Banalities and truisms

Pis j'étais comme tsé là, oh my god!

2009-06-14T20:46:00.002-04:00

A memo to the teenage girls outside my apartment window: Sure, I might not know exactly what it is that you're talking about, but I do know that it can't possibly be THAT funny.

Musings

2009-05-09T13:38:00.007-04:00

It seems like it's always acceptable for a québécois or québécoise to dislike an anglo. I've heard "crisse d'Anglais" more times than I care to count. It's interesting to me that it's frowned upon and shocking for an anglophone Quebecker to not like an Ontarionian, or to make sweeping generalizations about an English-speaking population. Racism is racism, isn't it?

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I've spent my fair share of time here in Quebec City feeling lonely (and worse, alone). What might be even worse is that now I have the additional anguish of missing one of the few people I had in this blasted city, someone I've become quite close to and developed strong feelings for (even if our "relationship" is up in the air). It's not so much that she's in Central America, or that she's going to be living 700km away for the summer and God knows where next year; at least I know she'll be coming back to someplace relatively near here. Problem is I don't know if she'll be coming back to me, and that's a scary feeling.

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So the EU is boycotting all our seal products. Ok, first things first: am I the only one who didn't know we exported that many seal products to begin with? But I digress. It seems the international community is in an uproar, calling the seal hunt a cruel and barbaric practice. Now, I'm all for animal rights, but here's my question: is the seal hunt actually so much more cruel than any other hunt, or is it just that seals are cute, and red blood stands out against white snow?

New body!

2009-05-04T18:23:00.001-04:00

Here it is, the new Strat body! Surf green!

New guitar project redux

2009-04-30T10:47:00.002-04:00

So the Telestar project is on the back burner (yet again). I think maybe I'm subconsciously afraid of messing up on that one or something. Anyway...

Last week I dropped the hammer on a replacement Strat body in Surf Green from eBay. It's going to be a projet long-terme, as I'm going to gather parts here and there when I have a few bucks. There's no rush. Here's what I'm planning:

Surf Green body (check); mint green pickguard, prewired with Golden Age pickups (from StewMac); one-piece maple neck; standard Strat trem bridge (with tremsetter); maybe some of those Steinberger keyless tuners (if not,seeing as how these don't really fit with the vintage aesthetic, probably locking tuners).

I'm planning this to be my vintage-style, purely rock n' roll guitar. No high-gain tones expected from this one, just surfy, spanky Stratoriffic sounds.

I will post pics of the body when it arrives.

2009-04-11T15:17:00.002-04:00

When translating, one must always avoid the temptation to "translate as you go." I'm writing this as much for me as for anyone else.

2009-04-10T18:31:00.002-04:00

I've been following Patrick Dion's blog for a little while now, because I think he has a lot to say and tends to say it in interesting ways (duh!). Yesterday's post on the ongoing education reform here in Quebec is particularly poignant, calling out bonehead ministers in Quebec City as well as airhead university students (present company excepted, of course). In any case, I won't retell the whole post; check it out here.

Rock and/or roll

2009-04-06T18:51:00.006-04:00

What is rock and roll? As hard to define and open to interpretation as any musical genre, "rock and roll" means a lot of different things to a lot of different people. As a fan of rock music, from rockabilly to classic rock, punk rock to metal and everything in between, I've got a few opinions on the subject myself.

But rap music is definitely not rock and roll. Or is it?

Yesterday, Run DMC (alongside Metallica) were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, a paradoxical and irreverent institution if ever there was one. Now, I'm not going to slag on rap music; musical tastes are very personal, everyone is allowed to have their own. Des goûts et des couleurs on ne discute point, says an old French proverb. Nor am I here to dismiss Run DMC as musicians, or to discredit their importance in rap history or popular culture.

To me, rock and roll implies rebellion, youthful swagger, and attitude. Rap has this in spades. Rockers are often (though certainly not always) activists in some way, as are some (but not all) rappers. Rock is driving, with a heavy backbeat; it should make you want to move, or at least make your blood course a little faster. What is rap if not a beat?

However, rock and roll to me also suggests loud guitars, big drums, pyrotechnics and stage theatrics, girls flashing breasts on concert screens. Especially guitars. So to me, it's clear that rap is definitely not rock and roll. But do the two genres share certain qualities? Absolutely. Does this mean that rappers belong in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? To be honest, I had started writing this post with the intention of lamenting Run DMC's induction, but after thinking it over, I'm not so sure of my own indignation.

