Bushy Offspring aka Regulate yo Sweater

I read somewhere that the music a person loves at the age of 14 is the music they will be attached to the strongest for the remainder of their lives. The theory is that 14 is the average age where a person forms their own musical identity. They explore and connect to music outside of what their parents/siblings/ etc. listen to. 

In short you lose your musical virginity. You experience music outside the Phil Collins-Huey Lewis-Les Miserables- Elton John-Beach Boy paradigm (just me?) for the first time. You connect to something you didn’t know existed. Sounds, words and volumes that were completely alien to you previously. Your parents hate it and that just seems to justify it further. It showcases you as a separate entity.

You are defining yourself as a person, independent of your shared family identity and your taste in music is a big part of this. I’d argue that the musical discovery takes precedence over you as a person at this age, mostly because you’re fucking 14 and it’s going to take 15 more years to figure out what kind of person you are or want to be. Cranking up the volume on the Van Halen album you rented out from the BookMobile is a much easier way to define yourself than going through the hardship of figuring out who you are. 

That’s why the connection to music is so strong at this age, that’s why it sticks with you forever; it defines you and the lack of definition in you. You ARE that band/artist/DJ/lyric; you take their identity to fill in for the identity you haven’t discovered from within yet. 

With all that in mind, I thought it would be a curious exercise to see what music I loved at 14, what was popular and if this theory is worth a damn. 

The Offspring – Self Esteem:

The pop punk explosion of 1993/94 (Green Day’s ‘Dookie’/Rancid’s ‘Out Come the Wolves’/NOFX’s ‘Punk in Drublic’, Bad Religion’s ‘Stranger Than Fiction’ and Offspring’s ‘Smash’) would end up being something that changed my musical taste forever. 

At this point in my life I was rocking khaki’s, tucking in my jean dress shirt and gelling down my hair to the point where it was a bulletproof comb over (note: I owned Tommy Hilfiger underwear and wore my pants a little low hoping that someone would see that lame ass symbol up front, most likely so someone mistook me for Marky Mark). Then boom, the Offspring and Green Day were on the radio everywhere. Ya ya ya it’s ‘not real punk rock’, who cares. For a kid who grew up in the suburbs in Calgary it was fast, aggressive, and talked about sex. SOLD. 

The Offspring’s hit made it okay to admit in song that you had no idea what to do with girls, that you lacked any real idea about who you were and that you saw little self-worth in yourself. “I may be dumb, but I’m not a dweeb. I’m just a sucker with no self-esteem” This was one of my gateways into Punk and thus indirectly responsible for the blue hair and multiple piercings that marred my early 20s. 


Weezer – The Sweater Song:

Weezer was kind of like ‘Nirvana lite’ back then. If you couldn’t get into the whole “Teen Spirit” thing and the screaming that accompanied it, Weezer was an easy middle ground. Melodic and poppy almost to a fault, this was a 14 year olds dream. It has the whole 90’s ‘quiet then loud’ thing down to a science. You were able to feel indie and cool without having to do the homework. Play this at a party with a bunch of 30-somethings and every single person in the room knows the words. What’s this song even about? Does it even matter? The correct answer is ‘No’.  

I try to still like Weezer, to respect them, I really do. I, along with countless others, have a connection with the band because of the Blue Album. You felt cool when you hung out with them, that elusive nerd indie cool. I’d guess that kids today feel the same thing when they listen to that “Somebody that I Used to Know” song. 

Maybe I didn’t call often enough, maybe I stopped taking them out on dates, maybe I put on 20 pounds and started drinking; whatever the case might be we broke up shortly somewhere between Pinkerton and the Green Album. It’s not you Weezer, it’s me.  And like any girl you dated when you were a teenager you fondly recall some really good moments but odds are if you ran into her today she’d be totally shitty. 


 
Warren G – Regulate:

Welcome to white kid Hip Hop:101 circa 1994. Every suburban kid I knew was rocking Mr. Warren G back then. Most of the appeal is that it’s actually a pretty hardcore song without detaching your average suburban kid lyrically. In short you can understand the words because the pacing is slow. You play Fu-Schnickens’ “True Fuschnick” for some white kids in suburban Canada in 1994 and that shit is intimidating as hell at first listen. 

Warren G was a warm hip hop blanket for the white teens who wanted to be down. You could connect without looking like an idiot (well you could say the words right, you probably still looked like an toolshed singing about ‘letting your gat explode and then switching back to freak mode’).

