It was the worst of times, it was the best of times: Animal Collective, First Nation, Barr @ Opera House (23/02/06)

I wouldn't call it rapping. Standing around babbling into a mic, reaching reaching really really reaching for an "off-kilter" psycho-hipster persona over godawful canned beats and noise. That's not rapping. That's bullshit. Honestly, there are no words to describe Barr, who might have the honour of putting on the worst on-stage "performance" that I've ever seen. This covers a lot of ground, just so you know. What do you get when you take the Streets, remove all the lyrical wit, humour, phrasing, and poignancy; leaving just a load of meaningless ramblings, all delivered with the stage prescence of a stray fart? Nah, that's still sounding awesome compared to what I saw on Thursday night. There are no words.

At least First Nation are a good idea in theory. Space-y strumming with slacker harmonies reminiscent of former current Faith Healers singer Roxanne Stephen trying to self-harmonize over Stereolab tunes (and why not, they used to have the same drummer) (sorry). I can forgive the sloppy playing, but the end result is so boring that I keep forgetting there is a band on stage. I wish I was kidding, but music this aimless deserves my frequent attention lapses.

And after all that horror, Animal Collective appear and all that suffering is alleviated. Worthwhile, even! Although this is a "Feels"-obsessed crowd, the band keeps everyone mesmerized throughout this spectacular hour-and-a-half set of mostly new material. Dizzy, ambient swirls; hallucinatory shoegaze, blistering drones -- their kitchen sink approach turns everything they touch into gold. This is one of those rare shows where the worst criticism I can come up with is "they peaked too early", in reference to the "Banshee Beat"/"Purple Bottle" doubleheader that works the crowd (and the band) into a giddy furor only thirty minutes into the set. When it's all over, the excitement level doesn't subside even after the house lights and music come on, as 700 people hold themselves hostage in a downtown Toronto club until the band returns for an unplanned performance of "Kids On Holiday".

Transcendent, sensational. Defintely worth wading through all that shit.

Sam Cooke, "Live at the Harlem Square Club"

The phrase is overused, but here goes: Sam Cooke was an exceptional talent. We all listen to songs by deceased musical artists, they're everywhere, we learn to deal with the fact that they're no longer here and enjoy the music for what it is. However, I've never been able to hear more than ten seconds of Sam Cooke without feeling depressed and thinking "man, I can't believe this guy died so young".

I'd like to think that if he'd lived, he'd enjoy the popular profile that Ray Charles does today. Times ten. A crossover gospel star with a knack for appealing to black and white audiences from the 1950's onward. Except let's face it, the average person can name maybe two Ray Charles songs, three if they're over the age of twenty-five and can remember his famous Pepsi ads from the the 80's. There's no telling how vast Sam's songbook might have become -- his music would be mandatory at every wedding reception, like a one-man Motown hit factory.

For the uninitiated, a compilation of Cooke's biggest pop hits isn't the best place to start. Cooke was never as raw as someone like Otis Redding (the latter's ability to sound magnificent even though -- live -- he sang like he was being strangled will never be duplicated) but on record he often sounds sugary and tame. At least that was the case when he was clamouring for chart success. "Cupid" and "Only Sixteen" are wonderful, but they're pure cotton candy -- mushy late-50's/early '60's school dance gloop. They're so ... white (in fact, Cooke sometimes used white background singers to hammer home his crossover point).

"Another Saturday Night" and "Bring It On Home To Me" are a better demonstration of his full vocal power, but it's still evident that he's holding a lot back. Live performance is the best talent barometer for a lot of artists, and Cooke is no exception.

