Avril Lavigne keeps landing those magazine covers. And they keep placing her at the forefront of the vague Anti-Britney movement. Of course, this is nothing more than Women & Songs Volume 7: The Teenage Years. Music fans, not to mention all free-thinking women, should be deeply insulted every time such things happen.

Consider these comments my tribute to International Women's day. The music industry seems to run through cycles where they come to the startling (to them), overtly sexist revelation that women are capable of writing and performing songs just like men, manufacture a bogus musical womens movement in a blatant attempt to shift product, and then forget it all. Lather, rinse, repeat five years later.

In most industries, once something different "breaks through", it ceases to become novel and is subsequently a non-issue. Take the NFL. Stereotypes have long persisted about certain positions. So, when black quarterbacks began making a splash in the league, their race was a notable facet of their performance. Now, there are many excellent black quarterbacks, and despite the position still being dominated by whites, it was no longer a race issue when, say, Michael Vick started making the highlight reels. He's not considered a distinguished black quarterback, he's just a distinguished quarterback.

Women have been a dominant songwriting force in popular music for decades, yet they're constantly pigeonholed into some stupidly named breakthrough movement and treated like novelty items, i.e. "lookie here, that Avril babe it cute and she can write a song unlike that Barbie doll Britney, well ain't that the darndest thing", until the movement dies just like any other movement and they're forced to prove themselves yet again.

Brit Awards Diary.

0:01. My lord, what an *unbelievable* opening minute with Pink! Popping out of a giant royal crown, band *storming* through "Get the Party Started" -- astounding stuff. I didn't care for the next four minutes of her performance, but what a great start.

0:06. I agree -- it's a cool innovation to put the podium in the middle of the hall, directly in front of the nominees. But the trade-off is the loss of the dining tables with wine bottles and drunk attendees. This new setup is like a convocation.

0:08. Will Young is managed by Simon Fuller (Spice Girls). Well, that certainly makes sense. Will says that Simon isn't afraid to tell him when he's got a bad idea, which he admits is often. No shit, you talentless turd.

0:10. The crowd is less than thrilled at Norah Jones' win for best International Newcomer. I laugh as she gives a serious acceptance speech (via tape) at the lager-it-up Brits.

0:12. Blue. Piss break.

0:22. What sick, sick choices for Best British Single. Somebody inform Gareth Gates that post-1991 covers of "Unchained Melody" are completely unwarranted.

0:23. I'm loving host Davina McColl's constant breast jokes.

0:26. Robbie Williams isn't there? That's shameful.

0:27. Justin Timberlake. At an American awards show, his performance would be a notable portion of the evening. The trouble is, it's been a solid half hour of boy and girl toy prepackaged stuff so far, hence, Justin is practically inconspicuous.

0:30. However, Kylie Minogue doing the "Rapture" rap -- that's real sweet. I could certainly live without Justin's falsetto, though.

0:36. Ms. Dynamite beat out nine(!) others for British Urban Act. All this seamless mixing of the songs during the nominee announcements is a cool idea in theory, but it mainly shows how homogeneous all the acts are. Anyway, she gives a mini speech about respecting her and the other nominees since they work so hard at what they do. Babe, everyone's seen "Making the Band" and "Popstars" so we know there's a lot of rehearsal involved, but most of you are still manufactured catalysers, synthesized for the purpose of increasing product-shifting rates. Live with it.

1:00. International Female is awarded to Pink. Accents aside, you can always identify the Americans because they're thanking 500 people rather than just snickering "thank you" and losing their balance on the podium.

1:05. Coldplay put laser lights to opulent use during a transcendent "Clocks". Sure, it's Earls Court, they've got every right to do a Pink Floyd light show if they want.

1:11. Best British Dance Act. Remember when Orbital, Prodigy and Massive Attack were competing for this year after year? You know, back when there were competent bands nominated in this category? Now it's the urban sameness that's nominated n EVERY other category. On the bright side, notice that the # of categories proliferates like jackrabbits from year to year, and yet the show moves along FASTER and thus, doesn't run any longer than normal. American awards shows, take note.

