Hi-Jacked!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Rush'd: An Anniversary

Rush is located on 9th Ave, surrounded by the culture of Calgary’s down town. Or, more accurately, Rush is standing elegantly behind the valet parking which greets your arrival (complimentary, Thursday to Saturday after 6pm). As Kerry and I stepped out of the car and walked through the restaurant’s soaring entrance - doors being held open at every turn by a well dressed team of casual smiles - we came to understand that “Complimentary” is not so much an alluring gimmick at the restaurant, as it is the unwavering attitude of Rush (not to be confused with the unwavering attitude of Rush the Band, which is very much a different style of unwavering attitude, a much louder style).

Passed the hostess’ Congratulations, the continued Comp’d theme at the coat check, and the on-the-house celebratory glasses of Sparkling, was Mike. Mike was well mannered but casual; available, without lingering; he was willing to laugh, yet only with us; and most importantly (when like us, you are celebrating an anniversary) he was charming without distracting my girlfriend with flirtatious Jedi Mind-Tricks (that’s my job). Mike was more of a guide than a waiter. He offered us his sommelier side as well as the between-the-lines of the menu, complete with recommendations. Mike also went by ‘Mike’ and not ‘Michel’ or “Meeeeshelll-Le”, a quality one tends to appreciate when the restaurant is neither French nor overtly condescending. Let there be no confusion though, had a very French, very Michel waiter arrived at our table, and guided the hell out of the dinner service, as Mike did, I would be the first to slow-clap his mad restauranting skills. Truth; for truth I trade trust, and this non-Meeeeshelll-Le Mike avoided the caricature and shared a little bit of his true self on our special evening.

Fresh off our Okanangan wine tour, Kerry and I ordered a bottle of the 2008 Pinot Noir from Blue Mountain Vineyards (well priced with a silky texture that joined us from appetizer to après-dîner).

The evening allowed for the two of us to romantically reminisce, and smile, together, at our future. The simple, yet carefully created décor of the dining room stood around a space that provided an oddly comfortable balance of privacy and participation – when one has a glamorously gorgeous girlfriend, one wishes to share with the world her beauty… while he holds her hand and reminds on lookers what the score is, of course.

Complementing the conversation was the cuisine. I use this word intentionally; ‘cuisine’, not ‘food’, and far from anything that would make time with ‘grub’, ‘eats’, or ‘chow’. The chapters of our dinner presented themselves in a casual manner, and in a cleverly ironic fashion - there was no rush. From butter melting bread to our dueling desserts, the restaurant gave us a kind of culinary soundtrack; each dish contributing extra depth to the atmosphere of our anniversary (a duo of dessert delicacies is strongly advised, or a trio, do not fear the trio either). Our focus would drift from our two years, to talks of Taste and the ‘Art’ of the Culinary Arts, before finding ourselves again with a renewed smile. The exchange of an “Mmmmm”-and-a-furled-brow or an “Oooooo”-with-a-set-of-wide-eyes would have been enough to make ‘What about Bob?’ himself, in all his B-Murray glory, toss out a ‘When Harry met Sally’ and very much want what we were having…

Mike recommended both the Marinated Wild Pacific Halibut and the Alberta Beef Tenderloin, to go with our Duck Confit and Foie Gras Ravioli appetizer (les hors d'oeuvres in the area of $13 with entrées entertaining the $25-$35 range – a strong investment during these times of economic uncertainty). Kerry let the squid ink fettuccini, truffle scented dashi, ginger, and miso work with the Halibut to both bewilder and bewitch the taste buds, while my Meat and Potatoes dish abandoned Traditional for an exotic creativity; artichoke, smoked bacon, braised shallot, and confit potatoes were not so much Sides, as they were an extension of the tenderloin experience. It was a bitter sweetness to enjoy each bite, knowing that we were slowly losing the anticipation of the Chef’s work. Kerry and I were reluctant to go beyond a single bite-for-bite exchange; only true love let us part with the fork-full, we both knew that a second round of sharesies would have really put that love to work.

With all that said though, Rush isn’t for everyone. In fact, don’t go there… Part of the charisma of the night was knowing that Kerry and I had something so few were sharing. And although I have no fears of losing the uniqueness of the chemistry that holds us together (outstretched hands locked at the table’s centre), I do worry that others may translate this hidden gem into a hype that could steal away our secret. Reluctantly, I share my ‘four and a half Champagne Bubbles out of five’ rating with the world, hoping that in doing so I haven’t ruined Rush (with more irony of course, by causing a rush) – Kindness Killing, my most hated of Killing kinds.

