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This MoNTh in Ion
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Editor’s Letter The mind really begins to wander when you have too much time on your hands. Of the Month Cats in sinks, ping-pong the video game, zombies that wanna rock the vote, The Minutemen, Zero 7, and a store with swell shirts. Hatebeak Rock. Parrot Rock. Bums Are Boring If it wasn’t for my artistic nude photography I’d never get laid. Preloved They turn other people’s junk into your favourite new outfit. Fashion Roadkill A representative from Modeling Union Local No. 1783 was on set to ensure that no models were actually killed in shooting of this fashion editorial. The Jolts Your favourite hyper-caffeinated beverage is now a great new band. The Subatomics Rock ‘n’ Roll High School-ers. Liars They’ll tear your heart out and eat your soul. Because they’re the… Man Man Lead singer Honus Honus explains why Man Man are fun fun stuff stuff. Poster Art: Cody Fennell What’s that? Up on the telephone pole? It’s an ad for a garage sale? It’s some insane man’s ramblings about Jesus? No, it’s the poster art from a talented young artist. Album Reviews Tales of Ordinary Madness Sam has some issues with obese people. Something tells us obese people might have issues with Sam. Horoscopes ION’s in-house astrologer has really been sucking in the rays this summer. And by rays we mean over-proof alcohol, pills and LSD. The Perry Bible Fellowship
Volume 4 Number 6 Issue 31 Publisher
Vanessa Leigh vanessa@ionmagazine.ca
Editor in Chief Michael Mann editor@ionmagazine.ca Arts & Culture Editor Jennifer Selk jen@ionmagazine.ca Fashion Editor Vanessa Leigh fashion@ionmagazine.ca Acting Film Editor Michael Mann film@ionmagazine.ca Music Editor Bryce Dunn bryce@ionmagazine.ca Photo Editor Fiona Garden photos@ionmagazine.ca Advertising DJ Lampitt dj@ionmagazine.ca Elizabeth Wolber lib@ionmagazine.ca Advertising Accounts Manager Natasha Neale natasha@ionmagazine.ca Copy Editor Marisa Woo Art Department Danny Fazio danny@ionmagazine.ca John Morrison john@ionmagazine.ca Website Andrew Bobic Contributing Writers: Paul Borchert, Tara Conley, Filmore Mescalito Holmes, Sarah Hutchinson, Sam Kerr, Arthur Krumins, D.B. LeHouillier, Luke Meat, Trevor Risk, Ernold Sane, Natalie Vermeer, Chris Walters Contributing Photographers: Roger Allen, Toby Marie Bannister, Trish Connolly, Kelsey Huget, Jason Lang, Syx Langemann, Andre Princes, Natalie Vermeer ION is printed 10 times a year by the ION Publishing Group. No parts of ION Magazine may be reproduced in any form by any means without prior written consent from the publisher. ION welcomes submissions but accepts no responsibility for the return of unsolicited materials. The opinions expressed by writers and artists do not necessarily reflect those of ION Magazine. All content © Copyright ION Magazine 2006 Hey PR people, publicists, brand managers and label friends, send us stuff. High resolution jpegs are nifty and all but it’s no substitute for the real thing. Clothing, sneakers, liquor, video iPods (60 gig version only), CDs, vinyl, DVDs, video games, and an Xbox 360 can be sent to the address below. We’re serious about the Xbox 360. We really want one. 3rd Floor, 300 Water Street. Vancouver, BC, Canada V6B 1B6 Office 604.6969.ION Fax: 604.6969.411 www.ionmagazine.ca feedback@ionmagazine.ca Cover Photo: Fiona Garden Model: Kelsea - Lizbell Agency
EDITOR’S LETTER Words Michael Mann Photography Toby Marie Bannister You should really take summer off. You owe it to yourself to march up to your boss and demand the summer off, with pay. After your boss says ‘yes’ point out that global warming means longer summers and demand not to come back till November. Suggest resuming work near Remembrance Day so your first week back will only be four days. If that doesn’t fly, do absolutely nothing for two weeks. When your boss brings you into his office to discuss your performance, flip his desk over and scream “you can’t fire me because I quit.” Everyone needs to say that at least once in their lifetime and you shouldn’t have to put up with that jerk’s bullshit anyways. Now that you’ve cleared your schedule, it’s time to properly enjoy your summer. Think of the fun stuff you can do now that all your time is spare time. You can get drunk a lot. Summer is a great time to get drunk. Drinking in public is socially acceptable and you don’t need to wait till sunset to reach for the top shelf of the hard bar.There’s nothing rad about alcoholism, so don’t become a depressing boozehound who sits on barstools boring everyone who comes within earshot with their life story. Become a charming lush who slurs witty or deliciously ribald things
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at all the right moments and teaches people about themselves; like how to love, laugh and enjoy life. Aside from being a great time to get drunk, summer is also a great time to take up a hobby. Why not combine the two and make your own alcohol? It’s the secret the liquor Illuminafia doesn’t want you to know: you can get wasted for pennies if you make your own hard liquor. For a mild investment of around $40 you can buy your own distillery on eBay. So buy that still and give it a pretty girl’s name. The ingredients are cheap and readily available in your neighbour’s kitchen cabinet. Start off with something simple that has history and character like moonshine. True, it tastes disgusting but it gets the job done and reports of it causing blindness are wildly exaggerated. It did cause something called Jake leg syndrome which paralyzed thousands in the 30’s. No one wants to spend a summer in a wheelchair so maybe feed some to a teenager before indulging in it yourself. Say it’s Long Island iced tea mix. Teenagers love Long Island iced tea mix. Why teenagers always want you to buy them Long Island iced tea mix is something that should keep you awake at night. It’s cool though because
you don’t have to wake up early tomorrow. Pop culture references to the drink are seldom at best. Yet somehow this filthy drink has managed to work its way into the collective mindspace of teenagers everywhere. They don’t even know what’s in it (five whites: vodka, tequila, rum, gin, triple sec). They just know if you mix this stuff with Snapple it gets you wasted. Perhaps teenagers’ enjoyment of Long Island iced teas is a byproduct of consistently getting wasted off a shit mix of Johnny Walker Red label, Beefeater, Smirnoff, triple sec, vermouth, and cognac. All of which was carefully pilfered from liquor cabinets in minute amounts to avoid parental detection. Who knows? What you do know is you have time to ponder such trivial things because it’s summer and you’re unemployed and loving it. So when you’re sitting on a beach plastered out of your tree in a shirt you’ve worn for a week straight and someone screams “get a job hippy”— just ignore them. These sober people with clean shirts and jobs are jealous about your newfound freedom. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
The new Toyota RAV4. It’s whatever you want it to be.
