The Spy Bill

Bill C-30. 

                As much as I’m hating this, I’m loving it. The imposition is almost worth the outcry. Almost.

                Harper’s government introduces a bill wrapped in the guise of a shield against child pornographers and online predators, Public Safety Minister Vic Toews declares in an oh-so-Conservative absolute: “either you’re with us, or you're with the child pornographers,” eighty million taxpayer dollars are earmarked for this project—to pay for what, no one can quite say, and those of us who despise the practices of this arrogant and corrupt government relish the outcry.

                For once, it appears Canadians are united. Olympic hockey and Bill C-30.

                Since forming an under-voted majority eight months ago, the Harper government has unleashed a flurry of mean-spirited, uncompromising and, (I’ll give ‘em this one), totally foreseen bills. They’ve limited debate, refused to respond to opposition (or the Opposition). I mean, why should they? They have a majority, and it’s not like a this is a democracy or anything. They’ve lashed out at any criticism with matter-clouding.

                Now, in the grandest show of hypocrisy, they’re letting you have your guns back and burning all gun records in the spirit of liberty, but they want access to your hard drives in the spirit of protecting your children. Freedom here, fascism there. Any of you who slapped my kids in the face with your wallets by voting for this party care to explain the schizophrenia to me?

                All defenses are hogwash. Giving the police full access to our online activity without needing a warrant is a Big Brother move, period. On Facebook I likened it to throwing a spike strip across the #1 Highway in order to stop speeders.

                I have to admit that I’ve learned to begrudgingly respect Harperco’s methods in appearing like a party without clinging to any ideological stances. Since the formation of his Progressive Conservative / Reform / Canadian Alliance coalition, Harper has striven to prevent another division of the right packaging all policy in a rhetoric of apparent “goodness for all Canadians.” The power has been in what they don’t say.

                He’s referred to his Reformer days—days where he took out newspaper ads attacking gay marriage, and railed against abortion—yet has not refuted that he once held these beliefs. He has said he will not renew debate over gay marriage or abortion, but he hasn’t openly endorsed or attacked them. It’s clever.

                Evil, but clever.

                People who know who he once was vote for his party, and they think he’s a Christian moralist forced into politics. True Conservatives vote for the party because they believe it will put money in their pockets, and that’s their only moral. Both groups feel he represents them first. He refutes neither, by implication backing both (in something of a contradiction). He has a majority (well, because we have a system that misrepresents elected MPs when considering number of votes, but also) because all Conservative policy has become grey.

When something as nasty as Bill C-30 is unleashed, they reword and repackage it, hiding the intrusive and playing up the protective. They won’t be honest about what they’re trying to do, but this time we haven’t been fooled, and it’s damage control. I’ll come to what good it’s going to do in a moment.

Why would they want this information? Well, pardon my cynicism, but during the spring campaign, Harper staffers refused people entrance to Conservative rallies because the individuals turned away were linked to the Liberal and NDP parties. How did the Cons know this? They’d been trolling people’s Facebook and Twitter pages, of course. True, if you want something to remain private, don’t put it on Facebook, but what sort of democracy is it if our government (or potential government) searches every corner of the Internet to ferret out dissenting opinions rather than face them head on? Mind you, what sort of government commits a crime in providing itself secret election funding, and wins re-election? What sort of democracy is it when our government sends phone calls to voters deliberately misdirecting them from polling stations in hotly-contested ridings?

The answer to all, frankly, is a crumbling one.

Bill C-30 is the perfect example of the kettle we’ve been dropped into, willingly. Stephen Harper and Vic Toews dictate policy, mask its intent, and prevent any meaningful debate on it in the House so the Harper-stacked Senate can ram it through.

Finally, as one, Canadians have had it and are voicing unified opposition to the spy bill. Sadly, we’re voicing it to a government that has never shown the slightest interest in listening to the people it governs. This is about one man’s ego trip, and about the acquisition and retention of power. The bill will become a law, and Internet freedom of all kinds, legal or no, enjoyed for nearly two decades in this country, will be profoundly altered.

We have forfeited our rights as Canadians to the interests of the worst prime minister and Cabinet we’ve seen since before World War 2, and we’ve done it without a fight. Almost like we deserve to toss our children’s futures into the gutter.

Hate to say I told you so . . .

A Tale Told By an Idiot, Full of Sound and Fury, Signifying Nothing

Now to art. Sorta.

                Saturday night I spent the evening in a relatively-typical fashion with my wife. Glass of wine, rented movie, stayed up late enough after the movie for some Saturday Night Live. I went to bed dwelling upon the poor-quality “art” I encountered (namely the movie and the musical guests on SNL), and felt this was a trend I’ve seen a lot lately. Thinking that perhaps I was tired and cranky and over-thinking about the state of the world, I turned in. Yes, by “thinking” I’m sure I mean “hearing from my wife.” When I woke up, I was rested, but in no way consoled.

                That movie sucked.

                That band sucked.

                Okay, okay, that happens. We’ve all seen bad movies and heard bad bands. In fact, bad enough movies or songs can really be quite enjoyable experiences. It’s like a flush of the system, seeing something you hate that much, feels good.

