I'm back at Hansard, having shed the shackles of customer service once again. I'm hard on myself when it comes to the job. I've got to learn to not be so hard on myself. I want to do well, but I have to remember that it will continue to be a learning process for a while. Hopefully this time around I'll have a steadier schedule to rely on. We'll see what this week brings. Either way, it looks like I'll have a week off in February.
I finished reading "Heavier than Heaven," and I found it to be a great, interesting read despite Cross' forays into dramatic purpose. It was hard to finish, since it's essentially the tale of a man with an almost supernatural drug habit slowly and then suddenly killing himself. Fascinating nonetheless. Kurt Cobain is a subject I seem to feel the need to revisit intently every few years to gain a newer perspective.
I've been writing music lately, far more often than I've been writing words. It's what comes out of my need to create something, and now that I have a general hold on writing music on a computer I feel like the outlet is completely in place. I think about where I might be able to take it - in the near future, a gig or three, and hopefully some studio time within the next year. I'd really like music to become as big a part of my artistic life as it once was. Lately it's been fruitful. I've recorded seven originals and three covers, the latest of which has driven up my myspace page hits by about 20% in the last two days alone. I'm looking at the songs I'm recording in my bedroom right now as demos. I'm putting them online in lieu of a demo tape to pass around. For the time being, I'm happy with the momentum I'm building.
A couple of posts ago I mentioned that I had quite a lot on my mind. I've been thinking a bit about Ottawa and the kind of city it's become. Lack of public transportation, lack of government and the palpable sense of a sinking morale amongst the city's art communities have made it a hard place to like lately. My perception of Ottawa has changed. It's starting to seem smaller and smaller. I've been admitting to myself quite strongly lately that I'm not going to stay here for the rest of my life. I've been making it a point to leave. Maybe not next year or the year after, but I know I won't be here forever. There is too much to see, and too much to do.
That said, I'm generally quite happy with life right now. I'm looking forward to returning to a steadier income and putting some money into traveling. It will be an eventful year, and I'm just now falling under the impression that the year has finally started.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
From Jack Endino's website, producer of bands from Nirvana to Hot Hot Heat:
"I don't know how to sell 'em or promote 'em. I'm a freelance studio guy, not a record company guy.
However, I was once in a band and learned a thing or two. Here's some steps a typical 'rock band' should follow:
1) Make a tape, any quality at all. Use it to get...
2) gigs. Play lots of gigs and get...
3) fans. Get better at playing and get...
4) lots of fans. If you get enough fans, and you play well enough, it will...
5) get people talking about you. At THAT point, not before, you can consider...
6) making a better sounding tape, and either...
7) send it around, or...
8) release it yourself on a CD, or BOTH. If you release anything yourself, you can get...
9) reviews. Send it to 'zines. People read these. If you can...
10) make enough of a buzz, the record industry will either come to you, or pathways will present themselves for you to get your foot in the door so to speak (thru people you meet, other bands that like you, etc). Good luck."
Still on step one.
"I don't know how to sell 'em or promote 'em. I'm a freelance studio guy, not a record company guy.
However, I was once in a band and learned a thing or two. Here's some steps a typical 'rock band' should follow:
1) Make a tape, any quality at all. Use it to get...
2) gigs. Play lots of gigs and get...
3) fans. Get better at playing and get...
4) lots of fans. If you get enough fans, and you play well enough, it will...
5) get people talking about you. At THAT point, not before, you can consider...
6) making a better sounding tape, and either...
7) send it around, or...
8) release it yourself on a CD, or BOTH. If you release anything yourself, you can get...
9) reviews. Send it to 'zines. People read these. If you can...
10) make enough of a buzz, the record industry will either come to you, or pathways will present themselves for you to get your foot in the door so to speak (thru people you meet, other bands that like you, etc). Good luck."
Still on step one.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
I've had a lot on my mind lately, and I've been meaning to write one of these journal thingies, but I suppose I wasn't done thinking. I'm still not. So it goes.
The new year has gotten off to a bit of a slow start. I'm running low on money, so I've been watching my spending for the last couple of weeks while trying to scrape together a living at Haven books, a student-owned and run bookstore that caters to Carleton University syllibi. I've been walking to and from work, 40 minutes each way, and it's been good exercise. At first I felt tired and really ached from walking so much and standing for such long periods of time, but I'm more used to it now since I started the routine. I have two more shifts to work next week. At the very least it's been a friendly reminder of why I never, ever want to return to the customer service industry again. I've done my time.
