREEMPTIVE, FEEEAAAR, DISILLUSION, PARANOIA”. It was really cool to hear the song being played live, and the vocalist really did well. It was really cool seeing the guitarist taking over for vocals during some songs, and seeing their buddy trying to learn the lyrics to it on the side, singing along as the band played. That’s how you get shit done.  They finished off a really tight and intense set, and if the first band hadn’t done it for me, LOJ certainly did. Hardcore is not dead, Punk is not dead. I really didn’t want the show to end. They ended their set with a cover, don’t know who the band was but it was called “Stand Up”. Not, it wasn’t Minor Threat, but the drummer from Rival Mob did the vocals on it, and holy shit. About 12 kids ran up and started a pile up, all reaching for the mic to add their voice into the vocals. Really crazy seeing that, the amount of energy and just raw, rawness, for lack of a better word, was something I’ve never seen or imagined to see at a show. This was real, all real.

This whole time, Brent and I were waiting for my buddy Kevin, who left his friends show to come and make it in time for this one. I left the venue to give him a call, and at the door there’s this HUGE guy blocking the way. As I move to the side he sticks out his hand and says “Hi, my name is Damien, what’s your name?”.

Yeah, I met Damien “Pink Eyes” Abraham from F****d Up. The front man Toronto’s “notorious truly”, winner of the Polaris Music Award, a band known for their straight up hardcore worldwide. Yeah I was overwhelmed, and had no idea what to say. He comforted me, said some amazing stuff, and this notorious guy as portrayed by the tabloids was a super down to earth, genuine person.

All in good timing, just as he left, Kevin showed up, in good time too.

The Rival Mob were setting up, and you could feel everyone getting ready. Thought it was a Straight Edge show, there were some non-edge kids there cracking open beers, but before Rival Mob, they threw all that away. People chilling outside started getting inside, finding the perfect spot. Kevin, who is a big “F****d Up” fan darted back out, and got Damiens’ autograph.

The lights were put dimmer, and Brenden, the vocalist from The Rival Mob started warming up; pacing up and down the venue. It was really something else to be standing a few centimeters away from a man in his element. He slowly started to take off layers of his clothing; I was scared. This guy can really be compared to Henry Rollins, the one true God, and his band? Well, just you wait.

The band was almost set up, and this guy was pretty much crouching down, swaying from side to side, squeezing on the the mic as if it were a Pool Ball that he wanted to crack open. He exuded this white hot intensity, you could feel it. Even during the other bands, there was this imaginary force around him, no one tried to push or touch him. Smart thing too, he looked like the guy who didn’t want to be messed around with.

The Rival Mob got their shit together, and Brenden started talking. Intense, funny, intelligent. You really had to be there to properly understand, it was quite phenomenal.

I had downloaded their EP “Raw Life” the night before the show, and was completely blown away. Right now, we are super desensitized as a society, and not much can really “shock” people. Believe me, this EP will. From the rawness in the guitars and drums, the emotion-provoking sound of Brendens’ voice, and the lyrical content, you’ll find it hard to keep your knuckles from turning white. I was hoping that they wouldn’t open the show with their title track “Raw Life”. It is by far, one of the most intense, moving, raw tracks I have ever heard. And when you check it out, you’ll know what I’m saying. If they opened with it, the place would have literally died after the energy release, so I hoped they wouldn’t.

They opened with “Cess Pool/Gene Pool”, and as soon as the first chord was struck, Siesta Nouveaux went absolutely berserk. All the energy from the previous bands of the night were all mixed up, almost sent down by God and given to each person in the crowd. From crowd surfing, to moshing, and slam dancing, no one got hurt, and that was THE way to release all their pent up anger, energy, or whatever. Then it got to the “breakdown”, which is the complete opposite of the bullshit BREAKDOWNZ that go on during Metalcore shows. No triplet chugging, double bass filled nonsense. The fast paced music slowed down, and I won’t lie, the only word I can think of, after taking it all in, is that it was sexual. There is this crazy pent up release, and when they slow down things really get hot. There’s almost this boiling, simmering pot of intensity that starts heating up when it slows down. It’s erotic. Then it explodes, and I kid you not, the place was in the air. Seeing a massive amount of kids pile up, screaming “NATURAL SELECTION FAILED” and lyrics questioning if humans are the ones supporting their own destruction; we are our own disease, you really know the definition of shock appeal again. Its 2010, and swearing, morals, and death are not something special or taboo anymore. But when you’ve got a band shoveling lyrics into your forehead, questioning scientific and psychological facts, and saying things that go against what we’ve traditionally learned, its almost as if its the 80s again and saying “Fuck” or “Evolution” was something taboo.

