Have You Ever Been To Sea, Davie?

“Have you done much sailing?” asked the agent, “because she’ll be a wee windy out there.”  I was in the process of booking a day long sailing trip from Airlie Beach to an uninhabited little island about 45 km offshore.  “The sailboat’s a bit small, but the skipper’s really good.”

Now, the extent of my sailing experience has been on small vessels in and around Vancouver, usually on days when there wasn’t enough wind to fly a kite, let alone sail a boat.  It was merely an excuse to knock back a few cold ones and putter about.  But sailing is what you do in Airlie Beach.  It’s the gateway to one of the most famous sailing destinations in the world, the Whitsundays.  I booked the trip.

The following morning I met our skipper and his boat.  Both had been around for a while.  Reg (the skipper) was 65, originally from Holland, and apparently got his initial sailing cred with the Ancient Mariners.  His pride and joy is the S. V. Domino, a 36 ft cruiser that he had purchased in Auckland many years prior.  Reg had sailed her across the notoriously dangerous Tasman Sea from NZ to Sydney harbour, so he assured us we would easily make the sail out to ominously named Black Island, even in rough seas.  Besides, he reminded us more than once, his excursions were now rated number two on Trip Advisor.  He wasn’t about to risk that.

The BOM (Australian Bureau of Meteorology) website had forecast windy conditions in the morning, calming off in the afternoon.  I’ve been using BOM since I arrived in Australia.  So far, the closest it had been to being correct was a day at the Australian Open when they predicted sunny and 30.  It turned out to be 19 and rained all day.  I was optimistically hopeful that BOM had it right this time, but wasn’t prepared bet on it.

Despite the assurances of both Reg and BOM, I couldn’t help humming the Gilligan’s Island theme to myself, over and over.

After a quick safety discussion, which basically amounted to instructions on how to not fall out of the boat, we were off.  Windy it was.  No sooner had we departed the protection of the harbour than the winds picked up to 20 knots, regularly gusting to over 30 (that’s ~55 km/hr to us landlubbers).  Despite being partially protected from open seas by the Whitsunday Islands, the water was very rough.  The wind was blowing against an unseasonably high tide, creating frighteningly large and uneven swells.  The two other passengers and I looked back and forth at each other trying to appear calm, which is difficult to do when you’re white knuckling the railings.

Regardless, Reg proved to be a very confident captain.  He skipped about the boat trimming sails and performing lots of other sailing-type tasks as if we were on land, all the while regaling us with stories from his life at sea.  We were pushing the Domino hard, he informed us, and he wouldn’t have taken us out if the winds were any stronger, but as long as we kept heading forward to the island we’d be fine.  That explains why when my brand new, ridiculously expensive, Australian Open hat blew off my head and into the water, it became a sacrifice to the sea gods.  There was no turning back.

The same could not be said for when the rope pulling the dinghy snapped.  A sailboat without a dinghy is like an airplane without landing gear, and our landing gear was disappearing out of sight behind us.  Reg swore and leaped into action.  We had to go back for it.  We “came about” (essentially meaning we turned around – I’m a sailing jargon expert after my one day at sea) in a less than elegant manner that threatened to toss at least one passenger overboard, and made off in the direction of the dinghy.  Reg chose to ignore my request to fetch my hat while we were at it, even after I threatened to leave nasty comments on Trip Advisor.

It was a remarkable display of skill, with Reg managing to steer, grab the raft, tie it up and turn us back around completely on his own.  In fact he had ordered us to “sit still and not touch anything”, which was probably to the benefit of everyone involved.

We eventually reached Black Island (the tourist books have started calling it Bali Hai Reef in an attempt to stop frightening travellers) in one piece.  We decided Black Island was quite appropriate, all things considered. 

Despite the BOM forecast, the wind continued to howl.  We had a short go at snorkeling, but couldn’t see much through the choppy murky water.  We had our “relaxing picnic lunch on the beach” huddled together in an attempt to block the wind, and still ate as much sand as anything else.  We abandoned our “leisurely 2 ½ hours to relax and explore” early and got back on the boat.

The sail back to Airlie Beach was more of the same, but with an exclamation point!  Storms had blown into the area, and our route was dotted with dark clouds and rain squalls.  When one particularly bad one hit, I thought we were done for.  Reg went silent and thrust his jaw into the wind and rain.  The others appeared to be praying.  I kept repeating “a three hour tour, a three hour tour…”

Shakily sipping beers with the other two passengers at the Marina Pub back in Airlie Beach later that afternoon, we were surprisingly non-challant. 

“Great day for sailing, wasn’t it?”

“Awesome time, eh?  Would do it again in a second!” 

And so on.  Still, I can guarantee you that not one of us was having those thoughts when the winds reached 40 knots in the driving rain during our return sail (thanks for the warning, BOM).  If not for the efforts of the fearless Reg, the Domino would surely have been lost. 

Thanks to Reg for an exciting day at sea.  The experience was certainly exhilarating but perhaps not quite as bad as I described, as you will undoubtedly see in the following video clip taken on Black Island.

Random notes from Australia…

Mullets – Mullets are everywhere. Guys wear them seriously, not for some Movember-like gag. It isn’t just back country hicks, either, but footballers and surfers. I’d do a photo essay, but fear for my life of ever being caught.


El Caminos – Remember the old half car/half truck called the El Camino? Ever wonder where they all went? Here.


Heels – As in the ones on women’s shoes. Impossibly high ones. It’s a phenom I’ve only observed in Sydney (save for a couple of Vietnamese hookers in Melbourne) and is often accompanied by an impossibly short skirt. All the girls are wearing them, for work and leisure. Note to self: there will be extremely high demand for podiatrists in Sydney in about 10 years time.


