PAINT'S WEBLOG

Fare Thee Well, As You Were

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 19 Jul 2023 05:22:00 +0000

Dear friends,

We imagine this may simply come as a confirmation of what you've been suspecting for some time now, but the least we can do to show our gratitude for the generous support you have all given Paint the past 15 years, is make it official: Paint is no longer touring or creating new music. Even before the world began unravelling in 2020, we had agreed, as a family of friends, who remain a family of friends, that the time had come to lay the active wheels on the Paint machine to rest.

Will there ever be a reunion tour? A full-catalogue performance night? An appearance at Live Aid 2035? Time will guide that course as it needs to.

We have been for the last few years, and will continue to be, absolutely committed to providing an ongoing interactive experience for so many of you who have been with us for the ride. Archival and anniversary releases from the vaults, remastering, more photo books, poster collections, and other audio/visual content will be released when we feel there's something worth sharing. Of course, all of Paint's social accounts and website will remain active forums for you to hang with us and one another.

While the life of a band can be punishing and unforgiving, not many bands are as lucky as Paint has been. The amount of kindness we have received from you the fans, industry colleagues, our musical peers and mentors, granting agencies, and between family members, is something we will forever cherish as we take our Paint-learned lessons forward to the next chapters of all of our journeys. Amidst the sea of edgy posturing that is the music business, Paint has honestly and genuinely accumulated enough material for a colourful Behind The Music episode, and the fact that we are all here to even deliver this news to you is, in many ways, a minor miracle. Honouring the highs, lows, and everything in between by keeping an active presence for all of you is a pleasure we are more than happy to indulge in.

As a treat to you, on August 4, both Can You Hear Me? and Where We Are Today are being released in 15th Anniversary deluxe editions, chock full of goodies. We'd suggest picking these up on Bandcamp, where you get exclusive and extensive digital booklets with all kinds of photos, new artwork, reflection and navigation notes, and easter eggs. But of course, they will be on all the usual platforms, along with newly-remastered versions of Chapter 11 and the "Life" single, which were previously unavailable anywhere but Bandcamp.

And trust us when we say: there is more in the vault. Stay tuned...

Thank you for walking alongside us. We're humbled to call you all members of the extended Paint family. We are you, you are us, and none of this would have been possible without your generosity and passion for the rock 'n' roll we've brought to you. Keep your eyes peeled for new branches growing from the Paint tree!

With love,
Jordan, Devin, Keiko, and Robb

Sharing the Het Memes

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 14 Jul 2017 18:04:00 +0000

So, a friend and I, for a long time, would entertain ourselves with what we call "Het Memes"... in honour of Metallica's Sunday visit to Toronto (where you bet we're gonna be there on the floor!), I figured why not share them?

Starring James Hetfield as himself:

and the Kimodo Dragon as Robert Trujillo:

And so we begin.....

When Fuel is pumping engines....

When Robert tries to take Het out for dinner:

When Lars misses a drum fill during "Master of Puppets"....

We all mix up the words sometimes, even if we wrote them...

...especially when Het's got International Women's Day on his mind:

When eras collide...

Later in the same show....

And then they bust into "The Memory Remains...."

Catering was tasty in Cleveland...

A little overzealous during Freeze 'Em All....

Nomination for the next Garage, Inc.... "Total Eclipse of the HET":

Fuck y'all, this is poetry at its finest...

Highlights from Hardwired... To Self-Destruct:

....and one for the road (can I make a request for Sunday?!?!):

See you all Sunday!

Punk as F*ck: Why Midnight Oil may be the most important band there's ever been

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 17 Feb 2017 19:18:00 +0000

There are a lot of bands who have had long and respectable careers based on principle and evolution. When asked who my ideal template is for a band's career, the one that always stands out most is the Australian monolith, Midnight Oil.

Why?

When The Oils (as they're affectionately called by their fans) started out in the late '70s, they hit the Australian club circuit hard, opened for the Ramones, and developed a strong cult following. The Oils quickly developed a reputation for being a no-bullshit punk rock act, notoriously (and heroically) stopping performances mid-set to announce that the promoter had not paid them and they would not play another note until the matter was resolved. Fearing riot from the packed-full room of young punks in the audience, promoters always made good on their end of the deal.

Eventually (and almost inevitably), major labels started sniffing around. The Oils, led by singer Peter Garrett and his recently-acquired law degree, tore up every contract that came their way, feeling the terms offered were not artist-friendly on a financial or creative level. Their first three records were released independently as a result. When The Oils ultimately did sign with a major label, it was on the conditions of: you don't tell us what to do, you don't tell us when to do things, and you don't tell us how to do it.

With the leverage of a dedicated fan base and the bargaining power of the education of the band itself, The Oils got exactly what they wanted and began to mount an international campaign to become of the most respected and exciting live attractions in the world. Not only that, they never shied away from political subject matter, and delivered it in a way that, in their own words, didn't exploit the victimization of the people they were helping give voice to.

And The Oils weren't just about singing about it; they held strongly that they should also act upon it, no exceptions. When the Exxon-Valdez spill happened in 1990, The Oils embarked on a covert operation to set up a stage in front of Exxon headquarters in New York. Next thing they knew, 20,000 people were there ready to rock, as the band erected a sign saying "Midnight Oil Makes You Dance, Exxon Oil Makes You Sick."

When the Sydney Olympics had their closing ceremonies in 2000, The Oils, as Australia's Beatles, were invited to perform. Having a long-standing history of working with the Aboriginal community in Australia, and recognizing that the Sydney Olympics were taking place on traditional Aboriginal land, The Oils hatched a plan: without telling anyone, at the last possible second, to a global-wide broadcast audience, they stripped into black outfits with the word "SORRY" across their chests, and blasted out "Beds Are Burning," an anthem denouncing colonialism.

The Oils commanded respect, and seemed to have no trouble maintaining it across the board. Strangely, unlike many other successful artists who are often told to "shut up and sing" when they infuse politics into their music, no such cries were ever made to The Oils. They were, and still are, held in the highest esteem and regard as artists, activists, and global citizens.

In 2002, The Oils released, in my opinion, their best album, Capricornia. It was supported by an international tour. The album, and tour, would prove to be their last, as Peter Garrett stepped down from the band to run for the Australian Labour Party. He won in 2004, and would eventually be appointed Minister for the Environment, Heritage, and The Arts. For the next eight years, Peter Garrett brought a refreshing sense of purpose and forward-thinking ethic to the high office.

It was assumed at that point that Midnight Oil would never record or tour again.

Garrett resigned in 2013, expressing no intention to seek re-election (which he could have easily gotten had he decided to run).

This past week, it was announced to the surprise of the world, that the Great Circle Tour 2017 would see The Oils making their return to the global stage. Needless to say, I'll be front and centre when they come to Toronto in May.

I can't think of a more noble and respectable career than the ones The Oils have had. I suspect many would be hard-pressed to find otherwise.

Eight Years To Life: What Will Barack Obama's Next Move(s) Be?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 08 Nov 2016 04:30:00 +0000

Photo by Joe Mac
https://www.flickr.com/photos/thepaintsite/albums/72157631646006001

This old photo was taken from the stage on November 6, 2012 at C’est What? in Toronto. An older post recounts the night in more specific detail, but for the context of the current musing: the band was dipping in and out of the back room watching the 2012 U.S election results trickle in. Barack Obama was seeking re-election against Republican Mitt Romney. I used a Sharpie to draw stars and stripes across my hands in solidarity with our friends to the south.

Photo by Joe Mac
https://www.flickr.com/photos/thepaintsite/albums/72157631646006001

By the time we were summonsed to take the stage, the official outcome had not yet been determined. Our opening number had me splatting out the lyrics to The Ramones’ “Blitzkrieg Bop” as we segued into “She Leaves" (remember "She Leaves"?!?!). Immediately following the song’s final crash, I asked the audience to let me know if the identity of the next President was announced during our set and I would be doing my best to make out their faces beyond the blinding stage lights in my eyes.

Following the live debut of the now-staple “Shattered Hearts,” I picked up the guitar and Devin drilled us into the shotgun drum into of “Boomerang," with only one song to follow. Halfway through the second verse, beyond the (fittingly red, white, and blue) stage lights, the hands waved, cell phones raised, pointing at their screens, accompanied by voices yelling and mouths mouthing the word “OBAMA” above the verse’s spacious refrain. Just as the second chorus dawned upon us, the tidal “Heeeeeeeey” was replaced by a bellowed “Ooooobaaaammaaaa!!!!” in the most joyous wail I could belt out. True to form as a National Geographer of the beast known as Paint, Joe Mac captured the exact moment my uvula was dangling vibratingly for all to see with his lens. I’ll always love that photo.