                I could have left it at that, except the film wasn’t just bad, it was horrible, and yet critics, the masses, the supposedly smart and the unabashedly dumb, that is, everyone but me and the missus, loved the film. The band was similar to many I’ve heard and seen creeping on SNL lately. It was bigger picture. Sad state. The world is sucking, we need a revolution (so, I guess this is Part 2).

                The film in question was Drive. I persuaded my wife to watch based on the numerous reviews I had seen and heard just screaming what a grand movie experience this one was. One of those leap out and grab you Forrest Gump or Little Miss Sunshine or (closer, but still not there) Taxi Driver types that everyone gets something out of. Well, if anger counts, count me as part of everyone. An art house action thriller, huh? Half-way through we realized that it (and, for my suggestion, I) were unforgivable. What a hunk of crap! Taking a gory snoozer with a paper-thin plot, no characterization, no discernible theme worth mentioning, then slowing it down (presumably because if you played it in real time it woulda been, like, 25 minutes long), screwing with the lighting, using Blade Runner’s soundtrack and then unimaginative “guy driving and thinking” scenes (Taxi Driver again) does NOT ART MAKE! In doing everything to put together anything butt just another action film, Nicolas Refn used all of the above to try to toss together a film with substance. Then he told us it had substance. Then the critics told us it had substance. It’s like people who brag about reading an especially hard book that they didn’t get at all, but pretend they did for fear of looking stupid, ignoring the fact that it probably just sucked.

                It’s been so revered, that I went through a moment similar to the analogy above where I thought either I’m stupid or everyone else is. In this case, sicerely, I must say it is everyone else.

                Sitting through it hoping it might redeem itself, too lazy to shut it off, guilty for having paid for it so feeling we must ride it out, we experienced relief when the end credits flashed. Here we clicked on SNL (I won’t address the skits, which appeal widely to moods as suited, and never express to be art), and took in the band. Who they were doesn’t matter. Wait, that’s not quite right. Who they were matters because they don’t matter, because they were so typical, the kind of band you can get twelve of for ten cents, as the saying goes when butchered.

                I try not to get too caught up in that thinking that the music I grew up with is best. This can be hard for anyone, and I do find it trying at times because the music of the first half of the 1990s was reactionary in many ways. There was something revolutionary there. Like punk before it, “grunge” (shudders, but admits ease necessitated) and its ilk cast off the excesses of the previous cycle, in this case the glam and sheen of hair metal and the worst pop ever,  music that reflected the materialism of the 1980s.

                Fifty years ago, when modern popular music was well under way, a revolution occurred. At this point they were saying—for the first time ever!—that rock was dead. The pop, doo-whop, she-boom, ooh-baby themes was being hucked aside for more experimental music, more revolutionary music. Music with meaning and message. Someone read a book, they wrote a song. George Harrison dabbled in Indian mysticism, he wrote a song. Neil Young lost a friend to heroin, wrote a song. Bob Dylan saw inconsistencies in a wealth-driven society, song = written.

Suddenly pop stars had become activists, leaders. Everyone on earth was already listening to their voices, so many of them tried to say things that mattered. Success varied. (This has remained a mandatory job requirement in musical stardom, for better or for worse. They are expected to form and express opinions. Never mind that most of them failed to even finish high school, or were so wealthy at such a young age that they can’t ever be accused of being in touch with reality on any level. What does Angus Young think of the famine in Africa? What, can’t find it on a map? Immaterial!)

So, when the same happened in those early 1990s, heroes like Pearl Jam, Sinead O’Conner, REM, U2 (hanging on from the 80s), started standing for issues. We, the youth who worshipped them, made decisions about these issues as well.

How we need a revolution of thinking music now.

Back to my disgust at the past few musical guests I’ve caught on SNL. With only one exception—Lady Ga Ga, whose spectacle is only matched by her talent—the groups have been composed of airheads. Doofuses who couldn’t form a concrete thought on anything outside of Twilight and the kind of shoes they want to wear if their hairstyle depended on it. And so many doofuses! Why do you need seventeen members in a band if you’re playing fewer chords than the Sex Pistols on one string? What’s the deal with that guy who just hits something with a stick once every second verse? Or that dude doing jumping jacks in the back? What's he for? Why does every group need to have an overweight black man? That stage is getting so crowded that the two lead singers in skinny jeans or pleather tights or whatever can’t properly strut as they spout “nu-uh-uh” or “yo-oh-oh.”

Excess and excrement, that.

Talk like this can come off as sounding crotchety, outside the times. I have a healthy respect for that opinion, although I don’t share it. Just am aware. As with all other matters on which I like to electronically opine, in music I know my fair share of older folks who have a decided “with-it”ness. A favourite uncle of mine is approaching sixty, and he has not lost step with what is current in music since the Beatles were still together. Because I’m not happy with the state of popular music should not see me labeled as a middle-aged codger. I have an awareness of what is now and the ability to appreciate what is GOOD in something that is not MINE. These navel-gazing whinies with their grandiose yet simple, loud but unlistenable nonsense is the sign that, hopefully, we’re about due. That musical revolution is a-comin’. Punk did it to stadium rock in the 70s, grunge (ugh) did it to glam in the 90s, we’re about due for that two-decade shift. But be sure to grab hold and love it while you can, because it only lasts for about seven years before Hanson and the Backstreet Boys take over.

Mainstream art is at a low. All this 80s worship has us producing art like in the 80s, a decade notable for the great distances between works of relevance. Flash and dash, sound and fury, little substance.

