Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Sinead O'Connor

My timeline of Sinéad O'Connor is in this month's Exclaim and online.

Sinéad O'Connor: Nothing Compares 2 Her

Sinéad O'Connor - Nothing Compares 2 Her

By Andrea Warner

Has there ever been a more conflicted, tragic, talented musician than the bald child advocate, bipolar-afflicted, anal-sex-loving, Pope-picture-tearing, angel-voiced former-priest Sinéad Marie Bernadette O'Connor? In short, no. And though she's been recording and making music since she was 14 years old, O'Connor's actual artistry has mostly taken a backseat to her highly publicized personal problems. Appropriately enough, her new album is entitled How About I Be Me (And You Be You)? But after the last few months O'Connor has experienced ― a quickie Vegas marriage (her fourth!) already on the rocks mere hours after saying "I do," a suicide attempt, public cries for help on Twitter, and her subsequent hospitalization ― she might like a chance to be somebody else for a while. Love her or loathe her, it's impossible to argue: it's tough work being Sinéad O'Connor.

1966 to 1982
O'Connor is born on December 8, 1966 in Dublin, the third of five children for Sean and Marie O'Connor. Sean and Marie's troubled marriage dissolves when O'Connor is eight years old. Though she's initially sent to live with her father, O'Connor ultimately returns to her mother's home, only to move back in with her father at age 13. In a 1991 interview with Spin, O'Connor will reveal that she and her siblings endured abuse their entire lives at their mother's hands. "I've been beaten with all things with which you can beat a child," she'll tell Spin founder, Bob Guccione Jr. "I didn't get food, I was locked up for days in my room, without food and without clothes. I had to sleep in the garden at night. An entire summer I slept in my home's garden... I was always told that I wasn't all right, that I was a piece of shit, that it was my fault that my parents had separated. That I was filthy, that I was dirty, that I was crazy. I was mostly a piece of shit because I was a girl and because I never did anything right. My whole life I was always terrified. Just the sound of my mother's footsteps on the stairs was enough to let us tremble of fear. We were neglected, we were beaten and we were psychologically and emotionally abused."

O'Connor will offer more more graphic and disturbing details about the abuse in a 2001 interview with The Independent: "It was that kind of psychological destruction. On a regular basis I'd be made to take off my clothes and lie on the floor while she kicked me here [gestures towards genitals] and spit at it. And make me say things like 'I'm nothing,' and ask for mercy. There was a lot of sadism. The violence was sexually abusive."

Living with her mother, O'Connor misses school, never does homework, and finds herself complicit in her mother's theft and fraudulent activities. In an interview with Fred Dove on the BBC's Outlook, O'Connor will recall how her mother used to drive her and her sister around with collection boxes pretending they were for charity. They go into pubs and collect hundreds of pounds, with their mother pocketing the money. Her mother also encourages her to shoplift, which continues until she's caught at 14 and sent to An Grianán Training Centre (one of the infamous Magdalene asylums), an institution in Dublin for girls with behavioural problems, for 18 months. In the Outlook interview, O'Connor calls her time at the asylum traumatic, but also admits "it was the best thing that ever happened to me actually. The nun that ran the place was the person that bought me my first guitar." After a volunteer at the asylum hears O'Connor singing, she recommends the 14-year-old join her brother's band, In Tua Nua. O'Connor records the band's debut single, but is forced out when she's deemed too young to tour.

1983 to 1989
O'Connor's father sends her to an exclusive Quaker boarding school. A teacher sees that the young teen has no interest in traditional education, and encourages her to record a four-song demo, two covers and two originals. She drops out in 1984 after forming a band with Columb Farrelly, which they call Ton Ton Macoute. The reviews praise O'Connor's onstage magnetism and voice, but her time with the band is cut short when her estranged mother dies in a car accident in 1985. In her 1991 interview with Spin, O'Connor will offer details about a conversation she had with her mother about the abuse before she died. "I said 'Why did you hit us?', and she said, 'I've never done anything to you.' She believed that she had done nothing, because it was too shocking for her to deal with it. Now I'm very sure that she was very sad when she had hit us, because my father told me that afterwards she was always completely upset. I think that she ― and my father thinks the same by the way ― was destined to be unhappy. She had to be abused as a child, one way or another. She really couldn't show love. She just couldn't handle it. I love my mother. I've always loved my mother. I've always understood that she didn't mean it that way, even when she hit me. I've never hated her; I've never had a grudge against her. I've always understood that she suffered herself and that she didn't know what she was doing."


In 1985, O'Connor signs with Ensign Records and relocates to London. She lands her first major gig: vocals and co-writing duties on the song "Heroine" with U2's the Edge for the soundtrack to the film, Captive. In 1986, she begins work on her own debut, The Lion and the Cobra, but everything comes to a screeching halt when she becomes pregnant by her drummer, John Reynolds. She tells Hot Press years later that when she confesses her pregnancy to the studio, they send her to a doctor who pressures her to abort. "I was only 19 and freaked and all, this doctor said to me, 'Your record company has spent one hundred thousand quid recording your record, and you owe it to them not to have the baby.' And then he tried to convince me that terrible things would happen to the baby, for example, if I went out on tour while I was pregnant, or got on an airplane or whatever, that the baby would be ill. Not that it would die, but that it would be born mentally handicapped. I swear on a stack of Bibles that that's literally what happened." O'Connor bows to the pressure and goes to have the abortion, but decides at the last minute to keep the baby and returns to work on her record. The original recording is deemed "too Celtic" and scrapped, so O'Connor, seven months pregnant, produces the album herself. Her son Jake and The Lion and the Cobra both made their debut in 1987, the same year that O'Connor starts to cement her reputation as a shit disturber, calling out U2 repeatedly over the next few years as she does press for her album, becoming the new face of Irish music. She denounces Bono and the band as hypocrites and frauds.

Adam Clayton responds to Hot Press in 1989 about O'Connor's onslaught of attacks and is sceptical about her chance for success in the future. "The fact of the matter is that we went to a lot of trouble to help Sinéad's career in the early days. And that's what you do, if you can," Clayton says. "Now, for some reason, she cannot accept that and has had to lash out. But Bono in particular pioneered Sinéad. He went to a lot of trouble encouraging her; the Edge used her on the soundtrack for Captive; there were various negotiations with Ensign Records that Ossie Kilkenny was involved in ― so she's talking crap. I don't know why she's doing it. It's stupid. It's immature. She'll learn. But I know damn well that she won't be making records in ten years. I was interested in her because I thought she was a great talent and I thought she had a future. That's why you support people. Now I'm not so sure that she has what it takes to last."

1990 to 1992
Though O'Connor earns one Grammy nomination for her debut, her major breakthrough arrives courtesy of her second album, I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got, and her cover of Prince's "Nothing Compares 2 U," the signature break-up song of Generation X. Its accompanying video is simple but devastating for the time: mostly just a close-up of the bald beauty's sweet, elf-like face, tears welling up in big, sad eyes until two artfully escape down her cheeks. She speaks the devastation of the soul, she wears a big black trench coat and isn't one of those ugly criers. Overnight, O'Connor becomes the unlikely symbol of countless members of the disenfranchised: sad waif; angry rebel; new feminist; raging bitch; defiant politico. She begins to speak publicly about the childhood trauma of her abusive mother and child advocacy. She capitalizes on her increasing fame, using it to leverage her political and social beliefs, likening herself to singer/songwriters from the '60s who spoke out against Vietnam and in favour of civil rights. In May, she backs out of a scheduled Saturday Night Live appearance because shock-douche comedian Andrew Dice Clay is hosting, and in August refuses to allow the national anthem to be played before her concert in New Jersey (Frank Sinatra, who is performing the next night in the same venue, publicly threatens to kick her in the ass).