I remember watching Barack Obama’s inaugural election speech on a half-broken television set in East Vancouver when he was first elected President in 2008. After eight years of George W. Bush, the tragedies of 9/11, the war in Iraq, and the dramatic plummet of the American economy, Obama’s induction was not only necessary but welcome. His words struck a chord in a way that my grassroots half-dishevelment with the system of political change at the time were able to let their guard down and hear a certain magic that a head of state had seemingly not articulated in my lifetime, shy of the great Nelson Mandela. I will never forget hearing Barack Obama (while only partially seeing, as it was not only the picture on the television screen that was foggy, but my welling up eyes as well) so eloquently say,

I will always be honest with you about the challenges we face. I will listen to you, especially when we disagree. And, above all, I will ask you to join in the work of remaking this nation… This victory alone is not the change we seek. It is only the chance for us to make that change…. It can't happen without you, without a new spirit of service, a new spirit of sacrifice. So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism, of responsibility, where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves but each other.

It was unfathomable to actually hear but exactly what I always felt, with a seemingly archaic idealism for 2008, the role of an elected representative was intended to be: to recognize her or his role as an extension of the people through dialogue and responsiveness, and to request (and remind) citizens that it is indeed up to all of us to the make changes we wish to see. A President isn’t Superman. All of our hands need to get dirty to get things accomplished. Obama's call-to-action reminds me of Bono’s assertion that being partisan interferes with progress when seeking meaningful change; that in order to move forward on issues and practices that will contribute to increased humanity, health, and harmony, we must be willing to work with everyone regardless of political stripes. An elected official who takes an ideological stance and refutes dialogue (Rob Ford comes to mind in the local context of Toronto) will be a barrier to progress. And this gentleman, the first Black President, was prepared to listen every step of the way and allow us (of which, as a Canadian, I generalize to global citizens) to lead the way. He may have been about to start driving the car, but he made it very clear that we would have to provide the directions. Whether or not we would, that would be the test (and ultimately the challenge).

The following day, I attended a Board of Directors meeting for the North ShoreRestorative Justice Society in North Vancouver, BC (on which I sat as a member as an extension of living in the community at the time and having a long history in my then-young -- hopefully still? -- life of fighting for truth and reconciliation at the municipal, provincial, and federal levels in Canada). One of the elder board members told a story of being a young Black man in America and not being served in a restaurant for reasons he didn't even need to expand upon. He broke into bittersweet tears when he said he could not believe that he had lived to see the day a Black man became President.

As we are, in 2016, now on the eve of the first woman taking the highest office in the United States (congratulations in advance, Hillary!), many lament that Barack Obama will no longer be with us -- as though him leaving office after the mandatory two-term maximum (implemented in 1951 as the 22^nd Amendment to the United States Constitution) is somehow the end of his career and presence as a global and political citizen.

But this is hardly the end. Former Vice President Al Gore, in helping advance a major effort against climate change, said that he was able to be significantly more effective as a citizen activist without the confines of the political system to turn decisions into targeted action with specific, swift, tangible, and meaningful outcomes. Through this kind of lens, the advancements Barack Obama made within the structure of the Presidency were all the more gargantuan; in fact, we may be hard-pressed to find another President since Confederation (and even beyond that to George Washington) who was able to effectively ratify as many large-scale initiatives as he did from 2008-2016. Many on the cynical or dare I say nihilistic end may not feel it now, but Barack Obama’s legacy and work as President of the United States will be studied for centuries to come as the pinnacle of Presidential effectiveness.

Imagine, then, without the limitations of blanket Republican dissent on every proposal he champions, just how effective a human and political rights player Barack Obama will be capable of being in the years to come. Whilst his time as the most influential public servant in the world is coming to an end, his contributions to human progress have only just begun.

And I for one can only not wait to see what he does from here, but look forward to finding ways that I can gladly join the movement.

slate.com

It's interesting how Democratic Presidents tend to continue their work as public servants or advocates in some capacity after they leave the Oval Office, but Republicans seem to retire to ranches and take up golfing. The volumes spoken about priorities is astounding.

Good luck at the polls tomorrow, friends to the south. The world will be watching!

There's something very peculiar going on here....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 29 Feb 2016 18:00:00 +0000

The band originally called Charlemagne, who was issued a cease and desist letter by the American singer-songwriter of the same name and subsequently changed their named to "The Arkells," is applying the "shoot first, look later" philosophy once again, perhaps?

It's Evolution, Baby....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 25 Jan 2016 23:21:00 +0000

A case for progressing throughout the course of one's life:

"The greatest feeling you can get in a gym or the most satisfying feeling you can get in the gym is the pump. Let’s say you train your biceps, blood is rushing in to your muscles and that’s what we call the pump. Your muscles get a really tight feeling like your skin is going to explode any minute and its really tight and its like someone is blowing air into your muscle and it just blows up and it feels different, it feels fantastic. It’s as satisfying to me as cumming is, you know, as in having sex with a woman and cumming. So can you believe how much I am in heaven? I am like getting the feeling of cumming in the gym; I’m getting the feeling of cumming at home; I’m getting the feeling of cumming backstage; when I pump up, when I pose out in front of 5000 people I get the same feeling, so I am cumming day and night. It’s terrific, right? So you know, I am in heaven."

- Arnold Schwarzenegger, 1977

"There are two doors. Behind Door Number One is a completely sealed room, with a regular, gasoline-fueled car. Behind Door Number Two is an identical, completely sealed room, with an electric car. Both engines are running full blast.

I want you to pick a door to open, and enter the room and shut the door behind you. You have to stay in the room you choose for one hour. You cannot turn off the engine. You do not get a gas mask.

I’m guessing you chose the Door Number Two, with the electric car, right? Door number one is a fatal choice – who would ever want to breathe those fumes?

I just hope that you’ll join me in opening Door Number Two, to a smarter, cleaner, healthier, more profitable energy future....

I, personally, want a plan. I don’t want to be like the last horse and buggy salesman who was holding out as cars took over the roads. I don’t want to be the last investor in Blockbuster as Netflix emerged. That’s exactly what is going to happen to fossil fuels.

A clean energy future is a wise investment, and anyone who tells you otherwise is either wrong, or lying. Either way, I wouldn’t take their investment advice.

Renewable energy is great for the economy, and you don’t have to take my word for it. California has some of the most revolutionary environmental laws in the United States, we get 40% of our power from renewables, and we are 40% more energy efficient than the rest of the country. We were an early-adopter of a clean energy future...."

- Arnold Schwarzenegger, 2016

Keep on growing, folks!

Where Everybody Kn(ew) Your Name..... Goodbye Rancho Relaxo.

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 12 Aug 2015 03:14:00 +0000

On August 29, 2015, the Toronto music community bids farewell to the one and only Rancho Relaxo. Affectionately known as "The Ranchole" (and verb-ified as "getting Rancholed" a.k.a. walking out the front door to see that the sun has come up), I cannot even begin to explain how much this little venue that could has meant to me personally and to Paint since our start in Toronto in 2009.

But rather than go through a sappy and sentimental summary of all the friendships, creative partnerships, jokes, and informal therapy that took place at the Ranch (needless since the relationships continue beyond the life of the box -- and also, that I promised myself I wouldn't cry), I thought it may be a good opportunity to run through some of the more memorable moments I've experienced on the Rancho Relaxo stage, in chronological order.

July 15, 2009:
An unknown-to-Toronto Vancouver ex-pat band named Paint gets granted its first show as a full band in its new home of Toronto. If not for Two Way Monologues promoter Dan Wolovick, Paint would not have had any ground to hit running in the Big Smoke. Back when I played guitar instead of just being an obnoxious dancing frontman. Here's a video playlist of that gig from the archives:

September 25, 2009:
Another super early Paint show in Toronto, on a bill with Fast Romantics, Secret Broadcast, and The Ascot Royals. Yes, this bill actually happened.

View full photo album

July 8, 2011:
Tribute/vs. nights were some of the most fun shows at Rancho. Local bands would take on entire sets in homage to some of their favourite bands. We got to do a couple of these. One was a Pearl Jam/Nirvana night. As hard as it was to choose a side, always and forever (as though it was ever about anything other than embracing all the beauty), Paint did a Pearl Jam tribute set that was one of my most humbling shows. Videotape does exist:

June 16, 2012:
A night when the Toronto Star called us one of the best acts of North by Northeast, and when, before even starting our set (actually as we were changing the stage over from Dilly Dally), the festival-supplied guitar amp I was supposed to use for the two whole songs I now play guitar on, blew up into a stage-dousing waft of smoke, I threw the axe down and we just slayed -- improvising on the dual-guitar tunes on the fly to make them translate. Apparently it worked. I think this was also Devin Jannetta's first show as a full-fledged member of Paint.

View full photo album

July 31, 2012:
There was something in the water upstairs on this night. We played a benefit show for our friends in the Spur-of-the-Moment Shakespeare (curated by "Boomerang" and 11:11 star Victoria Urquhart) and we absolutely, completely, destroyed everyone in the room. I think this one goes down as one of the best Paint performances of our career.