In the same way we had entered, our departures were met with a warmth and invitation that will have us back. With the mystic of Vintage Chophouse, character of Buchanan’s, and elegance of Teatro, Rush makes the list and can enjoy my approval.

I am Jack’s impossibly high new standards.

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Book ending our anniversary, in strength and simplicity, were flowers and a card; Can’t argue the classics. With Rush taking care of the dinner scene, I allowed the flora to announce the day to a waking Kerry. Now, I could colour each petal with a description of the flower’s creamy texture, and play with your senses by turning their dizzyingly beautiful perfume into a collection of dream like adjectives, but the flowers didn’t need that kind of flashy costume, so that wasn’t the focus; for a flower to truly be a Flower, they must embody something more, something of substance. The substance of this vase was two years worth of our story.

In the same way that the flowers allowed the morning to speak from the heart, so too did the card for the evening. It was one more surprise for Kerry to unlock; surprises after all, are the corner stone of any well respected special day.

When it comes to cards, I don’t like them – at least not hot off the Hallmark press. Someone else’s words standing front and centre, between our two hearts, in this most loving of moments… unacceptable. It feels cold, it feels awkward, it feels like Gift Card level cop-out. Exceptions, special circumstances, the perfect card; yes, I know, there’s a time and a place for Carlton and Hallmark to fight for your affection. However, in general, I think there is no substitute for the Personal, and therefore, no reason why one can’t steal back the moment with their own special touch.

Kerry’s card had been carved up and covered in the unmistakable personality de Jack. I took the cute photo front and the single line body and queued up memories, coded it with inside jokes, moved passed the mass produced with a made-to-measure moment starring her and I. The card had become something so beyond what was pulled off the shelf; the card was alive.

The anniversary was once again, ours.

_______________

And as I shared with her, we share with you…

With our Past driving our Future; I let love entangle itself with two mirrored moments, two tales of the same statement of passion, an echo of the pull between Kerry and I was at the centre of my card to her:

Loves Echo

Moments and memories light up the past

Narration retold from smiling eyes

A moon to the morrow’s sunrise

A fading radiance parallels the beauty of my future

A warmth over a shadowed forgotten

New life fills the empty yesterday

To touch is to relive

Beginning once more, the heart repeats

To remember is to anticipate

Our history we chase in what’s yet to reveal

The light, her light, is all I need

Her beauty, her life, strengthens my hope

I am Jack’s most willing vulnerability…

Friday, July 22, 2011

How about this Heat!?!?

In the words of the great Denis the Leary “I walk around in the summertime saying ‘How about this heat?’”

I was outside at lunch, turns out it’s about “Melt Your Skin Off” degrees Celsius, which is roughly “Spontaneous Animal Combustion” Fahrenheit. I’m not so much complaining about the heat as I’m complaining about the slacks and dress shirt I’m costumed up in… that’s right, “slacks”, that’s where I’m at in my life, I own them, wear them, and am involved in slacks related activities.

Now, unlike the Leary, my weather wise commentary has nothing to do with tending towards @ssholelishness; That ‘weather-talk’, that dull filler that eats away at the soul and turns the brain to mush, that empty eye-witness rehearsal of what’s outside the window, that conversation that works so hard at stereotyping the weather as small talk… that’s not what I’m talking about. Right now, I’m throwing Big Talk at you, all kinds of Weather Big-Talking, and I’m throwing it on two levels.

This Big-Talk Weather is passionate. Passionate and whimsical, with just a shadow of belligerence. Today it’s Plus-a-Gazillion-Trillion degrees, yesterday the Heavens opened up and threw down frozen anger, earlier in the week tornado-talk themed the story of the Neighborhood-in-a-Blender drama; this weather is not your parents’ chit-chat, this is a new era of front-page excitement. It’s almost like Weather caught wind of its association with Small Talk and decided to up the ante (‘Weather catching wind’ a paradox? Perhaps, don’t worry about the word play though, just enjoy it and move on to the fun of understanding a Gazillion-Trillion as a number, which by the way is pri-ttay big).

Level 1 of Big Talk: Bad @ss Weather. Level 2… I’m not built for this stuff.