My hope is the wheel, or the worm, is set to turn. 

So I Say I Want a Revolution. Well, y'know . . . (Part 1 of Many)

                When you get old enough (as opposed to just “old”), you start to notice the patterns. You start to see that culture, society, nature, life in general, all turn on great wheels, intersecting with each other at certain points, and in certain variations. Given time, a wise enough person or a good enough scholar of history will note the number of variations is finite, and repetition is inevitable. One can predict literal and figurative revolutions, if I can get Asimov-y on ya.

                Those of us who are feeling particularly jaded with today—those of us who are anti-war, anti-capitalism, anti-Harper, pro-environment, pro-Occupy, pro-the future—see that we’re at a very ugly out-turn of the wheels. We are saddened by this and anticipate—crave, even—a revolution, a change in sensibilities.

                Everyone who reads my blog frequently or interacts with me via social media (digital or no) knows my opinions on this. Having lived through the greed and materialism of the 1980s, as well as its constant fear that the end was near, I then lived through the subsequent hope of the 1990s. Politically, Reagan, Bush and Mulroney gave way to Clinton and Chretien (not to say the latters were without fault, but anything was better than the formers). Walls came down, Cold War ended. There was a real sense of hope in many ways as the 20^th century wore itself out. It would be foolish to ignore the Rwandan genocide or the war in the former Yugoslavia (as examples), but as a young man living through that time I felt an awakening hope that the First World was going to start doing the right thing for the Third, and that the Second would rebuild itself. But all the hope in the world means little when—within a decade—the wheels cycle and we enter the world of W. Bush and Harper, of Islamic fundamentalism, of the War on Terror, of tarsands and environmental apathy, of banks acting like banks and the economic (insert noun indicating anything from a slowdown to an all-out, grab-your-monkey-and-run-for-the-hills-crisis here).

                We want a revolution, those of us. But who, exactly are we? Who exactly am I because I’m not, strictly, one of them. I have friends on the poles (or wings, if you’re chicken), right out there in the extremes. I’m extreme in some regards, less so in others. I can say that I feel that if you find the current similatrities with our world and that of the 1980, politicially, socially, culturally are good things, then you don't love your children. Fact. 
              Over the next little while I’m going to be posting some bloggity blogs detailing the revolution that I see and crave. These will range from the global and pertinent, to the trivial. Whatever tickles my fancy. 

10 Reasons I Love Living in Alberta (and 5 Issues I Still Have)

     In March of 2003 I moved to Alberta to work, and the following fall I made that a permanent transition. I have been here longer than anywhere I lived since leaving my home town at eighteen. When Calgary hosted Grey Cup a couple of years back, I wrote a blog reacting to all the Saskatchewan-bashing I see here, and how I had resolved where I'm from despite where I am. As a result of that blog, I was asked 1) if I love Alberta and 2) assuming I do (and I do), what do I love about it.
     I've been experiencing a lot of contentment lately with where my life has ended up, and with where it's still going. With that contentment in mind, I'd like to present my 10 favorite things about my new(ish) home province, as well as 5 things that still bug the hell outta me.
     (Things like my wife, kids, friends, and band which are ALL Albertan obviously come first. I mostly want to address the quasi-universals here. [How does one express the universal provincially?] Oh, and this will have something of a Calgary-centric, Southern flavour.)

1. The Mountains. Being prairie farm-boy stock, I still look out the window at the Spine of the West with my jaw dropped. Daily. Though I have no desire to live where the sun goes down at three and winter starts in the summer, I visit them as much as possible. That ready access to the world's greatest mountain range should not be taken for granted.

2. Calgary venues. Saskatoon will always be my frame of reference for city experiences. Everything is compared with there. Calgary is bigger, Red Deer smaller; Regina colder, Edmonton comparable. Though I'll always love Toon town best, and defend it to its critics, cities of 200,000+ get overlooked a lot when it comes to music and sports. Having access to one of Canada's biggest centres has given me all the concert, big-venue culture, NHL and CFL I can handle and afford. No, it doesn't have to be big to be good, but at least now I know to compare.

3. Culture. This will never be the jewel in commerce-mad Calgary's crown, but on any given day I have access to a wealth of museums, cultural attractions, historical sites. I don't just mean the city, either. There's Head Smashed In Buffalo Jump, Tyrell in Drumheller, Rosebud, fringe and folk festivals, Wordfest. So rich I have to be choosey. Oh, and if I ever choose to go, I'm told Stampede is all right as well.

4. Booze. I like a bevvy now and again. The low prices in this province aside (my brother moved back to SK and had to give up scotch, ouch), this area's rich collection of micro-breweries, those BC wineries, Kensington wine market, etc. all keep me on the happy brink of Hemmingway-hood.

5. BC's right there! Hey, it's a gorgeous province. So's Alberta (and Saskatchewan), and I'd never want to live there, but to be able to travel in a day to the Okanagon, or to my pals in Vancouver, to the island . . . I mean, no one in Regina says, "Plus, we can go to Manitoba whenever we want!"

6. Camping and hiking, and with some variety. I love the outdoors here. That touch of alpine je ne sais quoi really plays on me, after years of pitching tents in the prairie grass, or down shrub-lined river valleys. On any given day, I have the choice of prairie river, mountain park, grassland, Badlands. Fishing, hiking, skiing, climbing. Rah, rah, rah.

