While you weren’t paying attention, Bubbles, Julian and Ricky, the reprobates that make up the Trailer Park Boys, have gone international.
Thanks to a new deal with Netflix for multiple seasons and a cussin’ movie called SwearNet the boys are poised to critical mass. That, or at least get the opportunity to get drunk and stoned in strange places.
With this in mind I had the opportunity to talk about music with the Boys for AUX. Some of the topics covered: Rush, Loverboy, Shania Twain and the trailer park hip-hop genre.
Not included in the interview: my attempts to get them to compare Joel Plaskett to Groot.
It’s not the best piece of writing ever (why did I swear so much?), and because I wrote it from the comfort of my couch, watching it on TV while flipping between the pay-per-view feed and MuchMusic, it has a decided backseat driver vibe, but whatever. At the time I was really irritated by the whole event and embarrassed for both my generation and humanity in general.
Here it is:
I wasn’t there — and thank fuckin’ god for that.
Sure, the idea sounded pretty good, celebrate the 30th anniversary of Woodstock, relive peace, happiness and such, and enjoy a bunch of great bands. Problem is, most of the bands sucked and the kids ain’t about “the groovy trip” and shit these days, they’re about trying to grope that chick’s tits over yonder and “fuckin’ shit up, know what I mean?”
Well and comfy on my sofa and switching from Much to pay-per-view obsessively, one thing became clear — you get a bunch of young middle-class white kids together and boy do they ever get stupid.
Case in point, the now infamous Limp Bizkit set. I don’t have a problem with the way they incited the crowd to riot — it was all very Jim Morrison-esque and breathed a bit of truly historic air into what had been an otherwise mundane affair. It was truly rock ‘n’ roll, and a spectacle to behold, even from the couch. But the fact it took Limp Bizkit — a band who, when it comes down to it, are a horribly shitty one-and-a-half hit wonder — to cause a riot, reflects badly on this generation.
When the Much and PPV cameras would pan across the violent circle pits, looters ripping apart light tower rigging and moshing up a storm, it was actually kinda cool visually. But think about it. The kids tearing were tearing apart the light tower! I mean, it’s O.K. not to understand the mechanics of rock concert equipment, but it takes real glueheads not to be able to figure out that if you trash a tower, the show won’t continue. And it’s funny that just when I came to this realization, the PPV cameras zoomed in on some guys tipping over the portapotties reserved for the light tower crew, then started jumping on top of them. When one of the toilets collapsed under the weight of one of these jumpers I started howling. This kid’s pissed-off-at-his-Burger King-job-rage left him lying in a literal pool of piss and shit from the toilet he just destroyed. Fucking idiot.
The music of anger seemed contrived too. Korn just sucked, despite the crowd’s gleeful declaration that “Korn rocked, maan!” As far as muddy wonders go, I guess they were alright, but I can’t help but pencil in mid-October as the date for the Korn records to start flooding into the delete bins of used record stores worldwide. Rage Against The Machine sounded good playing their one song over and over again. But their burn-the-American-flag bit was the anti-climax to Fred Durst singing “Faith” from atop a scavenged piece of plywood. Godsmack, Sevendust, Buckcherry, Lit. Why the fuck did you even get invited? You’re at 14:58, baby.
The best barometer for the whole show was likely watching the MuchMusic throws from Ed The Sock and Sook Yin Lee. With each progressive throw, their nervous vitriol became more and more apparent, what with Sook calling the crowd “loogans” and Ed insulting all comers. They did after all have to abandon their camera tower during Limp Bizkit because of the semi-rioters. Sure insulting the audience was something of a music-snob elitist reaction, but it was entirely justified by just flipping channels to the PPV footage that would zoom in on a topless woman riding a guy’s shoulders and seeing numerous anonymous hands grabbing at her tits to cop a cheap feel. Classy.
In fact, the nudity was so rampant that Much’s Bill and Rick took to calling the show “Boobfest” and “Boobstock” in honour of the spring break-style moral deterioration going on around them. A moral deterioration best exemplified by confessionals from concertgoers pointing out to Rick or Bill where they had fucked the night before, or the best, jerked off behind some portapotties while watching some girls wrestling.
As for the music, there were a few actual highlights (none of which included Alanis, Jewel, Bruce Hornsby, Megadeth, Guster or Rusted Roots). The Tragically Hip opening up the proceedings on the main stage on Saturday was absolutely astounding. There was a sea of Canadian flags churning in such vast numbers that not even Canada Day shows can compare.
It was a truly surreal moment and one of those rare festival show instances that I’ve not seen since U2’s performance at Live Aid, where it felt like a band instantaneously arrives. Metallica were surprisingly great. After Rage and Limp Bizkit they had to do something, and what that was was literally a greatest hits marathon that seemed to never stop. It almost, almost redeemed the night.
But for every highlight there were numerous musical lows. Kid Rock playing for an hour was right up there, so was Everlast. And in what will likely be hailed as the most fractured performance ever in front of 250,000 people, Wyclef Jean let his sister Melky Sedeck hack apart “Raw” for 15 minutes before finally hitting the stage himself to hack apart his own songs. Although we will give him credit for shutting up and letting his DJ play House Of Pain and Naughty By Nature for 10 minutes.
So yeah, there you go, historic moment and all that crap, blah, blah. I’m glad I stayed home.
It was the wildest fantasy of music nerds come to life.
James Mercer of the Shins, Colin Meloy of the Decemberists and Corin Tucker formerly of Sleater-Kinney got together recently to form a supergroup called Echo Echo. Unfortunately, the band, not to be confused with the Santa Ana, CA, indie rockers of the same name, didn’t play any shows, or actually record any music together.
Mostly they just sat around on a couch looking bored in a skit called “Deuce Hotel” for IFC indie comedy program Portlandia.
Mercer says the idea of making music together never actually came up, even though the three were playing the parts of fictional band members.
“We never talked about it,” he tells Spinner while doing press in advance of the Shins’ fourth album, Port of Morrow, set for release on March 20.
“We kind of just got through it. It’s strange for us being filmed and stuff. We had fun hanging out and stuff, but we never talked about starting a band.”
In the skit, which is designed to parody too-cool boutique hotels like Portland’s Ace Hotel, main Portlandia characters Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein (ex-Sleater-Kinney, and current lead guitarist-singer for Wild Flag) are hotel desk clerks who act like starstruck groupies when Echo Echo check in.
Unfortunately, things take a dark turn when the band’s rooms aren’t ready, which sends Armisen and Brownstein into a lobby-trashing rage complete with tables being overturned, a fake stag’s head getting torn apart and Brownstein swinging precariously over a fireplace while the band runs out of the building.
Still, even though “Echo Echo” didn’t actually talk about making music while they were together, Mercer hasn’t discounted the possibility. In fact, he’s pretty warm to the idea.
“I don’t know,” he starts. “See, now I’m starting to think about, we’ve got to do this…”
They just needs to stay out of bad hotels.
This story was originally published Jan. 27, 2012 on Spinner Canada (RIP).
Béatrice Martin, better known as the A+ list chanteuse Coeur De Pirate in Quebec, happens to be a big fan of the bumbling, stumbling 30 Rock character Liz Lemon.
Sarah found this out while speaking to Martin recently about The Wire, covering Kenny Rogers and more.
To read the story head over to Huffington Post Music Canada by going here.
Risky Fuel 