Over the next eight days, I am going to make you all the first side to some bullshit mixed-tape. Apparently Valentine’s Day is next week, so everyday I’ll post a song that gets me going on love.

Let’s celebrate love, then, shall we? I have my issues with how love as a concept is toxic and corrupt… but it’s still pretty cool to have, should you know how to treat it. Like a pet skunk. Love is having your stink removed.

Magnetic Fields – Love Is Like Jazz

The most honest love song is the one that is a baffling ordeal to sit through. And this song is really how love sounds when it gets started, is it not? Somehow it’s onomatopoeia for the rhythm in your bed, or the thoughts in your head. Either way my heart and ass are hurting but my cigarette tastes better than it did three minutes ago.

Buy Magnetic Fields' "69 Love Songs"

See you tomorrow!

-kam

Marilyn Manson... nowadays you hear a lot of "well, I hate his music, but he's a smart man."

Well, he is a smart man, and I have a soft place for his music like an embarrassing Christmas sweater.

Marilyn Manson - The Last Day On Earth

He gets criticized for his vocals, and indeed he often sounds like he spent last night up with croup, but this one is so totally your unmarried uncle doing camp-songs after four and a half shandys. Oh, and maybe it's been night for three days, and the temple's just been destroyed.

Incidentally, if I can even come close to imitating any famous vocalist... this is the guy. I'm certainly not bragging; he's a Weird Al parody waiting to happen. Remember Weird Al?

There's a certain romance in the end of the world. I've always felt it, and many have found this odd. But just the idea that it's over, for everyone, all at once. Who would you spend it with? What would you say? What could be more beautiful than watching the stars fall, and the sky melt like film in a projector? Maybe love is your Winamp visualization come to life like all those stoned dudes in university hoped for...

Buy Marilyn Manson's Last Tour On Earth

(but see if you can find the limited edition... it has his cover of 'A Rose And A Baby Ruth', my first choice for what will be my only Marilyn Manson post.)

-kam

I dislike songs that make too much sense.  Maybe this is why I can't get into hip hop... it's too literal.  I don't get very far deconstructing handguns, hos & mag wheels.
 
I prefer songs with lyrics and progression that really just make me rub my eyes...  that make me search Wikipedia for context.

Lee Hazlewood & Nancy Sinatra - Some Velvet Morning

So after yesterday's song, this is the morning after. Some sort of communication breakdown accented by bed hair. Maybe you reach for a drink of water, but accidentally grab a beercan full of cigarette ash.

At first I found this song needlessly complicated, but indeed it's the incompatible (almost stereotypical) discourse between man and woman, buried under psychedelic haze that just isn't possible in today's music.

Love is being lost in translation. Kind of like that movie, I guess, but I swear I didn't think of that until after I wrote this.

Fairy Tales & Fantasies: The Best of Nancy & Lee is out of stock.

Check out Slowdive's cover on their album "Souvlaki". Sounds delicious. I was going to post it instead, but bleh. Chromewaves probably did it. And we post too many covers.

-kam

I sleep in a big bed with my wife.

Kirk van Houten - Can I Borrow A Feeling?

I have the Simpsons playing on the computer in my bedroom 24/7, thanks to Shoutcast TV. So when I come home at night or wake up in the morning, the Simpsons are playing. Because afterall, isn't this really happening subconsciously in the brains of anyone under 30, raised in a TV culture? Love is a Simpsons quote in an awkward pause.

Poor Kirk, though. He is perhaps The Simpsons' greatest tragedy; he suffers to put his marriage back together, loses his job at the cracker factory, and then his arm. A testament to true love, I suppose, as he finally gets Luanne back. He should be an example to us all who sometimes fantasize of sleeping in racing cars, and living next to Arby's.

Buy some Simpsons stuff! I hear if you don't support them, this show will never take off.

-kam del grande

My series is derailed due to technical difficulties... and poor time management. More tomorrow.