7. Jobs. Yes, the cost of living is higher. Yes, I have a job that is (proven) transferable all over the world. Yes, education is an oft-crapped-upon service in money-mad S. Alberta. However, I work in a great school, with great support, and I'm hardly collecting chalk nubs to use next fall.

8. Chinooks. The last winter I spent in Regina, we were under what the weather dudes called an "Arctic Dome" for two straight months. My last winter in beloved Saskatoon, it was -30 from November to early March so near consecutively that you barely noticed the release. Hereabouts, even the hope that a Chinook could be over the horizon of the next forecast, even the hint, gets me through any cold snap. However . . .

9. Winter. I love it, I do. That's not like a person claiming they like mussels and eating them just to show how tough they are slurping a slimy sea creature from its cold shell. I truly do like winter. Sensible winter, no Arctic Domes, please. Skiing, snow forts, ice fishing, the hush that falls at night during a heavy snowfall. This area gets some of the most violent and pleasant winters. Manic depressive weather, maybe, but it keeps you attentive, right?

10. Topography. My particular home is a prairie town surrounded by farm and grassland decidedly flatter from where I grew up in Saskatchewan. Yes, really. But Strathmore's dominated by a historical canal system that built the Palliser region. It's a half hour from the Bow River. The Badlands and their hoodoos are just down the hill. Foothills and mountains in short reach. Really, all we're missing is ocean, but then we don't have to worry about earthquakes or hurricanes.

The Bad. I'll try to be brief for fear of contradicting the good vibe I've cultivated above.

1. Politics. Maybe because I didn't grow up here, experience the NEP, or don't have an inherent hatred for the colour red, but I've never gotten the "a vote for the Conservatives is a vote for the West" nonsense. People back right-wing parties like they're hockey teams out here, never really looking at the issues.

2. Oil is god. I have many friends who work in and around the oil and gas industry, and yes many other jobs are tied to that industry (though not on the molecular level the O and G folks would con us into believing). But, c'mon, what's good for oil doesn't mean it's good for the rest of the province, and Big Oil is a group pf un-altruistic corporations first. Fact.

3. Expense. High quality of life comes at a pretty damn high cost. The "Alberta Advantage" sure hasn't done much for escalating fuel, energy and food costs, and Calgary's rapidly-growing homeless population aren't all there because they're lazy.

4. Calgary overall. It's the city I access and I like having that access, but it's an exploitative relationship, I've got to tell you. 1, 2, and 3 on this list alone are my biggest beefs with what we satellite folk refer to as "The City," and that doesn't even cover urban sprawl, weak culture, and pathetic public transportation. Fortunate location does not equate to greatness.

5. Those Jonses. It's worse in parts of BC, especially the cities, but that urban and American drive to race your neighbors to a finish line that's been carved by the keen blade of the cutting edge, to have the newest thingy, to be the expert on the newest trends, to one-up those about you sure seems an obsessive pursuit out here.

In case "What's this world coming to?" was not rhetorical.

“Let us not listen to those who proclaim that the world is at an end. Civilizations do not die so easily, and even if our world were to collapse, it would not have been the first. It is indeed true that we live in tragic times. But too many people confuse tragedy with despair.”

----Albert Camus, “The Almond Trees”

                I had a spectacular 2011, and I feel just awful about it.
                Based on a lot of the year-in-reviews I’ve read over the past couple months, nobody appears to have thought much of 2011 as a year overall. Let’s have a quick run-down of the awful (and you’ll sadly note I may miss something): Japanese earthquake/tsunami/nuclear crisis; Norwegian massacre; African famine; Belgian shooting; Slave Lake fire; Philippines earthquake; Arizona shooting; Texas Christmas Day murder/suicide. Oh, and then there are the matters of opinion: Harper majority; criticisms of Occupy Movement; Middle East uprisings (the continually un-aptly titled “Arab Spring”).

                I found it to be a hard year as well, despite the personal highlights. Norway and Japan hit me especially hard because there are people in my life who were in those places. I had a cousin on the island of Utøya. It was hard to wake up one morning last May and face four to five years of my country in the clutches of capitalism-trumps-all conservatism.

                I’d like to answer to the cynics, to the idea that things are constantly getting worse. (If you’re a frequent visitor to my blog, consider this a sequel to a piece I blogged last August: http://vikingpaul.blogspot.com/2011_08_01_archive.html)

                Declaration: The world is not becoming worse. The apocalypse does not at last looming on the horizon. (Sorry to the gun/canned-food hoarders out there). 

                Bad things have always happened, natural or man-done. 2011 had a bucketload of crap in it, no doubt, but I would caution those who despair from throwing in the towel on the human race or on this planet. Give up fighting and you quite simply lose. That’s it, easy Math.

                It is nothing but stupid to look at the past as civilized and the present as a time where hell is busting at its bindings. Murder has always been there. Senseless massacres have always been there. Natural disasters made the planet what it is. (Hello Gulf of Mexico, g'bye dinosaurs). Teenagers are no more selfish and no more disrespectful now than they were 1000 years ago, they’re simply disrespectful in new ways. How they rebel is always different than how the generations preceding perceive as proper. It would meet with a little more approval if it was traditional rebellion. Yeah, if that ain’t an oxymoron . . .The world is not getting worse, it’s just different than it once was.