One of the neat things about the job, however, is the fact that I can spend my half hour break at the Second Cup at Bank and Sunnyside. I used to go for breaks at that same coffee shop when I worked as a technical writer for the 3-Way Street Corporation. When I can, I sit in the window, reading and sipping a caramel corretto, sensing the tiniest hint of nostalgia for the early part of 2006, when I was writing my undergraduate honours thesis while working two jobs to make ends meet. I've been reading Charles R. Cross' biography of Kurt Cobain, Heavier than Heaven, and it's hard to describe the impact it's having on me. It will have to wait for a later update.
Tomorrow morning I'm testing for a full-time position at the House, knowing full well it's a position I probably won't get. I'm only taking the test because several people on the floor coerced me into it. I feel like it's going to make some kind of statement of which I'm not even aware, but one that should be made. By me. Maybe?
More to come. Much more.
The new year has gotten off to a bit of a slow start. I'm running low on money, so I've been watching my spending for the last couple of weeks while trying to scrape together a living at Haven books, a student-owned and run bookstore that caters to Carleton University syllibi. I've been walking to and from work, 40 minutes each way, and it's been good exercise. At first I felt tired and really ached from walking so much and standing for such long periods of time, but I'm more used to it now since I started the routine. I have two more shifts to work next week. At the very least it's been a friendly reminder of why I never, ever want to return to the customer service industry again. I've done my time.
One of the neat things about the job, however, is the fact that I can spend my half hour break at the Second Cup at Bank and Sunnyside. I used to go for breaks at that same coffee shop when I worked as a technical writer for the 3-Way Street Corporation. When I can, I sit in the window, reading and sipping a caramel corretto, sensing the tiniest hint of nostalgia for the early part of 2006, when I was writing my undergraduate honours thesis while working two jobs to make ends meet. I've been reading Charles R. Cross' biography of Kurt Cobain, Heavier than Heaven, and it's hard to describe the impact it's having on me. It will have to wait for a later update.
Tomorrow morning I'm testing for a full-time position at the House, knowing full well it's a position I probably won't get. I'm only taking the test because several people on the floor coerced me into it. I feel like it's going to make some kind of statement of which I'm not even aware, but one that should be made. By me. Maybe?
More to come. Much more.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
From Wikipedia, everyone's favourite online encyclopedia:
Generation X is a term used to group people born after the post-World War II increase in birth rates (the Baby Boom), from roughly 1965 to 1980. While 1965 remains a commonly recognized first birth year for Generation X, other proposed ranges include: the late 1950s and 1960s, 1968 to 1979, 1964 to 1980, or 1961 to 1981.
Generation Y, sometimes referred to as "Millennials" or "Net Generation" is the group of people born anywhere between the second half of the 1970's and anywhere from the mid 1990s to around the year 2000, depending on the source.
I was born on November 7th, 1979. When I think of Generation X in active context, I think of the 1990's from about 1992-1997, when I was 12-17 years old and enjoyed the popularity of grunge music and alternative pop. When I think of Generation Y's beginnings, I think of the rise in popularity of boy bands, young female pop singers and rap metal. I think of the generational split in terms of the dramatic change in popular music, brought about by the death of Kurt Cobain.
Now. What am I? I've often defined myself as having been born at the tail end of Generation X. I've always felt as though I WANTED to be a part but was never ACTUALLY a part of the generation that now runs or is about to run things in North America. When I was 14, I watched men and women in their 20's on my television set with envy and a sense of personal identification. As a teenager I armed myself with a drive to CHANGE the way the world was, keeping myself forever open to the new, in spite of the fact that I really had no idea how the world had been working, nor what was wrong with the way it was working.
The more I look back at the 90's in retrospect, the more I think I understand. Bill Clinton was elected the American president in 1992 after 12 years of a Republican White House. America was coming out of a war and the youth had trouble understanding exactly what they were inheriting out of the capitalist consumer focus of the 80's. I remember it most in the music. Without knowing anything about politics or money, I tapped into the unabashed purity of chord changes and screams from shaggy-haired singers. For a few years I felt in perfect sync with the voices and attitudes I saw in Much Music interviews.