Oh, and God hates Japan.

-kam

Little Feat - Dixie Chicken

I'm not the most qualified to write about (or even appreciate) southern 70's rock. As far as I knew there was the song "Free Bird" and all the other songs "not-Free Bird". (thank you, David Spade's stand-up act)

Intolerance, and inbred racism notwithstanding, there's a certain chicken-fried romance about the Southern U.S., punctuated by moonshine and will-o-wisps. Seems to me the air would be thick with temptation; barndances at sundown, grits at sunrise, and fun stuff in between. Love is best when it's totally barefoot.

Alright, that's enough stereotyping.

But oh, the refrain is made far more enjoyable should you add immediately afterward, a rousing "craaaaaash into me!"

Buy the album here

-kam

My garrulous shift supervisor at the pizza place once claimed that every pop song ever written was about love. She may have been correct, but who cares. She was just attempting to undermine my six-holed Doc-boot angst, so we didn't have to listen to anymore of my nothing records bullshit in the kitchen.

Later that shift I cut my finger open on the tomato slicing thingy and then somehow managed to spill hot pepper juice in the open wound. That, somehow, was probably about love too.

That was 1998, and I don't really like pizza anymore. I also don't really pay attention to a song's lyrics until the music hooks itself into my consciousness. Yes, I realize this not only a) makes me a bad music fan, but b) is also making my soon-to-be English degree sob quietly in the closet.

So, something simple, innoffensive, that doesn't sting and stays with me for days:

Blur - Tender (Cornelius Remix)

There's a simple lyric within, but it sums up love the best: "lord i need to find / someone who can heal my mind"

It's all epileptic. It's the planetarium on mushrooms. It's pins & needles (to the heart, I guess).

The original version is all pomp, almost begging to be Brad & Jen's wedding theme (which it was). This version strips that away; injects it with cartoon physics, adds a certain chaos-in-Candyland perspective, and provides a primordial feel in spite of being mostly electronic.

In 1999 I had a journal which listed my potential wedding songs. I can actually see that journal on my bookshelf as I type. I'm afraid to look, for fear that Brad & Jen stole my idea. And because I don't need to be reminded that I was an 18 year old guy who fantasized about his wedding. May as well been marrying some guy named 'Cory'.

Buy this song on the 'No Distance Left To Run' single... Huh. That song is like Divorce Court, to Tender's Love Connection.

Huh. Chuck Woolery.

-kam

I had planned to do a themed series of posts, much like Kam's, but my theme fell apart. It was a stupid, boring, bad idea, but three posts survived. I'm still going to try and do the tricky seven in a row and at the end, you're supposed to guess what the original theme was. Anyone who was privy to the theme beforehand isn't allowed to guess and ruin it for our four dedicated readers.

Inherently, pleasure shouldn’t make you feel guilty. In most music circles, however, you’re expected to feel appropriately guilty for enjoying certain artists, or more accurately, specific songs by certain artists.

Example!

A while ago I was considering compiling a CD of my favorite “guilty pleasures” and I was discussing choices with friends. I mentioned this:

Veruca Salt - Shutterbug

A friend said “I like Veruca Salt”. I realized then that the "guilty pleasure" easily becomes the “unintended insult”. I had failed to remember that when you admit to liking something guiltily, you imply that it’s something to feel guilty about. I felt bad and quickly mentioned “Heat of the Moment” by Asia. Nobody really likes Asia, right?

The reason for considering a band a "guilty pleasure" lies in either some hang-up you have about what you “should” like, or something the band did that’s embarrassing, and therefore liking them condones such behavior.

Nonetheless, in all honesty, here's my reasons for feeling guilty when I listen to this single from the late 90's:

1. I saw Veruca Salt live in 2000 and there were exactly two rows of people there. I felt so embarrassed for them. I guess it gave me the impression that they were washed up, or worse, that I had gone to see a band that was washed up – the fact that it was goddamn frosh week and I went to the show alone didn’t help. (My fault).