In 1991, despite being nominated for several awards, she boycotts the Grammy Awards on the grounds of "extreme commercialism." According to CraveOnline, it is the first time in Grammy history that an artist refuses to accept the awards. In July, she releases a four-song EP, My Special Child, benefiting the Red Cross program to help Kurdish children. In September, in a Spin interview, she admits the boycott is also in protest of the bombing in the Middle East and reveals that the song "My Special Child" is about an abortion she had in 1990, which was preceded by three miscarriages. A few weeks later, on Sept. 22, she releases her third album, Am I Not Your Girl?, a collection of jazz standards that she grew up singing. Critics accuse her of squandering her fame because the album, a total departure from her breakthrough, fails to build on that momentum.



The album is eclipsed thanks to O'Connor's career-defining/derailing performance on Saturday Night Live on Oct. 3. At the end of her rendition of Bob Marley's "War," O'Connor holds up a picture of Pope John Paul II, tears it in pieces, and says, "Fight the real enemy." It is a stunning moment ― for both the audience and the SNL crew ― that results in massive public outrage. A few people throw their support behind O'Connor, praising her bold efforts to raise awareness about the massive corruption in the Roman Catholic Church and its disgusting cover-up of widespread sexual abuse within the diocese. Most, though, see her act as sacrilege, and the outcry reaches a feverish point of almost mass hysteria two weeks later when she's scheduled to perform at a Bob Dylan tribute concert. The audience turns on her so harshly that she's forced off the stage in tears. Legendary singer/songwriter and actor Kris Kristofferson, who was organizing the tribute, shares his recollection of that night in an interview with the Charleston City Paper in 2010, while doing press for his newest album, Closer to the Bone, which contains his song "Sister Sinead," a tribute to freedom of speech and the Irish singer/songwriter. "I've never ever seen everybody boo somebody. I'd never heard anything like it," Kristofferson recalls. "The guy who was runnin' the stage came up to me and he said, 'Get her off the stage ― now.' It shocked me so bad, I walked up there to her and said to her, 'Don't let the bastards get you down.' And it went over the microphone! She said, 'I'm not down' and sang this other song, and then she wheeled around and she was so shocked I guess by what they were doing, she threw up on the stage. She may be wrong, but she may not be, you know? I've never seen an audience turn on a person like that."

The Roman Catholic Church may be O'Connor's public enemy number one, but Madonna does her best to ingratiate herself into the debacle. The singer/songwriter, who's often accused of sacrilegious behaviour herself, repeatedly attacks O'Connor in the press and tells the Irish Times, "I think there is a better way to present her ideas rather than ripping up an image that means a lot to other people." When Madonna appears on SNL Jan. 16, 1993 she holds up a picture of Joey Buttafuoco and tears it up, saying, "Fight the real enemy."

1993 to 1999
The long-term fallout from O'Connor's actions shuttles her out of the limelight, at least in North America. In Ireland, she continues to be a polarizing figure for her criticism of the Roman Catholic Church and its complicity in prolonging the suffering of children through sexual abuse. She tours and records with former Genesis singer/songwriter Peter Gabriel and the two become romantically involved. It's rumoured that the rocky nature of their relationship (O'Connor later tells Hot Press, "I was his weekend pussy. I wasn't a girlfriend.") drives O'Connor to a breakdown and suicide attempt. She opens up about the suicide attempt to Q magazine the following year while doing press for her fourth album, Universal Mother, explaining how she broke down in a hotel room and swallowed sleeping pills and a bottle of vodka. "When I woke up, I was glad that I was alive." In the same interview, she divulges more details of her mother's abuse, which is alluded to on the album's second track, "Fire on Babylon." She recalls how her mother would "make me take all my clothes off and force me to lie on the floor and she would stamp on my abdomen with the intention of bursting my womb. That's what she said, 'I'm going to burst you.'" The album fails to reignite her career and she tours with Lollapalooza but leaves the festival when she becomes pregnant with her second child. Daughter Roisin is born in 1996, and a bitter custody battle begins the following year with the father, Irish journalist John Waters.

O'Connor further retreats from the public eye to explore her spirituality. She reveals a softer side on her 1997 EP, Gospel Oak, telling The New York Times, "If Universal Mother was a prayer, then these are the answer. In that sense, the songs are also hymns. I also like the idea of calling it Gospel Oak, because the oak is a symbol of the worship of the mother. So it's the gospel of the mother.'' O'Connor's seemingly volatile relationship with Christianity peaks in 1999; seven years after tearing up the Pope's picture and derailing her promising career, O'Connor becomes Mother Bernadette Mary, an ordained priestess of the Irish Orthodox Catholic and Apostolic Church, an independent Catholic group. In a BBC interview she apologizes for the SNL debacle, saying "I'm sorry I did that, it was a disrespectful thing to do. I have never even met the Pope. I am sure he is a lovely man. It was more an expression of frustration." Her new religious designation does little to quell the troubled singer's personal life. She and Waters continue their war of words over Roisin, and O'Connor attempts suicide again on her 33rd birthday.


 2000 to 2003
In the liner notes to O'Connor's fourth album, Faith and Courage, she writes "Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit as it was in the Beginning. Is now and ever shall be. World without end. Jah! Rastafari! Read I! This record is dedicated to all Rastafari people..."

The album is eclipsed again by O'Connor's personal life. A week before the record's debut, O'Connor announces her homosexuality on the cover of lesbian magazine Curve. In her interview, she reveals "I'm a lesbian... I haven't been very open about that, and throughout most of my life I've gone out with blokes because I haven't necessarily been terribly comfortable about being a lesbian. But I actually am a lesbian." Within months, she begins to backtrack from that statement and in 2001 marries journalist Nicholas Sommerland.

In 2001, she reports musician Shane McGowan to the police for drug possession. The two remain friends and will discuss the matter in an interview with Hot Press in 2007:

Shane: The one argument we did have, you were actually right.

Sinead: I can't even remember what it was about. What did we argue about?

Shane: About the smack... [Laughs]

Sinead: Ah yeah! Even then, we didn't actually argue...

Shane: No, no. You just went to the cops...

Sinead: Quite happily. But we didn't have an argument about it.

