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Local Guides
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MUSIC NOTES
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by
Ric Taylor
February 3–9 |
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B.A. Johnston is a self–admitted overweight lazy ‘chud’
who spent the majority of his 30 years living with his
mother. Leaving only to work as a fry cook and perform
his bedroom–born tales of his everyday world, Johnston
has released three albums over the last eight years. This
weekend, Johnston returns to his hometown to release
his latest effort in slackerdom entitled, My Heart is a
Blinking Nintendo (Just Friends/Dead Bum Records).
“I escaped from my mom’s basement and moved out to
Halifax, mostly for the lobsters, which are not as
abundant as I had expected, sadly,” muses Johnston on
his latest lifestyle developments. “I got a ride out here
with Cuff The Duke and moved into my new mansion,
except that it is not a mansion at all.”
The ultimate anti–hero—adorned in a style he refers to
as ‘hobo chic, with deep fryer reek’—Johnston’s fans
expect to laugh at, and with, the singer. A relocation to
Halifax hasn’t skewed his view and with a new CD in
hand, Johnston further develops his themes of girls (“I
Love It When You Dress Up”), deep fried food (“Grease
Lullaby”), monkeys (“Theme From Helper Monkey”),
elves (“Call Me Lothar”), pirates (“Pay Me In Stolen
Treasure”) and his hometown, Hamilton (“When My
Hero Retired We All Cried”—about famed Ti–Cat Paul
Osbaldison—and “Jesus Is From Steeltown”).
Johnston is an indie rock folk singer singing about his
loves and losses, intermingling tales of self–deprecation,
self–loathing and self–aggrandizing simultaneously into
a mix of heartfelt and lighthearted songs. Obsessive,
obscure and off–kilter, Johnston’s frame of reference is
sometimes daunting to the new listener, but when you
get it, it’s glorious if not comical. When you understand
that a blinking Nintendo is a metaphor for a terminally
broken heart, Johnston’s music takes on universal
proportions.
“I guess the same things always inspire me to write,”
ruminates Johnston on his subject matter. “My job as a
fry cook in a sushi restaurant helps contribute, but my life
also sadly never, never changes. So the same things
appear album after album.
“I don’t think that I am a folk singer but some would
disagree,” he adds. “Humour is, of course, very
important, mostly because I have no idea how to play the
guitar—if I could play, zap, I wouldn’t need as much
humour… I am so much older than my audience,
everyone in bars is like 21, and everyone my age stays
home playing boggle. These kids don’t even know who
Pac Man is. I weep for our future.”
Loaded with a simple guitar and a low cost keyboard,
Johnson once again is hitting the road, bussing it from
town to town from Halifax to Victoria and back again; this
weekend, he couldn’t be happier about his Ti–Cat
touting, Queen’s Sub frequenting, Farmers’ Market
shopping homecoming.
“Man I am a tired chud, so very tired,” sighs Johnson. “I
get, like, no sleep these days I am so busy. I am living
the tired, sad lifestyle. Too stupid to give up, too tired to
do anything else but dance and play Casios. But I
perform because it’s fun and better than working at KFC.
“I have no grand scheme above finally getting enough
money to buy a gold tooth,” he adds on the potential
success of his cross–Canada tour. “I will drink five Cokes
a day and eat nothing but cheese pizza till I get home,
fatter and more tired than before but with no tears. The
Hamilton show will be a banger! I love the bands I’m
playing with, but I couldn’t put my finger on what our
connection is—songs about longing and not being
successful? That makes some sense, I guess. Maybe it’s
a Hamilton thing. My mom might come, my few friends
will be there if they know what is good for them. My
brothers will be there. It’ll be about good times and
songs about grease and lullabies.”
B. A. Johnston releases his latest CD this Saturday,
February 5, at The Pepper Jack Cafe with The
Escapegoats, Brantford’s MC Tupperware and Hamilton
‘funny man’ Jesse Bonner opening. $5 gets you in.
