my "coming home" to Newfoundland

One of the difficult aspects about growing up in southern Ontario is grappling with what some have referred to as the Canadian identity crisis. Endless books, blogs, essays (including this one) have been devoted to lamenting "just what exactly is a Canadian?"

There are some groups of people for whom this is not a problem: the Québécois is one of the more obvious that comes to mind. I would also imagine that different First Nations groups, such as the Inuit, don't really struggle with the Canadian identity either. This is because identity, to these folk, is attached to the Québécois and Inuit cultures, and not to an ethereal "Canadianness." What Canadians don't realise is that each of these are our cultures. Canadians should not be defined by qualities common to all citizens; Canadians should be defined by the celebration of the multitude of subcultures within our national borders.

Newfoundland is home to another subculture that emerged from a province late in joining Confederation (not "being Canadian" is still well within living memory), as well as a province that is removed, both geographically and (I think as a result) metaphysically. This relative isolation, alongside the special relationship Newfoundlanders have with the sea, fostered an intense amount of community-building and island-specific culture that survives to this day. Some examples I witnessed first hand on my recent visit:

• an entire room will slowly tap their feet to a rousing mandolin performance
  
• the colourful local language and turns of phrase
  
• the flying of the "pink, white and green," the unofficial flag of Newfoundland
  
• fishermen will hum along with the traditional songs that they can hear coming over the water
  
• the art and crafts (even some of the local, non-tourist work) that reflects iconic Newfoundland images
  
• the deep desire to "come home" back to Newfoundland after any time away on the mainland

So in response to that lack-of-identity instilled upon me in southern Ontario, I find myself compellingly drawn to Newfoundland because I'm discovering what I consider to be a piece of my Canadian identity. This was only my second visit, but I'm already looking forward to my next chance to "come home."

New York City

Dear NYC,

I know we've had our differences over the years. But despite our tumultuous times, we really nailed it in the end, didn't we? At least I feel that way. There are so many things that I want to say to you, but I can't bear to say out loud because, well to tell you the truth, the only way I've been able to cope these past few days/weeks/months is through denial. So rather than listen to me fall apart in front of you, just know that you will always be there with me as I leave you. And know that I'll visit soon. Because yeah, you're that good.

Thanks for the good times; and even some of the bad. All the best.

CONSUMED: New York City, for the past 5 years

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Dear Canada: Oh how I've missed you so. C'mere you.

MEC SuperMicroft cycling jacket

When my friend Ben gifted me with my first road bike (a 12-speed 1980s Velo Sport), I didn't really know how far I would dip into the cycling world. Before I knew it, I found I had outfitted myself with a Chrome bag and a $100 New York-ready chain lock. I was changing my own busted tubes (and patching those that were repairable). But then the weather turned, and I found myself climbing the stairs to the subway more and more. Suddenly, after a month of commuting by train, I decided that the New York winter was mild enough that it was possible to ride to work. It was time to get back on the saddle again.

My only problem? I didn't have a wind or water-resistant coat.

Thankfully my decision to ride came just prior to a trip home for the holidays. And so I went to the new Mountain Equipment Co-op that opened up 15 minutes from my parents' house and bought me a cycling jacket. For $50 (made in Canada too! who ever said locally-made was more expensive?), I got exactly what I needed. And it's already saved me twice from the weather (wind once, and rain another).

CONSUMED: Mountain Equipment Co-op; 1030 Brant St, Burlington

top 10 albums of 2008

I decided my first post of the year was going to be a reflective one. But don't worry, I won't be writing you a cautionary tale on how 2008 was the beginning of the end, or a didactic on how to turn your life around from lessons learned over the past year. No no, what I wanted to do, rather, was the extremely egotistical exercise of listing my top ten albums of 2008. Especially since I spent a bit of time scouring my iTunes play counts in order to figure out whether there was an objective way to come up with this list. And I think I've got it. So with no further ado (also can I mention how pleased that 8 of the 10 artists are Canadian?):

1. Land of Talk :: Some Are Lakes
   
2. Ra Ra Riot :: The Rhumb Line
   
3. Wintersleep :: Welcome to the Night Sky
   
4. Old Man Luedecke :: Proof Of Love
   
5. Basia Bulat :: Oh, My Darling
   
6. Shad :: The Old Prince
   
7. Wolf Parade :: At Mount Zoomer
   
8. Beirut :: The Flying Cup Club
   
9. The Stolen Minks :: High Kicks
   
10. Chad VanGaalen :: Soft Airplane

CONSUMED: on my iPod, in 4 different countries, and at various altitudes above 10,000 feet

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So I'm going to give the blog another go. I must send a thanks to all those kids who asked me about the future of this blog in person. It's always great to get feedback, especially when comments are often quiet. Having said this: 2009 should be the year of comments! Comment away, friends!

Wintersleep :: Welcome to the Night Sky

Has anyone noticed that the Halifax music scene is kickin' right now? Actually what has probably has happened is that I've pulled my head out of my metaphorical Toronto/Montreal-centric ass. That and having visited Halifax first hand and seeing that city really for what it is (i.e. not the "east coast's poor attempt at a metropolis", but rather an up-and-coming town of hip and alternative culture).

I was attracted to the concert at Terminal 5 because of the headliners, Wolf Parade. But I left enthralled with the opener, Wintersleep. Their CD safely stowed in my pack pocket, I went home with their rich harmonies ringing in my ears. And then over the next few weeks, I consumed their new album with such vigour I would have burned new grooves into the CD had it not been for my iPod. Now over four months since that concert and I still find myself gravitating towards that album when I don't know what else to put on. And though I think I should give other new music a chance, why deny guaranteed satisfaction?