Classic Rock – At present I’m in a hip little café on the strip in Airlie Beach, surrounded by young backpackers, listening to “Sweet Home Alabama”. This, unfortunately, is not a rare occurrence in Australia. It’s the norm. WTF?


Inane Chatter – Not something restricted to Australia, but prevalent amongst twenty something backpackers from all over the world. Like, I’m not, like, totally against the word “like”, but when it’s used repeatedly while discussing whether or not Kanye West is an asshole even though his music is soooo good, I just have to get up and leave the room (which can be hard if you’re, like, on a 3 day sailing trip). And when did guys start like-ing more than girls? I’m beginning to understand how people like me become old curmudgeons.


$13 pints – Really? $13? For a beer? And you say that with a straight face? (Also applies to $6 small lattes.) Sydney is indeed expensive.


Spiders – Yowza! I knew Oz was famous for the buggers, but you gotta see ‘em in real life to appreciate just how big they are.

2010 - The Year in Music

My past year in music was all about live shows.  Three festivals and a slew of gigs led to a very memorable 2010.  As a result, what follows is a bit of a departure from my usual format for the annual year in music review.  Instead of a top ten list counting down my favourite albums or singles, this is a brief run-through of my hi-lights from a very busy year in concert going.  Along the way I’ll mention some of my favourite releases from the past year. 

2010 started “down under”, as in January my buddy Gary and I headed to Melbourne for some Australian Open Tennis, some sunshine, and the odd beer.  An extra bonus turned out to be the 5^th annual Laneway Festival.  What had started as a few bands playing in the alleyways of Melbourne’s CBD (central business district) has now become a full fledged festival playing all the major cities in Australia. 

I was disappointed to learn that 2010’s headliners Echo and the Bunnymen had cancelled due to “sudden illness” (c’mon Ian, you drink a bunch of booze and you get a splitting headache – you should know that by now), but the rest of the line-up was still strong. 

It was my first chance to see The XX (whose single “Crystallized” made my list last year), and despite a pronounced lack of stage presence they played an enjoyable set. 

I had also been looking forward to seeing buzz band Mumford and Sons, but apparently so had everyone else.  The festival grounds were arranged so that each stage had a relatively small viewing area, so it wasn’t set up for every last person in attendance to try and jam into the band’s set.  I got close enough to see what I thought might have been the actual stage and heard some muffled Mumford coming through the crowd noise before I gave up and headed elsewhere.  Not to worry though, I’d see them later in the year.

It seemed that the Laneway Festival was not prepared for such a large crowd period.  They ran out of food by mid day, and with “no ins our outs” we left early.  We still managed to see some good performances by Frightened Rabbit, Hockey and Dappled Cities, but missed The Dirty Three and Daniel Johnson.

Back in Vancouver, the concert season got going in earnest when Black Rebel Motorcycle Club hit the Commodore in March.  These guys are often dismissed as nothing but Jesus and Mary Chain clones, but I love that band and they hung ‘em up long ago so if someone else is going to step in and carry the torch, more power to them!  Their 2010 release “Beat The Devil’s Tattoo” was on heavy rotation in my various music players all year long.  A very strong release and an equally satisfying show.  I even gave myself a bit of whiplash with all the head thrashing.

The May long weekend has been home to the Sasquatch Festival for a decade now, and 2010’s line-up wasn’t only the best in the festival’s history, it was one of the better line-ups I have ever seen anywhere!  I won’t bother listing the bands, but suffice to say I wanted to see almost every one, which led to many scheduling conflicts.  If you’re interested, below is a poster from the festival listing all of the acts.  Click on it to enlarge and start cursing that you weren’t there.

Sasquatch is held at The Gorge, a natural amphitheatre in a stunning setting along the Columbia River in Washington State.  There’s a main stage, two smaller side stages and a DJ tent.  This year’s headliners were My Morning Jacket, Massive Attack and Ween.  You couldn’t find three more dissimilar bands, yet all put on great shows that kept capacity crowds entertained right to the finish of each night.  My Morning Jacket played an extended set of their energy filled anthems, while Massive Attack offered precision renderings of old and new material.  (Their new album Heligoland was one of my favourite releases of 2010.)  And Ween?  Ween was just Ween.  Sloppy.  Stoned.  Awesome!

There were too many great performances to mention, including sets from Laura Marling, Mumford and Sons, New Pornographers, The Hold Steady, Band of Horses and on and on.  Two of the crowd favorites from a “get yer dance on” standpoint were Miike Snow and Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes.  The bands are a contrast in styles, with Miike Snow leaning towards pop-synth while Edward Sharpe belts out hippie tinged rock, but both had massive crowds bopping from start to finish.

Many people’s choice for best performance (including mine) came from LCD Soundsystem.  Their latest release This Is Happening is undoubtedly one of my favourites from 2010.  Their live shows have become legendary, combining James Murphy’s personality and sharp lyrics with unparalleled beats.  They had the entire amphitheatre at Sasquatch dancing and screaming along as the sun set behind the stage.  Utterly brilliant.

And a shout out to Deadmou5.  I’m not an electronica dance guy (hell, I don’t even know what the current terms are for categorizing dance music), but his midnight show was a visual extravaganza.  I planned to watch for a song or two, but stayed for the whole set, mesmerized by the visuals and light show while the young kids danced their faces off.

