I had been wanting to see the 1970 Woodstock documentary for a few weeks before I finally broke down and picked up a copy of the new 2-disc 40th anniversary edition director's cut. I watched it over a couple of days. It's pretty phenomenal.

Lately I've been feeling a compulsion to investigate some of the history of popular music. This time last month I probably couldn't have identified a quarter of the acts that played at the Woodstock festival. Now I know how powerful Joe Cocker's cover of "With a Little Help From My Friends" was, and how it stood as an anthem for a generation of young people who wanted to put a stop to a war they thought was unjust. Now I know about the hypnotizing ability of Santana drummer Michael Shrieve, who performs the best drum solo I've ever heard during the band's performance of "Soul Sacrifice". Now I know about the counterbalance of Joan Baez, whose acapella performance of "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot" resonated across a sea of 400,000 people, and Janice Joplin, who appeared to come apart at the seams as she sang just over a year before her death. I've seen the size of Richie Havens' hands as he not so much played but attacked an acoustic guitar to open the show, and Jimi Hendrix's skillful forays into noise during his rendition of the Star-Spangled Banner to close it.

It reminded me of the festival shows I used to frequent a few years back, but Woodstock carried with it a far different feeling. What made the event so special was the nearly blind faith of the organizers that it would successfully capture and promote a sentiment that was purely of the time. I've always thought of the 60's as a time far removed from the world in which I grew up, but they were kids just like I was. Some of them looked just like typical kids of today.

I went back at looked at the revival of the shows in 1994 and 1999, the latter of which I remember a bit more vividly. Woodstock 1999 ended in violence and anger. The show featured loud, aggressive and testosterone-fueled acts that incited the crowd to riot. It was such an embarrassment.

It's been forty years since Woodstock and I can't imagine another event of that size taking place, especially with the labels in the shape they're in today. But eventually, slowly but surely, a new group of young people are going to want to say that enough is enough. Music will break free of commercialism and hundreds of thousands will flock to celebrate it again. It's an ideal that I'd like to see renew itself. All it will take is a positive use of the technology we have at our disposal and the right set of principles that no product or marketing plan can sell us. Music was an expression of our humanity not too long ago. It will feel that way again.

Some other notes that I've been meaning to write lately: I'd like to start updating a blog every day again, but one that takes a look at issues that are going on in the world. I've been blogging for about ten years now and I miss the communal feel of certain blogs I used to run. Nobody seems to write or comment any longer. I miss reading about what people had on their minds. A lot of people have become stagnant in expressing themselves through the blogging medium (myself included).

I'd like my next blog to be the first completely and totally open blog that I run. In the past, I've worried about posting material that some of the people I know might find objectionable, but I'm becoming less inclined to write updates that delve into the kind of controversy I used to envision. I've been thinking of extending it off of wireandlight.ca along with the film reviews I've been writing lately. Wire and Light can encompass a creative hub that meets the needs of my ever-changing artistic inclinations.

I've started working on a live show for Wire and Light. I need to write a set list down so that I can hone it.

I'll be in Europe in less than a month. I'll be back with more thoughts on that next time.

"His sudden death gives us all an opportunity to appreciate the enduring genius of his art but to realize that we have no musician that speaks to all of us... and that we haven’t for some time now."

- Stephen Thomas Erlewine, allmusic.com

I don't own any Michael Jackson albums and I never have. He was undeniably talented and the richer he became, the grander the terms in which he thought about his art became. If you were born in North America in the last 40 years, he was a part of your childhood. There's no getting around that. His face, songs and videos were everywhere.

My sister had a crush on him until she saw the Thriller video. It made her cry. My parents forbade us to watch the video for years, though I remember clearly seeing the discretionary warning that it didn't endorse a belief in the occult. It's the kind of thing you wouldn't see these days.

Michael had a love for the theatrical and the debuts of his videos on television were always an event. I remember tuning in to see the premieres of Bad, Black or White, Remember the Time and Scream on network television. They usually amounted to miniature films, each with its own complete vision.

