Video Of The Week: Allan Lento

Allan Lento's a cool guy, a contemporary legend among a circle of like-minded Montréal singer-songwriters, and the bridge between many eclectic music scenes in town. Everybody loves him, because while he's talented and diverse (he has written over 300 songs he can play live, he's done spoken-word shows, some almost-theater performance pieces, and has a wicked sense of humour), he's also affable and comes up with these great ideas for shows and projects that would include a lot of other participants.

More often than not, he's all about making other people happy.

This song, Crazy On The Beach, is very different-sounding from most of his catalogue, yet it fits so well in it because of its surrealist lyrics and overall vibe; the reason why I'm choosing this video as Video Of The Week - apart from its superb images of Jamaica - is because, for once, it seems about making Allan Lento happy, rather than everyone else around him. It's a nice 180-degree turn. And he looks great surrounded by summer weather and sand and water.

Damn You, Stephen Colbert!

Before Stephen Colbert announed that he'd annointed Robin Thicke's Blurred Lines as the Song Of The Summer, I'd only heard it once.

Granted, I avoid the radio, and music TV stations no longer play any music, but it was a minor hit to me.

But I saw it on his show, TVoed it for The Lady Of The House, watched it again, then deleted it.

But I couldn't sleep last night, and as I was turning left and right in bed, it played in my head all fucking night. No joke.

Now, I've heard it as much as anyone else on earth, without the ''benefit'' of having actually heard it.

My brain wants to die.

This Week's Top 10s

Top 10 Songs:

10. LIL WAYNE (feat. Ludacris), Eminem (2013)
9. SACRILEGE, Yeah Yeah Yeahs (2013)
8. MONOPOLY, Bloody Diamonds (2012)
7.GELLO REGGAE, Pierre Verville (1989)
6. HOIST THAT RAG, Tom Waits (2004)
5. INTO THE VOID, Nine Inch Nails (1999)
4. DOOM AND GLOOM, The Rolling Stones (2012)
3. KARMACOMA, Massive Attack (1995)
2. BROKEN PROMISE (feat. Michael Stipe), Placebo (2006)
1. MAJOR DISTRIBUTION (feat. Snoop Dogg and Young Jeezy), 50 Cent (2013)


Top 10 Canada Day Songs:

10. SOUS UN CIEL ÉCARLATE, Banlieue Rouge (1996)
9. THE NEEDLE AND THE DAMAGE DONE, Neil Young (1972)
8. WICKED AND WEIRD, Buck 65 (2003)
7. LEAVE BEHIND, Martha Wainwright (2012)
6. MONOPOLY, Bloody Diamonds (2012)
5. ROLL THE BONES, Rush, (1991)
4. I LOST MY BABY, Jean Leloup (1996)
3. THE SUBURBS, Arcade Fire (2010)
2. LITTLE BONES, The Tragically Hip (1991)
1. WAKE UP, Arcade Fire (2004)


Top 10 4th Of July Songs:

10. I DON'T WANNA GROW UP (Tom Waits cover), The Ramones (1995)
9. GRIEVANCE, Pearl Jam (2000)
8. MAJOR DISTRIBUTION (feat. Snoop Dogg and Young Jeezy), 50 Cent (2013)
7. ALL BLUES, Miles Davis (1959)
6. HARD TIMES KILLING FLOOR (Skip James cover), R.L. Burnside (2000)
5. 9-1-1 IS A JOKE, Public Enemy, (1990)
4. LOVE SICK, Bob Dylan (1997)
3. TESTIFY, Rage Against The Machine (1999)
2. BORN IN THE U.S.A., Bruce Springsteen (1984) 
1. 4TH OF JULY, Soundgarden (1994) 

Satanic Swimwear

Goth girls looking for beachwear, ready to take in a little bit of sun but insisting on tanning in an evil way? Look no further than Jenny Walker's - a.k.a. Alyx Suttle - Etsy page for the dark art of going in the sun.

First, a one-piece suit:

Also, for the satanists who are more comfortable showing off more skin, the bikini:

A fine piece of work, if I do say so myself. The bikini is available in small, medium or large and goes for $55-60, while the one-piece is also available in extra small and extra large, and goes for $70-75.

