Witchcraft

For the few of you that read my pithy works,you'll no doubt have suffered slim dissapointment as a result of me skipping a week.So,sit back,relax with whatever you use and let me take you away.It's going to be a long one so strap yourself in.

On Tuesday,Kristen and I were due to visit the Godin Factory,which is in Quebec.Sadly I tossed the number for it and had to deal with the French.Their people have done little to ingratiate themselves with your humble scribe so it should ccome as no surprise that I don't have anything positive to say,but the attitude of the chap on the 411 service(their 11 was apalling,galling(boom boom!)and unhelpful,especially as I found their number myself.We didn't get to go but we did make a journey to Ottowa,where I finally visited the Parliament buildings.Anyone can walk up and take in this warm and charming architecture,take photos and gaze across the river towards Quebec.There's a fire there that burns in a fountain,which was incredible to see as I haven't witnessed that before.Lots of people were photographing it,although I missed out because of phone issues.There's a bell round the back of the building,next to the mammoth raccoon that they were feeding on the grounds(!)which was part of the old belltower.The belltower was consumed by fire,and the sargeant at arms wrote;'The crowd were enamoured of the flames,and yet they were moved as one by the striking of the hour of midnight from the bell as the tower burned'.This was a profoundly moving image for me-the people,gathered together through this tragedy,hearing the peal of the bell through the fire,a defiant stroke in the face of this all-consuming adversity.

Prior to this I visited Steve's Guitar again,and ruined yet another brand for myself by trying out an ESP Eclipse with a garish paintjob.Loaded with the ever popular EMG 81/85 set of active pickups this particular creature was all about the wail.No jazz is possible on such an instrument,no deft,subtle articulation,only raging powerchords,wailing solos and general chuggery,and I was aghast at it's inability to move outside it's long-haired,brutal comfort zone.This should have come as no surprise,and yet I was dissapointed.The balance was there,the shape was there,but the guitar felt stiff,unloving,resilient to this Strat-fancier attempting to play delicate,sombre music.I also purchased a nice sweater from the Gap,one of the items in my new(and terribly exicting for those reading I'm sure)wardrobe as I try and dress my age,shaping myself into a proper 27 year old instead of an old man in young mans' rags.I have done much thinking in my time here,as will have been evident,no doubt,in my previous columns.Many things have I come to realise.

If I may be confessional for a period,I have changed.Not in a comic stance-my desire to share anecdotes,musician stories and non-felt racism have not changed,but my attitude towards myself and to the world around me is altered.Many is the time I have avoided/delayed courses of action to keep myself in a safe status quo,a situation where no difficulty is possible,but this is not the way.I have denied myself certain paths as a result of wishing to keep myself free from harm,free from dissidence,from contradiction at the hands and mouths of my peers.I have severed relationships,friendships even,for fear of not being cool(whatever that is),and for fear of being out of my social depth.Many is the ime I have felt outclassed by my social group,unable to defend my views and fearful of judgement at the hands of those I hold dear.I have not acted when and where I should have because of a pre-concieved notion of what is right and what is expected.You see,there is a man,who lives inside my mind,who is not afraid,who is confident,handsome,well dressed,musically able and socially accepted,even liked and loved by those around him.I am not that man.I am the man I think I am-slightly awkward,with silly hair(hence my constant shaving)and not as accomplis

The Crying Game

This week has been the most difficult and rewarding of the trip.I attended the funeral of Janet Lascelle today,aka Kristen's gran,a truly valued family member who succumbed to pancreatic cancer. As you can imagine this was a highly emotionally charged period of time for the family, which is quite large,and with me as the new boy I was in the line-up to meet and greet at the wake.The wake takes place before the funeral here,something I wasn't used to from back home where we tend to have the funeral first and the wake after.A staggering number of people came to pay tribute to Janet,everyone from close family to extended family,distant relatives,old friends(some of them in their 90's),friends of friends, friends of friends of friends.Hand after hand came my way-so you're the...sorry for your loss...where in Scotland...what do you do...the small talk that one must initiate at such an event.This is not to decry such sentiments or the people who make them-every word said was meant and delivered with sincerity,but so many people were being introduced to me that I had trouble keeping up.