"Dangerous" was the album I remember most. I heard it played in bedrooms and basements during the transition of my taste into rock music. The Weird Al parodies were huge, of course. I had a red leather jacket like the one from Thriller in the 4th grade and got made fun of for wearing it.

I wouldn't say that Jackson's music ever spoke to me personally, but it was impossible to not get chills over his grandiose presentation of a pop song. Nobody did it better. He was the total package of ability in voice, dance and passion. During the 90's, a societal shift in attitude away from the excess and pomp of the 80's didn't stop Michael from going to extreme lengths to promote himself, and while his ego went on trial around the same time he did, it was hard to not admire the guy.

People didn't want to believe that Michael had a sick side because of the way his music had made them feel. He was raised in the public spotlight from a young age and had everyone's attention. Nobody wanted to see such a creation turn into Frankenstein's monster. Michael's appearance was indicative of the insecurities of a person trying to remain high in the world's imagination. His skin disease was a nasty reminder of his humanity and he appeared to work against it rather than with it.

It's been nice to see people try to honour Michael as a brilliant artist instead of the freak that he seemed to become. A part of me was looking forward to his upcoming tour. It would have been one last shot for the master to go out on top - a final chance to change the world's minds and live up to old potentials, renew old victories and bring the people to dance again. It would have been nice for him.

One of the richest, most popular and most mysterious performers has passed on very suddenly. Time will tell how this will impact a variety of things - the media, music, the tabloids. It would be great to see changes made. As brilliant as he might have been, we don't need another Michael Jackson. No one deserves such a fate.

We all have our hang-ups. One of mine is insecurity, about a number of things. I remember being 20 and greatly concerned about the size of my ego, because I suddenly became aware of how much time I was spending feeling self-involved and introspective. Of course, ten years later I've come to realize that that's the way MOST people are. Most people are too worried about their own hang-ups to notice anyone else's.

One's own insecurity can result in a tendency to trash others to make themselves feel better. I've been guilty of it in the past, but I haven't spoken ill of anyone in a long time. It's a rotten byproduct of insecurity and I believe that one's actions and words go a long way in structuring their world. I loathe negativity and separate myself from it consciously. Sometimes it's felt like a technique of survival.

It's not very poetic for me to sit here and type about the moments during each day when I feel as though the world looks at me with disdain or contempt, but I feel as though I'm so rarely honest with myself in print these days. There's a quadrant in my brain that's obsessed with the idea that somewhere out there, people I have only a perfunctory relationship with think I'm worthless. That I shouldn't be taken seriously. That I'm an infantile person with insincere opinions, desires and goals. It burns away in that part of me and leaves a black spot.

I've always felt a need to make an impression on people. Sometimes I think that I should have gone into acting at a younger age, or thrown myself headlong into some sort of career as a performance artist. But I've never been able to match up the aesthetics of people who perform with my own tastes and perceptions. And maybe that's a GOOD thing, because it theoretically leaves me with an original take. But it also ostracizes me, on a certain level, and it makes me afraid to try.

I have, in the past, Googled the phrase "proving people wrong". That part of me that thinks that people view me with contempt also thinks that I have an uphill battle in actively changing their opinions. I try to reconcile that thought process with the tendency that everyone has to marry themselves to their opinions as they get older. When does proving people wrong stop becoming important? One of the greatest sources of elation in the world is finding out that the idea I had of someone in my head was completely false. When I find out that I was wrong, so wrong about somebody. That they're so much better than I was willing to give them credit for.

What do you do when no one thinks you can do something? Do you find new people who are willing to give you a shot? I think I suffer from the delusion that the world is much, much smaller than it actually is. I feel like I'm living in a bubble all the time and that one day it's finally going to pop and I'll wonder why it took so long. I'm afraid. I'm afraid to try certain things. Yet there is so much I want to try, and so much I'm trying to try. I'm doing the best I can with my time and money and drive.

I'm going to Europe in a month, for a couple of weeks or so. Maybe that will jostle my sense of geography a bit.