1:20. Avril Lavigne + 21 drummers + Sk8er Boi. That kind of creativity keeps rock and roll as a viable proposition.

1:25. Best British Group = Coldplay. Also nominated are Blue, Oasis, Doves, Sugababes. When did I wake up from Pop Hell and return to a world with an awards show contested by (mainly) good bands? And Davina McColl is right -- where's the controversy this year?

1:28. Almost on cue, Eminem swears his way through his acceptance speech for Best International Album (delivered via taped message, however).

1:30. Ms. Dynamite blatantly tries to re-create Kylie's 2002 show-stealer "Can't Get Blue Monday Out of My Head" by stealing George Michael's "Faith". But you've gotta respect her, she worked hard to rip off that song.

1:39. By winning Best Album, Coldplay earn their fourth Brit, tying them with Oasis according to the voiceover guy. Maybe the Gallaghers can take solace by being secure in knowing they'd win the back alley brawl between the two bands. Hey, why not, Chris Martin issued an open challenge for a fight during his last speech. Put in on a Pay Per View and charge fifty bucks, I'd watch. This time around, he mocks/imitates presenter Justin Timberlake's dancing in the "Like I Love You" video and states these awards won't mean much after Dubbya kills us all in a war. Who would have guessed that CHRIS FRIGGING MARTIN would supply the night's only controversy. He must be turning into a prick from hanging out with Gwyneth's spoiled friends.

1:41. What a Tom Jones tribute, featuring dozens of cool clips and celeb memoirs. TJ singing "I Walk the Line" with Johnny Cash and June Carter! Singing with Aretha, Stevie. Robbie Williams atones for his absence with touching words about what TJ's meant to him. Then, Tom ruins it all by sporting a goatee on stage. But he too atones with a kickass medley of his songs.

2:00. Tom's done, and so are we, right on time.

I brainstormed the following little experiment: take the CD's that are in my travel case, and comment on each of them using exactly twenty words. Can I possibly have anything worthwhile to say without the use of run-on sentences? Let's see ...

Vapaa Muurari -- Uusitalo. Live set featuring fluid minimal techno very much in the Mike Ink style, as well as standard Pole knock-off material.

Global Communication -- Remotion. They made one of the best ambient albums ever, and this remix compilation isn't far behind. Where are they now?

Laika -- Good Looking Blues. Poor Laika never get any attention, probably because they defy pigeonholing so well. At least twenty minutes too long, though.

Kraftwerk -- Concert Classics. I can't believe the legendary recluses gave this an official go-ahead. That's no knock against the quality of the music.

P.A.L. -- M@rix. Ant-Zen can do no wrong. Dancing to rhythmic noise, I'm convinced, requires slightly unstable brain chemistry, thus curtailing it's popularity.

Primal Scream -- XTRMNTR. Three years on, this still rocks like nobody's business. "Evil Heat" is good, but can't hold a candle to this.

Sonic Youth -- Goo. The same formula they perfected with "Daydream Nation", but missing a certain spark. They'll never top DN, but that's OK.

Bardo Pond -- Big Laughing Jym. A missing link between Slint, grunge, and their current stuff. In other words, they weren't as "out there" in 1995.

Flowchart -- Multi-Personality Tabletop Vacation. It's scarcely left my carrying case since I got it. It works any day or time, with anybody in the vicinity.

Richie Hawtin -- DE9 Closer To the Edit. I don't view it as the classic it's reported to be. I'm probably spoiled by his infinitely harder live sets.

My weekly HMV Communique email arrived today, and here is an excerpt:

THE MUSIC: Sure, it's tempting to take the British press with less than a grain of salt - remember Menswear? Adorable? Didn't think so. But at the very least this scraggly bunch pull off a powerful, tuneful reinterpretation of the groove-based rock that turned Manchester into the hub of modern culture.