View full photo album

September 7, 2012:
I got to be one of my heroes, just for one day. Well, three; this was the second of a trio of David Bowie tribute nights in the Thin White (or Brown in my case) Duke attire. Other bands did The Stooges.

View full photo album

It was also a night where founding Paint member from the Vancouver inception point, Paula McGlynn was in attendance, seeing the band she formed four years prior -- having just written the 11:11-featured song "Bonfire of Vanities" in a couple hours the day before. This was truly worlds colliding.

View full photo album

July 4, 2014:
Canada Day on Independence Day -- Toronto bands playing all Canadian covers on America's birthday. Another tribute night, oddly enough -- and one of the fondest stage memories of my life. I was part of a Toronto indie supergroup: a Neil Young & Crazy Horse tribute act called "Prisoners of Rock 'n' Roll" with members of The Rathburns, The Stormalongs, Another City, and A Northern Drawl. It was the loudest, most raucous stage affair I've been part of, at least since my punk days. And nothing more satisfying than pointing at audience members, yelling "You're just a fuckup!!!" (while playing "Fuckin' Up") and being able to hug them all after the show.

View full photo album

February 14, 2014 and March 3, 2015:
Speaking of something in the water.... I somehow managed to get laryngitis twice before shows at the Ranch, despite my constantly strict vocal health regimens. And both times, much to my surprise and delight, the lovely Rancho crowd rushed the stage and belted out the practically-female high notes that I'm famous (in a relative sense) for. Rancho Relaxo was not only a Cheers bar to many of us (I even had my own stool!), where everybody knows your name, but they also know the words to all your songs -- where else can an indie rocker feel like a stadium star?

View full photo album

You can catch me doing a little solo set (another rare occurrence) at the Ranch to open up the last show ever on the sweatiest stage in the greatest city in the world. August 29 is the date. RSVP here.

Cheers, Rancho. It's truly been a slice of life.

Did that Rathburn a Little?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 06 Apr 2014 16:33:00 +0000

Erik Kolomayz's bloody bass after The Rathburns' show on April 5, 2014.

I get a lot of credit for pulling no punches when it comes to performing. In 2011, for example, after making a polite mess of a hotel room and proceeding to drag all the poolside furniture into the pool to have a feast with the band in the middle of the water at 4am, I woke up with a left big toe the size and colour of an eggplant. I taped my my toes together with gaffer tape and crammed them into my shoe in the fire exit before going out on stage at the London Music Club (Don't believe me? Here's proof at 3:51).

"The show must go on -- and will go on with 100% commitment," is something Paint is no stranger to (no pun intended). Personal crises, deaths in the family, just channel it all out on stage. This is a business,. This is art. This is performance. This is about your audience, not you.

But I must say, I walk out of every venue with my tail between my legs anytime I see a little Toronto band called The Rathburns.

My first interaction with The Rathburns, before they were even a band, was working with singer Frances at a record store. We shared an affinity for obscure Neil Young albums, and I always used to creep up behind her and smell her perfume -- which she was aware I was doing, but how could I not? Even after a sweaty slugfest on stage, she still smells spectacular.

Then all of a sudden, from out of nowhere, she was fronting this band (I didn't even show she sang at all, let alone wailed like a banshee and kicked the shit out of anything within a 10-foot radius), and the band just seemed to be coming out of the flood gates running.

I first saw The Rathburns live at the Horseshoe Tavern sometime last year, and before their set I see this dude roaming around the merch area with his arm in a sling, carrying a giant vial of prescription painkillers in his functional hand, popping these fuckers like candy. A few minutes later I see him on stage setting up the bass rig, and I'm thinking, "Seriously? Who's making the injured friend be a roadie!?!" He then carefully removed the sling, strapped on the P-Bass, and turns out he's Erik, the bass player in the fucking band.

The performance was one of zero restraint, by anyone in the quartet. Especially Erik. Complete sonic and physical annihilation.

I left the show and texted Jordan (Shepherdson, Paint guitarist) raving about what I just experienced, and how we had to play with them. So, we invited them to join a couple shows with us, including our Capsulated DVD release. We bonded pretty effortlessly, needless to say.

Cut to this weekend at the Rivoli, on the 20th anniversary of Kurt Cobain's death. The Rathburns took the stage on a bill with our friends in Secret Broadcast (who released their Adam Kasper-produced album Filthy Souls) and the Ascot Royals, who were stellar as always in their own right.

But as though they weren't "fuck you" enough already, halfway through The Rathburns' set, I saw Erik jerk his right hand away from his bass for a moment and squirm a little. Next thing we all knew, the song had ended, and his hand was a swathing mess of red. This wasn't a paper cut -- he was fucking pouring blood.

So what does he do?

He licks some of the blood off his fingers, smears the rest all over his face, walks up to Frances, smears blood on her face, they keep fucking playing.

I'm always confident that Paint can hold its own in any situation, and we do. And I almost never say this about another band, so take this to heart: The Rathburns are a band that makes me just want to pack up my shit and go home.

Kurt Cobain Was My Elvis

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 05 Apr 2014 22:53:00 +0000

(Rather than be a downer on this rather unpleasant anniversary, I thought I'd open this entry with a Kurt Cobain moment that always makes me laugh)

In April 2011, on the last day of tracking Paint's Where We Are Today record, producer Ian Smith and I went to see the Pixies on the Doolittle tour at the Centre in the Square in Kitchener. Before the show we caught up with a friend of Ian's named Norman Blake. Yes, that Norman Blake from Teenage Fanclub. With the charisma of a wise elder and the kinetic energy and animation of a hyperactive child, Norman recounted the time Frank Black tracked him down at a Teenage Fanclub show in Scotland during the Pixies' 1993 supporting run on U2's ZOO TV Tour, confiding in him that at the end of the tour he was going to break up the Pixies.

Norman then made the most convincing case for a reunion tour I've heard: he pointed out that the Pixies weren't as appreciated while they were a band the first time around as they came to be after the fact, and that touring now was more a victory lap where Frank, Joey Santiago, Kim Deal, and David Lovering could actually perform for audiences who loved them, and experience just how influential their music and legacy have become firsthand.

A big part of The Pixies' filtering into mainstream consciousness came when Kurt Cobain claimed that all he was trying to do with "Smells Like Teen Spirit" was rip off the Pixies -- and extended to working with producer Steve Albini, who recorded the Pixies' Surfer Rosa, on Nirvana's abrasive masterpiece In Utero. Of course, as bashful as he is, Norman didn't bring up the fact that Kurt Cobain had also cited Teenage Fanclub as one of the world's best bands.

So there I am in the Pixies' dressing room after the show sitting with Frank Black and Norman Blake, catching up on life, their families, and travels -- and it dawns upon me that I'm with the two guys Kurt Cobain cited as his biggest influences. This is music history right here. Never mind (no pun intended), for a moment, what Nirvana did; in the beginning, there was Teenage Fanclub and the Pixies.

My cultural awakening to music, which was discussed in a previous journal entry called "On Freddie Mercury and the Empowerment of Indians (From India)," came from the likes of Living Colour (as a person of colour facing a dominantly white playing field of rock 'n' roll) but my punk aesthetic and grassroots awakening to music -- the idea that it's a medium accessible to anyone with something to say regardless of your accessibility to formal training -- came solely, and entirely, from Nirvana. Some of the first songs I attempted to learn on guitar were Nirvana songs. I still can't play them properly.

I was lucky. I hit my formative years during a stitch in time when mainstream radio was being infiltrated by underground music; when Nevermind knocked Michael Jackson's Dangerous out of the number one spot on the Billboard 200 chart. I didn't realize at the time that this was out of the ordinary; that the pop charts were no place for the destructive beauty of punk rock or anything remotely imaginative. But I came to expect -- and on more inspired days, demand -- that popular music not pander to patronizing notions that the audience is beneath its own intelligence, but has the capability to challenge the audience with art that appreciates and gives credit to the intelligence it has (harking back on my paraphrasing of Morrissey shared in Paint: Where The Fans Are Alright). Even though Nirvana on Top of the Pops may have been the exception to the rule, it set a standard for me right from the start that better was possible, and to strive for nothing less.

Instead of seeing The Beebs pacifying me on TV as a kid, I got my mind (and ears) blown by performances like this:

Being in grade school when Nirvana made their assault into mainstream society may have been what it felt like when the Beatles came out -- except Nirvana had two decades of anger and alienation built up over what had happened to music since the Beatles broke up. It all just poured out through their music in its dissonant ragged glory. And we all heard it. We needed to. It lifted us. It gave us hope. It spoke to us. It spoke for us. But it also gave us all the tools and the will to want to speak. Louder.

As Eddie Vedder so eloquently put all of our thoughts into words from the stage on April 8th, 1994, the day the news broke that Kurt Cobain had died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head three days prior:

"Sometimes people elevate you whether you like it or not. And it's real easy to fall. I don't think any of us would be in this room here tonight if it weren't for Kurt Cobain."

