Monthly Archives: May 2006

Yes siree, looks like we had a pretty good haul of merch this year. Lots of ripe new CDs and fresh new t-shirts, straight off the ol’ merch tree. You’re all invited to come and share in this bountiful harvest.

I’m going to try to hitch a ride all the way to San Francisco for Vloggercon. If you’re passing through why not help a fellow up the road a ways.

One way or another I’ll make it. California is a state of mind.
[7.5MB QuickTime]

music: download for garageband 2.0 (Mac OS X)

P.S. OK I’m being slightly metaphorical with this video. I’m not really planning on hitchhiking all the way across the continent to San Francisco. Unless “hitch a ride” is understood to mean “buy my shit so I can afford a plane ticket.” more info here

send this boy to camp

VloggerCon is the big annual videoblogging convention, being held this year in mid-June all the way out in San Francisco.

I’ve been invited to this party and I so badly want to go, but I’m a little short on funds. So I’ve set up a PayPal donation scheme. You can click on the button in the sidebar and it will take you to a page where you can contribute some money to my plane-ticket fund.

Since I’m not big on being a charity case I’m going to use this PayPal scheme as a means to move some merchandise, in the hopes of making it worth your while to contribute. If you donate $20, I will mail you a copy of the new A/V disc, Hot Action. For $30, I’ll send you a copy of Hot Action along with the previous A/V disc, Control Change, which has a whole bunch of hits on it including “Ask Your Wife” and “The End Of Sex” and “Art Star 2001“.

And if you’re willing to contribute fifty dollars, I will send you the two A/V discs plus a sexy A/V “Hot Action” t-shirt in whatever size you want. All in all I’d say that’s not a bad deal.

Anyone who chips in any amount at all will receive a postcard from me from California. And if you don’t care about getting stuff and would prefer to donate anonymously, that’s OK too.

I’m new to PayPal. If you don’t use it, or if it gives you any trouble, drop me a line and we’ll work something out.

I have an idea for a little promotional video that I’ll post tomorrow assuming it doesn’t rain.

I took the television outside and put it in the canoe. The damn unit’s busted. For a while there I could get TFC (Two Fucking Channels) but now my eyes are drowning in static. I paddled out to the middle of the river in the rain and dropped the TV right over the side. I’ve found something better to watch.

Back at the riverbank the canoe went out from under me and I fell face-down in a bunch of water and mud. I stood up on shaky legs and came back in the house. Now I’m a filthy fucking mess. My brain is dirty. What the hell am I going to do?

I’m going to stay out alone in the woods while the world spins and spins and revolves around me. I’m going to live to be 150 and when I die all my sins will be washed away in a lake of funky fire.

OUT DAMN SPOT dot move
[5MB QuickTime]

music by me

A/V Hot Action lyrics

The new A/V disc comes out next week. I’ll be picking up the CDs in Halifax this weekend.

I’ll be doing a few CD release shows.
Saturday May 20 — Halifax @ The Attic
Sunday May 21 — Saint John @ Elwood’s
Thursday June 1 — Fredericton @ The Capital

These shows with The Trick and, Dog willing, Gary Flanagan. You can check out a couple of the new tunes at

Along with the CD, I’m also going to be releasing a DVD featuring the actual recording sessions in GarageBand format.

GarageBand is the free recording software that comes with Mac OS X. It’s what I used to mix all these songs. Anybody who owns a fairly recent Apple computer will now be able to dig into the tracks, remix them, tear them down and rebuild them from scratch. I’m just as excited about this as I am about releasing the actual CD. I don’t know of too many bands who have done this with an entire new album.

I’m also working a 9Volt Sound System CD in the hopes of having it done by the weekend of the 20th. 9Volt is my electronic instrumental project. It’s mostly tech-house, chilled-out stuff. I’m performing twice as 9Volt in Halifax this weekend, Friday at One World and Saturday night at Gus’s Pub opening for Jesse Dangerously and Mayor McCa.

I was planning on compiling a DVD of all the Swordfight videos to release next week as well. But that just might be too much at once. I’ll see how it goes.

It’s pretty rewarding to have a crowd of people dancing to your music. What’s even better is when there’s a room full of people singing along with the lyrics. That’s when you know you’re connecting with people.

To encourage this sort of thing, and for future reference, I’m posting all the lyrics from the new CD. Come out to these shows and we’ll see about having a good time.

The Clumsy Surgeon
They call you out and the surgeon speaks: they’re going to operate.

You’ve signed the release. They wheel you in. Enjoy your stay. Passing out in the hospital hallway.

They roll you out. The surgeon preps and feels for a pulse. They drugged you while you slept. Makes the cut and your face goes pale. You’re under the knife.

Your skull is scarred. But I don’t care as cancerous words pollute the air. Recover in time, vacate the bed. They’re reading your mind with electrodes stuck to your head.

They roll you out. The surgeon’s rushed–he shouldn’t operate. The scalpel is edged with rust.

Open me up. Massage my heart.

I shudder to the sound of tissue torn apart.

Phantom City Wants To Hurt You
Followed down the street where the bottles are smashed with the smell of gasoline
they’re burning up limousines
followed in the alley where the dealers spit blood to defend their ‘stache
chewing on broken glass
Followed on the bridge where the soldiers climb over the protective wall
screaming in free fall
Followed in the rubble where the fire left nothing but a blackened shell
and a secret you can never tell

Followed in the airport where the runway is closed, vultures on the tarmac
the pilot had a heart attack
Followed to the tower where all questions are erased as the cycle sweeps clean
falling off the radar screen
Followed in the hospital, the ghosts have been released and they’re floating down the hall
tripping on tofranil
Followed in the subway where the cops are looking down at a woman on her back
she pushed her daughter on the tracks

Followed in the rubble where the fire left nothing but a blackened shell
and a secret you can never tell

Phantom City.