Regency Toyota 401 Kingsway @ 12th Vancouver, B.C. 604.879.8411 regencyauto.com
Of THe MoNTh
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Pet Kitten
GameS Hitman: Blood Money
Rockstar Presents: Table Tennis
Cats hate water but love to sit in your sink. It’s an interesting contradiction. It’s such an interesting contradiction that there’s an entire website dedicated to it called Cats in Sinks (www.catsinsinks.com). Even more bizarre than that is the people who run this site also run sites called Daily Kitten (www.dailykitten.com) and Kitten War (www.kittenwar.com), where you can literally waste hours staring at pictures of adorable little kitties. Then there’s Cats That Look Like Hitler (www.catsthatlooklikehitler.com)... the people who made these other three sites have nothing to do with Hitler cats or ‘Kitlers’ but you should check it out anyways. Send your pictures to pet@ionmagazine.ca. If we use them you’ll receive a prize that pales in comparison to having your animal friend immortalized in print.
Games where you run around indiscriminately blowing people away get tiresome after a while. Sometimes you just wanna creep around in the shadows and kill people with a piano wire.That’s exactly what Hitman: Blood Money lets you do. You’re a ruthless clone who gets off on killing people for money. The key is to sneak in, kill your target by making their death look like an accident and sneak out without being detected. So plant bombs on chandeliers, slip poison into drinks, or push people out windows. Once you’re done it’s time to sneak out and collect your cheque. Sadistically satisfying.
Pong came out in 1972 and your parents will tell how mind blowing it was to move a rectangle up and down a screen to hit a ball that rapidly accelerates despite being square-shaped. Thirty-four years later the makers of Grand Theft Auto apparently think it is about time to update the game for the Xbox 360. And what else can you say but,“You’ve come a long way baby.” Like all addictive games, Table Tennis takes a few minutes to learn as you control freakishly realistic characters, who even sweat as the match goes on, to make diving shots in bullet-time. A lot of people will be reluctant to come over and play and may even make fun of you for sitting inside all summer and playing video game ping-pong. So once you’ve toasted all the computer players, you can go on Xbox live and have other nerds bow before your crazy ping-pong skills.
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DVDS Eve & the Fire Horse
Masters of Horror: Homecoming
Ever wanted to see Jesus dancing with Buddha? If so, Vancouver filmmaker Julia Kwan makes your spiritually-confused fantasy a reality in Eve and the Fire Horse. Critically acclaimed by both the Sundance and the Vancouver International Film Festival, this film explores the great divide between two cultural backgrounds through the eyes of an endearingly naive nine year old girl. A precocious little philosopher, Eve envisions dancing deities while she and her family endure a smorgasbord of hard times—death, illness, abject poverty, and a visit from Jehovah’s Witnesses. When her sister embraces the saving power of Jesus, Eve takes on the simple task of reconciling her family’s traditional Buddhist beliefs with Christianity. Unfortunately for her, Religious Studies isn’t part of the grade four curriculum. While no match for the cultural tensions of 1960’s Vancouver, Eve’s innocent approach provides a refreshingly unbiased discussion of religion and cultural identity.
Politically motivated zombies; is there anything scarier? Joe Dante, director of The Howling and Gremlins thinks not. It’s the eve of the presidential election and deceased soldiers from an unjust war rise from their flag draped coffins. But this time they’re not here to eat your brains, they’re here to vote. Will the administration be able to spin the zombies’ interest in the democratic process before they vote out the current president? Let’s hope not. Shot in Vancouver, Homecoming is part of Showtime’s Masters of Horror series which is yet another great show that you never get to see because you can’t afford fancy cable packages. Luckily, this macabre little satire—that’s more delicious than a Republican’s brains—is out on DVD now, so pick it up.
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We Jam Econo The Minutemen are those lovable people who play make-believe boarder guard at the US/Mexico crossing in their spare time. They were also a seminal West Coast punk band in the 80’s whose career ended after five years when frontman D. Boon died in a car accident. Acting as our tour guide, bassist Mike Watt drives us around San Pedro in his Ford Econoline telling the story of The Minutemen. Breaking up that action are old interviews with the band, rare concert footage (including an acoustic performance on public access television which you can watch in full on the extras disc) and an insane parade of musicians all wanting to talk about how rad The Minutemen were. By the time the credits roll, the only question you’ll have about The Minutemen is why, 20 years later, Mike Watt still wears flannel.
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Ticket GiveAwayS Ben Lee & Zero 7
STORE Subdivision
Contributor Paul Borchert
Courtesy of House of Blues we’ve got tickets for Ben Lee on August 28 at Richard’s on Richards and Zero 7 on September 2 at the Commodore Ballroom. Remember when Ben Lee was a teenager and hanging out with Sonic Youth and the Beasties? He seemed like a novelty act, surely destined to fade away into obscurity after Claire Danes kicked his ass to the curb. Well a decade later he’s grown up and his single “Catch My Disease” has, ahem, infected everyone. Hailing from merry olde England we have downtempo act Zero 7. With the new album The Garden, remixing everyone on the face of the planet and the tour, for a downtempo act they should really consider chilling out. To enter to win tickets go to www.ionmagazine.ca and click on contests. If you don’t win you can pick up tickets to these fine shows at Highlife, Zulu or Ticketmaster.ca.
You know those guys you see around town looking mighty dapper in their fitted New Era baseball caps, limited edition Air Force Ones, and awesome t-shirts? Well, all of them will hate us for telling you this: Subdivision is the new boutique in Vancouver where all these people are getting their outfits. Located downstairs at 306 Water Street, Subdivision specializes in limited edition shirts, hats and sneakers. According to owner/operator Anthony Mak, “we’re trying to provide quality street and alternative style for the people while promoting street art and culture.” Most of the stuff for sale here is limited edition and will get bought up quickly. So sign up for their mailing list at www.subdivisioninc.com to hear about the latest offerings as they come in.
Paul Borchert is an Alberta based music writer and newly graduated junior high school teacher. Already a writer for Alberta’s Mote Magazine, Paul has recently started contributing to ION for the simple reason that he loves the magazine and the city of Vancouver. Fueled on black coffee and Alberta Genuine Draft Paul spends all his free time listening to, watching, and writing about music. Paul is a self professed sixties revivalist with a love of everything retro including his tunes. Currently his listening is fixated on local Edmonton bands including the garage rock duo the Vertical Struts, Shout Out Out Out Out, Michael Rault and the Mixed Signals, as well as his personal faves, the Subatomics, who he writes about in this issue of ION. Those wishing to get in touch with Paul or anyone looking for a tour guide for their next visit to Edmonton are encouraged to drop him a line at borchertpaul@hotmail.com.