True, no one is ‘build for’ Twisters, or the Poseidon Adventure’s Land-Locked sequel, “Sink a City Atlantis-style: no time for Arcs or Snorkels, it’s Raining out here B!tch”, but I am not built for this heat. And these struggles of Perspiration, Rouging of the Cheeks, and a General Need to Complain are worthy of the Small Talk to Big Talk upgrade.

This is not a picture of me, this is a picture of a big fat guy, with a bald head, and an "I'm Special" look on his face. The only similarity between fatty here and myself is that I too need to deal with being sweaty - not this sweaty though, this is 'big fat guy' quality sweat...

So, what of all this? What does thou conclude from said weatheristic tyranny? ‘Work is Bad’. Or, alternatively ‘Pants are Bad’, hence, the Pants, and the Work must go. In head-scratching my way through this dilemma, I quote another idiot of the entertainment world, and resurrect Letterman’s 90’s slogan: “Let’s gooooo camping!”… the saying is also appropriate since the current plan for the weekend is to Go Camping.

But To-Camp is the weekender version of myself’s today version, which can’t help but utter:

Shiiiiiiiiiit, I wish I was hitting the highway today, joining the crew, tenting it up, and getting my Fire Stare on… but alas, these slacks won’t sweat through themselves. Not to worry though, I’ll do my best Mission Impossible 4 maneuver and title my escape plan “Friday, Early-Afternoon, you didn’t see anything (said with mysterious waving hands)” - is it possible, nay… not-impossible, that the MI4 movie trailer has inception’d my mind and made me believe that I believe chapter 4 of the MI series is the most important thing to have happened to the big screen since L. Ron Hubbard invented it, and life, and the Tology of Science? – regardless I choose to accepted the mission, I accept it AND want to grow my hair out like Tom Cruise.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V0LQnQSrC-g

Back to Weather, and it’s two levels of Big Talk, and the Sun, and some Fun, and Slacks…

Why was I out at lunch you might ask – other than to take a break from the one-two punch of ScreenLeft and ScreenRight on my desk, and to sweat, a lot? My search for a Ball Glove lead me out of the office and into the Summer’s sun – excuses are a favourite! My glove is a Rawlings, part of their, wait for it, Sandlot Line-up of mitts. Try not to like this glove. No one hears about a baseball glove with ‘Sandlot’ branded into its hide and thinks anything other than “I, like this glove, am awesome!” It’s a vintage looking grey leather, feels much like the Dreams people are talking about when they kick out “it feels like a dream!”, and makes me want to join Brother Webb the Younger in his pursuit of the BigLeague Chew chewing Majors.

I also bought a baseball, for throwing, and hopefully catching – if the catching part doesn’t work though, not to worry, Sportchek has a 60day return policy… BigLeague Chew here I come.

In summary: Weather is running operation “B!tch Slap”, I now wear Slacks, “to-Camp or not to-Camp” is the question matching “yes” which is my answer, Team-Tom and his band of marry Missions can count me as ‘@ss in seat’ on opening weekend of “4”, and I have reverse engineered a dream of playing in the Bigs by getting my left hand cozied up with a new Mitt. The only question that remains is: “Why is the heat on in this building?” The only possible answer: “I’m currently the Laugh at the end of some serious Tomfoolery” (not the Tom-Cruise kind from the MI4 trailer, but more the Tom-and-Jerry kind from the Cartoon by the same name)...

Thursday, July 7, 2011

the Tour, the Seine, the Moment

I have attached a pictoral of Kerry, myself, and that third-wheeling Tour da Eiffel.

The photo was taken by one of five Dudes at the table neighboring ours, while a second of said Dudes, greatly concerned for the future of our captured memory, back-seat-drove the hell out of the pic – it’s all part of the typical Romantic Dinner Cruise shtick, standard stuff… with the exception of the fun little J’rry twist.

Through my travels I have come to understand a certain truth: People, while distracted from the moment, try to capture the moment, wanting nothing but that silver-screen, model modelled, postcard idea of Perfect... and they fail. They struggle for that moment, fight for that moment, fight over that moment, but never even get the chance to lose that moment since their frustration in not being able to capture it, keeps them from ever being in it. They place all their focus on what the moment should be or could be and never spend any time letting the moment capture them.