Not recommended for actual vampires.

33 Home-Made Popsicle Recipes

As a recent diabetic, I now have to eat less fruit than I used to, which means I cannot indulge in these fine examples of summer goodness - home-made popsicles!

Video Of The Week: Bananarama

I had a whole different thing planned this week, but since my provincial government went anti-democratic, totalitarian and against our charter of rights last night, I went with Cruel Summer instead.

I know - you'd think I'd choose a more political act than Bananarama, but sometimes, extreme situations call for extreme measures... and these 3 girls just might be it.

To this day, they are still the most-charter all-female musical act (take that, Spice Girls!), but would you believe thy started out with a foot planted firmly in punk rock? Indeed, they started out doing backing vocals for acts such as Iggy Pop, The Jam, The Monochrome Set and The Nipple Erectors and, before their debut launched, were even approached by Sex Pistols impresario Malcolm McLaren, who wanted to be their manager! That's what I call street cred!

They still exist today, as a duo, and I might check it out soon enough.

Fountains Of Cool

With the humidity factored in, it's over 45 degrees celsius (113 farenheit) outside today, for the second time in three days.

The Russian website English Russia brings us pictures of girls cooling themselves in fountains, and it kind of almost works in real life.

It's a lot more interesting to me than their pictorials of Russian girls in (or on) foreign cars...

Girls In Their Summer Clothes

I love Montréal in the summer, the weather, the sun, the humidity, the cleavage, the legs, the tummies, the women smelling of fresh flowers and and passion...


Some disagree, it's either their m.o. or their prerogative, but either way... fuck them.

But I see nothing wrong with a downtown like this

populated with creatures like these:

Soundgarden: Professional Assholes

I was waiting so impatiently for August 19th, 1994 to arrive. 364 days after the best show I've ever seen (Pearl Jam, 1993-08-20, Verdun Auditorium), it was Soundgarden's turn to rock the Auditorium.

Those two bands had so much in common, they were practically sister bands: Pearl Jam had come to be only after the death (by overdose) of Andy Wood, lead singer of Mother Love Bone, when half the band (Jeff Ament and Stone Gossard) went looking for something new. As ''luck'' would have it, Chris Cornell, leader of Soundgarden, was his roommate. When Wood died, Cornell, his bandmates and a few friends who had known him got together to record the Temple Of The Dog record, 10 songs released in 1991 in tribute to Wood, most written entirely by Cornell, except three where Gossard created the music to accompany Cornell's words.

One of those songs, Times Of Trouble, was later re-made by Pearl Jam, keeping the music, but with Eddie Vedder creating new lyrics and vocal pieces for a track now named Footsteps.

And Soundgarden's drummer, Matt Cameron, was actually behind the kit for the demos Pearl Jam recorded when they were shopping their songs to labels; he has also been their permanent drummer since a 1998 accident caused Jack Irons to forfeit the Yield tour, never to return.

So when 1994 came around, Soundgarden were touring what turned out to be their most successful record, Superunknown, a record on which they seemingly abandoned their previous ''heavy metal'' sound in favour of a more subtle and subdued approach reminiscent of Pearl Jam's sound, while Cornell himself, at the time known for his high-pitched squeals, like most of his contemporaries, took on a Vedder-like low growl where lyrics were now mumbled instead. But the songs were very strong.

They had lost some originality but were following some pretty solid footsteps, as PJ, at the time, could do no wrong: consecutive record-breaking release dates, taking over airwaves for pirate radio shows, fighting for low concert ticket prices, and a reputation for being the best live act in the world.

It was a no-brainer when came the time to purchase my show tickets. The show's date and the place where it was set to happen made the coincidences look like an alignment of stars any fortune teller would call ''fate''.

All summer long, as the sounds of Black Hole Sun took over from the riff-mania that was Spoonman on the radio and on TV music channels, as interest grew for this sold-out show, I looked forward to a night of awesomeness. I was even more excited when they announced the Reverend Horton Heat was going to open for them; we were getting top-notch talent, the same show Americans were getting, which to this day is still a little unusual. There are still acts who can't make it through the border and have to be replaced by local talent, which dims the overall spectacularness of the evening more often than not.