The negative side of the spectrum is you now had white teen kids trying to act like hip hop stars. A phase I ran head first into around 16. Cue me rolling one pant leg up once I had enough beers in me and saying ‘Yo’ a lot, like A LOT. I’m pretty sure Warren G is personally responsible for me not getting more action when I was a teen. 

I didn’t hurt that Nate Dogg sounded bad ass on anything he ever did ever. Put Nate Dogg on a Miley Cyrus song and sign me up yo. Regulator’s, mount up. 

Bush – Glycerine:

Alright I’ll admit it. I was into Bush, or Bush X, or whatever else they needed to be called. They deceived me. Well played Gavin Rossdale, well played. This is a perfect example of a musical connection that exists due to its timing in a person’s life. The song is shitty, plain and simple. Lyrically it’s a disaster. It plays off the 1990’s guitar driven grunge scene without being authentic. And worst of all it’s a cheap trick.

The trick was you were able to fake sensitivity by liking this song, both externally and internally. You’d put it on when having a moment with a girl (or on a well-timed and planned out mix-tape), showcasing how sensitive you were, which was just passing along the lie Bush fed your poor teenage brain. 

“Why did Johnny turn out to be such a jerk? He was so understanding and vulnerable”. No Sally he just listened to “Glycerine” a million times and it became his costume, until inevitably his actual self (dumb teenage boy) showed up. 

Internally you could sit and ponder and commend yourself on how deep you were. You were 14, this shit sounds like Edgar Allan Poe to a 14 year old. You were almost forced to take your interpretation of the meaning of the lyrics, the mood and internalize it at that age. I can’t imagine the amount of crappy teen songs and poems this song spawned, myself included in the guilty party. This song is 100% liable for several regrettable notes passed from me to girls with all the right intentions, but with horrific consequences. Pretty sure I signed one as “Orange Sorbet” by the way. For some weird reason we never dated.


 

In summary I imagine it is the spirit of getting your musical cherry popped that sticks with you the most. The tones and themes of the songs. They linger and you connect to new artists based on some of these first experiences. I loved Warren G so I love Lil Wayne. I loved the Offspring so I love Propagandhi. Perhaps that’s why I find dubstep so insufferable; I have no context to connect to it. Oh and cause it’s shitty.

Cover That Junk Up (aka Girl Covers)

Cover songs are the plague of the music industry. They are at the same time the greatest compliment an artist can receive, but also a free ride for someone to use a tracks previous success for their own marketing. The song presumably has already been tried and tested in the public domain, they are the easiest tool for instant public approval. YouTube is the breading grown for cover shittiness, every kid in the world can upload their crappy version of Adelle’s ‘Rolling in the Deep’. That’s not to say there is no place in the world for cover songs, but you have to be able to put forth some originality on it.

Now there are a couple cardinal sins (to me) relating to cover songs. One, bands use this tool to seem somehow more interesting by covering a song that is well outside their breadth. Example: “I can’t believe Belle and Sebastian did a cover of Slayer.” Now to the naked eye, the bad bastard folk music that Belle and Sebastian create on a consistent basis is uplifted, into the world of ‘interesting’ if only for a second. This is a fallacy, Belle and Sebastian do make sad bastard, boring music, and even if such a cover existed it wouldn’t change this fact. If Hell existed it would be playing “The Boy and the Arab Strap” for all eternity, and yes I bought that record for some goddamn reason (chalk it up to teenage wannabe-ness “Let’s drink chamomile tea and talk about knitting techniques”).

The second sin is covering a song you don’t even like, explicitly using the songs popularity to simultaneously poke fun at it, but also reaping the benefits of its popularity. See every pop-punk band who covered a Britney song. A cover used to be a tribute, a declaration that ‘this song/band fucking rocks’. Now at times it seems to be filler for a band that doesn’t have enough material to please a crowd, so they may as well play Wonderwall because everyone and their mom knows the lyrics.

All that being said, and yes I’m going to contradict myself, sometimes cover songs are just fun. Here are three cover songs that are currently rocking my speakers on a consistent basis.

1. 6 Foot 7 - Lil Wayne (covered by Karmin)

She absolutely kills it and with a smile on her face the whole time.

2. Pursuit of Happiness - Kid Cudi (covered by Lissie)

Great song, great cover. People told me “slow my roll”, I’m screaming out “Fuck that”.

3. I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You - The Black Kids (covered by Kate Nash)

Great version. Plain and simple.