One considerable drawback to the Sasquatch Festival is the accommodations.  Your choices are camping, camping or camping.  Even though we were in the “VIP” area, it was still over crowded, with line-ups for showers starting at 5 AM and the inevitable disgusting toilets.  I’m not sure I’d do it again without a luxury motor home.  Still, many thanks to Shannon for bringing along all of the camping gear.  Without her I may not have survived!

A striking juxtaposition to Sasquatch is the Austin City Limits festival, held annually in September in Zilker Park, Austin, Texas.  Whereas prospects for food and comfort are abysmal when the music ends at Sasquatch, ACL is in the heart of one of the great towns in the US, so the end of a day at the festival is only the beginning. 

The 2010 ACL headliners were anything but inspiring.  I suppose Muse is bearable, but the jam-band guitar wank of Phish is anything but.  And The Eagles?  Are they still alive?  Those bands couldn’t get me out of bed, let alone thousands of miles away to a festival.  Yet that’s the beauty of ACL.  The festival is full of other interesting bands to keep you occupied during the day, and when you leave the park, the city of Austin awaits with its great restaurants and bars.  Even better, many of the bands do aftershows, providing the opportunity to see them doing a longer set in a small club.

A couple of standouts from this year were Beach House and Broken Bells. I mention Beach House primarily on the strength of their 2010 release Teen Dream, a beautiful collection of atmospheric, dreamy pop.  It may very well have been my most listened to release this year.  (Either it or the new BRMC – toss up.)  Unfortunately, their live performance didn’t quite live up to the album, but hey, the lead singer is a stunning French woman, so how bad can it be?  Broken Bells, on the other hand, played a set that was at least as interesting as their strong self titled 2010 release.  The album is by the Shins' James Mercer with producer and Gnarls Barkley member Danger Mouse, and it’s a fun if not slightly melancholy pop record.  They perform live as a full band, providing for lots of opportunities to stray from the album and mix it up, which they did wonderfully at ACL.

There were a number of repeats from the Sasquatch festival at ACL, plus many other good performances from the likes of The Flaming Lips, The Soft Pack, The Black Keys, Nortec Collective, Richard Thompson, Spoon and many more.  Sonic Youth played a loud late night set at a small club, just to round out the weekend with a bold exclamation point.

The fall concert line-up in Vancouver was truly great (including a Black Angels/Black Mountain double bill), but the two shows I’ll finish with happened south of the border in Seattle.  The first was Gary Numan (yes, THAT Gary Numan) playing the entire Pleasure Principle at a small club called Neumo’s.  Now, most people only associate Gary Numan with “Cars” his electronic hit from 1980, but seeing him live shows that many of today’s artists, from Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson to Moby, owe a lot to Mr. Numan.  The man has been prolific over his 30 year career, and many artists claim to have been influenced by his heavy, synth driven style.

His Seattle show was rather appropriately on Halloween night, so an audience that would have already been a bit freaky was downright out there.  The concert was full of energy, extremely loud, and had probably the brightest light show I’ve ever seen in a club.  And because of that, I must give full kudos to Renee, who only four days earlier had undergone major invasive eye surgery, yet made the trip to see Gary all the same.  She is a huge fan and knew this was an opportunity not to be missed.  Her Halloween costume was perfect.  She dressed as a patient who had recently undergone major invasive eye surgery, complete with hospital blues and eye patch.  Probably not the most appropriate interpretation of medically ordered convalescence, but well worth it!  Right Renee?

And lastly, a New Years Eve show to remember – X at The Moore Theatre.  I am normally Scrooge on NYE, preferring the comfort of an intimate dinner party over drinking bad champagne with hordes of people who otherwise never go out.  But it took the coaxing of my buddy Dave to remind me that this was in fact X, with the original line-up, doing their 1980 album “Los Angeles” from start to finish.  So, despite the fact that I was leaving the country for six months in 4 days and hadn’t packed or cleaned, and was hosting a party in 2 days, I did what any sane person in my position would do; I hopped in Dave’s car and went to Seattle.

And so the year ended, with me in bliss singing along with John Doe and Exene Cervenka to every word of each song they played.  They may be getting older, but those guys will rock into their hundreds.  (Mind you, Exene was diagnosed this year with MS, so the days of X shows may be numbered.)  They played as hard and fast as they ever have, blistering through “Los Angeles” in about a half hour, followed by an extended set of their greatest hits.  A suitable end to an amazing year of live music…

For true X fans only, attached are two videos I took at the show.  Apologies for the poor sound and video quality, but you get a sense of just how stoked the crowd was, as was the band for that matter.  And if you listen carefully, you just may hear yours truly, as well, in utter ecstasy.

Modern Gadgetry

Traveling sure has changed since the last time I hit the road for an extended period.  Mind you, back then I was a horny teenager jumping from youth hostel to pub across Europe in search of, well, let’s just say Cathedrals weren’t at the top of my list.  Today, I’d prefer to experience a better rounded sort of trip, and take the time to remember more of what I see and do along the way.  I also want to share my travels with friends and family, so modern travel gadgets for communication are a must.

Still, my selection of travel gadgets as I hitch hiked around back in 1983 was pretty cutting edge.  I had a cassette tape Walkman with 5 tapes to choose from (and I can assure you I will never listen to any of those albums ever again), a Canon Sureshot automatic camera with 25 (that’s right, 25!) rolls of slide film, and a six month supply of AA batteries.  I was as connected as it gets, which wasn’t much at all, really.