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother receiving these newsletters anymore. I guess I like keeping abreast of what's "out there". I guess it's worth it if I take pleasure in making fun of them once in a while.

I've only been reading the British music press since 1992 (read: post-grunge, for the purposes of this discussion) but in that time, anything that is hyped over there is initially met with derision and skepticism over here. In some sense, the arrival of a new record by a British artist is treated like the release of a new computer virus: it's on it's way, so let's be vigilant and hope it passes quickly so we'll never have to mention it again. Thus, post-1992 or so, North American journalists by and large feel that this continent has regained a monopoly on producing good rock bands and passing judgment on them. As if being a fan of Nickelback or Limp Bizkit is something to be proud of.

Why is this? Grunge was so ten years ago. There's no exclusivity statute that gives anyone the right to claim a decade's worth of blanket superiority due to a couple of decent bands and ideas. Besides, Scotland's Teenage Fanclub's "Bandwagonesque" is the greatest grunge album ever made. "Nevermind"'s importance cannot be overstated, but people have just got to quit looking for sprinkles of Kurt's ashes every time they need a dose of credible/commercial appeal. I really can't come up with a good explanation for this arrogance, and I'm above trotting out top-of-my-head theories about trying to take the attention away from cooler-than-cool London after the 60's by creating a smear campaign to discredit British bands once glam became huge in the early 70's by preying on the homophobic tendencies of American rock fans.

Yeah, Menswear, oops, I mean Menswe@r, were embarrassing, and are deservedly the butt of Britpop jokes just like Northside are the butt of Madchester jokes. But everybody knew they were fourth-rate Britpop, and those who didn't know clued into it after about three months. It's a ridiculous mischaracterization to point to Menswe@r and say, "see, we told you Britpop sucked". That's like pointing at Vanilla Ice and saying "see, I knew that rap sucked", or pointing at O-Town and saying, "see, I told you that all boy bands suck and are nothing but fads". OK, they do all suck and are nothing but fads, but you see the point.

Adorable jokes have been making the rounds for ten years, mainly in British music press circles. Why people continue to besmirch their good name, I don't know, I've never understood it. They were hyped to ridiculous proportions, and it can be fun to knock a band down after that. (as an aside, I'm currently reading "The Creation Records Story", by David Cavanaugh, and I'm quite curious to hear what he and Alan McGee have to say about Adorable). They were caught between two trends, the shoegazing/grunge explosion on one hand, and whimsical Britpop on the other. Being on that bubble is just the best place to be if you want to be forgotten way out of proportion with your talent (see: Carter USM). And generally, 1992-3 were crappy years for music, particularly British music. Those years aren't remembered fondly these days anyway.

But Adorable had some wicked songs, a strong debut album (albeit a Verve release, see November 2001 for the definition), a good comeback single in 1994, big mouths, and were signed to one of the best labels in Britain. Radiohead took "Sunshine Smile", pumped it full of copycat American angst, retitled it "Creep" and had a big hit. Oasis took the attitude and aloofness and became megastars.

Zwan are charging thirty six dollars for their upcoming gig at Kool Haus. Huh? Sure, one of their guitarists used to play in a rather famous American guitar band during the 1990's (David Pajo, ex-Slint), but thirty six dollars? Are these guys in the band because they want a fresh start from their previous bands, or are they a supergroup? Because only a supergroup would charge thirty six bucks for that venue in their genre of music. Supergroup or not, that's a hell of a lot of money to pay for watching rock and roll in a big shoebox. Even if Kevin Shields became a touring member of Godspeed, I'd balk at the notion of shelling out thirty six dollars to stand in a hangar with iffy acoustics to watch them.

I'd still go, of course, the balking would only be temporary.