“Our common bond is a passion to create a unique
sounding music, a signature in the industry,” explains
Fullsystemtilt guitarist Bartek Chlebowski. He, along with
Dan Depaulo (vocals), Chris Taylor (guitar), Dave
Stacey (bass) and Matt Eisenberger (drums), formed
Fullsystemtilt in late 2001, taking their love of dark and
dynamic modern rock bands like Hoobastank, Tool and
The Smashing Pumpkins and offering their own take.
With their recently released debut full length CD,
Offline_, the band has found themselves swimming
upstream against a sea of competition but they’re ready
to start paddling.
“We are currently entangled in a genre that both
pleases and disappoints,” waxes Chlebowski
philosophically. “It is extremely difficult to make a name
for yourself working within the boundaries of new rock
because it has infected every radio station, it’s all too
popular and like hospital food, it’s single serving—it
makes no lasting impact on the audience. This oversized
genre, however, does have a certain intensity that allows
us to explore and understand what heavy is all about.
We’re learning how to make it work with what we can
offer skill–wise and we consider that a starting point.”
“We may be on the heavier side, but you can’t class us
with senseless, droning metal,” clarifies Stacey. “We
always focus on making a song memorable, always a
catchy bridge or verse. Dan Depaulo is a little guy with a
great big voice; everyone is always surprised by his
abilities behind the microphone.”
Brooding and brawny, the hard rock meanderings of
FST wear their collective influence on their sleeves,
wrapping their melancholic musings on the infinite
sadness and self–actualization, death and dealing with
it, love and its loss in a melange of angry guitars and
dynamic and at times despondent vocals. Recorded at
Mastermind Studio with Paul Roussel, Offline_ isn’t a
joyful listen but then it’s not meant to be. Even its cover
artwork depicts an anaesthetic and somewhat
unwelcoming scientific theme.
“The science is cold and calculating, we try to make our
sound that way too,” offers Chlebowski. “Hard hitting riffs,
heavy vocals, cold slaps in the face. We love to surprise
our audiences. We wanted something heavy and more
importantly, something that wouldn’t get tossed in the
garbage as soon as it got delivered.”
“The album is a bridge that connected our wide variety
of influences,” says Stacey. “It has something for
everyone on it, from acoustic to in–your–face metal.
Making the album did focus our goals in this band to a
more serious tone, but we will always make this fun.”
With a new album and DVD before the end of the year a
distinct possibility, FST plan to spend the first part of ’05
spreading the word to radio, festivals and anyone who
might listen or have them perform.
“We’ve been working hard at polishing up a power set,”
reasons Chlebowski. “I think that we’ve got it—it’s non–
stop and hard hitting and you won’t get a chance to
leave your seat.”
“We are always thinking about the crowd when we play
different shows,” adds Stacey. “Come see a
Fullsystemtilt show because you won’t get bored by a
bunch of songs that sound exactly alike. We want every
show to be different, to keep our sound modern and
innovative. All of our songs stand alone, and we arrange
them in a tight half–hour package that will not let you get
up to go have a smoke. Friday at the Corktown will be
our first time back there in over a year. It’s the birthplace
of our live show and where we got rid of our stage fright.
We have brought our live show a long way and we
intend to let the Corktown know.”
Fullsystemtilt play The Corktown this Friday, February 4,
with Screwtape and Sertraline.
With an abundance of what was outsider and obscure
music infiltrating more and more of a global
consciousness, it made sense that artists like Edgar
Breau and Veloura Caywood would perform at a recent
Toronto premiere screening for the film documentary on
the king of underground, obscure and difficult listening,
Jandek On Corwood.
Toiling on their art, compelled to communicate to
whomever may listen wherever in the world—artists
simply create regardless of the common trappings of the
business of music.
The aforementioned Caywood may have made only her
second Canadian stage performance at the premiere,
but has released as many CDs to a voracious
international fanbase courtesy of Wolfbeat Records.
Born in Kentucky to a former musician turned music
professor, Cathy Caywood Illman has been performing
and recording since the age of two; eventually, Canada
would be where the singer would find a new love, label,
band and name.