The day before, I had gone to the local HMV record store as I had a habit of doing when downtown, and purchased a CD (I forget which one) and a poster - that I still have. A typical band poster where all members can be seen from head to toe in front of a generic landscape that seemingly never ends. The band was Jesus Lizard, who are coming back in town this Fall, as it so happens, after perhaps a decade on hiatus.

After that, I went to see a movie at Place Alexis-Nihon, which no longer exists, but there's an AMC theater accross the street from where it used to be... where our hockey team used to play (Le Forum, the Temple Of Hockey in the Mecca of hockey, but I digress). I forget which movie, and who I was with, but I'll never forget what happened there.

An usher, having realized I was wearing a Soundgarden T-shirt (basically the Badmotorfinger album cover) came up to me to tell me ''hey man, 'The Dude from Soundgarden', your shirt, he's HERE, he's watching a movie right now, you want to meet him? His movie ends in like 5 minutes, I'll catch him when he gets out''.

And catch him he did. There was Kim Thayill, lead guitarist and one of the hairiest humans on the planet, accompanied by two, uh, ladies (one on each arm), stepping out of the screening room, and the usher forcing himself onto him like a bulimic running for an empty toilet stall, knocking other people on his way there. He points to me, in the distance yet at the front of my lane, and he (the usher) looks like a hyperventilating Britney Spears fan who wants her to be ''left alone'' - you know the type.

And there comes Thayill, with his two, uh, escorts, walking over to me.

''I guess you want an autograph?'', he asks, a black Sharpie pen already on him.

''Uh, yeah, sure, why not'' I answer, looking in my pocket for him to sign my movie ticket stub since I didn't have anything else to write on, really, when he takes my poster from out of my hands and signs its back, the white part, behind where the picture is, and he leaves.

I turn to the person I was with and tell her: ''the bastard! He ruined my Jesus Lizard poster!''

Indeed, what kind of motherfucker signs a poster without checking if he's on it first? He could have killed two birds with one stone just by attempting to sign the picture at least, where he'd have seen it wasn't his band on it...

So I left the theater angry after seeing a movie I don't even remember anymore (possibly Ace Ventura: Pet Detective, but who knows, really?) and went home to dream about how great the next day's performance was going to be. Because if there's one thing I've learned from television, it's that stars can sometimes be total jerk-offs all the while doing their job (be it acting, singing, playing music, directing, or ''being Paris Hilton'', whatever she does) very well.

The day went by pretty quickly and can be summed up pretty easily: a bunch of friends and I, separately or together, at some point, were all getting ready to go to the show. Verdun Auditorium is situated on the island of Montréal, close to downtown, and is two blocks away from a subway station, in a district called Verdun. In 1994, it was its own city but has since been incorporated into Montréal, so they could have a reason for their streets to be filthy, and to pay higher property taxes. The Auditorium is one of the warmest amphitheaters in the city for rock shows, which is ironic considering it's a small-to-mid-size hockey arena (sitting upwards of 5000 people per game).

Reverend Horton Heat rocks the house and, indeed, brings the heat in. We all resort to drinking beer because it is cheaper than water but also because the place is boiling; the walls are wet from sweat and condensation, people are fainting, it will be a night to remember for those of us who will stay awake to see all of it.

Soundgarden takes the stage and, as is to be expected, girls go wild for Cornell and a frenzy develops up front, where most of the people I know are, including my friend Sylvie, who hopes to be as lucky as last year, when she spent most of Pearl Jam's show making out with a total stranger whose name she never got and whom she never saw again. I'm at the right-hand of the stage, crowd-wise, left-hand side for the band, right in front of bass player Ben Shepherd.

By the fourth of fith song in, the heat is unbearable. I get a flash that sometimes, at Verdun, firemen hose people when it gets too hot, but none of them are in sight. Shepherd, however, has over a dozen water bottles on his bass amp, and drinks from them often. At song six, he feigns giving one to an audience member, then proceeds to just empty it out on the fucking stage. Just like that, wasting the water, taunting us. And he does it again and again.

Thayill is at the other end completely, totally ignoring the crowd, more often than not facing drummer Matt Cameron, the rest of the time looking at the floor. Cornell, for his part, tries to be the rock god he's always dreamed of being, what with Bono-like arm extensions to the ceiling and to the crowd and, of course, the inevitable Jesus Christ Pose.