For an example of just how rudimentary communications were back in those “dark ages”, consider what it took for a traveller to call home from Europe.  It would start with a trip to the central post office, where the only international phones outside of the major hotels could be found.  (You had better have been in a larger center as many of the small towns only provided public access to local phones.)  Once inside, the would-be caller was undoubtedly confronted by a long, painfully slow moving line.  Getting to the front wasn’t guaranteed, but it also wasn’t the end of the ordeal.  The receptionist had to take down the number and transfer it to an operator who would place the call, but only when one of a limited number of phone booths came available.  It was often an all day affair!

In my case, being connected when I called home didn’t necessarily assure that I would have the opportunity to speak to my parents.  I always called collect, and apparently calls were expensive.

How the world of communications has transformed!  I don’t consider myself an overly tech savvy individual, but check out the list of gadgets accompanying me on the 2011 version of Dave’s adventures (along with why I need each item):

·         SLR digital camera with 32 GB memory card

o       because I can’t carry 5,000 rolls of film and “point and shoot” cameras are for amateurs)

·         “point and shoot” camera

o       because I’m an amateur

·         Flip HD video camera

o       because standard video doesn’t cut it any more

·         16 GB iPod Nano

o       because I need 7000 songs to choose from

·         capsule loudspeaker

o       because the people in the next room need to hear “good” music

·         quad band Blackberry mobile phone

o       because I haven’t been to Thailand yet to buy an iPhone

·         500 GB portable hard drive

o       because I need the capacity to store an additional 50,000 songs, 2000 movies, and 100,000 photos

·         Netbook computer

o       to pull it all together and take up all of my time

For a more detailed description check out this video (shot in HD, or course):

Remarkably, all that gear takes up less space than my humble load of gadgets from back in 1983.  However, I’ve noticed it does weigh a tad more.  Or is it perhaps that I’m a tad older?

On Buying a Netbook

Rare are the events in life that change everything.

That's a good thing, too, because such radical change can be a pretty traumatic experience. Trust me. I know.

These are the life experiences that result in major upheaval in people's lives; large scale epiphanies that lead individuals to rethink fundamental life choices.
I have recently had just such an experience. My life will never be the same. I bought a Netbook, and everything has indeed changed.

For those of you not in the know (like me until about a week ago), a Netbook is a mini laptop computer. It has all the basic functionality of a standard computer but in a much more convenient size. Some computer weenies turn up their noses at Netbooks claiming that they are insufficient for certain activities like online gaming. However, since I'm not a 15 year old Asian male I suspect I'll be just fine with a Netbook.

After all, my Netbook has a reasonably fast processor, a large hard drive and a bunch of accessories like a web cam so it's perfect for important things like blogging, Facebook, emailing, Skype, managing photos, etc. It has also been "ruggedized", which is supposed to mean that it can withstand a little more rough-housing than your average electronic gizmo. It's a perfect travel companion.

As a result, I am well prepared to turn my back on over 20 years of a professional career and hit the road. I've had a job my entire adult life, but now I've chosen a different direction. Ah the freedom! No more "bored" meetings. No more last minute panic sessions trying to realize additional revenue before month end. No more regular paycheck. (Hmmm. Perhaps I should have thought that one out a little better...)

Regardless, starting this January me and my Netbook are going travelling. We'll be on the road for over six months - seeing old friends, making new ones and visiting an incredible variety of destinations. It'll all be happening here at Dave's Digglings, too. So please feel free to follow along, or better yet, participate! After all, these sorts of events don't come 'round very often.


(OK, truth be known, certain other events have occurred in my life that may have also had some more than minor influence on this new direction. Like, for example, immediate termination of employment from a large multi-national corporation. But hey, it's my blog, and if i say it's all about buying a Netbook, then it's all about buying a Netbook!)

Disposable Music: Dave's Top Ten Tunes for 2009

Is it just me, or is production a thing of the past? Now, I’m not suggesting that we return to the self indulgent over-produced world of Alan Parsons or anything like that. Good God no! But, did you happen to listen to the 2009 release “Horehound” by Jack White’s latest project The Dead Weather? The sound is appalling! I realize Jack is a fan of sparse production, but the cymbals sound like someone hitting rice paper with a spoon and the recording levels are pushed so high that what should be an ear splitting wall of aural pleasure ends up sounding like the shitty speakers in your Dad’s old K-car. And Jack’s not alone. Bad production seems to be the trend in popular music. What gives?

Well, I have a theory, and it goes something like this: you get what you pay for. Those “masterpieces” from the 70’s cost millions of dollars to produce. Even with today’s advanced recording techniques, some basic sound engineering goes a long way to producing a good finished product. Yet it all costs money, and in today’s digital world music is basically free. Anyone with a kindergarten level understanding of economics knows that you can’t earn a living by investing lots of money in something that you give away. The music industry is no exception.

So I think Jack has it right - throw an album together as fast as you can, screw the production and tour like hell. At least people still pay to see bands play live. And with that, here in no particular order are my top ten tunes for 2009:
(Sorry Jack, I just couldn't bring myself to include The Dead Weather. Great live show, though!)

British Port Authority – He's Frank
How is this not the single of the year? Combine Fatboy Slim’s beats and sense of humor with vocals by Iggy Pop and you’ve got an instant summertime pop classic. Roll down the windows and let the sun shine in!

The XX – Crystalised
The first single from this London quartet (now a three piece) is a perfect example of their dual vocals and indie pop style. Worth the hype.

Atlas Sound – Quick Canal
When I first heard Quick Canal I had no idea Atlas Sound was the solo project of Deerhunter’s (whose Microcastle was on my 2008 Top Album list) lead singer Bradford Cox. Doesn’t matter. Quick Canal is a succulent stunner, with just enough background noise to keep me interested.

