“Punk fucking rock.” The first

“Punk fucking rock.”

The first thing I did when I got to work Thursday afternoon was take off my pants. Just because I could. Pissy Halifax weather… I got soaked on my way down here. Hung my jeans on the radiator and spent the afternoon editing dialogue in my underwear.

I took a break at one point and walked around the studio half-naked thinking, “Now, my job isn’t so bad.”

Wednesday was a late night in Hell’s Kitchen. I helped set the place up for eight turntables worth of jungle/drum&bass madness and found myself with a fistful of drink tickets. There were a lot of beautiful available women at the Marquee, but mostly I just went around buying shots for pretty girls and then saying “Nice talking to you” and walking away. I think I confused a few people; but I already had plans. Yes… the second best thing about the single life (after rampant promiscuity) is the privilege of being able to go home and get a good sleep, alone, in your own bed… any time you want.

Before going down to Hell on Wednesday, I spent the evening remixing a four-track demo of one of my old punk bands, North Patrol. I played lead guitar, sang a couple songs. Looks like North Patrol are going to be getting back together, so I was dumping the four-track master into Digital Performer to sweeten it up and burn a few CDs. I used to enjoy playing this fun-loving working-class Maritime pride music. I’m looking forward to the reunion.

Lately I’ve been all about the electric guitar. I also started two other new bands in the past week and I’ll be playing my Gibson SG in both. “L’Orange” (pronounced like a sexy French woman whispering in your ear) is a band with Lukas Pearse (ex-Rebecca West) on bass and Allan Cameron (ex-Dr. Yellow Fever) on drums. We’re somewhere between Fugazi and the Minutemen with some experimental funk elements. And then there’s “Colour TV” which has Derek (Envision, The Bomb Scares) also playing guitar and singing, and Scott (The Break-up, Shrine Of American Martyr) playing bass. Beats will be courtesy my drum machine, Wilf. We’ll be somewhere between Jesus & Mary Chain and My Bloody Valentine, with some big rock elements. I’ll probably get out the leather jacket and sunglasses for this one.

Faced with the realization that I’m now in something like eight bands, I thought, “Damn, man, I’m gonna have to give up having sex.” I already work two jobs, how will I ever make time to rock otherwise? So that’s it. No sex for the month of June, while I go make a bunch of records. There’s work to be done. I vowed to stiffen my resolve, if nothing else.

However. Partway through the day Thursday I got a phone call at work from a gorgeous babe I’d had a torrid affair with last year. “Guess what baby… I’m not wearing any pants.” Now there’s a good way to start a conversation. Ooo wee, as of 7 o’clock that evening, my plans to go celibate were pretty much out the window. Oh well. I’ll make records later.

It’s 1 in the morning… the Marquee was dead tonight. I came back to the studio after doing sound for jazz night and took off my pants again. Not because I had to, but because the boss is out of town, and because I could. I put on Strings Of Life and cranked it up and had a rave all by myself [download the mp3 and turn off all the lights and listen to it, right now!]. And then I sat down and typed this.

PS Here’s a song I used to sing with North Patrol. It’s fuckin’ punk.
~ Long Live The Republic [2.2MB mp3]

“The king of the beats is gonna rock the place.” Actually the king of the beats is gonna go home to bed. Better put my pants back on first.