I'm sure I speak for many when I say: Kurt Cobain was my Elvis.

Today, on the 20th anniversary of Kurt Cobain's death, I'm left, despite this entry, with nothing to say but make a little room for kindness. Choose your words carefully because they can be weapons. Hug a stranger.

Or just crank "Radio Friendly Unit Shifter" as loud as you can.

For Once Night Only...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 17 Oct 2013 17:47:00 +0000

(Yes, the title of this blog is a pun and not a typo)

From time to time, an idea can come to you under the influence that surprisingly does become something tangible and worthwhile.

During a particularly difficult time two or so years ago, I spent many a night at a particular watering hole in my neighbourhood in Toronto with Tamara Saringer, quite possibly the most classy lady I am lucky to know. We learned of our shared affinities for music and red wine, and she caught a few Paint shows. We found some enjoyment singing songs from the film Once by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová over a bottle or three of wine on summer nights on her balcony. It was never planned, but a few glasses in, Tamara, a fabulous trained pianist, would gravitate to the piano and we'd just start spontaneously singing these songs. The lyrics connected with a lot of what was going on for me, and our voices seemed to mesh. It was something completely unlike the music I play with Paint, but similar in its immediacy and directness. We'd often sit back after a tune, take another sip of red, look at each other and say, "One of these days, we should perform this stuff live."

So Paint went off and toured, and toured some more, and Tamara went and composed the music score for Kill, Sister, Kill, which received gracious critical acclaim at Toronto Fringe 2013. When some smoke cleared and I sat down to work on Paint's 2013 itinerary, Tamara and I decided it was time to get off our laurels (which were hardly resting!), book a date, and make it happen. Thankfully, the rest of Paint agreed to take part.

We wanted to do it in the fall, particularly in October. The colours of Glen and Markéta's songs were orange, maroon, burnt and rustic, it didn't feel right to do this any other month of the year. So that was settled. And the venue, well, we had a few options, and the back room and stage at The Rivoli just had the right amount of history, energy, and intimacy. Even more of a treat, to choose artists to join the bill who we wouldn't normally get the chance to share the stage with due to the more "acoustic" (though deceptively not-so-simple) approach we were taking to the songs. So it was the highly admirable Justine Dube, The Old Salts (featuring our old friend Darren Eedens), and my dear Piper Hayes (who also performed a few miracles at Fringe this year). And to invite the lovely Brenna-Hardy Kavanagh to play violin with us, any excuse to share the stage with someone I admire.

Amidst a very busy time for Paint (with being artists-in-residence at C'est What? every Tuesday this month, preparing a music videos compilation DVD for November release, more time on the road, an IndieGogo campaign to raise funds for our next EP, and shooting a film to go along with the EP), we may seem insane for then learning an entire collection of songs for a one-night-only production with a guest pianist and violinist.

But when has anything good ever come from playing it safe?

See you next Wednesday!
The Old Salts, Piper Hayes, Paint (performing songs from Once), and Justin Dube
The Rivoli, 334 Queen St. W., Toronto
Wednesday, October 23
Doors 9pm, $10, 19+
RSVP

Behind Every Band....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 29 Jul 2013 14:22:00 +0000

Well, not every band... but Paint has been lucky enough to have had some generous consulting and advising support from Matt Hughes since 2011 (during which time you may have noticed through some transition that damn near everything about us has gotten better). Matt's moving to Scotland to continue his journey into the business end of the music industry, and whilst 21st century communications mean that nothing changes really, it's probably a fitting time to acknowledge Matt's role in pulling me out right from the onset of the most difficult musical and personal times of my life. I'm forever indebted to the love, support, understanding, patience, wisdom, and insight he's given me and this band. Good luck in Scotland, my friend!

On Freddie Mercury and the Empowerment of Indians (from India)

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 05 Jul 2013 15:20:00 +0000

This entry is in two parts: 1. The Preface; and 2. The Point. If you're tight for time and just want The Point, by all means scroll down to "The Point," no offence will be taken. But for those with a bit more time wanting a 360 view on the thought process that ultimately leads to The Point, then by all means indulge in The Preface. Happy reading!

"There's always someone, somewhere, with a big nose, who knows. And who trips you up and laughs then you fall."
- Morrissey

"Don't ask me why I play this music -- it's my culture, so naturally I use it."
- Will Calhoun

THE PREFACE:

We played a show once at The Drake in Toronto opening for a great up-and-coming band from France called Revolver. Everything about the night was a blast, especially when our amazing former drummer Andre Dey MacGyvered together a detached tailpipe of his car with a rope on the northeast corner of Queen and Bathurst which allowed us to get to soundcheck just in the nick of time.

Over pre-show dinner in Barrie the following night (oddly enough opening for Shortwave, where Paint's drummer Devin Jannetta came from after Andre sadly had to return to Saskatchewan), we stumbled upon a series of Tweets from someone who was in the audience at the Drake and spent the duration of our set on a rather venemous (and un-tagged) tirade of hate against us. The first irony (of many, in a non-Alanis way, I hope) is that The Drake Underground is a pretty poor reception zone, so he must have been upstairs the entire time not actually watching our set. But every element of our music, our set, and us personally seemed to bother this bloke, even when we came around after our set to greet members of the audience -- which is all fine and dandy, everyone is entitled to an opinion, and we're happy he hated us instead of being on-the-fence (love/hate is the only measure of success for a band as far as we're concerned).

Where I took issue was here: his self-proclaimed title in his Twitter bio was "rock 'n' roll Ph.D." -- now, granted he was wearing a sweater-vest to back up the claim but think about the audacity of that self-imposed distinction. Especially when we closed with a cover of "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love, and Understanding?" which I introduced as "an Elvis Costello song." This offended Dr. Rock 'n' Roll so much that he Tweeted: "It's a Nick Lowe song for fuck's sakes!"

Actually, Dr. R'n'R.... whilst Nick Lowe did in fact write the song, he wrote it while playing in his band Brinsley Schwarz. So it's not an Elvis Costello song, nor a Nick Lowe song. It's a fucking Brinsley Schwarz song. You probably didn't consider that the singer of Paint has worked in record stores since he was a teenager and played in bands since he was 12.

Clearly the Dr.'s misled elitism has overlooked the finer elements of live music performance. If on the rare occasion that we include a cover in our set, what am I supposed to do on stage, Dr.? Go through the entire etymological history of a song to stroke my musical history wang and please some Pitchfork-reading jackass (as I jokingly did the next time we played the Drake and covered "Leavin' Here" -- saying, "This song was originally written by Motown trio Holland-Dozier-Holland and performed by Eddie Holland, then by The Birds -- but not the "Byrds" with a "Y," the "Birds" with an "I," the English R&B band that Ronnie Wood played in before he joined the Rolling Stones -- then by The Who, then Motorhead, then Pearl Jam... so, you can say this is a cover whoever suits your personal politics!"), or am I just gonna blurt out the shortest and most recognizable intro possible and break into the song -- because, you know, that's why people are there to see us...?

I would have been happy to have an in-depth and respectful conversation with Dr. Rock 'n' Roll after the show but surely his ears only hearing the inner workings of his sphincter.

The point (of The Preface) is, when it comes to music, even for a self-proclaimed "rock 'n' roll Ph.D.," there is always someone who knows more than you.

THE POINT:

With that Henry Rollins-esque sidebar out of the way, here is the actual point of this journal. As someone who does have a lot of useless rock 'n' roll knowledge floating around in his ether, but always acknowledgesthe never-ending abyss of the unknown and to-be-known, I had the audacity this past week to actually say, "How did I not know that?!?"...because it was a fact that, frankly, should have been one of the most significant that I've ever learned about life and music, which surely would have accelerated the path of my existence much earlier in life had I known it as a boy. But better now than never.

Freddie Mercury's parents were both Gujurati (from Gujarat, a state in the northeastern region of India, just south of Punjab, where my parents and entire genealogy hails from). Mercury was born in Zanzibar (now Tanzania) and lived in India until he was 17 years old. There's nothing white about him aside from his post-colonial education. Hell, he's more Brown than I am, as I was born and grew up between Vancouver and Toronto, Canada.

The kicker in all this is that my development into a singer/frontman has been a long and painstaking process, often tied up with issues of internal and external racism, growing up formatively in Kelowna, BC, where even the dirt is white. Then to Surrey, BC, where Brown kids shoot each other like it's going out of style while the police turn a blind eye. And then to the Downtown Eastside Vancouver, one of the only places in the world that white people are allowed to legitimately sing the blues -- just imagine what it's like if you aren't white!