If I had to pick between "Live at the Harlem Square Club" and "James Brown Live At the Apollo" ... well, that's a bit of a misleading comparison because these two albums are quite different. Yes, they were both recorded in Harlem about a year apart. That said, James Brown has the tighter, more energetic band. Sam Cooke has everything else -- better voice, better songs, wider performance range (I always felt that JB's ballads, particularly when he was on stage, were nothing but oppurtunities for him to catch his breath rather than engage in genuine crooning). The Apollo Theatre crowd goes apeshit from the word go, and JB has them in the palm of his hand throughout. I believe the Harlem Square Club was more of a nightclub with a predominantly black clientele. The audience members have paid their money but they still expect to be won over. Cooke warms them up with grittier takes on some of his pop hits and by the time he gets to "Bring It On Home To Me" (he drops a delicious tease by singing the chorus to yet another pop hit, "You Send Me", during the tense extended intro) he's whipped the crowd (which now includes me, sitting in front of the computer at home) into the expected frenzy. With "Nothing Can Change This Love", our hero is gasping, pleading, ready to surrender all his possessions at the drop of a hat in exchange for his woman's love. Crossover teenpop has been left far, far behind.

You need all this -- the ideal gateway to the late, legendary Sam Cooke.

Much Music VJ Search (Episode 4)

Precious moments:

1. Robin Black dismissing everyone's work as unoriginal without a single new idea between the three groups. Let's review: Robin Black thinks that other people's work is worthless because it's derivative. Back on my shitlist (for a few minutes, anyway).

2. Erik and Frank nearly coming to blows. Like last week, the petty infighting was kept to a minimum but at least if you're planning on throwing some of it into the show, don't have them arguing over who ate the other's potato chips. They both had a point here. On camera, Frank might be the most natural, watchable personality out of the remaining eight. But his work ethic does leave something to be desired. Erik is selfish and fake. And they've got to tolerate each other for at least one more week!

3. Natalie's dimsissal. I never saw anything in her, so no complaints from me. I loved the way the task required them to excel at several different skills -- writing, researching, producing, and hosting an Oscars preview segment isn't chump work. Much has come a long way from making the VJ Search contestants do goofy things on camera for a weekend in order to earn their spot.

Much Music VJ Search (Episode 3)

A lot of reality series seek to maximize the time spent on the "competition" and minimize that spent on the "judging". On "Survivor", they constantly push the angle of "this game never stops ... you have to play the game 24/7". They justify this outlook by devoting most of the show to bringing out the personalities of their cast. Tribal Council takes up only 10-15% of the airtime on most weeks, although somewhat paradoxically, they make sure they stretch out that 10-15% as long as possible for maximum dramatic impact. I think a lot of reality shows function this way.

The MMVJ Search series broke down the competition/judging portion nearly 50/50. The finalists moved into the penthouse this week, which apparently sets up the formula that the show's format will use from now until the end. Strangely enough, the competition portion was totally uninteresting -- dominated by predictable attempts at building cheap heat between the contestants in their living quarters. Like I care about who sleeps in which room. I barely paid attention. In the middle third of the show, the competition and judging portions mingled seamlessly, as clips from the media party and the contestants' Much on Demand appearances were interspersed with a constant stream of critical comments from the VJ's and music/TV critics who were there to see their work. Even though so much time was spent talking about the contestants, as a partial substitute to hearing the contestants talk themselves, I felt that I was getting to know them all fairly well. Trust a fairly objective TV critic to be more articulate and engaging on camera than a 22-year old kid speaking subjectively about his or her role in the whole drama.

The elimination/judging portion had its share of drama, but there was also a lengthy section for a large number of extremely on point comments and criticisms (particularly from Robin Black, who really earned his paycheque tonight, as well as a one-way trip off of my shitlist (hopefully)). This 50/50 formula is a refreshing change from the reality norm, and I hope they carry on with it for the rest of the season.

Grammys 2006

I have no idea how I got through these interminably long shows in the pre-internet days, without message boards and online chatting to make the time pass more quickly. Well ... in truth, I didn't get through them -- either I got bored and went to bed before the show ended or I made generous use of the buttons on the TV remote.