2. Veruca Salt haven’t been revered publicly (yet) by an up-and-coming band (a la Panic at the Disco’s unbelievable championing of Third Eye Blind – what’s that about?) (My fault).

3. The guitar solo at the end basically made it unnecessary to print “Produced by Bob Rock” on the back of the sleeve. Upon hearing the solo, one just assumes that Bob Rock had something to do with it. (Their fault).

4. I like this song a lot better than their previous single, “Volcano Girls”, which I can’t stand (despite the fact that, when it comes to Veruca Salt, "Volcano Girls" is the song people seem to get all wet about). (My fault?)

So, upon further research, it’s my fault that I consider them a guilty pleasure. Based on this, I’ve come to two conclusions: a) Veruca Salt probably shouldn’t be considered a guilty pleasure and b) I’m completely full of shit.

Buy A Veruca Salt Album Which Has Its Title Ripped Off Of Another Band's Song Or Album Title...No, Not The AC/DC One (American Thighs), Not The Led Zeppelin One Either (IV), No, No, Not The Second Beatles One (Resolver), The First Beatles One!! (Eight Arms To Hold You)!

-kevin

Since the advent of the inter-web, I’ve noticed that I possess more “alternate-versions” of songs than I ever thought I would. If I dig a song enough, I’ll usually type its title into soulseek regularly until I’ve found every possible version of it. It ends up obscuring what I like about the song in many cases, because I start to sing the demo version’s slightly different lyrics when actually listening to the acoustic version that I found on some random blog. Y’see how that’s a problem?

Final Fantasy - This Is The Dream Of Emma & Cam

Now, before you start furrowing your brows in a vain attempt to understand the situation, it's not a misprint, it's not supposed to be "This Is The Dream Of Win and Regine". It’s the “alternate” version of the tune from Owen’s Young Canadian Mothers vinyl-only EP (hence the shoddy quality). It’s not that different, and truthfully, not as good. At least the title adheres more closely to the Postal Service's "(This Is the Dream of) Evan and Chan".

These "alternate versions" cause havoc for record store employees, because often you'll get someone coming in, asking to hear a CD, and then complaining that it's "not the right version" and that they "heard it on the internet". When it's explained to them that they may have heard a bootleg or a b-side, they furrow their brows in a vain attempt to understand the situation.

It all leads to furrowing.

Young Canadian Mothers is Out Of Print (Luckily, I Have A Copy, Ha-Ha), But Has A Good Home Has The Better Version Of This Song, and You Can Buy That Here!

-kevin

I didn’t really listen to any Jazz before I worked in a record store.

What happened was that I got sick of digging through the "Misc. S" section to find new CDs to listen to, so I resigned myself to the Jazz section. I ended up getting heavily into anything that said “ballads” or had a depressing title. It Could Happen to You by Chet Baker caught my eye.

“What?!?” I wondered. “What could happen to me?”

Chet Baker - Everything Happens To Me

Apparently everything could happen to me. This song is a lot funnier than I think was originally intended.

Almost every Jazz CD in my collection is there for a reason. I own this Chet Baker record because, one day, it'll be my “dinner-party” CD. (Despite the fact that, according to this song, I'll try to throw a party and the guy upstars will complain).

We all give subtitles to certain CDs in our collections. We all have a “Saturday Night” CD, a "Sunday Morning" record, and a "Slightly-Foggy-Monday-Afternoon-in-August" album.

Other CDs are owned for specific situations. I call them “It’s good if…” albums.

“Frank Sinatra's In the Wee Small Hours is good if it’s raining and you just got dumped."

If you really think about it, though, how often are you going to get dumped and subsequently have the day to sit around and listen to Ol’ Blue Eyes bitch about Ava Gardner? Maybe once?