Growing up that way, you'll get a crash course in the darker side of race relations from a young age. Getting kicked out of sports leagues for beating the crap out of white kids who called me a "Paki" over and over again, eventually finding a home amongst the outcast kids who listened to punk rock, but all the while still only seeing white men on TV in music videos. The American rock band Living Colour was a massive influence on me: they rocked harder, played better, looked better, wrote better songs, and sold more records than anyone out there. And they were all black! Not quite like me, but enough to make me want to pick up a guitar and join a band. But being a sideman of colour in a band was always more comforting than stepping in front of it. Because I still believed out front was no place for a Paki.

Eventually I started singing, but in awful funk/folk bands that I believed were "culturally appropriate" for a non-white singer, avoiding the rock 'n' roll that I loved so much, even though my education, grassroots awareness, and involvement in anti-racism efforts became severely acute as I became an adult. But I continued to be a sideman in multiple bands to avoid the racism I so openly fought against but had internalized so deep.

At last, at some point, I just said "Fuck this!" -- dropping the guitar and putting myself out front. I have Andre Dey to thank for this, fittingly enough, a black man, who saw what I was capable of doing without the anchor of an instrument hanging off me. And I never looked back. Though I still remained plagued by the underlying doubt of, "Will they ever take am Indian front man -- IN A UK-INFLUENCED ROCK 'N' ROLL BAND -- seriously?"

Putting aside the 400-year rape by the British of Indian culture, language, history, and geography (of course UK music is going to influence a Brown man)... let's look at the fact that the greatest rock 'n' roll frontman of all-time was Indian. Through and through. There was nothing white about Freddie Mercury. Not even the rock 'n' roll.

Now, I am in no way saying my talents are anywhere near Freddie Mercury's -- no one's are! But I'll be damned if I ever, ever think an Indian has no business fronting a rock 'n' roll band again. And anyone out there who's also Indian should feel exactly the same way.

Sat Sri Akaal,
Robb Johannes

Of Malcolm X and Men...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 18 May 2013 17:02:00 +0000

May 19 is Malcolm X Day. I can think of almost no one, alive or dead, known to me personally or not, who has had as far-reaching an influence over nearly every aspect of my life.

From a young age, Malcolm X's life and teachings shaped and guided my sense of identity, self-image, social awareness, activist responsibility, pride, and desire to continue to reframe and redefine oneself in ideal and practice through ongoing education and experience.

Malcolm X is truly one of the most fascinating and inspiring human beings to have ever graced us mere with mortals with his presence here on earth.

As-salumu alaykum, El-Hajj Malik El Shabazz (May 19, 1925 - February 21, 1965)

Down With The Blackleg, All Workers Unite

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 18 May 2013 16:49:00 +0000

By default, when a labour dispute is on the table, I take the side of the worker until I am convinced otherwise. Maybe it's my humble upbringing, or my experiences in unionized versus non-unionized employment, or an "always on the side of the underdog (because I usually am one)" thing... And of course, lest we forget the union (pun intended) of music and activism, which is where keeners will notice the title of this post is a lyric from a Billy Bragg song.

At the eleventh hour, right as the "May 2-4" weekend, often known as the heaviest-drinking long weekend in Ontario, was about to begin, employees of the Liquor Control Board of Ontario (LCBO) opted not to strike. This fact is more an afterthought to the rest of this entry, which was dreamed up as action was looming, observing the seemingly static paradigm of media bias in labour disputes.

The slant of most, if not all, mainstream media in the pending LCBO strike, was exactly what it always is: pro-corporate and anti-labour. It portrays unionized employees as spoiled, lazy, and unreasonable. The characterization of union workers as "demanding" (versus their generous "offering" employers) shapes the general perception towards work amongst non-unionized employees; the narrative goes, "Everyone else's jobs suck so much that people who are unionized should just be grateful, shut up, and take it in the keester" -- but the difference is, unionized workers actually have the power to stand up against exploitation.

The pro-corporate bias in media is never all that surprising, as mainstream media is funded by, thrives upon, and benefits from, the precise anti-worker ethos that working people have been fighting against for centuries. As an institution of influence on belief, perception, and subsequently practice, media survives on a consumer base that feels powerless. An empowered populus with the ability to say "no," and ask "why?" is a threat to corporate culture and interest. But pitting worker against worker based on union and non-union stripes is the age-old strategy of divide and conquer. Thus, a union that protects and empowers workers with the means to fight for things that all workers deserve, is immediately demonized.

Applause to LCBO employees in using the May 2-4 weekend as a brilliant strategy in negotiation. And though despite the knee-jerk response of many in not realizing beer and wine stores would have remained open, it's nice to be able to spend the weekend drinking Tanqueray and tonic in the grass.

Cheers to you for that!

@YesYoureRacist: combatting racism in America, one Tweeter at a time

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 15:29:00 +0000

Whenever awful tragedies happen in America, there's always the bigger-picture questions of how America's anger response will take shape after the horror of the initial tragedy has passed. As was the case with the war and racial profiling response to 9/11, opportunities to come together and seek common ground often take the knee-jerk route to bringing greater divisions, often on lines of race, ethnicity, and culture. Sadly, but not surprisingly, before anyone knew anything about the identities of those responsible or the Boston Marathon bombing -- before the smoke had even cleared from the blast -- racist calls from the Twitosphere to blow out "R**heads" and "Sandni**ers" were sprouting up all across middle America.

Of course, faceless (or semi-faceless) social media like Twitter should not be taken as a gauge for any sort of scientific conclusions about public opinion, but the response to the racism is where optimism on American intelligence has earned a pleasant uplift.

There is a Twitter account called @YesYoureRacist, subtitled "a public service by @LoganJames," which I suspect was initially conceived as a semi-lighthearted means to publicly shame other Tweeters who abuse their free speech rights by posting racist remarks, particularly prefaced with "I'm not racist but...." You know, another instance of culture-jamming, and using contemporary media to humoursly satire bigotry, "out" its propagators, allow those enlightened amongst to a) have a reality check; and b) fight back.

However, a lot of respect to Mr. Smith for really stepping up to the occasion amidst the ongoing tragedies in Boston, Massechussets. He has taken it upon himself (with a growing army of supporters behind him) to monitor, retweet, and respond to several racist posts in an effort to expose racists in America but also to allow enlightened members of the community to debate, confront, and challenge their racist stances. It's a noble effort, and one that deserves attention and support.

Now, the reason I'm bringing this up is not to appeal to the cynics amongst us who will look at racist tweets, throw their hands up and say, "Fuck this, I've lost all faith in humanity." Because what is truly telling, hopeful, and a sign of progressive intelligence winning, is the way that racist tweeters are getting bodyslammed by enlightened, non-racist individuals in response to their ignorance. Some even to the point of shutting down their Twitter accounts (as in the case of @KatieGiorgio, whose public shaming was seemingly the first in this wave -- and don't bother to find her Twitter by the way because she closed it. Hallelujah!). For every one racist remark, there are dozens of anti-racist retractions. Do the math.

My favorite response was when one person said something about "Chechen sandni**ers," a retraction said, "Um, Chechens are white, hun." Education by inches.

As is usually the case, the passive Tweeting racists are like most bigots and conservatives: they talk a lot from behind the iron veils of their internet connections but are hating from afar, and are not out in the community making the real world a better place, thus rendering them effectively useless. Those who are actually making the world a better place are physically on the ground getting the job done.

So genuinely, cheers America for a faith-building exercise. Our thoughts and best wishes are with you in this time of trouble.

"Grow a Pair" or "Grow Up": can music do both?

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Thu, 18 Apr 2013 19:29:00 +0000

A blog by Kitty Vincent called "Hey Kids, Grow a Pair: How Music Blogs Neutered Indie Rock," was put on my radar by an old friend from Vancouver today through the social networks.

It was a good read, proof that there are always exceptions to the rule, and the author herself acknowledges the irony of writing about it in blog form (as, well, I guess am I)....

I wholeheartedly agree with the community element; what makes rock scenes happen is when there are bands that support each other, go to each other's shows, and play in each other's bands, with no real "professional" goals; it's just about making great music and art with your peers. The industry is always, always playing catch-up to this. I've had real-life experiences of this both in Vancouver when I was there, and now in Toronto and its surrounding areas.

I've thought about this issue a lot lately, and talked to a lot of other musicians about it....

After Kurt Cobain died, a lot of people in the industry pretty much said, "We're not taking a risk with our money and livelihood anymore by investing into and dealing with people who are angry, emotional, sensitive, and potentially unstable again." Not the least of which, financially-speaking, may have had to do with the advent of downloading.

What they missed in the process, however, is that it is precisely those angry, alienated, real-life human beings are the ones who make the most genuine and kick-ass rock 'n' roll. And sometimes, like in Kurt's case, the commericalization of their art can result in things like, well, drugs, depression, and suicide....