In 2002, she releases her fifth album, a collection of Irish folk songs, Sean-Nós Nua, which translates as In the True Old Style. Critics praise her relaxed confidence, and though it isn't a major hit, it signals the most stable version of O'Connor yet. But 2003 proves to be a year of major highs and lows: O'Connor contributes a song to a Dolly Parton tribute album, releases a double album of B-sides and a live concert, She Who Dwells in the Secret Place of the Most High Shall Abide Under the Shadow of the Almighty, and announces her retirement from music. In a message to her fans, she writes: 


"This being a very special anniversary for me, I have chosen it to announce that as of July 2003 I shall be retiring from the music business. In order to pursue a different career. The last recordings I will make will be (believe it or not) a track for Dolly Parton's upcoming tribute album and a track for Sharon Shannon's forthcoming album. These will be recorded in May. In July I will be releasing a DVD of a live show and documentary featuring tracks from way back along with tracks from Sean Nos Nua. The DVD will be entitled Goodnight, thankyou. You've been a lovely audience. And so ye have. I wish here to thank everyone who has been a fan and or supporter of mine over the last 22 years in the music business (first record at 14, deal at 17. Half of first album wrote when 15). As well as all the people whom I have had the honour of working with. Not least the great Dolly Parton herself! Thanks to all of ye for a great time and a great education. I would request that as of July, since I seek no longer to be a 'famous' person, and instead I wish to live a 'normal' life, could people please afford me my privacy. By which I mean I would like not to have exploitation of my self or my name or anyone connected with me by newspapers. I also mean that (with love) I want to be like any other person in the street and not have people say there is Sinead O'Connor. As I am a very shy person, believe it or not. So I ask with love, that I be left in peace and privacy by people who love my records too. And I hope it doesn't sound rude. It ain't meant rude. I am glad that ye are helped by my songs. So help me too, by giving me what is best for me, a private life. My advise to anyone who ever admires a so-called 'celebrity' if u see them in the street, don't even look at them. If u love them, then the lovingest thing u can do to show them so is leave them alone and don't stare at them! Or bang on restaurant windows when they in there. Or make them get their picture taken, or write their names on bits of paper. That's pieces of them. And one day they wake up with nothing left of themselves to give. Love, peace, and don't 4get to pray y'all."

In a 2007 interview with The Age, O'Connor recalls her decision to retire, saying "I was wading through these walls of prejudice and false ideas about me and I found it really painful. It was very abusive and I was suicidal over it for years. I thought I was a total piece of shit and I got to the point when I felt I couldn't carry it any longer. When you go to work, you shouldn't be made to feel like crying." A little more than a month after announcing her retirement, O'Connor discovers she's pregnant with her third child. The baby, Shane, is conceived with fellow musician Donal Lunny, who leaves O'Connor when she's just eight weeks along.


2004 to 2010
O'Connor is finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder (which she'll reveal publicly three years later on the Oprah Winfrey Show). The medication seems to help, as O'Connor retreats to focus on her family and her home life, but her retirement is short-lived. In June 2005, she releases an album of collaborations, appropriately enough titled Collaborations, featuring recordings with a variety of artists including U2, former lover Peter Gabriel, Massive Attack and The The. Just five months later, she releases a reggae covers album, Throwdown Your Arms, inspired by her newfound interest in Rastafarianism. In 2006, O'Connor becomes embroiled in a very public dispute involving her new lover, Frank Bonadio, and his estranged wife, Irish singer Mary Coughlan. The histrionics between the two women play out through mudslinging in the tabloids and a series of threatening texts that are published by The Independent, confirming that O'Connor still has a way with words: "Be very afraid, by the time I'm finished, you will be crying for your Mummy. I eat crazy bitches like you for breakfast." O'Conner becomes pregnant with her fourth child, Yeshua, but ends the relationship with Bonadio shortly after the baby is born due to the ensuing issues with Coughlan. They reunite a few months later and stay together for four years.

In 2007 O'Connor releases Theology, an album of mostly new songs inspired by the Old Testament. In an interview with Spinner, she explains that her ongoing interest in Rastafarian culture is separate from her Catholicism and calls out Oasis for letting Prime Minister Tony Blair stroke their egos. "A lot of people think [Rastafarianism] is a religion ― it's not. It's an anti-political movement. We believe politics is the problem, actually. So I don't believe in politics. I wouldn't even vote, 'cause I just think they're all wankers, every one of them. None of them give a s*** about anyone or anything. OK, I'm sure there are one or two who do, but they don't get elected anyway. But also I get nervous when I see musicians getting involved with politicians. Fair enough you want to write a political song, but when you get to the stage, for example, of having your picture taken with George Bush you're bringing music into disrepute, in my opinion ... because music exists partly to challenge those authorities. And if you start becoming friends with those authorities, then how are you going to challenge them? So it makes me uncomfortable, like when Tony Blair was elected into office, suddenly he's inviting Oasis around for tea and Oasis are going because the politicians are very clever, they're playing on our vanities."

2010
O'Connor resurfaces with a new song collaboration with Mary J. Blige in support of an organization called GEMS (Girls Education & Mentoring Services), which empowers women ages 12 to 21 who are victims of sex trafficking or sexual abuse. O'Connor and Bonadio's relationship ends, and she suddenly marries her bandmate, Steve Cooney, in July. They announce their marriage on O'Connor's blog: "We who run this site are very happy to announce the marriage of Steve Cooney and Sinéad O'Connor has taken place this morning. Thanks be to the Great Lord Jah. Rastafarai. Dread I. Conquering Lion I. One love."

2011
Happiness is short-lived: in the early part of 2011, some suicidal-sounding tweets have people predicting another breakdown and O'Connor publicly admitting her uncertainty about coping with motherhood. Simultaneously, her marriage to Cooney is ending after just eight months. She tells the Daily Mail, "Steve is lovely so it's not his fault but mine. It was an extremely happy marriage. I'm heartbroken about it breaking up." She goes on to say that her recent weight gain, from her bipolar prescription medication, is also a factor. "I didn't mind putting on weight ― the problem is strangers telling me I was fat. That was hard on our marriage." Just a few months later, news that O'Connor is planning a "comeback" gains momentum as she begins performing intimate shows. Her appearance is criticized, but there's strong industry buzz about the new album. In an interview with Hot Press, she says it's a "very personal album, as most of my stuff tends to be. The album was written between 2007 and 2009, when I was going out with Frank, actually. So really any kind of love songs that are on there are about him. Probably most of the songs are inspired by him." Advance press and hype about the new records is side-tracked in August, when O'Connor writes on her website and twitter that she's looking for a "sweet, sex-starved man," and makes clear her sexual appetite is quite diverse: "Yes I 'do anal' and in fact I would be deeply unhappy if 'doing anal' wasn't on the menu, amongst everything else$$ So if u don't like 'the difficult brown' don't apply..." and that women "will also be very much considered."

 
On Sept. 14, O'Connor publicly ponders suicide in a series of tweets, which are reported widely: "All this shit we're not supposed to say. Including suicidal feelings, sex, etc. U just get treated like a crazy person. I want to go to heaven SO bad. Have for yrs ... Can't manage any more. Badly wish cud die without it ruining my kids lives." The ensuing result is a public debate about O'Connor's health, the safety of her children, and plenty of gossip fodder, which O'Connor addresses in an open letter on her website on Sept. 17.

On Sept. 26, O'Connor takes to her blog again to clarify that she is not bipolar, but has been re-diagnosed as "situationally depressed" and has been taking medicine for eight years for a condition from which she does not suffer. The next day, also on her blog, O'Connor lashes out at those who have criticized her: "Nasty people say I'm looking for attention, talking about suicidal feelings. Yes. Maybe I am looking for attention. Because I'd like to stay alive. And the ways in which nasty judgemental people might feel I should have tried instead of speaking out, I've already done them all. Suicidal feelings are not always a symptom of 'crazy'-ness... Or a medical problem. They're often a spiritual problem, or simply a person is being treated like shit and can't handle it. Or a person is lonely. 'Lonely' is now another word people use as a term of abuse. Sometimes a person feeling suicidal just needs to be loved. And shown how precious and priceless they are. Anyway. Am guna write. Because in my country there is no help because if u say u feel suicidal people label u crazy. Or run. I would never act on suicidal feelings OTHER THAN BY WRITING. And I'm guna do that because it will keep me alive. I'm not always guna write depressing shit. I'm just tellling u today, how it feels to be treated as nasty people have treated me for the last six weeks or so. And the previous 25 yrs... I can't just not be able to share it when it comes. People do run. Or say 'don't say that' and literally don't want to talk about it. Sure how would anyone know what to say? They get confused too. Cus once they know for sure u won't act on it. They think that's it sorted. But to me it's about quality of life. It isn't enuff for me to be sure (which I am) that I would never attempt suicide again. I did once. It was almost successful. When I woke in the hospital I was relieved it hadn't worked because it would have destroyed my sister. I hadn't considered that before. Cus suicidal people are so because we think we're shit and unloveable. But we're not."