I recently saw two music-centred movies, "8 Mile" and "24 Hour Party People". In both cases, I got a lot of the film that I expected to get from the other movie. First off, I thought "8 Mile" would centre on working class people whose lives revolved around the music. And it does, but there's another primary character whose role I hadn't expected would be so prominent. Detroit. More than anything else, this movie is about scenery. It's the disgusting slums of Detroit, with the crumbling houses, disintegrating trailer parks, and the streets choked with graffiti that drive the characters to do what they do -- find a way out. The film graphically demonstrates that the battles may be about rapping, but they're no game. Succeeding in battles is an act of desperation. It's either win, or be resigned to walking down those ugly streets for the rest of your life. Win, and maybe get the hell out of your crappy life, or live in Detroit forever.

"24 Hour Party People" seems to employ a cast of thousands. For two hours, musicians, producers, and various Mancunians punters swirl in and out of the film, which is certain to confuse any viewer who isn't familiar with any of the history or the music. With only one lead character -- Steve Coogan's awesome portrayal of impresario Tony Wilson right down to the intonations in his voice -- I figured the cohesive force would be Manchester itself. The on-site filming, the factories (no pun intended), a painstakingly recreated set of the legendary Hacienda, these would be present in lieu of prominent supporting characters. But again I was wrong. This is first and foremost a film about music (Coogan bluntly says so in the film) and about the people who made it. There are clips, flashbacks, snippets of important happenings from Manchester past, and very little focus on the city itself other than being repeatedly told how important their music scene was. And if Coogan hadn't said so, or if you weren't into the scene back in the day and could therefore vouch for the accuracy of these boasts, you would never believe it to be true, since how could such incredible music history have come together when everyone streaks around completely wasted most of the time acting like assholes? Well, that's exactly what DID happen, despite the lack of any and all good business sense. That is the whole point, after all.

On a completely different note, I want to comment on the historical accuracy of the film. As for the timeline, I was completely lost for most of the movie. They'd play a song, I'd ground myself by recalling what year we must be in based on the song, but invariably the next scene would be something that I could swear had happened a year earlier or later, the next scene would jump another few months one way or another ... none of this bothered me too much, since it just adds to the overall chaotic tone of the film. Then there's the scores of little things they nailed down. Joy Division were playing "Love Will Tear Us Apart" onstage at one point, and the recreation was unreal. Far beyond dressing up "Barney" in his white shirt and skinny dark tie that he wore onstage throughout that time period, "Ian"'s guitar looked PRECISELY like the one the real Ian played in the video, and it was even HELD the same way that Ian held it (another side comment: "Ian" did well to clone Ian's dancing mannerisms, but some of the intensity I felt was misplaced. "His" gripping the mic with veins bulging was a shade too much Henry Rollins for me). But the version of the song that was being played was the remixed single version (the one on "Substance"), which was put out after Ian died and was never played live! That happened a fair number of times -- they'd get a whole load of little details exactly right but miss out on one or two other little things.

All the nitpicking is admittedly a bit of overkill. This film is fun fun FUN and the incredible character and setting recreations are plenty enough to almost make you feel as if you were there ... a wonderful fantasy for those of us born on the wrong side of the pond.

This past Monday, I finished listening to my latest California CD haul. I got through all 29 in just 17 days, compared to a month for 37 CD's last time around. So I'm improving. Progress IS attainable, kids, and you've gotta start somewhere. Some hard-to-find nuggets and highlights:

First, I have to confess, that I actually came back with 30 CD's, #30 is a CD I already own, but it's the glow-in-the-dark limited edition of Spiritualized's "Pure Phase". I could have had a great deal on it in Feb 1995, when the owner of the now-defunct CD Bar on Yonge made me a great offer. I ended up buying the regular CD on import, but the day-glo one would have cost me a measly five bucks more and I passed on it. I figured I'd been spending enough money as of late and needed to cut down a bit. I never, ever forgave myself for that decision, and since then I've gone out of my way to lean on the side of "buy" every time I'm confronted with similarly structured decisions involving hard-to-find music.