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ION THE PRIZE
Photography Syx Langemann The prize this month is an assortment of men’s clothes courtesy of Live Mechanics. Founded in 2000 in California and operating under their Triple P Philosophy (passion, pain, and progress), Live Mechanics seeks to bring a fresh new look to the rapidly changing world of street wear. The end result is clothing that looks good enough wear on the runway and comfortable enough to do the New Jack Swing in a nightclub. Enter to win at www.ionmagazine.ca 22 IONMAGAZINE.CA
What’s WAldo? HATEBEAK
Words D.B. LeHouillier It seems like a lot of rock stars don’t know what they’re doing for a substantial portion of their lives (Tommy Lee), but it’s rare that the lead singer of a band is so oblivious that he’s unaware of even being in a band and unable to recognize his own music. Yet that’s the situation with the lead singer of death metal band Hatebeak. His name is Waldo. He’s really pretty. His brain is smaller than a golf ball. He’s a parrot. So, how does a parrot become a lead singer of a death metal band? Or any band for that matter? Well, on the band’s website, which is maintained by record label Reptilian Records (www.reptilianrecords.com), Waldo’s band-mates, Blake and Mark (who withhold their last names - damn celebrity!) say,“We can tell he likes death metal because he stands on one foot when he’s happy.” Yeah. Waldo apparently pulls a flamingo when he hears good quality death metal. Apparently, when Blake and Mark, both recording engineers, learned of Waldo’s love of DM, the idea for Hatebeak was (ahem) hatched.The music making process is simple. Blake and Mark make Waldo listen to music, and record the sounds he makes. On their website, they explain,“we usually record his outbursts following an extended listening period. We take the best parts and track them with the rest of the music.” This unique (and unwitting for Waldo) way of recording means that Hatebeak doesn’t do live shows. Blake and Mark point out
that subjecting Waldo’s sensitive birdie ears to live performance volume would be “cruel.” In other words, animal-lovers, stand down. As for the music itself, it does sound like death metal. Although Waldo can speak (“Brack! Waldo want to rage against the establishment!”), Blake and Mark don’t put any words (or cute little tweets) in their tracks, relying instead on avian grunts and shrieks, which is sort of what human death metal singers are going for anyway. It seems to be working. The band’s previous two releases both sold out. Each comprised one side of a record. Beak of Putrefaction was released in 2004 with the human-only (read: speciesist) Longmont Potion Castle on the B-side. In 2005, the band followed that up with Bird Seeds of Vengeance, featuring Caninus - a dog-fronted metal band - on the B-side. Their next effort, Avian Supremacy, is due out later this year. Although you may have difficulty tracking down a Hatebeak album, some music is available online. Just be careful. There’s no word on whether Blake and Mark object to file-sharing, though Waldo’s unlikely to object. After all, as noted on the band webpage,“He’s more of an artist than a business parrot.” Are Blake and Mark exploiting Waldo? Does it matter? Regardless, a couple of guys from Maryland who record a handful of tracks per year are attracting coast-to-coast attention with their gimmick. They may even be starting a trend. Start training your guppies.
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Bums Are Boring Nude Photography Is Passe
Words Sarah Hutchinson Photography Trish Connolly Bums are boring. Unless they’re embroiled in a sort of cock fight for cash that is, but I digress. We’re not talking about that kind of bum. These days, if you were flipping through a magazine and came across an ad that showed a naked ass, you’d probably continue flipping, unfazed. I once chose a magazine at random and found the usual ads for cars, creams and watches - all very different products – except in this weird magazine, all the models were nude. Some were simulated-nude, or nearly-nude, but still. (And no, it wasn’t Playboy.) I didn’t like it. I’m not a prude or anything. It was just so boring. It may be clichéd to say we’ve seen it all, but haven’t we? Gone are the days when showing a little boobage or butt cheek was considered risqué. Hustler magazine hit stands in the early 1970’s. Mainstream media has co-opted the nude form to hock their diamonds and dermatologist-approved lotions. All this constant overexposure to the formerly shocking has desensitized us, and artistic nudes, once considered both innovative and beautiful, are suffering as a result. In a world full of visual communication, we tend to ignore what doesn’t stand out. And let’s face it, nude photography doesn’t stand out. It may have been relevant and meaningful at one time, but these days… need I say more? Visit a local ‘junior miss’ type store in any urban mall and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Ten year olds are dressing in the sorts of clothes formerly favoured by $2 whores. I think it’s safe to say that when it comes to skin, our cultural standards of acceptance have changed. Art, on the other hand, is supposed to be about pushing boundaries and breaking cultural rules. Nude photography might have filled that role once upon a time, forcing people out of their complacent, passive viewing roles, but it doesn’t any more. Now it’s used mostly to sell stuff. Lance Blomgren, co-director/curator of the Helen Pitt Gallery in Vancouver, seems to agree. He says he’s found that “generally… nude photography seems
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to satisfy a commercial audience, fitting historically with photography’s tendency towards documentary practice, fashion photography, pinups and advertising. Much of this might be hard to define as art photography at all, based on ideas raised throughout the art history/theory of the past century or so.” Okay. So it sounds like he’s trying to say that most nudie photos aren’t really art at all. With that in mind, I gotta ask - why are people still trying? Let me paint a picture for you: I’m surfing along on Flickr, sifting through an abundance of so-called artistic nudes in the hopes of figuring this all out. One page catches my eye. Looking around the dimly lit room in the shot I can see what look like darkly stained, faux-Persian carpets, furniture that could once have been described as plush, and a young woman making fuck-me eyes at the camera. In the next shot she’s flipped upside down, her skirt falling around her stomach, with parted legs hanging over the back of the couch. I can’t help but wonder who this girl is. Does she really think she’s helping to create art? It’s possible. It’s just not really working. “Nude photography… has taken the documentary legacy of photography in a highly self-conscious eroticized direction,” says Blomgren. In other words, the more people try to imitate the once-cool nude photo, the weaker they get. It’s like when you tried too hard to make the other sixth graders like you by getting that NKOTB t-shirt one month too late. (Or maybe that was just me. Either way… lame.) But none of this really answers my question. Why shoot nudes? Why bother, when we know that society is bored with them? Is it because new artists are trying to latch on to some
sort of false legitimacy? Is it a tired attempt to be classic? If it is, it’s not working very well. The gallery experts I spoke to aren’t buying it. Blomgren says the few collections received by the Helen Pitt Gallery that include nude photography work are unsolicited and have not been shown. He feels “much nude photography is not very interesting or challenging and even the nude work of well-established artists seem now to be quite predictable. As a curator I am not opposed to nude work, I just haven’t seen much contemporary work that engages my imagination.” Alex Grewal of the Access Artist-Run Gallery, also in Vancouver, says that they also don’t receive many nudesonly submissions. And the ones they do receive, they don’t display. This is not to say they don’t show nudity. They have shown paintings (the exhibit Repose by Robert Gelineau had male nudes, shown in 1999) as well as sculptures (Body Politics by Kelly Phillips featured cast penises and phallic sculptures), but no photos. Like Blomgren, Grewal believes much of the experimentation that could take place with nudes happened a lot earlier on in the creative scene, and he doesn’t think much more can be done. He also thinks “photographing nudes is passé.” So what now? Alas, there’s not much anyone can do. It may sound trite, but there will always be lazy “artists” in the world. There will always be pervs. And there will always be naive models eager to strip down and pout. Artistically.
