Ben Folds Five - "Army" from MySpace Front To Back (TQ’s plea)

One of the first bands I saw live, and thus fell in love with, is Ben Folds Five.
They've since broken up.
Ben Folds has gone on to a somewhat successful solo career.
Friends have asked why it's not the same for me.
I don't know why...
They've said, "Isn't it just like how "Sting" by himself is the same as "The Police?"
They have a point.
But I can't agree with that.
There was something there, that is no more.
Three men together creating a sound-
-an atmosphere.

And recently MySpace got them back together for a "one time" performance.
To play their last album "front to back."
It's now online for all to watch.

Here's one song, their single from that album...
Man, why can't that start a reunion tour?

Check out this video: Ben Folds Five - "Army" from MySpace Front To Back

TQ’s guide to "Mountie Rock"

So you want to get into Canadian Independent Rock Music?
A genre I lovingly call "Mountie Rock."
Allow me to make a few suggestions.
Follow the musical path I am about to lay out, if you so choose.

If you are a man, I suggest you start listening to this album first:
"You Forgot It In People" by Broken Social Scene"


If you are a lady, I suggest you start here instead:
"The Reminder" by Feist


After sampling these, ask yourself if you like the faster paced beats-
-or the slower paced grooves.

If you're a dude, and want to move stop here next:
"Folkloric Feel" by Apostle of Hustle


If you've got matching pairs of X chromosomes, and you don't stop 'til you get enough:
"Some Are Lakes" by Land of Talk


Now on the flip side, if you're a fella' and want to lay back with the brim o'your cap over your eyes:
"Population" by The Most Serene Republic


Similarly, if you are the fairer sex looking for introspection in music:
"In Our Bedroom After The War" by Stars


At this time let me disclose that I enjoy all above mentioned music.
By some accounts, there may not be much of a difference in the above voyages.
And, I surely did not come to all these acts in such a logical manner.
I may be depriving you of the fun of traversing the Northern Ally's landscape looking for cool note imports.

If you're still with me, and have enticed your Canadian appetite (not talking about venison here), it's time to take a seriously close look at Broken Social Scene.

Listen to the self-titled 2005 album by Broken Social Scene:


Feel free to play this performance in the background when I give a brief history of Broken Social Scene:

LoT+ BSS = Wow

I spent more than a half hour attempting to find an appropriate video to describe the Broken Social Scene concert I attended last Thursday.

Thanks to the blog "Pop Tarts Suck Toasted", I think I found it.

That's where I found the below clip from just over a month ago. It shows Broken Social Scene performing "Shoreline" (which is, if you subscribe to the "YouTube as your popularity indicator" theory, would be their number one song). Key to this video taken at a NYU concert is that it features Elizabeth Powell.

This is "Lizzy" Powell, the front person and main creative force behind Land of Talk:


Land of Talk was the opening act for Broken Social Scene. And in the true collaborate effort that BSS is, Lizzy stepped in happily for any song needing a female vocal. This, if you don't know, was the path first blazed in BSS folklore by Leslie Feist (You've probably heard of her).

Land of Talk, although they didn't play the song I heard on NPR's All Songs Considered, had a powerful set... considering...

Considering that whoever was in charge of the sound quality the night of Thursday October 9 at the Vic Theatre in Chicago was incompetent. Honestly, I've never heard such a mismangled sound at a professional concert. Maybe I should give those boys some slack, because mixing an 8-11 member band must present unique challenges.

Back to Land of Talk:
Lizzie was hot.
She was powerful.
I just bought her debut album off iTunes.
Add another name to my growing list of "Mountie Rock" acts I'm following.

But LoT wasn't alone on using the BSS bandwagon to gain the attention of yours truly.
I've heard a few songs before from Apostle of Hustle, which I liked.
Julian Brown, of AoH, was performing with BSS last Thursday.
Just one more example of the interconnected harmony of the Canadian Independent Rock Scene... Here's a picture of Mr. Brown:

I haven't bought any AoH music yet, but I'm sure I won't be able to make that statement much longer.