Spoon – Got Nuffin
Another great track from Austin’s veteran hipsters.

Modest Mouse – Satellite Skin
Ok, gotta admit, I’ve got a soft spot for these guys. Still, No One’s First… is an EP with as much variety as any of their albums. It’s like they didn’t feel the pressure to create a cohesive album, so just compiled some tracks on a long EP. Works for me.

Animal Collective – Summertime Clothes
Man these guys are weird! Ain’t it great?

School of 7 Bells – Wired For Light
Twins! What more can I say?

Fever Ray – When I Grow Up
Has anyone ever heard of a Swedish band called “The Knife”? Me neither, but all you ever hear about Fever Ray is that it’s a side project of The Knife’s lead singer. Regardless, after listening to the album Fever Ray, I’m afraid for her two children. Very afraid. This is dark stuff.

Cymbals Eat Guitars – And The Hazy Sea
They do a pretty good job of filling a very large hole that was created when Pavement ceased to exist. “And The Hazy Sea” opens their debut as well as Stephen Malkmus could have ever hoped.

Kasabian – Underdog
Got their groove back on this one, sorta. Sounds like the boys are still popping pills, which is a good thing for us.

A Place To Bury Strangers - Lost Feeling
Nothing new here, but thank god someone out there still makes music with loud fuzzy guitars and distorted vocals. The Jesus and Mary Chain would be proud.

Obits – Milk Cow Blues
Nothing new here either, but thank god someone out there still likes to rock. April Wine would be proud.

Now, for those of you who were counting, that is actually twelve tunes, not ten. Let's call it "Dave's Top Ten Tunes Plus Two for 2009". And, as a reward for those of you who have been patient enough to read all the way to the bottom, here's a link to where you can download each of these fine tracks for your listening pleasure: http://www3.telus.net/public/diggling/ . (Download the zip file DigglingMash2009, unzip, and enjoy!)

Singles Going Steady

Hey Everybody,
Interested in hearing some of the best songs from 2008? Well, download the following file and treat yourself to 18 of the finest tracks from the past year:
http://www3.telus.net/Digglings/DigglingMash2008.zip

editor's note: I had written a clever introduction for this post which included a list of the tracks, but in my rush to bring it to you, I managed to lose it in cyberspace. So instead, it's short and sweet for today's post. Enjoy!

A Year of Great Songs: Dave’s “not-exactly” Top Ten List for 2008

The past year in music saw releases from a wide variety of artists in all genres. From newcomers like MGMT and Vampire Weekend to veterans such as Alejandro Escovedo and Beck, there were plenty of new songs bouncing about between my ears. 2008 was indeed a year of great songs.
However, 2008 presents me with one slight problem. My annual Top Ten list is for albums, not just songs. I like to recognize artists for compiling an entire record (is that word still relevant?) of songs that works as a whole from start to finish. Listening to an album is all about appreciating the artistry of a musician or group of musicians, experiencing the ebb and flow of emotions that they have captured for your senses and enjoyment. Repeated listens become like a visit with an old friend.
For me, this was a rare occurrence in 2008. I found myself all too regularly hitting the “skip” button to avoid certain songs, or even more commonly I’d listen to my favorite two or three tracks and skip the rest of the album. Great songs, but a great album? Not so much…
This year’s list has been adjusted accordingly. I’ve divided it between “great albums” and albums with “great songs”. And as if that wasn’t enough, I’ve thrown in an extra category “just because”. Enjoy!

Great Albums – the Top 2:

The Seldom Seen Kid by Elbow
The boys from Manchester have most certainly hit their stride. Guy Garvey’s smoky vocals are once again at the forefront of the band’s self described “prog without the solos” style. Hands down my album of the year. The critics apparently agree as The Seldom Seen Kid is this year’s recipient of the Mercury Prize – the annual award for the best in British music.

The Golden Hour by Firewater
Returning from an extended trek through Thailand, India, Pakistan, Turkey and Indonesia (which he chronicled on his blog Postcards from the Other Side of the World), lead singer and mastermind behind Firewater Tod A has used recorded music from his travels as the backbone of the very world wary “Golden Hour”. The combination of a Joe Strummer-like lyrical style with such influences as Klezmer and Indian wedding music results in perhaps the most satisfying “socially conscious” record since the early Clash.

Great Albums – the rest:

Microcastle by Deerhunter
Deerhunter have abandoned their uneven experimental noise from the early 2000’s for a fuller, more accessible sound on Microcastle. The release has been criticized by their hardcore fans for being too pop oriented. I say lighten up hipster snobs and enjoy this blissfully melodic breakout release!

Jean Lee & the Yellow Dog by Ed Kuepper & the Kowalski Collective
The grandfather of Australian rock has been silent for a few years. But finally, there's this ambitious loose concept album, based on the only hanging of a woman in Australian history, in 1951 of prostitute/alleged murdered Jean Lee. Long, varied, constantly and effectively surprising and involving, it's just plain fabulous.

Rook by Shearwater
Wow! How much emotionally charged songwriting can you fit into a 38 minute record? The answer lies in Shearwater’s expansive “Rook”.

Real Animal by Alejandro Escovedo
Ok, perhaps not a perfect album, but Real Animal stands as testament to one of music’s most underrated performers. From his early days with punk pioneers Rank and File (when he lived alongside Sid and Nancy in NYC) through to a recent battle with Hep-C, Alejandro has written an extensive catalogue of music straddling a wide variety of genres. This album pays homage to his past, and looks forward to a brighter future as the world seems to have finally caught on.

Great Albums – honorable mentions:

Mission Control by The Whigs
Guitar based indie-rock, for those who like it served straight up.