Miss A/V
When darkness flies in on the wings of night, you’ll find a smoky shelter until the morning light. I’ll take away your bottle and I’ll throw it on the floor. Grab you by the arm and pull you out the door.

Pay the consequences, let the city burn, because you’ve made up your mind and my resolve is firm. Couldn’t even wait to get back to your place. You’ve got your hands in my pockets and my pants in your face.

So sharp every time I’d see you around. It didn’t take long to pin you down.
My compass needle spins from north to south. You’ve got a magnet in your mouth.

Do You Two Know Each Other?
(I bought a car since I wrote this. South Street is no big deal now. Clayton Park is the new South End.)
We showed up so late, but it’s who you leave with that defines a date. I can tell by that look you’ll be throwing romance away again. We shake hands, new plans. I don’t think your friends are gonna understand. We’ll make our escape by smashing through a window pane.

You followed me downstairs, now you can’t go back up with all that ish in your hair. We might as well resign ourselves. I’ll forgive the last time suck-and-tell, what the hell.

The taxi: a battle. But South Street is too far to travel… I know I’ll regret if I have to leave the ‘hood again.

Wipe that memory off your face like a lipstick trace and give me something to forget again. Just when I swore that I wouldn’t make any more mistakes, a lingering touch kills my resolve, again.

Bar Star 2001
(Moral: be careful about talking a bunch of sexist shit because that chick in the tarzan top might turn out to be a robot assassin from the future.)
Guest list, VIP, making the scene. She’s a cool operator and a modern machine. Freestyle freaking with her long black hair, and she looks even better with her ass in the air.

Perfect lips pout with a promise to thrill. Stainless steel eyes and a license to kill. Cold-blooded payback in the parking lot. On the dance floor, no one heard the shot.

Cross wires, we’ll set the speakers on fire. Burn it down. This is the future of sound.

(This song is a Shotmaker cover.)

By The Way, Darling…
(“By the way, darling… I slept with the captain last night.”)
Compelled to return by a light on in the basement. Cruise down the street, the exit takes you to the top. Curtains are closed when you drive past for the third time. Get out in the rain to drop the quarter in the slot.

The phone booth is cold and the streets run with water. No one is home. There’s no one left that you can call. Sit in your car, it’s a place to cry in private. Or go down to the bar and punch a hole in the wall.

But you knew it was coming all along.

Soaked to the skin at the end of the driveway. Hailstones crack and mask your footsteps on the deck. In the backyard, a grim draught of paranoia, as you breathe in the steam blowing from the dryer vent.

You knew it was coming all along.

At War With Satan
Shell-shocked when I got home from the war, I walked down a street I’d not been on before. Haunted every night by dirty dreams. You walked in and you caught me on my knees.

Could you ever love a sinner?

You are the spear that pierced me in the womb. You are the stone that rolled across my tomb. You are the blood that ran into my eyes. And on the third day the sun refused to rise.

Jesus left to prepare for me a grave–he’ll dig a hole for the soul he cannot save. And when I die, I hope you’ll wish me well, I was never good at staying out of hell.

I tried and I failed. I tripped over the devil’s tail. When my life is cut short, stab me with the devil’s pitchfork.

It’s too late. Cut short. I gave it up when I sold my soul [for a bassline]…
Could you ever love a sinner?
I will see you in hell.

A Track For Robin

Black Spring
The edge of the river is starting to bleed into frost as the ice floes collide and recede. From midnight to morning, no longer afraid. Concealing and receiving the blade.

Deer in the driveway and fox in the field. Under a snowbank, the carcass is revealed, eyes glaring. Smoked out in need and desire.

Throw one more log on the fire. Peel away the skin.

Benefit For The Memorial Fund
(New recording of an old A/V song, originally recorded with Selwyn in Dec. 2000)
I drove past the fence and pulled up to the entrance, sat for a little while until my conscience cleared. I should not have doubted you were serious about it.

But after all, it was my first time back in years.

Now that I’m alone I remember our old home, and the thought of happy times can bring great solace. I always wondered where you went when the darkness scared you. Jane used to rub her eyes and ask when you were coming back.

Hung out to miss you with all of the relatives that I remember from the night your daughter died.

And in a couple days, we ran out of things to say. So we boarded up the house. And carted everything away.

moonlight rendezvous

How I hate the month of May with its terrible anniversaries. The last day I saw her. The last day anyone saw her. The day we found out.

Late last night I walked around the house in the dark. Up and down the stairs, up and down the hallways. There’s no need to believe in ghosts. I do a good job of haunting this place myself.

From an upstairs window I saw shapes down on the lawn, movement in the moonlight. I went outside to check out the backyard.

Down at the river a beaver slapped its tail on the water. A pair of deer took off running in opposite directions.

I stood perfectly still on the grass, I listened to the rustle of bushes as the two deer circled around to meet back up again.


The current banner for this website features a photo of a plastic lawnchair sitting in front of my house. A solitary chair for a solitary existence.

A great big wind came up and blew that chair right out onto the driveway.

I got in my car and put it in reverse and drove backwards onto the chair. It busted into a bunch of pieces. See, that’s what happens. That chair could just as easily have been a living thing, like a small child, or a turtle.

I left the white plastic shards right where they lay. Scattered about the driveway like bleached fossil-bones.

The ribcage of a dinosaur. The vertebra of a seal. The jawbone of an ass.