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THe Rebirth Of Vintage preloved
Words Tara Conley Photography Andre Princes Most shoppers agree that when buying vintage you usually need to alter the item so it looks like it came off the runway, and not out of Grandma’s closet. Julia Grieve, founder of Preloved, made this concept the driving force behind her business venture, creating new designs from previously loved clothing. By revamping vintage, Julia and her team make the ordinary extraordinary. Julia got the idea to re-create vintage clothing after working as an international fashion model for over a decade. She found herself constantly struggling to find clothing to wear that would impress clients without having to spend money she didn’t have. So she started reconstructing vintage clothing to make unique pieces that looked like high-end garments. After finally getting tired of the jet setting lifestyle, Julia was ready to make her part-time hobby a full-time career. Her modeling past equipped her with the ability to understand how garments should fit, and also gave her a knack for sourcing out hot trends. Eleven years ago Julia opened up her flagship store in Toronto, and since then has opened stores in Montreal and Vancouver. With the help of designer Peter Friesen, the company re-produces 1500-2000 original pieces a week, and offers the benefit of one of a kind items that are completely affordable with pieces ranging from $29- $300. This colorful, flirty, diverse collection includes trench coats reborn as dresses, retro sweatshirts converted to evening wear, pencil skirts crafted from 20 denim waistbands, and bed sheets transformed into stylish jackets. Usually to find something really different you have to drop a fair bit of coin, however at Preloved you can find the couture look at the Zara price. Her three in house lines—Preloved, Handcut, and B Loved—are all equally fabulous, and truly distinctive. So next time you want an innovative designer piece without the hefty price tag, go to Preloved. Toronto 613 Queen Street West (416) 504 8704 Montreal 4832 boul. St-Laurent (514) 499 9898 Vancouver 1015 Granville (604) 408 5252
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(fionagardenphotography.com)
Styling Gerry Centanni Assistant Tanya Topolniski Hair & Make-up Jon Hennessey and Sonia Leal-Serafim for THEYrep.com Models Melita, Zarah & Jason – Richards International Model Management (richardsmodels.com), Kelsea and Danielle – Lizbell Agency (lizbellagency.com), Dustin – Jett Models (jettmodels.com)
Jason Pants: Gsus Pink Tee: Morphine Generation Top: Morphine Generation Boots: Dayton
Melita Top: Debbie Shuchat All Jewelry: Frug- available at Over The Rainbow (Toronto) or Mintage (Vancouver) and various retailers across the country
Zarah Knit Dress: Gsus Hat: Solei@Twigg & Hottie Shoes: Gravity Pope
Danielle Sweater: Kenzie Girl Jeans: Odyn Shoes: Gravity Pope
Dustin Pants: Gsus Shirt: Gsus T-Shirts: Made U Look Shoes: Gravity Pope Kelsea Shorts: Kenzie Girl T-Shirt: Made U Look Sweater: Kenzie Girl Frye Boots: Gravity Pope
Photography by Roger Allen (www.rager1.com)
Smell that? That’s the hair on your knuckles being burned off by the lightning force of The Jolts rock and roll attack. There’s no safe haven when Joey Blitzkrieg, Dylan Danger, Lector Kurrentz and GT Flare hit the stage, ‘cuz sparks will fly guaranteed! Their debut EP Jinx is an 11-minute barrage of riff-laden majesty
that recalls heavy hitters Turbonegro or Electric Frankenstein in their prime. And for the non-believers, you’ll be seeing them soon in a back alley bar near you busting out their blazing tunes to all within reach—just don’t get too close. Safety gear recommended! myspace.com/thejolts
SONIC YOUTHs THE SUBATOMICS
Words Paul Borchert Photography Kelsey Huget Music writers are notorious for having dozens of bands that they claim to be their favourites according to whatever mood they are in. After discovering a band of Edmonton teenagers less than a year ago, I am proud to say that they are my one-andonly favourite band. The group are relatively new to the music scene, but have already established themselves as a force to be reckoned with. The trio goes by the moniker The Subatomics, and are perhaps the most energetic, raw sounding band to grace my ears in decades. Despite still being in high school, the trio have taken over the Edmonton music scene in whirlwind fashion with their 60’s garage inspired rock ‘n’ roll sound and vicious stage antics, which include pogoing vintage Japanese guitars and jumping on drum kits. The Subatomics recently celebrated their first birthday and are already garnering attention from some of Edmonton’s most respected bands, 38 IONMAGAZINE.CA
including Whitey Huston and the trash rock duo the Vertical Struts, who made a statement saying The Subatomics “will bury us all.” The band is comprised of front-man Rene Wilson, lead guitarist Travis Bretzer, and new addition Peter Sagar on drums. Both Wilson and Bretzer are 16 years old while Sagar recently celebrated his 18th birthday, making him the only member of the band who is actually able to get into the bars they play in on a regular basis. Despite all three members of the band being under 20, they have already proven themselves worthy of sharing the stage with the cream of the crop of garage rock. In their first year as a band, the boys have already played with the Black Lips, the Dirtbombs (twice), and the Detroit Cobras who fell in love with them after hearing a show. During a recent performance in Edmonton, the Cobra’s guitarist approached the microphone after the set and proclaimed The Subatomics the “future of Rock and Roll.” Quite the honor coming from a band who has dominated the Detroit rock scene for nearly a decade. Over the course of a year the band has won over their hometown and have plans to take their music beyond the prairies. As soon as they finish high school, that is. After getting offers from a number of big names in the underground music industry–including garage rock pioneers Alive Records—The Subatomics have finally decided to pursue a 7-inch vinyl recording which will be available on Montreal’s Zaxxon Records this fall. Wilson says that the band decided to join forces with Zaxxon simply due to the fact they have released great music in the past, including one of Wilson’s personal faves, the Blacks. When asked why The Subatomics stick out from the rest of today’s young bands, Wilson suggests it is simply because they are “cute.” After watching The Subatomics perform nearly a dozen times in the last couple months, it is clear people in the audience who have never witnessed a Subatomics show before are leery of a novelty act simply due to the bands youth. Wilson comments that “I don’t know what people think of us before we play. Anyone who’s not blind should clearly see that we’re pretty young and seeing as most bands involving youth these days are on a strict diet of post hardcore shit, I don’t blame anyone who thinks we’re going to suck.” By the time the shows are finished, the band is swarmed by people wanting to congratulate them while others simply stand around and try to
understand how 16 year olds can play such wonderfully obscure songs. The group’s repertoire often includes covers of the Gories and Motorhead’s “Ace of Spades,” which the group played for the first time at one gig without any rehearsal when an audience member called for them to play it. To this day, the band plays the song when requested, without having rehearsed it. “Peter does not know the song, so its quite amusing watching him try and play it,” said charming young Rene. Today when the term punk is used to describe a band it is usually in reference to some poppy, Blink 182 cover band. But The Subatomics are the real deal, with musical chops reminiscent of the Sonics and confidence on stage that would give Iggy Pop a run for his money. From the moment the boys take the stage, it is clear that they are doing their own thing on their own terms. At a recent charity event in support of diabetes, The Subatomics played a short set to a crowd that was less than open to their loud music and outlandish stage antics. After the first song, audience members were observed fleeing the building with their fingers plugging their ears. With screeching feedback between songs, one member of the crowd yelled out for the band to “turn down” their amps to which Wilson replied, “I bought this amp and it only sounds good loud, so I am going to play it loud.” The group finished off their set in a fury that fans of The Subatomics have come to know and love that included smashing of a pint glass full of water, breaking a maraca and flailing on the ground while touching their guitar strings to their tongues. With their first album on the horizon, The Subatomics have already become a gem in the Edmonton music scene and perhaps will move onto bigger and better things. When asked where they think they will be in five years, the group responds “The most hated, band in Edmonton. We got at least one more year of school, so touring is out of the question for a while. By that time Edmonton will have had too much of a good thing and we will be ready to leave town. But some say there is no such thing as too much of a good thing, so perhaps we’ll be the most loved.” Regardless of what the future holds, Rene, Travis, and Peter are making some of the most outstanding music I have ever heard to date. Make sure to keep your eyes peeled for their upcoming release on Zaxxon to be made available sometime this fall.