Pleasantries
Kelly Clarkson winning twice. The continuing likeability of her "aw shucks" attitude, despite (or the rationale behind?) her increasing fame.

The ratio of musical performances to award presentations continues to grow. Eventually, there'll be nothing left other than Record and Album of the Year. And that'll be fine with me.

No "everytime you download a song from a file sharing network, somewhere in the world, you can hear a terrorist crying" speech.

Kanye West tearing up the stage, making Outkast's performance of "Hey Ya" from two years ago seem dull by comparison.

Ugly Like Dionne Warwick
The nu-metal-hip-electronic-hop version of "Yesterday", complete with Macca, bad harmonizing, and completely unneccessary interjections by Jay-Z.

Kanye getting shafted by 18-month old Green Day and U2 material.

WTF of the Century
I refused to believe the Sly Stone rumours that circled for the past few weeks. No way would he show up. Well, he did appear (or was it Green Velvet dressed up like him?), complete with deliciously gaudy SLY belt and mangled right hand, stumbled about in his usual haze, mumbled into a possibly unplugged mike while barely brushing his fingers over a possibly unplugged keyboard, and wandered off long before the song ended. Reports claim that he headed backstage, threw up, walked out of the building unescorted, and hasn't been seen since. Sounds like an insta-urban legend to me, adding to the long list of similarly bizarre stories associated with this inimitable character over the past forty years. Then again, I would have added this "performance" to that list if I hadn't seen it on live TV with my own two eyes.

Pazz and Jop 2005 -- the (underwhelming?) aftermath

The discussion seemed a bit muted, in part because the P&J results seemed to ressemble a million other year-end lists. I've been firmly in the "anybody but MIA" camp for some time now (repeated trips to Flow 93.5 events to hear the truly mind-warping beats of some contemporary reggae has done even more to convince me of the unremarkableness of MIA's music), so there's not much I feel like complaining about -- not to mention the fact that they used one of my comments! I also finished near the bottom in Glenn Mcdonald's critical alignment ratings, which was a pleasant surprise considering my top tens were a bit more mainstream than in recent years. And Simon Reynolds offered some befuddling food for thought on his blog, which I enjoyed even though I'm still not sure what nu-rockism is.

Much Music VJ Search (Episode 2)

Gathered in a suite at the Gladstone Hotel on Queen West, all 20 of the contestants looked a lot more ordinary than they did in their auditions.

The judges met with the VJ hopefuls and offered some general comments on their auditions:

Steve Anthony will be the hardass judge. He rightly noted that many of them were there by a fluke because their auditions were amateurish. I couldn't stand him as a VJ but Dina was correct to note (= read from her cue card) that he always did a great job of selling his personality while he was on the air, which is why he thrived in his position for so long.

Traci Melchor is the stern realist -- "this is a job, don't forget it, etc.".

Speaking of people who are lucky to be there, we have Robin Black, who is arguably less famous right now than any of the ten VJ finalists will be in a week or two. His entire career is based on the principle of Style Over Substance and he'll continue to be my whipping posts if he keeps concentrating on getting himself over rather than getting the show over (see: Dickenson, Janice; who earns a free pass from any thinking person's shitlist on account of actually being a huge supermodel).

Kardinall Offishall is a constructively critical and patient counsellor. And he's a big star! Great choice for a judge.

More on realism: it was entertaining to watch the contestants hurriedly and diligently prepare for their interview with Yellowcard, only to be evaluated by the band along the lines of "she was cute/spunky/very pretty -- MMVJ's have to be good looking, don't they?" Well, duh, at least they (the band and MM) are being honest about what the job significantly entails. [is it too much to ask that Erica Ehm should appear on this show to lecture the finalists on her "technique"?]

In the end, the judges basically cut the bland chaff and picked the ten most unique-looking people to go forward. What can you really tell from one two-minute interview anyway? Might as well pick the people who look the part (making small corrections for cultural and cross-Canada geographical diversity).