On Oct. 10, O'Connor reveals that her new album, the first in five years, will finally be released in Feb. 2012 and will now be called How About I Be Me (And You Be You?), instead of its original title, Home.

On Oct. 21, she announces her "manhunt" is over and that she has a new boyfriend, Barry Herridge, an addiction counsellor. In a Dec. 5 interview with Hot Press, O'Connor looks back over her romantic history, admitting, "I think it's too easy to get married. Like, I've been married three times, really I should only have been married once. And no one should be married more than fuckin' twice, to be honest. I don't regret my first marriage, but I do regret the second. They are lovely people and I've no complaints about them as people, or whatever. But it was ― and I'm sure they'd say the same ― it was too easy to rush into something. They should make it more difficult to get married." Despite this, she marries Herridge in a Las Vegas wedding chapel on Dec. 9, a day after her 45th birthday, and posts a wedding announcement on her website: "Am blogging this cus media people are naturally seeking me. On Sunday I will put up blog on whole day. Too glorious for words. For now though, as you will appreciate, it's a bit of a 'Can't. Talk. C--k. In. Mouth.' situation. Xxx."

According to O'Connor herself, the marriage is over almost before it begins, when later that night she brings her new husband along on a wild goose chase for marijuana. Instead, O'Connor ends up with crack. O'Connor blames pressure from Herridge's family and the drugs for their separation just 18 days later. In the meantime, there's one bright spot professionally: the song O'Connor performs on the Albert Nobbs' soundtrack is nominated for a Golden Globe on Dec. 15.

2012
As of Jan. 3, O'Connor and Herridge reunite. But on Jan. 11, O'Connor again takes to twitter with her suicidal impulses. This time, she asks for help, stating "Does any1 know a psychiatrist in Dublin or Wicklow who could urgently see me today please? Im really un-well....and in danger" and "I desperately need to get back on meds today. am in serious danger." She later admits that on Jan. 5 she had overdosed on pills in an unsuccessful suicide attempt. On Jan. 13, O'Connor announces that she and Herridge are divorcing and swears off love. Finally, on Jan. 18, O'Connor checks in to the hospital and begins treatment for her depression. On Jan. 26, her blog reveals that she will be making videos of her covers of Bob Dylan's Christian songs. She returns to Twitter on Jan. 27, but with a new, "private" account (@vampyahslayah7) intended to keep out media. O'Connor is scheduled to start touring Feb. 20, the same day How About I Be Me (And You Be You?) is released.


Essentials

I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got (Ensign/Chrysalis, 1990)
Five years before Alanis stuck one hand in her pocket, Sinéad O'Connor was penning confessional, heart-on-her-trenchcoat-sleeve, alt-rock odes and indictments about love, pain, injustice and religion. I Do Not Want What I Haven't Got was hijacked by the overwhelming success of her soulful, sad cover of Prince's "Nothing Compares 2 U," but the rest of the tracks signal a woman with an almost unworldly talent, lyrically and vocally. Every song is choked with words and concepts and themes, but it never feels like overkill thanks to O'Connor's unique voice: she tears at the phrases like an lioness opening up the flesh of its prey.

Sean-Nós Nua (Vanguard, 2002)
Ten years after O'Connor tore up the Pope's picture on Saturday Night Live, she was still mostly out of favour with North American audiences and was both a source of pride and pain in her native Ireland. Sean-Nós Nua, O'Connor's only album of Irish traditionals and folk songs, plays as equal parts penance and ode. Her voice is warm and inviting, and her charming accent curls around the penny whistles and fiddles, capturing moments both whimsical and darkly longing. The collection is O'Connor glancing back at her life, and taking a few tentative steps towards a achieving a peace between herself and her homeland.

How About I Be Me (And You Be You?) (Relativity, 2012)
O'Connor's comeback is chock full of songs that American Idol contestants can't wait to get their hands on ― soulful and sad, with brief punctuation marks of happy, fragile hope. There's also an urgency and purpose that O'Connor has been missing in recent years: it's like she's been awakened from a long coma and is shaking off the slumber. The album's opener, "4th and Vine" is easily one of the best songs of the year: fun, frisky and a vintage-inspired throwback with a rockabilly edge.

The Shins

My online news story with James Mercer of the Shins, a preview before the print feature in April.

James Mercer Talks the Shins' 'Port of Morrow'

James Mercer Talks the Shins' 'Port of Morrow' 

By Andrea Warner 

It's been five long years since the Shins' Wincing the Night Away proved just how far the Portland-based band had moved beyond indie obscurity. Buoyed by the 2004 film Garden State, as the band Natalie Portman promised would "change your life," the Shins lead singer-songwriter James Mercer was suddenly an icon to millions who loved his brand of poetic indie pop: dark lyrics steeped in metaphor contrasted with hooky choruses and breezy melodies.

Then suddenly Mercer made a radical shift, forming a new collaboration with hip-hop producer/songwriter Danger Mouse, aka Brian Burton. As Broken Bells, the duo released a hugely successful full-length and toured extensively, leaving Shins fans to wonder if their beloved band would be another casualty of the indie-goes-mainstream boom. Even Mercer himself wasn't sure.

"Yes, there was that thought [of quitting the Shins]," he admits in a recent interview with Exclaim!, weeks before the release of the band's fourth album, Port of Morrow. "But I love the thing I've created with the Shins. It would have been hard to give that up and just let it die. And I realized that wasn't necessary. There's no reason why I can't do it the way I want to do it."

Welcome to Shins 2.0. As several leaked tracks from Port of Morrow have proved, there are sonic surprises everywhere: fuzzed-out guitars, thumping bass lines, spacey beeps and blips, '80s keyboards and countless other flourishes. For the first time, Mercer's vocals aren't hidden under layers of instrumentation. And despite Mercer now being the Shins only remaining original member, this is the sound of confidence.

"This is the first Shins thing where I had a producer [Greg Kurstin] there who had a really strong aesthetic impact," Mercer says. "One of the things you have to do in order to collaborate with people is be comfortable with them knowing how good or bad you are, what your limits are. It was really a lack of confidence that caused me to do everything secretly in my room and record everything alone because I was afraid -- well, I was just nervous to go out there and work with 'real' musicians, you know?

"I've developed a bit of confidence, and man, working with Brian was huge in that respect. It gave me a lot of confidence to work with somebody so talented and yet he respected me. He knows very well and what my skills are; we've worked together for a long time and will continue to. It's a real boost."

Port of Morrow will be released on March 20 via Mercer's own imprint Aural Apothecary/Columbia Records. In support of the new album, the Shins have rolled out some U.S. tour dates, which you can view here.