But rock stars attract teenage girls, and apparently Cornell, true to his indie/street-cred reputation of a real and faithful and loving married man wanted nothing of it, so when Black Hole Sun started and little girls were throwing their hands up to Cornell who had let go of his guitar and was strutting at the edge of the stage pretending to mingle with fans, all he could think of doing was hitting them on the hands with his microphone, not in a ''high-five'' kind of way, but more like a ''I will break your fingers'' kind of way... which was so wrong.

After two hours of bad-sounding half-assed rocking in an arena that was too hot, Cornell and co. left the building - and so did 5000 of us, most of us extremely disappointed, some of us angered, at least one of us thinking Soundgarden were nothing but Professional Assholes.

P.S.: Matt Cameron, hidden behind his drum kit for the whole of the evening, did nothing asshole-y, I must admit. But I think I still begrudge him his former bandmates because as of today, 2009, he is still the only member of Pearl Jam I wouldn't follow blindly. Maybe it also has something to do with the fact that he replaced my favourite drummer (Irons) in my favourite band...

The Jenn Fiasco

Ah, the summer of '94. That was a busy one.

15 years old, almost 16, between grades 10 and 11. The summer that may have made me the man I am today. 125 days in which I lived enough to go through 4 years...

But most of it started in the winter before it, making friends with hockey teammates Nick and Todd. Most of our weekends were spent together, and my friends and theirs meshed and became a big whole bunch. Of their friends, another goalie, Eugene, that I sort of ran out of town the next year by taking his place as the neighbourhood's star and starter in nets, and a couple I liked, Chris and Jenn.

Chris was a short and aggressive fellow, often out looking for a fight, usually one in which he'd end up victorious - or less beaten up than his opponent. And when it went sour, Eugene and I, as resident giants, were there to get him out of any additional trouble. The only thing shorter than his temper was his hair - shaved bald.

Jenn was more reserved, seemingly always glued to Chris' left arm, or standing right behind him when trouble came calling. A pretty brunette with shoulder-length straight-ish hair, she seemed to have character, her eyes exuded it, but her demeanor was laid back.

It was a fine winter and spring, filled with plenty of action and commotion, underage drinking, arcades and late night movies. Summer was gearing up to be magical.

There was one night where a bunch of guys gathered at Todd's place to watch a Pay-Per-View special (UFC 2, March 11th) and most crashed there. There was little sleep, plenty of beer, and enough guys' talk to not have to scratch our balls for a week afterwards. Innocently enough, I mentioned to Chris at some point that I found his girlfriend attractive, but nothing was made of it - there was nothing to make of it, it was in innocent enough comment.

In June, however, it was brought to my attention that they no longer were an item, although I really paid no mind to it. It was Finals at school and in hockey, my time was well taken care of, and I was looking elsewhere for lady-fun-times - every so often with some measure of success.

There was one instance where most of our gang went out for drinks on Crescent street - Todd, Dan, Nick, Rachel, Chris, Eugene, Jenn and a few others whose names elude me fifteen years later - and Jenn asked me what ''my comment'' was about. It took me a while to understand what specific comment she was referring to, but once it was clearly established, we moved onto bigger and better subjects.

Over time, we saw less and less of some people (Nick, Chris, Eugene) and our immediate circle got tighter. Our activities were more entertaining and mature, too - less time playing pool in arcades and crashing at people's houses, more time going to midnight movie showings and hanging out in parks - where we met fun, quirky and at times disturbing characters.

One such character was a chick called Morgan that I really got into, another was an Indian girl her brother nicknamed ''Me Too'' because as a kid she would follow his every footstep. There was also Sylvie, an ex-girlfriend's best friend, and Jill, who is a whole other chapter - maybe even her own book. Heck, maybe even a Trilogy.

I was hanging out with Jenn at least every other day and she quickly started having feelings for me, but the more I was with her, the more I realized we weren't on the same wavelength at all. Everybody had already warned me, but I guess I had to see it for myself, and I surely did: she was just fucking crazy.

