Airport Shmareport

Hey y'all

Rob J reporting in.  As I write this I am sitting in the Halifax airport waiting to come back home to Ontario.  I must admit I find airports quite lonely.  Especially when you are returning.  To be honest that's probably because I am usually either a) exhausted or b) hungover: but neither of those apply to this morning. Actually, lonely might be the wrong word.  Bored is much more accurate.  Somehow everything about an airport is boring.  For instance, I have a computer, iPod, two essays to write, two books, one magazine and of course ample opportunity to nap.  Yet, in this recycled air environment that is the Hali airport I find none of this enticing.  I see ladies walking around with Barbara Kingsolver novels they probably won't ever finish and husbands who would be much more interested in Brittany Snow's sexy Maxim shoot than their a conversation with their wife.

(Authorial Intrustion) "Dude, relax.  Why so negative today.  Holy sacred Hindu cow, just grab a Starbucks and a kit-kat and breathe for a second. Don't hate on the nice ladies and gentlemen.  You after all looked at Maxim. Those folks could be your parents. Don't you like you frickin' parents?


Ok. Fine! Cafe Americano in hand, I'm ready to go.

First thing is first.

This is some Neil Young & Crazy Horse.  I remember reading a biography of this old Winnipeg native when I was in the height of my William Miller phase.  What struck me was his relationship with this band.  So far as I can tell, they weren't really musicians at all, more like drinking buddies who picked up guitars and fucked around.  I'm not hating. In fact, I think that this is the best stuff NY ever did. Also, that DIY attitude is the best thing that ever happened to music. period. I remember reading that one critic said Crazy Horse always sounds like they are going to fall apart.  This could be a metaphorical suggestion; perhaps they could hit a wrong note, speed up too soon, sing their harmonies out of key, all kinds of possibilities really.  Or it could be literal.  These dudes could literally fall off stage. Pass out drunk. Nod off.  For me, that's what makes it great!  it's so juxtaposed to the Heart of Gold, or Old Man Young sound. It sounds dangerous and raw and that's the way it should be goddammit.
Second things next.  I like talking about raw music so bear with me as I deviate from the set-list here.  This sound is raw by virtue of necessity.  "It gets funky when you got a subject and a predicate and drop it on a dope beat."




So, after the second thing, there is always the third. I have some of the funniest friends around.  Last night I received numerous texts from those crazy bastards and bastdettes.  Here is an adapted transcription of a voicemail T left me:


"Rob Fucking Jackson.  Fuck. ARR RUFF ARR ARR RUFFF GRRRR ARRR RUUF ARG ARG BLAAH. Shit man. Holy shit. Greasy. DDKDHGDLKFDHJKDGFHIDSRT##$I%. (in the background a chorus of Kodak, Kill, Leahey, Tara, The Doctor, Torts, Bobandi, and did I hear a little Johnny P? "Jackson, come back. we are doing tequila! Your girlfriend wants Matt Hulse.  He is way faster than you! "Jackson, fuck. it's T.  Fuck. RUFF RUFF." 


Amazing right? Also, best text of the night goes to Kim for "C just took a 29 year old cock pic."  The New Pornographers song is for all you crazy mutha ukas.

Fourth thing:  

Since we've started the blog I've been really into hip hop.  I've been listening to a lot of rap as to learn its ways but i really love country songs.  

Alright, that's enough from me

Many kind words to your mums

Rob j