Gurl Twenty Three

From WE, Mar. 1

MUSIC: Gurl Twenty Three keeps the ‘Beat’

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By Andrea Warner

A generation of artisans quietly came of age over the last few years at Vancouver’s grunt gallery. They produced the Beat Nation project — originally an exhibition and a website — to showcase the artistic influence of urban youth culture on aboriginal culture. The project hit a nerve. It’s since evolved to include a performance art/hip hop musical collective featuring Kinnie Starr, and last week launched a full-scale, mainstream exhibit at the venerable Vancouver Art Gallery. Beat Nation: Art, Hip Hop and Aboriginal Culture features 20 artists and innovators from across the continent.

And several of those artists are from right here in Vancouver, some of whom were on hand for a media walk-through last Thursday. One woman in particular caught my eye: short and solid, with a feather twisted into one of the long braids coming down each side of her face. She looked tough, but when she smiled everything sparkled with a kind of radiance that made me stop thinking she’d like to kick my ass. Larissa Healey, AKA Gurl Twenty Three, is a street artist who made her rap debut just a few weeks ago at the PuSh Festival. Now, the mural she co-created with Corey Bulpill is on the wall at the VAG. Healey still can’t quite believe that this is how her life is turning out. Standing in a room filled with art by her peers that mixes past and present traditions, Healey opened up about her art, finding her voice and overcoming the darkest aspects of her troubled past.

Your stage name references 23. Was that age a turning point for you?
In our culture, suicide is a big issue. I had no identity, I was sad, I was an alcoholic. In [dealing with my suicidal issues], I realized how incredibly greedy suicide was and that people cared about me and I survived. I marked it [rolls up a sleeve to reveal an ornate tattoo spread across her upper arm]. It’s pretty heavy, so I try not to share that with many youth. I tell the right ones, the ones who are ready for that. It’s not the easiest thing to talk about, but it makes them feel — not that it’s  “common,” but it is something that happens in the world that surrounds us with the oppression and colonization.

How did you discover the best way to express yourself creatively in both music and visual arts?
I was always taking anything in my environment and manipulating it, whether it be finding mud in my backyard and sculpting or ripping gypwall out of the wall or going to the beach and finding a piece of coal and scratching on something, anything, finding cardboard in the alleys and chopping it up. It just kept the momentum going. Then my adopted father gave me a spray can and I grabbed it from him and then it was on after that! I followed the AA Crew, Aerosal Assassins, the first graffiti crew in Vancouver, and met them over time and worked with them individually and learned from them.

What about the music? Where did that come from?
There was another turning point with a lot of drugs, a lot of alcohol. My teeth were starting to go from substance abuse. I quit everything cold turkey. I got braces and my mouth changed, so I had no voice, I was only visual. I put those two together and learned how to re-use my mouth. My tongue was pretty mangled from the braces, so I started rapping, practising using my voice. The group of people I was working with have a pretty aggressive lifestyle and I was the female on the team, so to speak, and I thought, maybe I can express myself to them: let’s celebrate being alive and being a woman. I relearned how to use my mouth, I relearned how to have a voice, and then I rapped the song, ‘I’m a Hood Diva.’ And then Paul Armstrong, from Beat Nation Live, heard it and said, “You’re doing it! You’re doing that song on stage, you’re a part of the show!” That was it. I’ve never been on stage. It was just a couple weeks ago at the PuSh Festival. It was so beautiful. I never dreamed of having that experience!

This is a whole brand new world that you’re about to take on!
Being at this exhibition makes me feel confident, in our people and myself. I was bombing on the street one time and an elder came by and was like, “No, no. That’s not how you do it.” I looked at him and said, “Well, this is how we do it now.” And he said, “Ohhh!” (Laughs) To have him not be angry and have the elders see what we’re doing, it’s very important.

Larissa and Corey will be doing a graffiti mural live this weekend at Family FUSE Mar. 3-4. Beat Nation runs to June 3 at the Vancouver Art Gallery. Info: VanArtGallery.bc.ca.

Ashleigh Ball pulls double duty in Hey Ocean and My Little Pony Friendship is Magic

From WE, Mar. 1

Hey Ocean’s Ashleigh Ball ‘reins’ over My Little Pony


 

Being the lead singer of an indie rock band brings its own unique experiences — road warrior fatigue, playing dingy bars, bad pick-up lines. But Hey Ocean’s Ashleigh Ball has an entirely different, not-so-secret second life, that makes being a rock star seem almost normal. As the voices of Applejack, Rainbow Dash and more, Ball is saddle-deep in the animated world of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. And that’s where things start to get a little — well, strange.

“It’s pretty weird! That whole thing has just gone crazy,” Ball says, over the phone, having ducked inside a coffee shop to escape the Vancouver rain.

In part, she’s referring to how the cartoon television series — just one of her many voice-acting gigs — is not only hugely popular with its target audience of children, but is also an underground pop culture phenomenon for grown men, known as Bronies. Media outlets all over North America have reported on the craze, which has spawned huge online followings and real-life groups, as well as BronyCons. Yes, conventions dedicated to the television series. It’s where Ball found herself this past January, feted as a guest of honour for her voice-acting work.

“It was pretty crazy,” she laughs. “I actually brought a friend of mine along to document it... I was hoping they would be okay with him coming, and the organizer, a person named Purple Tinker, was like, ‘Of course!’ They paid for him to come as well and treated me like royalty! They put us up in this fancy hotel and I just got to talk about being a pony... He’s going to put together some stuff for a trailer and we’ve got some work to do on it. It was very, very bizarre.”

It’s not the future Ball envisioned for herself as a kid interested in musical theatre.

“I went to a fine arts mini school and did a lot of improv and theatre,” she says. After graduating from the Canadian College for the Performing Arts, she performed in a talent showcase and was scooped up by an agent who ended up representing her at the beginning of her voice career.

“I was originally signed to do TV and film stuff and theatre, but I didn’t have very much success with that,” she laughs. “It’s not something I really ever wanted to do that much. I get a bit camera shy, and I’m not that striking beauty they’re looking for, so the voice work seemed to be the right fit. I was super lucky to get my foot in the door; it’s a really small community of people in Vancouver that do it. I work with people time and time again, it’s very close-knit. I landed some of my first roles six years ago, and then slowly built a bit of a name for myself among the voice directors. And now being a part of a series, like My Little Pony, that’s going crazy, it’s pretty cool.”

For Ball, it’s a weird culmination of six years of hard work, most of which has been also spent balancing her increasingly demanding role in Hey Ocean, one of Vancouver’s hardest working and most popular bands.

“Music is my number one passion and I’ve always wanted to pursue it,” Ball says. “Being in a band takes an incredible amount of commitment, but a lot of musicians have to have side jobs. All the guys in our band have side jobs, whether it’s teaching music or working at a coffee shop or whatever. It’s hard to be a full-time musician, so this is really incredible. It gives me the freedom to not have a full-time job. If I go into the studio once or twice a week, that’s my rent for the month.”

Second jobs might not be the reality for Hey Ocean in the near future. The band has a management deal with Nettwerk Records and recently signed to Universal as their Canadian label. The new album, their major label debut, is expected sometime this summer and they’re about to set out on a coast-to-coast Canadian tour for the month of March. While Ball is grateful for the momentum in both aspects of her creative/professional life, she admits that juggling both isn’t easy.

“It can be a struggle. I use my voice for everything. It’s all I do. That’s kind of weird to think about!” she laughs. “[When we’re on tour], I usually have to come back and do a bunch of scripts I’ve missed out on and then go back on the road. You have to make it work. I’m getting a steady income from the voice-over world and if I do a series, obviously they expect me to be there part of the time. Sometimes I’ve felt like I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. I’ve lost a couple series because of my schedule. It sucks... But I love both of these things so much. They’re both so important to me. I try to keep people happy and keep myself happy.”