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HAnging on A Telephone Wire Liars
Words Luke Meat It isn’t easy being Liars. But it is an apt name for the Brooklyn-based trio, considering that listeners never know what they’re going to get with every release the band puts out. Always evolving, always confrontational, Liars remain one of the most interesting, albeit challenging, groups in music today. Their 2002 debut, They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top, rocked hipster dance floors with its unique hybrid of jerky dancepunk, save for the albums differently toned final track, “This Dust Makes That Mud.” A half-hour long opus and former staple of their live sets that is built around a 4-bar loop. “We used to play that all the time,” says front man Angus Andrew.“We would start our shows out with that and try and see how long we could play it for, y’know, like really testing the patience of the audience.” Patience testing or not, their first major North American tour was the opening slot for Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. “That tour was really cool, because we got to play in places like Albuquerque, New Mexico for more than three people!” laughs Andrew.“We were definitely different from what the usual JSBX crowd was expecting, but it went over pretty good. The only bad show I think we had was in Vancouver, because I couldn’t find
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any pot.” Couldn’t find pot in Vancouver? Rookie. So what’s a band to do after a critically acclaimed debut and successful first tour? How about alienate their audience completely by releasing an album entirely based on Walpurgisnacht, the date in German folklore when witches fly to Brocken Mountain and perform rituals to mark spring’s victory over winter? That’s exactly what the band did on their sophomore release, They Were Wrong, So We Drowned, a rhythmic, terrifying, and, at times, unearthily beautiful album. Did the band feel like they were taking a gamble releasing such a difficult follow-up? “Oh certainly!” Angus exclaims. “I mean, that’s what we were intending to do, like smash everything that we had achieved up to that point. We were uncomfortable with any kind of recognition that we were getting as a group because we had only made one record that we really didn’t think that much of. All of a sudden we’re opening for Sonic Youth—every kid’s dream—and we felt like it was completely fake, like we weren’t worthy and we hadn’t earned the right yet. So we felt that we had to go away and come back with a product that reflected more of what we think and believe in.” Dividing their fans and critics alike, Liars have taken another step into the foray of the bizarre with their most recent release, Drum’s Not Dead. The album focuses on two main characters, Drum and Mt. Heart Attack, and the conflicting sound between these two “people.” It also contains an accompanying DVD featuring the entire album three times over with varying visuals, including an entire segment directed by Angus Andrew himself. Although on paper
the album could come across like a new release by label-mates The Residents, with whom Andrew feels an affinity, he insists that Drum’s Not Dead is not a so-called “concept album.” “We were kind of worried about it being labeled a concept record because we had the gall and tenacity to give the song titles similar themes, which I think really screwed us up in the end because it gave the appearance of being very conceptual when in reality the songs didn’t have that much to do with each other. My definition of a concept album is something more like a Britney Spears record or something. I think she has a whole team of people coming up with the look, the sound, the style—and they really stick to that conceptual marketing. I guess I worry that the term gets thrown around too loosely and once in a while we have to catch it.” Throughout all of Liars’ experimentation there is one musical constant they agree on: hip-hop. Their website offers links to EPMD’s, Public Enemy’s and Missy Elliot’s homepages. “That’s how we started,” states Andrew. “We were always into the reputation of hip-hop, that’s one of the first reasons I moved to New York from Australia. All I was getting back home was C & C Music Factory!” he laughs.“The band has made this statement to each other before which is: we can be happy just listening to Biggie Smalls and Led Zeppelin, but that’s pretty much it.” Whether the next release by Liars will be a hybrid of dead rapper and 70’s cock-rock is anybody’s guess, but one fact is certain, it will not be boring.