As for the actual main event: the set by Broken Social Scene...
In any other year that didn't include a free ticket to Radiohead, that concert would have been the musical highlight of the year - and in the running for moment of the decade.
They played the songs I wanted to hear, but I got to experience the joy of BSS. To see 8 to 11 Canadians playing multiple instruments and truly conveying at atmosphere of fun playing.

There was also a sentiment expressed by Kevin Drew (one of the two "founding" members of BSS) that was echoed two weeks earlier from fellow Mountie Rockers Stars. Drew mentioned that he understood that economic times are rough, and that he appreciates everybody spending their money to see them live (and to fund his life, to be lived the way he wants to live it).

The show ended at 10:30 pm, per the neighborhood's noise ordinance mandates. They didn't waste any time, cramming as much music as they could muster. In a move I've never seen before, but dreamed of seeing, a band played their "last" song - then continued right into their "encore." This band doesn't want to pull the charade of ending a set and walking off the stage, in a gratuitous ploy for more applause. They just kept on playing. Because that's what we all wanted, and I get the sense that's what they wanted too...

It's safe to say that I will be purchasing two tickets the day the next BSS show goes on sale - then spending whatever time window I have leading up to the concert to convince someone else that it's worth the voyage. (Special shout out to Jeff, who was the unsuspecting party that I dragged to this show - but I think he appreciated it almost as much as I... Even if my dance grooves were probably embarrassing)

And now, for your viewing pleasure - Here's Broken Social Scene featuring Lizzy Powell performing "Shoreline"

How I got Stood Up by 20 girls in one night

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:
The motto I try to live by is, "It's not whether you win or lose, it's if there's a story to tell."

With that in mind, I agreed to attend an event by an organization called "Date and Dash."

It was a Speed Dating event.
I signed up for a Speed Dating event.
Yes, an event in which you theoretically have over 20 first dates.
Each lasting 5 minutes.
You know, just enough time to get a great superficial opinion on a person.
Maybe that's too harsh.
Supposedly, it's just long enough to discover a first-impression spark.
But all that doesn't matter right now.
These people, from their site, don't matter right now:



Last night, Wednesday October 1, was the date my friends and I selected.
Selected after batting around this idea for close to ten months.
We finally did it, got all our ducks in a row, agreed on a date, and paid $35 each.

Coincidentally, October 1 was also the first day of the Major League Baseball playoffs.
Specifically, the first game of the Chicago Cubs post season.

I assume that Date and Dash selected a Wednesday Night in October thinking it would be a low key environment. Yes, it was in a bar - but who goes to bars in the middle of the week? Or, more importantly, what large group of people would cram into a Chicago Suburban Bar to the extent to overtake the entire venue?

The answer are these people:

So last night I rushed home from work.
Got into the shower.
Remarkably shaved without causing excessive facial bleeding (a rarity on nights when I try to make good first impressions to the opposite sex)
Spritzed on some cologne.
Put on my nice jeans, freshly polished black leather shoes and a button down that I know looks good because it was a bought as a gift from MySister...

All for naught.

For some fifteen minutes before my friend was about to drive up to my curb my phone rang.
I listened to the news that the crowd at the bar that came to watch the Cubs game was so large that there would be no space for the speed dating event.
The event was cancelled.

And I hung up the phone.
Officially all dressed up and no where to go.
This is what it must feel like to get stood up to the power of twenty.
It didn't feel good.
For months, the nervous energy had been pent up.
I was finally ready mentally, although maybe not emotionally, for what I expected to be an exhausting event with potentially large ramifications.

Everyone who I told before October 1 of this plan had to be let down as well.
People came up to me today, with small specs of hope in their eyes.
Many of these, had lost hope from watching the before mentioned baseball team get blown out.
Hoping to hear a comedic story from yours truly.
The next chapter in the Romantic Tragedy that is my life.
These friends of mine are the unknown solider casualties of this lost battle.
But they may not have died in vain.
Their hopes may be resurrected.
For I did pay my $35.
Money that will be credited towards another event on Date and Dash's schedule.

Stay tuned sports fans, stay tuned.

Concert Review, Concert Preview and the Interconnected Subtle Romance of the Live Music Scene

"...I am trying to say
What I want to say
Without having to say..."

Last night I was treated to watching another "indie" (if there's a better more accepted term, please tell me) band from Canada.
The first indie act I saw was Feist, and the next is coming up very soon (but more on that later).