Attack and Release by The Black Keys
Nothing new here from the Keys, just another satisfying blues romp. What’s wrong with that?

Albums with Great Songs:

Consolers of the Lonely by The Raconteurs
To be honest, this should be in the great album category because it really is pretty strong throughout. Jack White has taken over the band, and Consolers is full of his characteristic riffs and screeches. It also casts a nod to some of Jack’s influences (most notably Led Zep) and boasts some musical diversions not seen on the band’s first effort. However, there are a couple of songs that I can only describe as absolute stinkers, and am never able to get through. Thus, the skip button comes into play every time. Sorry Jack.

The Very Sexuals
Delicious Bowie-like harmonies abound on this rookie release from Holland’s Very Sexuals. It’s too bad they only keep it up for the first three songs. Still, the album can be downloaded for free from their MySpace page, and for those three songs it’s well worth the effort.

Oracular Spectacular by MGMT
In 2008 these new darlings of the indie circuit have gone from playing half empty bars to sold-out arenas, all on the strength of Oracular Spectacular. It’s well worth the hype, containing perhaps the single of the year (a toss-up between “Time To Pretend” and “Kids” – you decide which is better).

Vampire Weekend
They’ve spent the year battling it out with MGMT for the most hyped band of 2008. I still love “(Who Gives a Fuck About an) Oxford Comma” (how brilliant is that?), but found the rest of the album lost my interest after only a couple of listens.

Feel Good Ghosts by Cloud Cult
In a year without a release from the Flaming Lips, at least we have Cut Copy. (What’s that? There was a Flaming Lips release? Who knew?) Like The Lips, Cut Copy is all over the map, with sometimes theatrical extravaganzas, other times simple ditties. Hear both on “When Water Comes to Life” from Feel Good Ghosts. I’m listening to it now, and have stopped typing so I can lead the orchestra.

Exotic Creatures of the Deep by Sparks
Included here solely on account of the Queen-like harmonies and laugh-out-loud funny lyrics of “Lighten up Morrisey” and “Photoshop (Me Out of Your Life)”.

Modern Guilt by Beck
Not up to his usual standards, yet Modern Guilt still produced two of the best songs from 2008 – “Gamma Ray” and “Profanity Prayers”.

Album Title of the Year:
When Life Gives You Lemons You Paint That Shit Gold by Atmosphere

Civilized Wilderness – Sea Kayaking in Sechelt Inlet

To some, embarking on a three day kayak trip into unpopulated areas of British Columbia’s west coast would be considered a rugged backcountry experience. To others, it’s simply another excuse to eat and drink exorbitantly, while providing just enough physical exertion to be categorized as an outdoor activity. I’m most certainly in the second group, as demonstrated by our kayak excursion this past weekend.

Now don’t get me wrong, the BC coastline is home to many wild animals and the chances of encountering a bear are pretty good. The closest shower and electrical outlet are many miles away, and (thankfully) there is no mobile phone coverage. You don’t have to go far to be pretty remote.

However, traveling by kayak provides one distinct advantage over more traditional back country options such as hiking, and that advantage is storage. So, despite the remoteness and somewhat rudimentary means of getting there, the kayaker can bring along a reasonable array of creature comforts. For me, those comforts revolve around food.

Before you write me off as a complete sloth or nut bar, tell me how this sounds? After a day of paddling in clear water surrounded by mountains and forests, you return to camp for a cocktail and appetizer. Then, as the sun sets you recline against a log on the beach and enjoy a glass of wine while brilliant colors dance across the sky. As darkness approaches, it’s time to light a fire and prepare a gourmet feast. You eventually retire to your tent with a belly full of fine wine, and slip into a deep sleep to the soothing sound of waves lapping against the shore.

Not so crazy after all, huh? I call it “Civilized Wilderness”, and even though I’m bound to hear loud protests from the extreme sports crowd, I’m convinced there is no better way to experience nature.

On our weekend we paddled with dolphins, saw countless jellyfish and multi-colored starfish, and stared in awe at some stunning scenery. We also swam in the surprisingly warm ocean at a number of uninhabited beaches. Meanwhile, we enjoyed cool late afternoon Gin and Tonics, lightly seared sushi grade ahi tuna, melt in your mouth tenderloin, a variety of spicy Indian curries, assorted grilled vegetables and even brownies with steamed milk and Bailey’s Irish Cream. Not to be overlooked were beautiful bottles of wine to accompany every course.

Good friends, great food and stunning scenery! Indeed, what more could one want?

Iqaluit Bound: A Photographic Venture Into Canada's Arctic

The bumper sticker said it all. I certainly wasn't in painfully PC Vancouver anymore. I had embarked on a journey into a world so different from my own it's hard to believe it's still in the same country. Mind you, this is Canada after all, and you can travel a long, long way without crossing an international border. It took me longer to fly to Iqaluit way up in Canada's northeast than it would have taken for me to fly to Bali. That's far.

What follows are a few snapshots from my trip accompanied by some impressions from this ice-covered wonderland.

The first thing that hits you as you step off the airplane is the cold. My flight was greeted by temperatures dipping below -20 Celsius, and winds gusting over 50 km/hr. The conditions were such that the plane was forced to stop on the tarmac about a two minute walk from the terminal. Seasoned northern travellers are prepared for such occurrences by keeping their winter clothes on board as carry-on. I walked to the terminal in my light sweater and t-shirt, shivering and cursing the entire way. By the time I got inside, my right eye had frozen completely shut. My guess is that the locals were mocking me by loudly discussing how wonderful it was that spring had finally arrived. I kept my mouth shut and attempted to defrost my face.