They tore up the rest of their, almost literally, the crowd was going non-stop. All I can say about myself is that I felt things I never felt before, and the energy you get at these shows is really, really overwhelming. I would’ve broken my fingers, clenching my fists so hard, if kids weren’t shoved into my path, that needed pushing away. Now, reality was better than some fantasy I had in my head. I was here, in the now, and completely satisfied. Brent, be proud.

After some amazing stories, jokes, and on-stage antics, their last song was up. You could still hear the crowd chanting “MOB RULES ALL” from the last song. That’s the Golden Rule, according to Mob fans. Finally, their last song was up, and after a nice segue joke, the intro guitars summoned the beginning to Raw Life. I exploded, the crowd exploded, enough said. The pile up? Massive. Gang vocals? All there, and louder than ever. The energy during that song was more than that of the whole night, really summing up the content of the song. It was soon done; the perfect way to end a show.

Raw Life

There’s a lot more to say, but I don’t think I need to. Hardcore and Punk are alive and kicking. The scene is beautiful, and man, I should really stop.

If you think hardcore or punk rock kids are ignorant, fuck you and fuck your music. Experience shit before you talk shit.

Stay real people, stay real.

Danny.

The Boy With The Thorn In His Side

Jesus of Nazareth, Christ of the Jews. The last post said it was about 4 months since I last posted; this one’s clocking in at almost a year! I don’t know if that deserves props, or a slap in the face.

I don’t know how a few posts can lead to 900 and odd hits, you people must really have no life. That or I really am just talking to myself, which is cool on its own, anyway.

Well 10 or 11 months have passed, and I hope that no one’s been pining on my absence from this nonsense of a blog. Some level I raise myself to, eh? So, it’s been, 10 months and 12 days since my presence here (thanks to timeanddate.com). That’s about 45 weeks. 318 days. Ladies and Gentlemen that is 7632 hours since you’ve last come on here, guiltily forced into it so as to not “hurt my feelings”. 7632 hours, that’s a big number. Like detail? 457,920 minutes. Yup. 27,475,200 seconds, to be painfully exact.

Where am I going with this?

Not so much where I’m going with this, more you. Take stock, ladies and gentlemen. It’s been 7632 hours since you’ve last come back for more. That’s a lot of hours, and an even crazier amount of seconds. What have you done with that? Have you planned it all? Made all those amazing goals that you promise yourself you’ll reach. They didn’t pan out so well, did they? Your cards didn’t show up with a full hand, did they? Did you pass the time that you potentially could have used to do what you really needed to do, jacking off and creeping friends you never talk to on Facebook? You didn’t unconsciously succumb and give in to every little pleasure that somehow seems to creep over your average life like your finger hovering over the buttons on your TV remote, did you? Don’t tell me, you didn’t think that it would actually make your life more exciting, did you? Giving in, is that now part of your repertoire? Of course, you didn’t think some challenge was any good, is it? You found comfort on your bed with your laptop, fingers typing away furiously, desperately trying to keep up with your communicative ways. You didn’t dig difficulty too much, did you?

You’ve had 27,475,200 seconds worth of living. Have you gained anything from what you did? Has it changed you in anyway? 27,475,200 seconds. Was it worth it? Has it made you anything, shaped you into something even your dreams couldn’t dream away, changed how you think; impacted you or anyone else?

You know the answer.

We’ve all progressed in these past 318 days. As limited as our “enhancement” may be, due to most of our average, normal, selfish like ways, we’ve moved on, changed, learned a thing or two, and soon forgotten it.

Has your favourite, random blog master, uber l33t internet friend changed? More than you can think, and if you hadn’t figured that out so far, well, I can’t think of something in-your-face to say.

I’d stay tuned, because things are going to get angrier, thought-provoking, intense, gut wrenching, heart breaking, motivating, and titillating. Like rants? Enjoy, cause anything and everything will be up.

318 days. Who are you?

Take stock.