Why would you buy a CD preparing for that occasion? It's like buying a CD in preparation for a locust attack - it could happen, but it probably won't happen to you. (In that case, though, I'd recommend The Locust's Plague Soudscapes. I think if locusts heard you playing this, they'd ultimately let you live for your valiant effort in trying to communicate with them).

I continue to buy CDs and records based on premonitions of situations that haven't happened yet. Invariably, I look at my record collection, see these "mood records", and no matter what kind of mood I'm in, I think “I’m not really in the mood for that….where’s Louder Than Bombs?”

Buy Chet Baker's It Could Happen To You, and get the added bonus of a record cover depicting Chet and a sexy jazz girl canoodling in, what appears to be, the mouth of a giant red snake....here!

-kevin

There seems to be something in the air; everyone I know is making changes in their lives. I think of it as preparation for nostalgia – in a year, I’ll be buried under a mountain of school-work and think back on this time as a golden age.

I look back on 2003 with much nostalgia – it was a golden age for doing nothing. I’m going to have to skip past examples, though (I like to give off the appearance of a man that's busy), and get right to the point:

The Dismemberment Plan - The City

2003 is the year the Dismemberment Plan broke up, within about a year of my discovering them. Theirs was a glorious career, and I still think that few in music, and especially indie rock, can match Travis Morrison’s lyrical prowess. Luckily, I got to see them on their farewell tour – but it was bittersweet because seeing them play only cemented my love of the band.

I still have a rusty, lousy button that I got from the show. If you see me wearing it, it’s a special occasion. Probably.

Buy An Album Pitchfork Reviewed Accurately!

-kevin

There are 5 W’s when you’re writing about anything, and I feel that only the ‘where’s have been neglected on Zero. So rather than posting a vague description of how places influence and shape our musical tastes and experiences, I thought I’d run down a quick list of a few specific places that have contributed to my (and I’m sure a lot of my geographic peers’) musical landscape. This isn’t meant to be “a tourist’s guide to musical Ontario”; it’s just to reference specific places that held some kind of magic in my musical upbringing.

Okay, this is part one.

1. Records on Wheels (Record Store) – circa 1989-1992.

Back before malls only had an HMV and a Sunrise Records, there were a few different alternatives scattered across suburbia. Records on Wheels was the only record store within walking distance of the house I grew up in. It housed a pretty sad selection, but I distinctly remember poring over cassettes every weekend, wishing I had enough money to buy one. The first cassette I ever purchased with my own money, I purchased from ROW; the Doors’ Greatest Hits. I remember that “Not to Touch the Earth” freaked me out a little. When Morrison breathed “I am the Lizard King, I can do anything” at the end, I disbelievingly wondered “anything?!?” It turned out that he could do exactly nothing, because he was dead.

2. Encore Records (Record Store) – circa 1992-present.

I often find it hard to describe to people who live in my hometown how lucky they are that an independent record store like Encore exists closer to us than Toronto. The first time I went in, it was because the sign said “Records”, and my dad thought he might be able to bulk up his collection of 45’s. He lasted about one minute in Encore’s racks before he dragged me out by my Zellers brand sweatshirt (I think it was the one that said “Baseball All-Star” on the front. Maybe it was the “Football All-Star” one, I don’t remember. I was neither, nor would I ever be, an "All-Star" at anything except - perhaps - over-drinking and sarcasm). Anyway, I was intrigued by the fact that they had a wall of cassettes that were priced much lower than Records on Wheels’. I found out that it was because they were used cassettes. I thought that was "awesome" and my first purchase there (as much as I hate to admit it) was Pump by Aerosmith. I hate to admit it, because the second time I went in I bought Nevermind by Nirvana (which is, let's face it, is much "cooler") and thus I began a relationship with Kurt Cobain that led me to quit sports and ruminate a lot.

(I loved that band enough to do my seventh grade public speaking assignment, commonly known as “speeches”, on Nirvana a year before he killed himself – everyone did them on Nirvana the year after – but I think the teacher would have rather I took her suggestion and done the speech on kinkajous. Whatever, I got an “E” for effort).