The sun does shine in the Arctic (quite often, in fact), and when it does the stark beauty of the place is stunning. Shown here is Iqaluit from the neighbouring village of Apex, looking across Frobisher Bay. Mind you, without the clouds the temperature drops. It was -34 one deceptively sunny morning.

The ocean freezes in the northern winters, and the combination of tides and wind results in an incredible mish-mash of broken ice, with striking, twisted shards forming beautiful modern sculptures.

Nature isn't the only artist in the north. The Inuit people are famous for fine soapstone sculptures. This carving of a traditional hunter was perched atop a traditional weaved basket, and fetched a whopping $3,000 at an auction I attended.

Other indigenous art includes fashion, utilizing local furs such as seal, caribou and polar bear. These would probably not be practical in rainy Vancouver, as persons wearing such fashion would immediately be shot by someone who lives between Commercial and Victoria Drives.

Still, Lord knows how I love to shop, so I picked up two of these outfits...

The north also presents some startling contrasts, and with that some difficult social issues. On the left is the first Hudson's Bay trading post in the region, established on Frobisher Bay in 1620. It's quite remarkable that western explorers came to these harsh environs that long ago. But what's even more awe inspiring is that the Inuit people had called this rather uninhabitable land home for many previous generations.

The resulting meeting of cultures has not been a smooth one. Today, Iqaluit is the land of snowmobile cadavers, like the one shown on the right. The town boasts two snowmobile dealerships, and no snowmobile service centers. The locals have no need to service them. The government buys the Inuit new ones every two years so the machines are basically driven until they stop, then abandoned.

Amazing what a government will do to try and make up for the sins of the past.

And so Iqaluit evokes a wide variety of emotions along with its barren landscape and occasional discarded tire...


...or boat left to the mercy of the ice.

The conditions are pretty harsh for any living creature, including the dogs and crows...



...although I certainly wouldn't want to be a local polar bear!

Even so, there's still time to play some outdoor recreational sports, like hockey and basketball.

Where does it all lead? Hopefully not here!

Hell Hath No Fury Like a Kopite Scorned

Sports fans are an unruly lot. Poke your head into a sports bar during pretty well any sporting event and you’re likely to witness all sorts of rowdy behavior. From yelling at the plethora of TV screens and constant “high fiving” (a predominantly North American trait), to swilling and spilling beer, the sports bar crowd is a unique, primarily male microcosm of our society. And, it is just such a mob that I found myself firmly planted amongst for hockey viewing yesterday evening.

It all started harmlessly enough. A couple of buddies and I met up after work at a downtown Vancouver sports bar to down a few pints and take in a Vancouver Canucks telecast. There were several hockey games on the various screens, and plenty of people on hand to cheer on all the different teams. In typical Canadian fashion, there was some polite competitive jawing going on between fans sporting an assortment of jerseys, but it was all in good fun.

However, as the evening progressed I couldn’t help but notice an increasing number of another sort of jersey. Unlike the pullover style hockey sweater, these jerseys had collars, and all of them were red. That’s when it dawned on me: red means The Reds, as in the Liverpool Football Club. It’s mid-February, and the second round of the UEFA Champions League is just getting underway. The bar was most certainly filling up for an international football match, which on a world scale far outweighs the significance of a hockey game.

Still, I was puzzled because the matches are played at night in Europe, which means the live broadcast in Vancouver should be at mid day. One member of our table turned out to be a fellow from Liverpool (I suppose I should have known by his flipped-up collar and, well, accent…), and he explained that he had been in the same bar earlier that day to watch Liverpool take on arch rival AC Milan. He was now back in the bar to watch the rebroadcast of the same game. He also pointed out a few “blokes” who had watched it with him, but had remained in the bar since that time. They also planned to watch it all over again, provided that they could keep their heads up off the bar. Such is the dedication of the average football fan.

As such, football fans, especially the English, are a whole breed apart from hockey fans. You’ve probably heard the term “English football hooligan”. It is more or less interchangeable with the term “English football fan”, and refers to an unbridled passion for a specific club (and the English national team) as well as a general state of drunken disorderliness. English fans are notorious for violence at matches both home and abroad, and as a result have actually been barred en masse from attending World Cup games involving their beloved English squad. Liverpool fans, who refer to themselves as “Kopites”, are some of the least reputable, as displayed in the 1985 European Cup final against Juventus F.C. where they essentially killed 39 Italian supporters.

Which brings me back to the sports bar last night, and the growing presence of red clad Kopites. Our pal from Liverpool felt quite at home, especially since he already had 5 pints or so under his belt and posses the prerequisite accent. Meanwhile, my buddy Gary and I were starting to feel strangely outnumbered by Liverpool football “fans” in our hometown establishment. So when we looked up from yet another deep hockey oriented discussion to see our pal chatting with a rather large, crooked nosed skinhead in a red jersey, we wanted to do our best to fit in. Since he was sitting right next to the guy, Gary put on his best face, stuck out his hand for a shake and exclaimed “Hey buddy, nice win today!”

Just like that, our lives were in grave danger. Well, not necessarily mine, but most certainly Gary’s. I had some lesser sort of guilt by association, but Gary had committed a mortal sin.

Almost immediately, this massive Kopite dropped Gary’s hand and slowly backed away. His face grew redder and the veins in his skull began pulsating to the extent that I was sure they would soon explode. He glared unflinchingly at Gary as his mouth began to froth a little around the corners.