Hey, do you miss the days when Stereolab weren't trying to write futuristic pop, the days when all their songs contained only two chords? I do too. Flowchart's "Multi-Personality Tabletop Vacation" misses those days as well. Although, when the album was released in 1995 those days weren't such distant memories. But today, it's a rollicking trip down memory lane with a fat colourful photo album. This album sounds more like Stereolab than any album has ever sounded like any band, ever. The resemblance is so strong, it's scary, and it's also lovely. They could re-release it as a synthetic music product called "I Can't Believe It's Not Stereolab!".

One of my goals was to buy some experimental music (i.e. noise, minimalism, etc.). For whatever reason, the inventory and prices on the West Coast are unbelievable for this music. I returned with stuff by Kevin Drumm, Pure (from the Mego label), and Brighter Death Now, to name a few. I also scored Tony Conrad's "Early Minimalism Volume One" box set, which is totally THE psychedelic shizznit. Just listen to those drones for half an hour and try to deny that it's one fine drug, I dare you. This made me clamour for my early Spacemen 3 CD's. A thoroughly cleansing, inspirational, three and a half hour experience. I was droning away on my sampler in a matter of minutes, just by sampling as I cooed into a microphone.

Acid Mothers Temple released 5973 records last year, and I've begun the catch-up process with their take on Terry Riley's "In C". The melodies are carried almost entirely by the keyboard, and fifteen minutes in, with the robo-chug overwhelming the track, I completely forgot what I was supposed to listening to. That's a compliment. The other two tracks, In E and In D, are amphetamine fueled noise-rock and blissed-out shimmering drones. I find that it's impossible to get bored of this kind of stuff.

I caught the new Zwan video this morning. The title couldn't have summed up my reaction any better. "Honestly", Billy, who do you think you're fooling? A female bassist, singing backup vocals no less, a guitarist with straight shoulder length hair framing his pouting face, Jimmy Chamberlain on drums ... three guesses which defunct band this reminded me of. No, Billy's goatee does not count as a novel artistic development. Respect for the three guitars, but he's transparently dumped the old band for a new band of people that must hate him less and picked up where his old band left off.

The Grammy nominees were announced. Yippie. Nothing like the granddaddy of useless awards shows to make for some quality ranting.

Grammy can talk all it wants about how there's not one artist that ran away with the nominations, or how this years' field is more wide open than ever. Screw that. Does anyone doubt for one second that Bruce Springsteen will win all the important awards? It's the "Steely Dan" factor from a couple of years back. Grammy NEVER goes out on a limb -- hell, they won't even climb the damned tree -- unless there's a complete dearth of decent nominees (call that the "Alanis" factor). Alan Jackson and the Boss will clean up, because it's ALWAYS the Alan Jacksons and Bosses that clean up at the Grammys. Rather than pick the best music, you can just eliminate all the stuff that you know won't have a chance, and pick the winners that way. Let's play the process of elimination game right now.

Record of the Year. This can actually be difficult to predict, mostly because nobody even knows what the record of the year even means in an age of mainly singer-songwriters. I'll say the blandest record will get it, so that leaves Vanessa Carleton and Norah Jones. I mean bland as opposed to edgy -- "Don't Know Why" is a wonderful song, but it's really easy on the ears which will please all the voters whose tastes haven't progressed beyond Natalie Cole in the last decade. But Norah Jones will probably win Best Newcomer, so her votes will be split across the other categories, so I'll pick Vanessa Carlton here.

Album + Song of the Year. Just engrave Bruce's name on the trophy right now. Alan Jackson is the sleeper pick for Song. Grammy is always 18 months behind the times due to their asinine eligibility period, so they haven't had the opportunity to memorialize 9/11 yet, so they'll do it here.