Think back (or read back if you were born after 1987): after Kurt, what was considered "alternative"? It was dudes in press photos wearing touques and sunglasses, sitting in coffee shops eating scrambled eggs and toast, making music that was cleaner, safer, and more adult contemporary. Stuff that both you and your parents could listen to together. It wasn't that Black Flag record that pissed your dad off every time you put it on, that's for sure. It was, for many people, a conservative (financially and economically) response to what happened with Kurt, which simultaneously shut out a lot of the "rock," that has changed all of our lives in some way, from avenues that typically gave them a wider audience.

Moving, challenging, and genuine art (in the form of rock 'n' roll) is still out there. We tend to think we just have to dig a little harder to find it -- but chances are it's right in our backyards, our local record stores, and our local clubs. Hell, your friends may even be the ones making it.

Relish in that possibility!

So, tell us about this punk thing....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 26 Mar 2013 15:09:00 +0000

When you start your musical life as a punk, it becomes an inseparable part of your personal, political, and social identity until the day you die. From those arduous hair-dying days as an underage kid getting snuck into bars to play punk shows with grown-ass men much older than me, the classic punk of The Ramones, Sex Pistols, The Stooges, The New York Dolls, The Clash, Television, Richard Hell and The Voidoids, all rooted in an experimental Andy Warhol-inspired art project known as The Velvet Underground (and beautifully documented in the oral history Please Kill Me) shaped me in ways that life's traditional influencers did not. It was inevitable that something punk would come out again.

Of course, when side projects emerge, so do questions about the root band. Don't worry, Paint is fine. After a year-and-a-half of uncertainty and transience, Paint has actually become the most fully functional, healthy, and productive that it's been in a long time. In fact, I would probably say that Pantifesto has emerged because Paint has become so vibrant. I'm inspired to just be a musician and be creative again.

Pantifesto had its nucleus during a particularly grueling tour, where I came up with an idea for a screenplay/cult graphic novel about a band -- a punk band -- who runs into a comedy/horror adventure on the road. Partly inspired by the realities of touring life, and partly by the slapstick comedy that is (perhaps surprisingly) a big part of who I am. Naturally, the band in the film-to-be needed a soundtrack. So it was the perfect excuse to get a punk project going.

The names of the Pantifesto members are classically formuliac as most of our punk forefathers' personas were: each band member's first name is taken from the original Ramones lineup, and their last names derive from different styles of women's underwear. Part of this is rooted in the glam end of punk, but also a reflection of the rather unGLAMourous jobs that surely every musician has had to hold down while pursuing their passion. In my case, stock clerk at a women's underwear store (amongst many others).

Nothing was really spent on the Pantifesto record. The production is crap. The musicianship is crap. But that was clearly an aesthetic choice. So, in that mindset, it's being given away for free (or by kind donation if one is so inclined)... Get it here: http://pantifesto.bandcamp.com/

Much love.

Fun With Numbers

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 22:07:00 +0000

Over the past two years, I've been working on archiving and update all of our setlists for the Tour page on our website, and linking each set to its related photo album or video playlist.

On some level, it was strange to become a fan-geek of my own band during the process, which was enjoyable, frustrating, and rather emotional in the end. Many happy and bittersweet memories of wonderful shows and beautiful moments on stage that I had forgotten about were triggered by certain songs in specific setlists. And of course, some shows and moments I would hope to never revisit again. It's hard to keep it all in focus sometimes but it all exists somewhere in the subconscious.

On an even more geeky note, it's come to light that Paint has played 167 shows since April 4, 2007. Only 15 of those were in 2007/2008 combined, and only 16 in 2009. So mostly in the last three years, especially 2010-2011.

And the number of times we have played every song that's been in our repertoire:

138 - Strangers (Paint)
126 - End of the Reel (Paint)
106 - She Leaves (Paint)
86 - If The Walls Could Talk (Paint)
76 - Home (Paint)
75 - A Gentle Art (Paint)
74 - Girl in a Frame (Paint)
73 - Madonna (Paint)
68 - Can You Hear Me? (Paint)
67 - Let Go (Paint)
55 - Jenny and Maurice (Paint)
53 - In Disguise / Chemically-Inclined (Paint)
50 - Don't Blow Me Away (Paint)
49 - Vampires (Paint)
48 - Gastown / Out of Mind (Paint)
37 - Boomerang (Paint)
36 - After (Paint)
33 - (What's so Funny 'Bout) Peace, love, and Understanding? (Elvis Costello and the Attractions)
15 - An Evening to Myself (Paint)
13 - Kids (MGMT)
13 - Leavin' Here (The Who / Pearl Jam)
11 - Blitzkrieg Bop (The Ramones)
10 - Dancing in the Dark (Bruce Springsteen)
10 - Life (Paint)
9 - Stand By Me (Ben E. King)
9 - Slide Away (Oasis)
9 - Just My Imagination (Running Away With Me) (The Rolling Stones)
8 - In Your Arms Tonight (Paint)
7 - World Without a Mirror (Paint)
7 - Shattered Hearts (Paint)
7 - Better Man (Pearl Jam)
7 - I Won't Back Down (Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers)
6 - Yellow (Coldplay)
6 - Bonfire of Vanities (Paint)
6 - Down (Pearl Jam)
5 - The Con Artist (Paint)
5 - My Empty Hands (Paint)
5 - Moral of the Story (Paint)
4 - Heroes (David Bowie)
4 - When She's Gone (Paint)
4 - Girlfriend in a Coma (The Smiths)
3 - Starman (David Bowie)
3 - I'm Afraid of Americans (David Bowie)
3 - Days (David Bowie)
3 - Rebel Rebel (David Bowie)
3 - Common People (Pulp)
3 - Anarchy in the UK (Sex Pistols)
3 - With or Without You (U2)
2 - Lost Together (Blue Rodeo)
2 - Lovers in a Dangerous Time (Bruce Cockburn)
2 - Young Americans (David Bowie)
2 - Slide (Goo Goo Dolls)
2 - King's Horses (Jet)
2 - Beds Are Burning (Midnight Oil)
2 - Don't Look Back in Anger (Oasis)
2 - The Grand Scheme (Paint)
2 - High and Dry (Radiohead)
2 - Manic Monday (The Bangles)
2 - Why Can't I Touch It? (The Buzzcocks)
2 - In Between Days (The Cure)
2 - Lovesong (The Cure)
2 - Friday I'm in Love (The Cure)
2 - L.A. Woman (The Doors)
2 - Every Breath You Take (The Police)
2 - Free Fallin' (Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers)
2 - We're Not Gonna Take It (Twisted Sister)
2 - Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses? (U2)
1 - Redemption Song (Bob Marley)
1 - You Will. You? Will. You? Will. (Bright Eyes)
1 - True Love Will Find You in the End (Daniel Johnston)
1 - Easy Silence (Dixie Chicks)
1 - Heartbeat (Take It Away) (Dum Dum Girls)
1 - Can't Help Falling in Love (Elvis Presley)
1 - Suspicious Minds (Elvis Presley)
1 - Iris (Goo Goo Dolls)
1 - Live in a Hiding Place (Idlewild)
1 - Walk on the Wild Side (Lou Reed)
1 - Like a Hurricane (Neil Young)
1 - Sugar Mountain (Neil Young)
1 - All Apologies (Nirvana)
1 - Talk Tonight (Oasis)
1 - Rivers (Paint)
1 - Curtain Call (Paint)
1 - Death Row (Paint)
1 - Dear John (Paint)
1 - Ant Hill (Paint)
1 - Waiting for Somebody (Paul Westerberg)
1 - Hail, Hail (Pearl Jam)
1 - Corduroy (Pearl Jam)
1 - Off He Goes (Pearl Jam)
1 - Fall On Me (R.E.M.)
1 - It's the End of the World As We Know It (R.E.M.)
1 - Orange Crush (R.E.M.)
1 - Breaking the Girl (Red Hot Chili Peppers)
1 - Jesse's Girl (Rick Springfield)
1 - Prison Bound (Social Distortion)
1 - Interstate Love Song (Stone Temple Pilots)
1 - Dear Prudence (The Beatles)
1 - London Calling (The Clash)
1 - Learning to Fly (Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers)
1 - Where The Streets Have No Name (U2)
1 - All I Want is You (U2)
1 - Blister in the Sun (Violent Femmes)
1 - Say It Ain't So (Weezer)

That's 104 songs in total, though there's a core group of 18-20 that every show revolves around. That number will grow as the newest Paint songs come into the picture more. No real surprises with "Strangers" and "End of the Reel" topping the list. Of course some are a little off-weighted because they haven't been around as long.

A lot of the cover songs have been fragments, mostly things that I would improvise over the ending of "Home" with. That's where a lot of memories come from. Be it singing a Beatles or Doors tunes on the anniversary of John Lennon's death and Jim Morrison's birth; singing "Redemption Song" by Bob Marley in honour of our drummer's father passing away (Marley was his favourite artist); "Prison Bound" by Social Distortion as a celebration of the release of the West Memphis Three; and one of the most emotional was Daniel Johnston's "True Love Will Find You in the End" in light of losing some people very close to me in a short period of time.