The Hall of Fame's inductees (and omissions) have more than stirred up a little controversy in the past, and the criteria for induction have always been a little unclear, or at least questionable. What's more important: record sales? talent? influence? Try and figure out why The Stooges still have yet to be given the nod and maybe things will be a little clearer. But if the goal of the Hall of Fame is to celebrate the spirit of rock and roll, then maybe artists like Run DMC should be invited to the party. After all, who likes to party more than rappers and rock and rollers?

Album review: Mastodon, "Crack the Skye"

2009-04-04T21:42:00.003-04:00

If Remission was fire, Leviathan water, and Blood Mountain earth, then Crack the Skye is Mastodon’s ether album. Expansive, plodding, and sometimes dreamy, it showcases a different side of this influential Atlanta foursome.

Musically, much of Mastodon’s signature sound remains untouched. Bret Hinds and Bill Kelliher’s endlessly looping riffs abound, drummer Brann Dailor is still content to play 16 notes where 4 would suffice, and the songs themselves are as unstable as ever, shifting gears on a dime (the sudden jazzy breakdown in “The Last Baron” is a particularly jarring example). But there is a newfound sense of melody, dare I say elegance to this record. Vocals are cleaner and more structured, and the impressive lead guitar work manages to be both fiery and melodic.

The majestic “The Czar,” the album’s 11-minute centrepiece, sums up the album beautifully. After the pop psychedelia of part I (“Usurper”), part II (“Escape”) kicks in with a flat-out metal groove. More classic Mastodon riffing follows as the song continues to evolve, morphing and switching moods and feels right up to its denouement.

Lyrically, Crack the Skye covers a different range of emotions than any of Mastodon’s previous efforts. Gone are Leviathan’s crushing, anguished frustrations and Blood Mountain’s survivalist paranoia. Crack the Skye is otherworldly and spacey, a record of oblivion, of the ethereal. “Please take my soul to rest/so we can always be around/it is hard to see/through all the haze at the top of the trees/hold my head on stable ground/watch as the earth falls all around,” sings the final track’s protagonist, adrift somewhere in a realm beyond.

Make no mistake; Mastodon are still a relentlessly heavy American metal band, and Crack the Skye crushes. But their music, in particular the music contained on this album, is smarter than most. It manages to kick you both in the ass and in the brain. Mastodon have making waves since 2001 and the release of the Lifesblood EP, and show no sign of slowing down. Get out of the way.

Industry standard

2009-04-02T10:25:00.006-04:00

Some time ago, I happened to meet a manager of an English-language education network here in Quebec that also translates textbooks. Naturally, I introduced myself, and offered my services, either for work or for an internship. I submitted my resume. Then I waited.

At least two months later, I got a reply. "Are you still interested in working for us?" the lady on the phone asked. Of course I was, or I wouldn't have applied in the first place. "A test," she said. "You must fill out a test."

This test is well over 1000 words long, difficult, and requires fitting images and text boxes into a Word document, which is always a joyful experience. We have been warned on more than one occasion in school about companies using absurdly long "tests" as a way of getting translations for free, and in fact, my test was part of the document the manager had described to me as "our current project."Needless to say, I was somewhat wary.

It seems that the industry standard length is about 250 words, and no more than 500. This, combined with the fact that I am absolutely swamped with school and other translation work (which means I wouldn't have had time to do a good job on the whole document), led me to submit the first page of three, for a total of about 370 words.

Here is the reply:

"I read your message and got your communication. However,I have received more than a dozen completed tests from people who have years of experience and complied with our requirement. It is standard practice in the industry.

I really don't know what will happen with your test -- if that will be considered sufficient to be reviewed. If you read all 3 pages you are aware that there were two different sections required to be translated."

Needless to say, I probably won't get the job. But that's ok; the fact that it took two months for them to get back to me, and the sketchiness of this test make me question just what kind of client this would have been anyway.

Thank you for bein' a friend

2009-03-19T18:26:00.005-04:00

Note: From this point onward, I will attempt to make my blog less depressing.

You remember what is was like when you were a kid and you had a toy that was your absolute, uncontested favourite? You played with it incessantly, and probably dragged it with you most everywhere you went. You loved that inanimate hunk of plastic (or plush, as the case may be). You were devoted to it. You would never leave it behind. Remember that feeling?

Remember getting a new toy?