“Veloura Caywood is Cathy Illman when she’s alone in
her room making music,” she grins. “She’s all about
spontaneity and scavenger–like cheapness. I don’t use
anything expensive or respectable when recording. My
four– track is full of dust, my favourite microphone is tiny
and worth about ten cents. I use old tapes I find on the
ground. I don’t really care about sounding professional.
In fact, I would never like to sound professional. I hate
that sound. Nothing about me is professional. I never
want a nine–to–five job, I never want to engage in small
talk, I never want to have a boss, I never want to spend
more than five dollars in one spot, I never want to buy
anything new besides socks and underwear.
Professionality and luxury is not me. I hate that shit.”
The avant–garde musician and performer has many
alter egos these days, releasing music on Brantford–
based Wolfbeat Recordings with Rob Porteous (also
known as performance art rockers Transylvania 500’s
Count Suckula and Ape’s The Professor). As Caywood,
The Songaoke Team, Perla Goldbar and Frank
Brownfield, or with her most accessible project as
Whippoorwilma of the surf/garage rock of The
Flamingogos, the common factor is Illman’s consistent
desire to create.
“We all like music that surprises people and confuses
them,” Illman smiles. “We like to have fun and make fools
of ourselves. We like to have no shame and do whatever
we want.
“I have been recording since I was two,” she laughs. “My
dad would give me a tape recorder and a blank tape and
Casio keyboard and tell me to sing songs and write
music. I have lots of tapes of me when I was little making
up songs. I remember my dad bringing home Eastern
Kentucky University’s Moog synthesizers with built–in
samplers and an echo machine and we’d play with that
for hours in the basement together. I’ve always been
writing little stupid songs. It’s just a matter of finding
people to listen to them. I have tonnes of shit recorded—
enough for two more albums probably—that no one has
ever heard.
“Music is a big deal in my family since that is my dad’s
profession. I was in a teen angst rock band, then a more
experimental pop band, then a fast rock and roll band,
then I concentrated more on my solo projects with the
four–track in my room. Now I’m in the Flamingogos,
which is my dream band.”
With a debut CD on Lansing’s Isoxys Records,
Caywood has recently released (Side B) Unlistenable
Mood Music From An Open Mood on Wolfbeat,
proverbially cleaning out her musical closet.
“It’s the B–side because it’s less poppy and happy than
my first album,” muses Illman. “It’s like the dark side of
Veloura Caywood. The moody side, the lonesome
nighttime whispers. The B–side is supposedly the less
appealing side of the 45, so I thought it would be fitting to
call it that. But a lot of people would say the B–side of a
45 is often the one they like the best. So I think it’s fitting,
because this album is more like who I am personality–
wise. Side–B is unlistenable, and often times I think I am
unlistenable.”
A low–fi, leisurely experimentation of sorts, Mood Music
conjures up images of Sebadoh, Captain Beefheart,
Ween, Beck and occasionally Jandek. Just because it’s
not pre–packaged pap does not necessitate
unlistenability. A musician free of the confines of radio
programmers, promoters, record companies and
sometimes listeners creates what pleases his or her ear,
and while it might take years—or even a lifetime—
eventually there will be an audience.
Illman is content to create her music, but realizes her
own ability to influence on whatever scale.
“I hope the enjoyers of my music are like–minded
individuals who also have a collection of their own
recordings,” she muses. “I think every musician has
recordings like mine. Just shit they’ve done on a whim
without any reason or purpose. It’s sitting on dusty tapes
strewn about their room somewhere. They secretly love
it, but they don’t think anyone else would. I hope to
inspire those musicians to break out the old recordings
of when they were being their shameless selves and
show them to the world.
“I want people to go ‘hey I could do that,’ and then do it.
Who cares about studios? Who cares about commercial
success? Let it out freely. Do it at home. Do it alone. Do it
with friends. Laugh at yourself. Who cares? Give yourself
a break. I don’t like to be serious. I like to have fun.
That’s all.”
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