Certain Paint songs, like the beautiful "After," sadly aren't represented well enough, because for a long time because it's quite challenging to play correctly live. Overall, the entire Can You Hear Me? record (still my personal favourite) suffers a bit in that regard; it's great now to have a lineup where everyone enjoys the entire catalogue. So, expect some of the old gems to make a comeback. Perhaps.

Honestly, I think we've played songs like "If The Walls Could Talk" and "She Leaves" more than enough. It's time for our newest songs to take their place.

This is officially the geekiest thing that's ever happened with Paint. And it probably won't ever happen again.

Enjoy! There's hours of entertainment there for many of you kind folks who have been with us over the years, and those who are new to us as well.

Show Me a Nicer Band....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 12 Feb 2013 04:49:00 +0000

I love The Cheap Speakers. And they probably love me too -- though as they are the real thing when it comes to rock 'n' roll, I doubt they would admit it in so many words publicly. Paint has had a long-standing allegiance with one of Toronto's sweetest and scrappiest indie rock bands. From having one as a roommate; to having another fill in on guitar with Paint numerous times at home and on the road; to spending time as their guest roadie; to hanging out at shows and each others' parties; I can confidently say you'd be hard pressed to find a group of gents and lady more class than Nat, Tim, and David. Their undying support of the Toronto music community is unmatched: they once came to four of our shows in a row when we played every week at C'est What? in February 2011 when we hadn't even met prior to the first show, and they still made it out to multiple other bands' gigs at the same time. Sometimes all in one night. On any given evening in Toronto, you can find at least one of The Cheap Speakers out at one of our beautiful city's many live music venues, front and centre, enjoying the show -- and of course, they pretty much know everyone at the bar. The Cheap Speakers are a genuinely kind-hearted bunch who are always legit, generous, and stand-up in a personal and business sense.

Yet at the same time, I would never mess with them. Because they're the closest thing I've seen to The Who in Toronto: four unique individuals, one no less charismatic than the next, who just absolutely rock on stage. Any of them could keep your attention both on stage with their sonic antics, and off stage with their bright personalities, unpredictable humour, insights, and striking good looks. There's no ambiguity about them: The Cheap Speakers are just straight up, a rock 'n' roll band (a sub-title we in Paint have always used for ourselves but may have to secede to The Cheap Speakers' prowess one of these days). Love The Cheap Speakers off stage and fear them on stage -- unless you're me of course, and you can get away with bear-hugging Tim between songs when he spontaneously hops on stage to sing backup with us.* But we're bromancers like that.

On March 2, 2013, The Cheap Speakers will release their new record Switches & Levers, at the Legendary Horseshoe Tavern in Toronto. And in the spirit of community, they have invited us to join the bill. All the more fitting since when we had our Toronto release party for our latest record, Where We Are Today, The Cheap Speakers were our first choice to join the festivities. And they did with gusto.

It's going to be one hell of a night. We're all extremely proud of our dear friends. And we're not afraid to admit it!

* Thanks to our friend Joe Mac for always capturing the action on stage.

Bowling for Twitter

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Wed, 19 Dec 2012 02:42:00 +0000

I try my best to completely avoid social media in the wake of tragedies like the shootings Newtown, Connecticut. Too many knee-jerk responses of "I've lost all faith in humanity," or "People are fucked," or "Fuck that crazy fucker," or "Bring back the death penalty" (yes, even when the shooter killed himself) -- you know, all the usual emotional-irrational-response-venom that is so easy to post into the ether without consideration of the larger, more significant political and social dynamics at work. None of it really means anything, and it's nothing we haven't heard over and over again.

I don't know about you, but I was too fucking gutted by the news from Newtown to go anywhere near a computer or smartphone within minutes, or even hours, of the story breaking.

Of course, I am not denying the tragedy or excusing the shooting of 28 people, including Adam Lanza's suicide. It's heartbreaking beyond belief.

The fact that shootings like this keep happening in America, almost in a predictable manner, does bring into question the roots of many people's newfound "loss of faith in humanity," which is the purpose of this article. Indulge for a moment in some history...

If you publicly spoke about the earth being round prior to the advent of science, you would have been slaughtered, legally, by the church/state;
After 400 years of slavery ended with the Civil War of 1865, American politicians made the 13th Amendment to the American Constitution which craftily allowed slavery to continue "as punishment for crime," following which the American prison population became as high as 90% black within just 5 years, and is now entrenched in a spiral of private, for-profit prison industry;
The Holocaust happened.
Executives of the Ford Motor Company put the Ford Pinto on the market from 1971-1980 after a cost-benefit analysis that proved it would be cheaper to deal with any lawsuits pertaining to wrongful death than to recall a faulty, and fatal, fuel tank design;
The Nestlé corporation sent employees posing as doctors to Africa to push the use of baby formula -- that needed to be mixed with clean water, which was not widely available. Yes, many babies died;
The same day the Columbine shootings happened in America, NATO (under the hands of US President Bill Clinton) executed the largest single-day bombing in the Kosovo War; and
Nearly 120,000 civilians were casualties of a war in Iraq from 2003-2011 that had no empirical reason to happen aside from George W. Bush's ideology.

If you apparently lost your faith in humanity over Newtown, then reading a history book at some point in your life would have made commit suicide years ago. But in reality, Newtown has only really confirmed a preexisting narrow and cynical worldview; which most often, ironically, comes from a place of privilege. Well, as Pulp would say, "Everybody hates a tourist."

All of the above historical atrocities were perpetuated, rationally, of sound mind, with cold calculation, by Presidents, lawyers, and CEOs; people whom everyday citizens look to for guidance and whose careers we are supposed to envy and strive for in our own lives. They are "sane" and clean cut. They have homes, families, bills, and social circles.

Mass-scale and calculated acts of violence -- calculated cowardly from behind the iron wall of an office hundreds, and thousands of miles away -- and the people who perpetuate them, for me, have always been, and always will be, a lot more scary than a sole gunman. This is not to say that the fear response is the same or to make little of lives lost in Newtown, Columbine, or anywhere else -- but this is more of an exploration of the response of people on social media with no personal connection to the actual events.

It's easy to target one "crazy" person we can more easily write off as different from us than look at a complicated system where truth is a jumbled, post-modern mess of "WTF?!?", where the killer could just as easily be any of us.

Shootings like this, while always tragic, are nothing new. They are by-products of a larger culture of violence, fear, and selfishness. They are by-products of alienation. Which, in 2012, despite our apparently acute "connectedness" via internet and social media, is greater than it's ever been.

If you want to publicly share your feelings about a tragedy, then why not have a town hall meeting? Enlist the help of grief counselors. Go for coffee with a friend. Because you would be a lot more than simply pissed off if you were medically traumatized by the event. And you wouldn't have the stature to post a "fuck humanity and crazy people" status update during commercial breaks of Glee.

Please post responsibly. The internet is an opportunity for community-building and constructive dialogue. Not a faceless dumping ground for unresolved emotions.

A picture is worth another four years...

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 12 Nov 2012 20:51:00 +0000

Photo by Joe Mac (http://www.flickr.com/photos/thepaintsite/8170202349/sizes/l/in/set-72157631646006001/)

Where were you when it was confirmed that Barack Obama would be President of America for a second term? Well, I was right here. On stage. Where else?

My usual pre-show ritual for the night we played C'est What? on November 6, 2012 for the opening night of our weekly November residency was full of interruptions, check-ins with the computer behind the sound board, looking at my iPhone for news updates during warm ups and stretches, and having the odd side-conversation with friends, bandmates, and people at C'est What? about what was happening, and we hoped would (or would not) happen. My freshly-painted black nails were pretty much chipped away before we even walked on stage, and I took permanent markers to draw stars and stripes on my hands. It was fitting that this was happening at C'est What? because last year Paint and C'est What? fought against Rob Ford and the City of Toronto on anti-postering charges (and won in court) -- so our politics are clearly stated and shared with this venue.

I knew Obama was going to win; I had confidence in America's ability to move forward positively, and after spending lots of time in the United States over the years, I've come to recognize that for every mistake the world's most powerful nation has made, there are hordes of resistance and positive steps taken on a grassroots level that we don't see in much mainstream media outside of America. It makes me hopeful to know that regular Americans are right where we are looking from outside.

After our second song, we went into an instrumental into for "Strangers," during which time I asked that if good (or bad) news came during out set, to please let us know on stage. We would stop the show to celebrate and/or lament -- but either way, I was ready to bring either Doctor Jimmy or Mister Jim* to the stage depending on which way the results swayed. Both characters are loveable, just one is more pissed off than the other.

We're halfway into the second verse of "Boomerang," fittingly our loud, massive rock 'n' roll anthem that is the opening track from our new album, and one of the few songs I play guitar on. People start jumping up and down, phones in the air, swinging them at me to get my attention. Mouthing "Obama" at me. And just then, it's the moment where we pause to let Devin smoke a drum fill into the "Heeeeeyyyyy!!!" chorus -- and I just let it rip: "Ooooobbaaaammmaaaaaa!!!!!!" Hitting that power chord never felt so good.

