Dr. Andrew Weil made a double CD in 1997. Music "made" by a guru of alternative medicine -- I expected Indian drone instruments and nine hours of humming a single note. Actually, "Sound Mind, Sound Body" (or was it "Sound Music, Sound Mind" or ... oh, who cares what the exact title was) is 99% propaganda. One CD was mostly spoken word by Dr. Weil's friends, outlining their medicinal theories while speaking so slowly it makes "Eyes Wide Shut" seem like an afternoon at a cattle auction. The other CD was intended as healing through sound. From the extensively detailed liner notes, I surmised that the listener was meant to feel the vibrations, and the body would synchronize itself to the resonances, and heal itself, or something to that effect. But the music was an ordinary excursion through "themes" of Bach, Mozart and other mega-famous classical composers. Jeez, since that music is more than 200 years old, people must have been healing themselves with it for at least that long, in which case why on earth would anybody need to buy a CD from Andrew Weil? Millions of people have found themselves transported by Mozart's music, and they certainly didn't need Andrew Weil's approval. If they didn't want to make a recording of hundreds of people saying "AHMMM", if they wanted to put out a CD of classical music, wouldn't the music of a composer such as Debussy (La Mer) or Satie (endlessly repetitive piano pieces) have been more appropriate? If they REALLY wanted to convince anybody that music has the power to disrupt body chemistry, record some SCHOENBERG for God's sake!! I guess they figured that hardcore Andrew Weil fans would buy any CD with his name on it no matter how low the musical quality, hell, Limp Bizkit rode that pony to the tune of a million sales last week.

This weeks' purchase of Jeff Mills' "Live at the Liquid Room, Tokyo" was both elating and deflating for me. Elating because it is FREAKING AWESOME as our hero slams through the techno equivalent of the world's biggest gangbang with an incredible 38 tracks packed into 70 breathless minutes. Deflating because I clearly remember when this album was released *five* years ago. I remember thinking about buying it. Sometimes I had other musical priorities and would forget look for it and when I did remember it was always too expensive or some other excuse. I always kept my eyes open for his DJ appearances, and was finally all set to see him in January 1999 before a brutal snowstorm prevented me from doing it. I have yet to see Jeff Mills live. And now, even though I have his Axis compilations, even though I own a sick amount of minimalism, I willingly deprived myself of this album for five years.

George Michael commented the other day about the sorry state of British music, about how companies were signing "pretty young things" and not real songwriters, and he criticized the music listening public all over the world by saying that what they were listening to is crap. These comments are getting some publicity, mainly because it is George Michael, not because George Michael is a person with anything remotely interesting to say on the state of the music industry. Sure, it's true that minimal talent and a tight ass are big sellers these days, but let's face it, when has this NOT been true? Does anyone think for a single second that if Elvis or the Beatles or the Supremes or Michael Jackson had been 400 pound slobs with harelips that they would have become stars? Does George Michael really believe that Wham was signed because they were bright young songwriting talents, or because they were good looking teenagers that were marketable to a British public that adores it's squeaky-clean, made-for-tabloid popstars? George Michael is a wanker (pun very much intended) who is using his recent publicity as the buyer of John Lennon's "Imagine" piano to get on his soap box and pretend that anybody still cares about his opinion, all in the name of boosting his profile and (hopefully) his CD sales. Come on, Georgios, the current trend of Mickey Mouse pop will run it's course of mainstream mega-success, just like grunge, new wave and disco, just like all musical trends do, just like just like your career already has.

In the fall of 1994, I had a brilliant idea. While enjoying a passionate affair with Pulp's "His 'N Hers" album for most of that season, I couldn't help but hear something more than the obvious kitschy brilliance. I heard a musical. Not just any musical, but a musical based on the songs of "His 'N Hers". I used to pop the tape into my walkman and dream about it. Vaguely speaking (and truthfully, my adaption never went beyond the "vague" stage) it was an English version of "West Side Story", featuring the riff raff of Sheffield's underbelly. The hero (I never did come up with names for any of the characters) was a boorish thug who, along with his gang of similarly minded friends, did his damnedest to cause trouble, and treat women like Kleenex ("Joyriders" is the gang's mission statement -- serving the same function as "When You're a Jet"). Then, he falls in love and sees how the other half lives. It tears him apart that he loves her and yet she's hung up on other men who treat her like garbage (in the same way that he has been doing all of his life -- cue "Have You Seen Her Lately?"). He becomes a sentimental, whimpering shell of his former arrogant self (bring on "Pink Glove"). Of course, this musical can't have a happy ending. For one thing, "Happy Endings" foretells a conclusion which is never due to pass (smell the irony), and besides, "West Side Story" didn't have a happy ending, did it? Whatever their names are, the people featured throughout "His 'N Hers" are endlessly fascinating. This album is an untapped source of high musical drama, while the lyric sheet is practically it's own libretto.

My ideas may be six years old, but "Mamma Mia" made it to the stage first. It bears mentioning that I LOVE Abba's music, and I finally saw "Mamma Mia" last night. On one hand, Abba songs are pop music of the first order: exquisite specimens of melody and harmony and insatiably catchy to boot. On the other hand, the lyrics are not-so-exquisitely crafted by people with a limited grasp of the English language. Combined with a sparsity of topics beyond love and lost love, this makes a collection of these songs in-adept at telling a story, which means that Abba songs have no place in a musical. Watching the pathetically thin plot unfold while Abba songs were grafted on like tin foil to shag carpet ranged from awkward to embarrassing. And it is certainly NOT all in good fun, if it were SUPPOSED to be all about the songs, then we should be seeing an ABBA covers band, not a musical in which some semblance of drama and suspense and plot resolution and character development are to be expected. It all amounts to little more than karaoke with an extravagant budget. What's more, this production knows it because it does it's damnedest to distract you from what's being sung on stage -- from the over-the-top dancing in the background to the brightly coloured 70's jumpsuits to the men dancing in wetsuits and flippers -- all of it serves to provide fleeting entertainment value at the expense of having to pay any more attention than one would while watching showgirls in Vegas casino.

I won't quibble anymore (OK, maybe just a bit -- you'd figure they could find decent male singers, but maybe I'm wrong) but the take home message is that "Mamma Mia" offers Broadway-themed renditions of classic Abba songs and absolutely nothing else. Of course, in writing this I've let another cat out of the bag. Any enterprising theatre production company that wants to design another musical based on classic pop songs might want to call Pulp c/o Island Records.

I don't own too many rare records, but New Order's "Run 2" is one of them. Is it just me, or did the vinyl era produce far more rare, hard-to-find products than the CD era? Ten years from now, the CD era as we know it may well be over -- all new music will be downloaded from the internet and freely shared through programs like Napster. When those days come (sooner rather than later) will there be any such thing as a "rare" recording? With frightening ease, I have found songs through Napster that I failed to find with months, or even years of searching music stores. Thus, the concept of "rareness" comes down to analog vs digital. A rare, digital recording will become a non-entity, if it isn't already. Until every home has both a computer and a vinyl-pressing machine, vinyl will be the Taj Mahal of music collectibles.

Raves will continue to be held on City of Toronto property. But isn't it strange that Toronto made such a big stink about banning raves (because of the "rampant" drug use) while making an even bigger stink (of a different odour) about ALLOWING a different group of "rampant" drug users onto city property. While spending millions of dollars to campaign for it. While pledging to spend billions further to bring said drug users to our city. I'm speaking, of course, about the 2008 Summer Olympics.