Blinded by the Nights aka Dance in my Pants

Throughout a young music lovers life you go through phases, rites of passage. You need to immerse yourself in scenes so you can find yourself, musically. Oh and so you can either fit in with the current trend facing a pre-teen (that band Live, what the fuck was that about?) or so you can attempt to get close to the girls you not-so-secretly pine for (every girl with bright artificially colored hair, tattoos, piercings and an fuck you attitude).

I had my hip hop phase (young money!), my ska phase (Rudy can’t fail!) and my punk rock phase (Nazi punks fuck off!) . So what was left? Why the rave scene of the late 90’s of course.

Baggy pants, endless bass, late nights and of course the drugs. My Ship and Anchor wing lady Jill brought me to my first party, I had no idea what to expect, and no clue how to dance (still don’t). I remember trying to keep an open mind, but I was a punk rock kid, how would I act at some neon lovefest when I just wanted guitar driven aggressive music?

I remember writing my name and address down on a piece of paper before I got there, I knew I was going to try E and was worried I would have to flee the scene and wouldn’t be able to communicate to a cab driver. Which makes total sense right? Don’t research what you’re about to do, just hope for the best and have a scribbled down address as your backup plan. Boys are dumb.

Walking up the stairs, hearing the bass beat, feeling the stairs shake below me, had me thinking I was going to some European gangbang. I must have walked around for hours, checking out the scene, people watching, studying how people danced (cause there would be a test later). Some girl came up to me and told me I was beautiful. I blankly stared back at her “umm thanks” as I continued my travels around the hall thinking “weirdo”.

I won’t go into the details of the drugs (I’ll leave you to make a judgment on the negatives and positives of partaking in such things) but I will say I found myself on the dance floor at some point in the night. And yes, loving it. Although I had no idea what to do out there. At some point I heard the guy beside me call out to his friend “Ha is he doing the robot?” And of course I was, I knew like two dance moves, and the bunny hop seemed inappropriate somehow. Although if you throw that on at a wedding I am more than prepared to tear the roof of like Redman.

The song I leave you with is Mike Skinner’s classic “Blinded by the Lights”, which is the closest commentary on what going to a party is like. Confusing with a chance of awesome.

And as bonus, and to poke fun at ravers everywhere.

The Tao of the Wu-Tranny Clan

Hedwig and the Angry Inch – Angry Inch

First things fucking first. I fucking loathe musicals, I really do, I would do unmentionably horrific things to Andrew Lloyd Weber for the pain he has caused mankind. For countless hours I sat in the back of my mother’s Mercury Comet as a child unknowingly soaking up lines from ‘Cat’s’ and ‘The Phantom of the Opera’ . At the time it all seemed normal, but looking back it explains my ongoing constant desire to break into song in inappropriate/public places. It also explains that weird childhood memory of me singing “Tomorrow” from the musical ‘Annie’ to my babysitter’s cat in their backyard at the top of my lungs over and over on summer day. And I won’t even get into the issue of attempting to define my own sexuality while having ‘Les Miserables’ stuck in the back of my head as a pre-teen, “should I ask her out now or wait for my single spotlight cue?”

That all being said (musicals suck, my mother messed me up, cat serenades) Hedwig and the Angry Inch is different, well to me at least. The story of a gay boy from Communist Germany who goes through a botched up sex change to marry a American solider, only to be abandoned in USA with a ‘Barbie doll crotch’ on his/her way to becoming a punk rock icon of sorts. As ridiculous as that all sounds, it’s even more ridiculous how much I adore this shit. Punk rock, trans-gender bj jokes, Plato connotations, how can you go wrong?

Justin Bieber Feat. Kanye West and Raekwon – Runaway Love

If one ever needed proof that the musical landscape has truly become a melting pot of genres one need look no further than Bieber’s Kanye produced track ‘Runaway’. I find the very fact that this track exists interesting beyond comprehension.

This is Justin Bieber, the 17 year old bubblegum-pop teen record selling machine with Kanye West, who arguably created the album of the year in 2010 (and one of the best hip-hop albums in 10 years), and Raekwon from the legendary Wu-Tang Clan. I repeat, Wu-Tang and Bieber. And this isn’t some track some kid cut and pasted together, this was an open collaboration, they were in the studio together.

Never before in pop music history has two artists at the top of their game, dripping with success and credibility, joined forces with someone the likes of Bieber. I propose that this is a paradigm shift in popular music, maybe the pinacle. Over the last few years we have seen genres mixed and matched (see the current trend of hip hop using house/techo produced beats), artist collaboration is at an all-time high, and already successful pop acts taking genre risks they never would have before.