The Belle Game

From WE, Feb. 23

The Belle Game warms up Winterruption

By Andrea Warner

Try listening to the title single off Vancouver-based band The Belle Game’s most recent EP, Sleep to Grow, and discover what thousands of people already know: sometimes beautiful music takes six, seven, even eight sets of hands. What began as a three-piece in 2009 with Adam Nanji, Andrea Lo, and Alex Andrew, just kept growing. And growing. And growing. Now Katrina Jones, Rob Chursinoff, and Ian Cook are regular members, though Cook has recently taken some personal time so Marcus Abramzik is filling in. And one can’t forget the Ruffled Feathers’ Andrew Lee, the unofficial seventh member who provides key Belle Game songs their trademark brass flourishes. Wrangling all seven together for an interview is nigh impossible, so Nanji spoke with WE in advance of the band’s show with Aidan Knight this Saturday, Feb. 25, as part of the Winterruption arts and culture festival at Granville Island, giving the scoop about their debut album (three years in the making!), playing in L.A. and why Montreal is second-best to Vancouver.

What’s your background?
I’ve always been a music geek; in high school I used to hang out in the band room. When it came time to pick a university to go to, which I promised my parents I would do, I thought, I’m going to go to Montreal because that’s where music is. I really wanted to be a part of a music scene and a music community, and that’s why Montreal seemed like such a good fit. Which it ended up not being. It’s a different type of music community. It’s amazing, artistic and people are there to live and do art, but it’s very insular.


Vancouver’s indie music community seems pretty supportive, at least as an outsider looking in.
For sure. There’s a tight-knit community in both cities, but the bands in Vancouver want to foster that community and bring other bands in. When we first met David Ortesi of Hey Ocean, he invited us to go on tour. Hey Ocean, Dan Mangan and Mother Mother kind of started this new wave of the Vancouver indie music scene, but they’re so willing to help everyone. It’s really cool.


You’re playing Winterruption and tour all over. You have an audience that follows you — even without a first album.  Is this just the new reality of emerging bands?
I think it is. I mean, we could get into a big discussion about the relevance of the album in modern music. But people are so excited about music here and they come to shows. They really appreciate seeing things now that there are lots of venues and we get to play a lot. That’s what really gets to people: the live show. Which is strange, because so many bands have blown up on the internet with just a couple singles. But Vancouver has created this special, safe place where bands can actually play 40-minute sets and that’s how people become fans.


Sleep to Grow was supposed to be your debut full-length. What happened?
We recorded enough material to do a full-length, but we were writing newer songs and realized that older stuff wasn’t really who the band was anymore. We recorded all of our growing pains onto an album that will never get heard. Now we’re going in at the end of this month to hopefully finish the last half of the [new] album, which should be ready by September at the latest.


You were in L.A. recently. What was going on?
We were doing a music supervision showcase. The lovely Music BC people took some B.C. bands down to L.A. and into the NBC studios and we played for the people who put music in all their TV shows. We were really nervous to go down and play in an office and they were some of the nicest people we’ve met as a band! They were super supportive. They helped set up the PA in their office, they talked about their experiences licensing bands and music. We were expecting a room full of suits at a big long wooden table and they would, like, judge us but in the best way they were just music geeks.


The Belle Game perform with Aidan Knight Feb. 25 at Performance Works, 8pm. $15-$18 from NorthernTickets.com.

Said the Whale

From WE, Feb. 16

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Said the Whale reaches new heights on new album

Grant Lawrence has championed them, audiences have flocked to their shows, WE readers chose them as their favourite local band and their journey to South By Southwest music festival even got the documentary treatment from the CBC. Now, in just a few short weeks, the Vancouver-based, indie rock five-piece Said the Whale will release its third full-length album, Little Mountain. And if putting out an album and plotting a massive tour weren’t hard enough, the band’s also got an ambitious project to release a music video for every song on the record every Tuesday starting now and spanning 13 weeks, although local fans can see all the videos at a special listening party/screening at the Rio Theatre Feb. 25. WE spoke with co-singer/songwriter Tyler Bancroft about balancing art and commerce, his love of Elvis and little league baseball.

Where’d you come up with the idea for doing a video for every song?
We Are the City did a video for every song on their EP last March and worked with Amazing Factory as well... When you put out an album, you try to drum up all this anticipation, but it feels like a lot of times, the release date comes and you get all excited and then that’s kinda it. We thought if we did a video for every song and release a new one every Tuesday for 13 weeks, it will keep the ball rolling. As much as it was a creative decision to do a video for every song, it was also a business decision.


I’ve noticed that about other Vancouver bands — there’s real innovation regarding the ephemera of music.
Without a doubt. We’re over here on the West Coast; we’ve got to differentiate ourselves from the hubbub of Toronto.


What inspired you to name your album after my neighbourhood?
It’s my neighbourhood, too! Four of us live, more or less, in Little Mountain. I’m more Mt. Pleasant, but I grew up playing Little Mountain baseball. Little Mountain is also one of the top place names in Canada, but we wanted to name the record something that resonated with us at home but also make a connection for people not from Vancouver.


Where are you taking your inspiration from?
Oh man, honestly a lot of my musical inspiration comes from a lot of the bands we’ve met and toured with the last couple years. We Are the City, Aidan Knight, Dan Mangan, Mother Mother, Tokyo Police Club, Hey Rosetta!, the Arkells, Born Ruffians, Yukon Blonde, Hannah Georgas. We listen to all those guys all the time in our tour van. It’s a ridiculous Canadian playlist.


So was singing your first love, or did you play an instrument?
I grew up loving music. The first music I was really into was ’50s and ’60s pop. I was a huge Elvis fan. I was actually an Elvis fan before I was a Beatles fan, so there that is. (Laughs) I played a bit of piano but I never learned to read music, I was more interested in ear-training. My musical background is just a wanton desire to play music rather than being classically trained or anything like that. I’m a lover of pop music, so I write songs that I want to hear.

So you’re self-taught?
Yeah. I’ve had a band, in some incarnation, since I was 12 years old. Rocking out in my parents’ basement, much to their chagrin. We played stuff inspired by Everclear, the usual alternative ’90s rock. Everclear was my band as a kid, and I was huge into Our Lady Peace. And then when I became a teenager, it was punk rock through and through. I discovered NOFX and that was it for me, it was punk rock for the next five years, and then I just opened my mind. (Laughs) Because punk rock can be very close-minded at times.

Where should people listen to your album in Little Mountain for the full experience?
Well, the number one place for me would be the baseball diamond [at the base of Queen Elizabeth park, opposite the new curling rink]. That was a huge part of my life. When baseball season starts, they should go enjoy — and not to sound creepy — but they should go watch a little league game and get a delicious burger or hot dog from the concession stand, maybe a Freezie and maybe a Super Rope licorice, and that’s how they can best enjoy our record.

Said the Whale’s Little Mountain party happens Feb. 25 at Rio Theatre (1660 E. Broadway), 7pm. $10 from NorthernTickets.com.