“Why you f*ckin’…!” he began before his voice trailed off.
Finally, after much hyper-ventilating, he thrust his chin forward and shrieked, “I’m going to kill you!”
He then turned on his heels and charged off to a nearby table where he started gesticulating wildly to a group of red jerseys, occasionally turning back towards our table and pointing at Gary while nodding menacingly.

Unbeknownst to us, the fellow had just been telling our pal from Liverpool that he had gone to great lengths to get through the entire day without learning who had won the match. He was just about to sit down and watch it with his mates who had all accomplished the same feat.

But fate was not on his side. Gary was. And his perfectly orchestrated plans had been dashed right before his now glazed eyes.

An idle death threat, you ask? Something not to be taken seriously, perhaps? Well, maybe you should pose that question to certain Italian families? I for one wasn’t sticking around to find out. A woman scorned has nothing on a Kopite burned, and I was headed for home before this one unleashed his fury.

Oh, and if you’re curious, I did receive a text from Gary this morning, so I’m assuming he survived the ordeal. In the end, if I know Gary, he probably had them all charmed in no time, and has been invited to join in with them for the airing of the next match. Just like a Liverpool fan, Gary never seems to walk alone.

Confessions of a Sports Junkie

Sport - a particular activity (as an athletic game) so engaged in
Junkie - a person who derives inordinate pleasure from or who is dependent on something

Thus defined, a sports junkie would be an individual who is mad about playing sports. In terms of physical and mental health, this generally wouldn’t be considered such a bad thing.

In our society, however, the term has morphed into a description of an individual who is mad about watching sports, primarily on TV. A sports junkie is therefore some sort of extreme sports fan, as in fanatic.

Fanatic - marked by excessive enthusiasm and often intense uncritical devotion

One could certainly draw into question both the physical and mental health of just such a specimen. (For those interested in carrying out any scientific study, I would recommend doing so on February 3, when essentially the entire male population of Sports Junkies will be glued to their televisions and couches, gawking in awe at the Mecca of all Sports Junkie events – The Super Bowl. The much rarer female Sports Junkie may also be present, although sitings of the female are scarce indeed.)

I’ve never really thought of myself as a Sports Junkie, although a number of my close friends, especially my sister, would beg to differ. My thinking has been that I actually have other hobbies and activities that keep me occupied, so my entire life is not spent in front of the tube watching sports. In my mind, that makes me a casual sport watching enthusiast.

That said I’ve been known to watch 3 NFL football games in a row on a Sunday. Regardless of the fact that this is done as part of an exclusive “Haute Cuisine NFL” club, where we consume high end food and drink and discuss politics and philosophy while cheering on the Seattle Seahawks, some would say this makes me an addict, and thus a Sports Junkie. My sister finds the behavior appalling and in need of an intervention. I find it charming, amusing and quite, well, normal.

Nonetheless, an event occurred last night that I’m afraid leaves no doubt in the great Dave-as-Sports Junkie debate. For last night was the Men’s Semi-Final at the Australian Open. (That’s a tennis tournament for those of you not in the know, one of the four major annual tournaments). It promised to be a memorable match, with Roger Federer, the world’s number 1 player, taking on his most likely eventual successor at that lofty designation, Novak Djokovic.

Federer has been number 1 for as long as anyone can remember, but Djokovic has been closing in on him; beating him in some minor tournaments, and challenging him at several majors. Last night’s match promised to be something special, and I was determined to watch it – live.

There was just one small complication. The Australian Open is held in, where else, Australia (Melbourne, to be exact). I live in Vancouver, Canada, where the live feed started at 12:30 in the wee hours of the morning. If I were a sane person, a “non-fanatic” as it were, I would have set the VCR and watched the match at some reasonable hour over the upcoming weekend.

But a true aficionado of sport is not satisfied with day-old product. No, a true fan needs to see the match as it happens, with no chance of finding out who won prior to watching the events unfold. It’s almost as if the knowledge that the combatants are actually engaged in competition as you watch means that you’re a part of it. Sure, you’re half way across the world as you jump and scream during set point, or gnaw your nails to the bone during a third set tie breaker, but that’s the excitement of watching sports on TV when it’s live. Doing the same to a taped version of the same event would just be silly. Right?

So last night as I went to bed around 11, I set the alarm for 1 AM and promptly fell asleep. It was rather difficult to shake off the cobwebs when the alarm pulled me out of a deep sleep, but I managed to find the match on TV and propped myself up to watch history unfold.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t the five set marathon match I expected, but rather was a three set dismantling of the world’s number 1 by his younger opponent. There was some great tennis, but in the end, it was no contest. Djokovic had prevailed in less than three hours and the clock had yet to strike 4 AM. This was in its own way good news, because it meant that I could squeeze in another three hours of shut eye before my alarm would go off a second time, signifying it was time to get up and head to work. My late night sports watching plan didn’t seem so crazy after all.

There was just one small unforeseen problem. After the match I couldn’t sleep. No matter how hard I tried to convince myself otherwise, I was wide awake. Consequently, instead of merrily snoring away for the few hours I had left to do so, I all but finished reading Billy Bathgate, channel surfed and essentially watched the clock slowly march on towards dawn...

Thus, I am here before you to admit that, in certain cases and according to some people’s interpretation of the definition, I am indeed a Sports Junkie. I must be. The dark, puffy circles under my sunken eyes are a telltale sign, as is the incessant shaking of my hands and the odd head twitch I seem to have developed. My co-workers have been whispering about me all morning over at the water cooler. And, as with many other addictions, it has led to harder stuff. I’m currently on my third double espresso of the day. Sports Junkie, meet Coffee Junkie!