What's that burning smell?

It’s no secret that I’m a relatively massive Toronto Maple Leafs fan. But I can assure you I never had designs on using this spot as a soap box to wax on and on about how great “my” team is and how bad other teams and their fans are. I certainly didn’t envision this blog as grounds to inform everyone what complete and absolute turds Montreal Canadiens fans are. But then this happened.

Let me see if I can wrap the old cranium around this one – try and break down this complicated and tumultuous situation.

Montreal wins their first round series by beating Boston in the seventh game (for those of you that don’t follow the game, there are 3 more series before any big trophies get handed out). Their fans - so elated and overjoyed with the outcome - proceed to burn down half of the city in celebration. Oh well – never really liked the town of Boston anyway.

Wait – what’s that you say? They were playing in Montreal? They burned and looted their own town? That doesn’t make any sense.

Or does it?

It does if you factor in one rather large cause – Montreal Canadiens fans are enormous douche bags of near epic proportions.

Now, to be fair, this sweeping generalization doesn’t apply to everyone (namely my father-in-law…Go-Habs-Go eh?). God knows there are cringe-worthy Leaf fans that inspire me to become a Blue Jays follower (just kidding). But Canadiens supporters elevate asshole fandom to new and despicable levels.

Take for instance their treatment of Habs captain Saku Koivu. A recent cancer survivor, Koivu turned in a rather heroic battle with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma back in 2000 - 01. He’s bled for the team and led them through both good and bad years and as the captain is a lightning rod should the team fail. So taking criticism from fans and the media is part of the job….except when you rag on the guy because he doesn’t speak French.

That’s right – separatists railed against Canadiens players – Kiovu specifically – because they don’t speak the official language of the province. I’m sorry – I was toiling under the impression that these were professional athletes and not members of the provincial parliament – je suis the asshole apparently.

This is a small taste of the ‘loyalty’ Habs fans show for their team. They will cheer on their heroes until their voices are hoarse – but will turn on them faster than Corey Feldman turned on Corey Haim.

This brings us to Monday’s high jinks. Now as a one off that sort of thing can be chalked up to a small group who got out-of-hand – and by out-of-hand I mean burned up 16 police cars 10 businesses. But this is a town that ranks riots just below poutine and right above sketchy facial hair. You only need to go back to 1993 when – after their team won the Stanley Cup – Habs fans celebrated by burning major portions of their city down. At least that time they waited until they had won something significant before they indulged their pyro fetishes.

Is it just me or is rioting after winning a sporting event akin to wrapping up your wedding ceremony by repeatedly punching our new spouse in the face? It makes about as much sense as a recovering alcoholic rewarding sobriety with binge drinking.

I love the city of Montreal -truly. Its got some of the greatest shops, restaurants and sites to be found anywhere in this country. I got my first tattoo there and also got engaged there. So I implore you Canadiens fans – stop trying to burn it down.

What happens when the music goes silent?

I was recently confronted with a tragedy that shook me to my very foundation - something so overwhelming and soul-crushing that I questioned whether I had the wherewithal to overcome it.

My ipod broke.

If this sounds dramatic and over-the-top then you are clearly not a denizen of the fine metropolitan that is Toronto. Ipod’s – or MP3 players to be fair – are as required for commuting through the city as legs. If you see someone on the TTC who doesn’t have wires extending from their ears – be suspicious, they’re not to be trusted and are probably terrorists.

So there I was ready to make my journey home the other night, about to tuck into a track by The Bravery (a very underrated band, but I digress), when I was struck with the realization – sound was only coming out of one ear.

I did what every audiophile does in situation like this – I jiggled the cord. I took the plug out and blew into the opening as if my breath would some how give it life. And as frustration grew I even gave it a few hearty smacks. But the reality was beginning to set in…this problem was beyond even my technical savvy.

As I realized I would have to complete my journey home without a soundtrack I became panicked. I looked at the useless dead weight in my hands and contemplated throwing it on to the subway tracks – a fitting outcome for its horrid betrayal – but better judgment won the day.

The rest of the journey was a test, as my ears were bombarded by all manner of new noises and sounds. There was the presaging voice – which I can only assume to be that of God – announcing every subway stop before we even arrived. There was the hub and chatter of the people on the subway and once above ground birds chirped in the trees and children’s laughter could be heard all around as the first days of spring blossomed everywhere.

It was horrible – I’ve never needed my ipod more. With all due respect to the unwashed masses, I’ve constructed a tidy little world in my head, and I like it that way. In all seriousness it does help pass the time when faced with the same journey day in and day out and the right song can change your spirits on a dime. There have been a few occasions when the right song has kept me from going shit-fit crazy on a cramped morning subway.

So now I’m faced with a grim truth, I’ll have to take it to the Apple store to get it fixed. Finding it shouldn’t be a problem – I’ll just follow the first Emo-looking super-douche with tight pants – as he’s surely on his way to ogle the new Macbook Air. And I’ll have to talk to one of their over-eager “Geniuses” (pretentious much?)…but that’s not the point. The point is my ipod is that important to me – more accurately my music is that important to me.