She was into Grand Gestures to show her appreciation of me, but every single one brought me closer to one of the other ladies - and to regretting having ever known Jenn. But it was livable, for most of the summer, because humans can adapt to most situations - and I hadn't really been dating any of these girls.

Then came Shannon. We met Shannon while hanging out in a park in Montreal West. She was 18, tall, platinum blonde - she looked just like Kim Basinger (albeit with much bigger boobs), and every single one of my male friends wanted to get in her pants. But she only had eyes for me.

She was at the other end of that park in the wee hours of the morning on that warm July night with her (even hotter, redhead, looking like an early Alanis with even bigger boobs) friend Veronica when she realized a guy we were hanging out with, Nathaniel, was a mutual friend. Introductions were made and I spent practically the rest of the night with her, side by side on a swing set, getting to know each other. Jenn was fuming!

It only took a couple of days before Shannon and I decided to start ''dating''. Even though I'm not the biggest fan of blondes (apart from Samantha Fox, of course, I'm her #1 fan), her thick set of lips were full of promise. Well, that and the massive chest. But unfortunately for us, no one wanted this relationship to work out: her parents hated me (maybe because I was 4 years younger than she was, maybe not, but anytime we were at her place, we could never be alone for even a minute), my male friends would all just try to hit on her behind my back, hers were inventing rumours about me so she would dump me and try them on for size (some included Jenn) - and Jenn wouldn't leave us the fuck alone, like a fly on sugar-covered shit, either imposing her presence with our approval or showing up impromptu.

Needless to say, when all was factored in, we didn't last all that long. After a month of trying to get it on and never getting to it, at our age, we went our separate ways. A year later, I met Veronica while walking downtown and asked for news... turns out Shannon had had a kid, and was already pregnant with her second. So the break-up wasn't all bad...

On a side note, one thing I regret was not asking Veronica out right then and there. She was the one I really got along with at that time, smart, funny, sarcastic, longer and darker hair, tall, bigger boobs, three years older than me as well...

But back to the main story. August was coming to an end now, and Jenn had managed to split the friends we had in common into two factions: 1. pro-Jenn/Seb used me and he's an asshole and a liar, and 2. Seb's friends, who didn't care about what did or didn't happen but would rather be friends with a sane person and trusted his judgement. Seems stupid and juvenile, I know, but I guess the mid-90s were a magnet for that sort of behaviour.

Until school was well back under way, I'd get bizarre offerings from Jenn in my mailbox, ranging from angry or sad letters to empty morning-after pill receptacles. It was odd, but strangely humourous, on my end anyway. Until late September, early October, at least...

Then came The Erica Situation. Erica, for totally different reasons from Jill, also probably deserves her own book. She'll likely get her own entry here in the future, so I won't go into the whole details of it, but she was the girl I dated for most of Grade 11. She attended a different high school than mine and, again, was a couple of years older than I was.

But she wasn't an Amazon like Veronica and Shannon were, she was barely five feet tall (if that, come to think of it). So, when Jenn totally blew her gasket on her case and started stalking her and following her around, not just during leisure time but also during school hours, it turned psychopathic. That's where a whole bunch of people had to tell her to back off, some even resorting to threats; even The Law got involved, and eventually it waned, then disappeared.

And here's where it gets really bizarre: a former friend of mine/ours/our summertime gang, Dan, must have found something cute in her dedication and passion, and she must have turned her obsessive-compulsiveness onto him as well, because I heard they dated for a while that year, maybe even for longer than a year, I'm not sure anymore, and I'm sort of glad I don't recall.

It was a weird few months but every day brought on new adventures and new people to meet, each more fucked up than the next. Adult-sized babies, circus freaks, hermaphrodites, teenage sex, third nipples, underage alcoholism, amusement parks, going sleepless then taking prescription drugs to compensate, violence, hiding from cops then running from them, walking on railroad tracks in near-total darkness and surviving... and always good company to be around, regardless of who went nark that day.

125 days. A summer I'll never forget, with memories I'd rather not remember. Good times.

You burden me with your problems
By telling me more than mine
I'm always so concerned
With the way you say
You've always go to stop
To think of us being one
Is more than I ever know
But this time, I realize
I'm going to shoot through
And leave you
- EMF, Unbelievable (1990)