This little marry-go-round of fun is usually the behind the scenes Cole's Notes for all those plastic faced smiles that fill the many point-and-shoot images of the traveler’s repertoire (a repertoire one tends to get the chance to suffer through when friends catch you in their “wanna see our pictures” trap). Half-Happy hiding the Misery that masks Happy’s other half. So that was this – that was what this picture was, however, instead of Kerry and I (Kerry and Jack, as in Jack and Kerry, as in J’rry…) fighting and scene-making and ruining the moment in order to try and capture it, we watched as 'Dude 1 vs Dude 2' reached eerie levels of “Like an Old Married Couple”, high-jacking our chance at baseless anger.

They went through all the stages of creating perfectly instilled drama, and weren’t even in the shot. What you do see in the shot, captured ever so subtly in our smiles, is a reflection of Dude-Drama flirting beautifully with the overwhelming atmosphere of our moment. In the end, this picture managed to climb the Best-Of Europa ladder by completely filling itself with “Moment” AND adding a plus-one to the invite in “5 Strange Dudes on a Boat”. Perfection.

We offered a return shot of their gathering but they declined. And no, they did not turn down the offer because they felt awkward being 5 Dudes on a Romantic Dinner Cruise of the Romantic Seine River in Romantic Pay-Ree. They declined the photo because they didn’t want to mess around with our amateurish abilities during this special piece of life – they had already invested 20 euro a pop in the half a dozen professionally captured moments of “5 Dudes” courtesy of the paid pro and her camera made of gold (and by ‘gold’ I mean the cold hard cash that sits between ‘Reasonably Priced’ and ‘Tulip-style inflation’ that she pockets and lines her bed with in order to answer “comfortably” to the price-tag’s companion ‘How do you sleep at night?’).

There are times when you find “Great”, times when you are lucky enough to catch “Special”, even times when the world waits and lets you get lost in “Magic”, then, there is “J’rry & Eiffel from the Seine – by the artist 5-Dudes”… Moments don’t get much better than that.

A few little extras finding their way into our photograph:

Lovin' the Illusion - notice how the man in the white shirt at the table behind ours has managed to strategically position himself in a way that makes it appear as though I am 3oo butter-ball lbs of French Cuisine stuffed mess.

A Half Hitchcock - though only a partial cameo, the arm in the foreground is actually an unnamed Dude #3 who is leaning forward and adding a Reach-and-Point to his peanut gallery commentary of Dude 1's camera work.

The 2nd Shooter - passed Kerry, passed the blurred waitress, and nuzzled up next to the left hand frame of the pic is a curious individual who at the end of the night introduced himself and participated in a brief small-talking back and forth with us. Why you might ask? Because he had taken a picture of this "Lovely couple, and wanted to know a bit of (their) story". It should be noted that this stockerazzi moment was brought to you by kindness and romance, and was in no way as creepy as it sounds now that I re-read the words.

Magic or Muscle - and finally, with most of these scratch-on-the-screen distractions only affecting the perimeter of the centre piece, I bring to you my favourite bit of photo funny business, and I bring it to you right at the focal point: a passing tower, a donnybrook of Dudes, and only one chair... as I float beside Kerry one might ask 'Is it magic or is it muscle... ?'

Monday, May 16, 2011

Cancer Killers

There are moments in history that stand taller than the rest. These moments have molded Pasts into Futures, created greatness where none could be seen, announced evil, let it thrive, then documented its destruction. There are moments that have transformed the world, others that have fought to keep it the same. There are moments that have become a page, a chapter, an entirety of a textbook. We have killed to keep moments as often as we have fought to ignore them. Whether the story finds the mainstream of a big screen, or remains a secret, hidden forever, these Best-Of moments are what shape our world.

The romance of history lies in its ability to move - amazing that something defined by time can have so little trouble ignoring its limiting structure. Whether finding itself in the eternity filed under "Before Hi-Jacked!", or taking place in the exhilarating Post-Me era, History is the poster child for accomplishment - History is the highlight reel of existence.