It begs the question though. What’s the difference between JB and Usher? The fan-base? The age? Aside from the obvious race difference I see no real difference. And what about Justin Timberlake? Who has somehow gained as much credibility as anyone in music (name me one hip-hop artist who wouldn’t work with him). Things done changed (yo), in pop music and in hip-hop. And maybe this is all for the best, maybe it is time genre’s are left behind, maybe this is where we drop the labels. Perhaps DJ’s, mash-up artists and the need to reach new audiences have altered the landscape forever.

So next time you go to make your Justin Bieber joke, remember to protect yo neck, cause Wu-Tang Clan ain’t nothing to fuck wit. Ya ya, i got nothing else okay.

Dry Your Nookie Mate

The Streets – Dry Your Eyes Mate

Alright, it’s no secret that on any given night I’d snuggle up to Mike Skinner in our cozy double bed from behind and whisper sweet nothings into his ear about how perfect he is as an artist. About how his deadpan accent drenched delivery backed by UK drum and bass/house/hip hop beats makes my ‘Bobby Segar’ (get it? get it?) on a consistent basis. I’d explain how his quirky and intelligent word-play made household North American ‘Rap-Pop-Stars’ seem like some inside joke that I didn’t get, like Snuggies or Smart Cars.

How the shit does this work Mr. Skinner? You just talk, semi on beat, or awkwardly semi sing a chorus about cell phone issues, taking too many pills, the legalization of weed, not “mugging yourself” and misunderstood Facebook updates. But it does work. Like some sort of calm White Squall, a perfect paradox of pop music and UK flavor. Of hip hop and rave culture. It’s like Jesus made a mash-up.

Which brings me to Skinners 2004 “Dry Your Eyes Mate”, maybe the most honest and perfect heartbreak song written in the last 10 years from a man’s perspective.

The acoustic guitar is dead my friends; it’s been beaten to death by endless shitty acoustic covers and the perception that putting words over some generic acoustic strumming makes the song more “meaningful”. Please, nursery rhymes sound “meaningful” when sung over Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Landslide’. That being said, an acoustic guitar, a simple slow drum beat, and a Chris Martin chorus (yes that fucking Chris Martin (and no Martin’s sins do not devalue this song)) somehow both makes tender love to my eardrums and forces me to ponder those times when I was on the wrong side of an infatuation.

The thing that should make The Streets fail is the exact thing that makes them succeed. The awkwardly delivered lyrics. Without being overly concerned about rhyme and measure Skinner can delivery in a way that no other artist can, he can just explain it to you, clearly and cleverly.

As Skinner himself stated “You say that everything sounds the same, then you go buy them, there’s no excuse my friends, let’s push things forward”. BTW WTF is an ‘artful dodger’?

Denise Williams - Let’s Hear It Tor The Boy

Ugh, I can’t believe I’m writing this down. But I fucking love this jam. I do. I hate myself for it, but I do. It reminds me of roller-skating, crimped hair and the beat is about as head-bobby as you can get. It’s a perfect white guy dancing track, possibly only trumped by Bruce Springsteen’s “Dancing in the Dark”. But there was always something more to it, something underlying that I was attached to, that I just couldn’t figure out. But then, one day, it clicked. This song is about getting nookie.

The entire song this chick complains about how her man doesn’t talk sweet, doesn’t dress nice (but she doesn’t mind), he has no money and he’s a terrible singer. But when he pulls her close, watch the F out, cause he’s her loving one man show (whoa whoa whoa whooooooooa). Denise Williams basically wrote NIN’s ‘Closer’ in 1984.

Kudos Miss Williams, kudos. (Sidenote: this video is WICKED offside if my theory is correct, which of course it is)

Drinking Virgin Blood

It has been a long time since i wrote anything. My bad. To attempt to make it up to you i have written a horrifically embarassing story for your eyes to laugh at.

As previously mentioned I was a bit of a late bloomer in terms of most things. I didn't drink till I was 17. Didn't try drugs till I was 18. And was hopelessly awkward with girls until ohhhh last night (thanks mom!). The following is the sad bastard of a story that was losing my wretched virginity.

First some background on who I was at this stage in my life. After graduating high school I decided to make the always intelligent "break" from school. Cause apparently high school was wicked draining on me? During that time I got my first job (thanks Safeway) and was also subsequently fired for the first time two months later (fuck you Safeway). Me and "the boys" would hang out literally on a daily basis, playing sports and watching flicks. To be honest girls were kind of seen as too much work and an unneeded dramatic element. Sure they were pretty and smelt nice but unless I was hopped up on 25 cent draft and ‘Pony’ by Ginuwine was pumping through the Taz's speakers I saw no need in heavily investing in them aside from some rad friends who just happened to have lady lumps (check it out).