CONSUMED: Terminal 5; Manhattan

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And thus ends my posts for NaBloPoMo. Back to weekends off, folks.

absentee ballot

Monday October 6th: [12-noon] I call Elections Canada and discover that my original mailed ballot got lost due to an understandable misinterpretation of a handwritten "S" as an "5". Hesitantly, I ask if another ballot could be mailed (well aware that the election was happening in 8 days). I am told that yes, one will be sent out that day. [5pm] I receive an email: "TNT is pleased to advise you that ELECTIONS CANADA has arranged for a shipment to be collected from them on 06-Oct-2008, and delivered to you in BROOKLYN." I am slightly upset that taxpayers money is going to paying for courier services for absentee ballots, but mostly excited that I still might be able to vote.

Tuesday October 7th: [4pm] I go online to check out the voting history of my riding. Despite the fact that the Liberal party has held our riding for the past 4 elections, I was shocked to learn that they won the 2004 election only by 744 votes! All of a sudden, I realise that my riding is one of those contentious electoral districts! My vote CAN count if I want it to. [11pm] I arrive home only to find a "delivery exception notice" on my door. I frantically call the courier company and get them to promise to attempt a delivery at my work, as a redelivery attempt to my apartment would be futile.

Thursday October 9th: My ballot arrives! I quickly fill it out (voting "strategically" rather than honestly) and go straight to a courier company here in New York. I pay $40 to ensure that my vote makes it to Ottawa on time.

CONSUMED: at work; New York, NY

Chad VanGaalen :: Soft Airplane

Maybe it's because this guy is from my hometown, which some may describe as a "cultural wasteland." Maybe it's because he exudes awkwardness: he's tall, lanky, his voice sounds like it's always on the edge of cracking, and he's always hermitically making music in his basement!

Or maybe it's because he's making music unlike anything that's coming out of Canada right now. Rather he's been blazing his own trail and wooing Canadians since 2003. But now with this third album under his belt, Chad VanGaalen has proven that he's not going anywhere anytime soon (and thank goodness for that).

With just enough quirk (he went to art school after all) to appease the most discriminating of music critics, and just enough catchy hook to keep him really accessible, he definitely deserves a listen. (There's more of his tracks on the CBC Radio 3 website, if you can figure out their not-so-intuitive music player.)

CONSUMED: Zulu Records; 1972 West 4th Avenue, Vancouver

moose pillows

Something strange happens to you once you've lived several years as an ex-pat. Some may call it homesickness. Others may refer to it as nostalgia. I call it a healthy sense of patriotic identity.

For me, it started with missing those things that I encountered daily: the CBC and the Globe and Mail, Tim Horton's, French on boxes of cereal. Then it manifested itself as cravings for foods unavailable in my new country of residence: ketchup chips, Peak Freans fruit creme cookies, Coffee Crisp chocolate bars. Most recently, after having lived now for over 4 years as a Canadian in the States, it has revealed itself as a sudden penchant for all things kitsch about my home country.

Case in point: A true indicator that I've entered this third phase occurred when I was staying at a lodge in Canmore, Alberta during a trip for a friend's wedding. Of course, there was the typical ski chalet/log cabin decor (see: furniture made from tree branches) as well as the magnificent backdrop of the Rocky Mountains that played a role in sending me into this fit of nostalgia. But despite the jackrabbit wall mounts and the twig clothes pegs, what really caught my attention were these garish pillows on which the silhouettes of moose were stitched onto a background of lumberjack plaid. What could reek more of rustic Canadiana? And yet, I took an oddly particular liking to them. So much so that I considered stuffing one into my bag (but then thought against that since I was staying in the lodge under my friend's hospitality).

Perhaps not surprisingly, there's a store that caters to maple leaf-obsessed individuals such as myself. Luckily, it's far far away from me, up in Toronto. Best to keep it that way.

CONSUMED: Paintbox Lodge; Canmore, Alberta

Shad :: The Old Prince

For three years now, Canada has been the home to the Polaris Music Prize. The award is based on actual artistic merit (as judged by music broadcasters, bloggers and journalists) and not music sales (see: Grammys and Junos). And so the nominees represent the best music that has come out of Canada over the past year.

This year, the award shortlist contained some up-and-comers (Holy Fuck, Two Hours Traffic, Plants and Animals) mixed with heavy hitters (Stars, The Weakerthans, Kathleen Edwards). But after giving everyone a brief listen, what caught my ears were not the indie rock/pop outfits, but rather the lone hip hop album on the list.

Shad's style of emceeing falls under my personal classification as "hip hop" and not "rap," which means that he lays down rhymes about personal and political issues rather than bling-bling and bitches. The best example is in "Brother" where he talks through his frustration of how black youth are tied up in a form of "mental slavery" where the only images of black identity they see involve "makin' tracks or...hoops...or movin' packs for the loot." He calls on black activists to not try to "match any image of blackness" but rather just "do what you're passionate to." In layering his lyrics over a piano/vocal riff not unlike those used by Common, Shad makes this track is one of the sweetest on the album.

But my favourite track is definitely "The Old Prince Still Lives at Home," in which the beat sample cuts out two-thirds the way through the song. "I couldn't afford the whole beat," he says on the track. Then he spits another verse on top of hand claps and a chorus of "hollas!" Even if he didn't win the Polaris Prize this year, he definitely deserves the acclaim afforded by the nomination.

CONSUMED: Red Cat Records; 4307 Main Street, Vancouver