                A sign of aging, of course. Every generation that has ever aged has stared down its inheritors and at least once declared that the world is troubled/doomed/fucked. Yet we still manage to plod on.

                Most of my news comes to me via radio or the Web. In both cases, stories often end with invitations for public response. On the radio, a selected group of choice responses are played; online, the right story can draw hundreds of comments, with new argument threads being drawn that have little pertaining to the original news item, appealing to our Facebook-inspired need to debate EVERYTHING through comments, with only the harshest or most vile deleted by a mediator. If you pay close attention to the responses—and it becomes exponentially more true the more horrifying the news piece was (and let’s face it, most of the news that gets our attention IS the bad stuff)—you’ll see that most of them decry the shoddy state of our planet and society, and that things are just going to continue to get worse.

                Media pieces, Facebook stati, tweets . . . all variously worded versions of “What’s this world coming to?” Hell, I didn’t tell my own wife about the Christmas murders in Texas when I first heard about them because I know she is sometimes given to worrying about what kind of a world we are raising our children in.

                I won’t say I’m not prone to a little worrying about the future myself. I’m tempted to despair when I consider the state of our environment, and our apathy towards it, when I look at idiotic New-Thing-Now capitalism, or when I look at those who define their entire lives around the acquisition of wealth. I try to allow it to only be a fleeting despair by doing something to make my corner better. That's the key for me. 

                Those who are aware of the state of our world yet do not give over to despair, and yet are not hopeful or productive in enacting change—indeed they intentionally stand in the way of change—have avowed to attack idealism wherever they see it. They claim the maturity of “realism” (as opposed to cynicism), but what it thinly hides is a justification for being greedy, lazy and immoral. It’s been a trend in the 21^st Century. Idealism, hope, and proactive change have all existed before now, but what I find singularly disturbing is the habit to treat them as childish things. (I.E. “If you’re under thirty and you vote Conservative, you’re heartless. If you’re over thirty and you don’t, you’re an idiot”). The wise stand aside and shake heads full of wisdom and old salts about life requiring a helmet and all that rot, while stroking an icon of Kevin O’Leary. This isn’t the worst, though. The worst is the desire to attack idealism, to decide that, for some reason, the current youth have no right to rebel, to protest, to believe they can make change. The war between idealism and greed has been fought before, but because the Boomers and the Xs didn’t win their battles, it’s as if the Millennials are to accept that the war is over, lost, and they’re that last bastion of soldiers living at the top of a mountain awaiting orders, unaware that their side surrendered years ago. The youth are being told they shouldn’t be optimistic, they shouldn’t hope, they shouldn’t protest, they shouldn’t Occupy anything. That’s just not mature.

                Because worrying, we know, is like a rocking chair. It seems that there are three types of people in this present future, or future present: those that figure we’ve made it this far, may as well go on consuming, spending, polluting, watching Entertainment Tonight. There are those who see the bad in the world, despair, and then bury their heads in the sand. I try to be the third type: aware, so cautious. Active, so hopeful. Not self-satisfied--understanding that one man can only do so much, but that this should not prevent me from doing it. Those who are not willing to let despair stand in the way of being the change they want to see in the world.

                Can one man have a dramatic effect? Many have always seen naiveté as my great flaw, but I do believe that one man can be a stone dropped into a still pool. Better to happily do, than to despair and do nothing, or to deny and destroy.

“If you look out at the city you live in and see that it’s full of garbage you should whistle a happy tune like a character in a Disney cartoon and start collecting the garbage.”

----Pete Townshend

2011 in Music

     I think this year I have to qualify my annual list of the year's albums. This is not a comment on the most popular music of the year. A cursory glance at Rolling Stone, Billboard or the MuchMusic Countdown tells me that I don't like popular music. Almost all of the above charts are populated with American R and B acts, rap, or pop divas and Idol castoffs singing through Autotune. (Oh and Glee, God help us all.) My own encounters with pop are usually coincidental--though I do like Lady GaGa, for what it's worth. Kanye West and Jay-Z had me giggling incessantly with their choice to name their collaboration after the place I think most of their music belongs: the toilet. Kanye, sheesh. The only dork on this planet who could make me consider listening to Taylor Swift just because I think he's a scumbag.
     Anyway, I'm mostly a rock dude. This isn't exclusively a rock list, but that's where I come from in the first place. I've heard that rock has been getting pretty mellow, and based on my list I have to agree. We're due for a revolution, though. Some kinda 1991-esque shaking off of all this Rihanna and Bieber glut. Here's hoping the Mayans were just predicting Grunge Part 2.
     For my money--thrones and Glee compilations aside--2011 was a fantastic year in music, much better than 2010 and easily as good as 2009, which I thought was one of those 1977/1994 once-in-a-generation lightning blasts. So much good music, in fact, that I'm breaking with tradition. I'm going to list the good and great albums first (and for the first time ever I'm going to tell you what I consider the best album of the year, plus some honorable mentions.) I'm also going to give you a list of other albums, the lessers I encountered, shall we say. Some were okay, some were disappointing. I'm not saying they were all bad, necessarily, but they just weren't what I thought they would be. Except for the unforgivable Black Keys and Dream Theater. Th'hell, guys, th'hell?
     Onward:

The Good and Great of 2011

The Best Album of 2011: 
Collider by the Sam Roberts Band.