Suddenly, your world is upside-down, and your old favourite toy is relegated to the toy box. What a piece of crap that thing was, eh? Hard to believe you ever played with that. What an idiot you were. What poor taste.

Remember Pixar's classic Toy Story? Woody gets replaced in this way by Buzz Lightyear, that flashy winged bastard, and hilarity ensues. But in the end, the kid (whose name escapes me, and IMDB is just so far away...) learns to love both his toys, and everyone lives happily ever after. God I love that movie.

Anyway, believe it or not, there is a point to all of this. I've recently fallen back in love with my first electric guitar, the famous Ms. Jackson. For some time I had dismissed her, I mean it, as a cheap p.o.s., and relegated it to the back of the guitar stand in favour of the Yellow Guitar. But lately I have rediscovered the fact that the thing absolutely fucking rips! Especially with the Seymour Duncan humbucker I had installed a couple of years ago and my 50-watt Peavey ValveKing.

I have thus come to love all of my guitars as individuals, and stopped measuring them against one another. They are like children; they are all special, in their own unique way.

So thank you Ms. Jackson, for being there, and being patient. And especially for rocking so damn hard.

Ms. Jackson: isn't she sexy?

The single life

2009-03-14T18:07:00.002-04:00

I'm kinda sick, feeling bored and unmotivated, and dying for something to do tonight. Yay!

In other news, I'm still single. Definitely still single, but there is a bright light on the horizon. A few weeks ago, I was preemptively rejected by a friend of mine I had asked to dinner (as a friend thing, not as a date). I'll spare you all the details; you can read about it here.

Anways, I've really come to like this girl, and so I finally bit the bullet a few days ago and asked her to reconsider going on a date with me. Strange thing is, she didn't say yes, but neither did she say no. She said she's enjoying being single, but that she is interested in me. She wants to think about it. Gah.

I tried my best to convince her, without being too forceful and scaring her away. I told her we had nothing to lose, that there was no pressure, since neither of us is looking for anything too serious, but also that I thought she was beautiful and generally fantastic.

Thursday night we spooned while watching tv. It was amazing. Here's hoping.

No ice cream thanks, I'd like some crow on my humble pie

2009-03-09T21:26:00.004-04:00

Most people who know me know that I have a burning desire to play in a rock band. A friend of mine is in a band, and last semester he invited me to jam with them (well, it was just him on bass and his guitarist/singer friend). Frankly, it wasn't that fun because they don't play cover songs, only their own material, and I didn't know any of their songs. Also, the guitarist played an electric acoustic, and everything sounded weird and jangly to my ears. I must also confess that i told people how much I didn't like them.

My, how things can change.

After acquiring a drummer and dropping the acoustic for a raunchy electric sound, I dig this band, especially "Cute Eyes" and "The Bottom Line". I want to play guitar for them. I've never been offered a place, but I have been asked to do some leads for one song. Hopefully this pans out.

Here's the rub. My friend sends me demos of their songs, and I actually think they're really good now. Not only does this make me feel like a hypocrite, but it makes me second guess my own songwriting abilities, since I haven't really been able to write vocal melodies or lyrics, and everything I've written seems repetitive and boring now. But somehow this seems like a good thing, like it'll force me to be less complacent and to work harder at composing and creating and being original. I'm really impressed by these guys, and strangely inspired.

Now I just need to learn to sing.

2009-03-04T21:32:00.004-05:00

Wow, parts of that last post sound really bitter. It makes it sound like I'm against thinking, which is not the case at all. I guess I'm against thinking too much. A fine line, I know.

Wax on, wax off, part I

2009-03-04T09:23:00.003-05:00

We sure like to talk. And think. Prophesize and proselytize. Wax philosophic.

Today is the NHL trade deadline, and TSN has "complete coverage." SIX HOURS with a panel of "experts" predicting who will go where, discussing fantasy trades and generally not doing anything that serves any real purpose. Sports commentator is just one of the many roles we've created in our society that I just don't understand.

Ditto for critics, reality tv show hosts and participants and most modern-day philosophers.

Imagine all the things we would have accomplished if we didn't waste all our time thinking about accomplishing them or contemplating what it would mean to do so. Is there a God? Why argue it, since you will never know? Unless of course He/She does exist, in which case you won't know for sure until you're dead anyway.