 

Delhi 2 Dublin

From WE, Feb. 9

Delhi 2 Dublin return to Vancouver's CelticFest

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By Andrea Warner

In 2006, Sanjay Seran was recruited to play a one-off show at the CelticFest. Six years later, his band Delhi 2 Dublin is one of Vancouver’s most acclaimed live acts, touring the world over with its unique Bhangra-beats-Celtic-rock-world-fusion sound. In essence, D2D is the quintessential Vancouver band, a perfect sonic example of our multicultural mix. Seran spoke with WE about what it means to headline the festival that changed his life.

The band was supposed to be a one-off, but now it’s been six years. Why does D2D work?
Because we want it to. Any project can work if people are having fun and willing to put in the work. I think we’ve found that balance. We work our asses off on the business side of things, including the willingness to tour like mad, and then we work even harder at maintaining the relationships in the band. When it’s all said and done, we get on stage and have the time of our lives.


What’s the next album’s direction?
The focus for the next album is definitely on our song writing and the approach to the songs. We feel that in the past we’ve had some great song ideas with some great beats but have been a little lacking with regards to fully developed songs. So, for the last three months we have written just over 20 songs and we’ve done so more collectively than we ever have in the past resulting in what I think is a more refined and distinctive D2D sound. In the next two weeks we are going narrow down which songs are going to make the record, which ones get shelved, and which ones should never be heard by ears other than ours.


What elements are critical in separating “good” fusion from “bad” fusion?
The key is to not over think it. If it sounds good, go with it. There is no formula to make music and that still holds with fusion music. Once it starts to become contrived, I usually feel, it’s not going to work. All of us add our style and colour to whatever it is we may be working on and that keeps it organic, no one is faking it and thus it is real.

What does it mean to you to be able to cross genres and cultural divides with your music?It feels absolutely amazing. We’re able to make music which is truly Canadian and represents who we are as individuals. Growing up, there weren’t a whole lot of things that would represent both sides of who I was as a person, the little Punjabi kid and the kid who grew up in Richmond. Now to be able to make music that incorporates those elements and play it for audiences from all walks of life is a real blessing. A lot of the time the best feeling is when people don’t understand the lyrics yet they are totally lost in, and enjoying, the music because then you know it’s the music and emotion that is connecting with them — that sounds so cliche and lame but it really does feel awesome!

Delhi 2 Dublin plays Mar. 17 at the Vogue, 8pm. $30-$35 from VogueTheatre.com.

Rococode

So many late updates! From WE, Feb. 2

Rococode debuts ‘Guns, Sex and Glory’

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At Sled Island in Calgary last year, it seemed over half the bands had made the trek over the Rockies from Vancouver. Of those bands, Rococode proved something of a festival darling: tightly wound pop-rock that struck the perfect balance between aggressive and twee. And, oh, the precision. Laura Smith, Andrew Braun, Shaun Huberts and Johnny Andrews made Rococode sound like an act with six albums under their belts. In reality, they didn’t even have one yet — until now. Braun sat down with WE to discuss the long journey of Rococode’s fantastic debut, Guns, Sex and Glory (Feb. 7).

When I saw you play at Sled Island, I had no idea you hadn’t put out your first album.
It’s been done for a year, so we’ve just been sittin’ it on the shelf for the last little while, just trying to make sure all the pieces were in place. Finally we’re almost there.

Why has it taken a year to get it out there?
We finished it and then decided we didn’t want to just put out another album and have it get lost in the sea of indie bands. We got a publicist, an agent, a small label we’re going with through Winnipeg — just so we don’t have to do everything by ourselves.

It seems like a tremendous amount of work.
Definitely. A lot of sitting in front of the computer, unfortunately, and a lot of time waiting and wondering should we just put this thing out there and throw it up online and see what happens? Are we making the right decision by waiting and taking our time and making sure everything is proper, so to speak. And I feel like we did make the right decision. There are some people waiting for it or ready to listen to it now, as opposed to putting out an album and only having 50 of our friends interested and growing from there. Now at least there is a small number of people waiting for it. (Laughs)

Why did you decide to dedicate time and resources to the Rocoblog and the animated shorts?
It’s a really great way to express your personality and your ideas in a bunch of different ways. The animated videos were kind of a nice break — our music is pretty serious, and most of the photos we have up are us looking serious, and we’re not those people necessarily. It’s not all doom and gloom. It was nice to put something out there that was a continuation of our artistic expression and also humourous and weird. (Laughs) Personally, I thought those things were really funny, but maybe there were too many inside jokes. But, yeah, those were a crazy amount of work.
Rococode play the CBC Toque Sessions and Cafe Deux Soleils on Feb. 17. Full details at Rococode.com

Friday, February 10, 2012

Wilco review

My review of Wilco's fantastic show at the Orpheum is online at Exclaim.ca


Wilco

Orpheum, Vancouver BC February 5

Wilco - Orpheum, Vancouver BC February 5

By Andrea Warner 

Nine songs into one of the best shows the Orpheum has ever hosted, Wilco's Jeff Tweedy finally spoke to his rapt audience, most of whom had been on their feet from the moment the band took the stage. He spontaneously congratulated one couple on their engagement and guessed that another guy had recently lost a pet, jokingly explaining to the crowd that he was psychic.

Well, he might be. There's really no other way to explain how eerily prescient the band's set list proved to be for one disastrous relationship that imploded in halting highs and lows, distractingly, publicly, in the front row throughout Wilco's career-spanning two-hour set.

The drama began about 15 minutes before Tweedy and crew hit the stage, when some kind of argument -- the woman was furious, the man was attempting to cajole her into good spirits, it seemed -- escalated, and the woman suddenly slapped the man across the face. She stormed out and it seemed perhaps the drama was over before it began. Sadly, she came back just as the house lights dimmed and the overhead lights illuminated the beautiful stage design -- long ropes of knotted white cloths that looked like miniature homemade ghost costumes hanging in rows and rows.

The band opened with the beautiful Whole Love weeper "One Sunday Morning (Song for Jane Smiley's Boyfriend)." As Tweedy sang the chorus, "Outside I look lived in / Like the bones in a shrine / How am I forgiven? / Oh, I'll give it time," the man mouthed along, attempting to put his arm around the woman's shoulder, only to have her eventually shrug him off angrily. This continued through a stunning version of "Poor Places" and a psychedelic light display for the psych-rocking "Art of Almost," followed by the peppy, almost joyful "I Might."

As the couple's fighting continued, the band moved onto one of their biggest hits, "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," with the whole audience belting along with the soaring chorus. Tweedy's lyrical poignancy increased on the heart-breaking "Radio Cure" -- "All distance has a way of making love understandable" -- and the fight got physical again as the woman pushed the man about four feet and stormed over to security. After an intense discussion, which Tweedy seemed to watch out of the corner of his eye while he jammed on the guitar, security left them both where they were and Wilco kicked up the beat.

There was a little country edge of "Born Alone" before the band made their way to the stirring "I'll Fight," with Tweedy promising, "I'll fight, I'll fight, I'll fight, I'll fight for you / I'll kill, I'll kill, I'll kill, I'll kill for you / I will, I will, I will," and of course the man sang along while the woman shooed him away. When Wilco busted out "Via Chicago" and Tweedy sang, "I dreamed about killing you again last night / And it felt all right to me," he seemed to sing it in their direction pointedly, a gleam in his eye and a smile on his lips.

Security came by again for the couple -- and left almost as quickly -- just after Wilco came back for their encore following a thunderous standing ovation. Tweedy turned on his falsetto for a beautiful version of "Whole Love" before segueing into fan favourite "Heavy Metal Drummer." The big, bold finish came courtesy of the crashing crescendo of "Outtasight (Outta Mind)," the perfect end to an amazing show, and a fantastic kiss-off -- hopefully -- to love gone wrong.