Order, Belief, Value, Sex, Age; History impacts us no matter how we string together the whos, the whats, and the hows. And the importance, well that type of question is all kinds of fun, you pick and choose... Agriculture, Alexander the Great, Jesus of Nazareth, Pax Romana, Muhammad, the Crusades, Genghis Khan, the Renaissance, Bubonic Plague, Gutenberg's Printing Press, Columbus, Michelangelo, Reformation, Shakespeare, Newton, Bach, American Revolution, Abolishment of Slavery, Bell's phone, Edison's Electric Light, Women Vote, the Wright Brothers Fly, Einstein's Theory of Relativity, Ford's Assembly Line, World War One, the Spanish Flu, the Big Bang Theory, Fleming's Penicillin, Hubble and the Universe, Nazis, Hitler, WW2, Pearle Harbour, The Bomb, The Wall, Gandhi, Martin Luther King, the discovery of the DNA Structure, Smallpox, AIDs, the Fall of the Wall, end of Apartheid, 9/11, Osama Bin Laden, Saddam Hussein, their deaths, North Korea, Hurricane Katrina, Stem Cell Research, oh yeah, and those old school hidden gems like Making Fire and the Wheel.

But recently, there's a new contestant looking to join the ranks of History's all-star lineup: Death of the Deadliest of Human Cancers...

http://www.dca.med.ualberta.ca/Home/Updates/2010-05-12_Update.cfm

I filled in the blank that was the post-script of this article with:

I see that this team of superheroes, who are basically driving Cancer up against the ropes and setting the stage for their Mortal Kombate "Finish Him" stratagem, was made up of not only the usual Cancer Killers (the Docs and Lab Coats), but also the EngiNerds (holla for the homies!).

This is heavy even for History. Forget Getting to the Moon, the Internet, electing a Black President, if humans can cure cancer we have a new Best-Of nominee. This Elite Task force, hunting down the terror that is Cancer is basically finding fairy tales and ignoring the make-believe ingredient - is there anything more amazing than the real pursuit of the fountain of youth? I can't wait for the ethical mess that would come from questions of immortality, from over population, from "playing God"... At this point that fun's hiding on the back burning though, because the fight still has the UofA's A-Team waiting for that Cancer KO. One thing is for sure, if History brings Cure-Cancer off the bench and puts her into the game, we will officially remove the question of whether or not the Dolphins are smarter than us. Live forever? Goooooo Humans!!!

Friday, May 13, 2011

A True Chemical Romantic

I do not like My Chemical Romance. It’s December 2006 and I’m holding a Christmas present from my brother. As I start to open the CD-case shaped gift, he jumps into an explanation of something I only partially pay any attention to. I tune him in when I get the paper off of an album called “The Black Parade”. At this point he’s informing me that I do not like My Chemical Romance. I look up from the My Chemical Romance disc and wait for the punch line. It doesn’t come. It’s not a joke. He has spent time, money, and thought getting me the latest release from a band neither of us like.

He tells me I’ll like it. He tells me he’d been skeptical but that he likes it. He tells me about strong reviews, radio coverage, a cool music video on the internet. He tells me a lot of things. Then he tells me to play the CD.

By the third song I was smiling. After a full run through, intro to hidden track, I was a fan. After rolling the album over twice I was totally hooked. At this point, the Brothers Webb decided that we needed to see these guys live, and if they found Cal on their next tour, we would be there, no question.

My Chemical Romance arrived in Calgary three days after we left. “We would be there, no question…” There was a question, and the answer was “no MCR if we are in Europa”. Terrible timing. And just like that, the Black Parade had marched by. We were punished for being BandWagon jumpers.
_________________________________________________

“Look alive, Sunshine…”

There hadn’t been a note of music yet, but this was the official announcement from the stage that MCR was in the queue.

“109 in the sky but the pigs won’t quit
You’re here with me, Dr. Death Defying
I’ll be your surgeon, your proctor, your helicopter
Pumpin’ out the slaughtermatic sounds to keep you alive
A system failure for the masses, empty matter for the master plan
Louder than God’s revolver and twice as shiny
This one’s for all of you rock’n’rollers
All you crash queens and motor babies
Listen up!
The future is bulletproof!
The aftermath is secondary!
It’s time to do it now and do it loud!
Killjoys, make some noise!”

People actually ran, dangerously. Nothing as dramatic as pushing or

shoving, but I saw one person spin-out and bail, and a number of others ditching nearly full adult beverages in order to trade Beer-Gardens for Front-Stage – sacrificing stimulus for stimulus. It was the same intro poetry that shot through my speakers the first time I fired up “Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys” – an adventurous title for an album of equal quality.

_________________________________________________

The Fabulous Killjoys was to their fourth studio album what the Black Parade had been to their third. This was something I really liked about My Chemical Romance, the band was as Method as Brando, the band dug Alter Egos. During their time as the Black Parade, the group performed as characters from the album, costumed in black marching uniforms, giving us MCR but with a personality twist.