Last night Stars performed at The Vic Theatre. This is Stars:






But I don't want to comment on the musical aspect of this show last night. Oddly, and at no fault of the band's excellent performance, the more interesting aspects of the night had little do do with the main set.

I know of Stars because a coworker thought I'd like them after I couldn't stop gushing over Broken Social Scene. Stars, like Broken Social Scene, is on the Arts & Crafts record label (the Belagio of Canada's "indie" rock scene). The two bands also have The Vic Theatre in common. Broken Social Scene is scheduled to play there Thursday October 9. Therefore, I was able to purchase tickets for BSS at the Vic box office and avoided any Ticketmaster "ass poundings" (as Mac may say).

This put me in a great mood walking into the venue, and I must admit it preoccupied most of my mind. Now that Radiohead is off my "Bands to see live before I die" list, BSS is only topped by Bjork.

The other note about last night I want to mention is the apparent surplus of attractive and (seemingly) single women who enjoy Stars. I saw pack after pack of three or four good-looking-girls with no apparent male significant other marking territory. I am well aware at the likely hood that these GLGs were significantly with each other. After all, we're talking about Canada's Independent Music Scene here Ladies, Gentleman, Lesbians and Gays. A keen taste in music is a great quality in a significant other, and sometimes tough to find in the GLG genre.

How is that ice supposed to be broken? One would think it would be easy. By mere mutual existence in that venue you have something important in common. If you are willing to spend money on a weeknight concert on a Canadian band that doesn't get radio play surely you would have more to talk about? Maybe you have to have even numbers. What I mean is: a sufficient supply of Wingmen that can give you equal numbers. If I would walk up by myself to that group of four girls last night, trying to talk to one of them, a plethora of bad events may transpire. Anything from abject ignore to hostile cockblockery. Not to mention the obvious time crunch. There's no talking during the set and after the show is a mad dash for the fresh air beyond the exit.

You've got to go in there with a plan.
Get a team together.
Quickly assess the situation
Advance on targets
Enjoy the show as a large group under the guise of a very cool group pre-date.

But people don't want to plan for some sort of massive ground attack of flirting and other romance related carnage. I won't find people to plunk down $25 to see a show with me with an indirect female-focused goal.

(That being said, me and two of my friends just spend $35 for something this upcoming Wednesday)

If I mentioned it before, it's definitely worth mentioning again:
NPR's All Songs Considered is immaculte
On a recent episode they played a song from Land of Talk
They're a band from Montreal.
Yeah, you can see where I'm going with this.
But what was great news to me is that they are the openers for Broken Social Scene!
That's going to be a wonderful night.

(And I didn't even get into the fact that the night immediately after the Broken Social Scene show I'll be seeing My Morning Jacket at the Chicago Theatre!)

September 22, 2005

If you have met me in the past three years,
or maybe reconnected with me in that time,
you may not know that I have a metal plate in my head.

For this night,
I am typing this on September 22,
is my three year anniversary.

The following story begins on the night of September 22, 2005.
In 2004 and 2005 I spent most of my Thursday nights playing basketball.
I was in a local park district league with some friends.
Our team name was "Loose Balls."

I usually played center.
Most often, I was the taller guys on the court.
Playing down by the basket didn't bother me.
Even though as a youth I loved playing around the arc.

I was accused of "flopping" too often.
That is, trying to draw charging fouls from the opposition.
When there wasn't much contact.
On this Thursday night in 2005,
There was too much contact.

Facts are still in question.
Exactly who hit who
What hit what
This is what we know.
A guy I was not guarding made a hard drive to the hoop.
I slid over to take a charge.
There was a collision involving the driver,
my teammate guarding him,
and me.
The whistle blew.

I did not get the charging call I was hoping for.
But that didn't matter to me at the time.
The collision was intense.
It knocked me straight to the floor.
I was unable to get up.
Instead, I said in an oddly calm voice, "Sub"
(calling for a substitution from the bench)
I pushed myself out of bounds across the baseline.
Literally sliding my ass across the court with my arms.
As if I was paddling a boat without oars.
There, on the baseline, back up against the gym wall, I stayed for a while.