In the midst of the tears, the stories with their subdued laughter, and the children who don't quite understand what's going on, I thought about my own experiences with death. As many of you know I worked for a time at a memorial masons on the south side, providing those who had lost a loved one with the neccessary stones to mark their graves-easily the most rewarding job I've had and one I intend to return to-but I have sadly attended many funerals.I'm sure as I get older that this won't change and that I have many more to attend but although saddened by the death of an individual I have never been deeply affected by it.All people,even the Krishnas(who think their bodies are like cars)have thought of their own death at one time or another.I have often contemplated my own;what it would be like,who would be there,what songs I would play,who would say what,whether or not to have a viking burial,the usual.Often,I imagined,I would die a hero's death,defending a group of kids from a bear,diving into the sea with a liner-bound bomb,being the last man surrounded by bloodthirsty foes,and have never balked at the idea of passing as long as it was for a reason.You don't want to die and just go,you want it to be in a valiant struggle against something,firing all your guns at once,punching the enemy in the face on your two broken legs.'Greater love hath no man than this,that a man lay down his life for his friends',my father would always quote to me.I reserve the greatest respect for those struck down at inopportune times,those who had more to give,the ones where it doesn't make sense.We want to save them,to stop it,to reach in and take out whatever is causing the anguish,even force it on ourselves,anything to ease their suffering.And after they pass we regret not telling them things,not being there,not appreciating them.My father told me that when his dad passed away there was a lot of unsaid things between them,a lot of unfinished business,and that he didn't want to be that way with me.For those of you who have lost people very close to you,I am truly,truly sorry.

When the times comes for me,I'd like my friends to speak truthfully,to tell stories that I was involved in that make them smile,remember in-jokes that we shared,wear all the colours of the rainbow,and honour my playlist,which I have written below:

Pink Floyd-Time(either band or orchestral version)
Current 93-Idumae(Bonny Prince Billy Version)
Radiohead-Anyone Can Play Guitar(and they won't be a nothing anymore:_) )
Manic Street Preachers-This Is Yesterday
Bon Jovi-Wanted Dead Or Alive

I'd like to think that those who knew me the most would ignore this utterly(apart from the first and last songs)and make their own playlist,kind of like a 'John Mix Tape'.That would tell me more about what they thought of me than any story or anything,although I'd still like a eulogy.

The Ten Cobandments(ho ho)

Composed while listening to CMT-that's country music television(yee ha)

This week seems to have passed so quickly.

Kristen's working a lot at the moment,getting up at 5 and such to work her two jobs,and as a result of my temporary status few places will employ me,so I've been catching up with an old friend,gaming.One purchase of AV cable has let me back into the charming and hour-decimating world of console gaming through the portal of Zelda carina Of Time.The beauty of this in my current state is that I play it mostly with my left hand,easing the tension on my fragile right hand.As many of you know,gaming an guitars are fairly important to me,and so without both of these things I'm just a bored,but handsome devil.I hated Zelda on the 'Cube-it always felt like I was trying to second guess where to go,but that's just the way I was feeling at the time I guess.

Onto more interesting matters-Wednesday sees me going to see the doc about my ruined paw,and also giving my talk to the kids at Naismith school regarding the joys and otherwise of band life.This topic has been on my mind ever since I was asked to do it,and after weighing up the pros and cons I've decided to go with a Q&A after a brief introduction.There's a set of rules I think every band must follow,whether big or small,which I'll share with you.So,in no particular order:

1.Thou Shalt Not Compromise:a band/solo artist should never change their vision according to trends.To do such a thing results in albums like St. Anger,diluting your worth and in extreme cases,losing the point of what made you come together in the first place.This isn't to say that bands shouldn't change,as it is the nature of a creative medium to evolve as you learn,but don't forget why you started doing what you're doing.

2.Thou Shalt Not Boast on't let your mouth write cheques your ass can't cash.If you can't play,you will be found out.The focus of the industry is changing more to live music than ever as the Internet slowly robs the big companies of the ability to control their artists,and if you get out there and blow you're on the toilet circuit and working in a call centre.This can break your spirit forever,so don't say I didn't warn you.

3a.Thou Shalt Have Gear ersons who turn up to gigs knowing full well they don't have enough equipment to perform,and haven't informed the other acts well in advance,will be cast out and labelled forever as moochers,liars,cocks etc.If you really want to get ahead,sort out your backline in advance,talk to all the other bands on the bill and make sure all your equipment is working because....

3b.Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Friend's Bands' Ass:If you have to lend gear to someone(because the gig won't go ahead-and ONLY in this scenario unless they followed 3a)make sure you know what's working and what's not,and what noise something should make if it's working/not working.Do NOT turn up to borrow another band's gear and then wreck it.If you're the kind of person that behaves this way you should never have been in a band in the first place and you deserve whatever disease,mugging or house fire that's coming to you.

4.Thou Shalt Retain Thy Humanity:Even the biggest bands have to do laundry,go to the toilet,make a sandwich and tune up,so don't get ahead of yourself.I should have made this rule one on account of the number of idiots I've met over the years who've played 3 gigs and think they're at Carnegie Hall.If you've ever been to see a band live you should realise that everyone has the same potential for a rubbish sound,a broken string,a shagged-out amplifier or,God forbid,a keyboard.By this standard,even if you've got a string of platinum records under your belt and women/men fastened to your groin,don't forget what the first gig was like.I remember mine and it was a vital part of the rest of my life,so don't act the king because you've done it more than once.If you're an old hand and you're playing with young bucks