For instance, in my translation grad seminars we often have to read theoretical articles about what it is to translate and how we should go about it. Don't get me wrong; it is important (and often interesting) to study such things to a certain degree. One needs to learn how to speak and think about one's chosen field of study, and such articles certainly help in that regard, as well as in helping shape the particular approach one will choose to take, but there comes a point when you need to just shut up and do it. What is translation? Taking something in one language and saying it in another. Punto.

Also, 50% of translation studies scholars are not translators. I think there's a flaw in that logic...maybe I should meditate on it, and publish a philosophical treatise...or a vague, long-winded scholarly article...I'd have to make sure not to define any terms or concepts though...

New guitar project

2009-03-01T12:36:00.005-05:00

Well, it has been decided. My next guitar project will be the infamous Telestar. I pulled it out today and played it for a while, and it plays and sounds better than I remember. There are just a few bugs to fix in terms of playability (some pops, scratches, fret outs, buzzing, etc.), but it needs some fairly important cosmetic touches. What remains to be seen is how exhaustive a project this will be...and whether or not to go with sparkle paint again.

So far, this is what I've got in mind:

-strip and refinish the body
-replace grubby hardware
-new tuners/bridge
-new pickguard
-remove toggle switch (since it doesn't do anything)

I might look into replacing the neck, but I haven't decided yet. Same goes for changing the position of the bridge. I'm also not sure what to do about the pickups: I love the way they look with that white plastic insert, but they sound kinda dead and they're really grubby. We shall see.

Pics to come in the future.

edit: Maybe lipstick pickups are the way to go. It would certainly tie in with that funky, retro vibe...

If opinions are like assholes, then ideas are like...?

2009-02-28T19:04:00.003-05:00

Ideas. We all have them. Sadly, not all of us know what to do with them.

I have a blog. Why, I have no clue. Do I have anything valid to say? Probably. But most of the time, I find blogging frustrating, like most other creative outlets.

I have artistic aspirations. I've dabbled in writing short stories and poetry. I dream of one day writing a novel. But I'm never satisfied with what I write. Cliché. Predictable. Derivative. The words are there, swimming around in my brain, but they seldom find their way out. I can't even write lyrics to to the songs I write.

I make music; it might just be my best skill, but again I never feel like I can do justice to what's going on inside my head. I lack the skill. As a result, the music I write would probably seem contrived and pedestrian to anyone else. Boring.

Blogging was supposed to be an outlet for my creative pretensions. The Web, the free interchange of ideas, freedom of expression. Freedom of creation. But even now, I'm seldom happy with my blog posts, and most peter off and don't get finished. Who am I to think anyone would want to read what I have to say? Why should my opinions count for anything, when everyone's got an opinion?

The Internet is full of pretensious people making bad poetry (see previous post), amateurish music, drab art, etc., but there are also people out there doing great things. Amazing, incredible, brilliant things. I am a creative person, why do I always feel like I barely even qualify for the first group?

I do have ideas. Sometimes I think I have good ideas. If only I knew what to do with them.

An experiment in internet "poetry," part I

2009-02-26T21:23:00.004-05:00

La pompiste

Girls who work at gas stations
are rebellious. Don't work in the boutiques.
Like their friends do.

Pumping gas in the rain
or snow,
they won't smile at you.
They're too cool for that - too Rock n' Roll, too Punk.

Too "Emo."

But they will wear purple
nail polish with their
work boots, work shirts and
reflective jackets.

Hmm....

2009-02-25T20:34:00.000-05:00

Is it weird to have a blog and to want people to read it, but to not want those people to be people I know?

The 15-second loop

2009-02-25T11:02:00.002-05:00

For the entire bus ride home yesterday, I sat near a man who, to my untrained eyes, had an obvious mental deficiency, despite the fact he was carrying a large file folder full of paperasse from the University. Although, bureaucracy being what it is, perhaps that is not so shocking.

In any case, the man was listening to some type of dance/R&B music on a Discman (old-school, I know) at what was an uncomfortable listening level for those of us seated around him. It must have been absolutely deafening inside his own head. What struck me was the fact that he was listening to the same loop of music, the first fifteen seconds of a certain track, over and over.

I was on the bus for about twenty minutes, and he continued to start the track over after hearing the passage he enjoyed the entire time. He was already on the bus when I got on, so who knows how long he did this.

Today's lesson: sometimes, people are a little eccentric.
Bonus lesson: sometimes, when it's just right, music can be greatest feeling in the world (I call this the goosebump effect)