CRASS MOTIVATIONS

I WRITE ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED AND I COMPOSED WHAT I HEARD, WHICH WAS THE SOUND OF THE CITY.

What is it which motivated us as young men to create roaring and screaming and crashing. Whining and wailing and booming and banging? THE CITY did.

Unless we were attending at a Commercial Musician Mill we were not composing and playing and practising to get money. We were authoring our description and commentary. Years later the situation was different and I and some Musicians attempted to gain employment and Royalties.  

We did not play was not to get attention, ``hey look at me`` I was recemtly told I is what I was seeking. That is not what learning to play is about. It is more like a bird learning to fly. It is exhilarating, precarious, it is intimidating, it is fragile and so is the novice musician. Even the most talented musicians have trepidation and uncertainty as they offer new material through publication.

I have also been condemned for not knowing how to play my expensive guitars what about the guitar on these peices of music. None of my guitars were Expensive when I bought them. I find that different guitars can inspire the writing of different tunes which you can then play on more guitars. Fullblown Schitzophrenic was written on the Roland GR 707 Synthesiser Guitar but I am playing it on a Les Paul Black Beauty with a lot of sliding the pick up and down selected strings.

In that many of us who composed and performed music received no reward nor even a wage for our work, to be condemned as attention seekers is atrocious.

DO NOT INTERFERE WITH ANY ART NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU HATE IT

CAPRICIOUS JUSTICE

In Canada and I am sure people in other countries would like the same justice, we expect that if we stay out of our neighbors business and property and don't make any mistakes driving there should be no way we find ourselves being ground down by the wheels of a justice juggernaut driven by angry uncaring and unaccountable individuals who can make irrational decisions which cause anguish, property or monetary loss or even imprisonment. Instead we have: CAPRICIOUS JUSTICE

Friday, November 15, 2019

ALL HAMPERING IS MALFEASANCE

NO SCREWING ANYONE UP, THAT IS A CRIMINAL OFFENCE.THERE ARE NO ENABLING TECHNICALITIES WHICH EXCUSE OR PERMIT DOING BAD THINGS TO PEOPLE TO IMPEDE THEM.

REGARDLESS OF HOW OFFENDED YOU ARE AT ANOTHER PERSON'S OVERWEENING AMBITION OR PERSONAL DEVOTION TO AN ENDEAVOR YOU DO NOT APPROVE OF YOU CANNOT DO A SINGLE THING TO IMPEDE THAT PERSON. YOU ARE NOT IN DANGER FROM ANOTHER PERSONS ACTIONS THAT DO NOT HARM YOU, YOU DO NOT GET TO STOP THEM UNLESS THEY ARE DAMAGING YOU.

It is really easy to attack an Artist Writer or Musician, it seems that all that is required that you do not " Like " the Artists work or do not approve of a writers views. 

There is a complaint that we who strive to write to compose, to perform are trying to get attention. I admit that in 1965 I took up guitar because I thought I could meet sex partner women at parties. That only happened once. The very svelte and charming South African White Girl emerged from her bedroom in a skin tight dancer's costume and could you ever see that white ass stretch the leotard to transparency. BANG BANG BANG on the West End Vancouver Apartment and this guy with a Strange Accent barges in screaming that she and I had not been properly introduced so I grabbed my Kay Jumbo and left.

TO THE UNINITIATED: THE PRACTICE OF ANY ART IS AKIN TO FLYING. THE JOY OF GETTING A PROJECT OFF THE GROUND AND IF POSSIBLE PUBLICALLY DISPLAYING IT IS WHY WE DO IT.

THE PUBLIC PRACTICE OF MUSIC DOES BRING A GREAT FEELING OF FLYING. THE TRAPEZE ARTIST, THE WINGSUIT FLYER, WHITEWATER RACER MUST BE WILD. PHYSICAL MOVEMENT CAN BE ADDED TO MUSIC BY DANCING THAT IS EXCITING.

WE ARE NOT FRAUDS THEIVES OR SERIAL KILLERS WE ARE LOVERS OF DOING THE EXTRAORDINARY.  WHY WOULD PEOPLE BE OFFENDED AND TRY TO    STOP IT FROM HAPPENING IN SO MANY WAYS?

QUIET IN THE BUSH

I THOUGHT I HAD TO LIVE REMOTELY IN ISOLATION OR AT LEAST INSULATED TO PRACTICE MUSIC. I SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN THE HEART OF THE CITY TO PRACTICE MY ARTS BUT I DID NOT HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO LIVE THERE AFTER MY MOTOR VEHICLE INJURY. IT IS QUIET IN THE BUSH, TOO QUIET, I AM HERE ALONE.

I was not the first artist or musician or writer to leave the city for a rural life.

I was not the first to attempt the patrician life style with a rural acreage and a crib in the City.

Live Rock Critic is not only about Music this time. LRC is about getting out into strange places to meet strange people doing strange things- experiencing strange sounds and sights and thoughts. 

There is not a lot more to say about the ordinary, it was touted and portrayed and adulated  when it came along and whatever it is was new, now it is part of the ordinary. Like Streamline Cars going effortlessly by at a hundred miles an hour, seamless, shining, cutting the wind, Whoosh! 

The City of Vancouver was loud and the din went on and on. And loud Electric Music seared and crackled and roared and thundered and pealed the whirling tones of the Organ's Leslies. My Screaming Harmonicas and Roaring Trains and thundering Motorcycles were a part of Tthe City of Vancouver. I was a part of the City plying my trades at my Jewellery Factory.

Just outside Town in Delta musicians from the City would attend the ``Space Jam `` on a lot of Sundays. I had lay there paralyzed or virtually paralyzed for many a year, not all day every day, but when I look back, I did a lot of reclining with my legs over a table, churlish perhaps, but it was that or lay down for most of 1970 to 1974. My Partner and me built a Jewellery Factory in the Heart of the City of Vancouver and he began to gamble and philander and his wife philandered.

Everything blew up and there were tears and I was accused of `Having Evil Inside Knowledge`` which I did not share. I, innocent and unknowing as always, sigh, I Cast Silver and Gold and Platinum into Rings and Pendants and Jewelled Asylum Racers. Very Vancouver with my Precious Metal Hookas and ``Certainly, Sir, we can make you anything you wish to imagine`.  I gave it up to build a House for the Family at Otter Pointand the Hissing and Hatred without end began.

I tried to keep  up a presence in Vancouver but I unfortunately had to buy a home which was new and unfinished and I began my years of mostly alone working on the Family Home Alone. In a Surfit of Tranfered Hatred I was living in the house of the former owner and they hated me.The house had been stripped and trashed earlier and was robbed while I owned it and then BURNT UP.

My Criminal Psychopath Wife took over the new home construction, letting the Contract with a man (Grown as a Tequila Worm!) who superintender the deforestastion of borders or trees, the excavation of a hole to put the house in and the theft of all of the meadow`s topsoil.

Then  I was ``taken down``, all my assets were lost as Stronger FASTER SMARTER WIFE took over with her ``Major Business`` borrowing until I was hollowed out to nothing left of assets.

 Ì hate you, I hate all men..sign over  your assets or I will say you abused me and the children

I THOUGHT I HAD TO LIVE REMOTELY IN ISOLATION OR AT LEAST INSULATED TO PRACTICE MUSIC. I SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN THE HEART OF THE CITY TO PRACTICE MY ARTS BUT I DID NOT HAVE ENOUGH MONEY TO LIVE THERE AFTER MY MOTOR VEHICLE INJURY. IT IS QUIET IN THE BUSH, TOO QUIET, I AM HERE ALONE.