This was honestly a bit of a surprise. His last album was good, but had that feel of the slow slide down after two brilliant first albums. It happens. A band knocks it out of the park once, twice, misses a step with their third, and then for the rest of their career just sort of mails them in. So, imagine my delight when this gem showed that Sammy-Boy not only still has his chops, but is also willing to use them on all new meat. (I don't understand idiomatic language well enough to know if I mixed m'metaphors there). Still firmly a folk-rock act, SRB throws some stellar work on here featuring unusual time signatures, some horn sections, and good ol' rock outs.

Choice track: Yikes this is a hard one. I hope the rest of this list doesn't take me so long to find that one song, that beautiful image. I'm gonna give the nod to the head-bobber "Let It In," but please don't lead that to cause you to ignore the opening gem "The Last Crusade."

Honorable Mention 1: Nine Types of Light by TV on the Radio

This was a trend for me this year: a band that's been around for years that I've never totally appreciated. Man, am I glad I picked this sucker up. This was my favorite wake-up album of the summer. Nice and mellow, yes, but also gets you singing along to the "Oo-oo-oos" in the confusing opener "Second Song." This was one of the most fun albums I heard this year.

Choice track: Yeah, let's go with that one. "Second Song."

Honorable Mention 2: The Social Network Soundtrack by Trent Reznor and some dude named after Scout's dad in To Kill a Mockingbird (but I file it under Nine Inch Nails)


If you've followed Trent lately, he's been a little less angry and a little more experimental with sound, even letting his supermodel wife sing on an album in a Yoko-esque move that I also file under NIN. In fact, if you've listened to Reznor's instrumental Ghosts I-IV, you've got a good sense of what this album is about. Some of the same arrangements appear on this as on Ghosts, which should have compromised Reznor's chances of winning the Oscar for Best Original Score, but it didn't. (Shh.) Certainly a case where the music is vastly better than the film it was recorded for.

Choice Track: This is an album to listen to late at night, all at once. It's not about single tracks. But if you have to get an appetizer, try out "In Motion."

Honorable Mention 3: Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons

Yes, it's two years old. However, I, like many, many North Americans, did not discover this stellar UK folk group until 2011. So sue us. Yes, you knew about them first. Congrats, you're smart or something. Sorry that I have kids and a job and so if I hear something, sometimes it's not on its release date. It's a little formulaic, yes, with nearly every song starting as a soft ballad until beating itself into a banjo-friendly folk frenzy, and yes, there's a lot of singing the unusual "har" syllable, but this is good, uplifting music. I have not tired of this at all yet. Good music, and happy.

Choice track: "The Cave" is my favorite sing-along of the year.

Honorable Mention 4: King of Limbs/Supercollider &the Butcher/ The Daily Mail &Staircase by Radiohead

When sat next to In Rainbows (and its collection of bonus tracks), King of Limbs is a little disappointing. However, it's still Radiohead doing what they do best, with simplified sounds and complex drum tracks, understated guitar work, and great lyrics. They took a lot of heat for this one, mostly because everyone but me and the missus doesn't like trees I figure, but I've got to say following up In Rainbows was a near impossible task for anybody but the band who overpowered OK, Computer with Kid A. My only real complaint is it's far too short, but this was somewhat improved by the four extras songs they released as the year wore on.

Choice track: And it's one of these non-albums I like the best. "Supercollider."

Honorable Mention 5: Songbook by Chris Cornell

This is me eating some crow. A big Soundgarden and Audioslave fan, me, the recent performances of Cornell's I'd seen on TV and online had caused me to declare that he was washed up, that his voice was not up to the nickname he'd once earned as "The Robert Plant of Grunge." Okay, I don't know if anyone besides me ever called him that. Point is, I'm sorry. Dude can still sing. This collection of live acoustic performances from his recent tour has proven that he has come through his many transitions of the past decade and is still one of the most talented post-Seattle musicians going. I lucked onto this thing, and it was one of the most pleasant surprises of my year.

Choice track: Hear what he does on the stripped-down Audioslave rocker "Doesn't Remind Me."

Let's pause for moment to consider that three of Canada's best guitarists re-formed their blues fusion bands . . .

A. The Ground Cries Out by Jeff Martin/777

In March, I saw him in a teeny auditorium in Airdrie, playing this new album with a new band that, like all of his stuff since The Tea Party, sounds just like The Tea Party. In November, I saw him at Flames Central with the reunited Tea Party, playing mostly the same set lists as ten years ago and promising a new album in 2012. Sorry Jeff and Stu, but Jeff Martin was The Tea Party, and this album (his third solo-ish venture) shows it. He's a bit of a douche, sure, but Jefft Martin plays mean-ass guitar, and is one of the more philosophical songwriters in our nation's history.

Choice track. "The Cobra." Yes, it's about sex. Whaddya expect, it's Jeff Martin.

B. Revolution Per Minute by Big Sugar

Apparently Reggae is like the red onion in the fusion-sound salad, because they've always sampled it in the past but on this disc it's all I can taste. I mean, this is BIG Sugar, the loudest band I ever saw live. Gordie Johnson could make a six-string roar and introduced a lot of us to the purity of the blues. This is a fun album, sure, and I throw it on a lot because it's got great melodies for which to make my kids breakfasts in the morning. There, you hear that? MELODIES! The guitar, the Big Sugar sound, has taken a bit of a back seat to all out Marley-channeling. It's good, it's solid, but if you like Big Sugar for the reasons you should, it'll surprise you.