Since then, Encore has provided me with the fixin’s for every musical habit I’ve ever had, and I doubt more than a month has gone by in ten years that I haven’t set foot in that store; my favorite record store of any I’ve visited.

3. The Field And Forest By My House (An Actual Field and Forest) – circa 1990-1995.

In the later years of elementary school, I used to wander around the forest and field in front of my house with my crappy little walkman on, listening to songs that I taped directly from the local top 40 station, AM109. I had very “eclectic” tastes back then, and listened to mix tapes that included, at various intervals, Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now”, the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Under the Bridge”, and Mudhoney’s “You Got It (Keep It Outta My Face)”. Actually, if you compile all of those songs together, you have a ready-made ironic mix CD. I was being ironic before I knew what irony was. I was “pre-ironic”.

4. Molson Park (Concert Venue) – circa 1995-1996.

Thank God that I hadn't done anything even remotely bad in elementary school because, based on my penchant for behaving myself, my parents decided to let me go to Lollapalooza ’95 (without a chaperone) when I was 13. Now I know that Lollapalooza had turned into a parody of itself by 1995, but to a 13-year-old kid it was the most awe-inspiring experience possible, other than discovering that scrambled porn unscrambles. Because of my parents (and because of the good people at Molson, whose park hosted the two consecutive Lollapalooza-s that I went to), I had seen Pavement, Beck, the Jesus Lizard, Hole, Sonic Youth, the Ramones, Soundgarden, You Am I, and the Violent Femmes by the time I turned 15. Not a bad 730 day’s work. (Full disclosure: I also saw the Mighty Mighty Bosstones at ’95, which sullies the experience slightly. Well…a little more than slightly).

To my virgin ears, Pavement were a hell of a band to contend with. Unlike the alterna-teens at the festival, I couldn’t understand why they didn’t try a little harder. I remember them playing “Cut Your Hair”, (I knew that one from CFNY), but the rest of the set sounded to me like this:

Pavement - False Skorpion

I’m sure they didn’t play that one.

Anyway, if it wasn’t for corporate-sponsored-alterna-rock-events of the mid 90’s (go Jostens!); I wouldn’t have been introduced to what we know now as “indie-rock”. So, that's how that happened.

Buy Pavement's Wowee Zowee - Sordid Sentinels edition (which, according to Amazon, is a "Best of") here!

-kevin

(Please note: this entry refers to my lack of a future. And nothing else currently happening in my life.)

So, when everything that is comfortable becomes uncomfortable... here I am (back again to abuse the semi-colon some more).

Econoline Crush - Razorblades & Bandaides

Your first reaction upon hearing it is "shut up, I get it, stop shouting". I post it because it's a song I maybe listened to everyday in 1999, while I sold cigarettes to line-workers during their crossword breaks at the Kwik Mart.

Tonight I just wanted to jump back and not think about today. Mention the words "Econoline Crush" to a 19 year old in the year 2007 and they might anticipate some niche-marketed soft drink.

I don't want to think about what's about to happen in my life. I'm ready for it all, and it's going to be... riveting? (?) But I'd be remiss to umm... not remember where I'm coming from, and, uhh, what it has all meant to me. I just want to dwell in something familiar for a second, before I cough up my lungs.

Kevin got to see Veruca Salt alone at his Frosh Week (I just think that is super)... well no one wanted to come with me to see Econoline Crush at my ex-girlfriend's. She remained nonplussed when I suggested that it may be awesome; that they may play this song: a ham-fisted "Black Metallic". I think we had to stay in instead, and watch Trading Spaces, or smoke weed from her roomate's lizard-shaped bong and pretend not to feel anything.

The bottom-feeding guitars and lamenting chorus have always reminded me that longing comes for everything from extinct affection to discontinued candy-bars.

Buy Econoline Crush's "The Devil You Know". Of note: check the product description; it's Matt Galloway approved. Sort of.

-kam