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No Damning THe Man Man
Words Natalie Vermeer It’s hard to come up with anything besides “shityour-mind fantastic” when trying to describe Man Man. For those crazies unimpressed by the Captain Beefheart, Frank Zappa and Tom Waits comparisons, show attendance is mandatory. If, during the show, you aren’t suffering from whiplash from rocking out and screaming behind you “did you just see that/hear that?” and psyche-ward grinning like you just won the bestdayever lottery, then you’ll probably just have to go back home to lie down and
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listen to your Death Cab again. Man Man comes at us from Philadelphia and I met up with singer/piano player Honus Honus at their recent Neumo’s show in Seattle. Yes, yes, Man Man’s lead singer is Honus Honus. “Honestly, I put about as much thought into it as I put into the band name,” he says. “I [tried] to think of a pretty stupid pseudonym and Honus Honus came up.” And the other (multi-instrumentalist) band members? “I’m really bad at remembering peoples’ names,” he explains. “So… Cougar likes John Cougar Mellencamp, he kind of looks like Michael Landon, he lives in the Poconos and comes from a family of fur trappers. He kind of has a bobcat look to him so that’s where [his] name came from! Uh, Sergei Sogay is like Russian and he has the huge Russian beard and just totally looks Russian so that’s where that came from. And it’s kind of a play on Man Man– Sergei is so gay. Pow Pow had the name from before [in] Need New Body… Chang Wang, that’s just Billy. Billy, on the first album was called Chang Wang. On this new record, he’s called San Dañon Pisto.” A major attraction to Man Man is the precise madness which occurs in each song by way of saxophones, drums, keyboards, guitars, thigh tattoos, clarinets, science, spoons, chicken rattles and so much more. But then there are the lyrics that anyone can identify with, like: “I wanna pee inside of your mouth duck duck duck duck duck man hoof hand” (from “White Rice/Brown Heart”). Or, “Only time will tell if I’ll allow the scenery around to eat me alive. I wanna sleep for weeks like a dog at her
feet even though I know it won’t work out in the long run” (“Van Helsing Boombox”). There is no pretension or aloofness at a Man Man show. Everyone gives’r.“I sing from my gut and I just kind of go for it,” says Honus, “because I’ve seen too many shows where you can’t hear what the people are saying anyway so you might as well have the visceral side of it. Unfortunately, there’s a lot of photographs people take that’s just me doing the most terrifying push faces… Whenever I’m surfing the web or someone emails us photographs, I’m just like ‘Aw man! I don’t want to see myself making scary face!’” Another bonus about Honus, er, Man Man, is they are not an encore kind of band. In theory, anyways. “You know what?” he offers.“We absolutely hate encores! What’s amazing is that 99% of people don’t hate encores so it gets really tough because we’ve learned that when we play an hour long set, it’s just too exhausting. It’s exhausting for us; it’s exhausting for the audience. It’s a sensory overload! And when we play like a 40 minute set, people get kind of irritated because they want more so then we feel like we have to play a couple more songs. You can’t win! I think it’s great that people want us to play; it’s nice, we’re on the other side of the coin now. Before, people just wanted us to fuck off the stage. That’s kind of how we came up with our format of blowing through our set ‘cause when you’re the first band on a four-band bill, you just gotta make your statement and get off! So, I don’t like encores, but we have been doing them because people get really annoyed. But personally, bands that I love, I want to
Photo Natalie Vermeer see them play 45 minutes. I don’t know how people go see Bruce Springsteen for three hours. There is no one I want to see for three hours! I just don’t have the patience but I guess I could see Tom Waits play for a couple hours but I don’t think I could watch him play for three hours. Maybe an hour and 20 minutes.” It seems Man Man, exhausting or not, could be a band many would want to see for three hours. “The other night, in Denver, I had a kid tell me that he felt he had seen Beefheart,” Honus recalls. “And we played in Virginia, a festival, and this professor came up and embraced me and gave me a big man hug, yeah a man man hug, and he told me that he had the chance but didn’t actually ever get to see Beefheart play and he felt like he had
seen Beefheart play. I don’t know what to say to that ‘cause obviously, I feel bad ‘cause these are seminal, amazing musicians and we’re like just mowing their lawns. We’re not even on the same page as them right now. We only have a couple records under our belt…” And perhaps those couple of records are making the band famous? “My roommate is hooked on The O.C. so when my brother was in town visiting from New Orleans, he sat down and I think I was sick,” recalls Honus. “We just watched episodes of The O.C. And I watched maybe three episodes and one of the episodes was where I guess the cool kid loses his virginity and there’s a line in there which is pretty amazing. He was like, ‘Something amazing happened to me. You won’t guess what it is. I’m a
man now. Not just a bar mitzvah kind of man – a MAN man.’ And the way he said ‘man man’, it didn’t sound like ‘I’m a man’s man’; it sounded like he was name-dropping! Clearly not. But I almost lost my shit. It’s like John Legend at the Grammys when he thanks ‘Man Man’. It must just be one of his boys but it’s like he clearly says ‘Man Man’ and it’s totally bizarre. That’s on our MySpace page.” myspace.com/wearemanman
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POSTER ART CODY FENNELL
Cody Fennell is proof positive you don’t need to be able to draw straight lines or colour inside them to make a good-looking poster. Careful though, when you see his posters decorating any given telephone pole in Vancouver, much like a moth to a flame, you will be compelled by an uncontrollable urge to move in for a closer inspection. If you don’t stop before you get too close, you might bang your head. You’ve been warned; so don’t complain if you get a concussion. www.codyfennell.com
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Like a modern day Patti Smith, Fisher’s lyrics are poetic by nature and will be especially enticing for fans of Leonard Cohen and Tom Waits. 4/5 Paul Borchert
DJ Format FabricLive 27 Fabric/Fusion III Judging from the sound of his production efforts, Southampton crate digger Matt Ford should be making crazy mixtapes like most people breathe. Performing as his alter ego DJ Format, this is again proven invariably true. Ford cuts together a flawless compilation of likeminded funk/R&B/hip-hop from across time and the world, from Tru Thoughts contemporary Nostalgia ’77 and the Ninja Tune founding Coldcut, to soul-jazz legend Jimmy Smith, Nina Simone, and a rousing Ella Fitzgerald cover of Cream’s “Sunshine Of Your Love.” In front of a live Fabric audience, Format portrays a richly illustrated living picture of the influences that brought him to where he is today, as well as the contemporaries who went there with him. 4/5 Filmore Mescalito Holmes
First Nation S/T Paw Tracks
ALBUM REVIEWS
Frank Black Fast Man Raider Man Back Porch Frank Black’s prolific album output is slowly creeping up on matching that of congruent 90’s indie patriarch, Robert Pollard. Of course, eventually Black had to ease his way into grabbing for the bombastic golden ring of a double album. All critics and listeners alike have the same approach to the double album, and the unnecessary amount of included material. Fast Man Raider Man is no different. Frank’s turn from perfect, upbeat, pop songs (see: 1994’s Teenager of The Year) to old tyme rock and roll with down home soul, has not kept his early fans enticed. Slinking in with an ominous foot shuffle, the first disc’s opener “If Your Poison Gets You,” spreads shoulder-swagger hope to the listener, but by the end of the disc I considered the entertaining prospect of filling out my 2006 census instead. Giving The Fat Man a
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chance, one will be rewarded with the second disc’s kick off track, “In The Time Of My Ruin.” Walking bass, shimmy tambourine, stomp drums, dripping piano, in an aural parcel straight from Carolina. Although, like the first half, the rest of the record does not achieve anything more than a slow listen with little point of interest or feeling. 2.5/5 Trevor Risk
DarkBlueWorld S/T Drip Audio For those in the know, Vancouver’s DarkBlueWorld are a band who need no introduction. The local band’s latest self-titled release is an eclectic composition of 11 tracks that are melodic and très artistic. The band creates utterly astonishing musical arrangements that are accompanied by the sultry yet androgynous voice of legendary Vancouver alternative songstress Elizabeth Fischer. The album commences with “Warm Coat,” a track that makes use of straining guitar notes and operatic vocals that set the stage for the rest of the album with a sinister, eerie tone. “Church of the Blind” offers listeners a different cup of tea with a country sound featuring slide guitar. It is clear after a single listen that each member of the band is a talented musician in their own right. When the four instrumentalists and lone vocalist combine they design music that is creative and intelligent.