Representing the lead singer Gerard Way’s belief that death comes for a person in the form of their fondest memory, to don the black uniforms was to become part of the album’s rock opera – the story of “The Patient” and his passage out of life, through the afterlife, and into reflection of his existence. It’s not as dark as you think. It is definitely as unique as it sounds though. It is a near perfect album that wavers between beauty and sadness, and along the way clutches you with power, contemplation, and humor. It’s a Rock Opera, and Rock Operas will do that to you.

The Killjoys are night and day to the Parade, or rather day and night. Not in the way that the groups are detached, but rather in their related difference – opposition in perfect connection. Standing apart as Vibrant to Pale, Action to Death, Speed to Strength, the two Day and Night editions of The Romance are that mix of consistency and unknown that give substance to both volumes; the first and the sequel.

On stage as on CD cover, the Fabulous Killjoys are colour charged with fast outfits and loud personas that energize MCR’s 4th chapter. Their bios are a story of outlaws, carrying aliases picked up off their designer guns, driven to fight comic-book evil and save fairy-tale girls. It’s almost Shakespearean it’s so rooted in Classic. For some reason lead-singer Gerard Way’s red hair works. Matched with their holstered guns and bright biker jackets, the group screams Business and creates a post-apocalyptic warrior vibe. Like the Black Parade this MCR quartette is raw, unified, and like nothing else out there. The Killjoys are cool, the Killjoys have that Be-Like-Mike effect on you, the Killjoys are a strangely comfortable mix of Tarantino’s ‘the Bride’ and Marvel’s ‘Biker Mice from Mars’. And meanwhile, they also rock a mic with the best of them.

_________________________________________________

Dr. Death Defying’s radio broadcast warmed the air, and gave way to the Killjoys’ colour and rebelled ways.

Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na) [Killjoys]
Venom [3 Cheers]
Planetary (Go!) [Danger Days]
Hang Em High [3 Cheers]
Vampire Money [Danger Days]
Mama [Black Parade]
Only Hope [Danger Days]
House of Wolves [Black Parade]
Summertime [Danger Days]
I’m Not Okay [3 Cheers]
Famous Last Words [Black Parade]
Destorya [Danger Days]
Black Parade [Black Parade]
Teenagers [Black Parade]
Bulletproof Heart [Danger Days]
Helena [3 Cheers]
Cancer [Black Parade]
Kids from Yesterday [Danger Days]
(recorded acoustic version) Sing [Danger Days]

This is how a band, who toys with identity crisis and personality reconstruction, puts together a set list. Brilliance. Slotting tracks from across their discography, MCR stitched together vastly different genres of music, creating a fluid performance. This is also how a band with a fan base carrying everything from real life emo-vampires to 15-year-old pop princesses, thanks the Underground and the Mainstream followings at the same time.

While the Brothers Webb were fluent in the ways and words of “the Parade” and “Danger Days”, MCR’s first two albums had only been briefly explored retrospectively. The beautiful thing about watching the Killjoys cover the stage was that we were thirsty for new favourites like ‘Planetary (Go!)’ and ‘Bulletproof Heart’, longing for retro classics circa 06 a la ‘Mama’ and ‘Famous Last Words’, and excited about unearthing what many long time Chemical Romantics had already loved, lost, and resurrected (the Helena’s and Hang Em High’s of collections 1 and 2). Although it was the same band sending out music and lyric from “Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge”, things had changed. They had changed. They were no longer a group peeking out from behind a debut cult disc (“I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love”), walking into the light of the general public for the first time with “3 Cheers”; they were that, the post-Parade, and the comic book Killjoys, all 'Genre Law-Breaking' together.

And I had changed; I liked them. The concert indulged the New Need, reminded the Long Love, educated the Ever Explorer, and satisfied that something that could only be fulfilled playing the Starved Spectator.