Anyways. Sorbs and I had made the decision to leave our parents house and venture out into the downtown core. I suddenly put a rather large about of pressure on myself to see if I could bring back girls to the apartment. Sorbs had a girlfriend at the time so I knew i would be solo in my efforts. Btw I think the idea that my buddy/roommate was getting action on a regular basis had a large part to do with my sudden determination to lose my vcard. The first night we had possession I made a promise to myself that I would not be coming home alone. No matter what. What could go wrong right?

So how does a young mildly retarded boy pick up a girl? Why drink pitcher after pitcher of beer and 'cruise' the bar and hope that a girl just sort falls into ur lap of course. I have a hazzy memory of the awkward search. I eventually crossed paths with a girl I had seen at a couple parties and had drunkenly talked to on numerous occasions.

I remember forcefully trying to fill lulls in the conversation so she wouldn't have a moment to give me the "I should get back to my friends" line. I remember thinking "be witty", "make her laugh" and I think I thought to myself "look tough" for some unknown reason. Boys are dumb.

Eventually the lights came on. I knew it was now or never. Time to step up and be a man/drunken boy. So how do I ask a girl home for the first time? I had no idea. But I knew something had to be said. It had to be subtle, and cool, yet keep it classy. So obviously I asked "Hey. Umm. What are u doing now? Wanna…umm. Come to my place to play original Nintendo?"

Yes, I actually thought that was cool and subtle.

Honestly.

And for some god knows why reason she said “ya sure”.

We took the car ride back to our apartment and Sorbs and his gf intelligently made themselves scarce. So there I was, with a girl in my apartment (willingly I might add), both of us tipsy, so what do I do? Why fire up the original Nintendo of course. Almost immediately she crosses her arms (never a good sign fellas) and asks me:

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Ummm I thought you wanted to play Nintendo”

“I don’t want to play FUCKING Nintendo”

“Oh”

Next thing that made sense to me was drinking more beer. Maybe if I had more ‘liquid courage’ this situation would be easier. Hell she might even take the lead and put me out of my misery. As the beer levels decreased and the silence levels increased on my patio I knew I had to take a stab at this. I knew I had to say something, something that would let her know that I was down, but that I wasn’t a total ahole.

So again, what verbal diarrhea comes spilling out of my mouth?

“So ummm what are the chances of a guy like me, and a girl like you….going back to my bedroom and…?”

I kid you not, that is verbatim what I said. I remember so vividly because she was chuckling by the end of the question. Shaking her head. Then turned to me, took me by the hand, and lead me to the bedroom.

I would love to sit here and write about how that night I turned in an all-star performance, that I was impressive on all accounts, made up for my awkwardness and cheesy lines with my ability to deliver. But my friends. That would be a filthy filthy lie. To be honest it was all a blur. I remember doing a little of X and a little of Y and suddenly before I even knew what was up…I was…umm…playing field hockey. Well I had stepped on the field at least. I didn’t play the game for long, and I definitely didn’t make the team that night.

I was officially, and literally a “two pump chump”.

There was this moment of happiness and awkwardness that immediately followed. I had done it. I was no longer a virgin. Meanwhile the girl who I was still laying on top of wasn’t exactly happy about the situation. As I crawled off her and collected my thoughts on how I would deal with this situation she rolled away from me. Her back to me I heard her whisper

“I can’t believe I came all the way here…..for that”

I died a little that night. Ha.

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Anyway you want it (Happy New Years)

Don’t Stop Believing - Journey

So this song is a beyond cliché now. But it still defines a part of my friends and me. It’s been played at all our weddings. It was put on repeat at bachelor parties. It has become a part of our language. Now if only my gf would let me blare the song during sex while a massive asteroid hurdled toward Earth and Bruce Willis wasn’t anywhere to be found. Epic much? Suck on that Jerry Bruckheimer.

Under the Gun – The Killers

For some reason every pop song about love or heartbreak that I like is a song I could fantasize picture myself singing in some high school musical type scenario. Walking though the halls. Nodding my head while I sing about my heartbreak. Pushing people out of my way as I look directly into the camera and express my anger at ‘her’ for choosing ‘him’. Singing in the car is basically a way to live this experience out in a safe way. Really all I want to do is be Ewan Macgregor in Chicago but in a high school setting. Wait does that mean I like Glee?