In the slew of new releases on the Paw Tracks label, the all-female First Nation stands apart for the band’s dedication to amateur style and off-kilter lo-fi-ness that is as pleasing as it is unlaboured. The CD of this recording features 11 tracks, all of which can be downloaded off the internet quite readily at the moment. The songs fit with my expectations of the band after I saw them live in Vancouver when they opened for their labelmates The Animal Collective which didn’t do justice to their quirky compositions. On this recording too, I wish I could hear the details more than the sound quality allows. Lo-fi recording as a technique deserves its own special consideration in the scheme of things, but this recording of First Nation does not advance anything too groundbreaking in that regard. My love of the off-harmonies that adorn these tracks falls apart when I consider how difficult it is to listen to it start to finish and not notice the flat mixing. Standout songs like “Female Trance” rise above the sound issues and give my ears a cool kick in the ass. The way in which their music is arranged is of interest as well, and there is a psychedelic marpole effect that satisfies my jaded tastes. In the end, as the feminine counterparts to the boys in Animal Collective, First Nation with their debut CD achieve equal footing as legitimate pop experimenters. 3/5 Arthur Krumins
Gigi Gold & Wax Palm Pictures Ejigayehu Shibabaw, the Ethiopian raised singer who records as Gigi, is a beautiful woman with an equally striking voice. At the behest and obvious wisdom of her label, she was paired with über collaborative bassist Bill Laswell. For Gold & Wax, his hundred and whatever-eth guest appearance of the year, Laswell pooled the talents of a dozen or so artists from all manner of genre—from Karsh Kale to P-Funk keyboardist Bernie Worrell to former Gn’R avant-guitarist Buckethead—to compliment her strong delivery of indecipherable lyrics. Though occasionally hinting of fromage, the result is a truly worldly world music album that should be accessible to pretty much anyone with ears. 3.5/5 Filmore Mescalito Holmes
Indian Jewelry Invasive Exotics Monitor With what seems like a vast collective of musicians contributing to the mystery that is Indian Jewelry, it is probably best to make a quick reference to the band’s previous name Swarm Of Angels or Turquoise Diamonds, or Corpses of Waco, or Perpetual War Party Band, who all join together in what seems to be a mass of swirling synth-guitar noise destruction. How many fucking names does one band need really? But on a more serious note, these boys and girls really know how to make creepy lo-fi music with every possible instrument they can get a hold of. It isn’t uncommon to see them play live in full leather outfits, or naked except for plastic wrap, only adding to the mystery of this collective. Band websites lead no where, and information seems to be very limited, but don’t be fooled, Indian Jewelry will make you dance, make you cower, and make you love. 4/5 Chris Walters
Junior Boys So this is Goodbye Domino This will be my second review for an album by the Ontario dance pop team of Junior Boys, and I said it once I will say it again... this band is the perfect music for naked pillow fights and intimate sleepovers. You may all be familiar with their previous album, Last Exit, which debuted quietly to critical acclaim that lead them all over the continent with fellow Canadians Caribou (formerly Manitoba),
and Russian Futurists. Junior Boys were also one of those bands that garnered fairly notable success because of the Internet. Bands like Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Art Brut, Tapes n’ Tapes and many others gain huge success without even having a label backing them in the beginning. So, how are the Junior Boys this time around? The simple answer is: just as good. Still making music that I want to “get intimate” to. Swirls of vintage synths ebb back and forth to crisp beats as vocalist Jeremy Greenspan weaves chilling reverbed lyrics. Junior Boys are back and they are ready to be put on your stereo fairly loud as you approach the right moment for some beautiful sexing. 4/5 Chris Walters
Keane Under the Iron Sea Interscope Seriously? No, SERIOUSLY? Oh wait, you are serious. When Keane frontman(ish) Tom Chaplin sings “I’d like to bring a little light, to shine a light on your life, to make you feel loved” I blushed with heavy embarrassment. This record is the sonic equivalent to the visualizations that come with Windows Media Player. It probably appeals to cats, infants, and the troglodytical fairweathers who have never heard of Coldplay, Elbow, Longwave, Doves, Travis, and (dare I say it?) Radiohead. It’s really no surprise that Keane were an Oasis/U2 cover band until only a few years ago. With what can only be described as uninspired caterwauling, Under The Iron Sea is a fit reminder that genres and records from the 90’s have left us with over a decade of trickle down intrusions of the pop variety. If this were an SAT question, it would go something like this: “Nevermind is to Chocolate Starfish and the Hotdog Flavored Water as Pablo Honey is to this CD/coaster.” If Pegasus were to glide down from above, smile on me, and hand me this record I would still make that wanking motion that Beetlejuice makes to Alec Baldwin. 0/5 Trevor Risk
have to say she’s got a very nice voice but perhaps one not quite strong enough to carry an entire album. As much as I respect her appearance on the pro-freedom compilation Spirit Of ’73: Rock For Choice, her lyrics here tend to lack any real moral or emotional punch. None of this adds up to a really strong “solo” debut, but I said she has a nice voice so I’ll probably chalk this album up as a learning experience for her, for now. 2.5/5 Filmore Mescalito Holmes
The Rakes Capture/Release V2 Here’s another in a long [and getting longer all the time] line of UK post-punk pop bands. What sets them apart from their Franz Ferdinand contemporaries? Not a whole lot. This London quartet writes catchy middle-class, Telus ad, dance-rock for the trendy middle class Telus ad watchers among us. The lyrics remain focussed on the big city doldrums surrounding unappreciative and underpaid work, clubbing, and depressing headlines; all of which seems a bit trite compared to the shit real poor people have to deal with. The guitar effect on “T Bone” is by far the most interesting musical aspect of Capture/Release, while pretty much everything else has been done before and better. The Rakes aren’t going to change the world—I’m not sure they even want to—but students everywhere have their new favourite band. 2.5/5 Filmore Mescalito Holmes
Lisa Papineau Night Moves LunaticWorks/ Sony BMG Like Sia is to Zero 7, so is Lisa Papineau to AIR, M83, P.O.D, and many more. She gets around. But, in the face of such notable collaborations and projects, the question remains: how does the American vocalist in Paris measure up when she’s the name on the marquee instead of a mere invitee? Set against a minimal chill backdrop adequately provided by a panel of local Frenchmen, I
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TALES OF ORDINARY MADNESS Words Sam Kerr Photography Jason Lang