But Gen X grew up just before I did, leaving me to flounder in my late teens and early twenties in the swill of modern pop. I was so incredibly bitter about the change. How DARE these new bands and singers and attitudes replace what had been such a perfect expression of soul-spoken angst and a willingness to establish a better order of things? After a while I understood. It's all marketing. It's always been about what sells. I was sold the identity I adopted as a young Gen X-er riding the tip of the whipcrack, and I told myself it was a lucky coincidence that the Kool-Aid I drank was laced with honesty and sincerity.
I was too young to help define Generation X, and I canceled out my association with Generation Y by despising its contributions to popular culture. I guess the conclusion here is that even defining generations themselves is up to marketing firms. They're demographics. But dammit, I've always wanted to be a part of one. I've wanted to make decisions that would change the world for the better. I've wanted to shoulder the responsibility of a society. I've wanted to turn to others and point out the mistakes of our predecessors so that they wouldn't be repeated.
Maybe the problem is that "predecessors" have turned into last year's leader instead of last generation's. My old man is right. Things move quickly these days, maybe too quickly. They slip through your grasp, and no one can quite explain who they are as a result. I know I can't.
Generation X is a term used to group people born after the post-World War II increase in birth rates (the Baby Boom), from roughly 1965 to 1980. While 1965 remains a commonly recognized first birth year for Generation X, other proposed ranges include: the late 1950s and 1960s, 1968 to 1979, 1964 to 1980, or 1961 to 1981.
Generation Y, sometimes referred to as "Millennials" or "Net Generation" is the group of people born anywhere between the second half of the 1970's and anywhere from the mid 1990s to around the year 2000, depending on the source.
I was born on November 7th, 1979. When I think of Generation X in active context, I think of the 1990's from about 1992-1997, when I was 12-17 years old and enjoyed the popularity of grunge music and alternative pop. When I think of Generation Y's beginnings, I think of the rise in popularity of boy bands, young female pop singers and rap metal. I think of the generational split in terms of the dramatic change in popular music, brought about by the death of Kurt Cobain.
Now. What am I? I've often defined myself as having been born at the tail end of Generation X. I've always felt as though I WANTED to be a part but was never ACTUALLY a part of the generation that now runs or is about to run things in North America. When I was 14, I watched men and women in their 20's on my television set with envy and a sense of personal identification. As a teenager I armed myself with a drive to CHANGE the way the world was, keeping myself forever open to the new, in spite of the fact that I really had no idea how the world had been working, nor what was wrong with the way it was working.
The more I look back at the 90's in retrospect, the more I think I understand. Bill Clinton was elected the American president in 1992 after 12 years of a Republican White House. America was coming out of a war and the youth had trouble understanding exactly what they were inheriting out of the capitalist consumer focus of the 80's. I remember it most in the music. Without knowing anything about politics or money, I tapped into the unabashed purity of chord changes and screams from shaggy-haired singers. For a few years I felt in perfect sync with the voices and attitudes I saw in Much Music interviews.
But Gen X grew up just before I did, leaving me to flounder in my late teens and early twenties in the swill of modern pop. I was so incredibly bitter about the change. How DARE these new bands and singers and attitudes replace what had been such a perfect expression of soul-spoken angst and a willingness to establish a better order of things? After a while I understood. It's all marketing. It's always been about what sells. I was sold the identity I adopted as a young Gen X-er riding the tip of the whipcrack, and I told myself it was a lucky coincidence that the Kool-Aid I drank was laced with honesty and sincerity.
I was too young to help define Generation X, and I canceled out my association with Generation Y by despising its contributions to popular culture. I guess the conclusion here is that even defining generations themselves is up to marketing firms. They're demographics. But dammit, I've always wanted to be a part of one. I've wanted to make decisions that would change the world for the better. I've wanted to shoulder the responsibility of a society. I've wanted to turn to others and point out the mistakes of our predecessors so that they wouldn't be repeated.
Maybe the problem is that "predecessors" have turned into last year's leader instead of last generation's. My old man is right. Things move quickly these days, maybe too quickly. They slip through your grasp, and no one can quite explain who they are as a result. I know I can't.
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