I didn't know it then, but I suffered a concussion.
The gym wasn't exactly "spinning" in my mind.
But the feeling wasn't too far from that.
Finally, I got myself up and walked back to the bench.
I didn't go back into the game.
I drove home.
I went to sleep.
I woke up.

When I tried to brush my teeth
I realized something was wrong
Something seriously out of whack
I was unable to get my toothbrush to my back teeth.

That next day,
Friday morning,
I arrived to work on time.
With a dented face.

I was able to talk
although my teeth couldn't separate enough to slide in a toothpick.
I was in no pain.
Just a slight feeling of uncomfortable
Not unlike when you wear a button down shirt with the buttons one-off
The shirt is still wearable, just doesn't fit right on your body.
That was how my face felt.

People had a tough time looking at me that morning.
My right eye was also bloodshot.

You may be asking why I didn't go to an ER?
The answer is unique for our times.
I'm a member of an HMO.
I've had a lot of battles with HMOs over my short life.
Basically, unless I need someone to stop bleeding.
Like, from a GSW...
I'm going to my "Primary Care Physician" first.

After securing an early afternoon appointment
I told my boss that I was taking a half day
After seeing my Primary Care Physican.
I was sent off to the hospital for an X-Ray.
After my P.C.P. saw the X-Ray,
I spoke to him on the phone from the hospital's waiting room

He said, "Well, the X-Rays came back negative, but I saw your face... It's broken... I'm sending you to a specialist."

The doctor I met next, instantly recognized what happened to my face.
He was a surgeon, and informed me that I had an orbital bone fracture
(that's my eye socket)
and a zygomatic bone fracture (that's one of the bones that form my cheek)


He explained the surgery that I needed very clearly.
It was not needed to be repeated.

It would reqiure two incisions.
One under my right eyelid, to slide a titanium plate to reset my cheek bone.
The second cut would be on the inside of my cheek.

The second cut was because my zygomatic bone had slid down and was blocking my jaw muscle.
(This is why I was unable to open my mouth)
Which was great news to me, I was fearing a broken jaw bone, with a wired solution.
But this second cut was needed to allow the surgeons (plural) to insert the medical equivalent to a crowbar into my face...
To pry my bone back into place...
In order to have the titanium plate - oh and four titanium screws - set it back into it's original location.

And although I understood how it was going to be done, I still had a few questions.
Just before I was sent off to get a CAT SCAN, I had the following dialogue.
I remember it today, three years later, word for word.

TQ: Does this plate come out after the bone's healed?
Dr.: No.
TQ: (after a slight pause) Are you saying that I will literally have a metal plate in my head the rest of my life?
Dr. Yeah, but it's small.
TQ: (after a slightly longer pause) Will it set off metal detectors?
Dr.: (after a short pause) I don't know.

To hear this surgeon say, "I don't know" was gravely unsettling to yours truly.
---
Fast forward about ten days.
The morning of my operation.
I'm lying down.
Wearing a glorified tablecloth.
Already pierced with the IV needle into my left hand.
My Father next to me, acting stoic.

The surgeon enters the room.
This is the first time I've spoken to him since our last unsettling conversation.
He informs us that he has brought in his boss to help him with the procedure.
(That makes me feel more comfortable)
He then offers this gem of a comment.
Again, I remember it verbatim.
"I've seen the CATSCAN... And on a scale of one to ten, it's severe."

He walks away, and I couldn't help but laugh.
I ask my dad, "Does severe mean a ten? or an eleven?"
My dad also laughed, but it was a different sort of a laugh.
I was laughing more out of disgust.
My dad's laugh was more out of uncertainty - not wanting to respond with silence.

----
Obviously, I came out all right.
The doctors did excellent work.
Nobody can tell that I've had, what I call, major facial reconstructive surgery.
For a solid year after this, people would ask me what's new...
You know, not really wanting to know what was new...
But I would tell them, in a blank and matter-of-factly as possible...
"What's new? Probably the titanium plate in my head, what's new with you?"

Trophy Tease

Once I get the rest of the pictures, I'll explain how I WON this trophy.
One of the greatest nights of my summer.
Stay tuned to learn the story behind the prize.