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Last night I had a very strange dream. In it, I’m sitting in the studio audience at some American daytime TV talk show. Surrounding me on all sides are various types of social rejects, all barking unintelligible profanity at the people on stage. I raise my eyes to meet today’s guests and am unpleasantly surprised to find a morbidly obese woman, completely naked and perched gingerly on a chair that seems ready to collapse at any moment under the weight of her massive frame. Resting on her pillowy stomach are two impossibly overweight newborn children, both suckling away at mother’s naked teats. My friend Ramone appears at the corner of the stage, dressed in a sharp suit and carrying a microphone. Evidently, he is the host of this theatre of the absurd. He raises a hand to calm the crowd, which has worked itself into a whirlwind of judgment and anticipation. Out of the blue an audience member throws an uncooked steak at the immense woman on stage and effortlessly she catches the porterhouse in her mouth like a golden lab pulling a Frisbee out of mid air at the park. Unimpressed, Ramone raises his voice and exclaims, “Let’s bring out the father!” So who is it? What type of man could be the coconspirator to such an abomination of human existence? Who waits behind that curtain? None other than the Hamburglar. When the obese invade the sanctity of your subconscious there is a problem. I am a smoker, and I fully recognize the perils of my guilty pleasure. Cigarettes are not healthy; in fact they are the number one cause of preventable death in Canada. Accordingly, the government taxes cigarettes heavily. As a smoker I recognize that I have a social responsibility to alleviate the economic burden on our public health care system. In effect, when I buy a pack of smokes I am paying for the cost of medical procedures that I will inevitably require when I am 50. Furthermore, the less affordable cigarettes are, the less likely people are to smoke them, which invariably leads to a healthier society. It’s a very simple and effective method of dealing with a serious social problem. Obese people, on the other hand, get a free pass. These gluttonous masses of excess flesh fire back Big Macs at rock bottom prices, yet when their arteries clog it’s you and me that get stuck with the bill. Obesity is the number two cause of preventable death in this country, and the government is doing next to nothing about it. In 2004, 23% of adult Canadians had a BMI (body mass index) that would classify them as obese, and the problem is getting worse. It is about time that we did something about the gluttony. I propose a tax on food that is prepared quickly with low nutritional value. Hopefully it will prevent people from eating poorly, but if not, those who continue to eat shit sandwiches can pay for their life of excess the way that smokers do. Detractors of ideas like this tend to harp on about consumer responsibility, and that the government should not dictate what the public sphere should or should not want. But McDonald’s targets children. Their spokesperson is a fucking clown and they give away toys with their meals. Kids don’t understand consumer responsibility. Kids are stupid. As you may have already imagined, a soulless dirt merchant such as myself has a selfish reason behind this line of thinking. Admittedly, I am a philanderer and it occurs to me that there are countless hot babes out there hiding under 25 pounds of excess flab. It may be too late for them but what about the children of tomorrow? Do you want your son to bring home some fat mess of a woman for dinner? Of course not. She is going to hog all the gravy.
HOROSCOPES
Words Ernold Sane
‘‘ You’re a scumbag and need to be kicked in the face like Dakota
Fanning. You’ve definitely out-whored yourself over the past six months to the point where your crabs have spread across town, regrouped and are now inbreeding successfully. By the way, that sexy dance you do looks like you’re squeezing one out.
’’
-LEO July 23-Aug 22 Virgo
Aug 23-Sept 23
You’re sad, depressed and just as disappointed as I am that K-Fed hasn’t let his album “drop” yet. As much as you hate him, you and K-Fed have a lot in common. You both have skidmarks in your grundies, you’re both attracted to lard eaters, and everything that you own can be found in the discount section of Wal-Mart.
Libra
Sept 24-Oct 23
You have a mouth full of plaque that smells like a toilet in the dysentery ward. However, your beard works well as a taste saver and it hides the pimples that are exploding all over your bacteria-ridden face. During the summer meteor showers, most of the meteorites will be distinguished, not by the atmosphere, but from the smell that is coming from your nutsack.
Scorpio
Oct 24-Nov 22
It’s interesting that you only claim to be passionate about life when the World Cup comes around. As much as you claim you love your country, your country is embarrassed that you wear multi-colored flag shirts and howl when someone you don’t know kicked a ball into a net. You don’t even know who won the last Cup so drop
the act and go back to fat camp.
Sagittarius Nov 23-Dec 21 You’ve been dressing the same way for over a year and it seems as if you have only one outfit (like Johnny Depp). You seem to think it’s okay to walk around with your shirt off but your man-boobs are disturbing, you look like a stuffed sausage, and the world would rather stab blood-soaked pubic tweezers in their eyes than look at your skin garbage.
Capricorn Dec 22-Jan 20 Your explosive diarrhea is more powerful than R. Kelly in a tickle fight. This month will prove to be very embarrassing, not because you hang out with the ugliest hairdressers in town, but because you shit yourself in yoga class on the one day you wore sweatpants without the elastic. My advice is to start acting punk rock. All good rockers shit themselves.
AQUARIUS
Jan 21-Feb 19
Midway through the month you’ll try and hold a BBQ but only one of your ‘Internet’ friends will show up. Their disappointment will be stronger than yours because you pose to be more popular than God will allow you. This will conclude with you rubbing uglies
with your one ‘Internet’ friend—who happens to be your smelliest ‘Internet’ friend. Take solace in the fact that it’s better than bestiality.
PISCES
Feb 20-March 20
Sleeping with your boss has diminished the last of your values which are similar to that of an ashtray. By the end of summer your boss will be onto someone new and you’ll be looking for a job to pay for your genital warts and the Nelly Furtado CD you’ve been saving for. You need to start whoring yourself professionally, so call your mother and ask for some advice.
ARIES
March 21-April 20
You’ve been having a good summer and have seen a lot of sun. So much so that you look like week-old dog turd. All of your invites for people to join you for ‘Vodka slurpies’ have been going unanswered and you’re constantly sitting on the beach alone. This is a good time to reflect on how your MySpace account is never gonna make you the hero you think you are. Watch Adaptation and cry yourself to sleep.
Taurus
April 21-May 21
The Lunar Nodes have recently moved out of Aries and Libra and into Pisces
and Virgo. This shifted your ability to keep people’s interest when you open your mouth. It’s like brain-rape every time you open your Cheeto-stained ass muncher. You’re like the waitress that never leaves you alone or the doctor that feels you up and thinks you like it. Join NA, where people are forced to listen and get those druggies back on the street.
Gemini
May 22-June 21
You haven’t traveled much and your 19-year-old friends have clued in to the fact that you’re just a sad pile of sweaty skin that for some reason likes to take pictures of yourself. Oh the memories you’ll have when you look back at 10,000 pictures of your arm and forehead. A better discharge can be found in your girlfriend’s underwear.
Cancer
June 22-July 22
Your disgusting neckscarf is definitely helping you look like a foreskin a.k.a pedophile and you really need to find people your own age to cling onto. You’re a groupie’s groupie and you remind the world daily. The party is always where you ain’t and you’re an embarrassment to men, neckscarves, groupies and foreskins.
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