_________________________________________________

A concert’s music is a restaurant’s menu; it’s the foundation for substance, it’s the creative heart, it’s the outlet of quality, it’s only the beginning. My Chemical Romance introduced an energetic team of Killjoys. Lead singer Gerard Way and his line-up of mates pushed 90minutes of big sound and bigger presence from stage to cheap-seat. They were the foreground to a balanced backdrop that felt large enough to support the group’s anthems, while maintaining a subtlety deserving of any raw Rock. The opening acts took hold of their By-Association but didn’t overstay their welcome. Perhaps seen as a demotion from their Black Parade stadium stay in 2008, Calgary had offered MCR the MacEwan Hall, which housed all the Youth and Rough and Vibrant that alt-rock could want. The crowd had prep’d for a party, the beer gardens roared and swelled with life, the Hall and the lobby and the gardens became one, and the Merch line danced around it all. Everyone sang to the ceiling during ‘Teenagers’, the odd lighter joined the cell screens for ‘Kids from Yesterday’, no one stood still during ‘Na Na Na’, and when the lights announced the curtains close, the crowd burst into review. Sometimes the best part of live music is between the notes and behind the melody – the Brothers Webb barely blinked in order to drink it all in. Even after a post-performance breakdown that stretched out over beverage and a homeward bound walk, we still aren’t done reliving the Live.

MCR was worth the wait, worth the cost of admission, and worth the over-priced scraps from the back of the Merch table that I left with.

_________________________________________________

Since the concert, the band has taken hold of my stereo and now grips me with a new allure. The Post-DangerDays version of myself has changed, yet again; He (being ‘I’) is hearing the Black Parade again but for the first time; He has found in the Killjoys a personality and charm that had lacked when the songs were just ‘tracks’; He craves more from My Chemical Romance, anything, everything, all ways, always. This rejuvenation is a clear sign of true live music – a concert should open the group up and offer you new depth, depth that gives the band more character, depth that layers your love of them. I am now a true My Chemical Romantic.

I’m not the only one…

I have no need for keeping secrets of the MCR kind. While casually getting debriefed by a co-worker, the Night-Before story turned into a show and tell, resulting in a trade: Killjoys for a little John Prine. Like any good Texan, said co-worker loved that Prine-style folk, and had ranted and raved in turn about his ability to woo an audience. I had an incline that Prine’s wooing was mildly different from the Chem’s wooing, but John Prine didn’t concern me, I can dig the Country/Folk, it was handing a member of the Prine Pride something like Danger Days that felt bold. I opened for the band with some Wiki facts, and described their music like I were a connoisseur of abstract art – nothing is more entertaining when it comes to the business of translating music than teaming odd adjectives together. I told him MCR spent more time as Alternative than Hard Rock, I told him of my hate-love

relationship with them, I told him the group’s groove was Poetic and Colourfully Aggressive. I love My Chem, recommend the Chem, vouch for the Chem, promote the Chem, but I had no hope for the building of bonds between Team Prine and the Killjoys. I should have. I was wrong. Mr. Texas Folk powered through Danger Days twice without coming up for a air. He imported the tracks on to his computer, and when he finally pulled the phones off his ears, asked if I had another dose for him.

Along with many other stories of MCR pimpery, the Danger Days Tour transformation that I have undergone has re-fueled my drive to discover. I now want more of that feeling. It’s a Greed that can’t be tamed by one band, and so I search. It’s great to find passion, and to love music is to love the excitement of Life. So I say: Listen to My Chemical Romance. I say: move off the Dial’s pre-sets. I say: Shazam all of it. I say: YouTube is your friend. I say: Make music part of your life. And if you need a nudge, I say let Hi-Jacked! highjack your player.

And if it all makes sense, and you miss the confusion, listen to the rhythm and rhyme of Dr Death Defying and just go with the flow:

Bad news from the zones tumbleweeds
It looks like Jet-Star and the Kobra Kid
Had a clap with an exterminator that went all Costa Rica
And uh got themselves ghosted, dusted out on route Guano
So it’s time to hit the red-line and up thrust the volume out there
Keep your boots tight, keep your guns close
And die with your mask on if you’ve got to
Here, is the traffic

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Get to know MCR – more than a Band, more than music:

- “Vampire Money” was written in response to an offer made by the producers of Twilight – they wanted MCR to write music for the movies, MCR thought the movies sucked, MCR never wrote a song for Twilight, MCR wrote “Vampire Money”, “Vampire Money” makes fun of Twilight.
- The Band refers to their music as Violent-Pop.
- Gerard Way worked as an Animator and Comic Book Artist before becoming the face of MCR.
- At the age of 15, Gerard Way was held at gun point. Gerard’s brother and MCR member has also been held at gun point.
- At the age of 15, Mikey Way was bootlegging Disney Movies and auctioning them off on E-Bay. Mikey was caught by authorities.
- The younger of the Way brothers, Mikey was working in a book store and had picked up Irvine Welsh’s book “Ecstasy: Three Tales of Chemical Romance”. Mikey thought ‘Chemical Romance’ had a cool ring to it. Mikey also thought that adding a ‘My’ in front of it sounded even better.
- The first song written by Gerard Way, and the subsequent start of My Chemical Romance, was “Skylines and Turnstiles” – the song draws inspiration from the effect the September 11the attacks had on Way.