Rock Album. Bruce again, but many voters will still have a soft spot for Sheryl Crow. Although I don't believe Robert Plant has ever won a Grammy, if so, they may pull out a corollary of the Steely Dan factor and give it to him even though roughly 0.0001 % of American human beings are even aware that he put a record out.

Rap Album. This could be interesting, since there aren't any Fresh Prince - style embarrassments for Grammy to cheese out with. I've never heard of Petey Pablo, so I think I'll pick him. But this could also be the year they pick Eminem, since he's a movie star now and everything, so some of the voters might assume this means he's safe for children.

I'd also be remiss if I didn't blast Grammy for citing the soft and safe "Dilemma" featuring grizzled rapper plus cute female armpiece, instead of the REAL Record of the Year, "Hot in Herre". Grammy absolutely loves duets, and this lets them say they've given appropriate recognition to R&B artists. Besides the infinitely higher sweatyumphbumpandgrindfactor, I'd be willing to bet that way more kids downloaded "Hot In Herre" than "Dilemma", and we CERTAINLY don't want to be promoting file sharing or anything.

Hello, it's DECEMBER 15, 2002, and you know what that means.

TOP 10 ALBUMS OF THE YEAR.

10. CLOSER MUSIK -- AFTER LOVE. This is not your older brother's synth-pop. It may be made with the same vintage instruments, but it's not synth-pop at all, it's equal parts playful house, lounge pop, and minimal grooves. Lo-fi and lovely.

9. SIX BY SEVEN -- THE WAY I FEEL TODAY. This year's Verve release. When the punk thrashing gets tiresome, "American Beer" forgives any transgression. But the screaming never stops. May they always be bitter and angry.

8. DELGADOS -- HATE. Certainly the best overproduced album of the year, it's also filled with gorgeous melodies that swoon, smash, blare, and wail across ten emotionally wrought tracks that deal with maudlin, anti-pop topics. Gargantuan stuff.

7. SCION -- ARRANGE AND PROCESS BASIC CHANNEL TRACKS. Is this really a *new* album? I've stopped caring -- whether it's a breathtaking DJ mix, a radical re-work/re-structuring of classic techno, a demonstration of how software continually redefines the music creation and recording process -- it just doesn't matter anymore.

6. TIM HECKER -- MY LOVE IS ROTTEN TO THE CORE. This mini-album tears a hole in hair metal, kicks and stomps it into quivering submission, but somehow retains it's wild-eyed spirit. Maybe because it's ten times louder than any 80's metal album. Or maybe it's the Van Halen samples. Electronic high-density mayhem done right.

5. LUKE SLATER -- ALRIGHT ON TOP. It's the album I'm not sure I'm supposed to like. If you have no burning desire to relive the 80's, when Luke Slater slaps that decade into working order by imposing his techno-funk sheen, even the toughest resolve will weaken.

4. AIDAN BAKER -- LETTERS. Two sublime, endlessly drifting tracks of chilled calm and ghostly looped anti-melody. The drones fill any sized room and it's thick tones prove difficult to peel from the walls.

3. SPEEDY J -- LOUDBOXER. Speedy's slamming return to pounding techno, it's the full album that last year's "Electric Deluxe" single hinted at. It builds you up, it spits you out, it runs from peak to mountaintop in ways that 99.9% of trance music can only hope.

2. HOLLOWPHONIC -- MAJESTIC. Remember when all Toronto bands used to suck? Remember the times when Montreal, Vancouver, Winnipeg or Halifax were the Canadian cities du jour for great bands? Remember when Slowdive used to be this really awesome band, but self-destructed, leaving the next generations of downtrodden shoegazers like Hollowphonic to pick up the mantle? Every time I hear "Majestic", I continue forgetting.

1. GODSPEED YOU ! BLACK EMPEROR -- YANQUI U.X.O. It's bordering on prog. You're probably bound to dislike some of it's overt politics. It wishes it were a live album. It's not as good as "Levez Vos Skinny Fists ...". But it's still essential.