After all these shows, and many still to come, it's moments like that that stand out, that you'll never forget as a performer, and that you're grateful you get to share with audiences -- who become part of the experience rather than observers of it.

And in all this, I can't believe (but I can) that Joe Mac was right there to capture the exact moment when it happened. It's the only time I would let such an unflattering shot of my face go on our official Flickr. I'm still a singer, remember.... #vanity

We now affectionately refer to "Boomerang" as "Obamarang."

Congratulations, America. You made your voices heard and you made us want to scream even louder to let you know you did the right thing.

* The Who, Quadrophenia.

As we prepare for the road again....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 13 Mar 2012 19:26:00 +0000

"What happened?" Is a question that will probably come up a lot as the band moves forward. Well... I'm not one to talk bad about people publicly, and I don't believe in airing dirty laundry for public exploitation.

All I can say is the we put out a new record and money got ain the way. Money was taken from the band account without the usual procedures of approval; money that was contractually-obliged was breached and people were stuck with debts; and money was owed between people who weren't willing to make concessions or look at the big picture. Inexperience and insecurities came in as well, surely. It's the 2000s; making money as an independent band is a tough gig.

What's more important is that the band still exists and is stronger than ever. Sometimes shaking things up is the only way to really survive, and I'm grateful to still have a place to call home musically.

Andre Dey and I do keep regular contact though. After all we've been through, he'll always be a brother and friend.

And the Granny goes to....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 23:29:00 +0000

I don't think I've actually watched the Grammys since this speech blew my mind as a young boy:

"I don't know what this means. I don't think it means anything. That's just how I feel," is what Eddie Vedder said in 1996. Perhaps I had the luxury of growing up when MTV was unsuspectingly infiltrated by music that surprised everyone, even the industry, by going to the top of the charts; breaking the dentist-office-and-supermarket-musak tradition of the mainstream. Now it's back to more familiar territory in the post-Beatles, Stones, and Zeppelin age: great music is out there, but it's not on the radio or TV. You find it on the ground, through friends, through the community. Which is perfectly fine.

Last night, as families gathered around their televisions for some wholesome Granny time (no, that isn't a typo), my social media was flooded with praises of Dave Grohl's speech, which always kinda bores me because I've never found Grohl's post-Nirvana work to be worth writing home about, aside from the Foo Fighters' self-titled debut. So I checked it out:

With all due respect to Kurt Cobain's drummer (a role that Grohl has never been able to top), the romanticized illusion Grohl has created with Wasting Light, the latest installment in the Foo Fighters' ongoing saga of post-self-titled-debut unimaginative and conservative rock that suburban parents can listen to with their children, is rather suspect in creating false hopes for bands starting out today. Recorded in the "garage" of Grohl's million-dollar home with Butch Vig, one of the industry's most expensive producers, to analog tape, which is significantly more costly than digital recording in 2012, Wasting Light is hardly a Black Flag record in style, spirit, production value, and, ultimately, budget. It's another case of long-established group of music professionals telling you anything is possible when they emerged at a time when they could fund tours with album sales supported by major-label apparatus and be the subject of grassroots, tape-trading fervor from audiences who were physically present and participated in the consumption of physical products.

It's sad that a band that plays its own instruments is becoming a novelty, and that somehow makes them more "punk" than they would have been in decades past just because of today's fickle landscape. I'll lend Grohl some credence for the spirit in which his speech was delivered, so as not to participate in any divide-and-conquer rituals. It is indeed, as Grohl said, what goes on in our hearts and minds that makes music truly work. But "we couldn't have done it without the greatest (read: and one of the most pricey) producer in the world," is where the ultimate truth -- and catch -- of Grohl's sentiments lie.

His world is not yours, or mine. But maybe it's the thought that counts.

So, they say we should blog more....

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Sun, 12 Feb 2012 08:28:00 +0000

It's a fine line between self-indulgence and maintaining and audience's interest when it comes to blogging. One can't help but wonder in the age of an over-saturated online market if blogging has simply become a means of perpetuating a delusional and self-aggrandizing vanity, or if the so-called "information age" is indeed aptly named. Freedom of expression and equal opportunity? Or simply the illusion of a level playing field meant to pacify a restless mass of consumers yearning to be contributors?

I, for one, and completely baffled, intrigued, frustrated, cynical, inspired, and hopeful, all at the same time.

Pete Townshend, great prophet that he is, surely must have known the term "Quadrophenic" would have applicability far beyond its 1973 inception. Nothing exemplifies amplified schizophrenia more than the 140-character soundbyte-porn culture. Is the medium truly the message, as McLuhan has long since warned us? The "message" so to speak seems almost irrelevant; we have the attention span of mosquitoes. Where is the poetry, the beauty, the focus, the community? Click "like" if this resonates... Or see you in your town. An open slate for the grassroots. Cryptic messages from behind a keyboard.

What next?

A Small Victory

noreply@blogger.com (Unknown) — Tue, 29 Nov 2011 23:37:00 +0000

Yesterday, myself and Tim Broughton, one of the managers of Toronto's C'est What? venue, stood in court to challenge two anti-graffiti fines that were issued against C'est What? for posters promoting a residency of Paint shows from February 2011.

We argued against the prosecution on two grounds: 1) Tim put forth the factual argument that the band operated independently of C'est What? in putting up posters according to what they believed to be the venue's guidelines and limitations on postering; thus charging the venue was a misapplication of law; and 2) I presented a three-fold constitutional argument that blanket bans on postering are in fact an infringement of s.2(b) of the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms pertaining to freedom of expression.

The case law was entirely on our side. Ramsden v. Peterborough was the landmark decision, in which the Supreme Court of Canada unanimously agreed that prohibiting postering on public property violated s.2(b) of the Charter. As postering is protected by the Charter, then any bylaws limiting this right must provide only "reasonable limits" that are minimally restrictive. Postering on public property, regardless of its content, constitutes "expression," and no persuasive distinction exists between using public space for leaflet distribution and using public property for the display of posters.

A subsequent case against the organizers of the Evolve Festival in Halifax laid 18 charges of postering on grounds that the city had created "information kiosks" for posters to be displayed. However, it was argued not only on constitutional grounds (as in Ramsden) but also that such kiosks were in fact an unreasonable limitation on freedom of expression because of their inconvenient locations and small numbers. The Halifax Regional Municipality dropped the charges on the grounds that there was "no reasonable prospect of conviction on the charges before the court."

A similar case in Montreal saw Jaggi Singh, as well as organizers of the Pop Montreal festival, charged with postering on "surface(s) (not) designated for such purposes." The Quebec Court of Appeal, in July 2010, declared the anti-littering bylaw (under which posters fell) to be "invalid" and "unconstitutional," on the grounds that bylaw, as in Ramsden, violates s.2(b) of the Charter.

The City of Toronto, under Rob Ford, is claiming that they also have similar provisions on "kiosks" and designated spaces that do allow for postering legally. However, as in the case in Halifax, such limitations are not "minimally restrictive," and I am of the opinion that Toronto is in violation of the Charter just as Peterborough, Halifax, and Montreal were, and as the Supreme Court of Canada has agreed.

Taking all of this into consideration, the City dropped both postering charges against C'est What? after myself as a representative of the band refused to take the fine in their place on constitutional grounds. The condition of the dismissal was that C'est What? present the City with their revised terms of performance to clearly state that postering is only allowed where legally deemed appropriate -- which, sadly, no one is entirely clear where those spots are, nor is it all that different from the provisions C'est What? already had in place.

The bottom line is that our charges were dismissed and it is worth celebrating (which is what the show on Dec. 8 at C'est What? is meant to acknowledge). However, it is still unclear where bands, promoters, and businesses are and are not allowed to poster without risking a fine.

Bans on postering represent an attack on the arts, especially in times of political conservatism when arts can be seen as subversive. 85% of the 413 infractions stemming from anti-postering in Montreal in 2009 were against the cultural industries. Posters are an accessible and affordable form of advertising for locally-targeted events in an oversaturated internet market. By-laws against postering are simply creating barriers for artists of a certain income demographic to get their messages out. Unless one has the resources to advertise in mainstream media, which is often controlled by certain interests, or own property and put up a big billboard, ideas and expressions are limited. The concept of “public space” contains the assumption that people freely express themselves as permitted under s.2(b) of the Charter.

In Toronto's case, shy of banding together to file a constitutional challenge (which I would say isn't entirely outside the realm of possibility) the onus sadly is placed on the backs of artists to stand up for their rights. Poster and promote as you would, and if fines are issued, do not pay them. Go to court. Use the above case law to argue your points. And drop me a line, I'd be happy to help.

Your in solidarity,
Robb Johannes