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And now, as Live and Raw as the performance, Footage from a Fan - iPhone Art:

Wednesday, May 4, 2011

The Preemie Elephantini

Relationships can't be described - at least not in any detail, and not if they're made of real substance. The moment two people connect is the moment words lose ground, and life takes on a new level of quality. Whether driven by Love, bonded through Friendship, covered in Hate, or simplified as Acquaintance, the complexities of interaction don't play favourites.

It's partly their emotional nature, partly their diversity, but ultimately, what makes the portrayal of Relationships so fluid and abstract is their intricacy. If you think you understand their 'whys', don't be funny, you don't, you can't, no one can, and that's why Relationships are so beautiful (and ugly and painful and perfect).

I could go into great detail about NickName origin stories, the Romantic-Comedy movie we've lived, the way my personality hugs hers, but sometimes less is more. Kerry and I met, danced the dance, moved in close to play house, and are now building up our own fairytale happiness with each day that passes.

Don't worry about standard rules, Relationship Do's-and-Dont's, or what the movies tell you - sometimes love just does its own thing:

[from the email history of Jack Webb's sent messages]

Hi Kerrykins,

Today is May 4th, meaning that if we were Elephants and had made special Elephant love on our first date, and we had created a perfect little Preemie Elephantini, that we would be introducing our own little undersized Dumbo into the world today. The truly beautiful thing is that had we been Elephants, and decided to create Elephantini Tinny life on August 4th of 2009, it would have been perfect, because right now, today, I wouldn’t want to have a little Elephant with anyone else.

Happy 21 months my Love. Je t'aime beaucoup Kéri.

Xoxo
John

Next up is the Elephant Anniversary - 22months of togetherness matching the gestation period of the beautiful beast. Welcome to the thoughts of my inner nerd. See also the 9month Baby Anniversary (that's a human baby, not to be confused with the elephant baby or the premature elephant infant)... like I said, sometimes love just does its own thing.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

A Witness to History

"Osama Bin Laden".

I was at the dining room table, playing my part in the post-meal, Sunday Night debrief. Family discussed, chatted, and talked about our worlds and the weekend and life's special moments. There was no talking when President Obama got to the podium. He addressed the nation, the world, me, and as the people I love gathered in silence, history presented itself.

Osama Bin Laden. Terrorism. September 11th. Evil. And now, synonymous with this name can be added "Dead". Or more appropriately "Dead!"

We had raced into the TV room as breaking news alerts threw around the Taliban Leader's name and attached it to Death. So rarely does time stop. So rarely does the universe open itself up and reveal a secret so precious that time needs to slow down to fit it in. So rarely does nothing else matter. Barak Obama confirmed that the symbol of Terror had been killed. He delivered a speech that will reach around the world, with endless speed, and touch lives in a most powerful of ways.

Tonight, as the beautiful chaos of life began to wind down a Sunday evening, the unity of Good was strengthened as a new chapter began. For the victims of the September 11th attacks, for the families of the murdered, for the people in fear of terror, everything has changed. And as the President described the beginning of this new chapter, this version of Yesterday but without Bin Laden, I felt a warmth that only true greatness can bring.

Like Mitch Rap, or Jack Bauer, or 007, the good guys worked their way through a mine-ridden chess board to respond to an attack on innocence that began nearly two decades ago. But unlike the Bauers, Bournes, and Bonds of the spy genre, the heroes of today's history found victory outside the arena of fiction, giving us richer reward from a deeper risk.

We will not allow evil to push us around. We will not settle for uncertainty, fear, terror. We will not go quietly. We will not stop. We will fight back! I felt chills, because this moment, this piece of history, was more than a headline could handle, it was more than information, it was bursting at the seams - it was pure life.

Tomorrow we will wake up to a new world. A world where Peace and Liberty, join the charge of Good-over-Evil, and the Free World in celebration. Osama Bin Laden is dead. Our world tomorrow is a better place. We got him!