Choice track: "Roads Ahead."

C. No Bad Days by Wide Mouth Mason

Yay, Saskatoon! What a year for your bands! I thought these guys broke up. What, they did? And Gordie Johnson is playing bass for them? Then they toured with Big Sugar and Gordie played the whole shows for both bands? What, was he worried Jeff Martin was showing him up, work-ethic and band-compromise wise? Hmm, maybe that's why the guitar is so toned-down on BS's own release, because Gordie was too damn tired to solo. Or maybe because Shaun Verrault is intimidating, because that young lad is the best Canadian blues guitarist this side of Colin James. This is probably the most overlooked album of the year you need to hear.

Choice track: "Only the Young Die Good"

The Rest of the Good

Bon Iver by Bon Iver

Here's another of those groups I've heard about for a long time that I finally decided to get into. It's maybe a sign that it's a touch mellow for me that the best track is the one where they rock out a little, but this is good late night music. And I mean that in the 30-something sitting in your chair reading a book at 11:30 sense, not the dorm room after the bar sense.

Choice track: "Perth"

Metals by Feist

My, I guess I'm feeling mellow. Okay, it's not The Reminder, but it doesn't fall that short of it. It is what you have come to expect from this talented former Calgarian. Clever lyrics, one of the only good whisper voices in the game, and it's something you don't get in trouble for listening to when your wife's in the room. She has some of the best song titles out there, too.

Choice track: I've only had this album a little while, but I like "The Bad in Each Other" thanks to Newsboy.

James Blake by James Blake

This is part of the Dean trilogy. Three albums (the other two were Mumford and Sons and Fleet Foxes) that were introduced to me by my pal Dean on a visit to Seattle. This is by far the weirdest, but I like it. Even much more than Radiohead, this is an acquired taste. It sounds really good on high-quality bass systems, or expensive headphones. He does some weird stuff with his voice, but it all works. In this age of minimalism (where combining the White Stripes and Black Keys all you get is ONE full keyboard), this one works.

Choice track: The improperly-conjugated "I Never Learnt to Share" will give you a proper sense of his shiver-inducing simplicity.

So Beautiful or So What by Paul Simon

Yeah, I have Graceland, but this is the first Paul Simon album I ever went out for. Yeah, forty years into his career. Yeah, I know he's talented, but this is my mom's music. But my mom has good taste. I saw him perform last spring on Saturday Night Live, and I was stunned at how unbelievably refreshing his songwriting is, and he's been doing it since the 60s! It also doesn't hurt that he surrounds himself with some of the best musicians he can find (any Paul Simon album is a lesson in bass guitar). Some of the best selection of sounds, that is the actual composition of music, all year.

Choice track: "Rewrite"

Learn and Burn by the Sheepdogs

I've already written about these guys: http://vikingpaul.blogspot.com/2011/09/this-whole-sheepdogs-thingy.html It's a cool enough album with amazing dual-harmonic soloing and these funny little transition mini-songs.

Choice track: "I Don't Know." It's the song.

21 by Adele

I do not care if you're sick of hearing about her, she's amazing. My GAWD what a voice. And what fantastic arrangements! Blues, R and B (the good kind, not the booty kind), and the kind of vocals that make you wonder why anyone listens to Kei$ha.

Choice track: "Rumour Has It." Yeah, I know how good "Rolling in the Deep" is, but "Rumour" here needs to be concentrated on to listen to. Listen to how those tracks are used. Two vocal layers "Oo"ing, the drums, the lead vocals, then the bass. Wow, what she can do with layering.

Bad As Me by Tom Waits

Again, never bought anything by him before (no, not even Mule Variations). Much more aware of his work than I was with Bon Iver or TV on the Radio, but still hadn't taken the time to actively listen. He's like scotch. You've gotta be in the mood, but, son, if you're in it, there's not much better than a dram. That voice, those thumping sounds that pass for rhythm. Pure passion.

Choice track: "Hell Broke Luce"

Love Pt. 2 by Angels & Airwaves.

I still haven't seen the movie because I'm waiting until m'boy Arjay has a free night, but the second half of this "soundtrack" is as good as the first. A&A is one of those rare bands (Audioslave was the only other one I could think of) I like better than the original. When I heard Blink-182 was back together singing its "I wish I was 19 forever" nonsense rock, I thought this stuff was gone for good. Thanks A&A, for still pumping out good tunes. Hope the movie is worth seeing.

Choice track: "Saturday Love"

How to Train Your Dragon  and Rio soundtracks by John Powell

A year ago I had no idea who this composer was, and I listen to a lot of movie scores. Why do I even have these? My kids. I watch these movies with my kids. HTTYD struck me as good enough to buy after seeing it, but Rio has to be mentioned just because it is in the van. And it was one of the first things our 1 1/2 year old could sing. "Rio, Riiiiiiooooo." Every damn time we get in the van.

Choice tracks: HTTYD: "Test Drive". Rio: "Real in Rio." Play this last one a thousand times straight and you're in my hell. Even my dad knows the words.