Bahamas

My Bahamas feature is in this month's Exclaim and online.

Bahamas On the Mend

Bahamas On the Mend

By Andrea Warner 

The name conjures up sticky days giving way to long, warm nights, but fans of Afie Jurvanen's solo project, Bahamas, know the Toronto-based singer-songwriter is much more comfortable singing about his life far from paradise. His debut, Pink Strat, tracked the highs and lows of a doomed relationship, and three years later, Jurvanen is back with Barchords.

I'm kind of weary to talk too much about the genesis," Jurvanen laughs. "It was one of those things that just took forever to process. Both of my records chronicle this period of my life... Okay, yeah, it's a breakup album." He laughs again, and admits that since this is the beginning of his press tour, he hasn't got an eloquent response at the ready. But that's part of why people are drawn to in his music: bare bones honesty.

The self-taught guitarist spent years playing in Feist's band and backing friends like Jason Collett. Though Pink Strat offered some subtle deviations into indie folk, blues and rock, Barchords embraces those genres wholeheartedly, with some detours into pop and gospel as well. With the songs recorded over a year ago – Barchords was delayed when U.S. label Brushfire signed Bahamas last year and released Pink Strat domestically – Jurvanen is digging back into songs that were written at a very different time and place.

My domestic situation is much healthier now," he laughs, quickly adding that "the relationships of my past are very precious and important and I don't want to make light of them at all. But, personally, I'm in a much better place. And even musically, I don't know if confident is the right word, but I just feel comfortable. That's a nice feeling right now, to be starting a new record that way."

Bahamas online

My news story on Bahamas is online at Exclaim.ca

Bahamas Talks 'Barchords,' Shares Album Stream 
By Andrea Warner

In the space of four years, Afie Jurvanen has gone from a part of Feist's backing band to a solo star of his own as alt-country folk rocker Bahamas. His 2009 debut, Pink Strat, was a richly textured examination of a romantic relationship seemingly staggering towards its end. His follow-up, Barchords, comes on the other side of love's slow death, and brings with it the kind of aching sadness, lingering anger and objective clarity that only comes well after you've given back the other person's stuff.

The new LP arrives Tuesday (February 7) on Universal/Republic in Canada, and all week you can stream the album here in Exclaim!'s Click Hear section.

Speaking to Exclaim!, Jurvanen says of Barchords, "I was struggling with something that was on and off and on and off for a long time, and it was something that was wonderful and amazing, but it was also something very difficult and painful. It was one of those things that just took forever to process, you know? Both of my records kind of chronicle this period of my life. So, yeah, it's a breakup album. All of my albums have been breakup albums."

And everyone loves a great breakup album. While touring in support of Pink Strat, Jurvanen earned the support of a slew of famous fans-turned-friends, such as Elvis Costello, as well as the attention of American label, Brushfire Records. The company re-released Pink Strat in the U.S., which delayed Barchords' release by a full year.

"In a way it's kind of strange now, it's going to go out into the world and have a life of its own and people are going to react to it," Jurvanen says. "For so long it was just something on a spool of tape and on a computer and every now and then I'd listen to it again to make sure I didn't hate it!"

Admittedly, Barchords is a vastly different landscape than its predecessor, but it's quite a natural evolution. Everything, from lyrics to influences to production, feels more complex. Melancholy haunts every song, from the sad cabaret of "Montreal" to the ironically titled "Overjoyed." Even the most upbeat, triumphant moments, such as the gospel-tinged "Never Again" and "I Got You Babe" are rooted in loss. When Jurvanen sings, "Do I hold you back in all the ways I lack?" it's another standout moment of heartbreaking self-awareness.

"Making it personal has been my foundation for writing songs since I began," he says. "I've made forays into more storytelling or conjuring things or exaggerating things but they're not the songs that resonate."

With the album's release date just around the corner, Jurvanen has been familiarizing himself again with these songs that catalogue his heartbreak. Thankfully, time and circumstance have him firmly separated from dwelling too deeply in the past.

"My domestic situation is much healthier," he laughs. "Personally, I'm in a much better place. And even musically, I don't know if confident is the right word, but I just feel comfortable. I feel comfortable singing, and I think when you're younger you spend a lot of time trying to find your voice as a writer, a singer, a performer, but in the last few years we've just done so much touring, it's really nice to get to a point where you can just play and stand behind your songs and stand next to them as something you've created and something that's a part of you. That's a nice feeling right now, to be starting a new record that way."

To hear those results, simply click here. And to read more of Exclaim!'s interview with Bahamas, head here. Plus catch him on Exclaim! TV here.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Vancouver musicians raise funds for jail house rock

My story on the Rock Lottery benefit at Waldorf hotel is in this week's WE.

Vancouver musicians raise funds for jailhouse rock

Three organizations from Vancouver’s creative community and more than 20 local musicians are redefining what it means to make beautiful music together. They are joining forces to participate in a Rock Lottery showcase Jan. 29 at the Waldorf Hotel.

The event randomly groups musicians (including members of Tyranahorse, Pugs and Crows, Painted Birds and more) into bands and gives them just 24 hours to come up with a 15-minute original set. The money will go towards funding a Girls Rock Camp-inspired program at a local women’s prison.
Instruments of Change founder Laura Barron, who is behind this initiative, hopes to illustrate why a rehabilitative system is better than a punitive one by emphasizing the empowerment of — hell yeah! — rocking out.

This is the first I’m hearing about Instruments of Change. Can you tell me about it?

It’s a non-profit that uses the arts as a tool to create social change. I’ve been a volunteer at the women’s prison and have been hoping to start a music program there for some time. I’m a professional musician, a classical flutist, and I’ve done a lot of community engagement work. I’ve also been a volunteer at the Girls Rock Camp in Portland, Oregon, where it originated. I was so incredibly inspired by the Girls Rock! movie, and I happened to be teaching at the University of Oregon at the time, so I spent a week coaching a band of young girls. I thought it would be a great model for the women [in the prison] as well.

Why would Girls Rock Camp work in a woman’s prison?

I’ve seen the positive impact it has on young women and it’s the same kind of change that would benefit these women: empowerment and developing cooperative skills, leadership, creativity. It’s is an intense experience. It’s one whole week and often the girls have never played an instrument before.
What we’re going to do is a 10-week pilot program, for a whole evening once per week. We’ll do writing workshops, so they’ll do both the lyrics and the music themselves. We’ll do instrument instruction and at the end of the 10 weeks they’ll perform their songs for their whole community at the facility.

The concept of a rock lottery is really cool. How did you convince the musicians to come on board?

It’s kind of three-fold. There’s another organization in town, the Association of Very Good Ideas. One of the women involved had done a rock lottery in Montreal and wanted to make one happen here. They approached Girls Rock Camp [at the same time as I did] and it was this great instant partnership.
There’s this big team of 12 of us from three different organizations doing all of the planning and getting all of the musicians together. Most of us are involved in the music world in some way or another, so we had a good network to ask.

The Rock Lottery benefit is Jan. 29 at the Waldorf, 8pm. $10 minimum donation. Tickets from Red Cat Records, Zulu Records and BrownPaperTickets.com. Info: InstrumentsOfChange.org or GirlsRockCampVancouver.ca.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Joyful Noise

My review of Joyful Noise is online at WEVancouver.com