It’s fuel for my head on par with coffee in the mornings, as well as the calming voice in my ear that tames the rage. Like Richard Ashcroft said, music is power. And that’s one to grow on!

1,2,3,4...or What's wrong with Canadian music?

In honour of Leslie Feist’s big Juno win last week – I’ve decided to list four things that are currently wrong with the Juno’s and by extension – Canadian music. I could probably find more than four, but I’ve cleverly parlayed Feist’s iPod ad…err…song, into this blog posting’s raison d’etre.

Let’s start with the absurdly long list of award categories – 44 in total. I’m all for being inclusionary but this is reaching new levels of insanity. I’m half expecting to be contacted in the next few days to be told I’ve won a Juno – seems like everyone else got one. Here’s a sampling of the awards list


Dance Recording of the Year (this is dance music I’m assuming and not the recording of someone dancing to music)
Best CD/DVD art work design
Instrumental album of the year
Music DVD of the year (this one’s barely a music award)
Classical Album of the Year - Large Ensemble or Soloist(s) with Large Ensemble Accompaniment
Classical Album of the Year - Solo or Chamber Ensemble
Classical Album of the Year - Vocal or Choral Performance

Ok, that’s enough for now. But please understand that there are separate categories for pop, jazz, reggae, roots, world (whatever the fuck that’s supposed to mean), rock, hard rock, adult alternative (are you shitting me?) and alternative. And they in turn have their own sub-categories. Am I alone in thinking this is just a giant wank fest? Why don’t they all just stand in a circle and pat each other the back? These are coming dangerously close to those ‘participant’ awards they used to hand out in T-ball. You know, the ones that everyone got…for participating…including that strange guy named Warren who never played in a game and always smelled like pee.

At the end of the day, the more awards you hand out, the more watered down and meaningless an exercise this becomes.

Second is the shallow pool of artists who performed. Feist (bet she doesn’t get this chance as a member of Broken Social Scene), Avril Lavigne, Michael Bublé, Jann Ardern, Anne-f’ing-Murray…Jesus – just add the Tragically Hip and Bryan Adams and we can start a parade of predictability. Don’t get me wrong, I think Jann Arden is funny, self deprecating and a seemingly great person, but she would play your kids 10th birthday party for a slice of cake and the opportunity to tell a blonde joke.

Granted there were a slew of country performers that I have to assume people like and Finger Eleven has their following. But this list is as close to pandering as you can get. The may as well have dropped a banner behind them that read – “PLEASE KEEP WATCHING, KEY DEMOGRAPHIC OF 14 YEAR-OLD GIRLS AND MOTHERS.”

I’ll save you from the endless list of talented Canadian performers who released an album this year (Joel Plaskett, Stars) or are about to release one (Tokyo Police Club). Perhaps they think this is a shambolic mess as well and would sooner have their nuts trampled by angry horses, than share a stage with Avril Lavgine.

Number three is probably my favourite category of the night – Best International Album. But how – you may ask yourself – does this earn your scorn? Well, on the surface it seems harmless enough but the disappointment lies in its winner – Rhianna.

By its very definition the nominees could have been boundless. Strike that, they were bound only to this fucking planet! So upon scouring all the many countries of our world they came up with these gems: Bon Jovi, Fergie, Josh Grobin, Timbaland…and Rhianna? Coincidentally all of these artist currently hail from the tiny country the United States of America (yes Rhianna was born in Barbados)…it’s enough to induce an anger-stroke in even the calmest human being.

As if the entire awards ceremony wasn’t already a slobbering tribute to the U.S., they tart up the Most Popular American Album award, but calling it the International Album of the Year award. Oh Juno – you’ve pulled the wool over our eyes. Change the name of the award or actually find artists not from this continent (there are a few). Either way I don’t think you’re fooling anyone.

Last but perhaps not least is something that can’t be blamed on any of the artists who were nominated and in some ways is just an extension of my previous complaints. This award show is a giant and unabashed tongue kiss to the corporate sponsors and record companies.

Ever since CTV got their hands on it, it’s evolved (or devolved) into a glossy, name brand event with a red carpet and Canadian stars – and good for them. I’m not saying that’s a bad idea. You clearly want people to watch your show, and to do that you cater to the masses.

But in the same way that The Daily Show peppers a little education into the entertainment, couldn’t the Juno folks sprinkle a few more ‘musical’ acts into their show – perhaps lend it some credibility.

There are some things the Junos got right – including having Russell Peters host the event – but at the end of the day that really has nothing to do with the music. And when it comes to the music, you’re not doing any good or providing any credibility by packing your show with whoever’s popular at the moment.

Granted you want to bring in an audience, but once you have them why not take the opportunity to introduce them to some music they wouldn't otherwise hear? For every Avril Lavigne and Michael Bublé maybe throw in a Caribou, MSTRKRFT or Final Fantasy.

With a lot of very talented Canadian bands set to release new albums this year (Tokyo Police Club, Wolf Parade) it will be interesting to see which bands will be acknowledged by the Juno organizers and which will be ignored. I’d willing to bet that unless one of them sell a lot of records or somehow align themselves with an ad campaign you won’t see them picking up any statues.