PJ20 Soundtrack/Live on Ten Legs/"Ole"/Fan Club Holiday Single by Pearl Jam

What a year for these boys. Yes, I'm a fanboy, but I had to make note of the amount of good music (much of it live) my boys have been churning out after twenty years. Awesome, just awesome. And if "Ole" is any indicator of the new album, things are gonna be just fine in 2012. Oh, and see the movie.

Choice track: I dig the cover of Neil Young's "Walk With Me" performed with Neil Young on PJ20.

The Meh

They don't all suck. In fact, some are okay--they just fell way short. You disappoint me, I don't put your picture. That's the rule.

Helplessness Blues by Fleet Foxes
A lot of people like these guys. I don't not. I just don't like the whole Beach Boys meets Simon and Garfunkel thing as much as I thought I would. Considering the number of mellow albums I was into this year, I can't totally tell ya why I found this less than foxy. Just doesn't have a sound to me.

Hope and Ruin by The Trews
This one hurt my feelings. These guys are by far one of my favorite Canadian bands, and they've run pretty parallel to Sam Roberts. Ask me which I thought likelier to produce a sub-par album, I wouldn't have chosen the Trews. This isn't good no matter how hard I want it to be. The strong vocals and guitars are still there, but after three straight albums of constant hooks, it's hard to believe they could release one with none. I just hope they have a better one in them for next time, because I won't give up on them.

Megalithic Symphony by AWOLNATION
When I heard "Sail," introduced to me by a kid I teach, I thought this was the next big thing. But the rest of the album couldn't sound less like that awesome track. Funny enough, this kid also introduced me to Owl City's one song. Shoulda seen it coming.

Ukulele Songs by Eddie Vedder
See, I can be biased! Well, no. It's still pretty good. I like every song on it, just not all in one sitting. A whole album of ukulele is a little hard take, even when delivered by my musical hero.

Revolutions Live at Wembley by Biffy Clyro
First rule of recording a live album: screw around. Don't play the songs exactly as they appear on your albums, or it's just a greatest hits. Maybe an okay thing for those of you who have never appreciated this great band before--a little boring for me.

Hot Sauce Committee Part 2 by the Beastie Boys
If you're my age, you can remember when a Beastie Boys release was the event of the year. What the hell is this thing? I got through it twice, before realizing it was only getting worse.

El Camino by The Black Keys
I have to admit that I may have been the only person who didn't think Brothers was the Second Coming, just a really good album. Still, this falls way short. No, what it does is expose this band for what they are: uncreative. Simple, repetitive sounds are only further exposed as mediocre when they are this overproduced. Oh, and fellas, a song that sounds like Anthony from the Red Hot Chili Peppers singing for the Who ("Little Black Submarines) is like musical gender confusion. Just sayin.'

And THE most disappointing album of 2011:

A Dramatic Turn of Events by Dream Theater
Okay, maybe this makes you go "Who?" If so, choose that Black Keys shitstorm as numero uno. If you do know these guys, though, follow along. I was once obsessed with this band. Their last album Black Clouds and Silver Linings was okay, but it showed that they were starting to spin their wheels a bit. Even though Mike Portnoy was my favorite member, when he left, leaving a gap in half their songwriting and taking one of the best drummers in the world, I thought Dream Petrucchi would take advantage of this and . . . well I hoped they wouldn't use the Dream Theater name anymore. But since they did, I hoped they would go in a bold new direction. This  . . . thing is nothing but a declaration that the new band has no idea where to go. Sounds like someone trying to sound like DT's first few albums. So bad, from now on I'm going to start spelling their name the Canadian way. Screw you, what remains of Dream Theatre.

There, 2011, you're assessed.

Booklist 2011

As always, I've kept a list of the books I read over the year:

January

The Top 100 Canadian Albums by Bob Mesereau

The Forest Laird by Jack Whyte

Comfortably Numb: The Inside Story of Pink Floyd by Mark Blake

The Top 100 Canadian Singles by Bob Mersereau

February

The Worst Thing She Ever Did by Alice Kuipers

Maus by Art Spiegelman

WE3 by Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

March

The White Raven by Robert Low

Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes by Neil Gaiman

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway

Louis Riel by Chester Brown

April

A Doll’s House by Henrik Ibsen

The Village That Moved

May

The Wars by Timothy Findlay

The Book of Negroes by Lawrence Hill

Deathwatch by Robb White

100 Photos That Changed Canada by Mark Reid

June

The King’s Speech by Mark Logue and Peter Conradi

Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

July

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead by Tom Stoppard

Not Wanted on the Voyage by Timothy Findley

August

The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown

Flow Beyond the Weir by George Freeman

Beatrice & Virgil by Yann Martel

September

      26. The Rum Diary by Hunter S. Thompson

      27. The Music of Yes by Bill Martin

October

     28. Grunge is Dead by Greg Patro

     29. Of the Butterfly by Audrey Gene

     30. The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova

November

     31. Ottawa by James Hale

     32. Getting Things Done by David Allen

     33. Odd and the Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman

     34. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy (started in July)

     35. Can’t Buy Me Love by Jonathon Gould

December

     36. John Lennon: The Life by Philip Norman

     37. The Prow Beast by Robert Low

     38. PJ20

     39. 5x1 by Lance Mercer
     40. The Sisters Brothers by Patrick deWitt